The beginning

The beginning of this thing is not wrong, it is just the way things usually begin.
You are born not knowing.
Suppose there is one, who is born knowing.
Suppose you are the one, who was born all-knowing.
Then how would you begin?

I want to illustrate this:
You are knocking on the door to a house you have never been to before. The people inside, you do not know. You do not know how many are there, there could be too many, mind you.
You do not know what the lighting or the acoustics of the house would be like.
It could be a dimly lit place, or a bright one with many sounds.
You have absolutely no idea what you are getting into.
Outside this house is a board: Leave your footwear outside, please.

If you are coming to the house with all the tools you need, to know, you are always going to be safe.
You never need to take risks because there are none to take.
Observation is a key tool indeed.

I would not go into the house.
I would run into the outside.

All-knowing ones always run, when there is an unfamiliar approaching.  Some even run on the treadmill.

I have no shame in admitting that my contemporary is the worst so far.
The only reason I have no shame in admitting so, is because I am among this lot.
And I love deriding myself.
And this is the forum I choose to do so.

Can you not tell a story anymore?
What a pitiful bore I am.

All I ever wanted to do was to read.
And you make me write, instead.

So write about houses I will. Imagine a house. This is a test that the author puts to herself, asking herself, can you imagine a house?
I cannot imagine.

The problem with one who is all-knowing is that the person can not imagine anymore. From childhood, I was keenly aware of this problem. I lack imagination. If there were a test, an IQ test for Imagination (you replace the intelligence thing with imagination), I would fail it, gladly. Because even people with a huge deficiency in imagination have a role to play in this society.
They must be allowed to live,
In fact, if I could be bothered, I would have started a support group for all of us without an imagination.
we could meet every week, and talk about our lives that lack imagination.
But in a group, someone always ends up thinking that alcohol will make up for the lack of imagination.
Truth be told, I was part of such a support group. A few years of the group therapy and I could see myself on the way to another support group- alcoholics anonymous. And I have a major problem with that support group. So i decided to quit that technique.

But my love for alcohol is yet to die out completely, and it will be alive for as long as I am. Don't you see? If alcohol can make up for the lack of imagination, why would I need a support group?
Because I am no bloody Devadas, or one of those drunk poets that you have always romanticised and kept a special place in your heart for.
I must die sober. So what if the support group didn't suit my needs?

Come on, folks,
get up and don your gear.

We are totally fine, don't you see?
Personally, I am happy about having begun on the same planet as PB Shelley did. Not happy enough to celebrate though.