The Chocolate Magic

Being a graduate was an honour. It recollects in him his graduating day. It was one of the best schools in the country that his father had afforded him into.

The formal exams wept over the dull college building. The dirty exam papers over the building whipped away the dirty snowy look and sprung colours of spring into itself.

He was a very simple boy and loved to remain within the earth. He never had tried to express his merits and potentials to the cold world around. He was born to be within himself and not to indulge in others matters. Not even he liked others to mar into his beautiful world of dreams and imaginations. He rather settled himself into his world that took the nourishment from his core being. He was beautiful and was beautifully imaginative and creative.

Neither had he ever expressed of his fortunes that seemed to wait on his rich family backdrop. None of his acquaintances ever knew about his fabulous provisions waiting for him at his home. He was well brought up, a sober and shy boy who would love to fonder within the normals. He loved to keep himself among the ordinary. And he loved to be ordinary till ... till the time changed for him.

He loved his father too much, and he loved his family, and silently of coursehis place and all about it. He had missed his little room a lot, especially his stands at the window that looked upon the ever-colourful garden of orchids and berries.

He missed his home, the taste of mom, and the smell of chocolate wandering magic everywhere.

The deep chocolaty smell could never be harnessed but would rather grow deeper their roots into his soul with every breath he had dreaming at his window. The wind is so intoxicatingly creative and chocolaty all over. Anyone in the land will breathe in anything but chocolates. Determining a breath without chocolates would drown oneself down his lungs filling with thick chocolate mass.

Every breath in the hemisphere was dedicated to the rich chocolates leaving aside the bees who would buzz all the way to gather the smell but were kept away in modernized systems and traps from the chocolaty land.

He remembered the bright days and shied for the bees. Everyone should have his share of heaven over those intoxicating chocolates. One day he believed in himself and did the nuisance.

Just beneath his room, remote from the locality, on the top of a flattened hill spelt with all the magic of berries and cocoa remained the paradise. It was the making of a paradise by all the intoxicating berries and beans.

The chocolate factory "Paradise" tossing the beans to heavenly taste - was his family paradise business.

He was a bee in the paradise and had never thought of its real implications until he was thrown out of it. The Paradise factory was a vast place just under his home. But no one was allowed to get inside it only the heavenly pieces of chocolate came out in level "Paradise".

People deposited their cultivation of berries and cocoa and were kicked out from the gate. The cocoa here counted as gold coins that replicated the name as locales pronounce them "Gold beans". Gold might have come to the golden brown texture that they cultivate and posses to be ofa special breed of the wonder bean.

Pirates had always thought to haul the gold from the land but were sufficiently punished. The gold beans did not last any packaging for their transportation neither the bumpy mountain path they were trodden down through. Those raiders unleashed their booty with a conquering pride but found only coal beans. The gold gets lost and appears to be coal with a drowsy prickling fowl taste.

The golden land unanimously belonged to the "Paradise". And the paradise held its blessings within itself and radiated happy souls all around who spent their living in cultivating the gold and submitting them to the glowing fortune of the paradise.

It was him who rather had a heart of gold. Perhaps the gold accumulated to a golden heart in the boy who tormented for the tearing skins of those blighted labourers soiled in the cultivation but were pinned for a penny.

Travellers and curious people strolling up from the cold plains down under to witness the autumn in the hill with all the grows to wander strangely how much good these farmers are to welcome them with all the gold they had. These people are so kind-hearted to gift their golden harvests to these strangers and make only good friends instead.

All foreigners had deeply felt for them and some suggested for their rehabilitation or some other any illustrious job away or a hall of fame for their produce but every effort were blurred with their innocent unwillingness. They were spelt to remain in the chocolaty land and nowhere could they go.

The most precarious thing that had happened in the chocolate factory is that seldom he had allowed anyone to enter was to keep its glass pane open.

The boy, Eclaiy, had rotted himself with the guilt of not doing any favour to those farmers with those pity eyes. This day as the sun was so warm over the mystic land he got drawn by his emotions and thought empty to keep the glass window open for the bees.

The bees became a replica of the farmers, and they all lived together. They nurture the golden beans together, cultivate together, and dance on their intoxicating smells together. Even they celebrate the cruelty of their imparting their hard-earned fortune to the Paradise together, just humming within each other, outside.

The storm was silent. As usual, there was no outburst but the victim was thrown away. He wondered how much harm the bees could have done and repented to the extremes of hell to see their dead bodies collected over the trap that flew like whirlwinds on the blades of huge fans.

