Buffering. Buffering. Buffering.
Sid's brows furrowed, and he felt a throbbing pain in his head to see the loading wheel on the laptop screen. He shot a glance at the WiFi.
No connection.
He closed his laptop shut in anger and darted his eyes at his dad, who was sitting on the sofa reading a newspaper. The first thing Sid observed on his father's face was the strain, not because of weak eyesight, but all those negative news. The murmurs were audible to his ears.
The newspaper headlines read: Magnitude 7.8 earthquake, death toll jumps to 280; more than 2,600 injured. The terrorist group attacked the school and killed many innocent students. Massive tidal wave devastated coastal lines and nearby areas: death toll jumps to 89; more than 1088 missing. Due to torrential rains, railway service paused a big blow to the economy.
His father shut the newspaper with a snap. "God is dead," he muttered.
Now is this true? Sid's mind jumped to various conclusions regarding this subject matter. Maybe God's really dead, he thought. But then why do we accuse God of all those natural calamities that ultimately caused by human exploitation of Mother Nature? Of course, it is eventually caused by us. But then, what were the mistake of innocent people who get massacred in such disasters, including infants?
Like this, whenever Sid came to a particular conclusion, another refuting thought would knock off presiding one to reign its supremacy. Just for a while, though. It seemed endless, so he decided to snap himself out of this contemplation. He asked his mom about this question, but cluelessness washed over her face.
*****
"And that's my little one's brain," Neha spoke through a sip of tea. Her eyes held a glint of awe. "Could you believe eighteen-year-old thinking like a philosopher?"
Neha's friends, who were there with her listening to her motherly rhapsody, presented her with a similar look.
Neha was a woman of medium stature, friends and family always reckon her as a management guru. You'd always imagine her draped in a fashionable sari, she didn't like old school ones. When a smile touches her lips, it's an ornament that outshines her expensive bindi or make-up. Her skintone was the real thing because even in the mid-forties, it glowed like a young adult. Yoga coming in handy, eh?
"My sons are a classic example of contradiction," she went on, "I find both of them opposite. One is way too much philosophical. Another one is a hardcore materialistic. Sid's big brother, Pratham, says, 'One who curb his desire is like the walking dead. Enjoy life as if it's your last day.' Sid's outlook on this thought goes like, "If you make pleasure as the purpose of life, you'll end up making your life purposeless.'" Pratham believes in living in the moment. Why worry about the past or future? Sid's take on this thought, however, never ceases to amaze me.
"He says, 'Your present is miserable because of the past choices you made. That's why your immediate actions will determine your future.' Pratham does get frustrated with his little brother's wit. 'Little Buddha is full of himself. Even I was once a philosopher until it dawned on me that my philosophy ain't going to sail my boat.'" Sid is unusual.
"I mean, the boys around his age are indecisive and unruly. My boy, however, is a deep-thinker. I mean, I don't know the right word. He's kind of a seeker. He questions the unquestioned and seeks answers to unanswered questions. I never saw him believe in things just because it's a popular opinion. He's a bit of an anti-establishment in himself, in a spiritual, however. Sometimes he comes up to me with queries that I can't help but scratch my head. Does any of you remember our college friend, Smita, and her drunkard husband, Mr. Soddi?"
The female friends nodded, and a surge of curiosity rose within them. Neha began to narrate another incident.
It was the same day when the wheel of introspection spun inside Sid's head like a windmill. His dad's comment on God. Later on that day, Neha went to see her college friend, Smita, who was facing domestic violence by her husband.
The boy overheard the conversation Neha had with local authorities and measures they took to deal with the miscreant husband. As expected, Neha's little one couldn't help but ask her to talk through the chain of events that happened with Smita.
He eyed his mom with a questioning look. "What made her husband addicted to alcohol?"
"It's because of failure, he became hopeless toward his life," she answered. She folded her hands across her chest and leaned forward at her little one. She stared right into her son's eyes in a motherly affection. They were demanding an explanation. Being a mom, she thought Sid was not yet mature enough to understand the inequities of life. His eyes, however, compelled her to narrate the backstory of Mr. Soddi.
