We are lucky.
Lucky to live. Lucky to leave.
Because to die is to escape.
But nature has no escape.
It must suffer everything, love, pain, loneliness, forever.
The Lonely Mountain That Waited Forever
For the sake of this story, let’s imagine that nature can feel pain. Or perhaps, it already does.
Let’s go back, millions of years ago.
There is a Mountain, standing tall. Majestic, yet lonely.
It touches the sky above and the earth below, a bridge between two worlds.
Decades pass.
Centuries pass.
The mountain remains.
It watches rivers shift, forests grow, and seasons change. Everything changes. Everything dies.
Except the mountain. Silent. Alone.
But not every day is the same.
Not for humans.
Not for nature.
One day, the ground trembles. Something is stirring inside.
The mountain has no way of knowing, but its time is coming.
Born in Fire, Destined to Endure
The tremors grow violent.
Deep within, a force trapped for centuries begins to break free.
And then, THE ERUPTION!!
A roar shakes the world.
Lava explodes into the sky, a scream of fire. Smoke rises.
The Mountain’s final breath.
The cold clouds melt from the heat, watching the mountain suffer, even the clouds begin to cry.
The mother mountain shatters, breaking into a million pieces.
Rocks are thrown into the air, crashing down like newborns ripped from the womb.
The lava flows, devouring everything in its path.
The rocks are born, wrapped around with lava.
Is This Not the Same as Childbirth?
A mother’s pain.
A body torn apart to bring life.
Blood, like lava.
Tears, like the clouds melting into rain.
Screams, like the mountain’s final cry.
Life is created through suffering.
As a child is born from its mother’s pain, a rock is born from the mountain’s destruction.
But unlike the child, who is held in loving arms, the rock will lie alone.
Abandoned by the same force that brought it into existence.
It will wait.
And wait.
And wait.
For centuries. For millennia. For eternity.
The Dragon’s Gift, A Love Set in Stone
The rock felt the ground tremble.
A distant force, heavy, powerful was approaching.
Thump!! Thump!! Thump!!
The earth shook beneath it, sending small vibrations through its surface. Something was coming.
For the first time in centuries, the rock felt something new.The air filled with the sound of thunderous footsteps, louder, closer.
Was this company? A friend? The rock waited. Then a shadow loomed over it.
A massive beast.
The Dragon.
It had waited for so long. It didn’t know what it was waiting for. But this? This had to be it. The weight of the world was approaching. It felt the tremors. It felt seen.
And then, the dragon walked past.
The footsteps faded. The silence returned.
The rock had never had company before. It never knew it could be ignored.But maybe, not all things were against it. Not far away, the dragon’s steps had disturbed another.
A second rock tumbled down the mountain. It rolled, gathering speed, bouncing against the earth.
The ground shook again, this time, closer. A new sound rose through the air, growing louder, faster, heavier. Something was coming.
The rock braced itself once more.
And then, IMPACT!!
A collision so fierce, the force sent a spark into the air.
What was that? The rocks moved.
A second impact.
Another spark.
Then another.
With each collision, a flicker of fire ignited between them. Sparks danced, leaping into the dry bushes, setting them ablaze.
The fire spread.
Flames rose, consuming the dried branches, flickering in the night like a heartbeat. And yet for the first time, the rock did not fear it. It watched the flames dance around them.
Once, fire had been pain. Once, fire had been destruction.
But now, it was something else.
It was warmth. It was light. It was passion. Both rock had moved together after centuries. It had found another. And as they rolled through the fire, together, creating sparks throughout, the flames did not hurt.
Their journey continued, through the fire, through the unknown, until they reached the water’s edge.
The flames died down.
The heat softened.
The rock felt something it had never felt before.
Relief. Peace. It had company.
It had love. But I call it SUKOON.
Isn’t this how humans fall into forever LOVE?
Two people.
They meet, something clicks. A spark.
They don’t know why, but they move forward together. At first, it’s exciting. Then, it gets hard. They fight, they struggle, they hurt each other.
They watch each other go through things they can’t fix. They break. They heal. They keep going. They survive things they thought they wouldn’t. And somehow, after everything, they are still together.
Not perfect. Not whole. Not the same as before.
But still choosing to stay.
And when the fire finally dies down, when things settle, they rest.
Side by side. Because in the end, love isn’t just about the spark.
Through the storms, through the fire, through the unbearable heat, they stayed. And in the quiet that followed, there was nothing left to fight, nothing left to burn, only the peace they had built together.
I call it ‘SUKOON’
When two people come together, they shape each other for the better. They lose parts of themselves, rough edges smoothing out, turning into something new. Rocks collide and change, just like humans do in a relationship, molding each other into something stronger.
Love creates life, but not without sacrifice
The two rocks had been together for centuries, side by side on the shore.
