Peace

He opened his eyes.

All his senses were in working order.

The acoustic waves impacting in his ear, sending impulses to his brain, told him that he was in a crowded area with lots of people talking. The light waves focused on his retina showed his brain that there were white walls around him, with people wearing white rushing everywhere. His own lungs were pumping fully, his vocal cords working maximally.. "Congratulations. Its a healthy baby boy", someone said to someone else. And then the feeling of covered by something warm.

This was what he remembered of his first moments..



Another day, another memory. A big male of his kind was talking to him. He wanted him to do something. Something he couldn't understand. "Say Papa." The male said. He remained silent. "Say Papa". He said again. He moved his lips. The excitement was now apparent on the male's face. Finally, without knowing why, he said it. The male looked as if he had just won the jackpot...



Then, there was another day. His eyes seeing bright colorful clothes on things like himself. No, not like, similar. Some were baring their teeth and opening their mouths wide. Others, their faces in horrible positions, something watery running down from their eyes.. All this was happening in a place where a female, someone he was supposed to call his mother, had taken him to do something called "Learning". This place was called a "School".



As days passed, he met more and more of his kind.. He was fascinated with them. Happy. cheerful. Unaware. Unaware of their insignificance in the grand scheme of universe. Unaware that their presence was a mere fraction of a second in eternity. He felt isolated. And burdened. As if it was his duty to tell the people what they were. What was their reality.. So he took on studying their culture, to better understand them. It only confused him, the illogicality, the roundabout ways, the myths and the fights.



He found it difficult to comprehend how a person could "love", for example. When that is merely an impulse in his brain.



How one could die for something, when mathematically, he stands to gain more..



How people paint, when on its base, it is merely geometrical shapes.



The world probably was nothing but a deep sensory hallucination, he thought.



Everywhere he looked, he saw haphazard structures. People took longer paths than were optimal to get somewhere. They took approaches that took them in the opposite direction of their intentions. and yet, it seemed to make no difference. This was in sharp contrast with his own world-view. The shortest routes, the optimal approaches, the best options, these were what he thought about.



As he learned, his loneliness grew. He couldn't find anyone to share his thoughts with. People called him "difficult" to his face, and "crazy" behind his back. They laughed when he said "In fifty year's time, this city will be dead and another nearby would become the business center". He couldn't make them understand the reasoning, or his presumptions.



Another day, another memory. He met her on a bright day in a park. She was jogging. He was sitting, thinking about the intricacies and nuances of the delicate ecosystem. One that human tried to copy from his creator. He got up, he bumped into her. She looked at him as if he was supposed to apologize. He did. She accepted. he asked her to sit with him. She smiled. She quietly sat beside him. The introductions broke the ice. And then she left.



This was something new. An experience never experienced before. The thrill of her presence, her understanding, left him with a hunger for more. Next day, he waited at the same place. She came again. They sat. They chatted. To him, it felt that this went on for ages. She was a prime specimen of her species, yet she was also understanding of him. She helped him in his understanding. Of why people do what they did. Of how they feel. He kept feeling a connection between them. Something inexplicable. Yet infinitely benevolent. She said it was love. He nodded.



They were married within a year. And the very next day, he received a message that his parents had been killed in an accident on their way back from the wedding.

It was a solemn service. Everybody was there saying there goodbye. Yet he felt oddly detached. It was their time, he thought.

People are born and die every second, he mused.

They had fulfilled their purpose, whatever it was, he rationalized. Yet he couldn't control his tears.

She held his hand throughout the service.



The happy moments he spent with her were something he treasured. She used to take him new places, meet new people,do new things. Outwardly, he learned how to deal with diverse things. Inwardly, he learned new behaviors and their significance.



Another memory. His son was born on a bright April morning in a hospital. The sterile white walls looked strange when he was rushing to the Operating Room with his wife. The child was born alive, but his wife died in the process. Once again he was left alone. He receded into himself. Shut everything out. He felt that the world as he had understood it had been shattered. He no longer recognized the logic and behaviors he had grown accustomed to anymore. It was all unintelligible to him.



His son's graduation was a grand affair. He had topped his class and companies were lining up to get a hold of his expertise.. But the only thing that stands out in his memory is the confrontation. "You have never been proud of me", his son had said. "You are just cold. Without feelings. I wish YOU had died instead of my mother." He left. His son left. He was alone again. Alone in that big house. Alone.



He wasn't needed anymore.

His work was done.

All on his own.

Thoughts raced in his mind. Thoughts he had never thought before. He stepped toward the medicine cabinet.

Hesitated.

Alone.

Opened it.

Took out a bottle of sleeping pills. Emptied it. Swallowed them all.

He slowly walked to his bed. Sat on it. Then lied down.



His mind felt like a stranger. Yet everything was familiar. As sleep, and death, walked towards him, he felt the walls closing in on him. He could suddenly hear as if he had never heard in his life before. See like it was the first time he was seeing. It wasn't just electrical impulses going through his neuronal pathways. This was something else. He was FEELING.

Everything he was supposed to have felt, that he pretended to feel, he was feeling for real. His love for his son, his wife, his parents. His pride in his son. His grief at the dearly departed. Everything.

The Jesus, was crucified.

The Buddha had achieved nirvana.

The Socrates had taken his sip of eternity.

And thus, he saw Shiva and Morpheus come hand in hand. He greeted them like they were old friends. And he left. To Valhalla.



He was finally, at peace.

He finally understood.