A window, and myriad untold stories…

I doubt if there can ever be a more avid, unbiased and an empathetic listener than a room’s window. A window is like a caboodle of stories; stories that were never told to anyone, stories that will remain untold, stories not shared amongst the family members, stories including the ones whispered to oneself in the magnitude of the voices unfathomable by anyone but oneself. Stories of the childhood, youth, promises, losses, betrayals, happiness, sadness, poverty, and redemption. Yet, it hears them all displaying equal affection, care, vigil and avidity in the process of doing so, which makes me wonder if it’s really the lack of the light and the air that brings in the necessity of the windows in our rooms, or our vital necessity to let go of all these stories that would otherwise have to be carried on our shoulders to our graves.
A window, unlike humans, is not biased between the poor and the rich. In fact, a window in a room plays an equally important role in the life of the poor as it does in the life of the rich. Although the views that both see through it and the stories that both share to it are quite contrasting.
Where the latter often peeps out of it to grasp a few breaths of fresh air, the former does the same to escape the reality. Where the stories of the rich are more diverse ranging from the issues as trivial as a couple of hour’s power cut to the more serious ones like how to reduce the fat accumulated on the body, every poor’s’ story is more or less the same; centered on how to earn the bread. Even their complaints are same; usually centered around poverty which ultimately ends up making their goals same as well; to eliminate it.
What a rich child views out of a window is entirely different to what a child of poor sees. Where the former sees a hope for a better future, the latter usually witnesses his elders doing everything they could to feed him today.
No matter what stories both share with the window, it always seems to alleviate their pain, pacifying them both equally, and kindling in them a hope for a better future.
Which makes me wonder that can’t we be like a window, a non-judgmental, empathetic, and an avid listener. Can’t we just listen to what the other has to say without interrupting them, without giving any advice to them, without sermonizing them, without telling them that yes we are listening? Do they really need our advice; do they really share their stories to get a feedback from us? Does it really matter- our opinion? Can’t we just let them go off their stories- assuring them that their stories will be safe with us, and more importantly from us?
But we all are humans and that’s why we all need a window- primarily because they pump the stories out of us which would otherwise have remained untold and unheard, and more importantly because in the end all our stories are the same and we realize that the world outside the window was equally cruel to all.

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