"We are always taught to follow our dream to achieve greater goodness in life. What if one doesn't have any dreams to pursue? What do they achieve in life?" Won't that make a great opening line for a book? Or a movie for that matter? Well, of late, such potent thoughts have started visiting me the moment my head hits the pillow. I lie there helplessly drugged by my desire to sleep and the inertia to get up, brave the cold, switch on the laptop and key in those words for posterity. Maybe, one day I will overcome the odds and just do it. Should I?
I have to write. Those were the words that escaped the dying man's lips. He was found lying unconscious near a mountain of blank paper. His autopsy revealed over exhaustion as the reason. But what did he want to write so badly that it killed him, no one knows. The task was designated to the junior cop who was part of the investigation team. Let's call him Namura. So here we are with Namura in a room with the mountain of blank paper. He is awed as to why should there be so many papers near a dying man. He picks a sheet on the top. He studies it. It's as blank as blank papers can be. No pencil or pen has violated its virgin whiteness. Namura thinks of the white bed sheets back home. He is tired. All he wants is to crash on his bed. He feels angry about the whole situation. Here I am, staring at a blank piece of paper, wondering why someone who wanted to write so badly didn't write a single word, while the whole world is sleeping on their comfy beds. He wanted to tear the ...
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