Posts Tagged ‘living’

The Perpendicular Universe The Cubicle

I dream for an open field. There is a wild run in me. But there is no ground to tramp on. I don’t see it. Even if it is there, I am blind to it.

My life is a cubicle. It begins in walls and ends right there. I am bound by the charms of the green. But I wish it was a meadow, and that I was free to gallop wild. Free to dart my way to search the end of it.

Every day begins with me trying to adjust my fading eyes to a computer screen. I am locked. I am compelled to. There is no escape from the life I have chosen. If there is, then maybe I am blind to that too. Or pretending that I can’t see, because I have a sea of responsibilities to swim into. Or make a living out of this dead.

Day in and day out I follow the same ritual of turning the office desktop on, checking my mails for updates, attending meetings to show the ground I have covered, having lunch when I am not hungry, making small talks that are pointless and will be forgotten, working like a workhorse to make people in the other corner of the world happy, living a misery to help build someone something I don’t give a shit about, slaying the universe’s most useful gem – time just so that everything moves on and I age to perish one day, and then repeating the whole cycle again because there is no end to this.

What I live is misery. This is someone else’s dream. I am the tiniest mote to him. It wouldn’t matter to anyone if I fall one day. They will have someone to replace my body. Because my mind doesn’t reach anywhere. It is being forced to run in a mill, where churning thoughts is a curse and of no use to anyone.

I can feel the force of this psychotic world pulling me down. This isn’t gravity, No! This is the worst. It keeps on pulling you, one piece at a time, till there is nothing left. If you had a dream it would make sure you lose your mind. It would subject you to so much pressure that you would forget life is supposed to be easy. It would swallow you in its jaded shenanigans that you would not remember what real fun is supposed to be like. It would drown you into its silent waters, take you deep down to hell, and you would never know if there was supposed to be a heaven too.

I just wish there was no one that pulled my strings. That I create something because I feel like building. That I eat because I feel hungry. That I dance because I feel like dancing. That I look at a screen because I wish to surf and have fun. That I check my mails to see another world. That I play because I feel like having a blast. That I have talks that numb minds and emanate something useful every time I do. That I pamper myself because I deserve it.

But alas! I am stuck in a cubicle. My life is it.

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GoingWithTheFlow

I feel restless. As if the meaning of life has further inched its way into the dead blankets of obscurity. I am subconsciously aware of what I am doing. Just not sure why am I doing it. Every task I have taken, every job I did, reeks of a certain ‘way’ that someone from time has punched in my head. Placed into my way. Made it his own. I am ‘asked’ to tread on it. But why? Why didn’t they tell me why?

Why do you do a thing? Why do you do a particular kind of job? Who puts it into your head? To follow a certain thing? Why do you need to follow it in the first place?

Our lives are taught. Fetched, out of our own will, misled and misdirected just to engage ourselves in something meaningless and superficial. So that we don’t question back. So that we don’t bother look up into the sky for answers.

So puny I feel sometimes, not able to do anything about finding our creator. So many people who have access to what lies yonder, who are able to move freely in space, who defy gravity that keeps us together on ground, are so lucky, are so fortunate to be able to explore. If it is not about finding Him, it couldn’t be just about dying.

Humans are stereotyped engineers. Robots following orders from better and upgraded versions of other robots. No matter how much you know, how much you are aware about your exploit, you still cannot do anything about it. Just following, like puppets, every command fed in your head. So pointless our existence! Such meaningless our struggle for answers! Nothing drops by. Nothing makes it here. Nothing changes.

I wish to find You. I just wish, You take me away from all of this. I don’t care if it’s nothing but dark out there. I just wish to know the truth for once. For once I wish not to be lied to!

pointless

Often found myself, stuck, staring at meaningless images and pointless propaganda that my screen throws at me. Times when I am not around people, not having fun, and smothering myself with tasks that show no direction, I wonder what compelled me to do it in the first place. Zeroing in on to figurative, a bigger picture strays ahead that expunges the obvious.

