What do I want and what do I need? Till I was 23, when most of the decisions of my life went by conventions, I did not have to think. Life was superb. Apart from the occasional pangs of insecurity, I was happy. Thought less. Enjoyed stupid movies which I absolutely abhor now. Played sports to my heart's content. Loafed around with friends. Could not have had a better life.
The last years have been, for the lack of a better word, weird. Every year, I have had to decide on something or the other. Which would be quite defining. Significant. In almost all of those decisions, my life could have taken two different paths, different trajectories and different expectations.
I made the choices. I am responsible for all of them. But till about three years back, I never thought about this question. The answer may lie in a single word. Peace. And how do I get it? I don't know.
The later half of the twenties has been exhausting and a test of my mental strength and a time for serious consideration of values and of facing up to some hard-hitting realities of life. At the very least, it has been quite tiresome. Hardly exhilarating. Hardly like the life I had. I am consumed with a certain degree of restlessness - an unharnessed energy. Sometimes, I think, given a conducive situation, I can simply hurtle myself headlong into something and travel at breakneck speed towards - maybe oblivion, maybe glory.
But for what?
If I was a man of limited capabilities and limited ambition, I think I would have been supremely happy. At this juncture, I need to know whether I have it in me or I am just another in the crowd who would be happy with what life has to dish out rather than trying to extract something out of life. The restlessness is palpable. My friends can feel it. So can I. They sense a bit of urgency hitherto unknown in me. I, on the other hand, sense a lack of purpose. I have to break free, but from what - is a question I cannot seem to find an answer to.
Till that time, let me continue to rust in my world of illusions and increasingly keep on pushing the accelerator till I slam into a wall. To break it or to get broken. Either of them will serve the purpose. Happy in death or ecstatic in life.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Monday, November 16, 2009
Burning Fingers
I have hardly learnt from my mistakes. And I seriously doubt whether I ever will. But for some strange inexplicable reason, I cannot seem to do things otherwise.
Actually I refuse to play by the rules of the game. Specially when it comes to a woman. There are strict guidelines to adhere to. Certain things are acceptable while certain things would surely spell disaster. Naturally, I have an affinity for beckoning disaster.
The first and cardinal rule of the game is that you should never reveal your cards till you are sure of a win. Experience has taught me that this is something I should not try much to experiment with. But, as is always the case with me, I simply do not believe in conventions. So, if you let her know, that you indeed have a stake and that you might actually be thinking, then you have most likely shot yourself in the foot - or the heart. Yet, I choose not to hold myself back.
Foolish. I know. Stupid. I agree. Yet, can you find fault with either my intention or my intensity? Do those count ? I don't know. Someday, I hope it will. To the right person. If ever, there be one.
The other rule of the game is to hold the moment by the scruff and push it through. Never allow time to think. Apparently, it takes away the spontaneity and makes it a rational process rather than an instinctive one. And rational choices are hardly interesting choices. But choices nonetheless. Yet, I choose to allow time. For only if something stands the test of time, only then the exploration is worth it. Only then, would it be immenseley exciting to look at life and live.
Ridiculous. I would think so. Idiotic. Maybe. But will the wait ever be worth it ? Am I actually romanticizing something or is there an element of reality in it? For, the waits have always been long, agonizing, draining and ultimately futile.
The best part is a burnt lost finger can only heal. Otherwise it was already burnt.
Actually I refuse to play by the rules of the game. Specially when it comes to a woman. There are strict guidelines to adhere to. Certain things are acceptable while certain things would surely spell disaster. Naturally, I have an affinity for beckoning disaster.
The first and cardinal rule of the game is that you should never reveal your cards till you are sure of a win. Experience has taught me that this is something I should not try much to experiment with. But, as is always the case with me, I simply do not believe in conventions. So, if you let her know, that you indeed have a stake and that you might actually be thinking, then you have most likely shot yourself in the foot - or the heart. Yet, I choose not to hold myself back.
Foolish. I know. Stupid. I agree. Yet, can you find fault with either my intention or my intensity? Do those count ? I don't know. Someday, I hope it will. To the right person. If ever, there be one.
The other rule of the game is to hold the moment by the scruff and push it through. Never allow time to think. Apparently, it takes away the spontaneity and makes it a rational process rather than an instinctive one. And rational choices are hardly interesting choices. But choices nonetheless. Yet, I choose to allow time. For only if something stands the test of time, only then the exploration is worth it. Only then, would it be immenseley exciting to look at life and live.
Ridiculous. I would think so. Idiotic. Maybe. But will the wait ever be worth it ? Am I actually romanticizing something or is there an element of reality in it? For, the waits have always been long, agonizing, draining and ultimately futile.
The best part is a burnt lost finger can only heal. Otherwise it was already burnt.
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