Seeing his helpless aunt and hearing the pitch of her cry gave in for the violent waves of emotions to engulf his face. Scratching his head in no less mannerism of a mad man he directed her towards the room where the dead body of his father was lying still and cold; surrounded by the howling members of the pack. The madness of uncertainty took over only for a few seconds though, for good or worse, before he came back to his stoic self and continued with his engagements in the corridor.
Has this ever happened to you? You wake up in the morning like any other day and all of a sudden you realize nothing around you including yourself makes any sense.
Your face seems to carry a smile that’s not your own; your day is consumed by some work that seems mundane and forced; your etiquette constantly struggling to cope up with the contrasting chatters in your head that continue to tirelessly mock you for what you have become.
This does happen to me from time to time. Sometimes it’s my clothes, sometimes it’s my skin… sometimes it’s my reflection in the mirror giving me impressions of an alien world where I continue to exist. It’s always something or other, trying really hard to be me.
I wonder how it would be to LIVE for a change than to continue to exist. Free from all dos and don’ts, from all expectations, from all rituals and customs.
Animals get to live life freely, true to their innate nature. Ain’t they? A dog continues to be a pack member, while a cat continues to be a solitary animal. They don’t trade their basic traits for the sake of getting better acceptability.
Guess, that’s why I don’t see as many suicidal animals as many suicidal human beings around me. First and foremost, they continue to fight to survive, no matter the circumstance, which is something I wish to experience again.
Why can’t we be just us! Is it that difficult?
Maybe yes or maybe no. But, I won’t get to know. Cause I simply flew all my life wherever, in whatever skin life took me in. Without raising any questions. Guess, ‘not raising questions’ has now become my only faithful trait as an independent individual. And, I have grown old now. My childhood seems hazy and alien; like some old movie that I remember only in bits and pieces.
And in my last days, close to my end of the line, if someone asks me to give a title to the story of my life, it would be, “A cat who is still trying to be a dog.”
I have never been a fan of summer. Would you like warm water for shower on a hot summer day? No, perhaps. It actually took me some years to understand why they talk so fondly of summer in English literature. Most of the authors being from English speaking cold countries, they are expected to awe summer. To my understanding the purpose of language is to convey meaning; between two individuals at least. And the notion of something as a universal language is only bound to fail, given how diverse we are spatially. So, if not universal, where should we draw the line then? That fine line to separate something noble and utilitarian from something universal and despotic. You make the sample space of people smaller to bring in more sensibility, more understanding, of that particular group per se. But, you keep reducing it to factor into anomalies; ultimately bringing it to a handful number of like minded people or maybe you end up building your own, personal, very private language; losing its purpose in this process.
Guess, that’s what keeps things running. I look around me and on a sunny day, I experience kindness, love, brotherhood. While on a gloomy day, I see just the opposite. I can take inspiration from each and see the same world with two completely contrasting perspectives. But, I choose to pick some things from one and some from the other lot. Why? Maybe I am meant to be an agent of balance.
I am sure you are aware of the second law of thermodynamics. According to it, the total entropy of an isolated system can never decrease over time. But yes, we can try and keep it constant. Guess, that’s what balancing is all about. Isn’t it? Seeing different facets of it at different times and spaces. We kill in the name of freedom. We dominate in the name of order. We mock the very basic tenets of individuals in the name of society. Guess, in the face of basic instinct for survival, we end up killing ourselves for the sake of this isolated system called ‘Life on Earth’.
And, this makes me wonder, which one would be worse?
“To be myself or be someone with a higher longevity?”
It looks like It’ll take me some more years to come to terms with this understanding that…
“For peace, chaos is necessary.
And so is death for life. It’s all about balance. And nothing and no one escapes it.”