Water washed over them, The wind carried soil, settling between them, making them look like one.
Just like people in love, growing together, becoming one soul, inseparable.
One day, something small, fragile appeared between them.
A tiny sprout.
It wasn’t carried by the wind.
It wasn’t washed in by the water.
It just grew. Right there, in between the rocks.
Their child, maybe?
The two rocks held it. Firm. Steady.
The wind brought more soil.
The shore fed it water.
The sun gave it strength.
The tiny sprout became a plant.
Then a young tree.
Then a Giant.
It grew taller, stronger.
The first time it happened, they barely noticed. A shift. A fraction of an inch. The tree was still small. It needed space. The rocks had plenty to give.
But seasons passed. The gap grew. The touch that once held them together was fading.
Inch by inch, moment by moment, they were letting go.
Not because they wanted to. But because they had no choice.
And then one day, they were no longer touching. And the worst part? It didn’t even happen all at once. They just… drifted apart
Pain is real.
And then, for the first time in centuries The rocks were no longer touching.
But were they sad? No.
They had been together longer than any human ever lived.
Nothing on this planet could match their togetherness.
And now?
Now, they had proof of their love.
A tree. tall, strong, alive.
Centuries passed.
The world kept moving. The tree grew, taller than anything the land had ever seen. And the two rocks?
They stayed.
Not touching.
But never apart.
The world changed.
The dragons roared one last time. And then they were gone. The land no longer trembled with their thundering steps.
And soon, something else walked the earth. Something that had never been here before. A new force. A new kind of change.
Early Man had arrived.
The Man Arrival, The Break, The Transformation, and The Motion
The rocks and the tree had seen countless seasons. Nothing changed. Until today.
They could sense movement, something walking, not crawling, not flying. Coming towards shore, Slow. Thoughtful. Different.
Early Man.
He came to the shore, sat on one of the rocks, resting under the tree. He wasn’t like the creatures before him. He just sat.
Thinking. Watching. Observing.
The rock felt his touch. Not the wind. Not the waves. Not fire. Something else. Something alive. For the first time, the rock felt companionship.
Then, the man stood up, looked at the two rocks, and left. Nothing had changed. But everything was about to.
Days passed. The man returned. But this time, he wasn’t alone. He brought something sharp, something hard, something the rocks had never seen before.
Tools.
He looked at the rocks under the tree. He wanted them. But the tree had wrapped its roots tightly around them, just like the rocks had once held it when it was a sprout.
Nature had its own ways to give it back.
But the man didn’t care. He pulled, hacked at the roots, tearing them apart. The tree must have felt the pain of separation, just like the rocks did. The first rock was finally free.
And then THE FIRST BLOW!!
Then again.
And again.
The sound echoed through the land. Tan. Tan. Tan. The other rock could do nothing but listen. For the first time, pain wasn’t natural with each hit, sparks flew.
Like love. Like destruction. Like something new being born.
The second rock watched in horror as the first one was beaten, struck, broken. Every hit sent sparks into the air. Once, fire had been destruction. But later, fire had been love. And now, fire had returned again.
But what was it this time? The second rock wasn’t sure.
It could see the first rock slowly losing itself, its edges breaking. It was strange. This wasn’t just pain, it was change and change always came with loss.
Then, the hammering stopped.
The first rock wasn’t a rock anymore. It was something else. It turned to the water and saw its reflection.
Different. Rounder. Smoother.
A Wheel!!
First Rock didn’t hate it. The second rock was next to turn into a Wheel.
The man wasn’t finished with the Two wheels. But they needed something to hold them together. He looked around. Then, he saw the tree. The rocks’ child. He cut a branches, shaped it well to fix it between them.
The two wheels were now connected by their own child.
Nature had once held them together. Now, it had tied them again, but as something new. They weren’t side by side anymore, but they would move together. Even though they rolled together, They weren’t the same. They weren’t touching.
They were near, but distant.
Just like real human relationships, where sometimes people are near but emotionally distant.
For the first time, not pushed by nature, but by man. They felt everything, the soft touch of grass, the weight of mud, the other stones, different terrains, water. And for the first time, they were part of something bigger.
A purpose. A journey. A motion that would never stop. And so, they worked.
Every day. Carrying. Moving. Existing.
For years, the wheels traveled with him. Through forests. Over rivers. Carrying food, wood, and sometimes, even animals. It was a cycle. They moved, and they were at Early Man’s Service.
But one day, it stopped. The man took them deep into the forest like usual, but this time, he didn’t come back.
They waited.
And waited.
And waited.
What they didn’t know, what they could never know, was that the man had gone hunting. That he had fought in the wild, he had lost, killed and became prey for an Animal.
His remains lay somewhere far away. But the rocks? They didn’t understand death. They only understood waiting. And so, they waited.
For years.
For centuries.
For something that would never return.
