Mr. Nobody 17-1-2005
Once there was a city. The gloomiest city that ever existed. Thick smoke came out of it giving off a repulsive stench. So thick was the hate in the air that it actually stifled your breath, and everyone who lived there had contorted faces, with wrinkles that stuck from frowning too long.
Now, down the darkest road, in the darkest square, in the darkest house, near the heart of the black city, where no sunlight could ever delve, lived a stooped old man, with red eyes and a sharp stick. He had a limp in one leg, though it had never been injured and his pupils were black, and terrible. Like two black abysses, with no texture at all and yet somehow grainy. This man was Mr. Nobody.
He was poor, and mean. He was the meanest man to exist. Nobody cared for Mr. Nobody. Mr. Nobody was always irritated, angry, despairing and wanting revenge. But his hate had been so strong that it buried the reason for itself. He did nothing until his home was covered in dirt and grit and rotting wood and broken bottles and the water that came through the tap was like black slush. This was when he finally had to work to survive. But he would not work ‘And’ he thought to himself, ‘no one would give me a job if I was dying on the streets.’ So he began to steal, giving himself the lying excuse, “They deserve to be stolen from. They should treat me properly.” but his worst excuse was, “I have no other way of living.” and that is what he tried to believe, to shield the guilt which grew heavier and heavier, for although he thought he was sending the guilt away he was actually sending the opposite direction- his heart. And before he knew it he had been stealing for ages when he’d thought he had just begun.He did not remember any family, except in drunken hazes when his wife’s death served an excuse for drinking, but always he knew that someone had died. Though it seemed impossible that he had ever loved anyone, he hated that person for dying, though he knew not why.
Mr. Nobody’s point of view was that that everyone hated him and everyone else’s view was that he hated them. And everyone’s response was this word spit out dirt from the mouth, ‘Fine!’ The truth was that he had become a little mean while mourning for his now forgotten wife and the people became mean to him, and they started getting into fights about if the death of the relative had been because of not a sickness but that someone had poisoned her food. This made Mr. Nobody angry and slowly, slowly, for one reason or the next the hate had become stronger and stronger until this day.
The same things had happened to Mr. Invisible and Mrs. Nowhere.
Now, in this city, which in fact was called Bliss, everything and everybody were exactly opposite to their name. So, of course, the revered judges, Mr. Wise, Mr. Smart, Mr. Understanding, and Mrs. Just, were none of these things, which caused havoc and more hate everywhere. In fact there was no one nice in the whole city . . .except one. This man was known as Mr. Terribly Unsensible Meanie. Mr. Terribly Unsensible Meanie (Mr. TUM for short, and teased because of it,) was great, wise and very kind. But everyone else cared more for people’s awe then their own personalities and so they all had wonderful names and terrible personalities, and judged Mr. TUM the easiest, yet most foolish way possible- his name.
Now, Mr. TUM had had run away from the city long ago when he was young and had the sense to do so before he became mad at everything that was in that city. The day he came back home and saw that nothing had changed at all he realized he should not have run away. He realized that no one else was going to save the city for him. So he started his mission with something which secretly he had wanted to do for many, many years. He disguised himself as a merchant and went to Mr. Nobody’s house. He knocked. Mr. Nobody opened the door. Just as he started shouting about stupid merchants trying to tease his poverty with their fake riches, Mr. TUM began. “I know how you feel. Though you may not. You feel as though your heart has shriveled into a black thorny sour rotten fruit. But you have forgotten. You have forgotten everything. You have even forgotten how to love! Do you want me to tell you the story of yourself? Do you want to hear the truth?”
For the first time the old man stayed silent and forgot his duty to hate. Because for some reason the word Love tasted sweet in his mouth. Sweeter than anything he had tasted for years. But he would not answer. So, Mr. TUM continued.
“Love is the only thing worth knowing, worth having. Why do Mr. Invisible and Mrs. Nowhere lie and threaten. Because they miss true Love. This city used to be filled with beautiful gardens and flowing fountains. There was bright sunshine everywhere. But now the whole city is in ruins because there is no Love. This is because once long ago a man lost his wife. His Love. His grief spread through the city which hardened to anger, when they told him that his son had poisoned his mother. He knew that his son hadn’t done it but to remove the anger and shame he gave his son a terrible name and beat the son until the son was forced to run from his home. The hate became so dense that it is breathed in from the air. That man’s wife took the whole city’s love with her. She was the last one loved. Now if that one man took the whole city’s love, then I think that he and his son can weave back into the city, can’t we, my father?”
The old man (for by now he really was an old man) stared at the man before him and stepped back, his bloodshot eyes frozen, his hunched form losing all strength as he collapsed over the other man’s shoulders. And Mr.Tum embraced his father with true love for the first time in forty years. The old man clung to his son as the first pure beautiful tears leaked from his eyes and he sobbed as you do when you know that it will be all right.
“Yes we can . . . and we will my son. We will,” he said in his old croaking voice which sounded almost more beautiful to the son than what the words meant to him. Now, in all of that darkness and dust and hate and tears they had a promise to the city that they said they would fulfil.
And so they did.
