The War of the Fingers

one moment

Standing 1300 meters above the valley, I throw a pebble down the face of the cliff.

It silently plummets. Slowly, almost playfully it twists in that stillness. I watch the pebble. I feel like I am witnessing an eternal drama.

Some ordinary moments can have such extraordinary vastness.

cleanliness drive

I cleaned my room so well yesterday that one could eat off the floor. Which is a good thing too since I somehow managed to misplace the plates.

the knot

Marriage. Its something so intimate, so personal. How can anyone make a show out of it? How can something so personal be done in a public forum with so many prodding eyes? The public declaration of eternal love and faithfulness. How can these words be pronounced in anything but a personal sphere between the two. Isn’t it embarrassing? The show. The watchful eyes.

death

Death. Dying. Ugly words. Conjures up visions of darkness, space, emptiness, nothingness. An inescapable, grasping, greedy void. I like reading about death and dying though. Reading about the last few days of terminally ill patients. Reading about the horror that unfolds in front of them, second by inevitable second. It’s like standing at the edge of a cliff and looking down. Or watching a ferocious, hungry, wild animal pounce at you when you stand protected behind a wall of impenetrable glass. There’s safety in reading about their pain and struggle. It’s too early for me to sense any real danger. Or at least that’s what I feel.

Death. The final argument. Life’s ultimate touché. The universal coup de grace. There are no further arguments. No further course of action required. The definitive answer to a life long question.

My time will also come. I won’t always be a spectator. The gift of this life force can’t last forever. All that I lived for, dreamed of, experienced, feared, thought about, all of it in a second will vanish without a trace. My whole life will grind away to nothing. The magical life giving force will vacate without so much as a goodbye or a backward glance.

I don’t want to die. I don’t want the whole of my life, me, to come to this nothingness. But I don’t want to kid myself into believing in theories that promise continuity either. The Eternal Soul. Reincarnation. Post-Death-Life in Other Dimensions. Heaven and Hell. All of these theories propagate the lie of continuity. There is no continuity after death. I want to be able to look at death in the face, without these shields, these fanciful toys that are used to deflect reality.

And yet, can I even begin to understand what my own death means to me? The destruction of my physical body. The annihilation of the very mind that defines me, the mind that is thinking these thoughts right now. Can I comprehend this loss? Can I comprehend the magnitude of this loss? How can I even begin to mourn the possibility of there being no me? I cannot. I cannot even see myself as a lifeless body. And yet that is exactly what I am walking towards. There is no escape. No secret tunnel I can take, no extra life points that I can collect. This is it. The whole of it. I cannot have more. There are no second helpings. The game is set up in such a way that no matter how I play it, there is invariably the end game.

From the perspective of death, so much of what I do everyday seems so petty, so trivial. The thoughts that wrack my mind during the day seem so insignificant and jaded when compared to what I am going to have to face some day. All of what I do, have done, plan to do, seem so useless, so hopelessly futile. I cannot live with the idea of a dark shadow that moves with me all the time. I would feel like a prisoner in the gallows, living out his death sentence. I mean if all this is so fleeting then why spend it in anything but utmost ecstasy. Why shouldn’t I head off to the mountains and spend the rest of my life meditating, making merry, having sex, getting drunk, trekking, singing, doping, dancing…? Why live even a single responsible moment?

The only answer that I have to that question: I just do.

Therefore, for me to live as I do, it’s pertinent that I sweep aside the reality of death. I have to refuse to acknowledge the inevitable. Otherwise how am I to live a normal life? I consciously allow myself to continue to carry the illusion of my own death being a distant and academic concept. I need this illusion. Not only because I am afraid to contemplate my end but also because that illusion protects my present day precious reality. It helps me to keep consequences in mind. It helps me want to grow, to improve myself, to become a better person. It helps me lead a responsible adult life.

And this illusion I will continue to hold dearly, till some day in future, when I am lying bleeding in the middle of a road or writhing in some unnamed hospital room or lying peacefully in my own bed, the burden of carrying this illusion will become too much and purely unnecessary. Probably for the first time in my life I would be able to look death in the face and laugh.

like mother like son

Mom called like 5 times. I was 'busy' so I didn’t want to take her call. Now couple of hours later I call her and she isn’t picking up the phone. What if something happened to her? What if she had used her last breath to call me? Now that is exactly the kind of paranoid thinking that she does and I hate.

what i'd rather forget

I used to know someone who was intelligent, honest and passionate. There was magic in her words. She smiled often and I wanted to hug her every time she did. She had this swirling flocks of untamable sprightly things for hair. She was charming. She was girlish. And she was a person I used to know well.