They had sat together for so long, untouched, unmoved. Until one day, something pushed them. A mistake. A force stronger than them, by some Animal.
And suddenly, they were rolling down the mountain. Faster than ever before.
Spinning. Tumbling. Out of control.
And then, IMPACT!!
The cart crashed. Everything exploded into chaos.
The two wheels were thrown into the air, weightless for the first time.
Time slowed. And in that one moment, before fate could tear them apart,
They touched once in the air.
Not by accident. Not by force.
But because they had been waiting for this moment for millions of years.
One last touch.
A HUGE SPARK!!!
Maybe this time, the spark was not fire.
Maybe this time, it was love.
Maybe this time, it was one last kiss.
One last goodbye.
And then, They flew apart.
Opposite directions. Opposite fates.
One rock rolled far into the valley. The other disappeared into the unknown. For the first time in millions of years, they were alone. No final words. No promises. Then, nothing.
The greatest love ever …… and it was over, just like that.
The Forgotten Wheel and the Birth of a God.
The rock waiting is nothing new to it. For fire, for water, for love, for purpose.
It wasn’t hoping. It wasn’t longing. It just was.
Nothing moved it. It had become nothing.
It just sat, alone, slowly getting buried into the soil, Until one day, Something rolled down the valley.
Another rock. It tumbled, bounced, and landed perfectly into the hollow center of the wheel.
A perfect fit. Did fate send it something to hold on to?
Or was this just another accident? Another cruel trick from the universe?
It didn’t matter. The small rock never left. The wind carried dust, burying them together. The rain softened their edges, binding them tighter.
The world is now changed. Years changed, it is now the 17th century, Empires rose and fell. Wars were fought and forgotten. And the rock?
Remained. Unmoved. Untouched.Unnoticed.
Until one day, A man arrived.
The rock felt a touch. It wasn’t like the early man, It wasn’t like the hammer.
This touch was… gentle.
And then the man wept like he has done a sin by touching the rock with his feet. Tears fell onto the rock’s surface. The rock had felt fire. It had felt rain. It had felt pain. But it had never felt tears.
Why was this human crying? This man saw something in it. And the rock did not understand. Not when the man left. Not when he returned. Not when he brought others. Not when they all knelt before it, whispering in awe. Not when the crowds grew, day after day, all bowing before it. Not when they cried, when they prayed, when they touched it with trembling hands. The rock had been shaped by time, by fire, by man. And now? Man had decided it was something more.
It started slowly. A few flowers. A splash of water. A little bit of color. And then, the fire returned. But this time, it did not burn. This time, it danced. It circled. It was worship.
The rock had known fire as pain.
It had known fire as love.
It had known fire as transformation.
But what was this fire?
What did it mean to be worshipped?
The rock did not know. But man had decided. It was no longer a rock. A God?
The rock had never known power. Only waiting.
Was this what it meant to be divine? To be still, to be silent, to be eternal?
It sat as humans washed it, prayed to it, covered it in flowers. It sat as they bowed, chanted, poured sacred water over it, painted it in colors of devotion, made gold and ornaments for it. The Rock sat with flames all around, as voices whispered prayers it did not understand.
And the rock accepted it. Because man had given it a purpose once again. It did not know if this was real. But it knew it was better than being forgotten.
For centuries, it was worshipped.
For centuries, it was loved.
For centuries, it was something greater than itself.
The first time they touched it, they whispered. The first time they bowed, they cried. The first time they bathed it in sacred water, the rock felt like it mattered.
It did not know what it had become. But it knew it was loved. Until one day, they replaced it.
And then, one night, they came again. But this time, not to worship. Not to pray. Not to bow.
They carried a new rock. Bigger. Shinier. More perfect.
They placed it down. And they lifted the old one away. Not with care. But with quiet, practiced indifference.
By morning, they told the world,
‘It has grown overnight! The gods have blessed us!‘
And the world believed them.
The rock had waited to be seen for centuries.
It never realized being seen meant being discarded when something better came along.
It had been everything. A part of a mountain. A tool. A god. And now… nothing.
Why was this always the fate of the rock? To be broken, shaped, used, worshipped, forgotten?
The same hands that had worshipped it… Crushed the Rock into dust. And just like that,
The ‘STONE’ was born.
A piece of the mountain. A tool of man. A god. And now as small Stone. No purpose, No name, No Memory, Just a little Dust.
The Story isn’t over yet
The stone was born. Lighter now, smaller than before. No longer a wheel, no longer a god, just a small piece of what it once was.
And yet, it still moved. With every touch of nature, it traveled. Through cities, countries, continents. Drifting, rolling, wandering, until it reached a shore. And then for the first time in centuries, it stopped.
The stone sat there, untouched, unmoved, for 381 years. Stone enjoyed every single wave to the shore and every breeze. Nothing disturbed it.
