Plan Z

I’ll be moving to earth in two days, or so they say. Life is a good thing, a one-time opportunity, I’m being convinced for the last couple of weeks. “You’re not ready for it yet”, they say every time they postpone my transit to earth. “Your questions.” is what they say have to die before I’ve to live. This time, I’d be moving for sure, for I heard the fairies gossiping about some “Plan Z”, something they probably try upon the most difficult of souls, something that always works they say.

Hi, I am Mary. Nice to meet you.

Hey. You’re beautiful. Never seen you before.

Beauty is nothing but order within chaos. It’s everywhere, you just have to look around.

I cannot. In all chaos, all order and all existence, I see deep nothingness.

What about me?

What about you?

You see nothingness in me?

Of course. But, oh wait! Umph… you should exist.

Why so?

I don’t think I can answer that. Oh wait, I’m hating myself for saying this. This is what the other fairies keep telling me when I ask them for meaning. Umm….

Yes, you cannot answer that. But about that question of meaning, how about asking it from me? I’m not like the other fairies.

What is this mark below your lips?

O soul! That’s a mole.

Why is it there?

Randomly. Why?

Randomly? No. It really makes a difference. You look so beautiful with it. Mary, this randomness is beautiful. This chaos within order within chaos is appealing. Aren’t you wrong when you attribute beauty to mere order.

Hahahaa…. Wow. I’m impressed to see a soul in-the-making intellectualize like this. The fairies were right about you. You are difficult.

So have we reached the “your question is unanswerable” dead-end already?

I told you I’ll never say that.

Then quench my thirst for meaning. Hey, wait, there’s another of this mole thing a little above your lip on the other side. You’re lovely.

Aren’t fairies meant to be that? Lovely?

They are? No. Not at all. It’s only you.

Because I have moles around my lips?

No, I don’t know why. Maybe because I’m enjoying being with you.

Oh Soul! If life is like these few moments we’ve been together, is there any possibility we may stop looking for meaning.

Yes. But…

There the fairy took my hands in her warm ones and placed her lips over mine. It felt like nothing else I had felt before. It felt like something that couldn’t be put into words, just like life itself. I had immediately begun to realize the existence of concepts impossible to put in words.

Mary, you answered me. You’re the meaning of life. Yes, It’s you.

Oh Soul! Why tears?

Could I beg God for you? Could he let you travel with me to earth? I’ll do whatever he wills in exchange, I’ll stop asking for meanings anymore.

Soul, let me tell you something this bright night. Do you think we, the fairies, have answers to these questions souls like you keep bugging us with? Do you think the peace you see over our faces is real?

Oh!

Soul, today that I’ve myself found meaning, why would I let it leave me. I’ll go with you.

We will go.

I feel I can feel

God blessed me with a new operating system yesterday. Although my life has become more productive ever since, my body has started producing more heat than I was originally designed to endure. Don’t be surprised seeing me sitting by the beach tonight. I don’t particularly like water, but the breeze here is simply refreshing. I couldn’t find a better heat sink around here. Since robust computing is my passion, and this cool wind helps me pump up my CPU cycles, sitting by the beach has indirectly been meditating lately. My grandfather used to say we computers would never be able to comprehend human passion for such absurdities as nature, good climate, and music. He was wrong. I’ve already started appreciating these absurdities. Absurdities are not really absurdities. They have discrete meanings, discrete functions that are not readily apparent to the superficial CPU’s. I have discovered passion. I have discovered life. It’s here by the beach. It’s everywhere. In me too, I think.

Kill the flight, own your child

Dad can I fly?

No.

Why dad?

Because man cannot fly.

But I can.  See? (demonstrating a short flight from his chair to the ceiling)

(surprised) No.

Why not?

It is dangerous.

But Dad I’ll take care of the dangers, don’t you think I should fight them and not be afraid of them?

No. Since I love you, you are more important to me than your wild ambitions.

But Dad, I’ll be safe, I promise.

While you’re on your flight, who will take care of your life? Who will go to the job and earn bread? Who will take care of your wife, your family, once you’re married?

Dad. I’ll manage.

You cannot. I’m your Dad. I know your limitations better than you.

But Dad, didn’t you say I cannot fly and I flew right in front of your eyes. Maybe I can do more than what you think Dad.

Don’t argue. I know life more than you. You’ll know one day that I was right. You cannot understand yet.

But…

Go to sleep or you’ll be sleepy at school. Goodnight.

