Yesterday evening, I fell asleep with my Android phone in my hand. I slept soundly. When I opened my eyes, dawn had broken, but the phone was still in my hand.
A strange worry had taken hold of me:
What if the picture changed… what if the promise was broken?
The thought followed me everywhere. In the morning, on the way out of home, inside the car, and even when I reached the shrine, the same fear haunted me.
Suddenly, I looked towards the sky and began to cry:
“Take it, O Lord… take it, O Lord… O Lord, take it!”
I kept shouting until someone caught hold of my hand. I looked around and found a crowd gathered around me.
One man said, “You madman! People pray, ‘Give it, O Lord,’ but you keep saying, ‘Take it, O Lord.’ What is there left for Him to take?”
I looked straight into his eyes and shouted:
“Hatred… jealousy… spite… ignorance!”
He asked, “What do you want?”
I replied, “Let the picture not change… let the promise not be broken.”
“What was in the picture?” he asked.
“My past,” I answered.
“And what was there in your past?”
“Affection… tolerance… truthfulness… humanity.”
Before he could ask anything further, another man interrupted:
“This fellow is mad. He must be searching for some Laila!”
Someone slapped him and said, “You are the mad one! He is simply lost in his own world. Do not insult him.”
Another man remarked, “What does a madman know? He can say anything.”
Soon, everyone began interpreting my words according to their own understanding.
“What promise is he talking about?” someone asked.
“Perhaps the promises politicians make during elections and never fulfil,” another replied.
“And what about the picture?” someone else asked.
“Maybe it is the face of someone dear to him—a friend, a brother, or a son disfigured by cruel hands.”
Another suggested, “Perhaps he is talking about an old promise that people have forgotten with time.”
A man who seemed interested in history said, “Study the past, and you may understand. Perhaps he is talking about a time that had its own identity, its own distinct picture. Maybe that is the promise he fears losing.”
But someone else dismissed the idea.
“No, my friend. He is mad. Some girl must have driven him crazy.”
“Come on, let’s go!”
“One man has gone mad. That doesn't mean we all have to stay here!”
One by one, the crowd dispersed. Their voices faded, their interpretations disappeared, and I was left alone once again.
And then, the same thought returned to haunt me:
What if the picture changed… what if the promise was broken?
Clarify the picture and promise Strengthen the final emotional reveal

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