THE DARK KNIGHT

You never understand the value or importance of the person until you lose him. He is lost in an instant. You curse yourself for failing to save your loved one. In his eyes you see the fright, the image of him pulled strongly into the gaping hole of death, his hope that you would save him at any cost. You couldn’t. You fear that soul would never forgive you.

You never forget that night. In your nightmare you see the person dying every time. You never remember how long it has been, it’s still as if it happened again tonight. The same fright, the plunge into the black hole and the same hope. You understand that the nightmare would occur again tomorrow. But you welcome it hoping you have a chance to save him in your dreams. But each time you fail. You believe you deserve another opportunity. You are determined that in some dream you would avert that mishap.

You believe food is not keeping you alive, it’s only the rage that’s driving you. Memories of your loved ones lurk in the blood as poison. Past haunts you all the time. While treading the path to future you look askance around fearing somebody is following you. You are sure that someday someone would keep an arm on your shoulder from behind, and would say, “Answer me Bruce! Why didn’t you save me?”

Bruce Wayne wakes up every morning with a nightmare. He stares at the stranger in the mirror. He sees the killer. Cold tear trickles down his cheeks, which reminds him of the same coldness that night, the mugger pulling the trigger two times and cold-bloodedly murdering his parents. 

He vividly remembers that face. He was just a mugger, who killed his parents for no apparent reason. His parents were philanthropists and among the most respected personas in the city. The father was a physician and the mother was an angel. He was just an eight year old kid then. He wonders why he wasn’t killed that night. That’s the reason Bruce is guilty. He believes his parents died because he is alive. He has no one in this world, except his family’s butler Alfred. He was so helpless he could not even avenge his parents’ death. The judicial system was not foolproof enough to fight the injustice inflicted on the Wayne family. He could not fight injustice as a man.

He realized that to fight the criminals he should become an ideal, a legend. A criminal is nothing beyond a human. It thrives on the tolerance of the helpless. Bruce wanted to become an ingrained fear of the criminal. In order to manipulate fear of others he should become the fear. In real life there aren’t any super heroes with super-human powers to save the world. Bruce was to become one, but with no super-human powers. He travelled the world and learnt the criminology. He tried to understand the psychology of the criminal. He learnt all forms of defense tactics and martial arts from masters around the world. Eventually he became an exceptional escape artist, master of martial arts, acrobatics, science, technology, boxing, disguises, criminology and detective skills. He embarked on his mission one night.

That night was stormy. Lightning thunders and rain reminded him the night his parents were killed. And then the window pane was shattered by a horrifying image of a black bat. Bruce found what he was looking for. He found the symbol he would disguise in to fight injustice and crime.

He resolved at that moment he would become the savior. That no one would lose a loved one again and suffer as he did. He attends the grave of his parents every night at the cemetery. He is still unsure whether his father and mother would forgive him. 

The Challenges of being an Intelligent Guy

Hello dear readers! I am attempting my first blog here on blogspot. Though I am strongly feeling uncertain as to who really cares reading what I write, I am daring to key down my ideas( one no longer pens down these days ).

 This is not about me in particular. This is about a person who is a cynosure.  He is a guy who has the best brains. Studies are the only one thing he is good at. But somehow he is never happy. His thirst for knowledge is never quenchable. The mathematical equation or some concept in physics is the one niggling his mind. Resolving  before going to bed that he would find answers someday. He is so rapacious about things ordinary people don’t even care about.

He scores well in exams, topping through all the semesters. He believes he has humility to welcome glory. “Kya dude how much did you score?” The answer is “90 percent!” He enquires, “How’s yours?” For some reason people don’t like this counter-question. It was simply an enquiry. He was just trying to be humble, trying not to be hubris about his achievement. Unfortunately his innocuous concern turns others inimical towards him. People curse him for not being gentle enough. The guy doesn’t have the right to ask such questions because they feel humiliated at the very fact they scored less. It’s indeed a double edge sword. If you don’t ask, you are inconsiderate. If you ask you are hated. He doesn’t understand what went wrong. He convinces himself that someday, they would understand that he cared.

The guy doesn’t have fast friends. He doesn’t want any. Perhaps there is nothing that important in life to share. He believes life is not a problem with no solution, that mathematical problems are more difficult. Even if he shares, he doesn’t confide everything with a single friend. His friends are many. Each of them knows a facet of his life others are unaware of. There is a principle in economics. “Don’t put all the eggs in the same basket!” For reasons best known to him, he doesn’t put all his life in a single friend. That’s his way of maximizing assets viz. FRIENDS.

The guy had an ambition since childhood. He had many choices- to become a doctor, engineer, industrialist, businessman, astronaut or a scientist. But life has its own course. No matter how valiantly you fight, you succumb to your own concomitant incapability. He doesn’t give up. He tries his best to prove the world he is not a stupid common personality, not a face lost in the crowd. He wants to prove he is the most brilliant guy, the one he is among his mates in school or college. However, the guy reluctantly accepts his defeat, cursing his fate he once firmly believed he commanded. The defeat is unaccustomed to! Sometimes truth isn’t good enough. He was not smart, perhaps only his mates were dumb.

Now, he thinks he is helpless against his ineptitude and oblivious to his capability. He wants to break free the shackles of consistency and sincerity. He can no longer stand this slavery. But there is a dead end. There is nothing else he is good at. Now he turns back to stare at his past. Past is a puzzle like a broken mirror, as you piece it together you cut yourself. Your images keep shifting and you change with it. It’s a black hole you cannot escape out of, its edges yawning at your feet reminding you of the questions you resolved to find answers that night.