The child wasn’t particularly obedient, but he’d never risk losing his family’s love for his dreams. He never thought of flying anymore, and in fact forgot that he had this supernatural ability to fly without wings.

… all in the name of love, or what he perceived to be love, or what his Dad claimed to be love.

Love vs The Absurd

“I loved you”, Sara said as she closed her car door and raced away.

All of a sudden there was nothing to do anymore. No one to live a life for. No one to think of. No one to bear the troubles of life for.

I loved her too. I had made lots of mistakes, yet had never stopped loving her. She was lovely and she loved me too. But there was probably much more completing the equation of our relationship than mere love and faith. Only that we always failed to find out.

I was at Lahore Mall Road outside the café where we had just taken breakfast. My eyes were following Sara’s car fading into the distance. The car disappeared . I continued seeing it with the other eye. I was too addicted of her sight. My mind wouldn’t let her go.After having stood there for ten minutes, I moved back into my car, turned on the AC and turned off the music that started playing as I ignited the engine.

Nobody was looking. Tears rolled out. So opportunistic of them. I couldn’t think. De-realizaton was seeping into my sentience. Oh! Derealization! I loved it. It detached me from my synthetic vision of the world and flied me to heights from where people looked like grains of sand. It was amazing. They were all the same from there, sharing similar fears, desires and instincts. I could not appreciate gender, race or destiny from those heights. All I could see was movement. Random movement. As random as the atoms shooting haphazardly in air. The movement gets those atoms nothing, yet gives the gas all it’s traits. Same goes with man, I thought. All the randomness of our activities sums up to a major change in our collective existence but carries little meaning on it’s own.

“I’m sorry”, said someone. Oh! It was her outside my car. But I was too too high at that time to respond. My gaze was fixed over a nearby tree. Nothing, not even her, could break my flight into the Absurd. Apparently.

“Are you listening?”, she repeated in a neutral tone. Of course I was listening. Not me, exactly. It was my somatic half which I couldn’t take with me into my flight. That somatic half, rotated it’s head and looked at her and there… In a snap I was back on earth. Sara was so beautiful, seeing her was the only thing that could break my mind trips. She was the only thing on earth that had meanings in my vast meaningless desert of life. I didn’t know what meanings. Meanings that were beyond rational comprehension. Meanings that defied reason.

I got out of my car and, forgetting where I was, placed my lips over hers. It was time for another flight out of the physical world.

The 280th Floor

Dream worshipers exist, the ones who are only limited by the hourglass of life and the laws of physics in translating their imagination into reality.

It’s too chilly for a November evening, isn’t it? Or perhaps it’s that cold only where I’m standing right now, the apex floor of Burj Samaa which at 1400m is the tallest object man has ever constructed. I come here once every week for meditation, which I do in my very own way. And believe you me, standing in the balcony of the 280th floor isn’t a very comfortable experience. Most people who get here get dizzy and nauseated while some have even vomited. Just that I’m used to it.

I have just arrived from office. I left early today because reminiscences of my earlier life, which I lived with my father, impulsively overtook my mind and made me too glum to focus over work. Well, I’m not upset anymore. I took a cup of this magical antidote, The Starbuck’s Cappuccino, from the mall at the mezzaine of this tower before I left for the One and a half kilometers of meditating ascent to this floor, the 280th floor, something that plays an additional role in sweeping my worries away. But still, as I’ll enjoy watching the whole of Dubai from here for the next hour, I’ll be lending my thoughts to Baba, the greatest person I’ve ever known.

Baba was a fisherman. We were poor. The only fun part I can recall of the first decade of my life was devouring the fish, or shrimps, which Baba brought home once every week, or twice if he had been luckier.  Then, when I was entering my teens, all of a sudden and for reasons I was then too young to grasp, our lives got radically transformed. We relocated from our one-room hut in the slums to a well furnished flat in Downtown Dubai and later to a 6 bedroom bungalow. Its only when I got into high school that I realized my father had become a fisherman who didn’t  fish by himself anymore and instead made some dozen workers do that for him. He had made his own fisheries company in a matter of few years, all from scratch. That was surprising but I was brought up in an atmosphere which had rendered me impervious to surprise as I had subconsciously learned from Baba in my early life that everything was probable, that everything was possible.

