Life in a Prison


Listen to them..

Life in a Prison

Narrator: This story is a replication of a few torn away pages from a 1979 diary of an unknown author. I found these pages accidentally from a rat hole in the basement of my newly bought house. Inmates, of both the rat hole and the house, have vacated the place since a while. ———————————————————————————————————

24 August 1979

…is the only one whom you should trust the most in this world and when you don’t listen to what has been conveyed to you, you will succumb to lifelong imprisonment. The two guards, who guard your cell, will keep on muttering obscurely until you realize that something was actually fremd.

Well, that was for the second time I was being sentenced to imprisonment and you really have to be in a prison to understand how it would actually be living inside a cell.

25 August 1979 – 07 November 1979

-Pages missing-

08 November 1979

After a while, I ended up in prison again. You have to listen very carefully when I tell you about my life in this particular prison. As you see, I am just another ordinary person, like all other people, who wants to be heard at least in a relatively reasonable audience. And, I believe that it is unethical to take one person’s blight and force everyone else to experience it. When you repeatedly lose emotions while attempting to meet your likes, you may leave behind the ability to control your mind when something is lost or when you can’t get access to what you were looking for. You’ll fall into the valley of desperateness and helplessness. It is then your mind initiates a crime. I ended up in prison for the same reason.

09 November 1979

Loneliness and indolence spread inside you as sickness. The reason why you never get out of their grasp is that you never listen to them. Even the silence inside you talks to you. Your inborn confidence is the advocate that helps you to attain freedom. But you never know that your freedom doesn’t apparently exist because the lock to your freedom is always open!

10 November 1979

Chapter 1: Hope

The only thing that wakes your life up in prison is ‘hope’- the hope to be free, the hope to see more sunlight than you see through the small window-grid, the hope to smell the soil in your garden, the hope to see your rotten garage, the hope to use your own restroom, the hope to taste the stinky tap water at your home, the hopes never ends.. And hope for existence utmost.

11 November 1979

I don’t know why they didn’t give me a time measuring instrument in prison. Probably they believed that prisoners do not need it or may be because I never asked. Sometimes you only get what you asked for. But I could measure time pretty accurately. When you are stuck inside a small room for a while you can pretty much notice a small change in your environment. When you can vaguely see something – it should be 8 in the morning. When you can see light hitting those guards’ back – it should be around 9. When the sunlight touches your feet as you lie pointing your head to the window – it should be 10. The rest is unclear as it could be any time when your stomach feels hot. It could be due to hunger, perhaps.

12 November 1979

Actually, you eat a lot when you are at prison. Well, it could be my personal thing. You can actually know what day it would be looking into your food -not because of that you get different kinds of food each day, but because the same food smells different each day. I learned that some foods don’t stay longer than a week unrefrigerated or may be even refrigerated.

13 November 1979

My window looked like a vertical chess board with holes instead of the squares. The good thing when you get near the window is that you can complete the time-measurement process which we left before. When the shadow of the building reaches the mid-point of the barren ground in front of the prison – it should be about 3 in the evening. When it reaches the front gate – it would be around 4 or 5. The rest is unclear as always. And when you see no sunlight, you can guess it would be night and your dinner is anytime soon. The bad thing about the window is not that important, but you will have to be really careful that your time measurement process is not affected by the stinky smell of the cement.

14 November 1979

–blank—

15 November 1979

–blank—

16 November 1979

Chapter 2: Resistance and Persistence

When you are paid through dollars for your work that you do at prison, you are paid through intellect for what you read. Your chair and table may now more scriptures than what you’ve learned in your entire life.

I have read a lot, sitting in my old rusty chair and flat table. They know me much more than many people in this world. My pen, my book -they stay with me until they are manipulated with some alien thoughts.

