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Brownie and his blanket..!

Dawood Ibrahim

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ONE column my eyes glance at everyday are the obituaries. Most of those dead carry photographs of themselves. I wonder whether the person having himself photographed at the studio ever through it would be used someday in the ‘death pages!’
For that matter I’m sure none of us have ever reflected on such morbid thought. Death is something we don’t spend living moments pondering on, do we? Finally we do meet death; unprepared. We meet our God; unprepared. What kept us from preparation? False security to a large extent. Our sleek new car. Our credit cards. Money in the bank. Loving families.
We pull these false securities over ourselves and feet warm and comfortable and as a God calls out to us everyday to meet Him and prepare ourselves for a life with Him, we don’t bother, hidden behind car, new home!
Brownie lived in the woods. He had a little wheelbarrow and passed his time in a useful manner picking up slugs and snails. Yet there was something lacking in his life.
Brownie had heard that the King of the World passed through the woods early every morning and made all things and people beautiful and new, but Brownie had never seen him. He longed to, but something prevented it. He had one cherished possession, a lovely little green blanket which had fallen out of fair queens chariot and which he had not been able to help keeping for himself.
It was cold in the woods at night, but the blanket kept him so warm and cozy that he never woke up to see the King of the World! Like so many of us, who never wake up to reality!
One day a shepherd looked deep into the soul of Brownie and asked, “Haven’t you ever seen the King of the World?” Brownie replied, “I do want to, but somehow I don’t succeed.” Then the shepherd looked deep into Brownie’s eyes and said, “I see something in your soul that keeps you from seeing the King, something that rather looks like a blanket!” From that moment a terrible fight began in the heart of Brownie; a battle between wanting to go on being warm and comfortable under his blanket and a longing to see the King of the Word.
I look again at the photographs in the Obituary column. They all look snug and secure. Smiling, eyes twinkling, laughing! Some blanket, they hid under, gave them such expressions. I wonder how they looked when they saw Death next to their bed.
They must have tried to jump out of their blankets, jump out of Mercedes and penthouse, but too lat they felt icy fingers stilling their breath as they were dragged into nothingness..!
—Email: bobsbanter@gmail.com


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