His part
The window was open, and the old man’s silver tuft was visible.
I yelled at him; he was slightly short in his hearing.
He popped out his big, bald head and two squeaky eyes, peering down from behind the bifocal monocle.
The man beckoned me to come up; I obeyed.
There, in the room, lay his old friend, motionless.
Beside him sat the old man with a bowl of chips, crunching and bellowing.
The chips were some solace to him.
He held the bowl tight and kept giggling and repeating, “This is life, this is life.”
What is life when you look at him?
All his life, he served someone.
His father, mother, siblings, nation, wife, and children, and in the end he was serving his friend.
When all of a sudden God decided to take his friend back.
“Oooo, it’s time; c’mon, give your chips to the old friend and run with me wild,” God said.
The old man went to the psychiatrist next, and after coming back, he called me home.
“He says I should believe in the Lord. But I don’t see the Lord.
I see dust, sweat, semen, hormones, crowds, noise, and departing men.
But I don’t see any God.
What is my truth then?
All this fighting, all this propaganda, the killings, the dying, the murdering, the planning.
The strategic removal of people and the natural dying process yielded nothing, he said.
Death is not the end, he said another day suddenly.
What if we come back again to harm the same men who harmed us before?
Life was at a standstill for him now.
*************************
Me
Years went by, and I am still amazed.
To know how someone could just not see.
Of how, we could become so easily replaceable.
Those tears being shredded every day, meant nothing to many.
Who went back to the dark every night to rest and forget light after being in it for hours?
Still they cannot see.
They cannot learn to hear and relate to the cries of agony and our chi.
Some books say pain is as fake as joy.
I can see that now.
Be in pain as you’re in joy.
But then human life has no value.
Humanity is just a phrase that humans have built to sustain themselves.
Like the cats have their own phrase to sustain their lives—”catity,” they call it.
If lives don’t matter, then we are just water.
Flowing with no aim or purpose.
Is human life just to ebb and flow away?
But then this is how we are made to feel.
This is what we are told to believe.
Everything in here is meant to serve a purpose.
If we didn’t have a purpose then we have nothing to weave.
But since we have a purpose as we can all see, then every life here matters, even the octopus.
Beyond what we have made them to be.
For some of us want the others to believe what they say.
But if you look at the nether side, you will know to say “nay.”
And if that is the case, then two plus two is not four.
It is only that way since someone taught it to us to be that way.
It will also mean, then, that our joys and our sorrows are as true as us.
It would mean we did not get the scriptures right.
Since it is also what someone told us is that way.
Someone tried maligning God’s words.
Someone tried to create a rift between man and God.
Someone wanted it to grow, and thankfully to the efforts of men, it’s growing.
Someone taught us wrong.
Thus, as I stand here, I see why someone said. Finding your own truth here is your greatest work.
Homo Nosce te Ipsum.
In knowing your own truths, you will know how others are blindfolded.
Too much light on your eyes can be as blinding as too much darkness.
For in both circumstances, you cannot see what’s ahead and behind you.
Thus, go find your truth, even if it’s not two plus two but (a+b)^2, I would say.
Snehashree is a content creator by profession and writer by passion. She is a storyteller, poet, and abstract artist besides being a content writer. She has published her works of poetry on Amazon and several online magazines. She moved into full time writing after spending a few years in the healthcare industry. A solivagant and an ardent animal lover, she regularly crafts interesting articles for her blog - TST.
When not writing, she can be found reciting poetries in poetry clubs, teaching kids the art of poetry, and reading avidly. You could visit her website and chat with her on Instagram.
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