A gentleman of thirty saw himself getting inside a huge hall. He walked and walked to find something meaningful within the hall. His eyes went to a huge shelf of books in front of him. Made of four racks, there were about a hundred books in total. He gazed over the books to find something interesting to read. He checked the second rack from the top and went through the titles.
He found a book called ‘The Girls I liked’. He opened the book in haste and kept strolling through the pages. He found the faces familiar. He found the girls familiar. They were the girls he had liked in his own life. He closed the book in shock and moved to the other books in that rack. ‘The Friends I made’ brought back lost memories. The special moments with friends, he had forgotten in the course of life, all carved their way back in his mind. He was amazed to see the slightest of details mentioned in the book. The exact feeling and camaraderie he shared with the person was specified. He went through almost every book in that rack and felt a sense of nostalgia after rediscovering all the sentiments. Every book was his. These were the pages he had experienced in his life but didn’t recollect penning them down.
He moved to the third rack. The thickest book in that shelf was titled ‘The People I hurt’. The thickness made his stomach wobble. He opened the book and, in the initial pages, saw the smiling faces of his parents. He read through the paragraphs each representing an incident where his parents were hurt because of him; the times when he said something unpleasant to them, the occasions he had let them down and the situations when he acted selfish and didn’t think about them. He went ahead to see the faces of his friends. Every line compelled him to remember the friends he had betrayed, the trusts he had broken, the fights he had fought and the tears he had caused. He saw his fiancé later. Every sentence forced him to recollect the times he joked about her in public, the moments he left her alone to sulk and days when he wasn’t present for her. He slammed the book shut and threw it back. A book fell down from the same rack. ‘The Times I lied’ was the title. It was as thick as the previous book. He opened a random page in between. The top mentioned the date of incident. The extract showcased an incident when he was fifteen and he had lied to his father that the reason for his late arrival was project whereas the actual reason was alcohol. He scanned through the book feeling a new sense of shame. He wondered who was behind this. Had anyone gone through this? Who had written this?
He checked into the last rack, hoping to find something which would make him feel good. He held the first book in that rack. ‘The Bad Thoughts I had’. He opened the book and started reading the extracts randomly. His jaw went loose in shock and horror. This book had it all; the unspoken selfish motive he had for helping many of his friends, the lustful fantasies he got scanning young females and all the those nasty thoughts that came in his mind even for a flash of a second. All recorded. He looked around him, petrified, to check if someone was present. Various thoughts started circulating around his head. He bent over to collect another book named ‘My Dark Activities’. Frantically, he juggled through the pages and read whatever his eyes showed. The book reported everything; the various times he stole money from his parents, the cheating he did during exams, improperly framing a friend in a crime, betraying his fiancé for another girl and passing tenders at work depending upon the money that was stashed in his pants.
His legs suddenly felt weak obliging his body to gravity. Tears started coming down his cheeks. A feeling of remorse gripped him. He was badly caught in his acts. He wondered if he was dead and this was Doom’s day for him. His head accelerated with unclear thoughts. Is this a nightmare? Why am I here? What am I doing here? Who’s behind this?
Suddenly a door opened allowing him to see a figure. The figure proceeded towards him. It reached to sit in front of him.
“Who are you?” The gentleman asked.
“You are the one who called me.” The figure answered.
“So you are behind this! What is this supposed to mean?”
“I was entrusted this duty.”
“Why? I don’t seem to like it.”
“You don’t seem to like it because you are caught now. You don’t seem to like it because you know you would be punished for it. You feel guilty now!”
“Yes, I am guilty.” The gentleman cries. “And this guilt makes me hate me!”
“Well, this was not organized to make you hate yourself.”
“You wrote all this! Anyone who reads this would hate me!”
“I don’t hate you!” And the figure reached to wipe the tears in the gentleman’s face. “And, besides, this book is not for the others to read.”
There was silence for some minutes.
“Have you gone through the first rack?” And the figure pulled him to his feet.
The first rack had many books. The figure picked up one and held it out to the gentleman. The book was ‘From my Parents’. The paragraphs inside seemed to be like letters from his parents in heaven. Every page mentioned an incident where he made them proud; the distinctions he got as a student, the gifts and cards he gave them on special days, the times he took care of them when they were ill and all the other duties he fulfilled as their son. He reached to read another book called ‘From my Friends’. Every page seemed like a scrap book meant for him. His friends had thanked him for a variety of things. One thanked him for comforting him when he was going through failure. The other thanked him for the financial help in his time of need. One thanked him for his help in studies. While one thanked him for his help in making his love story. This book made him smile. He moved ahead to read ‘The Good Thoughts I had’. He scanned through the book to find the thoughts he had for the minutest time, the feeling of true friendship and true love he had for so many people in his life. Suddenly, he felt strong. He reached to collect the last book in the rack-‘My Good Activities’. He turned pages after pages and felt something nice. The extracts mentioned about everything; the lift he gave to an unknown man in trouble, the bags he held for an old woman, the toll he paid for a person who forgot his wallet and the articles he bought from the little poor girl at the traffic signal. He felt a sense of pride.
“Are you satisfied now? I told you earlier that I don’t hate you!” The figure said.
“What is this supposed to mean? These books?” The gentleman asked.
The figure took a deep breath and then answered.
“I am the angel that God entrusted to you. My duties are to be with you every moment, listen to your every word, jot down your every activity and above all, stay with you every second.” Pause. “Feel your every feeling, hear your every prayer and do everything that would help you in the long run.”
“Is this a joke?”
“Why do you think so?”
“Because all this seems so unreal! This angel, these duties, these books, all can’t be true!”
“But it is!” The figure stressed.
“If this is real, why am I here now?” The gentleman quizzed.
“Because this was meant to be. God wished for this to happen to you.” The figure answered.
“I can’t seem to understand anything. Could you please elaborate? This angel, this God, I can’t understand!”
“Child, there is God. God is the reason why you and I are here. He is the reason why you and I have met. Don’t disbelieve his existence. Trust him. He made me for you. So that you would never be alone, so that you always feel strong, so that you always keep on walking to reach the destination, He wants you to. It’s his voice you hear when you don’t know what to do. It’s his comfort you feel after every fall. He shows the path when your confused. He wipes every tear off your cheek. He gave every human being an angel. So that everyone feels His presence in their life. He loves you in spite of every book in the last rack. At least love him in return!”
“Am I dead? Why did God wish this to happen?”
“You’re not dead! This is a special screening for you!”
“Why?”
“Let’s say this is your good luck!” And the figure stopped talking.
“That doesn’t answer my question!”
The figure started leaving. The gentleman walked behind him.
“If you are my angel, answer me!” The gentleman asked.
The figure said, “No one is perfect. But still, in the walk of life, we all do something we shouldn’t, thinking that we won’t get caught, thinking that no one sees. We say we live without regrets but after reading the books in the last rack, would you say the same?” Pause. “Life is one, my Child, live it to the fullest! And keep your hand over your heart and truly try living without regrets!”
