Guardian Angel
It was drizzling lightly when he walked out of his office building. He had with him an umbrella, but he decided that the light drizzle wasn't worth the trouble of pulling it out of his back pack. He'd probably catch a light cold, but that was something that he was used to. It wouldn't kill him, at least for the time being.
He wasn't sure of the time, but he guessed that it was probably around 9 o'clock in the evening by the time he got to the bus station. There weren't many people waiting in the station, since it was past busy hour. This meant more breathing space. However, this also meant that there weren't many buses either. This didn't worry him though, since it was already late and that going home sooner or later wouldn't make much difference.
He looked around him. There were some other people in that station with him. People going home from work. It was a dull view, a small group of office workers waiting for a bus at a bus station. And he was a part of the view, he was an office worker too. It was during these moments, looking at these dull reality before him, that his intention of one day leaving the office world and doing something different was brought to the forefront of his occasional musing. He was a person who was easily bored, and routine was not something that he held in high regard. He was very tired, and this depressing thought only made him felt more tired. He began to daydream (a rather unfit term, since it was already night, but the reader should be able to understand), staring out of the window of the bus station.
"Working till late today?"
He was startled out of his reverie by an old man wearing a white robe with some sort of a white turban on his head. The old man smiled warmly, showing a set of healthy teeth. He had a dark skin tone. For some reason, he felt as if the old man was radiating with some sort of inner light. Or maybe it was because the old man was wearing a white robe. But he felt that that was not it. He thought that maybe some people really have this inner light that radiate.
He replied, saying that going home during this hour is something that was customary to him. "So you've gone home later than this hour?" asked the old man. He concurred. "Ah, young people these days, so busy and ambitious," said the old man, smiling and looking at him with an intense gaze. The old man then proceeded to look away, averting his gaze to the view of the towering buildings in the surrounding with an inward look, as if trying to dig out old memories. "So many has man achieved, and yet so many has man yet to achieve. Ah, forgive me young man, I must have tired you with my ramblings." He just smiled and said that it was okay. At least, thought the man, you're not as boring as these other people. At least, you're not as boring as I am, thought he.
"Ah, the bus is here. Shall we?"
Both of them got on the bus. There were not many people inside since it was past busy hours. Both got themselves some seats. The drizzle outside turned into a downpour all of a sudden when they got on the bus, and visibility was poor. "The rain, I always love the rain. So tell me young man, do you love your work?" He was caught off guard by the question, expecting the old man to be talking about the weather. He replied tentatively, saying that his job was okay, that he learned a lot from his work. He tried to convince himself that he meant what he said, but it didn't work. He also knew that the old man was aware of this. His smile told him so.
"Well, what is it that you want out of life?" A question that he didn't really like, since he had not found the answer to it. He was silent for awhile. Was it wealth that he wanted? He'd seen people acquire wealth, but that somehow was not enough. Was it recognition that he wanted? But recognition did not last long. It came and went, a hollow thing, immaterial, like a ghost, a thing which you couldn't grasp. "I see. You're not like most people who would automatically blurt out something akin to wealth and fame. Though they know that in their heart of hearts, it is not wealth and fame that they want. It's just something that they're used to saying."
He smiled. It's not easy as it seemed, trying to find out what a man wants out of life, he said. "Indeed it's not. I think it's buried deep within a person's subconscious, deep within a person's heart. Deep in his or her inner child. I guess many people have forgotten the dreams of their childhood. Disappointment, disillusionment, lost hope, so many reasons. So many sadness," the old man mused. He felt as if the old man was talking about him. The old man then gazed outside the bus, through the window. "Such beautiful light that has adorned this city. Alas, it's only a facade, a cover to hide so many broken hearts. It's as if this city is trying to brave itself, saying that there's no such thing as broken hearts. A crown of light, to drown out the darkness within. Ah, such a futile attempt."
They sat in silent after that, waiting to arrive at their own destination. At the station where he was supposed to get off the bus, just as he was about to disembark, the old man called to him "It's been nice talking to you again, young man. Even if most of the time you just listened and rarely said anything, smiling your approval or maybe disapproval. Hope we'll see each other again." He didn't turn to see the old man, but he could see him smiling from the reflection on the window on the bus' door. He smiled. As he was walking, he looked to the side at the glass wall of the bus station. He saw the old man there, walking with him. He said to himself, "It's been awhile, old man. It's nice to hear you talking again. Come again anytime." The old man in the glass wall smiled. He walked away, and the old man walked away with him.
Author's note: It's frustrating sometimes, running out of material to write. But one must finish a story. Even if in the end there's no point in the story. Thanks to the old man in the white robe and turban for the warning. Even if back then the author didn't really heed his warning, but it was enough help.
