The sunlight
from the far end of west was getting fainter by the time. I touched my jacket
to check whether it was in place without looking at it. I could not remove my
gaze from the beautiful golden rays of light touching the leaves.
I was sitting
on a bench in a garden near my house. As the sun rays began to get fainter, I
put on my jacket to avoid cold. I also wore my shoes to cover up my feet and
prevent them from getting colder. The people around me were already wearing
different jackets and sweat-shirts to keep them warm.
***
“There
cannot be any logical reason for why am I asking you whether I can sit on this
wooden bench next to you…what do you think?”
An old man,
probably in his 60s, stood in front of me asking a weird question which was
hard to understand. He was 5.4 inches tall and round like a potato. His hairs
were whiter than usual and he had worn an unusual kind of hat. In India people
don’t believe in wearing hats for sure. Instead elderly people wear turbans. May
be he was an NRI living in UK at some point of time.
“May I sit
here?” He apparently simplified his question understanding the limitations of
my meager brain.
“Yes”
He raised
his hat a little to thank me and sat on the bench. I observed that he had a
very peculiar kind of mustache which often appear in old English movies…may be
he was an NRI after all.
“I see you
are sitting here alone…”
“Yes…I live
nearby. I normally spent my evening here watching the sunset and observing the
people around me.”
“Well that’s
interesting because I like to observe people as well. Do you only observe the
people around you or also try to speculate that who they are and what might
they be thinking?”
“Perhaps I
do speculate as well.” I saw his eyes were greenish and small. He blinked twice
after realizing that I was noticing his eyes.
“Let’s play
a game then…it’s not that I want to bother you or something…just like
that…let’s see what I think about the people and what do you think…you will
also need to support your theory by facts…If one could not then other wins.”
“I am a
writer sir. I make a very keen observation about people so it is unlikely that
I will lose…and alternatively I won’t like to take the credit of defeating an
old man.”
“Harsh words
young one. I am not old by heart though. Why don’t you take an attempt and see
how we go about this?”
“Ok”
He smiled in
return. I could see that his face was not much changed when he smiled. May be
he was habitual of smiling a lot and therefore face has adapted to the changes
which happen so frequently. Though I could see the grouping of wrinkles near
the corners of his eyes but somehow he looked younger with them. The sunrays
were still struggling to detach themselves from the leaves of the trees. I
looked at my watch; it was 4 in the evening. I decided to take the first shot
in the game.
***
“The lady
who you see sitting on that far bench with a child coved by her ‘Sari’…”
“Yes…better
than you can my friend…my eyes are still perfect.”
“I speculate
that she is child’s mother and is looking for her husband or a relative,
whoever came with her to this park.”
“Facts”
“She has
covered the child with a part of her sari which shows her concern for the
child. The sunlight has begun to fade away and cold is taking over the park.
She is trying to keep her sleeping child warm. She looks anxious as well and is
looking everywhere for someone. She also tried to drink the remaining water
from her bottle though there is no water left in that…so I am guessing that her
husband or someone has gone to bring some water for her…or she is looking for
him to ask them to get some water.”
“Nice theory
but mine is a little different.”
“And what
would that be?”
“She has
stolen the child from her neighborhood and is trying to cover the child so that
nobody can identify him and he is not sleeping but is drugged. She is anxious
because the man who promised her to help in selling the child is absent till
now. She is looking for him. She is also nervous because she knows that she is
doing a sin, therefore her throat is getting dried-up again and again. She is
not from here because she is not asking anyone for help to get some water. Only
10 steps from where she is sitting there is a tap where drinking water is
available but she has no idea about it.”
“It is
preposterous. Why would she steal a baby from her neighborhood?”
“Because she
is infertile and she is envious of the babies her neighbor has. She had been
trying to be patient a lot but a few days ago she completely lost her nerves
and made this bizarre plan.”
“It sounds
more fiction than a reality. Are the facts which you submitted are even coherent
to your theory?
“Think
yourself”
I looked at
the woman. She was surely in her early-40s and was looking anxious. She was
wearing a pale color sari. Normally women like to wear bright colors but in her
case maybe she was trying to avoid the eye-balls of the people. I thought that
old man’s theory could be correct. I
looked at the sunlight…it was still visible. It was taking sunlight a bit
longer to disappear today.
“So is she
wearing a pale color to avoid the eye-balls?” I asked.
“Quite
possible”
“But no…I
got it. If the child is hers then she actually gets lesser time to devote to
herself. That could also be a possible reason why she is wearing pale color.
She didn’t have time.”
“Well…” The
old man looked elsewhere which also was an indication of testifying my theory. He
took off one of his shoes and turned it upside down. He probably was trying to
get rid of something which went into his shoes. I observed that his shoe
probably was much bigger than he needed. Soon a small pebble came out of the
shoe. He smiled at the pebble and wore the shoe again.
“So shall we
call it as even this time?” He smiled again…the same unfazed smile.
“Hmm” I
acknowledge.
***
“You see
that couple?” Old man decided to take the shot now, “The cold days are working
for them. See how the girl had dug her face into the warm and large chest of
the boy. She is feeling the hormonal cascade due to the body odor of the boy.
Look at the boy how gently he is holding the hand of the girl. He is moving his
fingers on hers…which indicates that there is some romantic talk going on.
Don’t forget to notice the boys other hand. He is moving his other hand on the
thigh of the girl…gently and slowly, inducing the flow of estrogen more
aggressively inside her. They may have sex today…what you think.”
“I say this
time you have mistaken…and mistaken absurdly.”