All the bees were directed to die in a glimpse and none could gather into the taste of those cooked heavenly chocolates. The chocolate cubes ran as usual down their drying belts to rest into their peaceful folders and the bees were staggering their last breath to console on their friendly growing with the harvest which was sucked up inhumanly.

No marks of rebel were on the heavenly chocolates but the worthy carriers of paradise were dunged in hell.

He fell on his knees and thrust his face tough on the ground in repent; repenting not for his nuisance but for his act taking lives again of those lovely angels glowing gold into the land. He was carried high instantly by the strong muscles of his father.

He didn't need to look at his mood but he realised the extent of hatred and ignorance involved in the jerk that flew him up. He was thrown into his bed to repent for the night for the last time. He never knew plans were cruelly made to pluck him out from his heavenly stay in his coach to a distant land of materials and burns.

Morning as ever he had rested after such an unrest night while those determining hands of his father pulled him up to be carried through the hot tar roads down in the plains.

He had never imagined such a big colossal building in the plains to be called his new school. He was far far away. He needed time to breathe in this air of taint.

He would stick unconsciously on breathing heavily in search of collecting those fresh intoxicating chocolaty smells he was brought up with. Several wild breaths would unconsciously get into revolving his drowsy head in but would ultimately drop down heavy in failure and wake up suddenly to collect him away, away from the heavens.

Man is the slave of circumstances. And he realised that evil circumstances brought him into jail. As he accused himself of the crime of snatching the lives of those small angels inhabiting in the chocolaty heaven; he perceived himself justified for this hell.

He accustomed himself to the decent bars and collecting breaths full of dust and the smell of tar. He accepted his punishment but not for spoiling his father's chocolate business for the day but for repenting for the lives that dropped still, burnt from their heavenly flies.

His laments dried up and brought in a formal smile on his face as he began to pretend to smile in meeting and greeting people, of course not from the heavens. He began to make himself happy. And slowly he was happy. But this happiness, he felt, was different. Different from that inexpressive happiness he had in the winds of heaven. He realised though in hell he should carry the happiness, at least in his appearance.

With this, he learnt. And he grew. He learnt to grow happily in this painful world of measure and materials.

And he made it good. He was one of the best students in his college. His music teacher loved him so much that he wished him to be his son. Why not he be? He had the music of his heaven in his soul. Music trumped by the birds and insects in the blowing wind over the mountain pines followed by the buzz of his favourite bees flew in his veins.

His sports teacher loved him and wished he had always stayed back in his team. Yes, he was worthy of it. He has seen his poor cultivators never gave up on falling from the steeps and rocks but struggled down to the limits of their existence to bring into those heavenly berries and beans right from their extremes. He couldn't be stopped before winning.

Even his academics coordinator valued him the most. Yes, he tried down the impossibles to arrest his maths, logic or science. Perhaps those heavenly chocolates had spun up much of his grey cells to action. And yes as these wild berries and beans are roasted and baked over a fire to bring up the heavenly chocolates, of course, he considered himself to be fried and burnt into the same fire in his college to bring up his academic potentials to touch those heavenly limits.

The day was waiting for him. It was presumed to be his day. Already the school board had hung his merits and grades to show his potentials over his graduation papers. Now he is presumed by all to be the only eligible boy to be crowned as the student of the year on this graduation day.

All the pomp and grandeur was seemed to welcome him, open over the stage of life.

Yes, his father was one among the whole lot who glittered heavily among the crowd. He looked so much over-poured, excited and proud. His look had lustre over his predominant son over the whole pack of students in the college.

He looked to be immensely proud to bore a son of this fate. He was so proud to be the father of the student of the year. He was so excited to get in the awards and recognitions from those dignitaries just for himself. He was proud to invest in his boy, Eclaiy, and looked like counting on his returns to afford this premium college. He was so happy.

With all the lights and glamour focussed on this happening boy, it was warm over him. The world around was applause in a tone to accept him for the future to be nurtured in premium. The college had already provided him with a height and presented him with prestige in this competitive world. He was acknowledged. He was deemed to start from a height and fly above.

Every clap that bestowed him honour took him to the priority seat on the high-scale openings provided by those greedy campus recruiters. They juggle with the boys and judge every weight and height they can be leapt up to and the returns they can crop in for their business – young starters are high flyers with heavy yields. They all concentrate to pluck in the right one so they can harvest their money from him. It is so similar to those buying goats in the village haat market at a cheap rate to ratify their premium party in a 5-star hotel.