17-20 November 1979

–Pages missing–

21 November 1979

Thoughts became my enemies sometimes. They give you sleepless nights, what people call insomnia and loss of appetite during the day time. The thoughts get really bizarre when you think more and more. Sometimes it get worsen and that’s when you try to escape or even attempts to kill yourself. But, still ‘hope’ gets greater precedence here. It is, sometimes, required for your existence that you resist your thoughts, or maybe one should learn a way to filter the thoughts, perhaps in high school itself.

If you resist, you persist.

22 November 1979

Down with fever! I don’t believe there would be any poor soul who ends up reading my diary. ‘You’ is addressed to the future-me, just in case if you forget! Because, people do change!

23 November 1979

Headache and fever are getting worse. You can’t write when you are sick or when your hands tremble too much or when you feel afraid way too much.

24 November 1979

–blank—

25 November 1979

–No scripts on the page —just some random blue scratches which went round and round–

26 November 1979

Chapter 3: The two guards

One peculiar feature of this prison was that they had two guards at each cell. I never knew why that was so. The inmates are not exceptionally violent though. Except some occasional screaming the only sounds I used to hear were the murmuring sound of the guards which I never listened to and the rhythmic snore of a fellow inmate.

I always felt very sad for these guards. They have to stand there for the whole day. But they always kept on murmuring which might make them better. Well.. I don’t know much about these prison guards.

27 November 1979

There had been an attack on some guard one day. As for my information somebody was shot and two were hospitalized. The exact information was unclear. Situations depend on how people think. When they find some miniscule hints to escape, they don’t think much. You always think that the tree near you is bigger than the one lying far away.

28-29 November 1979

(part missing- probably the ink has spread on some liquid. Those rats might be using these papers for some other purposes also)–

30 November 1979

The two guards always stood like two pillars on either side of my cell, murmuring and laughing intermittently. They both use to wear shiny dark blue uniform with a shiny round cap. One funny thing about these guards is that they don’t carry their keys with them. How foolish! In my understanding, they were supposed to carry a bunch of keys hooked to the right pocket of their pants, besides their pistol. I still remember, one day we had a weird conversation.

Guard 1: Do you know why you think a lot when you are alone?                                           Me: No. Why?                                                                                                                          Guard 2: Because you are lazy!                                                                                                    Me: Really?

I seriously had absolutely no clue about what that was all about. What else should I expect from some guards who even forget their keys?

1 December 1979

Chapter 4: The squirrel

You hardly have some memorable incidents happening when you are in prison. You always wish to think about the past and about the things around. You pretend to get involved in something so that you could get distracted from something else. The best thing to do is to never underestimate your instincts.

Thus, I have a friend – a squirrel. He used to be a regular visitor to the pool of dumpsters near my window. Today something really funny happened. Today he came with a lot of enthusiasm. May be he is just pretending. I don’t know. He jumped over the woody fence that covered the pool, as usual. His eyes got stuck on a new toy. It was some kind of a steel box, covered with newspaper scrolls at random. After filling his stomach with his favorite dishes around there, he jumped into the box. Well, I was relieved about the fact that it didn’t seem like a trap. Sometime later, I realized that he was still stuck in there. “There is a way out, you dum! Look out.” I wanted to yell. I don’t know how long the poor squirrel stayed there inside an unlocked box.

Just like the squirrel, people don’t really see their way out. They try to develop their own dream world and fall into a vicious circle. You have to listen very carefully to yourself before you try to search what you are looking for. ‘Silence’ inside you finds many ways to talk to you -through squirrels, birds, leaves, mild breeze and so on.

2 December 1979

–Pages had holes in it–

3 December 1979

–No scripts on the page —just some random blue scratches which went round and round–

4 December 1979

This day is supposed to be my birth day. But, I never used to celebrate this day since a while. You normally try to convince yourself that these days don’t exist because you feel afraid of those old memories that might haunt you in dreams.

5 December 1979

–blank—

6 December 1979

Chapter 5: The lawyer

Like everyone, I also have a lawyer. His name is Mr. Con (– two to three lines missing — ink spread–).. used to be a good lawyer sometimes. He visits me quite often but pisses me off each time when he gets here. But he gave me hope which I failed to receive from most things in here. The desire to get out and to be free makes you live life each day. Again he arrived today with his usually conversation. Here we go!

