The Connection

Today is the day I’m never going to forget for the rest of my life, as it marks the beginning of ‘life’ itself. Today is the day when I finally decided to stop dying every day and start living my life. Today is the day I resigned from my 10lpa job.

My friends told me I’m crazy to be doing this. They said I’m going to regret one day. But then, am I not regretting now? Am I not regretting every single moment that I spend locked up in my office chamber, wanting to come out and take that leap of faith? The time has come, and I feel ready now.

My parents had died a year ago in a car accident. And a few months after that tragedy, my girlfriend of three years dumped me. Because she thought I was “weird”. So I’m basically a loner. No one talks to me unless they have some work to be taken care of. No one cares what I’m going through in my life. No one cares if I’m dead or alive.

Well, I agree I’m not the coolest guy in town, nor can I ever become the life of a party like she does. I’m a simple guy with simple tastes. I like to sit down in my room and write. Like the way I’m writing this now. And I love it when someone reads my writings and appreciates them. That is the only time in my life when I feel alive. Well that reminds me, thank you for reading my story till here. It feels good to have someone to share things with. I think you’re a really good listener: reader, to be precise.

You must be wondering what prompted me to take this decision today. A 10lpa job would be any engineer’s dream. I haven’t revealed my reasons to anyone yet. I fear they’ll think I’m an emotional fool. But you seem like a really nice person. A lot more understanding that the rest.

It’s weird, isn’t it? I don’t even know you. I’ve never met you. And yet, I’ve started liking you already. Is it the magic of my letters? Or is it the magic in your eyes that are moving across these pages? You’ll soon know…

Just like the way I met you today, I happened to come across an old man a month back. I had gone to the terrace of my apartment to find some fresh air and peace of mind, both being equally unavailable in today’s world, when I found him sitting on the terrace wall.

I strolled up to him and stood leaning against the wall.

He surprised me by saying, “I’ve been waiting for you to come.”

I had never seen the man before. Though I admit he seemed familiar, I couldn’t recall any previous meetings with the man.

“Sorry?” I said.

“Don’t you recognise me?”

I thought for a second before answering him. No, I did not recognise him. Certainly I did not. So what made me get drowned towards this old man? What connected us?

“What was the last book you read, Nishant?” he asked suddenly.

“The last book?”

“Wasn’t it ‘A Fight for Life’ by K. Brown?”

I nodded.

“You remember the old man in the book don’t you?” he asked.

I nodded again, my memory cells getting hyper active, trying to remember the distinctive old man from the book.

His image slowly started forming in my mind, and the next moment I realised what connected the two of us.

“You are him!” I cried, almost jumping up. I knew it wasn’t possible logically or rationally. But who gives a fu*k about logic now. It was him!

The old man smiled at me and said, “Yes, Nishant. I’m him.”

“How is this possible even?” I cried again. “You’re supposed to be in the book. You’re someone’s imagination.”

“Yes,” he said calmly. “I am someone’s imagination. And then I became a part of your imagination too. And when many people imagine the same thing, it becomes reality, doesn’t it? Imaginations exist.”

I gulped, trying to understand the concept behind his words.

“The mind is a powerful tool, Nishant. It’s a whole new world out there in your imagination. There are good and bad people in there, some people you fall in love with, and some others you hate. There are some you just pass on as mere acquaintances and then there are some you sympathise with. Just like reality. Imaginations are real!”

We sat in silence for some time. I was trying to decipher what it all actually meant.

“They say I’m crazy,” I blurted. “They say I talk to imaginary people. They laugh at me…”

“They are fools!” he cut me short. “Don’t you believe them.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you believe them when they do not believe you? How can you say for sure that they are normal and you are the one who’s crazy? What if, Nishant, you’re the only one who’s normal in this whole world?”

My jaw dropped when he said that. “What’s the probability of that?”

“There are a hell lot of probabilities, Nishant!” he cried. “What if, everything you see around you is unreal? What if every person alive in this world is just another maniac? What if everyone is living in their own imagination with their own imaginary friends? What if all of you are just a part of some experiment of some higher power?”

I ran a hand through my hair. What was this man talking about?

“How can you be so sure you’re not dreaming right now?” the man asked next. “What if the world is just a barren land with a handful of blind people living on it, each living in its own imaginary world… each having their own idea about what the world looks like, it’s problems, it’s growth, the concept of countries, history, technology and life… what if you’re all simply insane?”

I sighed. His questions kept repeating themselves in my mind again and again. The concepts were too hard to take in.

