When it comes to making plans, I firmly believe in what Christopher Nolan’s Joker has said, “Do I really look like a guy with a plan? You know what I am? I'm a dog chasing cars. I wouldn't know what to do with one if I caught it! You know, I just... *do* things.” Nonetheless, I assumed that day I had a very straightforward plan to execute: find the old lady and get her help in finding my girl. A very hypothetical plan in the eye of any normal person, but in my perspective, it was an idea supported by immovable pillars of convictions. So I did what any visionary person (or a crazy person, but aren’t all visionary people crazy?) would have done. I went back to the former neighbourhood and started hunting that old lady in the streets. I passed across all the blocks, looked around every corner, and waited in front of every house. I kept on looking for her in the morning, afternoon and the evening. I followed my instincts everywhere I could, but that old lady was nowhere to be seen. I repeated the same cycle for the second day, the remaining week, and the remaining month, however I had no luck for an encounter.
The simple, straightforward plan didn’t seem to work. I started believing again that I wasn’t meant to make plans; I was meant to just do things. I had a thought, This isn’t working. I am stuck in the path of my destination. My faith is being overwhelmed, and my strength is dying. I can’t give up this search as the old lady holds the key to further information. And at the same time, I can’t rely solely on her. I have to widen my jurisdiction and think something in parallel. Multitasking and persistence can be the key to success. Having thought so, I put my strongest ally to work, and my brain came up with a brilliant idea. Based on my last month’s experience of watching people in that neighbourhood, I could narrow down my timings in looking for the lady. And the remaining time, I could utilize to look up in the different direction. The grave’s caretaker had narrated a famous story of Mr. Parkinson. There was no way that could have gone unnoticed in the history. Local newspaper would have definitely covered it. Now where can I find newspaper that old? I could find it in library. What sort of library would have those newspapers? Government libraries mostly do. I just had to find a city library in the nearby locality—wonders that a human brain can do.
The split approach to address the problems of my life took some time to work. Initially, I could neither find the right library nor the old woman showed up. But the Lord did bless my dry heart with infinite showers. I was able to find a library where I could access all the newspapers of the past thirty years. It took me a complete week to go through the required newspapers in that library. My hard work showed the true colours eventually as I was able to unravel at least one aspect of the Mr. Parkinson’s mystery. As I went through the newspapers in reverse chronological order, I was able to discover the following truths about history:
13-July-1987: The civil court had ruled in the favour of public. The public’s appeal to use the Kings Forest Park as a burial ground was accepted. Bhanu Pratap Singh, the local millionaire, was barred from building a bar over the park ground. Mr. Parkinson’s soul could finally rest in peace.
08-Jan-1987: Mass petition was filed from the public in civil court to legally use the Kings Forest Park as a burial ground. The previous land owner, Bhanu Pratap Singh, had strongly opposed the appeal stating that the land belonged to him and its use should solely be at his discretion.
14-Sep-1986: There was an outrage among the public due to the death of Mr. Parkinson. They had buried him in the park and led a protest against Bhanu Pratap Singh. They proclaimed that the park belonged to public and would always be used by the public. If the local goonda would not let its smooth operation as a park, it would better serve the people as a graveyard rather than his bar.
12-Sep-1986: Mr. Parkinson had died of internal injuries. The definite cause of his death was still unknown. People held Bhanu Pratap Singh responsible for his death, but there was no valid proof against him. It was alleged that the autopsy reports were corrupted by the influence of the local millionaire. All such allegations were based on the motives of Bhanu Pratap Singh. The land previously belonged to him, and he had been making constant plea for the license of a bar. His request, however, was always turned down as the location did not meet legal standards.
11-July-1986: There was a huge fight between Mr. Parkinson—a government worker who had made the public dream of an urban park possible in the neighbourhood, and Bhanu Pratap Singh—a rowdy businessman whose land had been taken by the government for the construction of an urban park. The fight had become ugly as his dream of a bar had been shattered because of a simple government worker. He had publicly announced that he would take revenge one day and would never let that park run smoothly.
14-Feb-1986: This was an opening day of Kings Forest Park. There was a full length article on Mr. Parkinson. He was a local hero who loved his neighbours very much. He always worked for the good of people. He derived happiness from others. He believed in a place where all the people would gather and enjoy every day. The best gift he could ever give them was an urban park. People loved and respected him a lot. He was second to God for them.
I was so lost reading the legendary story that I felt I was almost a part of it. It was hard to believe that I could be Mr. Parkinson in my previous birth. And if I were, the bigger question was, what happened to Mrs. Parkinson after I died? Will I ever be able to find her in this birth? The second aspect of my mission was still an open end. I somehow believed that the old lady could help me in solving this, but she was yet to be seen. I felt vulnerable, helpless, and lonely. There were too many ifs and buts in my belief. The impossibilities were greater than the possibilities. But did I lose hope and believe in the impossible? No, I am not made of that soil. I kept my hunt for the old lady going. I would not rest until I had found her. And believe me, good things do really happen to people who wait.
