Weather is hot and sunny. Here I am sitting under this dull lifeless tree, lifting my head up to see the leafless branches. Hot sun shines straight into my eyes. I bend down my head as I cannot bear its brilliant light. So many things have evolved in a matter of time. I am here to get away from everyone, far away from this techno world, just so I could listen to my thoughts without being interrupted and feel human again. Sweat dripping down my forehead. I stretch my legs and lean my back against that tree. I took my laptop and plugged in my pen drive which has my study materials. I am tired. I am hungry. I unwrap my lunch and take a bite. I stare at the laptop screen and then start typing my words. Eventually, I am drowned into my own mutely screaming mind.
That day.. when I witnessed the beginning of an end... haunts me forever.
‘Help.... Helll-.......’ A man, who was screaming with his lungs and running head over heels, got his head plucked from his body before even his words were complete. His voice disappeared in the air and his headless body stayed there motionless on the ground. And I, in the midst of a frozen crowd, stared in disbelief at that metallic giant sized Robot.
We, the supposedly clever humans created super-brained robots to help assist us in controlling the world but at the end of the day these robots turned maniacal and over-powered us. They have taken over the world, yes, but they too had their worst fear for this ONE thing, which could shut them off if they ever exist. Because the algorithms with the basic commands and instructions on how to control and shut down their race were registered on it.
‘Shred all the Paper monsters into bits and pieces and throw away from our world’, the master exclaimed.
Revolution began. Libraries were set on fire. Bookstores were raided. Bonfires made of papers. World filled with commotion and chaos. Not even a single-ruled exercise book, a bible or a fictional novel was left behind to say its name. Now the idea of paper or a book seems so alien, so unknown.
‘Ban the Writing.. Scan the Typing....’ became their loud motto.
Time has flashed past us like a shooting star, and I am still here lost in space, with no clue why I ever exist. To survive in this gray earth, I need to gain knowledge to ignite my dying hope and courage. But I realized studying seemed pointless as much our living. Listening to these automated, metal-coated professors does not feel genuine enough. Oh, how much I crave to hold a pen and write instead of this typing. I once even dreamt of becoming a writer but even the term 'write' becomes so ancient nowadays.
They say there was this one notebook hidden away from the robots, kept in a metal box and buried under a pine tree which would be the key to open the door to our long gone world. They call it the Mother of all books, the only notebook that ever survived the heart wrenching carnage. But this story became folklore. Like Dinosaurs and Dodos, Notebooks have gone extinct.There were days, when I run for hours into the woods, hoping I would stumble upon that book. I have been fantasizing for too long. Reminiscing this makes me laugh. So many dreams I would chase after like fireflies and butterflies. Now they all seem so bizarre. I could not think anymore. I am living a life of a robot, but covered in human flesh and blood. Sigh..!
Before the satellite spots me and the security robots hunt me down, I should get back home. It is getting dark. I get up from soft turf of land, brushing off the sand stuck my pants and the sticky moss that has plastered itself on the backside of my jacket from leaning against the tree. I hate it when that happens. This means I need to go back home and do my laundry. Robots should have been invented to do my laundry instead. I grabbed my bag and looked my muddy shoes. I bend down to tie my lace...
And wait. Just wait. Does this look like a pine tree? 'Err. No, it cannot be. You’re being delusional. This is what happens when you muse too much. It is not. Stop kidding yourself.' My screaming mind argues with me. 'Think of all the pine trees that have fooled you. What you need to do is get your eyes checked, and maybe your brains too.' But wait. What if it is.. It is a myth. It is an old folklore that people say to amuse each other. But it would not hurt to find out, would it?I straightened my back and looked around. Not a soul in sight. I slowly dug the soft sand with my bare hands. I kept digging and digging till my hands turned dark brown. The undersides of my nails were black and filthy.
‘See, did I not tell you? Keep fooling yourself with your hallucinations’, my mind snapped me again.
But then it happened. My hands hit something hard. My heart was pounding. My head started screaming excitedly. My legs started to shake. And I half managed to pull out something that was so rusty and surfaced with worms. I pushed away those wriggling worms and tried to open the box. It was stuck. It felt like eons had passed as I opened and there it fell out, onto my lap. Dark blue in color, leather bound something that would have passed off as a notebook back then. I got goosebumps as I touched it. The magic, I felt. I removed the thick dust on the cover. MATRIKAS.. I read out loud. As my lips moved, I felt some powerful energy passing through me. Is this it? I wondered as I turned the pages. Foreign language of handwritten letters swam in front of my eyes along with few empty pages. The language looked like Chinese to me.. after all in the back of my head, I remembered Chinese invented the Paper. A look-a-like pen coated with dust fell on my lap from in between the pages.
I looked it for a moment. Does this hold the answers that will take us back in time.. back to where we once belonged? Could this be it? I threw back my head and chuckled. I looked at the dusky sky. Clouds were turning gray. I stood up and started walking back home with my eyes full of hope. I smiled as the first droplet of rain touched my cheek.
I jerkily open my eyes, only to see my laptop lying next to me. The half bitten burger is still in my hands, and the saliva drooling from the corner of my mouth. I quickly wipe it off and rub my eyes. I am lying under the pine tree with lush greenery and a beautiful lake view. I noticed my nails. Why are they black and filthy as if I have played with the mud? Was it a dream or what I just saw was real? Did I just return from the future? For a moment I am confused.I straighten myself and take my bag. Surprisingly, a book fall out of it. On the impressive cover page, it read MATRIKAS.
The name sounds so familiar. I open it and caress its smooth soft white paper. Neatly ruled and perfectly bound papers brings me back to life, the moment I touch it. The sparks flying inside me as I opened the first page. This Book belongs to .....My stomach twitches as I realized not even one word I have written on it. I feel a cold shiver inside. I immediately take my pen out of my jacket and steadily I write... MEERA, my name on it.
Like an intimate kissOf a bride and groom,My pen kisses the paper...!The notebook thrive me to scribble my heart away. My ‘technormal’ lifestyle needs a life too. Now this is my book. The writer inside is determined to create a magical world in the traditional way, with my pen and the paper. My screaming mind mutely reminds me, 'After all you have a long story to write...'. I smiled to myself and penned the title of my story, 'Dinosaurs, Dodos and Notebooks...'
The rain now starts to pour down with a soft plop. I quickly stuff my notebook and the laptop inside the bag and walks back home briskly, which seems like the longest walk of my life...
I received a package from MatrikaS with few amazing set of notebooks. I was totally pleased to see their creative cover pages and the quality of the product. On Eid day, I gifted couple of notebooks to my cousin who has entered the university this year and she was overwhelmed with joy by looking at the colors and cute doodles and called me, 'Santa'. Their notebooks buzzed me like a wake up call as it has been a while I actually wrote on one. Inspired, I feel the urge to pen down my thoughts and also to create stories with ink, of characters and worlds that would take you far, far away. And I share this story as a part of their ‘Scribble your heart away’ campaign.
Thank you, MatrikaS..! (which means Mother in Sanskrit, denoting powerful energy.)I bet you don't want to miss their interesting range of notebooks, diaries and journals. For more details of the products click MatrikaS and also visit their FB page.