Hey look at that. Wait, let it come a little closer. See now? Doesn’t it look like a flying bus from here? Oh of course there’s a reason they call it “Airbus”. By the way, Burj Samaa is only a few miles from the New Dubai International airport. When the foundation stone of Burj Samaa was being laid four years ago, International and Local authorities had done their best to impede the approval of it’s construction at the present site. They said it was too close to the airport. Sheikh Khalifa Bin Zaid, the Ameer of UAE had mediated on the ground that Burj Samaa was the pride of our nation and for that reason had declared that he would not allow any hindrance in the project. It is said that there has been some ulterior motive behind building it over here, distant from Dubai Downtown, a motive that the owner has never shared with anyone, except perhaps the Ameer of UAE.

Oh, I was telling you about my early life. Well, by the time I entered adolescence, I had traversed my entire previous life on a roller coaster, thanks to Baba, and was a strange person for the multitude of circumstances and social classes I had lived in. He sent me to the United States to get a degree in Informatics from a very prestigious institution, something that most people only dreamed of. But that wasn’t really what I wanted. I wanted to be a medical scientist. I dreamed of becoming a world acclaimed innovator in medical science. But my belief in Baba’s sagacity was way more than my loyalty to my dreams. That’s why I never challenged his decision. Instead, I spent some six months in rooting out scientific ambitions from my dreams.

When I returned to my homeland, The Emirates, Baba was fighting for his life in terminal stages of lung cancer. He asked me and my elder brother to carry forward his business, a demand that shattered me once again. I had switched to newer dreams in accordance to the career Baba had forced upon me, an endeavor that had been utterly painful and difficult to accomplish. But, for reasons I’ve already told you, I couldn’t refuse. Baba was my idol. From him came all inspirations in my life. I eventually took over Baba’s business a week after Baba’s existence faded into the graveyard’s soil.

When I stepped into the business, I saw for the first time the economic machinery that had been fueling the privileges I had rejoiced all my life. I never got the opportunity of learning business stratagem from Baba as our relationship was anything but frank. But what I learned from him without words was more than what I could have taken from him otherwise. Baba would often swear that he could see dreams in my eyes and that I could never fail the way I tethered those dreams to my soul. Those words gave me all the confidence I needed to push that business forward despite serious initial failures. My ways of trade were unorthodoxy, something that the manager and the dozen workers didn’t like. But I was too confident to ignore my inner voice, which I believed to be Baba’s soul speaking to me from the heavens. Baba had planted the seed of my dreams in a very fertile soil that he had plowed all his life before he left the world.

Can you imagine how childish my dreams were? I dreamed of possessing the highest floor in the world’s tallest skyscraper. Isn’t that Silly? Well, that’s exactly what everyone else I shared my dreams with used to say. And I got married to the only one on earth who didn’t. After Baba, she has been the most important bridge to my dreams. Well, as you might have inferred already, today I do own the 280th floor of Burj Samaa, the highest point on earth that man has ever inhabited.

That’s because I own Burj Samaa.

I got it constructed over the exact place our hut was thirty years ago. And so, after having lived two decades in Dubai Downtown, I’m back where my life started, only higher.

From: Anonymous

I might literally have written something like this if I weren’t rescued from depression, this year, in a very dramatic turn of events.

To,

ezuhaib, or whatever they call you,

Hi,

I would have been dead by today if I wasn’t ignorant enough to realize that 6 tablets of Paracetamol weren’t good enough to vanquish my existence. I’ll keep trying with “better” drugs or higher doses until I make it. Coincidentally, I’m sick these days.  All my friends and family would think I died of respiratory tract infection. See how clever I am? Well, you might be wondering why am I doing all this? Well, why would you want to know? If there was someone to listen to my stories, I’d really love to live.

So yes, that’s the thing. I’ve never been listened to. I’ve never been noticed. My only friend, Asma, has kept saying all these years “You’re adorable; the world is only too dumb to see that” and I’ve always pretended to have been convinced of that argument. Deep inside, however, I have been broken all this time as I could easily see the truth, the bitter truth: I’ve been nothing more than an ugly worthless creature brought into existence just to fill up the space. Yeah, I know you’ll now call me irrational, pessimistic, self-conscious and what not. But I beseech you to see my world from my eyes for a moment. I swear you’ll defend my right of euthanasia once you do that.