Why are we doing this? What are we to achieve?

Our every act is directed towards nothingness, just another void where everything fades to incoherence. Makes me wonder we are just getting by. We are waiting for it to get over one day. If at the end of the tunnel, did we stop and look back for introspection, we would be surprised to find out, that all we ever did was breathe and survive. Created mundane, lived mundane, for the mundane. What did we really do?

You see our lives, our paths, have been defined by people all around us. Each road, each street, we traverse, our choices, drenched with decisions laid out by another earthly meaningless soul walking amongst us. That mortal has thrown a certain way in front of our eyes, and unfortunately our legs aren’t ears. They don’t listen. They don’t reason. They just walk.

No better way to put it than Leo Tolstoy:

The only absolute knowledge attainable by man is that life is meaningless.

The moment we saw the light for the first time, we became puppets. People who introduced us to the world taught us roads they have been following. Our judgments permeated in their perspective. From dropping a deuce, to combing our hair, from brushing our teeth to taking a bath, every act tainting of ‘a way’, we are supposed to blindly pursue. We go to school. We try to learn things, we don’t comprehend. We spend years to do that. All that precious time, just following something, since we didn’t really have a purpose then! We just have to, in simpler words, survive. We were too dumb to be able to sustain an era, or too immature to understand life – so the experts say. Well, we still don’t, do we?

We are walking on lines, our society drew. Do we have a goal? Are we supposed to just survive? Is that all?

We are only trying to earn a living. If there is nothing more to life than the intent to survive, why do we even bother? All we have to do is eat, sleep and repeat! Some say – we should give back. If we are to give the world something, let’s say an invention, why do they need it at all, and what for? So that they can live easily? Why is survival the penultimate truth?

What is the point of societal conventions then? Would it really matter if we ran destitute or died rich? Would it matter if we were caught in a perennial gloom or a sustained elation then? Would it matter if we lived our lives with or without regrets?

If we repeat a day, every act in it, inadvertently, who is to say that we lived wrong? Didn’t we just, I don’t know, survive another day? Besides who is to judge? What makes our creator a judge? Did you give us a purpose to live? Then how do you get to decide what we do is right or not? Then again, we didn’t ask for this!

We are simply sentient entities thrown into this planet to breathe.A small brain to delegate our creator’s work unconsciously. We are self-aware robots with lots of questions but with only human reasoning to overwhelm our doubts.

This life is a limbo. We must have been in a better place before. Now we are just living a lie, without a purpose, without a point with just a half-hearted wish to coexist, mostly following blind guys who claim to see.

Image

My reflection stared hard into my eyes. It was blurry, for tears began forming up. It said, “Don’t cry! Don’t cry! Be brave!” But I wouldn’t listen. I don’t listen to my reflection. I listen to nobody when my glass is brimming. All I remembered him saying was, “I saw my father in my room.”

A dear friend of mine lost the most important part of his life. His father. Tragedy hit him like a bullet. It was bound to collide as days of suffering suggested. He knew it. Things were not looking good for the past few months. He just hung on. With hope. He kept looking. He kept up his search. Solutions weren’t solutions. They were mere reflections of the bitter truth. Death – The bitter end to everything that breathes.

I wasn’t aware. For the past few weeks, he ran from clinics to hospitals, looking for every ray of light that read hope, with his unabated diligence to set things right and to make his dad stand on his feet again. I had no idea. Whilst I was busy living my life to the fullest, he was busy saving a life from waning. I wasn’t there at all. I was not even in the background. Estranged.

When things got serious I contacted him, only to be a part of his dismay. He mentioned how serious his father’s condition had become. Uncle was, in fact, in the hospital. When my friend came back home, he said he saw him there, standing in his room. He broke into tears on the phone. I didn’t know what to say. My tears simply connected his. It was a tough moment for him. I knew. I was there mentally. Standing next to him consoling, trying to flow with his tears.

