4.The Dilemma of Differences

“Do talk to him, the boy. I am sure, you will find the cues you look for the story.” My therapist always had her way of directing me towards more thoughts. “And you have fun at work. Take care.”   I got out of the car and walked towards the classroom, each step towards the building was a powerful recollection of my own identity to myself. The strong red colour and the beautiful architecture of the building was always welcoming. The way to the classroom was filled with morning greetings and smiles from my students, all the young minds I adored. I entered the first class and closed the door. The click of the door was an escape to me, simply a room filled with thoughts. The white board was scribbled with some theories and creative jokes. The 30 benches were occupied, the classic first week.

“Good Morning! Just a single mail? Nobody else likes to write here? Take some more time you guys. You, people, are here for 4 years.” Talking to the classroom was another important intricate activity that defined my own self to me.

“This is going to be marked upon?” A student sitting on the first bench asked.

“Marked? Oh, alright. Yes, every interaction in the classroom is marked in my lectures. But I spare the room of technicalities for the first-year batch. And let talk less about things that appeal differences.” The classic queries were always around a materialistic thing inside the classroom, tried my best to make a distance in philosophy and materialism in my classes.

“That brings us to the topic we shall think about today, differences. Why this topic? I really don’t know, but it is a concern that literature links up widely. Every single text you read will be composed off a difference in the human society. Think about it, tell me the name of any literal work that does not appeal a social difference.”

“Harry Potter, J.K Rowling. The lady never talked about rich and poor, it was always about one thing in the entire world, magic. No levels of identity there?” A girl spoke up. The enthusiasm made me smile. “You Muggle! Or shall we say Mud-blood! Don’t say this to Hermione Granger, alright? Nice attempt and I love the fact that you find fiction unifying.”

“Poems? There are many, I suppose. Wordsworth never talked about differences in Daffodils.” The boy from the back questioned and had a point. It felt great to be challenged by the students.

“You got me here! I shall rephrase, A story including at least two characters. Even a lot of monologues in the romantic era showcased the differences in the country living and the urban side. But the point is that a single thought of the difference in a story can be the whole basis of its origin and why is that so? For what I believe we humans tend to make conflicts out of those differences.” I walked towards the podium and examined the different faces in the classroom.

“Conflict is the major reason that led you out to this place, the reason why you had to leave your native place. Might be economical in the form, or maybe a social outbreak against you? The reason I want to address this to you people is simple, you are the victim of differences and even here in Europe, you guys are studying in the migrant batch. So can anyone tell me what was the first question that the migration department people asked you?”

A unanimous response of the word, “Name” was followed through the classroom.

“Names, the entities purely derived from religion in most parts of the world. There are exceptions of course, for example, my Indian friend names the Greek Goddess, Athena. Yea, I have been around the world to study these differences for my first book. Religion is the formation for every difference and conflict in the world today or you may believe in the Capitalistic perspective, which is alright. So, this element religion, I want to start with this phenomenon that binds you and me to the roots of our culture.” My phone vibrated, I always hated the vibration of the alarm that was set forth for the end of the class.

“E-mails! Come on. That is all for the day, I want you all to ask your parents about the religious perspective and my dear atheist friends, tomorrow’s lecture will be a better one, I promise. You guys can go on to the next class.” I sat on the bench and looked out for Irfan, hoping that he might approach.



The next morning, I could indulge my conscience into every bit I felt. The colors of life had a vivid impact all together when I started following Mr.Abel’s advice on the mother nature. I had the classes before the evening with him, since the morning I tried the question every thing I saw with a positive attitude.I was all set to leave for another discovery and more links to the story of those blank pages grandpa left me. As every usual morning the streets were shining from the light and peace surrounded the path to my coaching, the birds gave me a laugh reminding me of the personifications grandpa had for me with every single being that enchanted the nature around, soon I entered the class and got the unusual morn as the reactions early in the morning, but I knew I had to travel through it all along. The first class was for physics, the subject got my soul with the very first phrase that the teacher started discussing about the power which holds onto the working of the quantum, the theory talked about how the smallest component of the physical phenomena can alter the result in big fragments.   This morning made me think more and more about what Mr.Abel was telling us about the functioning of the universe, about how it’s linked to our natural instinct.As I started taking notes my writing was impacted by each thought I kept within, the words reminded me of Sara and her puzzling behavior last night. With the end to the three classes I visited the library to meet up Mr.Abel for another session, he was sitting on the chair with his eyes closed. With my entrance, he said ” I saw the evasive truth, son. I felt my revival from the little complex game we are playing. I suppose those are my feeling about your grandfather and my dear friend leaving us his wisdom to revive and keep.” he smiled and opened his eyes, I never noticed the color of the iris to be so clear, it was dull brown with a sparkle.

“I just had a remembrance of a good dream.” I said trying to get more out of the man who knew every bit about my grandfather.

“That’s indeed a good sign that means your instincts are clear as the fire from the sun, they know where to fly off for the better reach. They know the essence. Aarav, the dairy is blank because he wanted you to write about it, all his theories maybe, he trust your prospect and so do I. Star creating the sentences, follow onto the depth of your muse. Cry out to the pages, write what you see in the living, there’s a lot more to the power you believe we hold, find whats lost within your own-self and then maybe help save the darkness to amber upon the believes of the puzzle.”  The words got into me like any song from my own mind.

“He used to say that magic resides in what you think and every expression is the spell that works upon the world with the peak of the words grace,  I will surely write about what comes to my mind.” I replied with a feel of redemption.

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