Page 147 - Musings 2021

after him, but he did not want to be pitied. He liked to be challenged; he had always liked to
be challenged. Then, almost as if by chance, an opportunity came along.

Science had come a long way since the young Rustom had seen the telephone for the first
time at the old man’s bungalow — he stood in awe, as the old man used the telephone to talk
to people. Back then he could not believe it — now it had become obsolete. ‘Wormhole
testing now open for daring individuals’, read the headline. As soon as he heard this, Rustom
sent all his staff on a paid vacation. The bungalow now empty, he headed, in a taxi cab, to the
regional centre of the high energy particle collider in Delhi— the largest ever built by
humanity — a ring spanning almost all of the Asian continent.

Rustom had read a lot of books in his life — including popular science — and even though
he had no formal training in physics, he knew what a wormhole meant, and the ramifications
of going through it. It was dangerous, but oddly enough, his heart thumped, blood rushed
through his veins, for he had found his purpose. Rustom expressed his wish to take part in
this experiment — he could see nothing, yet feel everything. He was warned of potential
side-effects and all the physics-y stuff, but he cared for nothing.

“The sub-atomic particles collide at such high speeds that for a split second it opens up new
dimensions — both in space and in time — and it can take you anywhere you wish to go. But
there are prob…”

“I don’t care!” said Rustom, interrupting the physicist. He did not care for the specifics.

“But sir, you may not survive it, and you may not come back. And you cannot see...” The
physicist was genuinely concerned. “I said I don’t care! Take as much money as you want. I
don’t care!”

Rustom wouldn’t take any pity.

Rustom walked through what seemed to be a large version of the marble — of course he
couldn’t see it. Then he fell through — dimensions — his memories, scenes from his life, his
mother, his family, all the songs he had heard, movies, music, smells, tastes, feelings —

everything and everyone he knew or had ever known — seemed to shuffle around as if it
were a deck of cards — cards of his memories.

He could see things for the first time in years — and then it was dark again. He felt
weightless in the inter-dimensional void. Then he passed out.

When he woke up, luckily he found himself intact. He heard someone passing by, and he
asked the passer-by the date.

“It is the 26th of June, sir.”

“Which year?”

The passer-by looked confused — both by the question and by the old man’s appearance.

“1995.”

“Where am I?”

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