The listener

There was nothing particularly striking about him if one failed to notice his ears that were exceptionally large. He was the listener. People came to him and spoke for hours about all their grievances, joy, sorrow and whatever came to their minds. He sympathized with their sorrow, felt happy for their happiness, suffered with their sufferings and patiently listened to all that they had to talk about. He tried narrating his own story once in a while but quickly realized it was unsolicited. Not everyone had the inclination to listen. Soon his capability was known to people in distant places and people started pouring in to talk to him. With every new person he hoped to find someone who could listen to him. He tried to speak in between the monologues but was immediately asked to keep quite. Each time it happened his heart grew a little heavier. They liked him a lot except for his intermittent attempts at being heard. Slowly his heart grew so heavy that it failed to contain his own emotions which came gushing out at once. He could hear cacophony of voices in his mind and could no longer make out what they meant. He sat still and did not attempt to speak any more. People as always kept coming and continued talking to him. They liked him all the more since he had stopped interrupting them all together. He sat with his eyes still open but his heart did not respond anymore. It did not matter to anyone anyway.

Gibberish - A product of the mind

I consider myself reasonably wise. I gained my wisdom at the expense of my life. You guessed it right – I am a dead man. You would argue, how can one claim being dead if one is actually dead. But then do you have any experience of not being alive to know what all claims one is entitled to, after one dies? You might find this absurd. Well do not bother with whatever comes to your mind – it doesn't matter. What is important is this piece of information that I have come to share with you, which I guarantee will not bring the slightest bit of difference in your life, but is significant all the same. Like many wise people, I strongly believe that you cannot trust your mind (other than the times it suggests you not to trust it). But that does not mean you should not…for if you do not, you are bound to be doomed.

Since time had started ticking before I died, there was a time when I was still alive. I was as good in getting along with people as any misanthrope with a thought process that would place one only marginally on the “right” side of sanity and a morality that does not allow one to be completely insolent towards others could ever be - which did not amount to much. However I was not lonely. I was in love with my own mind. It was my best friend and a guide I completely trusted. So one night when it suggested me to leave behind my friends and a well settled life to live a solitary life in a remote place, I followed it. I was free to do anything that I wished to and was no longer under the compulsion of displaying an acceptable behavior in the society. In the beginning, I was happy on most days but there still occurred certain gloomy nights when my mind would curse me for giving up on my previous life. It commanded me to feel lonely and miserable. I argued that it was after all my mind that always wanted this life. However, in the end I obeyed it and felt terribly lonely and sad. My mind pulled me towards varying choices in different directions. It revealed new conflicts in me every day. With years passing, I slowly started doubting all that it had told me once. All my beliefs and ideas grew feeble. Even my emotions seemed driven more by my mind than by circumstances. In those tiresomely empty years I was haunted by my own presence. It appeared, living an empty life away from the burden of humanity weighed heavier than the everlastingly disinterested and alienated life in the society. I decided to go for the lighter option; it wasn’t an easy one though. I once again got busy with the mundane activities of life and tried escaping from the continuous confrontation by my mind. However, it did not miss the slightest opportunity to bother me. I had no control over it; it was the mind that was controlling me. I got into terrible arguments with it but drew no conclusions. After all whatever argument I gave against it was a product of my mind itself. I lost all faith in it. And yet there was no way I could go against it...There was no way I could win against it till I was alive. So on a similar night as that when I had left my home many years back, I got on to a building tall enough to ensure a safe exit from this world and free me from the clutches of my mind on landing on the ground straight from the roof.

During my final flight towards the ground when I was still alive, I felt I finally managed to defeat it. But before I could feel good about it, I knew that it was in fact the greatest victory of my mind, which let me live as long as it wanted to and now against all my instincts it has made me execute it’s final command on me.