How many times has it happened to you that you were so engrossed in something, mostly your thoughts, that life slipped by?

I was in love, for even the exhaust from the pipes seemed, incredible and beautiful to me.

How many times has it happened to you that you were so engrossed in something, mostly your thoughts, that life slipped by?

I say how many times, and not has, because, well because I wanted to. And it seems incredibly obvious to me. Something that I can almost pass off as a fact. Almost because, hey I’m still new to the writing about the life stuff, and I’m still uncomfortable with passing beliefs as facts. There is theory I have about self-help books, and why they almost always click, at least while you’re reading them. I think I wrote about this somewhere, but looking for it now, will be, well not possible. So. Yeah.

Getting back at the question then. How many?

If you reach a figure, drop me a mail, or comment, or something.

If, however, you are like me, and your answer is something on the lines of: ‘too many times to give a fuck about!’, read on, and leave a comment, or drop me a mail, or something! Its getting lonely here!

Alright, alright I know, I know.

On my first day home, I actually felt disgusted as I stood outside the railway station, waiting for my people to come pick me up. I was disgusted by the rickshaw driver, who almost pulled me to his auto, as if he was there to pick me up; I was disgusted by the man who came to pick up the person I was standing next to, and the manner in which he talked, too much of kiss-assery in every damn statement out of his mouth; I was disgusted by the dirt, the paan-stained mouth of some fat bastard, almost everything, really. I guess I was sad. Most probably, I was overwhelmed.

And it was weird, for I loved all of this! I loved the people, I mean not really, but I loved looking at the little intricacies, the actions and reactions, the mannerisms, the emotions. I loved that. I loved to look, to see, to observe. I’m not sure when that began, but it has been there since at least my college days.

What is life, if not wonder?

Life becomes long, boring, and tiring, when you don’t look at it. I find it sad to find people, and in troves, who don’t look at it; who get bored by it. Our senses are getting, or have gotten blunted by the information overload so much, or maybe its just a personality trait; that we have stopped looking at it, and getting amazed by it.

Take, for example, the camera. As a kid, I was obsessed with it. ‘How does this thing work?’ was the one question that constantly ran in my head. I remember not being allowed to handle the one we had for a long damn time! And when I did get to hold it, click a picture, that was magical! But then again pictures used to matter back then!

Yesterday I saw two pictures back to back, clicked by my little sister. One of them had my dad’s head off.

I am not a sentimentalist, I get that times are changing, and I’m actually happy about a lot of things. But knowledge has never held that much value to me, experiences however, are a different matter altogether.

Also, I’m hungry.

Too much of boredom, can be well boring, and dangerous. What’s the point of it all, if there is no value to it?

And then, what would you do if there’s no value to it all, and if you find yourself actively bored by it all?

Too many questions. Fun stuff.

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