I am inspired with a story and this story has its definite shape as it acquires my thoughts. But I cannot say that this is what happens always. at times, there just a tiny seedling that drops onto the soft cushions of my mind, awaiting favourable conditions for germination, just like the peepul seed. It is also true that every now and then many such seeds drop into my mind. It is not possible to differentiate the peepul seed from that of grass. Yet, I can surely hear the wind passing through the dense foliage of the peepul. These stories resemble the wind passing through it.