This one is dedicated to a very dear friend. What he shared one day inspired this.

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I hate that guy even today. Had he allowed me that one chance, my life would have been so different today.

'Just a sec. Let me make a call... Hi, I will be home a little late tonight. No, nothing serious. Just chatting with a friend. Yup, ok. Love you too. Bye... You were saying, your life would have been different today. So was it like a different career or something?'

No, not really. Maybe I would have still wound up in this same job. But it would have been different.

'How?'

I... I don't know how to say it. Happy, that's the word. I would have been happy.

'Wow, really? Something that important to you?'

Uh huh. Well, it meant to me a lot at that time. He was a painter. And you know I wanted to be one too. I was really good with arts at that time. So I had gone to him with this painting of mine - it was one of my best paintings, an expression of rebellion - and I asked for his opinion.

But maybe he was in a bad mood or something. He didn't say one word of appreciation for the painting. He just trashed it completely. And on what irrelevant stuff! 'You have not used your strokes properly. You seem to be confused. This is the most horrible colour combination I have seen. It doesn't have any harmony to it. It is just plain random. This is not what one calls art.' Gosh!

'That bad, eh?'

Yeah! I mean, ok fine maybe it wasn't technically correct. But since when does a brushstroke dictate what a painting says? I could never hold a brush ever again after that incident. Painting was one thing that made me feel complete, you know. After that, it just felt like something went missing from my life.

'Hmmm... actually yeah, we never saw you participate in college fests and things like that. We thought maybe you broke up with your girl or something… Haaaah…. So anyway, what do you do these days then?'

Just work. I am on my own. I work as a researcher. You know, all the history and personal profiles stuff that you read about in the newspapers? That's me. I collect that information.

'Hmm-hmm. So does it make you enough money?'

Oh yeah, lots. You see, whenever these people in the media want to run a story on a famous person, they don't have enough time to actually start from scratch. That's where I come in. I provide the info, and get paid for it.

'So you would be knowing a lot about a lot of people.'

Well, not everyone. My expertise is that of the filthy rich people. I have all the information on most of the new celebrities, who rise from nowhere and suddenly become darlings of the world. Like this new Mr. Brook. Celebrated artist. You wouldn't believe, nobody knew him less than 2 years ago.

'Yeah, I am always amazed with these guys. I wish I could become rich so easy.'

No no no... He didn't make it easy through life. Every rich man wants to buy his sculptures now. But did you know, he was thrown out from his school. His ideas were so rebellious at that time, his teacher disowned him and refused to help him get clients. It's only now that he is seen taking credit for training Brook.

'But that's just one incident.'

No, he has led a tough life for more than 8 years, he's only achieved fame, like, in the last 3 years or so.

'Oh really? So tell me something... how many rejections did you face?'

‘He doesn’t have much time left’, he thought and sighed.

He was right. He ought to be. It was not the first time he was seeing someone die, definitely not the first of his kind.

‘Relax. You mayflies don’t’ live for long. Almost all of you die within a day.’

‘I know.’ He was unnaturally chirpy for someone who is just a few minutes from dying.

‘That’s how we are. We are born, we grow up, we mate and we die; all in a day’s life.’

‘Don’t you think one day is too short? Haven’t you ever desired to live longer?’

‘Why no! What would I do for another day? It would be terribly boring!’

‘I have been around for so long. It’s never been boring for me.’

‘Yeah, I hear you turtles live for almost 200 years. How old are you?’

‘I don’t remember exactly. I should be about 160.’

‘Wow! That’s a lot of time. What do you do with so much time?’

‘More or less the same that you do in a day. But our life isn’t as exciting or upbeat as yours. We are relaxed. We think a lot. We spend a lot of time mulling over things.’

‘Oh I see. So what would you do if your life was just a day long.’

‘Oh that would be so hurried. I will have to get a lot of things done in a single day. I would be so drained of energy. No, I don’t like being so tired and flushed. Probably that itself would kill me. I think I would like to live longer.’

‘But you don’t know how long you will live, right? What if today is the last day of your life?’

It couldn't hear the answer. It was dead before that.

‘Hmm. That’s something I have never thought about. I must think about that. There’s a lot of work I have to do before I die. What if today's the last day of my life?’

It was.

I want to start off with something easy, she said.

No, then I think the flesh and all will make you feel yucky. You should try this other option.

I am not sure if that’s a good thing to start off with. You know, it isn’t the same as the rest of it. It’s not like it will give me a taste of the actual stuff.

So what do you wanna do?

I don’t know! It’s the first time for me. You are a regular. You tell me.

I told you, but you are not sure of either option. What’s exactly on your mind?

Umm… ok. How about this? You first taste it, see if it is prepared right, so that I get to experience only what is considered standard, not something that's badly made.

You know, it’s quite simple to make. You can’t go wrong with it. With the other one too, you can be sure that it’s the standard coz that one doesn’t even require any preparation.

Are you sure I should do this?

Well, you said you wanted to. I have never forced you, I never will.

Yeah, but I don’t know if it’s right. What should I do?

It was a chicken or egg situation.

He punched the thick mattress on his bed. It still hurt. A shriek echoed in his room. If this was freedom, he thought, it would scare his guts to find out what bondage was like.

What happened to me? I was never like this. I could paint well. Heck, I painted well. And now I can’t. I just can’t. Am I the same guy?

‘No, you are not,’ He smiled. ‘I trapped you… finally!’

That wasn’t possible. He was not the one who could be contained. Not by anything. Not by anybody. Not even by Him.

‘That’s the trick,’ He said. ‘I can’t bind you; not physically I mean. But your mind… ah, that I can! Just one thought, one small germ of a thought, and I don’t have to do anything else.’

Was that it? Was it all that was stopping him? No, it can’t be!

‘It isn’t. Denial is very much a part of it, an important one.’

And he couldn’t take it anymore.