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24 Hours

A Short Story


The Saruaon

The Creative Faculty of Man is indeed a high gift. So high is it, that it is capable of
creating an entire reality for an individual. It can not be ever entirely disproved that a
man’s perception and imagination are the constructors of his reality. A reality that no
other can ever verify; for on any such test, it will only be the concurrences that would be
noted by man. So strong is this tool that it has seeped into an all pervading existence so
completely – that it is hardly noticed. A man who is 4’ tall will never be able to see what
the world would be from the point of view of someone who stands 6’. Even if the person
is elevated, his view would only be that of a 4’ man elevated to 6’ and NEVER that of a
6’ man. People are different. The differences are not let go by the individual, however
fanciful an otherwise notion would seem. If man once becomes aware of this perceptive
variation, he might actually start respecting the ‘Other’ viewpoint. Or maybe that is just
hopeful thinking.
It was a sweet September evening when she stood waiting for him. She wasn’t much
impressed. There wasn’t anything sweet about that September or about waiting for him.
She was there at the beachside drive-in movie theatre waiting for him and he was as usual
late. She gave a sigh of exasperation and relief when she saw him coming. Before she
could say anything he gave the usual lines with the exaggerated dramatic style and
gesturing. She had never believed that it could be his natural way of speaking.
He exclaimed, “Oh my God! You’re still here?” Moving back a bit with a sweeping
gesture he said elaborately, “I can’t believe it. Am I by mistake early or something? Had I
been you, I would’ve sold the tickets on a margin and left.” He dropped the antics and
moved closer looking into her eyes before he uttered tenderly, “It takes so much patience
to wait for this unusually late and ultra slothful idiot. And darling girl, only you could do
it, again and again, and again!” She was the only person in front of whom he put himself
down. He thought he was entertaining her. She thought him to be what he acted as.
He had peculiar way of making her laugh. She had by then started giggling
uncontrollably as her naturally straight hair rippled about her shoulder. She didn’t notice
that he was noticing her. “You’re such an idiot I tell you! An idiot with a capital I.” her
voice that was too feeble for her age was even squeakier when she tried to control her
laughter. He wasn’t much of a joker but even his attempts were enough to start her off
laughing. He loved to hear her laugh. He loved to hear her. He loved her.
She appeared perfect to him. She always had. They knew each other since the days
they were in school. She was the smallish thing that was bullied by even her own
classmates. He was the rough giant who was easily a part of any group; even those that
were older than him. He was a year younger to her in school but was a part of the bunch
that bullied her. He was smart. She was delicate. Both were intelligent. They had never
been a part of the same class. They had taken totally different fields as he pursued
journalism in Delhi while she continued her Zoology studies in Kottaipuram. Their lives
kept going in directions that could not have been further opposite. Two years after she
had completed her master degree she was working to his surprise, as a HR manager in an
MNC; while he had quit his job with the Times of India to come back to Kottaipuram to
conduct a research about some perceptive model that she would never understand. They
often met and after some thirteen years of knowing each other, they still felt a sense of
excitement that was usually reserved for some interesting second date. But that was
typically them. He was conscious of the electric feel within him on meeting her. She met
him as he liked to meet her.
His eyes had the quality of making everything feel new when they fell on anything.
He complimented in her dress which wasn’t very new and yet she had a feeling that he
was being genuine. He brought warmth wherever he went. He was one of the very few
people that she was comfortable with. It was most natural for them to fall in love. He did.
He knew that he aught to. He couldn’t perceive any other opposing possibility. He also
knew that she wouldn’t accept his proposal. But he was going to propose to her anyway.
They were not to see that movie.
Moments passed as they realized that the movie had started some fifteen minutes
ago. Neither was interested in the movie. She suggested that maybe they should go in as
they had already procured the tickets. He said that they’d go if she wanted to. Something
was different that evening and both of them sensed it. He took out from his pocket, a little
box. She was amazed by the realization of what was happening. She knew what the box
held but didn’t want to know. She was wondering if it was another one of his jokes. She
felt that it wasn’t. She had known him for all those years and had sometimes
contemplated a relationship with him but had never been too sure. She wasn’t sure now
either. He dropped to one knee. He spoke at length. He spoke for a while. But it was not
his usual mock rhetoric.
