Nothing's crap

A lone star gives company to the waning moon in the cloudy sky. It's as though the moon's feeling very lonely and a star comes out to say, don't worry, I'm here with you all night.

There has to be this life-affirming force, this immense motivation to live--else you can't lift a finger, can't look beyond yourself, can't take a step further. I've been wondering about this and many more things in the past three days. At one point, I was just asking myself,'Why am I alive, right now? Why should I be? Where's the drive to go ahead with the daily chore? What's the purpose of my life?' You're justified to be in this mood if you're adrift alone on a boat in the high seas for months on end, without the sight of the shore, but to ask this in the thick of life? Maybe life's a sea at times and you get bloody lost.

I'm standing on the terrace, patting tejas to sleep, answering his questions half-heartedly and it's the dead of the night. The road out there is dimly lit, utterly deserted and there's a small arguement going on for the past 10 minutes, between a young man and a lady, who's on a two-wheeler. He appears agitated and isn't allowing her to start her vehicle. Who are these people and what's happening in their lives? Is she married to someone else and having an affair with this guy? Is he stalking her and threatening her to give in to his wishes? He's trying to kiss her, places his hands on her head in a gesture of making promises etc, and she pushes his hands out. What'll happen now? Will he beat her up? Will she shout for help? What'll happen if the beat policemen come up and stop over here? Are these two aware of someone like me standing on a nearby terrace, making assumptions about their lives? Why should I be bothered about who they are and what on earth they've been doing with their life? What if someone does the same with my life?

At night, this road tells a different story, with all the night creatures swarming out and making merry. Drunkards and prostitutes, rowdies and the homeless, police and their victims--it's a different world. A group of drunken teenagers were caught once by a policeman, who grabbed one of them while the others escaped. He thrashed the young boy mercilessly and mounted him on his bike, deaf to all his pleas and cries. That was a year ago. Where is that boy now? What has happened to his life in the past one year?

I tell my team lead that I want a break. '...five days,' I tell him, after an exhausting project. 'Difficult,' he blabbers. 'Our project lead has denied leaves for all team members.' 'Where's he, haven't seen him this week,' I ask and he says, 'He's on a leave, has gone to his native'.
I suppress my urge to spit on his smirking face. I have severe antisocial thoughts that evening--something like blowing up this whole building.

Suddenly Life has acquired a break-neck speed. Look back on the past few months if you don't believe me. Many equations have severely reversed in my life, just this year itself. And sometimes the pace is too much to cope up with, to withstand and bear. I told my Mom that I'll be shifting away from here, to another place where I'll be working henceforth and she was terribly upset. I had another thousand things to tell but didn't. I should've left the nest long back so that my parents wouldn't have got used to my continuous presence. Maybe it should be mandatory--that once you reach adulthood, you build your own nest, far away. Healthy. So that when you decide, you have nobody to be answerable to. It's your life and you take a decision, to drown or to stay afloat.
I'll do the same with my son. Kick him out once he grows up so that he doesn't stay crippled. So that he learns to fly on his own.

Taliban chief Mehsud is dead. That'll give enough fodder for our newsmedia for a couple of days. And now, there's the swine flu scare in India.'One third of the world's population will be affected in 2 years,' says a collegue, quoting WHO. Of course, there'll be new tidings in the next 2 years. We're also discussing and contemplating the flowering of a new consciousness, in the next two years. By 2012!

I wake up early one morning, on an eclipse day, and sit through meditations for an hour. Then sleep. Then wake up with this immense freshness--of being flushed and wiped clean of all blemish. Like a flower.

'Will there be a pay hike?' We've stopped asking this now. A few numbers on my bank account will not decide my happiness. More numbers. Lesser numbers. No numbers. Life depends on these numbers. Sick of such existence, such calculations, such a life. Wanting a new life. Call me an escapist. Like Mccandles of 'Into the wild'.

After a turmoil, I decide vehemently. That I'm much, much beyond any relationships. I'm not my roles. Father, husband, son, disciple, friend, citizen, wage-slave...what else? Nobody decides my happiness, nothing will shape my life henceforth. Then? To simply ask, 'What do I want?' and once the straight answer arrives, to put it into practice. Live simple. Without being dishonest to your self. Will I do it? Can I?

Tejas is fast asleep. The arguement has ended down below on the road and the lady speeds off on her bike. The young man walks in the opposite direction, truimphantly. Slowly, a few more stars come out of the clouds and smile nervously.