“How”
“The boy who
probably is around 17 and the girl, who must be around 16, whom you guessed as
a couple are brother and sister in fact. You see the bicycle on the ground near
them…actually brother was teaching his sister to ride the bicycle and she fell
down during the course. Girl is crying hiding her face in the chest of his elder
brother. He apparently is checking her fingers for any possible wound. And also
is cleaning the dust from the body of the little sister. They are not trying to
hide anything and also the people passing by are not objecting at all…that
proves that there is nothing like intimacy going on there.”
“Well you have
completely changed the theory but you know these days couples are not daunted
displaying their affection anywhere. And people are also getting used to such
things in India.”
“How do you
explain the bicycle and crying if the girl?”
“May be the
bicycle is not theirs at all. And the girls have the tendency to get emotional
during romantic talks.”
I didn’t
want to but I knew that I would be endorsing the theory of girls getting
emotional during romantic talk…I have had experienced it. I looked at the old man. He looked confident
and to an extent, his theory was not unlikely as well.
“What do you
think?” He asked.
“I think
that it is not possible for one of us to lose. It is because whatever is
happening around us can be explained in several ways. Our brain picks up the
scene which is best suited to it. The positives and the negatives are just the
two sides of the same coin. Exactly like different people get different meanings
out of a same poem. The words we hear, the music we listen to, the things which
we see and the thoughts which we ponder upon are the non-morphological state of
brain which is made up of our own memory. And memory contains the things which
we have seen, books we have read, movies we have watched, theories we have
heard, intuitions we have had and the hypothetical images we have drawn.”
“Yes…in fact
I will say that the larger part is imagination because whatever you see…is…
calculated reflection of light. Your eyes catch the frequency of reflected
light and your brain draws a picture. What if the things which you see are
different in appearance than you actually calculate it to be? The sound which
you hear is disturbance of molecule. According to scientific theory there has
to be an energy loss in the process…then how is it that you are hearing what I
am saying? My voice box is disturbing the molecules and the sequence of
disturbance is reaching you in the exact pattern…where is the energy loss…if
you say that loss is there in the form of heat then why the pattern of
disturbance of molecules reaching you is the similar to what I made? There
should be difference in the pattern as well.”
***
I closed my
eyes. Everything which we see or hear is based upon the calculated amount of
light reflected to our eyes or calculated amount of molecules disturbed
respectively. Hence, everything is based upon a calculation. Beauty of a rose,
height of a cliff, roar of a loin or singing of a bird…everything is nothing
but a calculation by our brain. How about the feelings…are they mere
calculations as well?
“What are
you doing here?”
I opened my
eyes and Nikita was there. She was carrying a shawl. She quickly covered me and
touched me to see whether I had fever. Her touch was comely. It was full of
affection and care…it could not be calculated and was not based upon
calculations for sure. The sunlight was gone. I realized that I have been
thinking for a long time.
“Did you
take your medicine?” She asked.
I just gazed
at her familiar and lovable face. She looked pretty and endearing. Her eyes
were big and beautiful…it could not have based upon calculations as well.
“How many
times I have told you not to think so much.” She said with pseudo anger.
“That old
man…”
“Oh…had you
been seeing illusions again…god…I would need to call Dr. Parera. My
god…pressure on your brain is increasing everyday…I beg you to stop
thinking…doctors are saying that your schizophrenia had become worst…I am so
worried…please Manav…don’t you do this with me...I love you so much.”
Her
beautiful eyes were soon flooded with tears and big drops of saline water
started rolling down her lovely cheeks. She held me with both of her hands and
hugged me tightly. She continued whipping and begging to god for my well-being.
***
“Hey you
alright…hello can you hear me?” The Old man was almost trying to shake me up.
“Yes…no…you
are an illusion…don’t talk to me.”
“Are you out
of your freaking mind?”
“No…don’t
talk to me.” I stood up. The old man got up too.
“What’s
wrong with you?”
“Nothing…where
is Nikita? What have you done with her…you asshole?” I grabbed his jacket.
“What the
fuck…are you retard?”
“Where is
she?”
I pushed the
old man and he almost hit his head with the bench. He looked fiercely towards
me. His hat fell on the ground; I could see his half bald head. He quickly
picked up the hat and covered his head. For a moment he looked calm but on the
very next moment he ran towards me and pushed me with his whole strength. He
was definitely old but he possessed much more strength than I imagined. A
picture fell from my pocket of the jacket. The old man picked up the photo with
a lightning speed.
“You are
definitely a retard…you were talking with no one…there was no one out here…you
are nuts.”
He looked at
the picture and it seemed that he was stuck with a sudden shock.
“Give that
back” I screamed and snatched the picture from his hand.
He looked both
astonished and traumatized. He took a deep breath and walked away. I stood
ready for any surprise attacks from him but he kept walking till he reached the
lady sitting on the bench with his child. I felt weird as he started talking
with her and pointing towards me.
I shook my
head to shred away the thought of the old man…after all my Nikita said that he
was just an illusion. I looked at the picture. My eyes spread in circumference
and my heart started to pound loudly against the wall of my chest. It was my
picture with my family, my wife, a boy around 17, a girl around 16 and an
infant in the lap of my wife. And there
was a line written on that picture with a mobile number.
‘My husband is schizophrenic. If you
find him in any trouble, please call on this number or find any one of us…any
one of us would definitely be nearby.’
My brain
could not stop thinking about the doctors who told that my schizophrenia had
become worst; I could not stop thinking about Nikita. I was terrified to think
whether relationships are based upon the calculations too…no they can’t be. Probably
I was the biggest example.
I looked
impatiently towards the old man who was still talking with the lady surrounded
by the boy and the girl. All of a sudden I felt the warmth of a hand on my
shoulder, I looked back, and it was Nikita. She was smiling, and undoubtedly it
was the most beautiful smile I have ever seen.
“So what if
I am an illusion...I will always remain with you in your thoughts...come let’s
go to your family.”