The Lawyer: How’s it going pal?                                                                                                  Me: Oh! Cut the crap. Tell me, how long I would be staying here.                                        The Lawyer: It totally depends on you.                                                                                      Me: What? You have been telling me this since a long time. What am I supposed to do? If you are not getting this, I’m gonna hire another lawyer.                                                          The Lawyer: See! Only one person can help you in this world – it’s you.                            Me: What the hell does that mean?                                                                                            The Lawyer: Do you even remember how you ended up here? You obviously don’t! You just have to listen.                                                                                                                          Me: Listen to what?                                                                                                                      The Lawyer: Listen to what they tell you.                                                                                        Me: Well, that’s it. I’m outta here! Better try not to act like a priest.

7 December 1979

Chapter 6: The Realization

My lawyer always pisses me off. I don’t know why? He used to say the same thing again and again and again when he visits me. I think I need to find someone else to trust. I wasn’t able to sleep today. The guards continued to murmur even in the dark. I was curious what did they have to talk that much. I got off from the bed. I pushed my whole weight on my knees. I reached the bars within no time and pressed my right ear to one of the bars that felt cold.

Guard 1: I can’t believe how foolish a person could be!                                                        Guard 2: (coughs and asks) Why?                                                                                          Guard 1: He doesn’t even know his cell was never locked.                                                    Guard 2: More than that- he repeatedly failed to realize that we don’t even exist and we have been conveying this to him since he got here. (Both of them laugh)

Suddenly I realized why I never saw the usual bunch of keys that guards used to carry. I gained my feet and stood up like a squirrel. I tried to open the cell door. They were right, it wasn’t locked. I saw their pale faces under the dim fluorescent light above the door. For the first time, they smiled at me. Something shiny caught my eyes. It was their steel name-tags pinned to their shirt pockets beside their chests.  It was written on white rectangular boxes – Loneliness and Indolence. I looked over the rest of the cells on my floor. Not a single one was locked and two guards stood right in front of each one of them, obscurely muttering something to which the inmates never listen to.  The strangest thing was that all their lawyers had the same name – Mr. Confidence.

Life itself is a paradox and I failed, yet again, to realize that something I was searching for actually stood right in front of me!

Your own mind…

8 December 1979

…is the only one whom you should trust the most in this world and when you don’t listen to what has been conveyed to you, you will succumb to lifelong imprisonment. The two guards, who guard your cell, will keep on muttering obscurely until you realize that something was actually fremd.

Well, that was for the third time I was being sentenced to imprisonment and you really have to be in a prison to understand how it would actually be living inside a cell.                             —————————————————————————————————————————————

Narrator: ‘Prison in a Life’ would be a much better title, perhaps, I’ve realized that only a while later!

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World Cup 2010: My Prediction


My Prediction

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The Unresolved


(unedited version)  A note to the reader: Hopefully, if you are able to figure out the key to open this mystery box while you read till the end, you are obliged to leave a comment! 😀    -from the author.

The Unresolved: Obliteration of the Percept

As I was walking up the stair,
I met a man who wasn’t there.
He wasn’t there again today.
I wish, I wish he’d go away.
– Hugh Mearns.  **

[All characters appearing in this work are totally fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.]

Prologue

Amanda Bruce was born and raised in a middle class family settled in Woodward County of north eastern Oklahoma. She was brought up by her mother Sarah Bruce. Amanda and her Momma lived in their owned house at the 13th Street of the County. The house had a garden in the front and a small shack at the lower end of the backyard. When the family didn’t spend their special occasions with their friends or where ever outside, the old shack had taken the privilege to be the host. It soon became a dump house after the death of her dad, happened when Amanda was just 5 years old. Amanda’s Momma was a rational person who thought about the radical changes that had to be made to recover from the past and started working in a grocery store. Later on she had owned three stores of her own as a result of her hard work.