When I talked to her it was like talking to the person I hoped to be someday. I felt relieved to know that there was someone like her out there in this world.

We spent hours on the phone. I let her have the most unembellished version of my past. I told her of my biggest fears, the most disappointing failures and the most painful setbacks. I told her of the triumphs I had achieved in life so far. I wanted to stand naked in front of her without hiding behind any kind of a lie.

It has been two months since I last saw her. More than a month has passed since we last talked over the phone. I thought that I had managed to put a lot of distance between her and me.

Today I went to drop my cousin home. He lives near her place. It had been a while since I last drove through that road that leads to her house. The sights and sounds of that road. It reminded me of the other times when I had passed through it, engaged in some delightful conversation with her. I even passed the corner right next to her house where we used to stop and talk, before she walked back home.

I came back today feeling lost and alone. I didn’t know that I missed her this badly.

What roads did I take in life so that I am at this juncture where I desperately want to call her but know that I can’t, and I won’t?

"The most dreadful thing that can happen to a man is to become ridiculous in his own eyes in a mater of essential importance." - Kierkegaard

dyerisms & bachisms

Raja termed it ‘dyerisms’. Some jokes I came up with on Wayne Dyer (author of Your Erroneous Zones). See if you find this funny:

What do you call a guy who’s very conscious of his appearance and dyes clothes for a living?
A Vain Dyer

What’s Wayne’s favorite game?
Truth or Dyer

What did Wayne do to the horny dog?
Cut off his erroneous bone

What’s Wayne’s favorite Jackie Chan movie?
En-dyer the Dragon

Knock Knock
Who’s there?
Dyer Wayne
Don’t know, dye her whenever you want

Why did Wayne pick up an ‘r’ when he was wet?
He wanted to be drier (d-r-yer)

What would you call a book of Wayne’s clients?
A dyerectory

What did Wayne do to the gal who was shot in the butt with an arrow?
Examined her arrow-neous zones!

Why didn’t the guy who spent the entire day forwarding Wayne jokes go to the office party?
He was way too dyered.

What’s the name of the book Wayne has written to help people who have three nipples?
Your Erroneous Cones

What kind of emotions are guilt and worry?
In-dyerect emotions

What’s Wayne favorite ailment?
Dyerea

What do you call a state in which you have to choose between two of Wayne's principles, both options being unfavorable?
Dyerama

What did Wayne do to the neighbor who was screwing Wayne’s wife?
Cut off his erroneous bone. (Sorry for using the same one again, guess I should be more en-dyerprising.)

What’s Wayne’s favorite band?
Dyer Straits

I hope all this time that I spent in thinking up dyerisms wasn’t en-dyerly in wayne.



And here’s some on Richard Bach. I am gonna call it Bachisms (what else?):

What do you a bunch of buffaloes that were once rich?
A Rich Herd Back

What’s Richard’s favorite sci-fi movie?
Bach to the Future

What’s Richard’s second most favorite sci-fi movie?
Bach to the Future II

What’s Richard’s favorite organism?
Bachteria

state of receiving

Went to one of my regular restaurants yesterday. Noticed this boy there. He’s a helper. He cleans the tables, serves water, takes away the dirty dishes. Mostly doing series of thankless tasks. Always walking from table to table till midnight. And yesterday I glanced at his face. In that honest unexpected moment, for the first time I saw his expression. It’s tiered and angry. He serves water at my table. I have seen this boy before. Was rude to him couple of times on earlier occasions. Don’t entirely remember why. And as he serves me water, I say to myself that I should try and make his life easier somehow. No, I am not thinking about his life in particular. It’s about doing something to make anyone’s life easier.

All my life I’ve been taking. Taking with both hands open. Greedily grasping at anything life throws at me.

Its time I learned to give too. Give with both my heart and my hands open.

I’ve had very unhealthy habits before I moved on to my present day healthier lifestyle. I have been intimate with many people before I can now experience the magic of aloneness. I move from state to state. Ideals and ideas I rejected earlier, at times become a part of me for sometime before I move to yet another state. This is evidence of life, evidence that I am living, changing, evolving.

