Complicating Conversation

All of humankind's efforts, everything that we do, is directly or indirectly to escape death--to somehow live beyond the time given for us to occupy this physical space. I understand that this idea is neither original, nor very revolutionary, neither particularly enlightening, but here it is.

We want to be remembered-by someone, for something, after we cease to be. So we raise children, so that someone will carry our names, and our genes, and some broken part of us even when we are dead. We make friends, we marry, and we shun a solitary life, because we want somebody to be our witness-someone to see, and remember that we once were like so. We revere our dead, insist that we show them respect, and in some spaces, even pray to them, their death being qualifier enough for this reverence.

All media is there today because of this one primitive need of humankind-everything- TV, newspapers, radio, cinema, blogs- are in someway or the other ensuring that humankind is not forgotten. They all work to enforce this myth of immortality that we seemingly have achieved.

So we build elaborate discourses on how much we have progressed, how much distance we have covered since human memory stabilized. We are less concerned with where this distance covered leads us to, but we are hoping that it wouldn't be something as banal as extinction. The problem is, that we can only hope.

If I Traded It All...

Him: Didn't see you at the bday party
me: was wrestling with an assignment
=/
still am
Him: won or lost?
me: the battle's stil on...
the tragedy of my life is that i cannot work unless it is the 11th hour
and what's worse, i even wait for 11.55 to start
Him: Join the bandwagon!
=D
me: seems like i'm joining too many of them
yesterday it was the league of failure psychotherapy patients
today, it is the cronic last minute maniacs
i think i need to stop, introspect, and then decide that its all a play of maya, and go to himalayas to meditate
Him: Well, you have to take the most favourite thing along and abandon it there!
=D
Ready for the deal? That is how they do it
me: hmmmm
for that i'll have to make up my mind about what my favourite thing is
Him: true true
what is it, if I may ask?
me: i cant even decide if my fav colour is, earthy brown, olive green or the grey of rain clouds, u expect me to know what my fav thing is???!

When one is bowed down by assignments, and a sneaking suspicion that one has a suppressed masochistic alter that is threatening to come out, straining at the tight chords of self importance fueled by years of inane education and an insipid life, these conversations at 3.30 in the morning make perfect sense. In fact, they are sustenance.

But when one reflected on the question at a saner hour in the day, and with an insaner state of existence, one realized the depth of that seemingly innocent question.

"Well, you have to take the most favourite thing along and abandon it there! Ready for the deal?"

Is one ready to give up one's favourite thing as a price of calm in a cold wilderness? But then, what IS one's favourite thing? The first picture that comes is one's parents...but one already compromised their love and their dreams for one, so that one could pursue a career that one loved, and they mistrusted. So that career then? But then, one suddenly realises that one has compromised one's career so that one could do what one's parents wanted...no, that is putting it harshly...one decided to walk on the bridge's edge...choosing to risk a hurtle down to that colourless abyss, at a single mis-step than take the safe path to compromised life. So then, what is one's favourite thing?

When one was a kid, someone one asked, what is the one thing that you'd take if you were to go to a different planet to live. Without much hesitation, one answered one's diary. But then came the rain that flooded the memories and washed away all the episodes of one's recorded life and one wondered if that was a sign. So one "set the Polaroids afire, and burnt half one's brain". So what now?

Sigh. The funny thing about life is, the most difficult questions are the most simplest ones. Your favourite thing...one is asked that question all the time, one answers that question all the time...but does one really, truly ever know for sure? What is one's favourite thing...that thing that one would die for, maybe even kill for. What is the one thing that one won't trade?

Then one realised...

If one had that kind of self-realisation, one wouldn't have to go to himalayas then. If one had all the answers, one wouldn't be alive. There would be nothing to live for

So is one ready for the deal...no, not yet. One still has to chose between rain clouds and soap bubbles...