The Special Agent called “Me”

I faced the brightest light imaginable. It was blinding and I could barely see anything clearly and in midst of all this a strange voice asked who I was.

I said it’s the Special Agent called “Me”. You know, I am the most special person I have ever known, I explained.

“Special, my foot!” came the reply.

I wanted to ask him to show me the feet. Instead I got rebuked for trying to be funny. I realized he was reading my mind and meant serious business. As if to leave no doubt, he authoritatively asked me to explain why I thought I was special.

My life flashed back in front of my eyes as I desperately tried to substantiate my claim of being special.

I have felt sad at the suffering of others at many occasions, I remembered. Sometimes I even donated some money or clothes. Alas! The money was not even a fraction of my then living expense. I am ashamed that handing down those clothes were as much important to clear my wardrobe as to help others. Better not mention this.

I am very special to my mother because I thought as I always miss her and speak to her the every other day. She only see me through her lens laminated with unconditional love. Could it be a reason to feel special? Probably not. I cannot with her for extended period of time as I live in a different country thousands of miles away. I would rather keep my mouth shut, I decided.

I do feel special for the efficiency with which I accomplish my task at the workplace. However the fact of the matter is that it won't take very long to find a replacement once I am gone. This probably doesn’t make me any special either.

I am very special to my child as I consciously try to do all the right things all the time. She believes her dad knows everything and I reassure her at every step. I am worried that sometimes I ignore her mistakes carried away by the paternal affection. This probably is not too fair.

Having pushed to my wit’s end, I contemplated if I was special to my siblings as we have grew together and understand each other more than anyone else. Maybe to those close friends with whom we can laugh at ourselves or nothing at all like imbeciles.

Did I do something particularly special good to the nature my last resort. Perhaps not! I drive to work alone rather than sharing a ride leaving a large carbon footprint. Moreover, I haven’t planted a single sapling over the past decades or even longer. I helped others to get some done, that doesn’t give me any brownie points either.

 “Enough of this nonsense. Stop it here!” The voice commanded and warned me not to even consider those sharing of the touchy stories on my wall and some “likes” on my Facebook philosophies.

“I want to be a special person. The humane philanthropist who is benevolent and big-heart star to the odd unknown person in distress. Show me the way,” I pleaded.

“Now you know what you got to do. Move along but remember to meditate, think and have patience. You are already unique and shall be a special person soon.” The light gradually transformed into the most wonderful sunrise I have ever witnessed.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

P.S. I am special to my spouse in a special way and have no wish to disturb this balance. This is the only reason special reason why any reference is missing above.


  1. That was very deep and really makes you think of the things we do for our inflated egos and eventually are "just another brick on the wall".

    The Post Script is noted with care ;)


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