The Dreamseller_ The Calling - Augusto Cury [3]
Looking on, the officials were stunned. The police chief’s lips trembled, the psychiatrist’s eyes widened and the fire chief could only furrow his brow.
The jumper just stared and thought, “This guy’s crazier than me.”
The Introduction
TO WATCH SOMEONE ENJOY EATING A SANDWICH JUST inches from a man about to jump to his death was surreal, like something out of a movie. The would-be jumper narrowed his eyes, tightened every muscle in his face and breathed fiercely, not knowing whether to jump, scream or pummel this stranger. Panting, he yelled at the top of his lungs, “Get out of here, already! I’m going to jump.”
And he came within a hair of falling. This time, to those down below, it seemed, he really would smash into the ground. The crowd buzzed in horror and the police chief covered his eyes, not bearing to watch.
Everyone expected the stranger to pull away. He could have said, as the psychiatrist and the policeman had, “No, don’t do it! I’m leaving,” or simply offered advice like, “Life is beautiful. You can overcome your problems. You have your whole life ahead of you.” But, to everyone’s surprise, especially the man on the ledge, he hopped to his feet and began reciting a poem at the top of his lungs. He spoke toward the sky and pointed at the would-be jumper:
Let the day this man was born be struck from the record of time!
Let the dew from the grass of that morning evaporate!
Let the clear blue sky that brought joy to strollers that afternoon be withheld!
Let the night when this man was conceived be stolen by suffering!
Reclaim from that night the glowing stars that dotted the heavens!
Erase from his infancy all his smiles and his fears!
Strike from his childhood his frolicking and his adventures!
Steal from him his dreams and his nightmares, his sanity and his madness!
When he was done, the stranger let a sadness wash over him. He dropped his voice and his gaze and said softly, “one,” offering no further explanation. The crowd, amazed, wondered whether it might all be some sort of street theater. Neither did the police officer know how to react: Would it be better to interfere or wait to see where this all led? Hoping for an explanation himself, the fire chief looked at the psychiatrist, who said, confused:
“I don’t know a thing about . . . He must be just another nut.”
The jumper was stunned. The stranger’s words echoed in his mind. Trying to make sense of it, he lashed out: “Who are you to try to assassinate my past? What right do you have to destroy my childhood? What gives you the right?”
Even as he said it, the jumper thought, “Can it be that I’m the one committing this murder?” But he tried to shrug off the thought.
Catching the jumper deep in thought, the stranger provoked him further.
“Be careful. Thinking is dangerous, especially for someone who wants to die. If you want to kill yourself, don’t think.”
The man was dumbfounded; the stranger seemed to read his mind. He thought: “Is this man encouraging me to jump? Is he some kind of sadist? Does he want to see blood?” He shook his head as if to cut short his trance, but thoughts always undermine impulsive desires. Seeing the jumper’s mental confusion, the stranger spoke softly, to drive home his point.
“Don’t think. Because if you do, you’ll realize that whoever kills himself commits multiple homicides: First, he kills himself and then, slowly, he kills those left behind. If he thinks, he’ll understand that guilt, mistakes, disappointments and misfortune are the privileges of living. Death has no privileges.” The stranger’s personality shifted from confidence to sorrow. He said the word “four” and shook his head indignantly.
The jumper was paralyzed. He wanted to disregard this stranger’s ideas, but they were like a virus infecting his mind. Trying to resist the temptation to think, he instead challenged the stranger.
“And who are you to