“I for one believe that of all the infirmities of man, miserliness is the most debilitating,” I said. “Why, don’t we have the true life story of the miserly millionaire woman that made it to the Guinness Book of World Records? You might know that she was in search of a public hospital that too in the U.S to cure her son’s aliment in a leg, which sadly for him, led to the amputation of his limb. Oh, what would have been his feelings when in the end; her millions fell into half-a-lap of his? That’s why I find the regulations of the state like banning smoking for the so-called public good so meaningless.”
“The prohibition and other such symbolize the personal proclivities or much worse the political agendas of the powers that be and no more,” he said. “Coming back to my miserly grandfather, he bestowed all his affection upon me and used to maintain that he would bequeath that landholding to me and not to my father. While my father’s prudent spending was an anathema to him, I didn’t show any inclination to spend a farthing then. I was just a kid anyway, and I found nothing around that induced want in me. But as I grew up, I had realized that there was sex for sale but by then my grandfather was dead and gone. Even then, an inexplicable sentiment delayed my tryst with the sex workers for that long; what layers within the layers and circles within the circles that make life, so seemingly seamless from birth to death? Won’t that make life intriguing to live, engaging to observe and exciting to recall? Looks like I won’t be able to make it linear for you.”
“I think it is as it should be for life tends to stray laterally on its linear course.”
“Well you seem to have a way with words,” he said sounding appreciative, “and that would come in handy in your endeavor to be a writer”