Angry Man Knows No Rules

When despite having ideological differences with a certain group of people, he still kept with them to test their patience it suggested he had problems not only with their ideology, but also with their keeping happy. He had problems with their getting closer on some point and he had problems with their smiling at one another and also with their newly found art of living.

 

During the recess break on the final day of a program somewhere in Kashmir, Wasif saw six of his colleagues gossiping and sharing some self-created sweet moment.  He was offended to see himself maladjusted. While the group was busy spreading smiles far and wide, the clueless angry man saw  the faces of the two ladies in the group blooming like roses and their eyes flashing with the newly found brightness. He felt jealous to see their four male colleagues executing their skill at making the words Jingle and the phrases set the bells ringing. The sentimental  discourse saw the beautiful ideas dripping down the poetic expressions from all the members of the group. It was but a beautiful session found by a small group that had gathered at a place without any fixed agenda. The odd man out,  could not digest the idea that some people should feel happy this way. It is said that when you have no argument left,  you better abuse the plaintiff. The  angry man  did the same. I had never known before that he would poke his long nose in every matter,  but he did. He came closer to create a divide in the group. He had no reason to tease anybody for he had found them flawless.  Thus he started targeting the idea which had brought smile  on their  faces.  He started questioning the art that ask for beautification of words and adoration of Ideas. He  descended to cursing the people who caress emotional sentiment, nourish beautiful ideas, and show others the real essence of life. He had though grown up shaping  his career on the left over of John Donne,  Andrew Marvell,  Wordsworth and Iqbal who have been pioneers of this sweet journey. Wasif was now,  in fact, earnings living discussing  the thoughts  which he had seemingly never subscribed to. He was,  in fact, spitting the well which had been giving him water for so many years. He kept teasing   his colleagues for the exchange of words and ideas.  These exchanges had created a beautiful scenery. When  Aasiya read out her poetry on the topics of "Solitude" and "The Moment That Made Me Mother",  every body turned sentimental.  All eyes were agleam and all faces were roses. One could see the smiles creating ripples  and spreading over miles and miles. How could  Wasif digest this bitter pill that had singled him out. He was asked repeatedly by the group to dive with them  in the wonderland and have a breather of life, but he did not,  as he had been the traveler of deserts all his life. How could he tread the path where princes riding their white horses found the fairies of happiness. Wasif  tried hard to spoil all the happiness but he could not withstand  the groups' commitment.  Everyone of the group was in himself or herself the god of so many small things too tough to deny them the sip of happiness.   Finally Wasif yielded and made  peace with the group . He knew it better that some times silence  pays better dividends. As even silent fools are some times  taken as the wise. This lovely  group of six soups had met first time  this way but they departed  after having  created strong bonds which will keep them spiritually connected for ages.

What about Wasif? Could he develop the trait of connecting people spiritually or his sprit would keep him haunted for all times to come? It will be decided by the time.