A silent spectator

He was just like any other person I had met. I thought he had more to him – maybe his silences held some deep secrets, maybe his stoic countenance held some repressed emotions. The more I tried to dig, the more disappointed I got. It was then I realized that his silences held no hidden meaning, and his expressions were simple portrayals of his true nature. It was his nothingness, his ordinariness that made him extraordinary. His unwillingness to stand out made him special.

Sometimes in the evening, his friends immersed themselves in various sports, forgetting themselves and the world for a few hours. And in those few hours, he sat in the stands, taking it all in with a smile.

He rose in the early hours of dawn, saw the sunlight shining through the leaves and breathed in the fresh morning air. I could picture him sitting in meditation, basking in the glory of the ‘superiority’ he felt at rising before the world. As humanity made its first stirrings of the day, he sat watching his thoughts in silent harmony with nature.

He was like the characters in a R.K. Narayan novel – simple, with a pleasant disposition and a few wants. Often times, I try to picture him. What must he be like in person? And often times, the playground of life comes to my mind. I see people running about, going to office, attending college, doing their chores and buying big buildings. And in the background I see him, a silent spectator, viewing the world passing by.

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