And I kept digging deeper and deeper into these theories, finding new probabilities, and new reasons.

“Why are you here?” I asked him. “Why were you waiting for me?”

“Nishant,” he said, looking straight into my eyes. “That day, you were reading about me in the book with a unique sense of sympathy. You connected to my character somehow. I could sense your care for me. I could read your mind. You had let your thoughts sink directly into a newer dimension. And by the time you completed reading, I fell in love with you!”

“What?!!” I cried. “You can’t really fall in love with me! You’re an old man!”

To my amazement, the man started laughing at my reaction. “Love in our world is not the same as it is in here. It’s not love between a man and a woman. It’s the love between two minds. It’s the thoughts that appeal to each other, connect them and they come together. We are passionate about ideas and make love through words. It’s the brains that fall for each other, not the bodies.”

“That’s a little hard to digest,” I commented when he stopped speaking.

“I know,” he said. “But I know you’ll understand it someday. You’re a writer. Maybe you’ll too meet someone someday who’ll fall in love with one of your characters and the character will love the person back. When the brainwaves of the character and the reader will exactly be the same, they’ll connect!”

There was a long pause. My brain was getting the exercise of a lifetime while trying to figure out an answer to all the theories he just put up.

“So where am I now?” I asked him. “Am I in the real world or in my imaginations now? Are you real? Or is the rest of the world real?”

The man smirked. “Well for now, you’re right in between both,” he said. “You’re connected to both worlds, because you connected to my character. I think they call this stage insanity.”

I shook my head in frustration. “So what is not insanity according to you?”

He shrugged. “You’re not insane, Nishant. Your brain has the power to connect to both worlds of probability. This is not insanity, this is a gift. But it is beyond the understanding of the rest of the world.”

So that’s what happened a month ago.

And after that, going for a job and staying locked up in a chamber all day long seemed so futile. I started wondering, what if life is just a long dream we’re soon about to wake up from? What if reality is far from what I have been imagining so far? And once I started thinking, I just could not stop myself. There were so many probabilities. I just could not get myself to concentrate on my office work anymore.

So I simply went there and put forward my resignation letter. My boss had probably expected it, or maybe wished for it. So he said nothing. See how unimportant I am?

Well, I should thank you again for being with me all this while that I told my story. Not many would believe. And maybe you don’t either. But I know it has got you thinking. I can sense it. You’re now wondering if all of it might be true and smiling because all of it will be so weird then. You’re weighing the probabilities. Your mind is opening up, seeing every possibility it did not see before. Your thoughts are able to find the way into the new dimension that we fail to explore in our very hectic life.

You can connect to me, right? Are you able to think what I’m thinking? Are you being pulled in by the same force of gravity that I am? If yes, then it means we are rooted to the same core, like two branches of the same tree.

They say that I’m different, that I’m crazy. But that’s not true. I’m different, not crazy. The rest of the people in the world are all the same. They have this same strange fear of being different. Yes! That’s the fear every human on earth has! Everyone likes to follow the crowd. It’s a safe cocoon out there, isn’t it? No one likes to be an outcast. No one wants to fly. We just want to be together and do the same old things everyone else does. Grow up, get a job, get married, have kids, repeat the cycle and then die. Happy?

Well, no matter what you do, you’ll eventually die anyway. Finished. That day may come after fifty years, or even tomorrow, or the next moment. What if the roof over your head falls on you right now? You’ll regret dying won’t you?

So why not just live while you are alive? Why not be different? Why not be you? I mean, isn’t it just simple logic?

I fail to understand why the world wouldn’t understand my views. I’ll forever be ridiculed and laughed at because of their ignorance. There is this madness among them… this craze to be like ‘everyone else’. And they say I’m the one who’s crazy?

But you’re not like the rest of them. You’re different. We both are. You’ve been with me all through this mess. You understand me. Every character needs a patient reader to read his story. So you complete me.

I know I have said this before, but you really are a very nice person. When you graze your sight over my dry lines, it seems you moisten them with that curiosity in your heart. The letters come to life and find new meaning amidst the chaos on this piece of paper. You make me feel alive. Special.

I have taken a place in your imagination. And imaginations exist. In the same way, you’re in my imagination too. But you’re still real, aren’t you? I can connect with you because you can connect with my words. You can feel my emotions, my racing heartbeats as I let you into my deepest secret.

You and I are connected through every letter you’re reading right now because these words are nothing but my deepest feelings travelling towards you defying all norms of the universe.

… and I think I have fallen in love with you.

__END__