So undoubtedly I’ll move to the state of giving and helping also. However, I am getting too far ahead into the story. As of now I am enjoying the Getting, the Having and the occasional Giving.

downside of life

What’s with these lazy perpetually tiered days. These passionless days. These protracted days that lumber on without any hope. And whatever happened to those days of fire, days when 24 hours just didn’t seem enough. Now 24 hours seems like such a drag. I am afraid I’ve lost all interest in life, in living. My self-talks, the pep talks, are getting less effective. I can see the lies that I feed myself with.

I don’t seem to be ‘sparked’ by anything any more. Nothing sets me off. I am a mechanical robot set loose in this world of shifting sands. My pre-programmed responses are increasingly proving to be ineffective. My emotional repertoire consists of gloomy, very gloomy and dead. Not kicked by anything or anyone. Used to be that I had ideas but little will to drive them to actualization. Now even the ‘ideas well’ has dried up.

Most of the time I am tiered and just want to sleep. But sleep isn’t restful. I wake up and realize there is nothing that I want to do. There’s no place I want to be. There’s no one I want to meet. And I don’t want to relapse to a state of beating myself up into doing things.

Like a troubled insomniac twisting and turning in his bed. All his thoughts trying to fight off the knowledge of the dark sleepless hours that stretch on before him.

I feel that I am locked inside this giant clam, being squished from all sides by some invisible forces that are trying to drain out a juice that isn’t there.

I am tiered of all this. I am tiered of the quick fix responses and the counter arguments. Tiered of my halfhearted ‘Action Plans’. Tiered of trying to fix what is wrong in my life.

Try as I might I cant seem to out argue my hopelessness. When there isn’t anything to look forward to, what arguments can I give myself?

The face that I see in the mirror, my savior, is too damn depressed to save me from this hell right now.

enthusiastic phases of life

Sometime back I read this book called Rich Dad Poor Dad. After that I felt passionate about investing. No matter what happened I would get my daily doze of CNBC. I would wake up real early in the morning and find myself glued to CNBC. I would take down the share prices of important stocks. Next to it I would note my own predictions of where the prices were headed. I would scrutinize the business section of newspapers carefully. Reading between the lines. All this lasted for little more than a week. It’s been seven months since that week got over. Haven’t watched CNBC ever since. Or read the business section of any newspaper with any kind of regularity.

The enthusiastic phases of life. It comes around every couple of weeks. A new idea to think about, a new theme to live by, a new way of doing old things, a new outlook towards life or problems.

At different stages in my life I wanted to be one of the following. An expert hacker (spent a week downloading 2gbs of how-to-hack data, which I never read). A bodybuilder like Schwarzenegger (spent a month in a gym and have never entered a gym since then). A star website designer (spent 5 months learning flash and adobe photoshop but never got around to using my knowledge in any constructive way). I also wanted to be a finance wiz (read half of Benjamin Graham’s Intelligent Investor before tossing it aside). I wanted to be a Buddhist (read couple of websites on Buddhism before I got bored). This list of what I want/wanted to be is endless.

What bought on these enthusiastic phases? At times it was guilt, that I haven’t done enough in life. At other times it was fear, that things will get worse if I don’t do something about them now. On some occasions it was the desire for acceptance, so I could dazzle people with my brilliance. On more memorable occasions, it was self-love. The kind of love that made me want to be a better person. Not to be better than anyone else, just to be better than myself.

Sadly, most of these phases typically haven’t lasted for more than a month.

And yet, a lot of what I am proud of today is a result of these enthusiastic phases. Being a good public speaker. Having cultivated a habit of reading books. Exercising regularly. After repeated failures, finally succeed in quitting cigarettes. Got out of drugs. Packed my bags and traveled.

Of the thousand enthusiastic phases I have had in the last 26 years of my life, only a handful lasted a week. And of the handful, fewer still lasted a month. Of this lot, a tiny minority has lasted longer, stood the test of time and gone on to define who I am today.

And yet when the phases happened I had no way of differentiating between a habit that will last a lifetime and one that will barely last a week.

As of today I am enthusiastic about running an ice cream stall of my own, being an extraordinary voice-over artist, having a black belt in karate and being a great teacher.

Maybe all four of them will eventually become a part of who I am. Or perhaps all four will fail to last for any meaningful time frame. I would never know for sure till I jump into them completely, immerse myself in them with all my heart and soul.

So, I will give into my impulses. Each time I am in my enthusiastic phase I will act as if this one will go on to define me. Because in the end if I were to make a list of decisions that have changed my life, it would contain items that were all impulses once upon a time. It was that one book that I picked up and read. It was that one day of jogging. One day of not smoking. One moment of mustering enough courage to go up on stage. All were impulses. All are now a part of me.