Amanda went to the Riverside elementary school in her Momma’s good old Dodge. The school was located in the same county, just two turns away from her house. Two turns further away was a marsh land, later converted into interstate 86. Amanda hardly made new friends at school, but books and stories made her a lot happier. She was quite lonely until she met with her best friend, Betty. Amanda’s Momma used to make special pancakes when Betty came home with her. It was one of those happy moments of their life.

Further details about Amanda’s early life remain unknown since it was one among the oldest families in Woodward. Many years have passed. Now Amanda has got a lot of stories to say.

Chapter 1

Amanda woke up listening to the sound of water drops trickling beneath her right ear. She slowly opened her eyes. “Urgh! That was a hard sleep”, she cleared her throat while rubbing her eyes and looked at the blurred fan above. She slowly got up pressing her bed really hard. She felt a narrow pain rising up through her hand. She couldn’t recall what had happened last night. She sat on her bed and her eyes wandered around the room. She realized that the ceiling was leaking and shouted “Momma, the roof is leaking. You gotta come and fix this”. An unclear voice replied “Sure, Sweet Heart. Get ready for college”. Amanda jumped from her bed not knowing what to do at first. “Well, no bath! Just brush my teeth and yeah that’s it!” she thought. She put on her makeup, slid into her favorite jeans and t-shirt, and ran to the kitchen. “Ami, you are not supposed to get drunk on Sunday nights and I’ve warned you about this”. “All righty Momma, no time to argue, gotta get going. Love you!” she laughed and ran, snatching the lunch box from her Momma. Her good old Dodge was waiting for her in the shed. The engine roared and she began moving. She took a right turn onto the Monroe Street and headed towards the interstate 86. She didn’t get much longer when her Momma appeared in the rear view mirror, calling her to pick something up. She stopped the car on the aisle and got out of it. She smiled at her mom who was standing a few yards back. Her eyes began enlarging as she raced towards her Momma, spotting a fierce eight wheeler approaching her Momma. She jumped from a distance, catching her Momma and fell stumbling over the grass. The eight-wheeler had crashed beneath. They both fell onto a sheet of wet mud and landed safe. She was so glad that she was able to save her Momma. But, she was feeling really painful when something entered through her left hand, while she fell, thus going unconscious.

Chapter 2

Amanda woke up in a bed at the city hospital listening to the dripping drinking water from a nearby wall-mounted fountain. She kept listening to that as her Momma came by and sat beside her. “Are you feeling okay Ami?” her Momma sounded really worried. “I am all right. You?” she asked in reply. “I am perfectly fine. Come on lets go home! Dr. Wills said we could leave”.  Meanwhile a tall blonde nurse came by and did some concluding works and she said, “Hey, Amanda. I am Lilly. It is nice to meet you. You are perfectly all right now. You can leave”. “Thank you, Lilly”, she felt regaled with the assistance.

They got in to her old Dodge and headed towards her Momma‘s workplace. “Momma! I have seen that nurse before”.

“I thought you would recognize her. She is Mrs. Wallace‘s daughter.”, her Momma replied.

“Ohh! Really? Where are those guys? I haven’t seen them over the last couple of years”.

“They moved to Illinois and I have no clue why this girl is still here”.

“They were always weird”.

“Haha! But, you are coming with me to my store, no college today. Okay?”

“Okay! And yeah, I am gonna finish all your doughnut supply. Haha.”

Her Momma smiled and stopped the car on the rear side of her store. Before they could get out, a huge explosion took place on the front side of the store. Before they could come to their senses most of the front side of the store were destroyed. She ran, cannot believing what she just saw, to the front side. It has already demolished heavily. The air was filled with smoke and she began choking. She looked at her Momma and she was totally astonished to see her Momma smiling at her.

“Ami! If we weren’t this late or if you didn’t go to the hospital, I might be dead by now” Momma made her feel relieved. “Yeah! She is right!” Amanda thought. She felt relieved, but she wasn’t pretty much recovered from the pain in her hand. It began ascending and she felt drowsy.