“You may think me as the cheapest person in the planet for mistaking your friendship
as something more. Maybe I am. This is probably the most embarrassing moment in my
life. But I am willing to embarrass myself, as long as I know that you will be with me;
now and always. I first saw you in that twin ponytail as a kid in the 7th standard, since
then I have been in love with you. You’re the perfection I strive for. I know that this
sounds juvenile, but you’re the essential calm in an otherwise wild life. No one could
ever meet two people who are less alike each other than us. You were the Ice Queen
while I was the volatile Fire Sword. That wasn’t as poetic as I would’ve intended it to be,
but you know that’s true. But we always got along well. We did more than just get along
together. We were happy in the presence of each other. I’ve always loved you. And I
know that you’ve always evaded the issue. I won’t compel you to look into my reasons
for loving you. I would only tell you, that there wouldn’t be a person happier than I if you
consent. There wouldn’t be a person happier than you for the rest of your – sorry, my
lifetime. I will not beg for your love. Nor will I demand it. I will only stand and wait.
There are things for you to consider. I am not socially secure. I am a year younger to you.
You put any decision in front of your family for ratification. I know all that and still I
want to tell you this – because I have faith. I have faith in the fact that I love you. I love
you. And I can promise you that there is no other living being at this moment on earth
who loves you more than I do. I love you.”
It is never tough to detect failure. Detecting failure ironically is a sure step towards
failure itself; for we can detect anything only when we anticipate it. If we wait for a
failure to happen, chances are that a failure will surely happen. Again this adds weight to
the theory that the whole world is carved by the expectations of the people in the world. A
man who sets out with his vision of defeat clearer than his possibility of success has a
better chance of failure than a flamboyant optimist. It is even strangely funny, that a
person who has decided to fail is the one who fights the hardest to give an illusory hope
of a reversal. But again, he is the only one who is most sure that the failure is bound to
happen. Is this trait inherent? Surprisingly No! The reason for the fear of failure or
perceiving defeat is Insecurity. It is the Insecurity about the correctness of the decision
that one has made on the particular issue. The more important the issue is considered to
be, the more insecure is the person about what he thinks. The more assertive he acts to be
about his point, the more insecure he is. Simpler put, the higher the value of gain that
may result from the decision, the higher the fear of losing it.
She didn’t have an answer for him.
It was not much of a surprise as she had always known that he loved her. Only, that
she had never expected to be confronted with the actual decision making. She didn’t
know what was going to happen next.
“I don’t know what is going to happen next.” Her voice was breezy. He winced. A
‘no’ would’ve been better. He stopped himself. A ‘maybe’ was better than a ‘no’. Maybe
she would consider. He would never accept a ‘maybe’ elsewhere, but here it was
different. Love was about exception-making. He was still there on a single knee waiting
for what she would say.
“I have always liked you. You know that. But this is something that I can not decide
just at the moment. I need some time. Like… I’ve never seen you as anything more than
a friend till now. And even now, I am worried about you, because you’re my friend. Why
do you think about me like this? This might just be a passing crush that you have on me.
You are a traveler and keep meeting new people. You’ll be meeting girls better than I.
Have I behaved in any way that was suggestive?” She started averting her eyes from his
half way through the conversation. She was lying in self-defense and didn’t want to
continue in her line of obvious defense. As a girl, she couldn’t give a direct answer, she
thought. The moment she started being guarded, he stopped listening. He rose and neared
her with his ideas locked at the tip of his tongue and stepped back. His brow was creased
for a moment before his face broke into a smile. She could not have meant what she said
in the way he had understood. She was his perfect Goddess. She could not have thought
like any other girl. She definitely was not trying to hook him in with twin layered
arguments, he believed, she is just genuinely confused. I’ve never been the most reliable
of people, he reasoned to himself.
“Hey… I totally understand what you are saying. You’re right. You’re so important
in my life that I still place you higher than my feelings. Listen, I would never force this
conversation or idea upon you ever again. Because I know you and I know that it would
be unfair on my part to constantly torture you. You can relate with me in your usual
confidence. I wouldn’t bring up this matter ever at all. I give you my word. Never, except
once. I want 24 hours exactly to try convincing you. That would be a full day date. That
would be the only day I would tell you that I love you. I would just try and give you the
reasons as to why this relationship would be a great success. I just need those 24 hours.
