The cuddly young master in the hills | Sunday Observer

The cuddly young master in the hills

10 September, 2023

Sweetheart, you are nature’s most bewitching and beguiling masterpiece, staining, and tinting the world of my sky with a kaleidoscope of hues which leave me in fascination.

As the evening sky metamorphoses into an awe-inspiring and spectacular canvas of vivid and vigorous shades, I am compelled to trouble my pen and absorb your enchanted and charmed magic to share with the universe.

My gem, gazing and gaping at the setting sun is among one of my treasured things to do, keeping you right beside me. The placidity and quietude that I am enraptured with whilst I watch the sunset along with you over the horizon could hardly be atoned. With all your infinite and incessant allure and enticement, I cannot help myself keep looking at you. As and when I need to see you, I look for the sunset and you are frequently spotted there. You live in every sunset and sunrise.

You are the view of the Alps, butte, cliff, and crag; a view of an abundance of sunset. I live for the arrival of the sunsets with you. You are arguably the sun’s blazing and flaming kiss that illuminates a gloomy sky with watery clouds that are about to dispel a dancing drizzle. I love watching as the sunset pins a medal on your silky hair that falls unto your forehead. The sun cannot wait to embellish and adorn its energy and power on your cheeky peeky cuddling face upon which the light is cast.

You bring me a lifetime of a plethora of flourishing and resplendent sunsets which I am fond of touching into the eternity. I recurrently and predominantly dreamt of having a hike through and across the green bosk and boscage followed by a clambake, wiener roast or an Al fresco meal, taken over a glass of either Caliveda Pinot Noir or All Queens Rose Brut California, while you are playing the game of sand hopscotch under the gloomy shade along the ashore just prior the sun hides its face in the horizon.


I may share with you that there remains something crucial about a seacoast sunset that paves the way for you to have a contemplation and deliberation on your adorable, appealing, and delicate life. The more clouds you paint in my skies of imagination, the more vibrant and glossy sunset it would be, the sight of the sunset that is being painted on you changes the horizon; every sunset in your life is a hope, promised land and castles in air of your venerated, proud, and prominent ancestors who fought with tooth and nail to restore the lost glory of the land where you were born.

You are their sole source of happiness running through their blood just once in the exquisite and glorious history of the universe. Following a series of a sea of lingering and crimson sunsets, your pious and illustrious progenitors travelled far and wide to embrace the wonders of the world; towards the sunset, they left a token of appreciation on your enduring and iconic heritage in every nook and corner of the majestic and idyllic island of which pearls and gems are of its pride, joy, and dignity.

Your gimlet-eyed mom is watching you. In this distinctive moment, you may realise that you are growing up. Bringing you into this world of ours is a greater privilege of your ancestors. You translate the sense of humour of your parents. When your uncle imagines indulging himself with an adorable hallucination where his dreams are surrounded by you, he looks into your glittering eyes and realises that his sibling has already created one and that’s none but you. Your mom wakes up to the sound of your voice that is far more greater than the sound of music that soothes the ears of an ardent music fan. You are the grappling iron that distils every odd and evil. You are the mainstay and the ballast that your ancestors had often been eagerly waiting for from time immemorial.

You are the exuberance and euphoria whose trust and faith in your ancestors constantly remain unchallenged. Your kith and kin would be lost without the comfort of your blissful company. You are growing into a man and grow out of your toys, but within the deepest place of the hearts of your loved ones, you are still their cute little boy. The rich and lasting legacy left behind by your ancestors is a refined and graceful garland for your head.

You have always been the timeless inheritor of your prestigious clan whose roots had never betrayed your soil. You interpret your clan; you don’t make your ancestors inscrutable. You have often and always been in the hearts and souls of your ancestors; all that is theirs is yours. Even more than the time that you were born, your forefathers feel the utmost jubilation and triumph as they would hear the people refer to you as an aspiring, impassioned and endeavouring little master whose sight is a captivating and alluring encounter which casts a ray of hope that keeps your secret admirers going until eternity.

You have never been difficult to love, instead you are just growing difficult to manipulate. You pick up the self-esteem, dignity, and pride of your celebrated clan, board on a flight to an ecstasy and rapture of freedom which would land on the valley of transformation and revolution. You are on cloud nine.

Your ancestor’s love for you will never fade away, it is not truly gone, not just a while a beat, not arguably shattered, kaput, you magnificently remain in the heart of your ancestors. You never make your ancestors feel lonely; you deny their self-imposed seclusion. Bliss, glee, and elation are your self-glorification and amour-propre. Nothing about you is ordinary but extraordinary. Sweetheart, don’t chase tiny butterflies; be the bravest lion of your renowned and exalted clan.