(Un) Meaning of Life

For the past few days, I have been lamenting about not being able to go home this Diwali. I considered it extremely unfair that circumstances surrounding me at this juncture would make me stay away from all the celebrations this year. It is strange, I understand that there are more significant things in life that need immediate attention and I should really be concentrating on clearing the bigger picture, but all of last week and the weeks preceding that bothered me to no end, about the fact that I wouldn’t celebrate diwali at home.

A couple of days before Diwali, some friends and I went out at night, trying to make ourselves feel better about the entire thing. Saw something there, a common sight for many, but because of the state I was in, it cleared my vision somewhat, about the futility of my woes.

Right next to where we had parked our car, stood a night security guard, on duty to guard one of the many undertakings around. He stood talking to someone; perhaps one of the bosses, sitting in his car…it was something extremely normal which wouldn’t catch anyone’s attention under regular circumstances. But then, my state of mind at that time seems to have carried a magnetic pull to normal things and finding in them something to get depressed about.

What worried me that evening were the old man’s age and his occupation. There was something grossly incongruous about the whole thing. I don’t wish to contemplate exactly how old he was, but I have a theory about people reaching past a certain age, and the life they should live then.

I believe, that people work (supposedly work in some cases), for a better part of their lives. How much they accomplish during this lifetime of working is not of consequence. It is a personal goal they all set for themselves. But then, regardless of the degree of richess (or rags) they achieve, there comes an age, when they should not be expected to work to live (“to live” being of paramount importance). Something makes me see a lot of people above and below that age, and justifies and un-justifies their struggle with life. I understand that this is not a very objective way of seeing things, but that’s how my mind works and I can’t seem to want to change it.

This is one of the reasons why I get terribly disturbed every time I see old destitutes. Like the other day when I was cribbing about the fact that I was out stuck in the rain and my friends back home were the least bothered. When the rain abated slightly, I started to walk back, all the time feeling more and more irritated and upset at people. And just when I did not need more upset, I came across a frail old woman making her way through the rain, a sheet of plastic covering her head and hand clutching a knee that was too old to walk anymore. I wanted to ignore her and walk on...but I couldn’t and I didn’t. How I dealt with that situation isn’t something I want to get into right now, because there in again lays a discussion of objectivity. A couple of steps down I saw another old man walking on crutches, which were too heavy for his old body to support. And some more steps down I saw an old couple, polyethene covering their heads, walking towards something /somewhere noone bothers about.

What is it about this life that makes it so miserable for some? And why are those of us, who are more fortunate than others, full of insignificant miseries governing our lives? Is it fair that the old security guard has to stay awake all night while the rest of the company he is guarding is fast asleep? Is it fair that an old woman has to take shelter from the rain under a plastic sheet and use one hand to hold it from falling off her head and the other to support the lifeless knee? Is it fair that I must feel sorry for myself for not being with my family this diwali when I celebrated it with some people who are like family?

And the biggest unfairness of it all, these people will keep on with their activities because they do not have a choice, and people like me will keep feeling sorry knowing fully well, there’s not a thing I can do for them.

While I keep letting my insignificant miseries govern my life, wondering why I have been chosen for all this sorrow.

so then, i begin to write here

i have been contemplating this for a while now... but i always preferred pieces of paper to this... my reasons for this transition are unclear... as are most things that i write about...

who knows what this progresses to... or where it ends...

and as far as the title to my blog goes... here's something that i read..will elaborate upon it later... for those who understand... i am sure we share our secret smiles...

"I still think Connie was a human man, a very, very good one--but a man. I have been wrong in my judgments many times before; if now I am ignorant and blind, I'm sorry, but it's no new thing. If that should be the case, though, it means I have had great privileges in my life, perhaps more so than any man alive today. Because it means that on the fields and farms of England, on the airstrips of the desert and the jungle, in the hangars of the Persian Gulf and on the tarmacs of the southern islands, I have walked and talked with God."


Round the Bend
Nevil Shute