Death had forsaken the old man. Past ninety years, he knew he lived long enough, longer than expected.
Sometimes, amidst prayer-less counting of beads, he thought about life and death, his death, other people’s death…He wasn’t trying to find answers to the mysteries that he constantly felt. He just thought about the phenomena and browsed his wrinkled memories, where dreams collided with hope and despair.
What must I do? he thought, sitting on a wooden bench watching the traffic.
He felt the pockets in his pants.
No miracles.
He looked up into the heavens for some hint of help or answer. There was none.
He stood up and left.
Beneath his feet was a lump of gold; unseen, soiled and forgotten.
Yes, said the voice.
What? he asked, surprised.
Yes, the voice continued, yes is the answer to your question.
But what question? He tried to chide.
It was pointless. He had already forgotten the question.
Then he walked into the wilderness in pursuit of some meaning to his life.
Once on a bright sunny day, he came across a man looking up into the sky, his eyes drenched in tears.
‘What’s wrong? Why are you crying?’ he asked.
The man didn’t answer. Covering his face with his hands, the man continued sobbing.
Then, once on a gloomy evening, when the sky was overcast with darkness and the rain wet the earth, he came across an smiling old man. He knew at once the old man was different. The old man seemed happy and contended.
‘Why are you happy? What’s the secret?’ he asked the old man.
The old man was silent and continued basking in his self-realised contentment.
He was tired. He knew he was failing in his quest. Time passed and he found no meaning to this life, to his life…
Far across the foilage, he saw another old man in tattered clothes, bent like a bow, turning and tossing every leaf and stone on his way.
Curious, he asked him what he was looking for.
‘Memories and dreams,’ said the old man and disappeared into the woods.
At once he knew he had none of them.
He sighed and smiled as he walked into lush green open space.
The man alongside my bed was dying, said his wife.
Everyday, a young lady came to visit him. No one ever asked who she was, but there was something magical about her. The whole room seemed bright and almost serene with her presence. All the patients raised their heads off the bed just to catch a glimpse of her.
She smiled at everyone. Everyone smiled at her.
One morning I woke up and found the man was gone.
Is he dead? I asked the nurse making her round. No, she said, they took him home. The man’s last wish. I didn’t know what his last wishes were. I never saw him speak or open his eyes. The only memory I had of the old man was the young lady with bouquet of smiles and happiness.
I looked across the room. Everyone was staring at the empty bed, feeling lost and sad.
‘Do you know how old you are?’. He knew she yelled at him.
Two truths at a time. He was deaf and old.
But desire never dies, he told to himself and chuckled, staring at a young woman walking past him.
At once he was reminded of his youth along with memories that folded like sand dunes over the vastness of eternity. His was a fickle mind, easily preyed and consumed by worldliness.
He looked over and saw an old woman, her face buried in wrinkles. She was a beautiful woman once. So was he a handsome man.
‘You will always be beautiful,’ he remembered telling her once. How untrue. Along with beauty, their love faded too. What remained was bitterness, the residue of love that kept them going.
‘What are you laughing at, you old beast?’ She shouted.
He smiled.
Without any new post, this blog is almost dead now.
I feel too lazy to type what is in notebook and other scraps of papers lying all around the room. Maybe I will find some time to sort out and post a decent article…soon.
Today is just playtime. Googled all over and decided to use this theme. Don’t know if it loads well…
I must admit I have to visit some of your pages too…will do this weekend, for sure.