Chapter 3

Amanda woke up next morning listening to the same old water dripping sound from the leaky roof. She got used to it because it never got fixed. She left early to college that morning driving her Dodge as fast as she could. It was her best friend, Betty’s birthday. They were planning to bunk classes and had already packed up for a trip. She parked her car besides the road, jumped into the empty road and ran. She saw Betty smiling at her. She hugged her and wished ‘Happy Birthday, dear’. They were already in group and went to the nearest hotspot for partying. They visited their favorite spots and partied again. That day was more of partying.

While returning, Kate, a short red-head girl who liked to hang around a lot, made a suggestion to go to the shack beside Amanda’s house.

“The shack on my backyard? No way. I don’t like that place.”

“Well. I don’t care. I am driving over there.”

“No. I said don’t”, Amanda’s voice sounded genuine and bold.

“Why? You sound weird. I don‘t care girl! Haha.”

Amanda jumped up from her seat and caught the neck of her friend. The girl’s neck squeezed.

“Amanda. Leave her. Let it go!” Everybody tried to pull her back. But, her hands held strong and stiff.

“Knock it off Amanda! Enough!”, Betty said.

Amanda came to her senses. She hated that shack so much, Betty knows.

Amanda got back to her seat. She had almost dozed off. Somebody was pressing her hands tightly. Her blood was boiling. Her hands felt stiff and she felt dizzy.

Chapter 4

Amanda woke up next morning listening to the tap water dancing over a plate. She opened her eyes. She realized that she was sleeping on the couch all night and now it is almost noon. Her Momma was in the kitchen cooking some stuff. She slowly got up and felt really happy to see Betty sleeping over the couch besides hers. Her Momma came holding a pan and said, “Go and get fresh girls. I am gonna make Betty’s favorite pancakes.” Hearing this Betty jumped from the couch and raced upstairs. A few minutes later, both the girls came over and sat by the table. Momma’s pancakes were so delicious that nobody would ever wanna miss. While they were having their brunch, she noticed a sketchy vehicle parked outside. Before they could even react, a tall strongly built man with a blue mask broke into the house. He pointed a gun at Momma and he started talking something that Amanda couldn’t even understand. It was English but nothing made sense. She realized that the man was about to pull the trigger. A quick thinking made her to pull the plate and smashed onto his hand. The gun was fired but it didn’t hit her Momma. She felt relieved and jumped over the floor. She took the gun and a trigger was pulled. It took time for the man to realize that the blood flushing out his right elbow was having more speed than his arrival. Momma and Betty couldn’t figure out what was happening. It was the perfect time for Betty to dial 911. The intruder pulled out a knife and threw it in Amanda’s direction. It hit her right in the arm. She was feeling great pain and felt unconscious, hearing one more trigger.

Chapter 5

Amanda woke up in cell number 23 of Brookhaven hospital, a mental health treatment center in Oklahoma, listening to the sound of the water dripping from an old tap on the corner of her cell. She slowly opened her eyes. The blurred fan is still rotating as if it is getting faster and faster. She slowly got up pressing her bed really hard. She felt a narrow pain rising up through her hand. She couldn’t recall what had happened last day. She sat on her bed and her eyes wandered around the room. A tall blonde nurse unlocked the door and entered into her room. Amanda gave her a mysterious look. The nurse said, “Amanda it is me, Lilly. Here is your breakfast sweet heart!” She got up from her bed and looked outside the window. An old Dodge was resting there in the garage and a rusty shack with a board written “Enter at your risk”. She turned back and saw a Doctor standing besides Lilly. She looked at the Doctor’s name on the tag at his chest – Dr. Wills. People looked very familiar to Amanda but nothing made any sense. She wished nobody was there. The doctor noticed the leaking tap water and called out the lady in charge. A short red head lady entered the room looking at the tap and said “it never got fixed! The only mechanic of this ward, Mr. Wallace, has moved to Illinois last week. Nobody came to replace him yet.” Amanda was reading the name tag on the newcomer’s shirt – “Kate”. Feeling very uncomfortable around those people, Amanda pushed them all and ran. A guard caught her with his strong arm and tackled her down to the floor. She fell hard and looked furiously at the guard. He was tall strongly built and she recalled that he used to talk a lot about his awesome blue mask. Amanda couldn’t control her thoughts. She screamed like a 14 years old kid. While the guards tightly held Amanda’s hands, Lilly came along with a syringe and injected a strong dose of Psilocybin into a vein in her left hand. She felt unconscious, as something sharp entered inside her arm.

