I had not seen the man on my way up to the mountain. Otherwise I would have remembered. He had set up a wooden table next to the path that led to the Inca ruins, offering his merchandise to the tourists.
I stood still in front of the table and inspected the products with
curiosity. The table was covered with red bricks. Old bricks, as far as I
could tell.
I bent over and looked closer at the bricks, wondering what was so
special about them. To me, they appeared to be normal red bricks, such
as those that you would find on any construction site. I contemplated
the man behind the table for a moment, trying to assess his age.
The brick salesman was in his late thirties or early forties and had an
intelligent look about him. Nevertheless, it was obvious that the poor
man had lost his mind. As I walked away, I shook my head, feeling sorry
for him.
What could possibly have happened to him? How come that he had lost
his capacity for reasoning? After walking a few steps, I decided to
inquire about the cause of his lunacy. I returned to his table,
only to see that he was putting labels on the bricks.
He would pick up a brick, examine it carefully, remove a sticker from a
plastic sheet that he had laid on the table, and then he would place the
sticker on the brick. Each sticker had a hand-written name on it.
While the man continued to place labels on the bricks, I picked one of
them and read the word on its label. "Kon" it read. What on earth
is Kon, I asked myself. I put the brick back on the table and picked up
another one. This time, I found the word "Apu" written on it. Apu? What
was that supposed to mean?
The man placed the labels calmly on the last bricks and turned to me.
"Which one do you like best?" he asked. I hesitated before replying,
since I did not want to hurt his feelings. Most likely, it was not his
fault if he had lost his mind. "Kon is a good choice," he went on, "but
if you allow me, I think that Apu would be the most suitable for you."
My reaction came instantly, as I was suspecting him of a hidden attack
against my honour. "Why do you say so? What does Apu mean?" The man
smiled at my incomprehension. "Kon is the Inca God of the Wind, the God
who brings good weather," he explained. "And Apu is the God of the
Mountains, the God who exercises his power through kindness and
understanding."
I could not help feeling flattered by the man's words. I have always
liked to portray myself as a kind person and I believe that once I even
heard someone actually called me so. "But what's the point of setting
labels on red bricks?" I countered, puzzled. I did my best to formulate
my question in a way that did not sound insulting.
The man seemed not to remark the absurdity of the situation and replied
in a matter-of-fact tone. ''The brick it's just a symbol," he indicated
patiently. "Like bricks, human beings are all essentially the same, but
like Gods, each individual is different. Each man's uniqueness lies in his
calling."
I won't tell you how much I paid for the brick, but I think that the
price was worth the story. Even years later, I still keep the red brick
on my living room table. Every visitor that has come to my home has
picked up the brick, read the label, and asked me what Apu means. "Apu,"
I always begin, "let me tell you about Apu."
For more information about rational living and personal development, I refer you to my book The 10 Principles of Rational Living
[Text: http://johnvespasian.blogspot.com]
[Image by Gusjer under Creative Commons Attribution License. See the license terms under http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/us]