It was at the back of a run-down palace beside a pond. He was sitting on a bench placed among plants of varied hues, a branch above his head hung with golden yellow guavas. The air was thick with a divine smell—a pregnant hush.
Unnoticed by anyone of his clan, and partly hidden among the shrubbery, it suddenly dawned on him that life had not been in vain.
The fruits were ripening and unappreciated. Flowers here bloomed unseen, their fragrance drifting away unacknowledged.
He told himself: Just live out your calling without any puff-up, and go all the way, unboastfully.