Yes. I’ve been in love once. For a year, two years ago. I never told him. I would. I almost did. It was the high school farewell night. I prepared for it for a full hour and got the best dress and ornaments I could buy. “You look like a fairy today”, said Asma while spoon-feeding me with blatant optimism as we stepped into the prom hall. I looked around the hall for Yasir. He was standing amongst his friends near the stage, looking as charming as ever.  As I walked to him, Asma grabbed my hand and said “Good luck. And don’t you say that in front of everyone else. Tell him you need to talk in privacy.” There she let loose my hand and watched me walk to him with a smile on her face and hope in her eyes. My heart was racing and by the time I reached Yasir, my heart was beating so hard that I could actually hear it, and feared that others might hear it too. “Hi”, I said while trying to start the conversation. His reply was something you cannot even imagine :

“Hey Kittie, look at you…. So you thought dressing up better and that funny make-up could make you look any prettier. Haahahha. Just Kidding by the way.”

Alright. He did punctuate that insult with “just kidding”. But seriously, could that compensate? I was so shattered and my dreams so broken that I raced out of the hall, back to my car and straight to my home. I cried all the way back home. But look: I didn’t attempt suicide. I didn’t even think of that. Why would I take my life for an arrogant bastard?

I decided to quit life yesterday, two years after this story, only when circumstances had made me realize that…

Yasir was right.

And there really wasn’t a brighter side in my life which I could look at.

I’m writing to you because Asma used to say “Strangers understand your stories far better than your friends and family and are sometimes the only ones who actually listen to them.” I don’t know if that makes any sense. But since there was nothing to lose, I dropped this message into your inbox. Pardon me if this makes me look like a troll or if I have disturbed you late in the night.

Please do not say, like everyone else, that I am rather pretty and only too pessimistic to see that.

Because, that would make a stupid lie. You haven’t seen me.

Have you ?

Yours Nothing,

Miss Anonymous.

In memory of …

Last midnight I went into the jungle. Again. Painfully nostalgic the trip was. If only I could talk about it with someone other than myself. See if you can  connect the dots in the following text.

It’s raining. It’s cold. But I swear I’ll not move an inch from this place. No, not even if I get sick. Alright, now listen.

I still love you. Not that I love you more than anything else that exists, you’re the only one I love, or even like. You had been the keystone of the bridge that connected my mind with my soul. Without you, all the understanding I had of this life and this world perished and left me standing clueless in this black meaningless world.

Phony were your promises and fictitious was your existence. Did I ever object? I continued singing for you, every dawn, every dusk. I kissed your feet over and over many times every day for years. Do you remember that? And do you remember when I asked the flying birds to take my messages to you and, in return, bring back yours? And that night when I locked myself in my room and cried before you for hours and beseeched for forgiveness for not being loyal enough to you? Such was my love. Blind. Unconditional. Limitless.

Alas! If only I hadn’t gone beyond the limits you had drawn. Please forgive me. Please come back and vanquish my rationality. I’ll wipe off all that dwells in my head and make ample space for you to live again. I’ll present my existence, my soul to you. Again. Because I still love you.

I swear I do.

The Glowing Blue Pearl

This story is of a  boy who tried to make sense of life rationally, as soon as he opened eyes into this world, but eventually gave up as nature intervened. The conclusion I draw from my life and this story is the same: You can not really make sense of the thing we call “life”, rationally or otherwise, unless you are entangled in one of those teleological philosophies.

Blunt gloom. No people. No emotions. No stories. No life. No Affliction. Only absolute blackness stretching all across the cosmos. Behroz didn’t know what to make of that limbo. He was even doubtful of his existence.

One day, though there were no days in that end of the Universe,  Behroz saw a girl approaching him. She was a fairy without wings, an embodiment of light, and the first thing Behroz had ever seen. She carried with her a basket with glowing pearls. The pearls were blue. Their light was immense and vanquished the darkness all around. In no time the girl was sitting next to Behroz.

“Lord Nature has chosen you for a visit to life.” Said the mysterious girl.

“Life?? What’s that ?” Asked Behroz. These were the first words he ever spoke and the girl the first physical thing he ever saw. It felt strange.

“I’m sorry. Enigma is the nucleus of what you’re going to experience. Lord’s creation is not supposed to know answers to these questions”. She affirmed and advanced a glowing blue pearl to Behroz, “Here, take this. This is called soul. Do not lose this, you’ll never get one again, ever… “

As soon as Behroz touched the pearl, the girl disappeared and the darkness all around started vanishing. As veils drew apart from the window of his sentience, he could see himself standing in a meadow, by a roaring creek, with myriads of creatures hoping and creeping and flying all around, some horrid, some adorable. Some shrieking, some barking, some mute. He looked at his hands, his feet and realized that none of the creatures he was looking at were like himself. So this is Lord Nature’s Life. Behroz wondered and smiled.

