Narrative Experience On A Hot Day

A DIVINE EXPERIMENT
I reread the last paper I had just finished writing and leaned back in my chair. I pondered patiently what the reaction to my deed would be like, I was serenely curious. I had already picked my man and he had picked his people. He had already left and begun his journey. I placed the last paper on the stack beside. What I had written on those papers for my man was nothing uncommon. But that seldom mattered; for things never went exactly according to what was written. Although it was also true that people never got to know what was written. And it remained to be seen what would happen if someone did know. And that was exactly the deed I was about to carry out. Let my man know what lay in those papers. That faith and belief
Leaves rustled down from trees, too tired and weak to hold on. They fell all around the park bench on which Darshit sat. He did this often, he enjoyed sitting on this bench, protected from the heat by the shade of the Bokul tree, and watching the deserted park around him suppressed into silence by the heat. He didn’t enjoy the heat itself; he enjoyed the unique beauty in nature on a hot day such as today. A beauty that most people are unaware of, for when they repulsively recede from the heat, they do so from that beauty as well. He looked up at the spotlessly azure sky, one of the beauties on a hot day, and was conscious of his widening
All had gone well today, and yet he felt like all the reasons for which he should have felt happy, fluttered away like the leaves around him and left him empty like the trees. Today he had taken his first step towards a set life and career. He had been working at a call centre while on the lookout for a job that he could settle for permanently. Just like most mediocre people always did. This is what his father and uncles had done, and it’s exactly what they suggested to him to do. Having no other option, Darshit obliged. And now he felt like a fish caught in a fish bowl. He constantly felt like he was doing the wrong thing. Like there was something else waiting to be done. Like the entire world looked on with patient anticipation for him to do something. What it was that he should do, what that something was, he had no clue.
Today he had given an interview for a permanent job. If he got this one, next he would have to look for a spouse. Something his father had been pressing him to do since the last two years. And even against that from the deepest parts of him there came protests. Everything that he did, everything that he intended to do, seemed an empty meaningless act; their sole motivation – formality. He felt as though he was stuck in a rut dug deep by people before him, a rut that he didn’t belong to. But one that he was yet unable to climb out