Conclusion: I’ll spend as many days being a voice over artist as I want. I’ll spend as many days exploring and building the concept of ‘Sandy Ice Cream Stalls’. I’ll continue to dream about being a black belt. I will play into my visions of being able to help and guide people.

Here’s to the enthusiastic phases in life! Don’t know what I would have done without them.

detachment

When I detach myself from this world, I become an observer and cease to be a participant. My environment no longer defines me. The circumstances I find myself in loose their menacing build and take on more manageable forms. My mind becomes silent. Everything around me acquires an inexplicable magical tinge. I don’t label anything. I don’t judge anyone. I feel happy. Feel light.

I can put my heart into the work that I do and in the midst of all that activity my mind continues to be silent. I don’t get bogged down by the weight of expectations. I can allow myself to put the results out of the picture.

The restlessness that was last two weeks. I had lost my detachment. I became involved in everything. Expectations skyrocketed. Emotions ran wild. And since I wasn’t observing I didn’t know what was happening to me, to the world around me. Ego ruled supreme and everything became about me, me, ME.

Detachment is not about not trying hard enough. It is when, even as I give everything my best, I am always observing my actions and myself. Even though my heart and body are completely engaged, my mind is silent, detached.

Detachment is about rediscovering the internal stillness. It’s about finding peace. Its about allowing the soul to take over.

hair today, gone tomorrow

Something about the air in Mumbai. Made me want to tonsure. While I was admiring my new look and contemplating on the meaning of life, a mosquito came and bit me, on my head! On my head! And while I was fulminating over it, another mosquito came and bit me right next to where the first one had. I ran out of the barbershop like a madman, waving my arms all over my head.

Went and complained to my roommate, hoping for a sympathetic ear. He joked that the two mosquitoes would brag to all their fellow mosquito friends about how I gave both of them head!

The mosquitoes won’t stop biting me on my head. Forced to wear a cap these days. The place where I stay is mosquito infested. So when I go to sleep, I sleep with a cap on. My roommate thinks that’s hilarious. Infact I woke up screaming about aliens the other night only to discover that it was my roommate taking Polaroid snaps of me. While I was stuffing the Polaroid down his throat, he kept mumbling something about sending the photos home to cheer his aging parents.

being sure

I have spent many years being ‘sure’ of what I want.

A blind cowboy riding his horse. Throwing the lasso around with all sound and fury.

Once in a while he would snare something and get dragged along.

why this?

This whole ‘lost in the wilderness of Mumbai’ thing. I see no joy in this. I feel frustrated. I feel like I am some china doll kept on a window display. Every idiot who walks by can stare at me.

I don’t understand why did I pick Mumbai? Why not Musorrie, or Mohanagar or Mangalapuram? Why am I torturing myself in this crowded city? Why am I living in this 10’ x 8’ room with nine other people? Why did I travel 1500 kilometers from home to stay in some cramped up room with truck drivers and not have a clue what my next step would be?

I experientially know that pain is very instructive. The mental trauma involved in confronting problems is very educative. It’s all towards the higher purpose of making me stronger, wiser and more experienced to handle life. Borrowed this entire philosophy from The Road Less Traveled. And yet, on some days when I wake up, all this seems like such senseless self torture. There is no direction that I am going in. There is nothing that I am driven towards. This existence of mine is as meaningless as the one before. This is some kind of watch-myself-walk-over-hot-coals syndrome.

Climbing up hill is no fun if there is no down hill to roll down on. One can’t always swim against the tide. I need my down hills too. I need easy times too. I need some rewards stacked up against my ‘risks taken’ column.

Today I am confused, disappointed and perhaps even somewhat disillusioned.

a day less ordinary

I had a completely spontaneous day today.

I slept on a lakeside bench by a fort in Udaipur. I woke up to the sounds of someone calling out to his God through a minaret. The voice reverberated through the fort. I could feel his devotion. I could also feel his pain. Through his voice, his life sort of unfolded in front of me. He was calling out to his God, to come save him.

I got up from there and drove down to another lake nearby. I trekked along the lake. Picked up the stones that were lying by and tried to make them skid along the water. After a while I got bored.

So I went for a walk through a garden on the other side of the lake. The air around the place had a very earthy smell to it. The flowers weren’t in bloom but the garden had a well trimmed look.

