Birth, and death,
Death, and birth,
Are either two ends of a line,
Or, two points in a never-ending circle.
Now way to know, to be sure.
After all none have come back,
From the great end.
There was a moment, between when I had picked up my luggage, and when I began looking for a cab, that I felt this sense of loss, this sadness. I had just returned from one of the four or so trips I need in a year to function. I was back in the city. I was home. And yet, I could not shake this feeling of entrapment!
This happened this past Sunday. And a moment was all I had, to feel anything, as the rest of the time was spent trying to catch the last metro before it left the exchange station, which happened a couple of times during the journey.
There were no cabs. And as for Uber, it has these surges!
The three of us stood on the side of the road, butter soaked burgers in hand, talking sweet nothings. The road was jammed, as it usually is. See, the road was not designed with this much of traffic in mind. I had no difficulty in imagining how things had continued to grow worse, since I had shifted here. Back then, there were not this great many families living here. Back then, it was fairly peaceful. Now, it’s a maze of sounds, and sights, bright and harsh.
I continued looking at a distance. There was a board on the opposite side of the road, announcing the food that was on offer. I was faintly aware of it. I was also aware, faintly, of the things that my friends were saying. And, I remember thinking that this should not be the way thing deserve to be.
I deserve more. They deserve more.
It’s one of the greatest truths of life.
Life, is tiring.
That, sort of, derives from the first statement. I mean you are tired when you hike up a mountain, don’t you? You are tired, all the while you are climbing. You might decide to take rest a couple of times, or more, but the tiredness, it remains, all the while. Happiness, is when you get to the peak, and the cold gusts of air wash all over you. When you can look around, and down, and look at the progress you’ve managed to make.
Are you afraid of dying, my friend?
For the last week, and more, I sat, and stared at the above line, wondering, what would be a good way to follow up the above statement? What can I write after that line?
I could have written, how I feel about it. I could have written about my answer to the question, but then, that is the the object of this post.
And so, for a week, I did not manage to write anything after the last post. Maybe, just maybe, I should not be making any announcements before having written something. Yes.
Death, is the most interesting of topics, almost as interesting as the purpose of life. It’s a topic, on which discussions can be had, without worrying about reaching offending conclusions. It is one of the truths of life, one, which we quite conveniently, and mostly, to our peril, manage to forget. We, are designed to die one day. That’s Biology 101. Cells die.
And still, we behave as if we are invincible.
I think I got carried away a little. This, is a story, not a rant.
There is this weird state that I am in, right now.
I think, I have overdone, overstayed my welcome rest, respite, from writing, and everything else. I had managed to finish the first draft, a couple of weeks back. I wrote about it. It was after all an event quite unlike another. It was a first. And no matter how bad it is, the first one is the first one. So, I had written about it the next day, and then, in my mind, I had decided that I will take a week long break. Clear my head, so to say. The first week slipped away, like sand through the fingers. The week after that though, was not so fluid. It dragged on.
And now, that I wish to describe it, the only word that comes to my head is ‘uneasy’. That’s how I was feeling. Uneasy.
I love to.
The first time I tried to fall in love with it, was when I had just been diagnosed with type one. I had to. And that was, well, the reason for the failure I think. Though, I don’t think I’m the sort of person, who can be forced to fall in love with something.
Life continued, and then, for a couple of months I had to leave home, to stay in Hyderabad. Work. That, was when I fell in love with the running. It was liberating. It was my way of de-stressing. I formed my daily schedule around it, and I remember one day, breaking the schedule to go out, while it drizzled out, because I was under pressure. The run lifted me. And I just, fell in love with it. It required no effort. I mean of course, it required for me to get up at four, shit, get out, and actually run, but hey, I was in love!
I don’t understand the likes that I get here, on this blog. I mean most are new people, on each post. Most of the times. Each post brings with it, its own set of people. And each time I wonder, did the people who like the post, actually like it, or I don’t know they somehow ended up here, and just liked it.
It matters to me, that you like the post, for its content, for what it meant to you. If not, if you somehow ended up here, thinking, this was going to be about something else, then, you don’t have to like stuff. I guess you don’t have to either ways. Okay, this has dragged on for too long now.
This was supposed to lead to a point, where I say this to you. It’s very uncommon for me, to have a single set of reader(s) liking multiple posts on the blog. It has happened in the past, but the occurrence is rare. For the couple of posts before the last one, I had a visitor like two posts in continuation, and so I was intrigued. I also happened to have the time necessary to satiate my intrigue. And so, I went to this visitor’s blog, to pay them a visit, to learn of their story. To fill in the blanks as to why they might have liked my posts.
I read a post today. It was about an AI created game-universe. Or something like that. It’s a nice post. Read it. The post ticked off a line of thought which I’ve tried to retrace. Hopefully, it’s going to sound a bit more lucid, out of my head.
I like playing games. Someday in the near future, I hope to get me a console. I am, of course, considering a PC too, but you know how these things go. I like playing games, but there is this thing that has been a fairly irritant part of most of the games I’ve played till date. They are played out in boxes. There is a limited amount of doors you can unlock, limited places you can go to, before, eventually, you face a wall you cannot cross. No matter how hard you press the buttons, no matter how many times you press them, there’s always a boundary you cannot cross, you’re always in a box.
The game is called “No man’s sky“, and the game contains within itself, an universe with no boundaries. You can go anywhere you want to, and there will be stuff there. Always. There would be no wall, anywhere. The tagline suggests it’s an infinite procedurally generated galaxy. I’m not here to discredit that.
There’s this thing going on in my country right now, maybe you’ve heard of it. It is not something I am proud of, of course. But I’ve been told not to write about it.
Before you assume anything, it has nothing to do with censorship, or fear, or any similar noun. If I chose to, I could very well write about it. It’s just that the person who has asked me not to write about it, has just asked me not to write off. She is put off by it. So, I agree. But then, with the end of day, Thursday looming overhead, and having just returned from a four kilometre run, by brain is too high it seems to think of anything. And so, I begin, randomly, and with the JNU incident as the latest example of the thing I am to talk about.
Without further ado, let us begin then.