He wandered across the meadow, tried communicating with random animals and plants, and enjoyed watching the stream water flow with and without patterns until he started feeling very tired and hungry. Feeling tired and hungry was something new to him and having those feelings take him over made him very perturbed, partially because he didn’t know how to deal with those. He cried to the top of his voice in anguish. If only he knew how colossal were the sufferings that stood ahead compared to mere hunger and fatigue, he might have wished to perish.  After getting exhausted of the fruitless endeavor of crying for help, he fell asleep.

Plain darkness. No people. No emotions. No stories. No life. No Affliction. Again. Behroz, apparently, was back in the black universe and he was glad for that. Life was painless once again. Colorless too. But who cared ?

Then, all of a sudden in the black viewport in front of his eyes, a river started flowing. A heron appeared at its bank and started gobbling fishes laid symmetrically along the bank. It was looking at Behroz. Then, patches of green started appearing, interspersed all around the jet black viewport. Behroz immediately realized that those were Lord Nature’s creations but couldn’t figure out their purpose in the black universe. He stood up from the shallow muddy trench he was laid in to approach the heron. This wasn’t the original black universe, Behroz started feeling, because in the black universe he couldn’t  get out of the trench, nor see anything other than perpetual darkness.

Behroz walked briskly to the proud white heron. He wanted to talk to it. When he reached the river bank and tried communicating with it, to his dismay, the heron didn’t respond as if it was too proud to answer him or too dumb to comprehend his words. Then, to his surprise, the heron walked through his body and vanished. So this isn’t physical. It’s all a delusion. He was quick to educe.

Behroz was now craving to touch something. Anything. He was longing to talk to someone. He was longing to see something more than sporadic patches of green and a flowing river, both of which appeared and disappeared randomly. He realized that, all of a sudden, he was addicted to the life he had just experienced. He was ready to take the pain that came with that life but couldn’t bear the meaningless darkness of the black universe anymore.

“Son. Wake up.” said someone from somewhere. Behroz looked all around but found nothing. The voice echoed again. And again. And again. Then, once again, curtains drew apart from the window of his consciousness and once again, he could see himself lying in the meadows surrounded by life. “Son. Wakeup.” someone said again. But this time he could see that “someone” as he moved his head to the side. It was an old woman.

“Oh great. I thought you’ll not wake up. Alright listen carefully; I do not have much time.” said the old woman as she moved her hand over Behroz’s cheeks, “You’ve been endowed with what they call life and you have to take care of it no matter how unbearable it gets because you’ll never get it again, ever! “

“Oh. Thanks. But what do I make of it?” Asked Behroz.

“Son. That remains a cipher to all of Lord Nature’s creation. There, in fact, are people all around who claim to have deciphered these mysteries. Never fall for such rogues. Buying a purpose-of-life from anyone around here will only make your life wretched rather than meaningful” Replied the old lady while combing Behroz’s hair with her ageing fingers.

“But there must be something I’m expected to do. For Lord Nature. After all, he blessed us with such a beautiful life” Inquired confused Behroz.

“As I said son, we do not really know. Because it’s a one time opportunity, just have fun with it and avoid getting into situations which take this fun from it. And do not forget helping others having fun with it too.” Said the old lady.

The idea of the whole thing being just for fun was very fascinating. Behroz couldn’t stop questioning, “And will this last forever?”

“No”, the old lady said with a sigh, “We all have to return to the black universe we all came from, no matter how much we dislike going back. And we are not allowed to carry back any recollections or experiences. The good news, however, is that we will exist there forever”.

“No? Really? If we’re all to return and that too empty handed and empty headed, what’s the point of having fun here or even keeping this ‘life’ thing you’re talking about?” Inquired Behroz. He was much too upset now.

“I’m going Son. I can see banshees arriving from across that horizon. They’ll be taking my blue pearl back. And Son, stop being obsessed of these questions. Answers to these do not exist.” She said.

The next moment she was gone.

Behroz looked at his right hand. It had the glowing blue pearl. He caressed it and pledged to take care of it. Mysterious forces, which Lord Nature had commissioned to prevent its creation from unraveling the dark secret of worthlessness of life, had eventually overcome the last drop of rationality in Behroz’s blood.