Thanks a lot for listening to me. I need to go now. I’m sorry but I have some work left
He didn’t have any work. He couldn’t stay there anymore. He was getting highly
uncomfortable. He had to go and write something. That was his only relaxation. He
dashed off from her sight. He didn’t know what she had intended to reply. He never
waited to find out. He had made the plea of the 24 hours he needed. And 24 hours was all
that he would ever need. 24 hours was a really long time to tell a woman that he loved
her. But it was going to be just the first day of the rest of their lifetime; a lifetime where
he would never be tired of telling the truth; the truth that he loved her.
Mistakes happen. If a mistake happens where there was no possibility of avoiding its
occurrence by the individual participant in the event – then that can not be counted as
mistake proper. Or in the dictionary context, I stand corrected as they are mistakes proper.
The other mistakes that I take in observation are the type that can be classified as human
error. Errors are mistakes that happen as a consequence of usually negligence of the
glaring incongruence of previously available data. Simpler put, they happen when we
misread the situation. Or, sometimes we just do not read the situation at all. The paying of
attention to the detail, when performed constantly, would increase the level of overall
efficiency. This degree of paying of attention to the detail is inversely proportional to the
subjective involvement to the object of observation i.e., we tend to overlook the most
glaring errors in the people we like; while we tend to be extremely critical of those who
are not in a favorable disposition with us. This is indeed an inherent trait in man which is
considered to be a social fallacy, particularly in an organizational setup under the name –
favoritism. But this is one of the more regular practices in the informal walks of life,
especially in the contexts of familial relationships and romantic relationships.
It was a Sunday morning where she didn’t want to wake up. She was the lazier kind.
But she wanted to keep her word. It was 5:45 in the morning and her after-thoughts about
her committing that odd time was not going to help her. She had an internal debate before
she hit the snooze button on the alarm. No one was going to be so much on time. She
would get up in another five minutes; the same thing she had told herself five minutes
She was surprised and slightly irritated at six in morning as there was a knock on the
door. She had left the main door open. Her family was not in town that weekend. They
had gone for a wedding which she had avoided citing a conference as a reason. He had
called her the night before and had told her that he was prepared. He was willing to start
the 24 hours whenever she was ready. She suggested the next day. He took the word as
the final judgment and had told her that the twenty four hours would start at six o’ clock
in the morning that Sunday.
He walked in with a breakfast tray. “Breakfast at bed! Special offer! If you make the
right decisions today, this would be extended for a lifetime!” He announced. She knew
what would happen for the rest of the day. She excused herself telling that she had to
freshen herself. It was not the greatest of starts as he had burnt most of the food. She ate
unwillingly. She didn’t want to disappoint him. The orange juice was salty. It was too
much for her and told him the same. He was mildly amused first and then sheepishly
corrected her saying that it was a new recipe. He didn’t mention the fact that he had just
used the concentrate that her mother had left in the fridge. She knew that the glass in the
fridge was her mother’s orange peel extract for her facial. The day was just beginning.
Effort is the only thing that makes the target important. The worth of what one
achieves is always a constant. But the amount of joy that the worth has for an individual
is solely dependent on the person’s effort in obtaining the same. Worth is the relative
constant. It changes in the perception of different individuals or even for the same
individual at the varying points of time. The glow of a shining fragment of the picture is
highlighted equally by the lack of shine at the other parts of the picture. The absence
influences equally, if not more, the outcome as the presence. Effort is thus the most
visibly invisible part of a work. When the effort has been consistent and diligent it shows
in the outcome by not showing itself; for it is always the shoddiness of a second hand
work that is most glaringly seen. Aesthetics, therefore, is a basic precept in the process of
They were speeding at a 100kmph leaving behind the coastal city of Kottaipuram.
She was amused at the prospect of leaving the city, but knew him enough to trust him.
She was merely enquiring when she asked him where they were heading. There was a
smile that graced his lip as he pressed on the gas pedal with his eyes keen on the road. It
was at seven twenty in the morning when they reached at the Ra Research Institute and
Resource Centre for Philosophy. It was a simple building but of great renown with some
of its fellows being globally acclaimed scholars. The institute accepted nothing but the
best of the best. It had one of the most extensive documentation centers and research
library for philosophy and boasted the finest teachers in the same field.
He entered the place with familiarity and she followed him unquestioningly. There
weren’t many around and he seemed to know those who were there. They went to the
second floor where he opened a room. She noticed that he had the keys for the room. The
room was bare save a computer on a large work table, two chairs and a book case. The
window facing the sea was open. He turned to her and said, “Well, this is what I am
doing. I quit the Times for this. This is my life.” She looked at him with a lazy
bewilderment that seemed to say, what? He held up a bunch of loose sheets. They were
printed with many a pencil corrections, insertions with arrows leading to bubbles and
lines being scored off. It took an effort to follow what had been written there.
