Another Story by chat gpt
Markendeya Yeddanapudi
“The Boy Who Chased the Horizon”
In a city of shining towers and sleepless minds, there lived a boy named Ravi.
Ravi was born into a world where everyone was running — running for marks, running for jobs, running for more. From his first day in school, he was told a single truth:
“Your desires will never end. So run faster than the rest.”
And so he did.
He ran through school, winning medals and applause. He ran through college, building a resume of endless lines. He even ran through his meals, through his sleep, and through the voices of his parents, who once tried to tell him to slow down.
But Ravi didn’t listen. He couldn’t.
Because everyone around him was chasing something they called success — a shining horizon that always seemed just a little further ahead.
Still, Ravi ran.
Until one day, he woke up and realized something terrifying:
He was exhausted. But the horizon was still far away.
And worse — he no longer knew why he was running.
His chest felt tight. His thoughts were loud. He couldn’t breathe without counting all the things he hadn’t done. He became afraid of sleep, afraid of silence, afraid of stillness — as if they would expose how hollow he felt inside.
So one night, unable to bear the weight of it all, Ravi left the city and wandered into the hills.
He walked until the lights of the city disappeared. And there, in the quiet of the wild, he collapsed under a tree and wept — not because of failure, but because of a lifetime of fear.
In the morning, an old woman found him. She was the caretaker of a small herbal garden nestled in the valley.
Without asking questions, she gave him water and food, and said,
“Rest. The earth doesn’t hurry. Why should you?”
Ravi stayed with her.
At first, he was restless. No phone. No goals. No race. Just birds, trees, and silence. But slowly, he began to notice things he'd never seen before — the way the wind spoke through leaves, how the soil smelled after rain, the calm of his own breath.
The old woman taught him how to tend to plants, how to watch without rushing, how to listen without fear.
One day, Ravi asked her, “Why does the world tell us that our wants are endless?”
She smiled gently and replied:
“Because the world forgot how to feel full. Nature is always full — not with more, but with enough. But people were taught that they are separate from it. So they began to run after more, and forgot how to be still.”
Ravi sat with those words.
For the first time, he felt something other than fear.
He felt belonging.
Years passed. Ravi never returned to the race. Instead, he built a small center near the garden — a place where tired people came to remember how to breathe, how to rest, how to be whole.
He called it The Still Point.
And whenever someone asked what made him leave everything behind, he would simply say:
“I stopped chasing the horizon.
I found the sky within me instead.”
Moral:
Anxiety is born when we believe that we are never enough, and must always do more. But true peace comes not from chasing what lies beyond the horizon — it comes from remembering we are already part of the whole, rooted in the soil of nature, where nothing rushes but everything grows.
Would you like this story translated into another language, made into a children's version, or adapted into a short film or play format?