Castles we build .....

Ever tried to grip sand …… doesn’t matter if its dry or wet , the more you want to grip the less of it remains within your grasp … but then when you are walking on the shore on a cool summer evening watching the sun disappear beneath the curls off the distant clouds , you’ll find an everlasting stretch ahead of you …. Promising to comfort your feet till you can’t walk any longer …. That’s what a handful of sand can promise you …..
When children make their castles they seldom take care to build a wall too, to keep off the waves ….. they pay the price of having to rebuild it over and over again …. But each time they finish re-building it their bruised ego turns into the lovely smiles that your heart enjoys ….. but it’s not the waves and not the children too, for who you have to cry …. It’s the sand , even a tiny speck of it that irritates the eye beyond measure…..
But then again , the nursery poetry associates joy , pleasure and bright colours of the sunlight to the coarse silicon particles that shine like gold on a brilliant summer morning …. I mean that’s what made me happy when I ran my eyes through the spectacularly illustrated swim suit calendars …. Yes, the precisely crafted models were trying their best to outdo the “natural silicon” with their fakes, but truth shows and the beach won …. The sand’s modesty being sweetly violated by the springing waves is a feast that the carnal desires don’t dare to challenge …..
At the end of it ,the eyes fall asleep or are donated and the sand remains …. The children grow up and make castles more solid, and their sweet smiles turning into bruised egos…. It’s a slow process and all poisons don’t act fast …… but then one fine morning on the beach when I see a child doing exactly what I did too, my ego and my pride and my humility is lost … and our lips break into the same smile , leaking innocence from all corners…. They say “ the child’s bruised ego turns into a a sweet smile which your heart enjoys” ….. alchemy is a dying art …….