I remember how my elders used to shower me with all those blessing during Dashain. Words are clear “Babu, Thulo manche Bhae” (May you be a big mans, my son). May be I was too small back then. If it were now I surely would have asked ‘How big?’ But that small boy picked up a new notion or an obsession if you’d prefer to call it that. If you got to be big, you got to make changes. This was imprinted on my delicate brain and at times it leaves me miserable. It is as if the great statues had handed the task over to me, “You’ve got to change the world.”

This enclosed cell is my laboratory. No one dares disturb me here. Not even a cell phone. No texts; no missed calls, nothing. I have been liberated, since that last text message that came a few months ago. The text read, “I am sorry. I am in love with someone else. Take care”. This is what happens when you don’t take a girl to bed with you and insist on building a so-called ‘future’ with her. Frivolities don’t entertain me. If something compromises on consistency, it deserves to be eliminated. But who cares about her or those occasional shows she often sets up. It’s ‘the world’ that needs prioritising.

I have grown fond of bitterness. No sugar in my coffee. I am habituating myself to the taste. I sip the bitter coffee but still enjoy its aroma. I have learned that it is how the entire process works. With every gulp I prepare myself for my mission—Change the world. My clock has already said, “Today is the day.” I need to do this. The challenge is right outside the door. Just a step and my duty will begin. This has to be me. I am. The world will change.

Like I just said, it was right outside the door. The landlord, that sneaky brat has been hitting

on my next-door neighbour since the day her husband went

chasing his dreams in the deserts. It’s hard to see him flirt and try and win her favours.

“I don’t care about your compulsions and circumstances. This is my house and things are done on my terms here.” I remember him saying this when I was a week late on my payment. It’s certain that he is waiting for the right opportunity to kick me out of here. And I am not sure if I intend to give him one. He can waits. I turn around and head downstairs.

The world is in rush. People gaze at people with no feeling. A smile is expensive. In fact, it has become a rare commodity. All I hear is hooting and footsteps as if a monster has been chasing everyone. I hear screaming from stitched mouths; stitched, so finely that the lips can’t even stretch to smile. I see nothing. Hollow and lost. Have I been exiled to some alien land? The itching in my head has revived. Sweat and trembles. But stop. “Today is the day”, my clock has said to me. I should resist. I should smile. I must. I am ‘change’.

It’s hard to keep smiling when all you get in return are frowns. I have grown tired. Thankfully, I have reached my office or to be precise my cabin. This place feels like home. Why wouldn’t it? I have been denied promotion for five long years just because I just can’t seem to agree with all that I am made to. But I hold no grudges. I do what my mind tells me to. It’s pretty wonderful actually, to see how people can talk ‘smoothly’ just to move forward.

“Okay, today is the day. Greet every one, assist co-workers (though they have never assisted you), do anything but let that bring better tomorrow,” I tell myself.

Shruti is heading towards me. Though she has carried this ‘attitude’ ever since boss granted her a position as his ‘Personal Assistant’ (I wonder what brought that change about. She was

one of the most self-centred workers in our lot), I will have a fine conversation.

“Good morning.”

“Sir wants you to get this files reviewed by the evening,” she demands and turns away. I was fool to be expecting a little ‘cheer up’ conversation.

“In vain,” I whisper.

It’s fine. Maybe she was busy. Manish’s cabin is just next to mine. He is a fine young lad.

But he’s parties more than is good for him. I have regarded him as a brother from the day he came as intern.

“Hey, Manish. How are you doing?”

Silence

“You busy mate?”

As if suddenly woken he hardly replied, “Yeah, kind of. I am fine.” And silence again. He seems horribly busy. Let me just leave him alone.

As I sift through what seems to me an empire of words, my own thoughts disturb me. “What’s wrong? Is it me or is it everything and everyone?” sound the thoughts in my head. “Didn’t I try to fix things? Or is it too late now to expect changes?” My attention is divided between the demands made by my ‘boss’s Assistant’ and those made by my own ‘boss’.

Hours went by. No one passed me, let alone approach me, not even accidentally. And I didn’t want to be the one who to be disturbing others...and as if no one cared for my presence, no one came to ask me if I would join them for lunch.

It is five pm already. I came out to change the world and all I did was spend all my hours sifting through this monstrous pile of papers, for which I will get no credit whatsoever. I’ve got to run. Run for nothing, from nothing. Oh yes, wait. I got to run from the guilt of having failed. It was supposed to be new day. I was meant to do well this today.

Just run.

The streets are filled with strangers. As everyone is mocking me, although they’re not mocking me at all...how is it that no one cares about another? I’ve got to run.

Rush. I am in rush like everyone else. I am just one another in this sea of lifeless lives. I can’t do this. And look now, I didn’t even stop at the red light at the cross road. Just like everyone else. I need to pretend to save myself from feeling a failure.

No one spoke to me all day, I just heard them. No one smiled at me. And I kept smiling as if moonstruck. They never asked me anything or made me part of their daily affairs, and I thought was acting frivolously, like a nutcase.

“Look, there comes the psycho”, someone says. And group of well-dressed people begin to laugh at me. I don’t have the guts to face them. Looks like I am indeed a failure; a failure to all those who trusted in me.

The air in my room is suffocating. What is wrong? Is it me or is it the whole world? No, it’s got to be me. The world is but rules and I should play by them. I cannot choose to be more. But it’s something I have always failed at. I can’t. I should die, I guess. ‘Psycho’ they have named me. No. I can’t take it any longer.

Tick, Tick, Tick. My clock is the only one that communicates. Oh I needed to hear you. I know what you mean this time like all other times. It’s all about timing. There is always another day. I will live. I can’t just die like this. I am yet to become. I will rise up tomorrow. And I have to.