Friday, July 28, 2006

Simple pleasures

Laziness is detrimental but it's fun too. After studies and before work, there was a phase, an extended phase of divine laziness. I would go over to a friend's place and sit for the whole day and chat. He too was in a similar state of bliss and we'd destroy time in idle gossip. Or I'd watch movies. Devour books by dozens. Stare into the sky and let imagination soar. Scribble nonsense and try to make literature out of it. Stay awake until the wee hours of the morning, lost in contemplation, giving shape to a future(?).

No doubt, it was a horrible waste of time and energy. When I'm scrambling for time now, trying to fill in a whole lot of activities within the 24 hours, wondering at the enormity of the tasks ahead...it certainly was gold flushed down the drainage.

But still, it was beautiful--inspite of the irresponsibility and uncertainty. Beautiful because maybe it can't be repeated. From one angle, those years were wasteful--with no material productivity. No job, no career growth, no accumulation of money in your account, no learning in the work place. But from another viewpoint...that was the phase where I was living life the way I wanted to, however amaeturish it might have been.

When I'm updating my blogpost, I come across this. Fantastic!

I take a day off from my work schedule and stay home. I eat my breakfast leisurely and watch the morning news on TV. I meditate for an hour. At 11 archana brings me a steaming cup of coffee. As I sip coffee, I read from the pages of 'India My Love,' by Osho. It begins to drizzle and soon it's pelting outside. The weather's absolutely pleasant and I stare at the downpour for a long time doing NOTHING. It's bliss.

A friend calls up at night and we chat for a long time. He wants to know about my plans for the future. I blabber a bit and realise that there are no plans in me. I only have a destination and one or two steps that go in that direction. But the exact road map...? I'm at a loss.

As I lie down staring at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of midnight, the enormity of the future unfolds before my eyes. In my childhood, whenever I fell ill, I'd wake up with scary dreams where I'm faced with an insurmountable task and I'm unable to take a single step. My situation at present looks similar.

Then a few words come to me--words I'd heard recently. 'You are on a mist covered road, not knowing what lies ahead, unable to see beyond a few steps. Take one or two steps. The mist clears up and you see the next steps. Walk further. The mist clears again. Take small steps and keep moving. In Faith.'

You don't always walk from A to B, with clearly defined steps in between. Most of the times you do, but at times you fly. A whirlwind picks you up at A and throws you down at B. Life isn't rational all the time.

I know my destination. I know the few steps ahead. And I have my passion and faith. I'll walk!

Nowadays we're twisting words at home and it creates humour in our everyday speech. If we want to call someone stupid, we say 'styupah', with a stress on the letter 'h'. Or 'idiotah' for idiot, the way italians pronounce. Or 'What's your probos(what's your problem)? Or 'Okie-dokie!(for okay!)

Dilip's stopped blogging. Styupah!

3 comments:

  1. Procrastination is definitely a pleasure. Sigh... if only one could afford it these days...

    ReplyDelete
  2. Hi, I was pinging my blog and noticed a link which was yours. Thanks for the mention coming across my blog. ...smile... You have a wonderful blog. I shall be back to read more.

    ~Anna

    ReplyDelete
  3. That “laziness” called also be termed “Sabbath”—divinely ordained then and much more so now.

    Life, I have found, is seldom rationale. It wouldn’t be fun if it were. As for plans to get from A to B, they may change; remember Stephen Crane’s poem (one of my favorites):

    The wayfarer,
    Perceiving the pathway to truth,
    Was struck with astonishment.
    It was thickly grown with weeds.
    "Ha," he said,
    "I see that none has passed here
    In a long time."
    Later he saw that each weed
    Was a singular knife.
    "Well," he mumbled at last,
    "Doubtless there are other roads."

    ReplyDelete