But the bigger dealer was from home. He snatched his son from all those decent probabilities and sat crossed in returning him to the home front.

The next morning he looked through the dark windows on his father's premium car. The smell of dust and tar was cut off with a mingled fragrance of lemon. Soon he was cut off from his precognitive world and he forced his face against the back glass to glimpse on his much-worked grounds of materialistic achievements. His childish efforts even now to stick to the grounds of his hard-worked realism faded just as before when he was plucked off from his wild home.

And the car took a hairpin-bend to climb on the greens. It was not those heavenly greens he had long seen before but they looked weird and tired dull as he looked through the dark window-glass of his father's car.

He remembered his childhood and to his surprise began to breathe heavy. Perhaps he tried to gather those intoxicating smells of berries and chocolates that were long wept off from his mind.

He gathered himself in a gallant mind in remembering his forgotten days. His eyes hunted to spot some of those wild berries and beans. The trees looked the same but they didn't bear those berries he had long missed for.

Wondering a lot he exhausted but couldn't question his father as it would obviously sound ridiculous to him. The distance gapped even larger between the souls.

Nearing to his heaven over the cloudy mist bearing the chocolate paradise, he started to wonder wildly. There were farms on both sides of the passage with well-cultured trees of beans and berries similar to those wild ones that used to spread all around the heavenly land. But they were not wild. They looked polished, well maintained and decent. They were planted in an equal distance in rows and columns over the slopes which were made by cutting down the steeps gently.

They were the same trees but they were not wild but cultivated. The farmers who were taking care were also not those mudded wild village fellows but people in uniform with gloves and boots. The wild smell had shifted its place for a light lemon fragrance that kept away the pests. Bees were extinct and so were the birds. He didn't faint to see that the whole cultivated land was covered with high nets so that the fruits were not disturbed by those stinging insects and singing birds anymore.

His father read his face and answered. Son, we cannot depend on those ugly native collectors who would gather those for us each day. I am your father and the master of it.

I rejected those village collectors and have started farming them for me; for my paradise. You know we missed you a lot. And on your well-bringing, we had to open new avenues. Now our chocolates are sold worldwide. You must have seen it! We have marketed them abroad. Demands are high and we cannot keep on depending on the mere moods of those gathers and collectors to bring in the raw materials as we have to make the chocolates for the world. And the world eagerly awaits their favourite chocolate. Are you not proud of your father?

The colourful bee garden that showed down his window was no more. It was dug up to erect a modernised boiler and a factory for producing chocolates at a large scale for the new age world. It was so much concrete all around that his heaven had borrowed some tar from the hell to create a new jail.

The top of the hill that baked paradise chocolates born by the bees and farmers of the heaven that brought happiness to all minds down under relishing on were all covered by concrete blocks. They were to be made strong to bear the grey chimneys exhaling dark breaths on their baking of chocolates with passion strong as concrete.

Before he had to react to anything he shied to the loss of his bee garden and felt sorry for those bees being permanently shifted to somewhere heaven as this place felt no better than those materialistic passions as in the plains with those ugly concrete structures. Paradise melted to bring out Passion.

Not even he had spent a day or two recollecting his childhood days and understanding where those beautiful-hearten mud-stricken farmers had gone he was called for in the board room of his father.

That day he collected his spirit to tread down the village to get some glimpse on to those heavenly gallant paradise hearts, village-uncles that he had always dreamt of in his imaginations. He was so terrible to see them sick and weak that pained him brutally to understand their bulging eyes, half-fed without any regular remuneration. Those sturdy people who used to win over the rocks and mountains and tamed the wild berries were crippled and weak. He couldn't stand to see their bones stuck on the skin as they were always the king of heavens to him. He sat over the edge of the mountain path and shared a puff of those ugly intoxicating smoke that his king extended over to him, speechlessly, only to forget the earth and realm in the lost heaven.

A messenger caught his straight to lodge him in the board room. He had learnt many things in his growing up. He threw the pain with the last puff and marched strong.

It was his proud father who now looked cruelly distressed. The board room was full of talented professionals from all over the state and world. They looked so gleam and that none had answers.

His father was in front of a diminishing graph. And the graph was showing the diminishing sales and turnover for their chocolate; a hen that pairs golden eggs. And the eggs were no more gold.