One fine evening when I was strolling through the neighbourhood, the old lady was just there where I thought she was. I had found her in the same street and in the same corner as my previous encounter of her. I was having happy thoughts as I expected the same warm welcome as before. However, her cold demeanour was quite unexplainable. On seeing me, she started dashing in the opposite direction. I had to run to get hold of her. When I walked past her, I turned around, smiled and said, “Long time no see. How are you doing?”
“Hey, mister! I don’t know who you are and what you are talking about,” she replied strangely. From her expression, I could guess that she wasn’t surprised to see me, but sure as hell, she was ignoring.
“Are you sure you don’t remember me? We had a brief encounter two months ago exactly at this location,” I said, thinking that the old age might be playing with her memory.
“I would definitely remember you if I had seen you before. Now if you will excuse me,” she replied, hurrying past me.
I caught her up again and said, “How can you be so forgetful? Last time you were so happy to see me. You had even asked how I was and had said that it has been a long time since we have seen each other.”
“Oh! Did you really believe what I had said? I say that to everyone when I am drunk,” she answered listlessly.
I have the determination to move the world, but I felt hopeless at that time because I had relied on her for my destiny. Not that anything could change, I wished that I hadn’t. Please don't do this to me. You are my only hope left. Please, please, please, don’t ruin my months of sheer hard work, I prayed while I had started to taste my defeat. I was almost crying when a quick thought popped into my head. I said, “It’s hard to believe that you were drunk. Do you often drink? You seem like a decent lady. I don’t think you do.”
“I pity your judgement, mister. I am not decent when it comes to alcohol. And, yes, I drink more often than a fish,” she mocked.
“If you really do, why waste time on this silly conversation? I know a bar nearby. We could go there right now. All rounds on me. What do you say?” That was an offer she could not afford to refuse.
A few minutes later, we were in the bar and I had bought her two fingers of Jack Daniels. She asked me in curiosity while she was drinking, “Nothing for yourself?”
“Today is not my day,” I answered casually and watched her drink in silence.
She didn’t utter a word for the next half an hour. She enjoyed rounds after rounds while I waited my prayers to be answered. It was only after the eighth peg she spoke, “I know what you want.”
“You do?”
“Yes, and I also know that you have been trying to find me for the past couple of months.”
“Were you not showing up purposefully?” I asked in anticipation.
“Yeah, I guessed that you had discovered something. I was avoiding you intentionally.”
“Wait, what? You knew that I was looking for you and still you were avoiding me? But why would you do so?”
“I have already had enough troubles in my life. I don’t want any more of them. I just want to live in peace, whatever life I have left in me.”
“I didn’t want to create any troubles for you. I was just looking for some answers. Your help would really mean a lot,” I begged.
“Don’t give me all these emotional crap,” she laughed and said, “Tell me what have you found out and what else do you seek?”
“Well! In the past ten months, I have had several visions. These visions have made me trust the strange instincts and follow the random signs. One thing has led to another, and I have somehow ended up finding out about Mr. Parkinson. I don’t know if it means anything, but coincidentally, I was born the same day Mr. Parkinson had died,” I said and paused to check if the lady was really listening.
“And?” she asked me to continue.
“And the thing is, while I could find everything about Mr. Parkinson, I could gather nothing about his wife. I was hoping you could help me in this regard.”
“Ah, I see. A woman, huh?”
“I guess so. I don’t know why, but I feel a deep connection to her. I feel she had been related to me in the past, yet I am not able to remember anything. It has been so hard to control the outflowing emotions,” I opened myself up and felt happy. I was amazed to see how sober the old lady was after drinking that much. She appeared drunk to me when she was really sober.
“And what made you think that I might help you in this regard?” she asked after some thinking.
“It has been just an instinct. I had an encounter with you initially, then the graveyard’s caretaker mentioned about you. It led me to believe that you knew this family closely.”
“Your instincts are true. I was closer to them more than you can imagine. I stayed as a helper in their house for seven years until Mrs. Parkinson died. But trust me, you wouldn’t want to know anything about her death.”
“But I really do want to know,” I insisted.
“You won’t give up, will you? See, this is not a happy story to tell. I can only tell you that she loved her husband so much that his absence took exactly two and half years to kill her,” she said and stood up to leave.
“Please don’t leave. I still have a few more questions,” I requested.
“That’s all for today, son. I would advise you to leave a few answers to the questions itself.”
“Okay, no more question. Just need your honest opinion on one thing. Do you think I am ever going to meet her in this life?”
“Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re gonna get,” she quoted from Forrest Gump and left.
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