I just felt impotent. Nothing I could do to reverse the event. I am no doctor. I am no God. I am nothing. I just felt so helpless. So powerless. Without an undo button. Yet, I reckoned all my options. Made couple of calls to see if miracles existed. Preposterous solutions came up. At such an hour, he was ready to hear anything. I was ready to believe anything. Whatever worked.

The next morning his dad passed away. I couldn’t react. He wrote to me, consumed by profound grief, how he thinks his dad would return anytime, that he had just gone out. How he might show up just like that and bring smiles to their faces!

I am aware how his house would be speaking of gloom. How it would reek of pain for days! How deafening the silence would be! How crazy the minds would think! How tasteless the food would seem! How sad their happy would be! I am well aware. I can empathize it all. For a moment, there is nothing alive. For days, weeks and months, nobody actually lives.

So many sleep-deprived nights. So much care. So much trouble taken. So many tears spent contemplating. So many nerves broken apprehending. All for nothing. All for naught.

I want to be a part of his misery. Just to be there. To be able to tell him that I am there. To hold his back upright. To see to it that he doesn’t fall. To listen to his hollow voice. To understand. To empathize. To let him dry out all his tears. To cry with him. To die with him. But I have these walls around me that wouldn’t let me leave. Had I been in a better room, I would have stood up and left without a second thought.

I remember when a dear friend faced a similar mishap back in my college days. I remember him telling me how he felt. While I listened to him, I cried incessantly. All his aspiration for his father, all his dreams that he knitted alongside him, all the future he created together, how it all shattered in a jiffy! Just like that! Life’s way of telling you – it is evanescent.

Sometimes I wonder what makes this life so short. What defines our confinements? Why can’t we live and just live? Why is there grief when somebody leaves? Why do we miss them when they do? What makes our strength to go on, so feeble? What changes our conviction to live? Death always screws things up. Why is He so jealous of the living?

I called home. I cried and cried for my friend’s loss. What bothered me more was the fact that I couldn’t be with him during his desperate times. What tore me to pieces was the fact that I couldn’t be a friend indeed.

I surmise, eventually, it doesn’t really matter that I made up my mind to visit. That eventually, I decided to be at my friend’s side but my plans didn’t pan out. That I cried for his loss. That I already became a shoulder when I heard the bad news. That I told my parents how bad I wanted to be with him. However, what matters in the end is, I wasn’t there when he needed me the most.

As I ramble across the shores of Chennai, waves look sad. They wouldn’t even reach my feet. They are silently aware of a great loss. They are trying to pay their tributes. My heart reaches out to Uncle’s soul. I just want him to understand how much his family fought for him. How hard they tried! How they spent sleepless nights and tearful days to bring him to life again! They did not fail. They did not succeed. His resistance was simply too strong.

My friend’s loss is shattering. I just hope nobody on this planet has to go through something tragic like that. Death makes living impossible. It has to learn to let people live without it.

But most importantly, ‘we’ have to learn to live around it.

I am finally able to get her out of my system. She is a withered memory now. I can’t believe it took me six long years to be able to do that. May be I wasn’t willing to let go. May be I liked my angst. I surmise, there was a loop open, which I closed deliberately to get rid of her memories, once and for all.

When I try to look back now, I just remember few wonderful moments. I don’t remember her face properly now. Just those events, they dangle like old faded memories. I know that those days happened, yet I don’t remember with whom they occurred. I recollect a hand in mine, but I am unable to put a face to it. Glad she withers each day. I am finally not reluctant to embrace something new.

I have started looking for new beginnings. I have successfully plucked the final thorn and taken the leap of faith. I feel like I am living now. Earlier it was like dying under a sealskin. Now I am bold and bare.

Sometimes I wonder, what made that possible. Did time heal me? Or did new faces overwhelm me? Whatever the reason might be, I am grateful that I have managed to climb up, dust off and rise up from the ashes of my defeat.

A fresher countenance has replaced hers. However, I am still a pawn and fate is still the king. Today, I have newer chalks with me and a duster to rub off the old.

What matters most is the fact that I am living and breathing again.