The demand for Paradise is drastically down. The whole strategy that the chocolate empire was trading all around the world was falling short of the lot that used to sell locally in loving hearts.

People are discarding the chocolate. Paradise is no more of love.

No professional had an answer, as the management is spending enormously on the marketing of the chocolate. But the Paradise doesn't yield any but the passion among the manufacturer is ever rising for more and more of it.

Eclaiy couldn't follow those high taunted questions from the angry face of his father. Nor he could follow the process of the meeting.

But as his father threw the junk of facts on his presentation paper on the face of his hired professionals who couldn't dig up a remedy to it; a paper with a diminishing graph that flew stuck on his face upside down.

His face glowed with radiant intelligence. And the down-trodden graph settled upside to glow with a vigorous upward graph on his face.

There was no choice but to keep on staring at his face. Anything other inside the room was so dull.

His father caught sight of the syndrome and dropped in his chair with a sound. All the other, the otherwise intelligent business administrators and marketing specialists felt a vacuum created inside the comfortable seats that sack with the sound, making them insecure to leap to a stand.

The moments elongated speechlessly. And an eerie silence crept into the room and filled up every heart. Most of them didn't know this new member of the board and others who recognized him replicated him as a small boy as they had seen him long before.

Those quiet moments stole everyone's thought and everyone inclined to pour out their minds en-blanked and kept on staring at the illuminated young boy. But he couldn't be read.

Of course, his face was still covered with the uprising graph but people wondered what the young boy was doing. Some broke to a relaxing smile as they thought him to be asleep, or even maybe dreaming. While others nodded down to discover about his face or his feelings beneath the paper or maybe any solution lying behind the luminous upward graph.

As he felt severely bad to understand the failing status of his much-prided father's 'Paradise' several questions arose in his mind.

Why people eat chocolates? To fill their appetite? No...never. Surely chocolates fill their hearts? Not of course appetite...

So what is in people's heart? What do people quiver at? What do we people value the most?What is the hidden invaluable in our lives? What is the most precious? Does it relate with chocolates?

Yes people pull out chocolates and devour them with closed eyes and leap into their love in imaginations. Chocolates taste like heaven when they melt down their mouth in their imaginative state. Yes people eat chocolates in love; may be in love with each other or may be in love with self or may be in love for imaginations or even may be in love for chocolates and only chocolates.

So love factor is common while you are having chocolates. He thought, may be love make a chocolate taste good; or even may be the other way;a chocolate arouse love in a soul. For sure, chocolates are about relishing on love.

The more love is, the better the taste of chocolate is. The better taste of chocolate only instigates more love in to your soul. And love makes the world chocolaty and loves makes the berries spread the colour all over that they bear from their soul. Love paints the world colourful. All you need in life is love, world becomes colourful and chocolates become tastier, but a little bite of chocolate for the love of chocolates doesn't harm.

People in the room whose vision circled him around were expecting some miracles from the youth and, may be for the sake of their painful board-session, theywere expecting an answer from the loving boy to turn their business graph upto a random growth as they could see it glowing on his face.

But the boy carried on in his course of imaginations with him and the board came out with no answer.

The unexpected expectations of those courtyards perhaps instigated more anger into his father. He pulled himself up to scratch the paper with the graph from his face and looked angrily on his happy-going gallant face.

He was made to stand up and to the blow of whistle he couldn't get through what orders followed to punish him for this nuisance.

As the people were saved from the fury of his father that got inclined fully over him, he could catch on the murmurs of those devastated souls.

"Poor soul", they murmured staring at him on their gentle flee from the board room, "could he be spared for being fresh into the burner".

"No this is injustice" they continued, "for a young boy, so sweet, as he looks".

"He doesn't seem to be his own ward, how can someone treat his own son like this" someone added.

"Its so cruel. Alone he couldn't be made responsible for the growth of such a big down-falling business."

"This chocolate is no more. How much can we fool people with these savvy pieces? Do they add any value in our lives?"

He struggled to catch on the lines and quickly figured it out that his father mercy him with a month to go all out on himself to anywhere in the world and apply any of his tricks and techniques to make his fathers' business graph as it reflected over his face.

He humbled himself. He counted it as a honour rather than a punishment. The quick change in attitude made him understand that he was strong and alone, away from all those escapers in the board room, who flew as been released from the task of marketing the 'Paradise'. He rather felt like being honoured his responsibility.

