" If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything."
Mark Twain
I've often read essays and books that praise and recommend their lifestyle. The most recent one, said that these are the true brave men. But why do they do it?
I guess, the common belief is that if you rid yourself of materialistic pleasures and if you do it long enough, some realities become visible to you. Here's what I think...truth is something that is permanent. It remains unchanged, no matter what your perspective is. I know people think otherwise, that truth varies from person to person, but it does not. There is no ultimate truth. There is nothing that explains everything. There is truth and untruth in every situation. Questions like, ' What is life?' and ' Why are we here?' don't bother me, neither should they bother you, for the simple reason that they don't make any sense to me. If they do to you, please take two minutes of your time to comment what you think, I'll love to read it.
If there is indeed, an answer to such inane questions, I hope it is not as unsatisfying as, forty two.(If you can't understand what this means, skip it.This sentence is aimed at those guys who have read The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy.)
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To those who seek the truth, nothing is more valuable. They will sacrifice anything for the truth. My advice to you is, that don't settle for anything less than the absolute truth. As an earthling, you possess the right to know the reality. Don't let anyone take it away from you, because they can't.
I wonder, if instead of collecting information to get to the actuality, one could eliminate irrelevant knowledge and eventually arrive at the basic facts, that were there all along(hope I'm making sense!).
So, that's it for now, I'll be busy in my studies for a while, so I'll try to write the next post as soon as possible. I'll be posting some short stories when I get the chance, for a change, a few film reviews, maybe.
In fact, I'll wrap this one up with a short story. A really, super short story.
He woke up with a splitting headache, and hazy vision. He realized that he was lying on a beach, clothes drenched and sand stuck to his skin. The cries of the fishermen hurt his ears, they were bleeding, maybe this was the sound that woke him up.
"Hello, sir!"
Startled out of his senses, he turned his head with a jerk in the direction of the voice. It belonged to a well-dressed elderly man with thin round spectacles and a funny accent. The old man was dressed completely in black, which further confused the man lying on the sandy floor. "Hazards of alcohol, eh, sir? Figured you'd be here," the man extended his hand, " Let me help you up, sir." The dazed man was reluctant to take his hand, and didn't. He spoke slowly with careful lip-movements, "Who am I? Who are you? What is this place?"
" Great sense of humor you possess, sir! just like your father." The man on the beach lip-synced the word, 'father'.
" Who am I?" he repeated.
" You were drunk, sir," the old man was sounding a little irritated, " Your name is Varun Sharma, sir. You act for a living and I'm your butler, sir. You hosted a party yesterday night, and well...things got a little awry and you ended up here." he paused to admire the scenery, and continued speaking while looking at the rising sun. " Anything else you want to know about yourself?"
The young man's face was devoid of expression.
" You've dirtied your clothes, sir, they were pricey," the other looked at his clothes, mechanically," Never mind, we'll buy new ones on the way."
He wiped the moisture off his perfectly round spectacles. He began to walk in the opposite direction.
" Get yourself together, sir. You have a lot of important people to meet today. I'll be waiting in the limo."
The younger of the two, pointed a thumb at himself and said, " My limo?"
Smiling, the old man said," Yes sir, your limo. Forgot to tell you one thing, you're filthy rich."
The man lay on the beach, breathing deeply. He smiled and started grooming his sandy, wet hair. Suddenly, he froze and the smile vanished from his lips as quickly as it had appeared.
" Is it true?"
The old man stopped in his tracks.
He looked over his shoulder, " Pardon me, sir?"
"Whatever you said to me, is it the truth?"
