“Another 30 minutes now, and I’ll go off to sleep. I cannot afford to miss class tomorrow. This week is supposed to be the reformation week.”, Lekhchand told himself, while looking at random things on his Tumblr dashboard. There were a couple of typograhy posters, a few photographs, funny subtitled screenshots of films, and various kinds of advice to writers. (All of them tolerable. Since, Lekhchand didn’t really follow stuff that pissed him off.)
But, amongst all this, what really caught Lekhchand’s eye was this quote:
An intellectual? Yes. And never deny it. An intellectual is someone whose mind watches itself. I like this, because I am happy to be both halves, the watcher and the watched. “Can they be brought together?” This is a practical question. We must get down to it. “I despise intelligence” really means: “I cannot bear my doubts.”
Once again in his life, Lekhchand was intoxicated by how beautifully the quote validated his existence for the time being. Almost impulsively, he highlighted the author and right clicked in order to get the “Google Albert Camus” option. A Wikipidea page could never be too far away from that.
First thing to strike Lekhchand was that he was French. “A beautiful country, in appearance and in art.”, he thought.
The next thing he noticed, was that he had won a Nobel Prize for literature. “Well done, my boy. In a sea of second rate art, you managed to pluck out a Nobel Laureate. Impressive.”, he thought, letting out a smirk.
The next thing he observed closely, was the portrait. But, what struck him with maximum force though, was what lay below the portrait. Albert Camus’ birthdate was the same as Lekhchand’s.
“What a coincidence. This can’t be anything, but a genuine coincidence.”,
Lekhchand thought, making a mental note to buy his novels, next time he has cash to spend for a book. This is bound to be a find.