Man on the bench

Chapter 1

The pieces of the incident were all tither withered. But for the sake of my treatment, 'the brain doctor', as he was called around the medical campus, wanted me to jot down the incident. Ultimately, it's all in the brain you know. The colors and the shapes are all nothing but all the data that a computer would receive in bits and bytes. And only because a person's brain is functional can he really see the blue sky and red roses. But for me, the inception and the end all looked like the same. 

It was already dusk and the window blinds that were a moment prior guarding the room from the hazy sun were no longer required. It was june, and Goa's weather could hardly be predicted. One of the female student assisting the doc unveiled the blinds. And comparatively, the room was filled with light again even though it lived short. A person could tell that the weather here was relatively stable today. 

The Doc looked at me observantly. At that moment, my every movement, starting from a blink to stammering wrists, were observable. And the light attached to the chair focused on me while the doc and his assistant stood in the shady part of the room. Each once I rested the nip on the paper their eyes were filled with joy but I had to give ground every time. This dilemma took me a while when Doc instructed his assistant to fetch me a cup of chai tea and help me relax. "Look you need to take it easy. Be at ease. "  I, now distracted from the piece of paper, glanced at the hazy sight of doc. I took a deep breathe and took a sip of tea. Outside it was all clouds, proving the contrary of what could have been proposed a while ago and the darkened sky compelled the doc to lit a lamp which maintained the dim and steady atmosphere of the room. Once again, my eyes were on the paper. BAM! A thunder roared outside. The thunder was loud enough and suddenly, the room went blank. Lookin at my seizure and dilated pupils doc understood that my brain crashed again.  

When I reopened my eyes, I could make out that the doc was giving me a CPR. And for short but took me a while to be normal again. However, this time when I saw that sheet of paper, I placed the nip and wrote with swiftness. The doc cherished a smile.  "_

                                                                                           *******

It was a day neither too bright nor too dim, neither too chill nor too  warm. It was monsoon and the weather was nothing but something in between of everything. I was accustomed to a sporty jogging exercise as I departed from work everyday. The smell of dahlia was all around the park and nimbus clouds indicated that I had no more than fifteen minutes to complete my exercise before it could start rain. But I gave a shot to the idea and continued jogging. Not long, I could hear some thunder around and which was followed by severe rain. It left me with no alternative than to find a shelter under a tree. I recalled a park bench under the tree was not more than fifty metres away and sprinted with my best speed. And there it was, like a desert island. 

I shared the bench with a man. The man was a tall, dark and lanky fellow and he wore a sunglass that was quite big for his face. His appearance was not truly impressive. Also, he seemed to be lost in his thought trail. Better not be disturbed.

There are too many emotions that a man can see in the rain- love, grief, motivation. As if it was an ocean with the pearl of emotions embedded on its floor. All the song of the rain was quite mindful. It drove me away from the truth. The truth- that it was just a rain. And that it carried no emotions but only revealed the ones I carried inside myself. I carried a mouthful of load- a load of my dear departed. 

"You can only see what is inside you." The lanky person who sat beside me uttered. Contrary to his appearance, his voice, quite heavy, was impressive. "I can see the look on your face!" And thank god he said this because his sunglasses gave me an idea that he was bare sight. Anyhow, his warm smile made me undo the wry thoughts I made about him. " Not in the 58 years of my life has the rain given me the same emotion." Well that was quite an info about him. At that time I was posted a sergeant at the Panjim police station and among police it was a common practice to analyze the person with a sight. And people often got me wrong over that whenever I focused my eyes on there face. 

"I bet." I said in response. The man appeared to be educated in his manner of dressing. He had a classic white shirt tucked inside with a black tie. This was beautifully supplemented by his bowlers hat and a cane which went well with his age. He wore round specs and a musk cologne. "Life ain't same always. People find horror in there childhood when it rained heavily, but when they were lured into sleep by the lullabies their mother sang for them, it became a music. Giving up all the fear, when he fell in love it became a subject for their poetry. And when a loved one died, it became a messenger for them." He seemed satisfied.  The man nodded and uttered -

Blessed are the dead that the rain rains upon

But here I pray that none whom once I loved
Is dying to-night or lying still awake
Solitary, listening to the rain,
Either in pain or thus in sympathy
Helpless among the living and the dead,

Like a cold water among broken reeds

It was a wonderful extract of poetry inspired not without years of study of literature. The depth in his tone drew my interest in him. As if there was a lot that he has read from my face in a while. "I must say it was a nice piece of poetry. Alfred Tennyson?" 

" uh huh! Edward Thomas." He removed his sunglass and for the first time I can see his eyes. And It won't be wrong to say that he had sharp eyes, sharper than a blade. "A welsh poet. I find him undecisive in life. Afraid, always, of the loss and thus, hiding away from the responsibility of his decision." He was once again looking away from me.

"I totally, forgot to introduce myself. I am Sandeep Patil. Currently, a sergeant posted in Panjim police station."

"Xavier Plymouth. At your service, please." 

It was my first encounter with Xavier. For days to come we met regularly at the same spot but it was not until when he invited me to his canopy house that I knew he was an ex-convict.