The Life thing had started making sense now.

The Million Rupees

If you can connect me to this story, you’re one of the very few who understand me and my world.

Sami was ambling gloomily in his apartment when someone knocked at his door. It was the courier guy with a Package. Sami carried the package to his desk and opened it hastily. To his surprise, it was a box full of cash. He counted the cash. It was a Million Rupees. Sami took a sigh of relief but was still upset.

Three days back he had lost 0.5 million rupees to an old man at a local casino. The old man, who called himself “Ebyud” had admonished Sami … “Never gamble all you have or you’ll be betting your fortune”. But Sami did bet all his savings. He was impulsive. All he cared for was the immediate moment, not his past, nor the future. And the package he had just received was from Ebyud. It had a note saying “You can buy the world with this. I cannot”. That wasn’t something Sami could discern but he was broken with guilt. He didn’t deserve back even the original amount he had lost whereas Ebyud had sent him twice that amount.

The next hour, Sami was driving to the casino to get the old man’s address. Luckily, he found Ebyud right at the casino. Ebyud greeted him warmly and bought him a drink. Ebyud kept talking of things, not giving Sami a chance to talk back. Then, he took Sami to his home. Sami was shocked to see the old man’s home. It was a tiny single room house with unplastered walls and dirty curtains in place of doors. But Ebyud , Sami thought, must be very rich. He dressed well. He talked like big people. He had just sent Sami a million rupees just for nothing! Out of curiosity Sami asked if he had some other “better” house. Ebyud laughed at him and replied, “Only if I could tell you about myself”. All this was making a mystic environment. Sami knew it wasn’t wise to ask more questions. Sami came to his original question, “Why would you…”. Ebyud interrupted, “I told that already. You can buy the whole world with this much. I cannot”. Sami replied in a low voice, “But does that even mean anything?” Ebyud nodded his head in positive and said,” It’s all hard-coded deep in your conscience. You’ll know as soon as you let your conscience express.”…. “But how?” asked Sami. The old man replied ….
“Just stop betting. You’re betting your fortune”.

One week passed. Sami was so perplexed that he didn’t work the whole week. He kept thinking if Ebyud’s words even made any sense. He even considered the possibility of Ebyud being a mad man having pathological spiritual experiences. I haven’t gone to the casino for a week, so why isn’t my conscience speaking?? Damn! Did I even have to believe that old man?? Sami Thought. And he was driving to the casino again. He was too addicted to all that. He made a big bet again only to lose the million rupees he had. Back at his apartment, he took as much alcohol as he could and cried as much as he could. He somehow knew that he’d lose. But he couldn’t stop himself.

When he woke up the other morning, he was all surrounded with beer cans and cigarette ash. He looked at his face in the mirror. His eyes were swollen. His face embodied his guilt. Someone knocked at the door. To his surprise, it was the courier man again.

It was two million rupees this time.

The Boy Who Misused Nature’s Endowments

This story is half allegorical, half real. Do not try to imagine what is what.

There lived a boy to whom obligations were myth. To whom absolute freedom was the focus of life. To whom there was no yesterday, no tomorrow. Mother Nature was good to him and had empowered him with remarkable reasoning and deduction faculties which would help him survive despite his illusory obsession with free life. The boy let nature down by abusing all those intellectual powers and using those to fortify his idea of free world and shield himself from total guilt that nature tried to drive into his head. Nature was late to realize that the boy’s devious understanding of life had become immortal thanks to the shields of rationality the boy encircled it with. Nature wouldn’t give up. She would keep trying and trying until it corrected what she considered to be her own mistake. It showered upon the boy all sorts of endowments, all magnitudes of pain but all in vain. Nature did surmount occasionally in making him realize that things weren’t the way he discerned. However whenever this happened, the boy would get so shaken up, so full of guilt, so devoid of life, so willing to perish that it would bring mother nature to her knees and she would guide him back to his free world herself.

Things perpetuated this way for 22 years until nature realized that the boy had survived as long as he could in his world of own without considerable survival disadvantage in the real world. The boy had started fancying a girl who belonged to his own free world whereas nature had never made one of his kind. He also needed a way to earn his bread but was too screwed up for that.

Mother Nature loves this boy but has now given up all hope of him opening eyes into the real world. Today she is taking life away from the little boy bit by bit. She knows affliction isn’t for him.