Green Stone Debacle

Perhaps the time was not right! The nylon ropes hanged straight in parallel lines, on the roof of the adjoining house, and they looked as red as the early morning sun. It made him think of blood. The very thought of blood running through his veins makes him sick. He puked many times while thinking of blood. But the problem was neither with the color red nor bloods for that matter.  It was rather the color green, a stone to be precise. Its magical how red and green always takes some contradictory paths. Like “Red” stands for Non-vegetarian foods, while “Green” stands for Vegetables! There were many other related things, including the political landscape of his city which came to his mind. He chuckled and muttered all by himself while thinking about the aimlessness of his life.  

He was fifteen when he first saw the green stone. It was kind of a curse as it actually deprived him from finding out the right path. It was a stone from the future planted in the present. He cannot really forgive that Canadian gentleman for making his life like more of a magic show or something which appeared to be queer from a normal point-of-view. It was pathetic at the beginning, till he started relishing the sweetness of the magic. Not being able to cry or feel emotionally down was probably a hindrance for a writer. But he had to remain satisfied with the “happy” image of himself!

It was a hot and sticky summer afternoon when he first saw the green stone. It was about three years since he first heard about it. “A green stone will show you the way”, the old Canadian professor told him once. For some no-good reason, he believed in the professor. So there he saw, the green stone engraved on the wall of an old clock shop. He first saw and thought that stone is actually showing him the way back home as he needed to take the left lane. But again due to some no-good reason he stopped and stepped into the stop. An old man was sitting idle gazing at the clocks which decorated that peaceful heaven of his. The shop was as clean and shinny as a child’s smile. It was bright and glossy and yet had that purest of appeal in it. He asked the old man about the “Green Stone” which he saw on the wall outside. The man gave a smile and told nothing. Instead he gave him a look. A look, which made him see the ocean. The ocean was as green as the stone itself. For the first time in life he felt the magic of time. It was the greatest debacle in his life, as it made him feel that time was something which has life, while we are all dead floating on the ocean of time. Dead people all around were measuring time by number. He found it strange that people tend to avoid seeing the obvious. “Why can’t they see time?” he asked the old man. There was no reply as usual and at that moment he found out that all the clocks had no hands in them neither did they had any numbers imprinted. They seemed to be like mementos or statues for that matter, mocking the very practice of superficial time keeping and the habit of measuring life on a number scale. It was a disaster for him, as that day onwards he lost all the interest of becoming just like others. It was a pain, which he never felt!