With a show of pride he met his father and this time he looked very anxious and knowledgeable as he shook his hand in official receipt of the opportunity. He was happy to have the opportunity to serve his father. He loved his father. And he loved his 'Paradise'. He loved the chocolate and its flavour that mingled with his soul as he was born with it. Paradise was in his heart.

It was not his vacation tour. But he looked like having one as he was happy to be on his tour. He was so reluctant to carry his necessities but to pack his small case with plenty of 'Paradise' in it.

When asked for his plan for the campaign, he stumbled as he had not prepared himself with any location or city, nor in any part of this huge world that Paradise was placed in and refused by people.

He pulled his bag up and turned on to his journey on his own. He relished his gate as it shut at his back with the sound he had remembered from his childhood. That childhood smile gathered over his face as he felt like a dream come true. All over his childhood, his memories gathered, he had dreamt of roaming in his paradise on his own, free and independent. He hated to look behind as he started walking down. He knew it won't be the same beautiful paradise garden but all clumsy cemented chimneys throwing black smoke behind him, which would pollute his golden memories.

He stumbled his steps through the smooth cemented pathways created over stony mountain paths as he walked down through the tamed farms with his loved beans and berries growing all over. His ears caught some distant cries of birds struggling to enter the paradise but were struck in the cruel nets of it. Ugly poignant pesticides nurture in stable growing of the beans keeping the bees away, but they bear ugly red being bored in anger without any naughty friend who had inspire them grow wild. Only methodical treatments and secured hands nourish their breed to grow tall and fat; and obviously poor and sad.

He felt for those beans with all his heart. As it was hard for him to untangle from the spread of love they produce on his soft mind.

He pulled himself to a pity hut poorly hidden behind healthy grooves. He had a habit of stealing a piece of heaven for himself inside this hut. Whatever his tiny life had forwarded for him he could recollect only that he felt like heaven inside it.

His favorite aunt who was the wife of the most weird uncle, damn unworthy of earning a fistful of life or food for her, but who spared the booty of the loveliest collection of berries for him from the impossible branches up above the tip of the mountain hidden for the prince of love.

He pushed the golden gate of thrash to peep inside his heaven. He forgot everything, even the duty pierced for him, or all the pain of losing the paradise on the passion of concretes, and any love or loss. He saw his old angel waiting for him inside the dark corner.

A heaven of smile floated on his face as it reciprocated from hers. He rushed to envelop her in thrash of love and admire.

She was then an old lady in her bones, who could hardly pull her arms and hold him in her heart. Her beautiful heart that was treasuring all the booties from the paradise was beating with heavenly drums but was failing to react for her malnutrition and weakness.

What occurred to him only the angel knows that he pulled out the most premium chocolates from his carry and peeled them out to thrust them on her mouth. They mingled and melted in her mouth with a glow on the old woman's face still piercing the prince's stride against her heart.

Communication flowed straight from heart to heart. Words were of no use. Eyes were one is to one as they stared at each other so close. Love melted between the son as to his mother.

Moments flew as the love in feeding the chocolate instigated a flow of tears down the eyes of the old lady. Realising the melted chocolates dripping over her lips he drew back. The one question he has abandoned his adobe for ever rouse in an instinct, "how is the taste of the chocolate, dear?"

"It's heavenly, son. It is the Paradise, I presume. What else will taste so beautiful, my dear?"

"What do you like in the chocolate, mother?"

"That you fed me, son!"

"What about the taste?"

"Taste came from the love, that your hands fed me, son."

"What???"

"Yes, your love, son, the taste came from your love"

He withdrew. Zeal of in-numerous intellectual creativity mingled in his grey cells and blinded him for a moment. "Ok it is love, my love that tastes like Paradise". Chocolates taste only love, love about the people together or far away or may be even the love of self.

He realised his relishing over the melting chocolates of the Paradise that kept him shut his eyes for a while.

For the rest of the life he gathered himself in him and he determined to keep his eyes shut that see the world around.

With his eyes shut to the realities of this crude life he determined to see the love in every piece of chocolate the Paradise bestows over the glowing world.

He determined on spreading the love; love from the core of his innocent heart, pure and untangled.

With every wrapper over the fruit of the heaven, Paradise, he carried his heart of love, in his message to the 'traveler of the heaven, Paradise' relishing it.

A little boy at a distant city of junk-concrete got a piece of it on his birthday. He picked it up instantly from all the lustrous gift wrappers as he got viral in search of love that it carried.

