Trying out on the short story again (highly inspired from the The Bet by Anton Chekhov)
Three young men, all brilliant in their respective fields, all at the peak of their youth gathered at the house of the eldest of them, the philosophers place. The other two being the poet and the chemist.
Once they had discussed the daily affairs of the life, the philosopher posed them a question.
"How long do you think my friends a man would stay alive, if there was a pellet of poison tied to the wrist of each man, which he could consume and end his life without any discomfort and pain, if he is not able to bear the burdens of life, if he is finding it too heavy to shoulder the life's struggle and strife?"
Interesting question dear friend, exclaimed both the poet and the chemist.
Then started the chemist, that it would be a real nice experiment. In my experience though the life is hard and the circumstances and situations sometimes overburdening and out of control, yet I think no one wants to die. But it is a one thing to pose it as a mere theoretical question and make conclusions. I suspect the results would be altogether different if someone were to get ready to actually do this. I think anyone under trial would actually throw off the pellet after few days resulting in no conclusion. It would be a great deal even if someone could keep it for one year and go through all the ups and lows.
Inetersting catch said the philosopher, so there has to be some kind of conditions under which the subject would not throw off the pellet and would actually go through the experiment fairly. And if I have already got it right you are not interested in being part of the experiment said he to the chemist.
You have got it right, confirmed the chemist.
Turning towards the poet he said what do you say my friend? what does your poetic thought says? what lies in the depth of the human soul? Is the man just fending himself from the everlasting hawk of death in his soul? or is there some nectar of life brimming in his soul keeping him alive under all circumstances?
There is no hawk of death in the human soul eating it and pushing it toward the death, it is mostly nectar of live, said the poet, a young and promising voice in the new thought movement.
Ah, so rubbish and so idealistic exclaimed the philosopher. Just a typical poetic stance on the one of the most complex state of the affairs called life. And noded his head in agreement the chemist too.
Feeling challenged the poet threw his hat into the ring and said I will keep the pellet tied to my wrist for five years and would show you guys that life is not to be given up under any circumstances and one can pass the trials of life.
Equally shocked both the chemist and philosopher. They tried to persuade him to back off and call off the day, but he was reluctant and hell bent on doing it.
To make it easy for you said the philosopher I will pay you a thousand dollar per month as a reward and help you. And the chemist agreed to bring the pellet the next day a solid pure crystal of Iso Cynaide.
The very next day the chemist handed over the Iso Cynaide pellet to the poet and he tied it to his wrist.
Like all the years it has been the three kept on meeting. Talking about the daily affairs and then a brief by the poet on how he has overcome whatever has come his way.
Two years have passed and the chemist and the philosopher were quite amused and seemed quite convinced that their friend would pass the test of life with flying colurs. Meanwhile the poet has gone through many lows but not to show his weakness and keep his head high never discussed any of his troubles with this friends.
Then one day the chemist and the philosopher received a call from the city hospital that their friend has consumed some substance and is lying unconsciousness. The philosopher was sweating from head to toe as he knew he was the one who has pushed his friend into the jaws of death. Repenting and feeling remorseful he took along with the chemist to check upon his friend.
To his surprise his poet friend woke up after sometime and he felt quite relived. Turning to them the chemist said laughingly I knew there is a high probability of it ending like this, so I have given him a pellet of anaesthesia instead of Iso Cynaide so that there is a little shock to both of you, so that you never persuade someone to do something like this and he never looses his mind to try out something like this.
Three young men, all brilliant in their respective fields, all at the peak of their youth gathered at the house of the eldest of them, the philosophers place. The other two being the poet and the chemist.
Once they had discussed the daily affairs of the life, the philosopher posed them a question.
"How long do you think my friends a man would stay alive, if there was a pellet of poison tied to the wrist of each man, which he could consume and end his life without any discomfort and pain, if he is not able to bear the burdens of life, if he is finding it too heavy to shoulder the life's struggle and strife?"
Interesting question dear friend, exclaimed both the poet and the chemist.
Then started the chemist, that it would be a real nice experiment. In my experience though the life is hard and the circumstances and situations sometimes overburdening and out of control, yet I think no one wants to die. But it is a one thing to pose it as a mere theoretical question and make conclusions. I suspect the results would be altogether different if someone were to get ready to actually do this. I think anyone under trial would actually throw off the pellet after few days resulting in no conclusion. It would be a great deal even if someone could keep it for one year and go through all the ups and lows.
Inetersting catch said the philosopher, so there has to be some kind of conditions under which the subject would not throw off the pellet and would actually go through the experiment fairly. And if I have already got it right you are not interested in being part of the experiment said he to the chemist.
You have got it right, confirmed the chemist.
Turning towards the poet he said what do you say my friend? what does your poetic thought says? what lies in the depth of the human soul? Is the man just fending himself from the everlasting hawk of death in his soul? or is there some nectar of life brimming in his soul keeping him alive under all circumstances?
There is no hawk of death in the human soul eating it and pushing it toward the death, it is mostly nectar of live, said the poet, a young and promising voice in the new thought movement.
Ah, so rubbish and so idealistic exclaimed the philosopher. Just a typical poetic stance on the one of the most complex state of the affairs called life. And noded his head in agreement the chemist too.
Feeling challenged the poet threw his hat into the ring and said I will keep the pellet tied to my wrist for five years and would show you guys that life is not to be given up under any circumstances and one can pass the trials of life.
Equally shocked both the chemist and philosopher. They tried to persuade him to back off and call off the day, but he was reluctant and hell bent on doing it.
To make it easy for you said the philosopher I will pay you a thousand dollar per month as a reward and help you. And the chemist agreed to bring the pellet the next day a solid pure crystal of Iso Cynaide.
The very next day the chemist handed over the Iso Cynaide pellet to the poet and he tied it to his wrist.
Like all the years it has been the three kept on meeting. Talking about the daily affairs and then a brief by the poet on how he has overcome whatever has come his way.
Two years have passed and the chemist and the philosopher were quite amused and seemed quite convinced that their friend would pass the test of life with flying colurs. Meanwhile the poet has gone through many lows but not to show his weakness and keep his head high never discussed any of his troubles with this friends.
Then one day the chemist and the philosopher received a call from the city hospital that their friend has consumed some substance and is lying unconsciousness. The philosopher was sweating from head to toe as he knew he was the one who has pushed his friend into the jaws of death. Repenting and feeling remorseful he took along with the chemist to check upon his friend.
To his surprise his poet friend woke up after sometime and he felt quite relived. Turning to them the chemist said laughingly I knew there is a high probability of it ending like this, so I have given him a pellet of anaesthesia instead of Iso Cynaide so that there is a little shock to both of you, so that you never persuade someone to do something like this and he never looses his mind to try out something like this.
