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Thursday, August 29, 2013

A Tale of An August Evening


On the stony fence, I sat in silence, thinking of nothing. Just staring at the changing tide and listening to the crushing waves. 

"So what makes these waves so determined?", a thought popped up in my head as with every attempt, the waves tried to achieve new heights - rise and fall - then rise again... "They never fail to rise again", mused I.

"Can I sit here"... said an old man with a cane - pointing towards one of the wooden bench behind the stony fence. This row of wooden-benches was installed few days ago.

"Yeah...!! since I don't claim the ownership, so you know", I was being rude. His interference didn't go down well with me.

"I didn't say you do", he chuckled. By ignoring my impertinence, his desire to strike up a conversation was obvious.

"Lonely oldies", thought I.

"You too, are alone or what?", he said as if he had read my thoughts.

"Is it a question or observation. Should I walk away. This man seems weird", just in a second, a plethora of thoughts crossed my mind. I turned my face towards the sea assuming that looking in his eyes could open up my mind again to him. We sat in silence. Though I tried to relate my thoughts with the waves but there was something in my heart wouldn't allow me to do so. I was more interested in supposed things happening behind my back.

"Isn't it weird how a seemingly innocuous remark distracts you or gets you in a stew", I thought. "I'm certainly thinking too much, didn't have the best of time of late. That made me even more insecure", I took a deep breath that somewhat broke the shackles of my thoughts.

"What makes you think that I'm lonely?", I summoned some courage to ask, because I didn't want a conversation, especially with a weird old man.

"ahaa you back"...
"Oh really", I turned back, "I was never gone", I peered at him.
"Oh sure you were, long gone. Somewhere with those waves yonder", he peered back.

"What are you mister", I thought.

"To see a young man sitting alone along the beach and think he's a loner", he shrugged "It's a no-brainer"...
"Sitting alone doesn't mean that someone is a loner"...
"You see that old man and those young folks", he said as my vision followed the traces of an imaginary line he just drew with his forefinger. The old man was sitting about 50 feet off us - gazing at the horizon. He seemed engrossed in his thoughts. And on the beach, a bunch of guys was frolicking away the cool August evening.

"The old man is just another pathetic being like me who is living with memories - only memories. While on the other side those young folks like you, are in the process of making those memories", added he. "As you're sitting alone in a wonderful evening, I can say you are drifted from your path if not lost", he tittered.

"Hmmmm Life well-spent Mr. Weird. You know a lot about life", I thought.

"Well that is a pretty flimsy evidence", I smirked assuming the air of sassiness again. "Being young doesn't necessarily mean you ought to be with a crowd. Sometimes one needs to spend some time with oneself. I like to walk alone on the beach or sit and watch the sun kissing the choppy water".

"Maybe you have an old soul then", he winked.

I rolled my eyes then laughed, and he joined in. He doesn't seem much weird now. 

"So you have an aversion to people". he whispered after a moment of quiet.

"Nope, I'm not what you thinking". 

"He must have been a chatterbox in his younger days" I said to myself.

"What am I thinking?".


"Then what's it?"...

"Let me say I'm just shy of people. I do spend some time with them, but believe most of them are hypocrites"...

"You are a cynic?"...


"What do you do?"..


"Interesting", he nodded, "I have a question for you. Would you say people are inherently good or bad?"..

"I think they are just people. What they do - makes them good or bad"..

"Exactly", he nodded again, "A moment of compassion even in a hypocrite can give meaning to a life. Life can bring about many dreary and unbearable experiences, but we don't quit living with the exception of few of course. It is like walking, when you take a tumble, you get up but don't stop walking. if someone wasn’t trustworthy, this doesn't mean that the whole world isn't?
There's only one way to seek out the truth about folks and that is to refrain from any sort of prejudice. Only then you will discover who is reliable and who isn’t", he tapped my shoulder and walked away. The dusk was falling as I saw his shadowy figure dwindled away in the gloom.


  1. Always nice to read your ramblings.
    A wonderful open mind.
    Trust shows itself in myrads of ways......

  2. Thank you, but how could a rambling be termed as nice? #justsaying

  3. As a journo you certainly know how to ask the right questions. This one kept me busy for a while. As I was sitting on a bench on top of a Malaysian Mountain, overlooking the beauty of nature I understood. The nature of a rambling is what makes the nice......... Ramblings have a quality of being incoherent, slightly confusing and show themselves as fragmented thoughts. The have it in their nature to project all fragments of life. You seem to have it in your nature to explicit these fragments in beautiful words. Reading your 'ramblings' is like overlooking the beauty of nature and that can be termed as nice. Thank you, Mister Journo. Kind wishes, Miss Philosopher.

  4. think now I know what ramblings are:)