Brian's Realisation 

Brian felt like a nervous actor when he hurriedly left his workplace to reach his home library. He usually felt tired after work, but this sudden musicality of reaching tickled a joyful parade in him. He couldn't resist calling his dad about reaching his home library for a change. He told his dad that his name was Mark. He forgot to name himself Mark, his twin brother. He even handed a fifty-rupee note to a beggar on the way. The beggar looked at him with strange eyes that tilted upwards and landed down like a hawk defeated by its prey. The beggar felt more beggarly, as fifty rupees was neither less nor more. As Brian walked away from the beggar, he thought he had given the beggar too much cash. 

A man can dance when he listens to his heart's serenade. Brian's nervousness stemmed from his shiny appearance like a rainbow in the blank sky—his life was filled with nervousness in discovering the change in him. His office was a large cubicle filled with an uncharted zone. It felt like each cubicle was a strange island. Brian desired to be like a tightrope walker who wanted to safely be on the other side. Brian was a victim of workload. The auditing company felt like a court. Like most-awaited justice, every higher-level employee had their holiday cases approved, and lower-level employees were part of their workload. 

Brian had always felt like an outsider. His testimony was unheard. He wanted to be free from the workload that others imposed on him. Was he going to quit working? Every day, he was the victim of arduous hours.

His friend in the office had a different outlook on life. He was a successful writer who was being paid by the newspapers in the country. He seemed a lot happier than Brian. Brian was even digitally distracted and hadn't found the connection between life and happiness. He had one false conception: that solitude was bad because it was not social. Brian called this the understanding of life. 

Heading towards his office, he saw his friend buying a newspaper. His friend's interview was published in a leading daily. Brian felt the air of stardom blowing at his friend. He also felt as if it were his success. He greeted his friend and bought a copy of the newspaper. Brian peeled his eyelids and was gaping at the newspaper. 

"Do newspapers make you famous?" Brian asked his friend. 

"Think about it yourself. If you were lying in the gutter and wanted your city to know that you did not have alcoholism, you could rely on your name in the newspaper. I might say not only your city but also the whole world." His friend gave an outlaw reply. 

"Very unlikely," said Brian. 

"Well, what would be your choice of beverage then?" Brian enquired enthusiastically. 

"The real world, the understanding of it," his friend added. 

"Isn't it very disappointing?" 

"Well, there will be singing of dark times in the dark times," as the saying goes. 

"We have promises to keep, too," his friend said. 

"And jokes apart, newspapers are good to be seen in caring hands," his friend added. 

"I would want to be caught in doing the mischief of caring for it then," Brian said. 

"Suit yourself." 

"I want to hear the lore and agony of the world too close, like the rain and flood," Brian said. 

"Flood will make you a social worker if you learn to soothe the people's wounds," his friend added. 

"And rain teaches you the beauty of rhythm to go on your parade," Brian said. 

"Let's look at the newspaper." 

     "But I want to experience the real world." Brian ran off the street and crossed the bridge. 

The next day, in his dilemma, he woke up early in the morning with a buzz from his friend. He had run across the bridge, a sudden behaviour his friend had not expected. 

"Run as much as you want, but you will never escape yourself," his friend said. 

"It is something that Johnny Cash said," Brian added. 

"You know a lot of stuff. Put that to use," his friend added. 

"Breathe and look up to the skies."

"This quagmire is going to swallow us. I think following the passion should be the new work schedule," Brian added. 

"Talking brings fresh ideas, but the main thrust regarding inspiration is that it should find us working," his friend added. 

The next day at the office, Brian was called by the senior staff. He said he was on holiday in Bali and Brian should audit his files. Usually, Brian would accept the burden. He also did the same thing this time, although he was not entirely convinced that he would audit those files on time. Brian felt like doing something extra so that he could also be featured in a newspaper. His friend chose writing, but Brian wanted to do something different. His friend's example about the man lying in the gutter forced Brian to be a good character instead. 

He forgot his office, and the arduous auditing of the files was thrust upon him forcefully. He began doodling with his fingers during office hours. He decided to purchase some sketch papers, and while at the stationery shop, he also bought some 2B pencils. When he was about to pay the station attendant, he saw a poster pasted onto the pole at the roadside. It sounded like a call for appeal or help. The poster was from the old-age home. It was festival time, and they wanted someone to buy lunch and dinner for the residents there and help with some clothing. Brian felt miserable. He remembered the beggar who was neither happy nor sad when he handed him fifty rupee notes. 

Brian sat with a newspaper, but he could not read it. He even forgot the doodling of the crow. He left it incomplete. He looked at the dark shades of the sketch. His mind was unlike the white clouds. It became impatient. Brian left his office and moved along the roadside, leading him to the station. He did not know what he was seeking particularly. 

As he passed by the station, his eyes got caught up in the poster again. He went closer only to find a boy walking with a limp, pasting more of those posters. Brian went near the boy and asked his name. The boy had sunken cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. He said his name in a low mumble: Rajesh. 

Brian followed Rajesh and learnt that Rajesh was the cook at the nursing home named "Second League Home". The name of the elderly home sounded fine, but it was facing problems. Brian had some savings from working overtime at the office. He planned to plant the seed of hope. Brian saw David arriving in a Mercedes at the old age home. He doubted the status of David. Richness can also be a curse sometimes. Old age is a test for the sons and daughters. They treat parents differently at this age. 

Brian approached David, and while he entered the nursing home, he saw the writing on the wall: "When an old person dies, a whole library burns down to the ground." This was an African quote. As Brian entered the elderly home, he felt the bitter pangs of the reality of life—old age. 

His arduous office work was nothing; these older men faced trouble even in their second league.

Brian kissed Rajesh's helping hands and talked with David, Jones, Frank, Brook, and others. This was an old-age home for males. Brian saw the empty kitchen and nodded in agreement to its emptiness. 

"How does it feel to be old and living in an old-age home?" Brian asked Frank. 

"It is a curse."

"Could money solve the problem?"

"Life is all about looking ahead," David interrupted.

"I am so poor that all I have is money," he said. 

"It could buy sustenance for us," Jones said. 

"A billion-dollar business of mine could not buy me forgiveness from my family," David said. 

"And forgiveness for making no mistakes," he added. 

"I just wanted to see my children around me." 

"I will invest in this old age home whatever I have earned in my whole life," he said. 

"It is for revival and new bonding." 

That day, Brian learnt what completion of life sounded like! Brian set out to do what he would be proud of when he turned old. He started to manage the nursing home on his salary. He realised something in it.

(The author is a lecturer of English.)