Where all the world's a stage


Where all the world’s a stage, why men and women are mere actors. They have their plays well just as fair their exits, and one man in his time plays many parts. A lost traveller, for where am I? He who his acts last seven ages, at first when walks- all the mewling and puking in the first love’s arm, all that being an infant. Then, when once upon a time a many good years ago- I walked - a lost traveller for where I was? Very long when I began the journey, short when I got halfway through it. When I had walked neither kept to myself all in awe in twilight, fourth another third and over the valley, then I had a matchstick lit and all the fancies that appealed me. And at last, I have come to a child, and I had questioned- “What do you do here?”, and then he said grinning so broad- “Always at play I am, come and play with me!”. And so, I had sat down, and played the whole day long. At yonder there- the little hedge row birds, violets nooks and the fireside warmth. We plucked the flowers and waved our heads in sprightly dance round the pavement brook. When the raindrops fell, we were at play and kept ourselves to the damp weather when all at once- the breeze to

which we sat and tried too birdcall. Where all we were was at toys and plays, the finest horses and wooden trains. Slept off in the twilight stars and dreamt somewhere off in garrots, then the other day just as fair- picture book that took all evening and ran back and forth, then…

When one day I had woken, of a sudden that I had looked over and called out to him, but was he? I lost the child it seems so…. Then when I have set off unmanned and afraid of what I may walk upon to next, then the whining schoolboy- I had saw a boy, where then I had asked him what he is at, and then he said to me “Always at learning, come and learn with me”. So I had sat down once again and learned a good many years on plants and numbers, soon forgot a great-deal of it. Then soon the shining morning face creeping like snail unwillingly to school, when at evening at games- afoot on horsebacks; cricket, and all games at ball. As to friends, so many I had that I need to time to reckon them lot up.  when one day I had woken up again-

I had the lost the boy…. Ages and ages alas, I would be weeping to this fascination that I cannot care to resist. But when I had set out, thought freed of prejudice- I walked alone…. Then when at last I had saw a young man and asked him here what is at? Then he said to me, “I am always in love, come and love with me”. Sighing with a woeful ballad, I had then met the prettiest girls with him of which I was a lost lover- wanted to marry Martha. Wanted a job if I wanted Martha’s hand, and so I set out- got the job and set back. It seemed she disappeared, ran off with another man and somewhere out and so it seemed the young man was a traitor. Jealous in honour and other’s glory, quick in quarrel. Full of oaths, that I have kept, sinned to ever forget. When at once I had ran off and lost at all the friends. I walked to what it seemed a hairy middle-aged hardworking gentleman sighing under a tree, I walked over to him and asked what he now worries upon, then he said “I am always busy, come and be busy with me”, and so with his next I had set down and then at ease. I worked to day, married and made a family- cut wood and savoured the taste of mid-day food. When at last too, I became very busy with the gentleman and for I had four kids myself. When ages and ages hence, my sons have come to me and said, the first one being “Father, I am going to seek my fortune where I can. Lend me some money would you”, the second not much better- “I am going to the Indies to be a merchant, I would give you a back the hundred ducats you are going to give me aye Father”, just the other the other two, they have said to me they were off in search of heaven solitary. When then I had lost all four of my sons, my only wife Suzy called to me, “My dearest”, “I am summoned, and I must go. It is my call” and she was gone. Whenever these partings happened, day was beginning to decline till I had to light a matchstick to ever walk. Then as for me, and the gentleman there whose name was Dean. He and I, now old fellas old as fifty. Dean who had kept with to my deathbed, he was just as me being fat and having a wide body and bald. We left our youthful hose, with eyes severe and beard of formal cut of wise thought. The lean age shift and into the sixth year. Together we walked and set out from the inn we had lost everything…. Then we saw another man who was older than we, having at once our sight, he then told us “Where oft to you are o’ travellers” barely able to speak, when then I had asked him- “What are you doing here?” He said to us with his grin fading away, “I am always remembering, and I cry, come and remember with me”. So I and Dean sat down remembering till ages fourth, till when the old man met his death. Why it was sad, where I sat in a bar staring out of the yellow plywood window drowsing in rhite wine and fruit bread, Dean joined me. “Stupid lot, aye?”’, he then said to me better remarking our once lost family which brings me back to the sorrow. Then, Dean was interrupted by the radio of the casino bar which played a song that made us both emotional- 

Under his thick sunglasses, I could see tears welling up his eyes. Dean took his final breath and left the world unseen gone sombre…. It left me alone in though pensive mood. Turning to childish treble, and so I play my part. The second childhood it is said to be remembering back to there which upon roads ages and ages hence that I walked, I sit here act all childish. Then looked at a whistle in my sound, the last scene in all by the oblivion. Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans everything……. And the last in all, Where all the world’s a stage and the men and women are mere actors. His acts that lasted seven ages, strange eventful history. 

 

 

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Written two books, Armaan Bin Awaz is an eleven-year-old author and the founder of the Vedic movement, who lectures and writes on science and innov ....Read more

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