In the year
of 1999 all my hopes shattered, my idea of life was uprooted and bones tingled
with fear at the very thought of love for I believed that every happy thing
ends on a rather sad note.
Yet after
years in hospital and more years in therapy I came out to be a strong person.
And during my periods of sanity I realized I had inherited much. But the irony
is when I wanted money I was penniless and now out of nowhere I have everything
I don’t want.
Pushing my
wheelchair hard, mainly out of frustration, I decided to end my social identity
as a recluse. I decided to sell books on a stall by the road!
I could not
continue with my old job of running a heartless company and neither could I
possibly face the monotonous schedule and official diorama. Added to this, I
didn’t have many friends who would ridicule my desire to be with people of a
different genre. But there was Mr. P, my psychologist and I didn’t tell him
about my future venture.
I was young
and reckless but that is how I found my wife.
Of all the books
at my home my most beloved possession was The Lord of the Rings by JRR Tolkien.
Almost every night I would fall asleep by its side. My father would read every
line with heartfelt emotions and mother would help me dress like an elf
whenever I wanted to run away into my dreams. But as I said happy isn’t what
was planned for me. Now, whenever I am broken I have my copy of the book and I
would read it just for the sake of old times.
Years later,
I was beside my stall, hoping to be greeted by a customer I read my favorite
book. The street was dark with a distinct smell of O’ Henry’s burgers. There
was a strong wind which made the atmosphere more gloomy and pale, yet I had a
strong feeling of being watched. Amid the howling dogs, honking cars and
screaming children Mr. P came. Stomping at the carpet he said, “Hello, Jensen.
How have you been feeling lately?”
I found those
words unwelcome. If I said that I was fine he would emotionally blackmail me
and if I said that I wasn’t he would hover over me till death. To avoid all the
agony I said in a rather puny voice, “Same old, same old.”
“Well, since you didn’t return any of my calls
I took the liberty of allowing myself to ponder over your shop. And by seeing
your under-improved state I suggest you should find another means to spend your
day. And how many times do I have to tell you not to read that book, not to
fret over what had happened?”
“This is my
idea of happiness and that is all I have to say.”
Providing
much relief, a woman too pretty for her age stepped ahead looking for a
romantic novel (a genre I hate more than anything). She scrolled through a book
and flipped through the pages just like the breeze which ran its hands through
her unbelievably dark hair. She asked what the price was and I couldn’t speak.
She was just as I had imagined her to be, my Arwen the fairest creature from my
beloved book. I searched for words and surprisingly instead of saying anything
required I demanded two dollars.
That night I
couldn’t sleep, I had been hallucinating. Scared I went to my bed with
difficulty. My inability to walk had rendered me useless. I flipped through the
pages of the wonderful book. I went into a deep slumber. And when I woke up my
world had changed. I wasn’t Jensen Archer, the poor rich guy. But I was the
king of the men, Aragorn, the rider from north gifted with wisdom and
longevity. My love of life was Arwen and I was there to save the world from its
doomed end. I wasn’t in wheelchair any more for I could run. I had somehow found
a passage to the place I had always wanted to be in.
