The Motor

Writing after a really long time, just to get the writing going again. A really short write-up. Hope you like it!

He stopped along the path to his home. He was tired. Tired of the same
routine, tired of getting up everyday to go to the same boring desk
job, and coming back to a large, cold home. His professional life was
not exciting, and his personal life was all but boring. He felt like
he was done, that the motor inside him had stopped.

He put down his shoulder bag, and lay down on the grass next to the
path. It was twilight, and there was a glorious sunset just waiting to
be seen, but he couldn’t even get up the energy to enjoy it. He lay
there, and he looked at the peaceful sky, and the passing clouds.

The sound of her laugh made him look up.

A girl had dropped down on the grass not too far from him. She was on
the phone, telling someone all about her day. Even from within his
gloom, he noted her vivaciousness, her vitality. She laughed for every
sentence, and everything about the way she talked — her wide arm
gestures, the sparkle in her eyes (which he noticed while she was
looking at the sunset), the life in her voice modulation, screamed out
how much she was enjoying life.

He observed her silently. Just being near her was like getting RedBull
pumped directly into your arteries. Some people cheer you up just with
their presence. He felt like her motor was getting kick-started. His
brain, always looking for analogies and connections, brought back a
memory he had with a friend long ago:

It was a cold, dark night. We were walking down the road to my apartment. I still remember how the street lamps looked so beautiful in the night, with their bright yellow set against the black of the night. 

“Rama is such an idiot. If I wasn’t there, God knows what would have

“Heh, it looks like Rama really can’t do without you.”

“In a sense. Rama can’t do without me, but the world can’t do without
people like Rama”

“What do you mean?”

“OK, this is going to sound trippy, but I believe you can divide all
the people in the world into three kinds. The first kind is people
like Rama: the positives, the motors of the world. They brighten up a
room just by being in it. They inspire people. They get things

“And the other two kinds?”

“The second kind is neutral people. People who won’t start anything,
but are happy to lend a hand. People who don’t affect a room
positively or negatively. And then there are people like me. The
negatives. The cynics. The people who try to stop stuff happening.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“Meh, I know myself. Anyway, if you took out all the positives in the
world, people will get increasingly more and more depressed. Nothing
new will ever get started, people will stop being happy. Its not that
they will be sad, but they will be neutral, and neutral tends to
depression and sadness more naturally than towards happiness.”

“That sounds gloomy.”

“It does! That is why we need people like Rama. And its my job to
protect people like that — people like Rama cannot conceive how low
other humans can get, while it is all that people like me can see.”

“Heh, I bet it helps that you love him.”

I remember her blushing.

“Yes, I suppose that helps too.”

The memory of the conversation brought a smile to my face again. I
glanced again at the positive, the girl who was one of the motors of
the world. I stood up and walked back home, my own motor restarted.



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