He sat on the bench at the bus station, staring into the world beyond. The feeling of slipping away into an unpleasant emptiness was overwhelming. There was nothing to hold onto. The two faces next to him were unfamiliar and were of the opposite sex. Trying to hold onto them would have meant a good beating from the public. So he decided to just sit there and stare at the world beyond, wait and see whether he does slip into the unpleasant emptiness or does he get miraculously rescued like in the movies. He couldn’t understand it. Everything was supposed to work out fine like planned. He had lived with confidence that all his decisions would be easy for him because he believed in living life on his own terms. A little slow as he has always been, it didn’t strike him before. But now he was sure. This theory of his was not the case always.
"Hmmm… didn’t see this coming though. Apparently living life on your terms also means you come to forks in the road more often than not."
There has always been only one rule for forks in the roads. Well two actually.
1. Short cuts are never Short
2. All roads lead to Rome
The later however is a universal rule, not just for forks in the road. It is for reminding yourself that irrespective of the decisions you were going to end up on the same bench in the same bus station in each and every one of the parallel universe’s at some point of time or the other. For people who ask him what the proof for this proof is he has only one reply. Whats the proof its not?
The man around 5 feet 6 inch tall. Could have been six feet too. The boy on the bench was not very good at judging physical quantities. So nobody will ever know how tall the man actually was. He was well dressed, the black full sleeved shirt well ironed and tucked in. There was a black bag hanging from his shoulders. His black shoes were all shiny and well polished. His black hair combed immaculately, the parting line fully straight and perfect. The boy and the man were quite the opposite. There was the man all neat and tidy standing straight and upright, head held high. There was the boy sitting slouched on his bench at the bus station head hanging under the weight of the all so heavy life. The man stood at the right corner of the Bus station and the boy sat to the left corner of the bus station.
The man was mumbling away under his breath. More precisely he was counting numbers. After a while, as though satisfied that he still remembered his numbers, he stopped his count and started moving towards the left corner of the bus station where the boy was sitting. The boy was sitting and staring at the floor now. The patterns that the tiles on the floor seemed to be exhibiting seemed to tbe the most interesting thing in his life right now. At least it helped him get his mind off the countless problems he had in life. Suddenly his patterns were interrupted by a black tipped stick and two shoes, shiny black and well polished. He looked up to get a good look of the perpetrator who had interrupted his peaceful pattern watching activity. There was a man 5ft 6in tall or might be 6ft tall, dressed in a well ironed full sleeve shirt immaculately tucked in. He had on him a pair of black glasses and out from behind the black shades one could make out a scar emanating from where his eyes were behind the glasses. The man stood on the entertaining tiles counted till five and then felt the pavement with his black tipped stick for where the pavement gave way for the road. At precisely that moment, a bus moved in and the man stepped off the pavement onto the road and off the road onto the bus. The boy sat there staring at the bus as it left. He got up slowly form his bench. His back was all upright now. His head held high. He looked up at the clear blue sky popped out music player and plugged the ear phones in and stepped out onto the road. He saw the light at the end of the tunnel. It was from the street lamp’s of Rome on the other side of the tunnel. He smiled and thought
“All roads lead to Rome….”
Along came the bus he had been waiting for. As he jumped onto it there was no more a frown on his brow. He knew the bus was going to take him to the street beyond the street where he lived. He knew that there was a barber shop in that street. He knew he was going there and get that funky little haircut he had been half contemplating and half dreading for sometime now.
"Hmmm… didn’t see this coming though. Apparently living life on your terms also means you come to forks in the road more often than not."
There has always been only one rule for forks in the roads. Well two actually.
1. Short cuts are never Short
2. All roads lead to Rome
The later however is a universal rule, not just for forks in the road. It is for reminding yourself that irrespective of the decisions you were going to end up on the same bench in the same bus station in each and every one of the parallel universe’s at some point of time or the other. For people who ask him what the proof for this proof is he has only one reply. Whats the proof its not?
The man around 5 feet 6 inch tall. Could have been six feet too. The boy on the bench was not very good at judging physical quantities. So nobody will ever know how tall the man actually was. He was well dressed, the black full sleeved shirt well ironed and tucked in. There was a black bag hanging from his shoulders. His black shoes were all shiny and well polished. His black hair combed immaculately, the parting line fully straight and perfect. The boy and the man were quite the opposite. There was the man all neat and tidy standing straight and upright, head held high. There was the boy sitting slouched on his bench at the bus station head hanging under the weight of the all so heavy life. The man stood at the right corner of the Bus station and the boy sat to the left corner of the bus station.
The man was mumbling away under his breath. More precisely he was counting numbers. After a while, as though satisfied that he still remembered his numbers, he stopped his count and started moving towards the left corner of the bus station where the boy was sitting. The boy was sitting and staring at the floor now. The patterns that the tiles on the floor seemed to be exhibiting seemed to tbe the most interesting thing in his life right now. At least it helped him get his mind off the countless problems he had in life. Suddenly his patterns were interrupted by a black tipped stick and two shoes, shiny black and well polished. He looked up to get a good look of the perpetrator who had interrupted his peaceful pattern watching activity. There was a man 5ft 6in tall or might be 6ft tall, dressed in a well ironed full sleeve shirt immaculately tucked in. He had on him a pair of black glasses and out from behind the black shades one could make out a scar emanating from where his eyes were behind the glasses. The man stood on the entertaining tiles counted till five and then felt the pavement with his black tipped stick for where the pavement gave way for the road. At precisely that moment, a bus moved in and the man stepped off the pavement onto the road and off the road onto the bus. The boy sat there staring at the bus as it left. He got up slowly form his bench. His back was all upright now. His head held high. He looked up at the clear blue sky popped out music player and plugged the ear phones in and stepped out onto the road. He saw the light at the end of the tunnel. It was from the street lamp’s of Rome on the other side of the tunnel. He smiled and thought
“All roads lead to Rome….”
Along came the bus he had been waiting for. As he jumped onto it there was no more a frown on his brow. He knew the bus was going to take him to the street beyond the street where he lived. He knew that there was a barber shop in that street. He knew he was going there and get that funky little haircut he had been half contemplating and half dreading for sometime now.