Until one day, A young man arrived.
He was barely 21. He sat on the bench near the shore, reached into his pocket, and pulled out something the stone hadn’t seen in eons.
Fire.
A flicker, a spark. A cigarette burned between his fingers, Déjà vu.
The stone remembered. The fire that had once destroyed the mountain. The fire that had tormented the rock. The fire that had transformed it into something new.
But this time, it didn’t burn. This time, it was nothing more than a flickering dance between the young man’s lips. The stone watched, mesmerized.
Fire had once been its Enemy.
Fire had once been its Pain.
Fire had once been its Love.
But now, fire was just…. a plaything?
And because of that, the stone loved him instantly. It waited for him the next day.
And the next.
And the next.
Every time, he came, sat, smoked. And the stone felt peace. One day, the young man finally noticed it. He nudged the stone with his foot.
The stone moved. For the first time in three centuries, it moved.
The young man kicked it again, rolling it back and forth between his feet as he smoked. The stone felt alive. This was their game.
Every day, the young man would walk to the bench, take out a cigarette, light it, and kick the stone gently, left, right, left, right. And when the cigarette was done, he would tuck the stone safely under the bench. And for years, the stone was happy.
Seasons passed. The young man grew older. His face changed, He lost his hair, He changed hundreds of shoes over years. His pace slowed. The kicks became softer.
One day, he arrived with a third leg.
A walking stick.
And the stone froze. It wasn’t just a stick.
It was wood.
And suddenly, the stone remembered.
The tree.
The child.
Could it be?
The tree that once grew between two rocks, had it changed, too? Had it been cut, shaped, carried, and transformed, just like the stone had been?
The hardest rock had turned into a stone.
The tallest tree had turned into a walking stick????
Stone wanted to believe this.
And in that moment, the stone knew. The tree had come back. Not as a seed. Not as shade. But as something to lean on. The cycle was complete.
But now, the man was old. He didn’t play with the stone anymore.
It was the same as always. The man sat. Smoked. Pressed his foot against the stone. And then he left.
The next day, the stone waited.
The next week, the stone waited.
The next year, the stone waited.
It didn’t understand at first. It had been abandoned before, but never like this. The man had always come back.
The waves still came. The wind still blew. The earth still moved.
But the man never did.
And for the first time, the stone wondered if waiting would ever bring anything back.
And the stone never understood why humans always did this to it.
Why they came, why they left, why they never stayed. Why it had been abandoned, over and over again, for millions and millions of years. And so, it waited again.
For centuries. For nothing.
The bench eventually collapsed. The wooden planks rotted, mixed into the soil. And then, one day, humans came again. They picked up the stone with many other stones there.
This time, they didn’t worship it. They didn’t carve it. The stone did not understand. It was soft. Sticky. How could something hold shape if it could not even hold itself? And then, it hardened. Stone didn’t understand how Cement works but It became a part of something bigger. Stronger. Permanent. Or so it thought.
A Huge Statue on the Shore.
Something beautiful. And for the first time, the stone admired man’s creativity. Even after all the pain, all the separations, all the changes, humans could make something incredible. And the stone was proud. It had a purpose again. It stood tall, overlooking the ocean. It watched the waves crash.
It had never been happier. And then, one day, The waves rose. The ocean screamed. A tsunami came. And everything was gone. The statue collapsed. The stone fell back into the water.
And for the first time in eons, it sank.
Deeper.
Darker.
Colder.
Why?
Why was it always like this? The stone had seen fire take everything. Now, water had done the same.
Would it ever stop?
It stayed at the bottom of the ocean. For centuries. For thousands of years.
It was forgotten again. Until one day, Something changed.
Light.
It had been so long since it had seen light. But now, the ocean was disappearing.
The stone didn’t understand evaporation, didn’t understand what was happening.
But slowly, the water was vanishing.
The earth was drying and the world was ending.
And for the first time in billions of years, there was nothing left.
No humans.
No cities.
No oceans.
Just sand.
Just rock.
And then, it happened.
A shadow.
A figure.
Something not human. It reached down. And picked up the stone. Its grip was cold. Its voice was strange. Would they break it, reshape it, worship it, forget it?
The figure spoke, Not in prayer. Not in song. But in curiosity. In its own language asked:
“What is it?”
And for the first time in billions of years, the stone wondered…
Maybe this time, someone would finally understand.
That maybe this time, it wouldn’t be forgotten.
That maybe this time, someone would finally understand.
That maybe, after all these billions of years, its story would not be erased.
Maybe this new world would listen.
Probably the new era wants to test the stone in their kind of labs.
I hope they find out what this STONE has been through in its past
*******************************THE END***********************************
Published on: 02/02/2025, at 1:00 AM.
© 2025 Rishikesh Jangam. All Rights Reserved.
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