Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Birth of a man

Every story should have a beginning & so this story begins with a 15 year old boy sitting in a hesitating posture.  Neither was he in love, nor was he about to commit crime. He was sitting in a barber shop, contemplating how to garner courage. He needed that, because he knew the barber was about to use unsterilized blade on him; yet again. As the barber moved toward him flashing the bio-weapon, the boy’s eyes were transfixed: not due to fear, for he had forcefully overcome it 6 years earlier by jumping from his two-storey building (into a sand-pit btw) repeatedly till it became fun. His only concern was not to hurt the barber by pointing out his lack of general awareness. You see, as a younger boy whilst adulating the patience & bravado of Karnan (a character from Mahabharata), his imaginative relative infused in him a lie that his bloodline is that of a Kshatriya’s. It didn’t take him long enough (till he woke up that morning) to realise the truth about his lineage, but that didn’t erase the pride he had for embracing pain.  The joy of overkilling fear & the impish whim to welcome pain seemed cool to start with. But it hurt. It hurt when he was brought back to reality by the pain the barber had inflicted by ‘mistakenly’ cutting the skin of a child seated next to him.

‘How dare you say it’s a mistake?’ - shouted a voice. Tons of blurring sentences later, the boy took that child to his home, with a sense of pride seeping from his eyes. It wasn’t about righteousness or rationalism, for he knew he wasn’t versed enough to differentiate right over wrong. Instead, in the age of individualism he banked on his intuition. That was why he stood up against the thugs who thought seniority can get them anything. It didn’t hurt when they hit him; as it only took a little push against gravity to make them all choke. But what hurt the most was that he was waging a lonely battle for his haplessly incognizant fellowmen.

That day he could have walked past those people; but couldn’t bring himself to leave the society however unbecoming it was turning itself to be. Hence he stayed an outlaw, yet not as an outsider, ready to be summoned during the times of troubles. Neither did he do it for honour, nor for glory. He did it only because his intuitive mind told that it had to be done.  Yet his intuitions never were able to find the missing puzzle that would complete him. It wasn’t merely a mathematical puzzle that could dwell deep into the three dimensions of space. It was way beyond the four dimensions known to man that which would make him the learnt & the learner, the empowered as well as the overpowered.

People say good things happen when its least expected. True to that, on a sunny day, the eternal light cast its ray on the scrupulous boy. Before he could comprehend the meaning of it all, the plane took off using the surge of momentum. There was the thunder, the wind and the rain. But above them all was the ray of hope. It became his strength but as it so happens it was his greatest weakness as well. For things that land in your hands can either be crushed or be protected, as he flaunted & espoused his pride, he ended up crushing it before realization struck. They weren’t the torn pieces of paper which could be stuck together; they were the shattered pieces of a mirror which would only reflect the ruined image thereafter. Hence, stranded, lost and only the hapless people to turn back to, the boy for the first time got tired of being with people who make him feel like an alpha male.

Every story should have a beginning & so this story begins with the boy wanting to turn himself to a man.

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