He said with a glowering pride laced with the shyness of someone unused to
introducing his life’s work, “Well, this is the perceptive model I am working on. I didn’t
give you much detail earlier as I wanted to surprise you. I am one of the research
scholars. Five scholars get into the Institute every year.” She looked up from the sheet
and nodded her head slowly, “Oh. Congrats!” He did not know how to proceed further.
He was silent for a few moments and said, “This is not exactly a psychological or
communicative model that I am working on. It is mostly a conflict resolution
methodology that is based on the observations about human perception. It particularly
deals with how… You’re not interested are you?” He was sure that something was wrong
in the way she had responded – or rather, not responded him at all. He could not figure
out what he had done wrong. He was sure that it was he who was wrong.
She looked up again and said, “Oh, nothing of that sorts. Why do you ask? Just
looking at some of your pieces here – about the creative faculty, empathy, perception,
choices, etc. I can not say that I follow these ideas. But they appear very profound. Good
work!” She was very vague and he couldn’t comprehend how she was not excited by his
life’s work. It was the highest that he had done. It was his best. And definitely the best of
a person ought to evoke a bit of interest. She was well read and definitely she would’ve
understood that what she held in her hand was going to change the way philosophy had
appeared to the common man. He smiled as he automatically corrected himself, that it
was intended for the uncommon man; to make him feel just that.
She carelessly dropped the file on the table. She smiled a bit too clumsily; it was not
her natural smile. She said, “It is so sweet of you, taking me to your work place and all. I
like it here. The view is beautiful and it is such a nice spot and your work… It is so… It
is so deep!? Yes… That is what it is… It is profound and deep… I guess!” She added a
guffaw. They were just awkwardly standing there for the next five minutes. They did not
know what to do. He then motioned her that they would leave. She was visibly relieved.
She had no clue as to why he had brought her there early in the morning. She would
never understand.
He wouldn’t understand either. He would never figure out why she had not been able
to see how much it all meant to him. He then was angry at himself for making a very
stupid assessment that she would want to see where he worked. It was too self-important.
But even before that idea materialized in his mind, he knew that he was cheating himself
if he said that. He couldn’t see that as anything else but the highest form of expressing his
love. He had let her touch a part of himself that the world would hold as a path-breaker in
the years to come. It was a tribute to her glory. He dismissed all those thoughts as they
got back in the car. He would, thankfully, never know that she did not even know the title
of his work.
An individual’s work is his highest manifest and therefore his best possible image. A
man’s work will never be true unless there are two levels of purpose in what he does.
First is the individual’s essential sense of completion. He would not have the feeling that
he has worked unless he knows that the tangible portion of the work will always stand as
a verifiable witness of what he has done. It is not the gratification of reassurance from the
others that completes this picture-postcard of bliss, but rather the fact that the
completeness is an end in itself, gives the fuel of his living. The second level of purpose
is of direction. Direction educates the individual about the function of the process that he
is currently undergoing. It is the element of personal gratification and gain in the long
term; the value of the individual piece in the jig-saw puzzle of man’s search for meaning.
When any process does not give a fitting answer for either or both of the elements, then it
automatically means that the individual is either misled about the reason of external
referencing or has been concretized with a wrong set of referential points.
They drove back in silence as his occasional remark about the pleasant weather and
driving in the city was replied with her nod or a monosyllabic answer. He did not drive as
fast he had in the morning. On reaching the city limits, he steered clear of the city route
and took the bypass to the bridge across the hill. They drove further inland and he
stopped the car by a lonely avenue. The last building they saw was a mile away and that
was the Lion’s Ranch. They were at the periphery of one of the most beautiful private
zones in the country. He got out of the car and sat on the hood and beheld the scene with
a smile.
She was not sure as to why they stopped there. She waited for a few minutes and
then got off the car and stood by him. She looked around a bit but decided to find out
why they were there. It was not that she did not like nature; just that she felt nature to be
an indulgence, not an innate part of one’s existence. Nature was his breath. He jumped on
to the hood and gave a wild cry of joy at which she was startled. He laughed to look at
her being shocked and declared loudly, “This is my essence. You’re now seeing me in my
element! And this is what I wanted to share with you; a life filled with vigor and passion.
