An Armchair by the Fire

When did all the dreams die? When did all the ambitions fade away? When had that immortal fire which burnt in his heart abruptly disappeared? He had once been young and strong, full of vigour and exuberance, but time had ravaged his fervor, and all that was left were the ashes of a man who had once been a ferocious flame.
He closed his eyes, and at once he was sitting in an armchair by a fire. He was neither happy nor sad, neither good nor evil. But he was comfortable. In his mind’s eye, he looked back on his long and hectic life. His carefree childhood, his terribly dull school years, and the time he had spent in the army. Now, looking back on his life, he realized that he had learnt most of what he knew during his years as a soldier. For it was there that he had seen man’s true emotions. No one could hide their true emotions just before they entered a battlefield. All their fears, all their hopes, and all their regrets flowed through seamlessly as they entered that dreaded place. If one were attentive enough, one could learn things in a battlefield that can never be learned elsewhere, for it is here that one discovers the true nature of man.
And now his thoughts passed to his wife. He had never loved anyone or anything as dearly as he loved her, which is something that not many people can boast of in today’s world of materialism and disloyalty. But she, just like everything else in his life, had been snatched away from him by fate. Her death had left him bereft of anything to live for, and thus he had been left alone in this dark and pitiless world, with nothing but malicious thoughts and unfulfilled dreams for company. Despite being a man who had seen a large number of years pass by him like an enthusiastic breeze, her death had left him feeling as helpless and insecure as a newborn child. “Oh!” he cried despairingly, “could it not have lasted just a little while longer?”
Now, these thoughts had begun to make him feel restless, and he attempted to arise from his chair. However, to his anguish and amazement, he found that had been chained to his chair. For a while, he struggled with the chains, attempting to free himself, but after a while he conceded defeat, and as he did so, he realized the inevitability of his situation. “Yes, it is just”, he thought to himself. “Man spends all his life searching for comfort and happiness, which he cannot find except in his dreams. And finally, this surreal happiness becomes a lone beacon in a pitch-black land; it becomes an obsession. An obsession to which man gets shackled, and from which he cannot escape. And so it has been with me. The dream remained a dream because it was a dream in the first place, when it should have been there all the while. How much man has to be happy for, how much we have to be grateful for. And yet we search for something that is right before us, until it fades away, and we are left searching for something that does not exist. Oh! Were I but young again, that I may undo these mistakes and make my joy a reality! But alas! It is too late now, it is too late, and we all know that life gives us no second chances…”

***

And with these thoughts did he open his eyes. The armchair as well as the fire had disappeared, and he was sitting in a dark alley. He picked up a bottle of whiskey and put it to his thirsty lips. But it was empty; just like his life, just like his dreams.

"Fogive me......"

A lone traveller walks onward with heavy steps, for he has no particular destination in mind. The sky is blue, the sun is shining in a friendly manner, yet it matters not; for his mind is grey, his heart is black. It is irrelevant whether he is surrounded by people or not, as he is blind to his surroundings. He feels no exhaustion, no hunger, nor does he feel any kind of physical pain. How could he, being embroiled in a mental turmoil so devastating that he is unaware of all other things.

"I have sinned, forgive me". These are the words he keeps repeating in his head. These words are his last fortress, his last pillar of hope. Forgiveness. But each time he says this a voice in his head replies: "forgiveness cannot be granted to the weak. Atone for your sin and you will be forgiven. "Each time he hears these dreaded words he kicks the ground in frustration. Why is he being asked to do the impossible?

For the first time, he hears a voice which is soft, soothing...... "It's not impossible, if you have the will to do it." The traveller stops dead in his tracks. No, it is not because of exhaustion that he does so. He is past exhaustion now. He turns back, and looks at the vast emptiness before him, separating him from the only world he has ever known. How wonderful it would be, for the first time in his life, to do the right thing.He can almost feel the satisfaction, the relief thet was now within his grasp. How he wishes that he had the strength to turn back, give himself up, and save the innocent soul who has been accused for the crimes that he committed. He takes a few steps in the direction of this new chance to attain salvation. He walks steadily and determinedly towards this lamp of hope in his low and blackened existance.

And then, without warning, the image shatters, the lamp is extinguished. All his fear returns to him. If he returns, he will be punished, and punished severely. No one will recognise the courage of his decision. No, returning was pointless. However, a small part of his soul continues to urge him forward, pleads with him to do what is right, and not what is easy. What follows is the greatest battle of all: the battle within oneself. His mind is being torn apart, his heart is being shredded to pieces. And still he cannot make up his mind. Right, easy......... Right, easy......... Right, easy................ He ponders over these words for hours, and he still can't find the answer. His feet are rooted to the the spot. Should he turn back? Can he just walk away from his ambitions, his joys, his life? Does he have the strength of character to turn himself in?

***********

For how long has he been running? Fleeing from his treachery? He cannot even remember what he is running from anymore. He has no destination, no end to this long and tiring journey. He is still oblivious to his surroundings; the heat, the cold, the rain, they do not affect him. And whenever he is asked a question by a curious passer-by, he does not even raise his eyes. He merely mutters, more to himself than to anyone else: "Forgive me, I have sinned, forgive me, forgive me........"

Copyright (c) Shantanu Anand, 2008