Part 0: Magic Spell

[Disclaimer: This is a story. It is extremely and wholly fictitious. But shows how the ancient truth faded into fictitious thing over the several generations of human race.]

It was 7'o clock in the morning. The world slowly started making noise. We are inside a tiny dining hall right now. The windows were open wide. Sunlight was infiltrating into that small room. There was a young man standing near the window looking outside with the air of resoluteness. His hair was ruffled little bit and he had curved nose with tight cheeks. He looked a little decent and his eyes were so intent. He was obviously basking in the early sunlight but with little regards to it.

He murmured in a smooth voice, "Diwakar, you are all by yourself now. And all is yours. How do you like it?". Tuck... Tuck... A knock came on the door. A lady voice rang, "Diwakar... Diwakar....".

Diwakar turned away from the window and went into the hall to open the door. The washing maid was standing there. Diwakar lightly smiled at her. And turned back to collect his laundry and in a minute he gave her the bucket, soap and the laundry. She smiled and went to the terrace.

Diwakar locked the door again and went back to the window. His resoluteness was back. His mind was going over what happened yesterday. A vivid scene of he sitting in a chair in his manager's room. His manager was looking at him without any emotions.

Diwakar said, "Do I have a second chance?"

His manager replied, "I'm sorry Diwakar. Tough times, and no second chance. I have been fighting against this for the past few days. But there is nothing I can do. I myself can be in your situation at any moment. I reiterate that this is not because there is something wrong with you. But the company feels that the head count should be reduced at any cost. You will not be surprised to see some of the other folks leaving the office today. I hope you can have a great career somewhere else. You are a great loss for us."

Diwakar gruntled, "Can I place a counter offer?"

Manager replied after a little shock, "All was well decided. I should say 'no' at this point of time."

Diwakar just stood up and shook hands with his manager. "Thank you Saravanan. I will be leaving in an hour or so. Thanks for all the help over these years. You have been pleasant to me always. Thanks!"

He just came back to his cube. Stared at his laptop screen for a while. And slowly started packing his things. Something was irking in his chest all the while. He decided to send a mail from home to his colleagues. He just stood up with his bag and silently started walking towards the lift.

When he came home, for 4 hours, he was in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He mentally analysed his contribution in his team. His relationship with his colleagues and with managers; his aspirations; his blindness. He estimated a figure of his monthly expenses cutting all the luxury. His debts. His commitments. The money he lent out. He thought about how he was feeling at the moment. He thought about his father's reaction; mother's and his little sister's reaction. His friends' reaction and various other people he knew. He put all those thoughts in an imaginary dust-bin. He compared yesterday's Diwakar and todays Diwakar. Just one difference. Todays Diwakar is free to be anywhere at any time of any day and all days.

At the back of his mind, there was one thing. One peculiar thing was lingering. That was quite interesting. But he needed to go to Egmore tomorrow to visit Cannimara library. At the same time, he mentally noted a point to drop by a real estate acquaintance.

He uneasily went into a dead sleep. He woke up at 5am. Since then, he silently worked at his single bedroom flat. He stacked all the books he read so far at one side of the hall. He typed in various book titles he heard in his computer. He gathered several topics like "culture, languages, poems, literature, farming, religion, science, cult, dance forms, world musics, history of cultures, astronomy, etc" almost covering every aspect in this world.

He started setting up several meetings with several people for the next several days. It includes one of the Gurukkal in a near by temple. And with his old friend who studied history. With a Tamil pandit, with a journalist, with an old man who used to tell folk tales in his village and so on. Looked like he intended to meet people from all walks of life and from all fields.

He named a file like "Utterings of Jesus" in his computer. He catalogued several websites categorized under different topics. He noted "Verses and dialogs in Indian mythology in his scribble pad". He prepared a label with "Cursed to be something in literatures" and quickly writing down "Cinderella's prince was cursed to be a frog" in his scribble pad again. He added another topic "World leaders; what they spoke; what they did".

After an hour of work, he went and opened the window. The sunlight splashed on his face.

To be continued...