The Blind Man (i)

There was nothing that he thought he cannot do. With his most trusted and loyal adviser by his side, he strode with pride. Like an Emperor in his own kingdom, he created his palace to be as grand as anything the world has seen. If indeed, the peasants he commanded have the eyes to see. Verily, he outlawed "Sights, and all things seeing". Yes. He is a blind man. He is oblivious of the surroundings and kept himself castled in his little kingdom.

The day was dark, but made no difference to the Emperor. The dank alley gave off a queer smell, it did made a difference to the Emperor. He avoided the alley. The proud monarch guided by his adviser took a right turn. It was here that he heard music. Strange, he thought. There shouldn't be such music, his mind nodded in agreement. His adviser prodded and lead him to a door. The seduction was too overbearing to be ignored. The Emperor pushed the door.

"Hi Old Gentlemen. A seat? A drink perhaps?" A loud but warm voice greeted the monarch.

The Emperor bowed. "A seat befitting of my royal status."

The lady laughed. "Yes, your majesty." And promptly pulled the monarch by his hand to a nearby seat. "What would you like to have? Strong? Tonic?"

"A drink befitting of my royal status."

The lady yelled to her behind, "A jar of "Hearth" for this Old Gentlemen." Before turning back, and said, "Ok, your royal highness. I shall leave you to yourself." And she flicked off.

This place was a cosy one. To the rebels of the "Sights, and all things seeing", this is a little bar. The light was soft and faint. The gentle air cooled the leathery seats. The greened iron-signboard told of a long history of this "Forgotten Bar". The dousing whispers lured many to sleep. The drinks, the place and the calmness have all made this a place to forget. If indeed, many wished to forget and be forgotten. The blind man, for once, was sane.

He knew who he was and where he was.

He was a blind man, who has wasted much time struggling with the reality. He wasn't born blind. It was years of living that made him blind. A precious gift, forcefully taken away. As he grew older, he began to stop believing. To give himself up to the world and its hypocritical normalcies and perceptions. It was a world that bound people to its lies and "way of life". It wasn't what national geographic protrayed, the blind man recalled. A world full of miracles. A world that insects can grow in the most amazing place, only to be eaten by others. This world is hell. In his mind, though rusty, God has made his judgment and we are all left behind.

Curses. Left behind. Deaths. Crumpling of the social fabric. These dark thoughts galloped insanely through his head. The blind man wept. He shed a tear that he thought has dried long time ago. Yes, tear never dries, it merely stays hidden.

"We are all blind, there is no need to sigh. No need to feel pity, for its a soul-less city." A woman gently sang.

"Don't bother to open your eyes, truth is something we deny. No need to feel pity, its still a soul-less entity."

The blind man hummed to the tune. To him, it was an awakening moment. For he has been in too deep a slumber. He lifted up the mug of "Hearth", which was presented to him in a mocking regal manner. The lazy atmosphere drew him to sleep.

---------------------------------To be Continued-----------------------------------------------