For someone whose school and college life was spent very little in education but in full-time sports, i had always regretted having missed out on proper academic life. The vision of a midnight-oil burning studious character has eluded all my life. Instead all my overnight planning has been towards field-setting or stroke-rehearsal for the next day's match. Not sure if it is to compensate that loss of class-room education, i now love to write. And it's corollary, i hate speaking.
Happened to read Leo Tolstoy's God Sees the Truth but Waits a few days back.
This essay was a part of my non-detail syllabus in my first year in college. I don't remember having even bought the book. Therefore i had some guilty affinity to this story. This is about someone, Ivan Aksionov, who pays the price for extreme innocence. The story runs as a parable of forgiveness. Was terribly touched by Tolstoy's narrative. Like the press said '... however hard you try to clench your fists in prayers, you should also move to protect your physical life'. Many of us miss that part.
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