He held his breath to open the love out. It read..

"Soft, as my father held my hand for the first time, a promise flew. I remember when I was ditched from the school football team, my father held my hand. I fought back and won. I remember when I failed in the exam for the first time, every one doubted in my potentials, but my father tapped on my shoulder. It triggered a new start within me. The failed paper turned out first marks. It was love my father taught me, instead I learnt how to fight and never give up.

When I sit alone on the sunshine, and remember the love of my father, my eyes get shut as the only thing I see is him and him loving me.

I will love to remember my father alone and his love with the gift of love by a father to his son, Eclay, with the Paradise, where I am. The softness and richness of his father's love help me love the way my father loves me".

At the same moment of time an old woman on the other side of the globe in a dark night stole a piece of Paradise from her hard-earn money and a cramp of slap over the ill-treating shop-keeper's face.

She leaned over the street lamp and couldn't resist to reach his dark room that night, but to sit over the mild moon lit traverse mountain village side to grasp the chocolate in her palm and raise the wrapper to read the instigation of love on it. Her mind became immortal as she galloped...

I am the most beautiful woman in this world, the prettiest. Look at my eyes, the brows the sculpture of cheeks, my nose and my lips, my jaws and my chin. God has shown His greatest creativity on me. I am the loveliest.

Why not so, as everyone around me loves me as an angel. I love everyone and forgive everyone for whatever reason, as I am an angel. If I am not, this chocolate from Paradise will complete me as an angel.

The old grieved woman turned beautiful. And till the time she lived she lived like an angel; an angel in the Paradise of love spread by his innocent heart.

His love started flowing as the westerlies swept the warmth away with a soothing touch over weird souls. He gelled out the bruised with ice and warmth for the freezing. His love got viral in all souls seeking love in their living.

It was a destiny away in the heat of the desert, that a robber gathered all his booty on his most coveted loot alone to hide it in the sands. His greed of enormous wealth had fed him for the day that he kept swimming along the sand waves on his camel cart in a disguise of a native camel man.

As camels hid their most wealthy possession of fat that produce the water, gem of desert, for his keeping his life, the robber hid his wealth under the booty just over the gem. With the phobia of his looted treasure he had kept on travelling forgetting his earthily need of food.

It was when he captured himself fainting and that was not from the excitement of the wealth but his body was about to leave him alone, that he searched for the real treasure down his pockets to survive that his fingers pulled out the same familiar packaging of Paradise, right before his collapse.

He struggled to recollect the memory of his loved son, who pocketed the piece, probably the most precious possession he had into his father's pocket, with a small wish to God to keep his father as loving as he was even after the mission he was heading to.

His eyes blurred out and he recovered to thrust the juicy pieces of heavenly chocolates in his mouth and before he could react on anything he gasped on the divine strength of love, of course from the chocolate, no, from the love of his son.

He gathered himself up, steady over the camel carrying its paradise and also all the wealth his life could ever permit to store along. His life returned with it. And he understood the price of life and even better the love that kept him living.

He relished on the heavenly taste of the chocolate gifted as life to him by his son. He looked steady on the steadier sun that was scorching everything and him. He cramped the lines of love tight in between his fingers that could never be apart and leave the love go. He held tight the gift of love and life from his son and never concerned about the much known love spread by the wild mountain boy, Eclay.

He was illiterate, for him the letters were no good than the massive sunshine that dried his blood. Still he learnt the message written on it as if they were sent by his small boy far at home, away from the wealth he carried but much more wealthy to gift his father with a life.

He held them tight among his fingers, and realised the love. It was not from a message on the wrapper but from his son to his father.

He cried and his soul was full of tears, he understood his looted wealth is of limited applications as it could not raise love or save someone's soul.

He stopped over the nearby dessert village and welcomed all the young chaps that looked to be of the age of his son. His drowning eyes deemed as he opened the booty to them and gifted all this loots on the innocent child hearts.

As the wealth shone before their eyes they jingled and danced all around and took their pieces of booty to their homes, precisely to their homes.

He robber lied down in the cooling sands near the oasis and looked above. He felt himself to be the wealthiest man in the whole world. He spread his arms around to find that all the children had gifted dates and bread from their tiffin as a return gift.

Eclay was still occupied in spreading love over the world and was staring wild into the setting sun over his window of his much loved hut of his real mother that a messenger from all his employees and board members came along to bring in the same page with an uprising graph freshly printed.