Epilogue

New York Times reported on August 23, 1970 that one lady(38) and a girl(14) were found murdered, and another girl(14) was almost killed in a tragedy at 13th street, Woodward County, Oklahoma. Amanda Bruce, the kid who survived the tragedy at Woodward, is placed under intense psychiatric medication in Brookhaven Hospital, East Oklahoma.

Dr. Wills, a senior Psychiatrist at Brookhaven, later told the news that, “the girl is at her young age and has undergone very strong mental shock. It is really sad and painful that she can’t go to her school or college anymore. In the worst case she will be spending rest of her life here inside the cell. She has totally lost the perception of time. Recent observations reveal that her thoughts could be circular and may appear to be showing completely complementary behaviors at times. These unfathomable conclusions lead us to believe that her mind will keep on convincing herself, through stories that has been absolutely cooked up using the codes that she receives from her immediate surroundings”.

Alice, a staff at the Brookhaven Hospital, recalls that the only thing that Amanda used to say, that made some sense to her, was that “I wannabe with my Momma and Betty”.

Amanda Bruce was admitted in the treatment center at the age of 14 and never got out. She has spent 39 years in the Brookhaven hospital until she was moved.

The 13th Street murder case still remains unresolved with a bunch of quandaries and suspicions. Amanda has been moved to a treatment center in central Illinois where she now lives in a different cell with a different number with different treatment systems, but still trying to save her Momma and Betty.

Amanda wakes up next morning listening to…

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Instant Messaging made easy!


Have you ever wondered while chatting with your buddies, how awesome it would be if you create your own instant messaging client? Short bursts of text popping up in your own style? If you know the basics of Java, you are all set and you can pretty much easily create an instant messaging client in not more than one week. Smack, widely supported XML based Jabber API, makes it easy to create your own IM. There are hundreds of free Jabber clients available (Ex: Google Talk uses open source Jabber as their protocol).  There are a huge number of interesting functionalities that you might want to incorporate in your application. This is an easy way to pull out an awesome app!

Let’s start creating a basic IM client, and I guarantee that you will be able to implement other cool functionalities on your own.

Specification

  • Creating your own GUI
  • Establishing basic connection to gTalk (or any similar clients)
  • Getting roster from gTalk and showing buddy-list
  • Able to send chats to buddies
  • Chat History
  • Status and presence (Presence modes are – available, busy, idle, etc.)
  • Additional features could include file transfer, music or whatever you just thought right now!

Design

While reading the specification, it is quite usual and natural not to understand any of those if you are a beginner. Let’s start with a use-case diagram for the IM client

use-case diagram

You would have probably realized by now that the use-case diagrams are just the top level design tool, but much important though. After getting the general idea about what we intend to do, shifting to UML diagrams or sequence diagrams would be a great idea. For the time being, let’s keep sequence diagrams sort of suspense because they show only a single operation at a time and the time flow. For drawing UML diagrams you can use UMLet, UML pad, or Violet UML or whatever you like. It is totally up to you to decide whether or not to draw a UML diagram at all. But, I strongly recommend because people design a building before they actually start building it.

UML Diagrams: When you are dealing with object oriented modeling, class diagrams come in handy. You would recall that a class diagram consists of name, attributes, and methods.  A UML diagram quite implicitly shows how a particular class interacts with other classes.  Given below is a UML diagram generated by Violet UML, with arrows showing their default meaning.