By P.L. Rao
Once there was a city. The gloomiest city that ever existed. Thick smoke came out of it giving off a repulsive stench. So thick was the hate in the air that it actually stifled your breath, and everyone who lived there had contorted faces, with wrinkles that stuck from frowning too long.
Now, down the darkest road, in the darkest square, in the darkest house, near the heart of the black city, where no sunlight could ever delve, lived a stooped old man, with red eyes and a sharp stick. He had a limp in one leg, though it had never been injured and his pupils were black, and terrible. Like two black abysses, with no texture at all and yet somehow grainy. This man was Mr. Nobody.
He was poor, and mean. He was the meanest man to exist. Nobody cared for Mr. Nobody. Mr. Nobody was always irritated, angry, despairing and wanting revenge. But his hate had been so strong that it buried the reason for itself. He did nothing until his home was covered in dirt and grit and rotting wood and broken bottles and the water that came through the tap was like black slush. This was when he finally had to work to survive. But he would not work ‘And’ he thought to himself, ‘no one would give me a job if I was dying on the streets.’ So he began to steal, giving himself the lying excuse, “They deserve to be stolen from. They should treat me properly.” but his worst excuse was, “I have no other way of living.” and that is what he tried to believe, to shield the guilt which grew heavier and heavier, for although he thought he was sending the guilt away he was actually sending the opposite direction- his heart. And before he knew it he had been stealing for ages when he’d thought he had just begun.He did not remember any family, except in drunken hazes when his wife’s death served an excuse for drinking, but always he knew that someone had died. Though it seemed impossible that he had ever loved anyone, he hated that person for dying, though he knew not why.
Mr. Nobody’s point of view was that that everyone hated him and everyone else’s view was that he hated them. And everyone’s response was this word spit out dirt from the mouth, ‘Fine!’ The truth was that he had become a little mean while mourning for his now forgotten wife and the people became mean to him, and they started getting into fights about if the death of the relative had been because of not a sickness but that someone had poisoned her food. This made Mr. Nobody angry and slowly, slowly, for one reason or the next the hate had become stronger and stronger until this day.
The same things had happened to Mr. Invisible and Mrs. Nowhere.
Now, in this city, which in fact was called Bliss, everything and everybody were exactly opposite to their name. So, of course, the revered judges, Mr. Wise, Mr. Smart, Mr. Understanding, and Mrs. Just, were none of these things, which caused havoc and more hate everywhere. In fact there was no one nice in the whole city . . .except one. This man was known as Mr. Terribly Unsensible Meanie. Mr. Terribly Unsensible Meanie (Mr. TUM for short, and teased because of it,) was great, wise and very kind. But everyone else cared more for people’s awe then their own personalities and so they all had wonderful names and terrible personalities, and judged Mr. TUM the easiest, yet most foolish way possible- his name.
Now, Mr. TUM had had run away from the city long ago when he was young and had the sense to do so before he became mad at everything that was in that city. The day he came back home and saw that nothing had changed at all he realized he should not have run away. He realized that no one else was going to save the city for him. So he started his mission with something which secretly he had wanted to do for many, many years. He disguised himself as a merchant and went to Mr. Nobody’s house. He knocked. Mr. Nobody opened the door. Just as he started shouting about stupid merchants trying to tease his poverty with their fake riches, Mr. TUM began. “I know how you feel. Though you may not. You feel as though your heart has shriveled into a black thorny sour rotten fruit. But you have forgotten. You have forgotten everything. You have even forgotten how to love! Do you want me to tell you the story of yourself? Do you want to hear the truth?”
For the first time the old man stayed silent and forgot his duty to hate. Because for some reason the word Love tasted sweet in his mouth. Sweeter than anything he had tasted for years. But he would not answer. So, Mr. TUM continued.
“Love is the only thing worth knowing, worth having. Why do Mr. Invisible and Mrs. Nowhere lie and threaten. Because they miss true Love. This city used to be filled with beautiful gardens and flowing fountains. There was bright sunshine everywhere. But now the whole city is in ruins because there is no Love. This is because once long ago a man lost his wife. His Love. His grief spread through the city which hardened to anger, when they told him that his son had poisoned his mother. He knew that his son hadn’t done it but to remove the anger and shame he gave his son a terrible name and beat the son until the son was forced to run from his home. The hate became so dense that it is breathed in from the air. That man’s wife took the whole city’s love with her. She was the last one loved. Now if that one man took the whole city’s love, then I think that he and his son can weave back into the city, can’t we, my father?”
The old man (for by now he really was an old man) stared at the man before him and stepped back, his bloodshot eyes frozen, his hunched form losing all strength as he collapsed over the other man’s shoulders. And Mr.Tum embraced his father with true love for the first time in forty years. The old man clung to his son as the first pure beautiful tears leaked from his eyes and he sobbed as you do when you know that it will be all right.
“Yes we can . . . and we will my son. We will,” he said in his old croaking voice which sounded almost more beautiful to the son than what the words meant to him. Now, in all of that darkness and dust and hate and tears they had a promise to the city that they said they would fulfil.
And so they did.
By P.L. Rao
1 comment:
yeah abt my passion that u were asking.. well been born from a middle class family, i dreamt of getting into iim and i ve done it....i see u are too mature for ur age..14 is given in ur profile..
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