Too Much Love is Dangerous

Its red fabric coat over the yellow fluffy fur was prominent among all the toys. It was another Sunday evening, and my father took me out to buy me a weekly gift, which we called “Sunday Gift”. This Sunday, we went to a stuffed toys shop, and I saw many different characters’ stuffed toys.

After wandering for half an hour, I saw a yellow Winnie the Pooh bear. At first sight, I was amazed and asked my father to buy me that toy. It was a little expensive, so my father asked me to study hard and get good grades in the upcoming week, and then he’d buy me this toy the following Sunday.

I agreed with him and gave all my energy and devotion to my studies the whole week. The very next Sunday, I was waiting for my father to get home so that we could both go to the toy shop, but to my surprise, when he entered the house, he was already holding the toy.

I was delighted after holding it in my hands. I named him Pooh, and he was my favourite toy in no time. I nearly forgot about my other toys, and the moment I returned from school, I would immediately look for him and start playing with him.

He so adored me that I sometimes tried to feed him.

Little did I know it was just a toy. Weeks passed, and it was a freezing December evening. My family sat beside the fire heater to warm themselves against the decreasing temperature.

I was sitting alongside my grandmother, and out of nowhere, I thought Pooh would also be feeling cold, so I placed him on the gas heater to keep him warm. No one noticed this as everyone was gossiping about the winter, but only in a few moments did the room start to smell something burning, and my grandmother, giving a small cry, pushed Pooh off the heater.

He was poorly burnt from behind, and I started crying seeing him like that. His beautiful fur was burnt to ashes, and his red fleece coat was torn off. My aunt and grandmother tried to stitch and fix him for me, but he has loosened his spark. This incident broke my heart and gave me a lesson.

If you water a plant more than it requires, it will die from your love.

Disclaimer: This is the story of the author’s son, and she published it as his childhood memoir. And we still have that Pooh in our home.

This story was initially published by the author on the medium