He wasn't sure of the time, but he guessed that it was probably around 9 o'clock in the evening by the time he got to the bus station. There weren't many people waiting in the station, since it was past busy hour. This meant more breathing space. However, this also meant that there weren't many buses either. This didn't worry him though, since it was already late and that going home sooner or later wouldn't make much difference.
He looked around him. There were some other people in that station with him. People going home from work. It was a dull view, a small group of office workers waiting for a bus at a bus station. And he was a part of the view, he was an office worker too. It was during these moments, looking at these dull reality before him, that his intention of one day leaving the office world and doing something different was brought to the forefront of his occasional musing. He was a person who was easily bored, and routine was not something that he held in high regard. He was very tired, and this depressing thought only made him felt more tired. He began to daydream (a rather unfit term, since it was already night, but the reader should be able to understand), staring out of the window of the bus station.
"Working till late today?"
He was startled out of his reverie by an old man wearing a white robe with some sort of a white turban on his head. The old man smiled warmly, showing a set of healthy teeth. He had a dark skin tone. For some reason, he felt as if the old man was radiating with some sort of inner light. Or maybe it was because the old man was wearing a white robe. But he felt that that was not it. He thought that maybe some people really have this inner light that radiate.
He replied, saying that going home during this hour is something that was customary to him. "So you've gone home later than this hour?" asked the old man. He concurred. "Ah, young people these days, so busy and ambitious," said the old man, smiling and looking at him with an intense gaze. The old man then proceeded to look away, averting his gaze to the view of the towering buildings in the surrounding with an inward look, as if trying to dig out old memories. "So many has man achieved, and yet so many has man yet to achieve. Ah, forgive me young man, I must have tired you with my ramblings." He just smiled and said that it was okay. At least, thought the man, you're not as boring as these other people. At least, you're not as boring as I am, thought he.
"Ah, the bus is here. Shall we?"
Both of them got on the bus. There were not many people inside since it was past busy hours. Both got themselves some seats. The drizzle outside turned into a downpour all of a sudden when they got on the bus, and visibility was poor. "The rain, I always love the rain. So tell me young man, do you love your work?" He was caught off guard by the question, expecting the old man to be talking about the weather. He replied tentatively, saying that his job was okay, that he learned a lot from his work. He tried to convince himself that he meant what he said, but it didn't work. He also knew that the old man was aware of this. His smile told him so.
"Well, what is it that you want out of life?" A question that he didn't really like, since he had not found the answer to it. He was silent for awhile. Was it wealth that he wanted? He'd seen people acquire wealth, but that somehow was not enough. Was it recognition that he wanted? But recognition did not last long. It came and went, a hollow thing, immaterial, like a ghost, a thing which you couldn't grasp. "I see. You're not like most people who would automatically blurt out something akin to wealth and fame. Though they know that in their heart of hearts, it is not wealth and fame that they want. It's just something that they're used to saying."
He smiled. It's not easy as it seemed, trying to find out what a man wants out of life, he said. "Indeed it's not. I think it's buried deep within a person's subconscious, deep within a person's heart. Deep in his or her inner child. I guess many people have forgotten the dreams of their childhood. Disappointment, disillusionment, lost hope, so many reasons. So many sadness," the old man mused. He felt as if the old man was talking about him. The old man then gazed outside the bus, through the window. "Such beautiful light that has adorned this city. Alas, it's only a facade, a cover to hide so many broken hearts. It's as if this city is trying to brave itself, saying that there's no such thing as broken hearts. A crown of light, to drown out the darkness within. Ah, such a futile attempt."
They sat in silent after that, waiting to arrive at their own destination. At the station where he was supposed to get off the bus, just as he was about to disembark, the old man called to him "It's been nice talking to you again, young man. Even if most of the time you just listened and rarely said anything, smiling your approval or maybe disapproval. Hope we'll see each other again." He didn't turn to see the old man, but he could see him smiling from the reflection on the window on the bus' door. He smiled. As he was walking, he looked to the side at the glass wall of the bus station. He saw the old man there, walking with him. He said to himself, "It's been awhile, old man. It's nice to hear you talking again. Come again anytime." The old man in the glass wall smiled. He walked away, and the old man walked away with him.
Author's note: It's frustrating sometimes, running out of material to write. But one must finish a story. Even if in the end there's no point in the story. Thanks to the old man in the white robe and turban for the warning. Even if back then the author didn't really heed his warning, but it was enough help.
1 Comments:
At 4:20 PM,
meimeiletti said…
Naah...
You write good, old man;p
Seriously.
Wish I could be more eloquent myself... He3.
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