I wanted to let you have a glimpse of this spiritual mode of thriving. I want you to be here
because I love you.”
He couldn’t bring himself to believe what happened next. He would have understood
had she flushed red with embarrassment and been angry towards him. He would have
liked her to call a quit to the day and walk off on the account of him being too pushy. She
laughed. He could hardly see any point of ridicule in what he had just done, but she was
laughing uncontrollably. She noticed his quizzical look and stopped laughing. She had
thought that he was joking. She had expected roses and chocolates and a candle-light
dinner. She had foreseen anything from a together moment on top of the Fort to a
speedboat cruise in the bay; anything but this.
He was embarrassed and got off the hood and asked her in good humor as to why she
was laughing. When she told him that his doings were something unexpected, he took it
in a positive light. He was encouraged, though his reason suggested that she was not able
to comprehend the depth of what he was telling her. He suspended reason for that
moment. It was all about exception making and risk taking. He felt as if he had been
struck strongly in the solar plexus. He realized what he was doing. Exceptions were for
those who understood. He realized everything that was happening. He told her that he
wanted to marry her. She avoided his eyes and silence ensued. The lacunae completed
and confirmed all his thoughts. He felt that he was the most blessed person on the planet.
There is a strange quality about the observations that had always been detected, but
not beheld in complete comprehension till now. Today, I realized that the observations fit
the pattern of a regular person and there is a case pattern of anomalous behavior too. The
huge surprise is that, the majority number of people fit into the pattern of anomaly better
than in the regular pattern. Though governed by many parameters, a general precept of
difference can be established in a singular rule – the rule of value negation. The
anomalous pattern is construed by people who intend to gain something of value and are
not willing to put in the equivalent amount of work towards the same. It is noticed that
usually all human beings hold some adherence to some level of regularity in the human
pattern and the delinquency is caused primarily by imitation of impotence that is
successful due to this ploy. The delinquency, in the softest terms, is a cancer that eats
away at the society.
He held the door open for her before getting into the car. He turned the key. It did not
start. She panicked. He told her that there was no cause for worry and kept trying to start
the engine. Five minutes of trying had him doubting his own lines. He was slowly getting
worked up and banged his fist on the steering wheel before he got off the car. He opened
the hood and stood there gazing for a few minutes before she got off the car and asked
him if he knew what was wrong. He looked at her seriously and said that he did not know
anything about what was under the hood and was just staring. She did not laugh this time
even as his face cracked into a bright smile. He heaved at the joke that missed its mark
and said that he needed to get the coolant refilled for the vehicle.
He called the mechanic who promised to reach there by another half hour. It was
nine in the morning. He suggested that they take a walk till the mechanic arrived. She
neither refused nor accepted readily. He insisted telling her that it would be fun to go for
a walk in the wilderness. She walked besides him. She walked with her hands folded
across her breast without saying much. He knew that she usually spoke little, but he knew
that there was more to her silence; she was uncomfortable. He asked her if anything was
wrong. She said that she was alright. She said that she had known him for a long time and
there was nothing for her to worry about. She was very comfortable, she said. She spoke
too much in too short a time. He smiled at the irony; for she was indeed comfortable. For
that matter, even too comfortable with the way things were.
It started raining as he was contemplating his mode of action. He took a deep breath
and felt united with the fresh soil that was getting drenched. He was joyous as a cub
playing with his mother. She understood now as to what he meant when he said about
being in his element. She appreciated what she saw when he jumped to taste the raindrops
hitting his face but couldn’t want to want it. It was a life different from hers. She could
never know what he saw. His eyes were different. When she understood this, she was just
passive as ever. She did not want to take up the responsibility of telling him – for that
would mean that she had to explain the reasons. She did not want to do that. She decided
to go along with the things till the end of the day. She hated confrontations. She hated
him for making her realize that.
Water, ice and vapor are best analogous to explain the trinity of perceptive
personalities. They are the three forms of the same thing – none higher or lesser in their
basic composition, but different in their manifest properties of action. The ice is as
capable of steaming as the vapor was of creating blizzards; the situations brought out the
particular dimension in accordance. The difference in the forms also allows us to see
what would not be detectable in the other forms. The oil locked in water would surface
independently when frozen. The individual who is friendly when in his comfort zone
might turn snappy when their security is threatened. The three fold forms of an individual
are: 1. the individual in his personal bubble, 2. the individual in an alien turf, 3. the
individual as a part of and/or as a response to a hierarchy. The essentials are the same in
any of the avatars, but the nature of behavior can not be farther apart than between two
forms of the same individuals. The extent of difference between two altering egos is
directly proportional to the level of anomaly in the individual. A regular person usually
has all the three forms more or less on the same plane.
