Op Cit

“Look son”, began the strange man.

“I finally figured it all out. Who I am, that is. It is strange really, but it all begins from the fact that I have a wake-cycle of twenty four hours, as opposed to the human standard of sixteen hours. That makes my sleep cycle twelve hours long. What that means is, that a regular day in my life is actually one-and-a-half man days long. This explains far more than is apparent. It explains how at the numeric age of thirty, I have the body of a twenty year old. You see, my body thinks it has lived only twenty my-body years. The body is selfish, you see – does not look beyond itself. The mind however, is a bit of a bitch. It always looks beyond itself, and never within. Which is why I have the mind of a forty-five year old. A mark-up of a whole fifty percent. So, dear sonny, I will live to a ripe old age of one hundred as opposed to the human standard of sixty-six. Which means, at the numeric age of one hundred, my body will admit that it has turned sixty six, and give out. My mind would be a hundred-and-fifty by then. This lack of sync goes deeper that even just age and longevity. It explains how I live too much in the past for my own good, and how nobody really understands it. It also explains how I think way too much in the future for my own good, and nobody understands that either. So, in a nutshell, kiddo, I will live to the ripe old age of one hundred, be fit as a fiddle till my very end, have a razor sharp mind, and be terribly… terribly lonely. I will outlive all around me, out-think all that come after me, and live forever with the ghosts of the past – whom I have never really met. It is going to get terribly lonesome sometimes. The signs are all over. You get me, child? Hey kiddo! Kiddo! Sonny!.... Bhaag gaya haraamzaada…”