And that was his past. “What happened?” she asked. “That was a story long gone” he said, not paying much attention on her. This was his life now and if anybody cared to ask about his past, he would simply say, “That was a story long gone.” True to his word that was his life then, having lived that painful life which no one could wish for. And his life now? Well it was not heaven but at least it was not hell.
The years when he would live in the streets, in the corridors where people passed without looking back unless they used the same path to return. He was now 30 years old; a closer look showed he did not have a good life at a younger age. He was short in height, chocolate black in complexion, had that mockery smile, careless hands and his legs as if enduring carrying the weight of the whole body walked slowly.
He loved black suits and he constantly put on a coat even on a hot day to hide the scar on his arm and his friends threatened to remove the coat, but he would give them one stern look that made them quiver and shrunk in fear. Most of his days were busy and on a less busy day all the past life deeds came back to his mind and filled him with anger that made him cry like a small child, and constantly his secretary would ask “what happened?”
Today Mr. Man is walking in the same street he lived once, before a miracle happened and landed him in an office. Many years have passed since then and like any other person Mr. Man has tried to forget his past especially that painful past. He has constantly avoided this street. At least for now you know why, do you? This was his hell which tortured him and made him realize the other side of life, the bitter side, as bitter as the afflictions of hell.
Today the street is busy and everybody is making ‘ends meet’, it is hot, noisy and the smell of a mixture of everything hits ones nose and with one last effort you sneeze your lungs out. Mr. Man was among the well dressed people to pass that street today, he was on foot and he had come on ‘official duty’ if to say.
The path is crowded and most people are on foot. Allow me to describe the street please, will you? Let’s call it street X, street X is sandwiched by a long line of buildings on each side and outside each line of buildings there is a long corridor. Mr. Man is using the long corridor on the left side of the street. Vehicles using this street are moving up while others moving down I am not a good illustrator, but at least you have an idea, Good.
In his ups and downs, he meets this person, the person recognizes him, gives him one envy look and at the top of his voice starts shouting, “look at this man, he was a beggar here, poor and useless he was, now that he thinks he is rich, he comes here to laugh at us, look at him only his clothes make him look better but inside him, he is poor, dirty, isolated…” the man rattled on and on. Mr. Man like if had a wound pricked could not hold himself, the pain he harbored in his heart now laid bare could not carry it any more, he felt his head spin and passed out…
Our past should remain in the past and no one should carry it to our present. Everyone should learn to leave the past in the past especially the painful past. When we revive the bad past of others, we torture them and they pass out, think of it if it were you, let the bad past remain in the books of history. Bad history brings no happiness to any one.