Is our life always calculated?
I always loved a life which was more calculated than reality. Like every one of you, I too defined success on the ability of profit, loss and the percentage of interest gained.
This had enabled me to answer a question, “Why do people alienate others?” Or maybe “Why do people dump others while walking on the same pavement?”
Even I did the same. I too ditched people because of meagre benefits both at the personal level and at the professional level. I always had this idea that money can take you to anywhere you want irrespective of any support or help.
If you ask me my present scenario, I would wrap up the entire question by a single answer “Successful”. I have my own bungalow, two private cars and a handsome amount of salary. But tell me something, despite being a perfect groom why should I marry someone and connect my earnings to her?
And then, I stepped into calculations. She was undoubtedly beautiful, tall, fair and my parents best perfect match for me. But I calculated. Indeed I thought that she should earn at least sixty percent of what I earned so that it’s equally even to link my assets to her.
Moreover, she should be at least twenty seven (as several calculations said) in order to be a typical mature wife who can guide both her professional and personal life without any fuss.
I wanted a perfect eyesight, precision figure, and unmatched eyebrows. I do not trip overlooks, but neither have I wanted my kids to possess the genetic disorders which my wife would carry.
And of course, while calculating the health of my future generations, diabetes is a strict NO.
Yes, indeed I support all religious contexts, but I do not want my kids to be diced over nonsense titillating issues over religion while they are growing up.
Well, after setting al the parameters, I pressed enter on the search option
All I wanted to find is s perfect word who will fill my blank, just as you would want.
But all these calculations paced my age to thirty keeping my blank unfilled. Six years down the link, I was stuck in a room bounded by calculators and matches based on calculations.
One fine day, when I woke up, I found myself amidst a pin drop silence.
I found doctors around me staring at my parents as if something weird and terrible had happened.
I turned back to see my body lying on a gossamer wrapped sheet and a doctor besides my body writing the cause of my death in my last certificate as ‘ Level III, Cystic Fibrosis.
And above all, I saw a girl sitting beside my body fumbling upon the words ‘I tried my best to ace your calculation, but failed every time’.
I suddenly realized, even my heart had a door which could open.
P.S- The work is composed of fictions and imaginary occurrences. Neither the author nor anyone is amplified by this story. It was an attempt by the author to redefine science of love.