In the last few years, a strange melancholy has set itself upon me...especially when it relates to the matter of life and of death.
Let's take a step back....
Did you know that as you read this sentence, your heart beat at least 4 times?
Or a billion neurons and synapses fired in a precise military sequence, for you to make sense of what you just read? Or that I typed this use a whole host of muscle memory? Or ....
Get the drift ?
Now the body and the brain, and the immortal atoms (which make up your body and are probably here since the Big Bang), and the lovely rings of Saturn....are all so impossiblŷ magical...it makes a bloody atheist like me make me want to believe in a God...and yet...
The magic of this universe is so phantom like....that I am humbled and awed by its signature.
If in all of this, you accept that your body is magical, do you? Let's assume you do. If you read modern neuroscience, you realise that free will and volition are such over-exaggerated myths... Your body knows exactly how to replace the skin you burnt yesterday while cooking the egg...it knows exactly how to throw out toxins in the form of urine...it knows how to rebuilt parts of your brain...
And then you combine these facts...and you realise that your body and the universe around you know what is best for you and the overall world...
And then you have lung cancer....and your body still tries to repair itself, but fails...and then it decides to end the game by giving up...one organ at a time....
It knows precisely when it wants to die...when it needs to die...when the last breath stops...and the lungs no longer bellow....
Now...why would you want to fight this natural process with medicines and the artificial props....
I sit and wonder...it's bothered me a lot in the last 15 years....I know the answer...and it's a violent one.
The atheist in me says a silent unanswered prayer.
Location:Raheja Vihar Circular Road,Mumbai,India
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3 comments:
Part- 1
I’ve been reading your blog for a while now- do they still call it stalking? I am safe and happily married cliché with a daughter (your virtue is virtually safe). I was a blogger when I was. After reading a couple of your posts, I wanted to touch upon a subject close to me. Apologies upfront for the length of this comment (essay in not less than 200 words?) and confusion of my thoughts which is directly proportional.
I realize nothing much changes except that a person grows old physically. Do they carry wisdom through the years they live in? I don’t think so. I mean, how else would you justify those who refuse to listen or understand ‘our’ (Gen X or Y or ‘n’) ways of living? Who talks about Indian culture, civilization and traditions anymore in a highest pedestal- when there’s enough rape and pillage which states otherwise? Or do we just say that, ”oh, Ravan abducted Sita, so it’s in our culture”? Or that Sati and dowry was in our culture? What part of the culture should we be proud of? The fact that women were so successfully oppressed to the extent that it flows in their DNA now? Any ‘good Indian woman’ would probably think that any other way to live is sinning against the ‘man’kind who by the way is god- not even a demi god.
I ask- when we bring up daughters- don’t we want them to top college, go to good schools, do what they want to, and make them realize their abilities and potential? We do all that because at some level we think of ourselves as the ‘progressive’ family with open minds. All we need is the daughters to understand despite all that we give, is that, they need to know their limits and get married to a good ‘zouth’ Indian Brahmin(or whatever shitty caste) boy and choose to stay at home with pleasure if that’s what the hero wants ultimately. Sounds familiar? So what happens to the spirit of that woman? Is she programmed to have any feelings at all? Oh apologies- I forget we are progressive here- Of course we have feelings, but we are not to express them, lest they should make you look cheap and sensitive. Shouldn’t we all be strong at all levels? I don’t claim to be a feminist (and maybe I am) but I am not a puritan. I do understand the limitations of a utopian world.
The gifts left by a Bach or Tchakovsky, Kafka or Homer can only give you so much of solace. But do they have the ability to erase the pain inflicted by the most powerful beasts on the earth? Or does it over the years, give the strength to overcome all that pain because time is supposed to be a f---ing healer? Do people understand that no matter what, we still look for survival and acceptance by the others? That a shadow here or a leery gaze there, we are back to sorting ourselves and giving ourselves some psychological pep talk- basically become personalized, customized shrinks to cater to our needs. I am a positive person otherwise (D-uh! Don’t get me wrong)- I do everything and more than an average person does including giving it back to the society. I smile and it’s not fake. I laugh and it’s not drama. I am probably much better than 94% of the population. Do I feel great about it? Not really. –Scrap that. It doesn’t matter! Who cares really? Do you know when I am walking past you, all the myriad of emotions that run through me?
Part 2 continued in another comment. I did not realize there was a character limit.
Part-2
After all this, can I cry? No- I can’t, because I picked up the pieces and moved on. What did that make me? An unemotional idiot who cannot be sensitive anymore to anybody else. Do I like who I am? I am the most narcissistic person ever living today.
At this juncture- what am I doing? Trying not to spoil the next generation with my progressive thinking. In this whole essay that I have written which is probably painful $hit, what points am I looking at?
1. How do you help all ‘participants’ of rape? I have absolutely no clue.
2. Can raped people walk up to a friend/philosopher/guide or god and tell them of the ordeal- a big NO (Maybe yes to god because he or she doesn’t say anything back!). How do you identify people with needs?
3. Can there be something that can really, really make them forget about the whole incident? I don’t know, but I would love to know.
4. Can I help other ‘survivors’? No- I am not that positive a person and I promise you, it may not be in this life either.
5. Can I kill the other party? I don’t have the strength to look into this persons’ eye.
6. Did it ruin my life? No, it did not. I achieved a lot so far and actually do consider myself lucky. I am just more cynical than any other b@st@rd on earth.
7. Am I protecting my near and dear ones by not coming out with it? No- I just don’t want others who know me to think of me as some kind of victim. I mean think about it, here you are hanging out with friends, catching some movies, probably have a drink and tell them the story of your life one fine day- can we then do this all over again with no prejudice? I couldn’t!
What happens in the end? I was only 8.
I am just other part of history which was never reported. Should I feel thankful or grateful to a husband who’s been the most supportive individual and a gem of a man? I don’t! He got more than what he could have asked for. But for me, I could have gotten much less than what I could have asked for. It was way too easy to get it wrong and I just got way too lucky I guess. This is perhaps, the first time in my life that I allowed myself to rant without getting into the solution oriented mode. Why the heck should we need thoughts and feelings eh?
I leave you with these thoughts (I urge you to not publish it but that’s not in my control). You are also probably right in thinking that I am a coward in using the anonymous tag instead of a decent mail ID and a blog link that I do own. The spirit of the above words is more important to me than a mere name.- By the way, walking the part of dead is probably more difficult than death itself. And in real life, I give more importance to grammar/spelling and punctuation!
Again- apologies for an anon essay.
amen!
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