Sad melodies of fruitless branches abandoned unhappy leaves in the forest of Galyat. Trees are busy in twittering, birds and streams are whispering that winter is approaching. A small little town in the midst of the woodland is shivering with cold and people are making arrangements. December would pass in a fortnight. Schools are closed by reason of winter vacations. Its 6pm particles of snow floating like bridal rose buds are finding their way into the valley. Mothers are protecting their infants, winter always fetches few babies from laps but ladies are trained in keeping their children warm. All the houses are same in the village of four to six rooms. There is a specific family saloon for winter is called Gohall. Gohall a heated room is a luxurious place in chilly wintertime. The gathered woods pieces are used and the fire never stops in the muddy spirited stoves. It is rightly demanded to claim fiery stoves life in death after experiencing minus fifteen degree.
Aman a boy about eleven is playing with his elder sister Ammara in the front yard of the Gohall. Rahat Aman’s mother lit the fire in the stove, it is a difficult task like setting fire to the rain but ladies of the village are master in it. Local bean bag chairs designed by the old women are too much comfortable. Aman and his sister are called to sit on homemade paraphernalia near fire due to cold. Aman’s grandmother often tells tales but she is very annoyed of his questioning. He insisted again grandmother loves him as grandmothers are and she took a charge.
Grandmother: I will tell you a tale of Madman but you have to promise one thing.
Aman: I promise, what is that?
Grandmother: I am not going to respond your questions, once the tale is ended.
Rahat and Ammara are witness of his promise and grandmother started proceedings.
There was a Madman in the city of wise people. Lives were busy and no one was noticing him. He held a golden cup for past decades; he himself as well as people did not know the function of the cup. He was pretty ugly that was sure and everyone knew him. He poured hot tea in the golden cup every morning and was starting his passage from his home. He offered tea to everyone he saw at the day but as he was seriously funny therefore no one was accepting his offer. At the time of twilight when he came back he operationalized his own offer. He was doing the same thing for past eleven years and he never missed the edge or the corner of the city. There was not any uniqueness in his offer he only stretched his arm to someone he saw and offered tea nonverbally. As the time passed on no one was even looking at him because everyone knew that he would not anything to offer. If it were known that he was offering tea someone might have observed his sore eyes but free offers were usually not considered. A time approached when pedlar from the village came to the city. Madman as always was at patrolling when he saw the peddler. He offered tea in a golden cup but peddler did not value his offer. Madman for the very first time started crying because peddler was the only hope and new face to him. People were rarely visiting cities at that time and peddlers from villages were coming hardly in centuries. Once the peddler saw him weeping he accepted his offer. Peddler knelt and had tea like he just finished vampire drink. The Madman went away and no one saw him in the city again. And the golden cup belonged to the peddler who was not peddler anymore.
Aman kept his promise but he wanted to share something with his sister. He whispers that it means life is like a golden cup where tea stands for the miseries. One has to accept miseries in order to advance meaningful life. You cannot find any serenity by escaping from human sufferings; in the midway of the human sufferings come the actual fulfillment of life.