Later I went driving up the hills of Udaipur. When I reached the end of the road, I parked my bike and went for a walk. I walked on through the dream landscape. There was absolute silence all around except for the steady crunchy sound of my shoes on the unbroken ground. When I reached a place where I knew I would have just enough energy to walk back to the bike I sat down and listened to the silence.

On my way back I found a liquor shop. Bought couple of beers and got drunk. Sat on my bike and watched the sun set behind the hills.

Each moment that I lived today was better than the one before. Each moment that came to meet me passed on memories that I will carry around for a long time.

If I were to do this day all over again would I make the same choices?

If not, then what were the other wonders that this world had in store for me today?

who am i?

Sometimes I feel that somewhere in my past life I must have been an adventurer, an explorer, scaling mountains, trekking, walking miles on, alone, at peace with myself and yet always restless.

Sometimes I can see myself as a professor, a history professor to be more specific. I wear specks and a bad suit. Lead a quiet passive life. A life relegated to books and learning. A peaceful life that moves just enough to give evidence of life.

I can also see myself as a monk. The bald head, the Buddhist robes. I can feel the serenity, the power that comes out of quiet inner peace. I am one with this world and everything in it.

At times I can picture myself as a flamboyant businessman, the maker of dreams, a man of this world. I can see people reading about me. I wallow in power and fame and riches.

I can see my present life. See myself in the past. The school boy who wanted to be a great orator, the confused college graduate, the post graduate chasing an endless dream of having 'enough' money.

And I see myself now. Poised in mid air. Ready for flight, ready to take a direction. Whatever I decide in the next few days could very well define me. Whichever way I turn is a new road, a new set of me-s waiting to happen. I have managed to put myself in a situation that is difficult to come to. I have managed to break myself free from everything.

Now I will choose.

Every aspect of my life I will choose. What do I do for a living, what thoughts I think, what life style do I follow, what values do I hold. This is the time for independent thinking. This is a chance to be my own person.

I know that once I have the right questions, the answers will follow. My task is to set myself the right questions.

So here’s what I think my questions are:

From the countless visions that appeal to me which one should I choose?

Which ones will make me happy?

In which all ones hides the real me?

fear

I am on a road trip. This is the first time I am traveling alone so far and for so many days. The first two days were a pain. I reached unknown cities and searched for a place to stay in. On both days I had to travel around 25kms within the city and check out 10 hotel before I found anything that fit my budget. This caused a lot of stress.

I had a dream yesterday. In this dream I saw myself in a hostel. I was the only one who didn’t have a room. I was running from place to place, looking for a room to stay in.

The weird part is that even when I was dreaming, within this dream, I realized that this entire episode was a playback of the basic fear that I had: the fear of being without a roof on my head in a strange place.

In my diary I had written about another dream in which saw myself stranded in the middle of nowhere pushing my bike along. This again reflects on a fear of mine.

This long solitary trip was supposed to address my fears. However, I just seem to be replacing my old fears with a set of new ones.

Why am I so afraid?

the dancing elephant

The dancing elephant in the circus that charms the crowd. The cheers die down and the gay crowd leaves. Instead of sleep, there comes an uncomfortable awareness. This is not the life I am destined to live. I am more than this.

That’s how I feel at times. Like I am just another dancing elephant.

I tell myself that I won’t care for public recognition. I tell myself that I will be my own man. And yet after every couple of months when I check up on things, a lot of decisions in my life were based on what others will think. It’s got less place for me and more for people who won’t give a hoot if I turn around and die tomorrow.

So what does this make me? It’s an uncomfortable question. I have spend years not asking it. I guess I know the answer too well.

However, I want to grow. I crave for a better me.

Anki tells me that the way to go is not to tell people too many things. Let them keep guessing what you are up to. If they ask then you can avoid the question. Or even better you can lie and tell them that things are going great, even if they aren’t.

How does that help? Well, it helps in one way that people will be at bay and you can keep doing your own thing. It does have its plus points. However, it lacks honesty. I don’t want to live a lie. I want to be myself no matter how things are going. Like that Howard Roark guy, or even like Forest Gump.

I know I don’t have to care about what people will think. I can tell myself that people don’t count. I can tell myself that they don’t matter. I can keep doing my own thing and forget the rest.

That is what I tell myself at these analysis sessions. But things slip up. And at the end of the review sessions I am back to being the dancing elephant.

two tests

I use these two tests to see if something that I have told myself I love is really worth doing.

Would I do if it was socially unacceptable?

Would I do it if there was no money in it?