Understanding the human mind is a labyrinthine task, but emotions? They’re an enigma within the labyrinth. We claim to know what love is, but do we?

For Krishna, love was just another concept. He had spent most of his life in solitude, seeking solace in books and the quiet corners of libraries. He was an introvert by choice, not necessity, a man who had learned early that people—friends, family, anyone—were just distractions from the peace he craved.

Growing up, Krishna wasn’t always like this. In school, he had friends, though they were outnumbered by bullies who picked on him for being overweight and awkward. Those experiences taught him the harsh reality of human interactions. By the time he left school, he had mastered the art of disappearing into the shadows.

His days followed a strict, predictable routine. Mornings were for music classes—his one indulgence for the soul. Afternoons were for coaching centers, because in India, one is either an engineer or a doctor. Evenings belonged to the library, his haven. And nights? Nights were spent in quiet defiance of his family’s expectations, walking aimlessly to avoid going home.

Books were his refuge, his companions in a world that felt too loud and chaotic. His love for biology stemmed from a book on genetics he’d stumbled upon years ago. It had sparked a fascination with the intricate tapestry of DNA, a love that was purer and more enduring than any human connection he’d ever known. The concept of genes thrilled him only, not the genes responsible for human existence.

When You sit in the park, book in hand but eyes unfocused, his mind often drifted to the peculiarities of human nature. With his ears closed to the surrounding chatter, he observed the randomness of people—their movements, their expressions, their interactions. It amazed him how much diversity existed within one species, almost as if each individual was a taxon unto themselves.

What made humans so unique from the rest of the animal kingdom, he wondered, was self-consciousness. The ability to acknowledge one’s hormonal chaos and name it "emotions" seemed both a gift and a burden. Chemicals exploding, merging, dissipating, forming bonds—those bonds had fueled a population so vast that humans now held the power to decide which species would survive and which would vanish.

A—--- “what are you looking at?” A question asked by this girl breaking his train of thought startled him “who are you?” “You were gazing at me like you would penetrate me with Superman's laser beam.”

“When, how? you just jumped right in front of me now and only that has made me aware of your existence, when was I looking at you?”

“So what were you looking at?”

“Everything! I am sitting in a park, I certainly am not blind but that doesn't mean I was gazing at you particularly, so self centered my god!”

“okay! No need to be snarky.”

“ You came charging at me! how am I being snarky?”

“okay fine!” she turned away and started walking.

“uh…. Hellooo! Don't you owe an apology to me?” she turned around and said,

“not after that attitude.”

“Oh great!” he put down the book which he was holding open in his hand, stood up and walked towards the exit “let's go to park and read, fresh air, well what about assholes walking around this box of a city” he was mumbling to himself frustrated about the interaction.

Entering his place of solace, the library cubicle, he put down his bag, pulled out his book, and continued reading. “Is that dostoevsky's white night?” a girl in the side cubicle asked, “Yes!” he replied

“So how you like it, I was looking for it yesterday but someone borrowed the last one from the library”

“oh okay, not that great actually, I mean I had read the reviews that he is a great writer and this is the only book available in this library, so I thought why not. By the way this is not the last copy of the book, this is the only available copy of the book”

“oh okay” she replied “I am almost finished, I'll just submit this and you can borrow it later then” he said to her,

“well that would be an issue”

“why?”

“I already borrowed 5 books this week and as you know they won't let me borrow unless I return all of them first.”

“Oh! Well you can borrow it later then” he said,

“can you hold onto it till then, maybe because I don't want to wait again for it.” She requested

“It's already been a month since I borrowed it, one more month and I will have to pay a fine for it.”

“You don't have to keep it for a month, just one more week, please!” She said,

“You'll be done with 5 books in a week?” He asked with amazement

“Yeah, not that hard for a bookworm like me.” “What are they, short stories?” he asked mockingly

“Well one is 1984 by George Orwell, one is Darwin's Evolution, Astrophysics for people in hurry by Neil Degrass tyson, Sapiens by Yuval Noah Harari, Brief history of time by Stephen Hawking.” She counted on her fingers,

His jaw dropped. “If you finished all those books this week I'll buy this book for you or any book of your choice”

“How will you know whether I did finish them or not?” She asked

“A bookworm can tell” he said,

“Well then challenge accepted.” She said extending her hand dramatically “too dramatic!” He said, squinting his eyes and shaking her hand.

He got a call from his parents and stepped outside to pick it up “hello!” he said “will you be coming home for lunch?” His mother asked on the phone, “I am not feeling hungry, I'll eat something here.” He said “don't be late in the evening?” His mother said and hung up the call.

She was not pleased with his routine lately, he would miss lunch very often and no Indian mother likes her boy to stay in the same city and out of the house all the time. It was 4 o'clock in the afternoon, a slight yellow sky with clouds and dust of the road flew around with warm air. Mentioning lunch had made him a bit hungry, so he went across the road to a fast food vendor.

The vendor was a man in his mid 30s, very friendly which would attract quite a crowd, the shop had an outside stall for Aloo Tikki and Golgappe, entering the store through the glass door, on left side of the door there was the cash counter and just beside the cash counter was a fridge containing drinks of all types, opposite to the cash counter close to the right wall was a man preparing tea at all time on his blue table that came to his waist, on which he had a small gas cylinder and a stove of two burners, on one burner there would be milk boiling and on the other a pot containing tea.

The hot steam of the tea would stick to the glass making it blurry, a sitting area inside the store with two big tables close to the wall and two benches on both sides.

Krish used to sit inside but nowadays since he smokes, he would just get a cup of tea and come out standing under the shade of a large Neem tree. After finishing his tea he went back to the library. The exchange earlier with the girl had left him unexpectedly amused. It wasn’t often that people managed to hold his attention, let alone intrigue him, but there was something refreshingly unfiltered about her. Her cubicle was empty when he came in, she had left.

It was 9 o'clock in the evening, he didn't see the watch and now he would be late to reach home for dinner. His library was nearly 3 km away from his home and he would walk there. He had a bike for his use but he was not that fond of riding or anything that would rush him back home.

He packed his stuff in his bag and left for home, it was quiet and the road was dark with orange patches of light from the road lights on both sides of the road, few trees here and there and just after few hundred meters the main crossroad with a lot of noise and people wandering about started, sipping teas on the Thela or having a snack on the fast food carts, as scary as the night is always explained to kids, people always seem at much ease in the blankness of night then the colored basket of day.

He kept on walking with a relaxed pace, observing around him as all of it always intrigued him, the clumps of people on sides of roads, at booths, eating, laughing and simply living. ‘I would get the yelling of my life today’ he thought,

when he entered the main door just then a voice came from inside “ Aa gaye doctor sahab” and he knew what was about to come, he replied smiling a bit to neutralize the situation “han wo thoda samay nahi dekha”

“time nahi dekha par andhera to dekha hoga, ab jaa ke chup chap baith jao roti sikane me time lagega”

“theek hai” and he washed his hands and sat on the table.

This was his most days, a repetition of places, voices and silence, but he had peace in it which he still craved more. Lying in his bed sleepless, looking at the walls, he always wondered what he would do if he got a job and started earning, he found no use for wealth other than buying books and maybe making a bunker in the mountains where he could spend his summers.

In all honesty, he was gloomy, purposeless, and desireless like he was a saint with no wish to be a saint; he found pain wherever he looked. Smiling faces never grasped his attention for a second, but he could look at the “miserables” for hours. Solace is a weird thing; every other person has his definition of it, has h

is methods, but he hadn’t found one because maybe he didn’t need it.