UML_Class_Diagram

Implementation Tools

  • Java editors like JCreator, Eclipse, Dr.Java etc
  • Incorporating SWING GUI in your editor
  • SMACK API
  • jFugue- for music
  • You may use JUnit or system level tests, but it doesn’t really matter here.

I don’t think there would be any point in explaining Eclipse, Swing, Smack or other implementation details because they are easily accessible on net. It is design not implementation the core of an application!

Here is a sample code to establish basic connection and sending a text:

ConnectionConfiguration connConfig = newConnectionConfiguration(“talk.google.com”,5222, “gmail.com”);  XMPPConnection connection = new XMPPConnection(connConfig); connection.connect();                                                      connection.login(“blahblah@gmail.com”, “password”);                                                           Chat chat = connection.getChatManager().createChat(“friend@gmail.com”, null);  chat.sendMessage(“Hi Dude!”);

You should be adding Smack plugins to the Java build path, so that your Java editor could recognize the Smack API.

If you guys need further information with coding or related help, just leave a comment! It would be my pleasure to post more stuff!

Thank you for visiting 🙂

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The Choice


Its all up to you to decide

The Choice: Pursuit of perception

INTRO: It has been a long trip over the empty streets and boulevard of tiredness. The smile that existed on my face didn’t know that it was betraying my mind. It was already a few hours past midnight and I could absolutely distinguish different sounds that were approaching my ears – screaming of vehicles from far away, dilute monotonic voice of a distant bird, cool breeze blowing over my hair, and several others. But, one among them stood exceptionally odd as it always did. It was something that I never figured out. Thrived from my old sins, a demon has been following me since a while. I have been searching for something that I never knew, like a kid jumping from a tall table not knowing it might hurt.

PART ONE: The cool breeze had died. The screaming of vehicles became more intense. The bird’s voice changed, showing hostile remarks, as if it was trapped in the cage of judgment. All the tenderness was withdrawn. I started feeling scorched. The boulevard turned into a huge fire. Each one of those trees seemed to be like laughing at me, with various sorts of vague meanings. I felt like getting fried inside a dorm. My head was heavy. My hands and legs were stiff. The smile on my face no longer existed. Even then, I wished somebody could walk with me for a while, knowing that it would be my last wish.

PART TWO:  Most of the trees surrounding me were already turned into ashes. The dorm seemed exactly similar to a haughty mausoleum, smelling fresh blood of those died trees. I realized that I was being haunted by something worse. Suddenly some of those dead and dried leaves began moving! As we all believe, God sends his/her angel to help those sinned people on their last moments. Somebody was sent for me. A tree which was died hours before started arising from its ashes like a phoenix bird. It looked so bright that the funky and haunted cemetery was returning to its original form. My legs gained precedence over my mind and I started walking towards it without knowing what to think and believe.

PART THREE: To my wonder I found a small bird on the tree. It was for the first time in my life I was seeing such a tree. It lacked all the properties of a tree on earth except its shape. The trunks were made of green emerald tanned with ruby. The leaves were light green in color showing all of its veins, reminding all the sins committed by the people. Suddenly, the bird looked at me. There was something unique in its eyes, something dense and intense. It started singing softly. May be all other voices were dead at that point of time or my ears were filtering sounds except something that it was supposed to be listening to, several years back.

PART FOUR: Most of the incidents that were happening that night were more of a discontinued dream rather than making some sense into me. The spiritual cleaning process continued for a while and the bird whispered softly, “you were sent with someone, and only that someone could assist you in making your choices in this sinned world. The word ‘sin’ is subjective and there may exist, no sin at all. It is all up to you to decide. There is no dorm. There is no boulevard. There is no fire. There are no trees. There are no voices. There is no ‘ME’ or ‘YOU’. This is just your dream”.

OUTRO: People may not always recognize the purpose of their life – they will be, or they are already, sent with someone. Remember, that someone need not be a person or a thing! Choice exists diluted dualistic in nature and I believe,  interactionism is the true form of duality that exists among people.

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