Seeds Never Die

I was a seed; a small one and dark brown in color. I was deformed in shape, bending to myself. I was not handsome. I bore wrinkles on my body. I was hard and looked lifeless.

I preferred loneliness. I talked to none, beckoned not any one for an evening coffee. In fact I stopped eating and drinking after I became a seed. I had distaste for life. I bend and bend and squeezed myself into a deformed shape which men call a ‘nut shape’. I had no clothing except a thin skin in dark brown color. That was enough to protect me for I had no zeal for life.

Once I was a part of a promising stalk of grain, green in color which on maturity became golden yellow. It was such a beauty that all those who walk by stopped and envied us. There in the sun and water we grew and matured.

Maturity is a big problem. My bad days started as I began to grow and ripen. You are cared and appreciated as long as you remain unripe in green color.

I mistook men for their pleasant smile while I was green. I thought their love for me was sincere and everlasting. I mean, men of this world, those who walk on two legs and talk treacherous. They are cruel, lascivious and crooked. They never loved me.

Everything changed as I ripened. These greedy men came with sickles and cut me and my siblings away from my mother plant. As Jesus said, no branch can live disconnected from the plant.

It was the beginning of my death. Death came slowly. For us, a seed, death is not a sudden process. Very often I did lay thinking of death. Often I used to hear a voice without sound that told me that seeds have no death. Is it true that seeds never die?

After ‘the great cut’ I lost all beauty of life. I was thrown down to earth. I went without food and water. I suffered the scorching heat of the summer sun. I had to go through a fire test in my life when those men tried to blow me away from my siblings with heavy wind. I put weight to myself and managed to remain with them.

I was not worse than my siblings. I spoke no more than them. I resisted not the will of men. But I remained myself, for I could not in any way change. My color or shape, skin and smell all were attributed by someone above and away from me. So I could not change any of them. I lived as I was created for fulfilling the purpose of the creator. Though I was uncertain of my destiny, I was sure I had one. I waited and waited actively.

I do not know why, those men did not like me. They loved me not. So they threw me away, away into a dry land. There they left me crying for food and water. There they expected me to die and die for ever. I understood my fate, the reality surrounded me. I looked around and found no green leaf, no cool shade of trees, no shiny lakes. It was long since I ate or drink. This land will not provide me anything.

As I laid waiting for my last day, last feelings and emotions and my last breath, those men with heavy foot came and trampled me down into the earth. I went deep and deeper into the soil, covered with the brown earth. Thus I lost the sun and the moon. I missed the stars that inspired me to dream. I was sure not to see the sky again that challenged me for another life. My death was near and beside me.

Still I heard the voice without sound speaking to me that seeds never die.

I was afraid to die. I was afraid of the last moment in my life. So I decided to enter into sleep, an anteroom to death. I closed my eyes, closed my dreams and slept.

Then, I do not know how long after it happened, there came thunder, lightning and rain. I knew that rain could give life to seeds. But I had already accepted death and am in the anteroom to it. I knew that rain is not for me. Nothing in this world can enliven me. I hesitated to open my eyes; I was dying and nothing else.

Water filtered around me tickling my skin. I heard them singing a new song of life. I knew they were calling me back to life. But I was near to death.

But seeds never die. There was life in me, vibrant and eternal. It responded to the call, it realized the occasion and it woke up from the dreary sleep.

There sprout out a new bud, grew tall and stout and went out through the earth to look at the sun calling out to the wind. It said thanks to the sun, wind, rain and the earth that protected it so far. It marveled at the thought of God who gave seeds eternal life.

I heard someone chuckling and telling: “seeds never die.”

They tried to throw me away. They tried to trample me down. They tried to bury me. But they did not realize that I was a seed. Seeds never die.

Professor Jacob Abraham