It was eleven o’ clock when they reached the Fort. It was raining rather heavily. She
could not stop from getting bored. He seemed to be lighter than what he was before. He
was most spirited and exuberant. It seemed that he had forgotten that she even existed.
She got annoyed after fifteen minutes of staying in the car and started honking the horn
till she lost her last traces of patience and got out of the car and went to him. Throughout
the day, she had been irritated by what he was doing. She had never done anything rash in
her life. She was known for her moderate approach to life. She was a peaceable person.
She would not welcome confrontations. Bang! All of that changed then.
It thundered when she started speaking. They were standing on the hill that
overlooked the city of Kottaipuram. It was only fitting that she erupted as a volcano on at
least a hill. Her voice was not the level monotone but a crackling screech. She did not
know how to control the voice, as she had never in her life raised it so high. She looked
him in his eyes as she said, “Who do you think you are? You insecure, perverted,
manipulative creep! You think you are extremely smart trying to convince me of your
love with your feigned innocence and theatrics! The orange peel juice was such a
beautiful sham. I was almost foxed that day when you acted as if you were proposing to
me. You were very much the tentative stupid man who had never approached a girl. I do
not know where your perfect falsehood is going to take you. The Son of Nature crap was
a bit too much though. Your naïve act is not going to get you anything. You are a hollow
sham. You are untrue. You are not possible. You are not real. But this is what you least
expected from me didn’t you? You did not expect me to call your bluff. You are not real.
Aren’t you! Aren’t you!?” Her voice dropped to a sob when she sought reassurance from
him, “Aren’t you?”
He knew that it was the cruelest thing to do, but he knew that he had to do it. He
smiled slowly at her. He did not move a muscle but it was as if he had pushed her to the
ground. She was still standing but had hit the bottom of the deepest pit. “This is the only
thing I wanted from you. I start answering you by accepting my error in judgment when I
proposed to you. My love was an assumption while my insecurity was my mind’s
automated defense mechanism against that same folly. I suspended thought and thus am
guilty of the Greatest Sin. I slowly awakened to my blunder and would’ve stopped the 24
hours when I knew for sure. But felt that I should give something to my friend, who
despite everything, was a wonderful person – though unfortunately only from a distance.
I have now made you question your perception of what I am. Implicitly you have
questioned who you are. The ensuing choices are entirely yours. Am I the falsehood? I
leave things there. Thanks a lot, for I have learnt a most important lesson here.”
He started walking away as she stood dumbstruck. He stopped near the car and
turned calling out to her, “It is twelve now. I had asked for 24 hours. It has been just six
hours; but actually twenty four hours have come to pass as I met four of you; the you who
wanted to avoid the issue – in your comfort zone, the you who wanted to live through
something that you knew that wouldn’t work – in your challenged situation, the you who
could not even recognize the highest tribute offered – in your hierarchy. The fourth vision
was another of your reaction to the challenge – a stance where you would fight; and fight
you did. My 24 hours are over. I thank all of you.” She did not say anything. He said,
“Come, I’ll drop you off in your home.”
She silently got in the car and turned to him and said, “So, here the clock stops – at a
moment to your 24 hours’ end? I do not know the sense of justice you have, that punishes
me for a fault that was the world’s and accuses me when you were equally a criminal. I
will go home and choose to act as if there was no choice to make. But that itself would
acknowledge the impact that your 24 hours had on me. I would hate you, all my life. Or
cheat myself telling that I do, for I know that my clock stops here, a moment before your
24 hours ends. You will choose a future and live it, while I will be forced to live being
conscious that the only part that was real in my life was a past – a part of your past.”
It thundered again. He got off the car and started walking away from it. It was
raining heavily. He was in his element.
It is the most shocking discovery to know that the common or regular people are in
reality a microscopic minority. It is the anomalous pattern that dominates the way the
world functions. It is the anomalous people who choose to evade choices and let the
world crumble around them – personally, socially and historically. It is shocking to know
that the Right Man is actually the Uncommon and the Irregular man.
‘They are not ‘One’; and they are thus, a Legion.’