I have seen legends being born. I have seen stories slowly take the shape of myths and then turn into legends. But few days back I saw for myself how legends die. We all love a good story but when it comes to living one’s life according to that story, it no longer remains interesting. We love the old order but we refuse to learn from it. Nostalgia becomes our staple. Pettiness takes over and then we dream of forming our own legends, stories where we would be knights and princesses.
And then we give the first blow to the legends of yesteryears. Sometimes we do them worse. We forget why they existed. Their truths become our senseless rituals.
And somewhere in some village, the old man sits with his hookah and reminisces, “long long time ago, in a land far far away”