It was evening when I was sitting on my armchair staring right into the window. A beggar was shouting out loud: “May God have mercy on your souls”. I didn’t know why he was shouting in such a pitiable manner. It seemed to me that, in fact, he was in need of God’s mercy. For an instant, I ignored him completely. Suddenly, not his words but the hope behind his words had caught my attention.
I stood up, took some money from my wallet, got down quickly and handed it over to him. I took my necessities and walked out because I had to attend an art exhibition. I didn’t really like such things, especially the parties and lectures on art, but a friend of mine insisted that was the reason I had to be there on time. It was a cold evening, and people were walking closely together, giving a stupid and silly lesson about unity. As the exhibition was held near my apartment, nearly fifteen minutes away, so, I decided to prefer a cab.
Unfortunately, I was late, and the exhibition had started. There were a lot of faces I could see of one face. I was surprised to see some newly married couple. I could see the hopes and dreams in their eyes. I wish I could tell that couple not to cling to the branches of that absurd marriage tree. Only care and awareness could keep their relationship alive, not their promises, as things change quickly, and their vague promises won’t stop it. In the end, misunderstanding and illusions led them to their bitter end.
‘Mr. Laban, you are late, you are late again,’ said my friend.
‘I beg my pardon, I had tried my best’. As you know, we are struggling. He roared with laughter, and I supported his laugh, although I didn’t want to.
‘Come here I’d like you to meet some people’ said my friend. That was the hard part for me: meeting people and forcibly giving empty smiles at parties. So I just met a few people and decided to walk alone in that art gallery. People were whispering that some of the statues were original and some were copies.
Suddenly I’ve caught sight a mother and her twelve year old boy. The conversation between the boy and the mother seemed highly intriguing. They were staring into an antique, which was basically the copy, not the original one. But the mother was telling her son in such a manner that the boy’s attention made that copy an original piece of art.
After a while, I saw that mother alone. I made up my mind to go and talk with that woman. I was surprised because she already had a one-sided acquaintance with me. Probably my friend had told her about me.
‘I was not expecting you here’, she said.
‘And what is the reason for your expectation?’ I said. Probably, she had read my newly published book about art.
‘Because in your book you’ve tried to prove the unprovable’ she mocked me.
‘No I’ve tried to convince myself of my own idea’ I said.
‘My sister liked your book, and she bought it. She said fake jewellery is as good as real things she said.
‘I wish I could be like your sister to accept the things simply and naturally because nothing is simpler about being simple’ I said.
‘I am sorry I am not getting you’ she said staring at me.
‘I simply mean that copy itself has worth, worth in that it leads us to the original and, in this way, certifies its value. Even we are not original, rather only DNA replicas of our ancestors, ’ I said. ‘The vision matters not the object, your vision makes the value of things as your sisters vision of fake jewelry’ I added.
‘I don’t like my sister’s ideas about originality’, she said.
‘It seems to me that human race is the only species who have forgotten the whole pupose of life, the whole meaning of existence is to have fun and pleasure. And here, your sister found her own way to do it, so we should not judge people. If they are happy and enjoying life, then we should congratulate them rather than criticize them.’
‘Let me tell you my favorite joke’ I said.
‘Sure’, she said.
‘A man is cast away on a desert island. One day, he’s walking in the desert, and he finds a brass lamp buried in the sand. So he digs it up, dusts it off, and a genie appears and says: “I am the genie of the lamp. I will grant you three wishes. What is your first wish?”
So the man who was hungry and tired said: “I want an everlasting bottle of ice-cold Coca-Cola.”
The genie waved his hand, a bottle appeared, and the man drank an enormous drink.
“You’ve two wishes left. Hurry up!” said Genie”.
And you know what the man said?’
‘Two more Coca-Cola, ’ she said instantly and roared a laugh h.
‘Look it’s not a joke. But there was a point. It’s the moral.’ I said. I didn’t imagine that she knew the joke.
‘It’s the laugh there is nothing to do with the moral’ she said and mocked again.
‘He is a guy whose life is simple, and he does not need anything. Rather, he’s satisfied with a bottle of Coca-Cola. We should live in the present,’ I said.
Suddenly, the rain started, and her son started playing in the rain.
‘Come here in the shade its cold’ she said to her son.
‘So what?’ her son replied.
‘You’ll die’, she said again.
‘I’ll die so what?’ her son replied.
‘Look at your son, sometimes we get things from philosophers, writers and scholars, and we think it’s wonderful. Children just live for the moment. They want to have good fun. They don’t think about the consequences or the causes.’
‘I think I’ve to go now’ I said.
‘But you should wait, it’s raining’ she said.
‘No, I have to go.’ I said forcibly. When I left there was a song being played there..
‘When we parted
Moving on
And believing
It could begin and end in one evening.’
The transitory nature of life and the fleeting consciousness of my mind dragged be back to those moments I spent with her, I who was philosophizing and trying to win the argument find myself trapped in the past and lost the sense of present. Maybe Nietzsche was right after all about his idea of eternal recurrence, may we always live in the past, or maybe there is no past, no present and no future, and we are deceived by this man-made idea of time. These thoughts occupied my mind when I was going back to my room. I thought of that child again and I thought of my childhood and a phantasmagoria of images started flashing in my mind and I thought of the memory, memory is not a way towards peace but melancholia.
