Tuesday, June 13, 2006

The man who never cried...

He never cried. That was how people remembered him. He was tired of everyone stereotyping him that way. He was considered strong. A rock. Immovable. A shoulder for everyone to cry on. A God send. He was not supposed to have any emotions. And even if he did, he did not have the right to express them. Everyone else could have his or her moment. But no, not him. After all, he's never been capable of it. Never felt the need to. Did he even have any emotions? Who cares?

All his life, he had been labelled thus. His parents passed away when he was an infant. Even now, as an adult, people come up to him and tell him "If only your parents were alive, they would be so proud of you". And he would shrug, give them a sad smile and tell them "That was a long time ago". "Do you remember them?". "Well, not a lot. As I said, that was a long time ago". What use was it. What was the point of telling them "Yes, I remember my father and mother. I wish they were still with me". Would it solve anything?

He was not always like this. As a child, he used to throw tantrums and cry incessantly. At the slightest provocation, his eyes would cloud, and his tap would open. Tears would start rolling out, and he would cry. He would cry as if there were no tomorrow. People thought it was a way for him to vent his feelings. After all, hadn't he lost his mother when he needed her most?

But as he grew up and learnt the ways of the world, something inside him turned cold. It ceased to exist. Nothing touched him anymore. He could take the most tragic news without so much as a blink of an eye. Happy news deserved even less attention. People thought he had grown up. He had become a man. Men do not cry. They do not express their feelings or emotions. They were supposed to be dependable. A rock for others to sit and rest on, as they needed a respite from their daily lives. He didn't mind it. He liked being there for everyone around him. If people found him strong and dependable, then so be it. After all, their problems and hurt did not affect him one little bit. He could stay aloof, and therein provide the comfort they sought. And so he thought.

He was always available. And always willing to listen. People would come to him and gossip. Opposing parties would come to him and vent their feelings. He was supposed to be everyone's confidante. Someone who would never break his code of silence, and let their secrets out. He would patiently hear them out, give a smile and an understanding nod, and reassure them. In his life, he charted his own path. He had never depended on anyone or anything other than his own abilities and talent. But he could recognize the weaknesses in everyone around him. He would never look down upon them, but he could somehow understand them. He never judged. He never ever judged. Some people called him indifferent, others non-committal. He could see the ugly side in everyone, but he chose to see the good side. No one chose to be bad. That was his philosophy in life. That's probably why he never spoke bad of anyone. Never ever held a grudge. He realized that, for the most part, all that they needed was someone to talk to. And he could be that someone. Whether he liked it or not, he was that someone.

It was a glorious summer evening. He had just finished his run along the beach. He did not run to keep fit or have an athlete's body. He ran because he loved to run. His thought process was simple. Uncomplicated. As he sat there by the ocean, watching the brilliant horizon respite with glorious shades that no artist would ever manage to capture, he looked around him. There were kids playing in the sand, with proud parents watching. Waiting to pick up their children when they fell, as children usually do. He saw a couple walking, hand in hand, complete in the company of each other. He saw a couple arguing, the woman crying, and the man helpless. He saw a mother breast-feeding her newborn. He saw the waves, incessant, inevitable and infinite. Repeating their routine - coming ashore and receding, coming ashore and receding. As they have been doing for eons, before man was a form of fish in the oceans of the world.

And then it happened. Something inside him gave way. Tears welled up in his eyes, and started streaking down his cheeks. He did not make an attempt to halt the tide, or hide them from curious onlookers. He did not care that children were pointing him out to their parents. That the happy couple and the sad couple were gawking at him. It seemed completely natural. Long due. He did not move. As the sun slowly descended on the horizon, in a blaze of fire and orange and a billion colors in between, he sat there with his hands by his side. And he cried.

3 Comments:

Blogger Unknown said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

6/14/06, 8:11 PM  
Blogger Unknown said...

whoa! a complete change of literary style-all short sentences.

whoever/whatever the inspiration, the effect is stunningly realistic

6/14/06, 8:12 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

This story deserves a comment!:)
Was Great!
-H

7/5/06, 12:59 PM  

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