The Vaticinator

1. My Uncomplicated Life

Curiosity is a very peculiar thing. It may bespeak the underlying intelligence which has contributed to the vast development of our modern society over the ages. If one will not be curious, then how may he feel the encouragement to indulge in an activity? An activity that may cause progression. We live in a world that is constantly changing, constantly developing towards betterment. Curiosity is an expedient that lets us remain in the forward motion.

On the other hand, curiosity can also kill the cat. Plunging into the unknown, especially the kind which holds a danger signal, will be…well, unhealthy. Like in a horror movie, when the protagonist walks towards the danger, just to sate her curiosity. The end is never good as we all know.

Or curiosity can be neither of those. It may simply be…simple. The plain curiosity, like for an example, a person curious to know why, and also how, the cat, which is being saved by the fire extinguisher workers, climbed the tree in the first place. ‘Snooping into vague businesses, which is not yours to begin with’ curiosity; the harmless curiosity, in my words. ‘Dumb’ curiosity, as my mother says. ‘Useless’, in my father’s opinion.

Unfortunate for them, I happen to be the oddity who is always curious about such most irrelevant things.

Irrelevant for my family, mind you. For me, it’s as much important to sate my curiosity as the bathing ritual every day. My mother tends to find my inquisitiveness adorable. So adorable, that she simply pinches my cheek, coos at me while laughing softly, her pearly white teeth contrasting vividly against her usually bright red lip shade, blinding me for several moments. And then she departs with her wheat blonde hair dancing in curls as her plump figure elegantly walks away. Without answering my ‘curious’ question. Even now, when I am not a kid anymore, and tower almost a foot over her height, she still manages to act in this similar fashion every time. It’s like the locution, a child forever remains a child for his mother.

My aunt, Rufina Jedi, is far tamer when it comes to such reactions. She is probably the only person who doesn’t treat me like a child, but like an adult. Like her equal. But even that prestige doesn’t grant me the answers all the time. Her manner of declining an answer is far more convincing than that of my parents. Wisely, Rufina aunt will simply advise to not be this curious. Ignorance is bliss, she says. What you do not know can’t hurt you, right?

Since the last three years I have been trying to pursue Rufina aunt’s ideology. Sometimes I succeed, sometimes I fail miserably. I have been inclining towards the latter quite a lot, but hey, give me credit for at least trying. And it’s not like I sit back and let myself dwindle under the burden of my failed attempts. I take care to always quetch myself for being interested in useless subjects and cavalierly nose-diving into the unknown. I may not always fail…unlike right now. But I do feel severe compunction upon my failures, just like right now. Swallowing the view in front of me, I question myself, why did I get enough curious by the voices and turn into this corridor? More so, why couldn’t I just be an ignorant bullhead and continue along my original path towards the outside of the school premises?

I am a curious kid, that’s why.

“Hey!” I snap at the huddled crowd.

Everybody turn their necks, as if jolted by an invisible spring, to see me approaching. For a moment, I let myself bask in the attention. And then I regret attracting the attention at all. I have never particularly felt the desire to be in the center. Not because I am socially awkward. In fact, I am fairly amiable, having a very large circle of friends. But undivided attention from an audience is never welcomed, even when I plan to execute something good. Fame can change the way people look at you, and more importantly, make people look at you more. I am different enough, and even though my digression from normal people is a positive attribute of mine, still, divulging how different I am has never been on the top of my priority list. It’s bizarre when I notice people having a completely contrary viewpoint on the subject. Like one of my friends, Ray Jecksen. Though I label him as ‘friend’ and we hang out with the same people, I have never been particularly close to Ray. Ray being the ‘hero’ of our school and therefore the attention-attracter, he is invariably someone I tend to avoid. Ray is praised by everyone for his good persona, but I do not know if simply standing like a spectator while someone gets bullied counts as something ‘good’.