It was an upturn of destiny: what goes around comes around. Earning money by hook or by crook is everyone's aim nowadays, Mr. Soddi had been no exception. He used to be the proprietor of tours and travels business, and by the sweat of the brow, he even let it flourish. His business expanded, but like the Bible said, pride comes before fall.
Once Mr. Soddi appointed his jobless cousin as a manager in his business. The avaricious brother, however, betrayed him and took over his company and power of attorney. Mr. Soddi couldn't bear this betrayal. He was in a legal dispute with his brother from the last four years, and eventually, he lost it.
"How did he lose?" Sid interrupted the narration, a lump of shock blocked his throat momentarily. "He was the proprietor, right?"
The boy narrowed his eyes and bit his bottom lip. He just couldn't figure out how—or why—this thing happened to such a successful man?
Neha became grave. "At the early stages of hard work, he betrayed his boss by framing him in illegal activity, so he got a dose of his own medicine."
Sid slightly opened his mouth in awe and let out a warm sigh. "So that's Karma. I never took it seriously up until now. If kids are ingrained with Karmic reaction since their childhood, they will flinch from doing anything wrong. I mean, except few moral stories here and there, I learned nothing from school."
Neha slightly tilted her head and jutted out her bottom lip. "Maybe, I don't know why they don't teach it."
****
"How are you supposed to answer that question?" Neha shot a grinning smile at her friends.
"You know," one of Neha's friends shoot the conversation from her side. "The young minds are impressionable, they say. If Sid gets along with a bad company of friends, he'll change."
"Then, you must listen to this incident!" Neha burst out.
****
A few days ago Sid went to a party with his friends, Ravi and the other guy named Sahil. It was Ravi's idea to bring out a bit of fun. He encouraged the other two to try shots of vodka.
"Let's do it, guys." His heart skipped a beat when he said that. He darted his eyes at the small glass of vodka. Bubbles were erupting and bursting from the drink.
"Yeah, man." Sahil stamped his hands on the table, "I'm up for it." He shot a glance at Sid, whose conscience was playing tug of war. "Oh, come on, Sid! Don't think, just do it. We're all young men; you should try at least one shot."
Sid pressed his lips together in a thin line, breathing calmly in introspection. Fancy lights around him acquired its reflection into his commanding eyes.
"Kiddo, I've been watching you since you were roaming around in your nappy!" Sid added before anyone could interrupt, "This decision of you guys involves popular opinion of being cool and shit. I'm not buying this norm."
"Alright, so we have a saint here!" Sahil took hold of Sid's shoulder. "There's nothing wrong with enjoying. Don't be such a killjoy. Just one shot!"
Sid busied himself on his phone. He shuffled through some random apps, and a word whispered get past his mouth (maybe a sigh?).
"Look, I'm not trying to stop you in any way," the boy said, "I think habits are like the petals of a lotus, you can't say which one's the first and last."
The silence ruled them for a minute, although the background was filled with loud music.
"I agree, partially, but look at these people."—Ravi pointed at the drunk people, who were having a whale of a time—"It doesn't make any difference to them. Will you be able to convince one person that alcohol is dangerous."
No, I can't. A voice rose in Sid's heart, but it didn't let loose his resolve.
"Be the change you want to see in this world." His voice held such conviction, which was hardly detectable in his usual way of speaking. "These people don't define me as an individual. I just..." He dramatically paused for a second to come up with different words. "I'm not doing it, but you guys are free to do what you want."
Ravi and Sahil couldn't come up with a counter-argument. Gandhi's quote saved the day.
"Oh, boy!" Ravi stifled his laugh. "After listening to the sermon of His Holiness, I'll feel guilty for the rest of the day, you know, if I drink." A grin on his face made it clear he was sold out to Sid's decision. He thought either his best friend was naive or a cut above the rest. He felt to go with the second possibility.