I look at the pile of books that I have to finish reading. It is at 127 and these are actual physical books, not the loads upon loads of e-books downloaded from various places. I have a bad, bad habit of hoarding books, those who have visited my house will sigh at the sheer mess that one full room is with box upon box of books in addition to a closet full of books.
There was a time when I used to read three books in tandem. One while travelling, as an actual book, one on my phone and one at home. Now finishing one book itself is becoming a chore. Too much time is being spent on Facebook and Twitter and the other beast WhatsApp. For over two decades, I have been writing stuff in notebooks and diaries, every time I think I have finished something of consequence, I chance upon a published work that seems to have my tale’s plot. The number of diaries and books that have been pushed to the ‘kabadiwala’ would run into about a 100 by now.
I honestly don’t know what I am doing!
Writing pays my wages! It always has – content – in some form or the other, creation, analysis, editing – content has paid me all along. After five long years, actually nearly six years, I bid goodbye to my current firm and count my days here. I am shifting to another firm – again a content-driven role in a different industry.
Still there is no clarity or purpose in life. That intense feeling of never having lived up to one’s potential and for having grimly resigned to a mediocre life, sticks out like a sore thumb. Mindfulness, positive thinking, happiness quotient, karma-yogi, workaholic, dependable finisher these are terms that float about in the air.
The fear that all this could end in one moment, the visions that keep haunting me, the unbearable heaviness of knowing that I count my days keeps coming back like a sharp edged sword that pierces the space between my lungs.
I think it is time that I bid goodbye to a lot of things and a lot of people. I have been always someone who has counted the blessings that I have received despite all the pain that I have experienced.
I have always believed that there will be a glimmer of light, some hope to keep pushing forward.
As I look into the mirror, I do not see my reflection, I see the image of a man who has resigned himself to his fate. I am not even a shadow of my former self.
People are attending film appreciation courses, a lot of people are preparing for their marriages, others are taking baby-steps into parenting, legends are travelling from mountains to seas and deserts and beyond, people are working in movies and TV serials. Everyone seems to be in the thick of action. Picture-perfect smiles, everything seems to be perfect in this world. I know there are many a bit of heartbreaks.
Intense pain, passion, reflection, hard work and pure skill that are masked by the smiles.
But still – I go back to that existential question – what is the purpose of this life?
I who could have been born a monkey, a pig, a snake, a wolf, an ant, any damn thing – but instead a human who can think; what is the purpose of this life??
Facebook, Twitter, this blog, or my work in the corporate sector, my family (just my mother), my very limited circle of friends, all my enemies from another lifetime, the massive library of books and movies; none of these entities hold the answers.
The problem with the brain is it that it chooses to hold onto memories; despite wanting to let go of bitter memories, they are the ones that keep clinging on like a leech that keeps sucking blood, bit-by-bit growing in size to become a cancerous tumour.
Some time to sort out some things that have been initiated. Then it will be the Long Goodbye! Away from the madness of the digital slavery that we have become accustomed to! Some sort of closure to satiate the Dr. Faustus within who sold his soul to Mephistopheles.
Then a flash of light and silence, all pervading silence that sucks me into it – forever!