The end of answers

What is your favorite hobby or pastime?

I was lying down on my bed. My eyes were close. A drop of precipitate formed on the side of my forehead and trickled down the sidelines towards my right ear. I wiped it off with my hand before it could enter the auditory canal of my ear. Was the temperature not comfortable? No, it was perfect. Was it time to sleep and I wasn’t getting any? That was not the case as well. You see I was indulging in my favourite pastime….. I was ‘thinking’.

Most people would agree that a thought is one of the most interesting things a human being can produce, but I personally believe it is the single most interesting thing a human being can create. I mean how would anything in life be that good or interesting without a thought behind it? Yes, there are things that happen suddenly that our thoughts cannot account for, due to lack of our own experience, but even those things happen a different way the next time, if we build a thought process around them.

So, back to the thought with which I began this piece of writing. Yes, I was thinking, about something which I had not paid attention to when I was told about it by one of my dear friends. But as I happened to recall my dear friend, I happened to recall something he had told me and I was giving it a thought. He told me about an elderly gentleman who was in his late 70s.

This gentleman had been for quite many years of his life the person with answers to almost anyone’s question. He had swum through oceans of books and been through a lot of experiences, some of those experiences quite preposterous to believe in, but none the less, to a troubled mind who could be better than a person with answers. Whether some of those answers contained any real understanding or not was another issue.

But what was the harm? In the end many people had received hope and happiness from his words. My friend didn’t recall anyone having faced any harm from listening to the gentleman’s words. But now the gentleman himself couldn’t make his own self content with his words anymore, but why?

He had somehow come to believe that age had hampered with his treasure trove of knowledge, carelessly losing it here and there, he could not answer many things nowadays and even if he did he was not sure whether he was right; and to add to his peril he thought his mind was betraying him refusing to align with this modern digital world, how was he going to answer it all now. I am not sure I understand how he feels completely yet, but yes, I am giving it a thought. Afterall, that is my favourite pastime.

Written by Anuran Chatterji

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