I was dejected on the way the world around me behaved. I saw no solace. Agonies were refused to fade, and the world seemed a chaotic place where no one was safe. And this was a scary prospect. All through my life, I had accustomed myself to consider the brighter perspective of things. Suddenly, my efforts seemed in vain. I saw enormous gloom ahead-a dark tunnel with no end. My solitude had started reprimanding me. I had no clue what I was going through.
The Old Man of the Attic, Thomas, had been sheer busy with his violin classes. Sheetal, his violin teacher was a tough taskmaster. I tried not to bother him. His passion was incomparable to what I have ever seen in the kind of age he was at. He had dreams, desires, and milestones to conquer. I had none.
Apart from the personal dilemmas, I saw the world breaking into fragments. There were too many opinions, voices, views, and versions of the same story. I didn’t know which to believe and which to ignore. I saw lies scattered all over the roads and masks threatening to invade my worlds. The truth was not relevant anymore. Opinions had become facts. Travesties had become trends. When the soul is perplexed, it seeks refuge in the outside world. And when it finds chaos there as well, suddenly there is no way to go. Nowhere to lead. And when there was nowhere to lead, all roads lead to Thomas.
One foggy morning, I went to see him…
“You look baffled, Papermate. What happened?”
“What is happening to the world, Thomas? Where are we headed? Are we headed anywhere at all? Cities are being bombed. Women are being raped. Men culled at the spur of a declaration. Everything is a mess. Everything is dark, pitch black. One can’t rely on news, writers, and teachers. One can’t rely on history. There are no absolutes around. Not a single soul to reckon positivism. What kind of progress have we done as mankind? We have every source of communication and yet are hearts are separating at an alarming speed. There is hatred on the basis of ideologies. Ethics are being demeaned. Everything seems so useless, so unreal and unworthy. This bothers me Thomas. This is not the world I envisaged when I was growing up. It’s not rational. It’s not fair. I am scared. I am clueless….i….” I would have continued had Thomas didn’t interrupt me.
“Haha…Welcome home Papermate. We can talk about this. Relax. Taste this coffee. It’s from Kilimanjaro. It’s amazing.” Thomas was always keen on trying different flavors of Coffee. To me, all seemed the same.
“Damn you. I bothered about the world and you have only coffee as your concern. Shut up…I don’t care if it’s from Kilimanjaro or Gorakhpur.” I spurted in acute anger.
“You newbie pretentious writers are so pseudo-intellectual idiots. You know what? There must have been a woman who left his newborn child in her hut to pick the beans this coffee is grind from. The cup that withholds this must have been baked in furnace at temperatures enough to melt our bones. Some guy must have sat along to supervise this process. If you can’t respect the efforts of these people, how can you even think of being capable to talk about the world and life? Now would you stop being something unmentionable and have a sip of it?”
I had to obey the old hat. He was grinding his teeth as if he would mince me if I don’t have his coffee from Hono lolo….sorry, Kilimanjaro. I sipped. It was different.
“Good. There you get your lesson number one. Appreciate what you have. Even if it’s a mere cup of coffee.” Thomas said, smilingly. He had this strange capability to switch his tone in a fraction of second.
With amazing depth in his voice, he continued.
“See Papermate, the world has been a cacophony. Always. Throughout history, we come across eccentric regimes, turmoil, abuse, massacres. It is not that we have invented them. We have inherited them. Right from the era of Mahabharat to Great Roman Wars, from crucifixion of Christ to Nadir Shah’s invasion, the American civil wars, the world wars, Holocaust, our own battles with neighbors- Where was the peace? Nowhere. But humanity has survived it all -the holocausts, the partitions, falling of towers, the bombing of countries, volcanoes, earthquakes-everything. Not that I am ignoring the grief and ignominy these events have resulted into. The point emphasizing them is that there were no good times. The chaos has been always there. You are right when you realize that the world is irrational. It’s not logical. 2+2 may become 0 here and none will be bothered. And that’s the challenge we humans have- How to steer through this dark tunnel?” He stopped to pour some more of Kilimanjaro in cups.
“I see your point, Thomas. But why is it so that the disturbances have become more recurrent than they were earlier?” I asked.
“That’s an interesting aspect. See,I don’t know how these silly websites work. But today, with the advent of media, social sites, and technology, the news travels faster and is repeated a billion times. This somehow creates a perception that hostility is increasing. People are sharing the news on their portals, and all have to read it. So earlier when an accident happened, you saw in the newspaper or half-hour TV news, and you moved on. Today, the accident happens, again and again, refreshing itself in your memory every time you read it. And you feel that that’s all the world contains. I admit that there is ugliness. But there is beauty too. We have more creative people sharing their works through this medium. Beauty and disorder have always coexisted. In History, we find Mussolini in almost the same era as that of Helen Keller. Hitlers and Gandhis will always co-exist. Whom do you seek will define who do you become.”
I finished my coffee. It was thicker and frothier from the earlier ones. I didn’t agree much with what Thomas explained. To be honest, kind of state I was in, I didn’t even understand much. But it was comforting in its own ways. Certain things are so complex that the human mind fails to comprehend them. Was he right? Was he wrong? What is this world? Who are we? Why are we here? Why should we be here? I then thought about that lady who plucked coffee beans. Could she feed her child? Did the cup maker get his worth in the market?
I didn’t realize when I dozed.
~T T Papermate~
Papermate is just another face from the maddening crowd.
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