So long...
Its 2:30 A.M. Roop Nagar is a desolate neighborhood at this hour. Jay, a boy in his teens, is sluggishly walking in the middle of the road. Neither too thin nor too fat, decently tall, dressed in a mismatched array of clothes, his pace seems to suggest he’s in deep thought. Both hands in their respective trouser pockets, he walks; eyes looking somewhere at a spot near his feet, which seemed to move as if guided by nothing in particular; following a sensory whim of their owner. The motion seemed effortless, yet weighed down as if every step was preceded by a contemplating query-why?
Jay had no clue where he was going. He had sneaked out of his hostel room after he had felt an ‘indescribable feeling’. He had felt like crying. No; not the wail of a hurt animal, but the muffled sobs of a psychopath who does not want to admit to himself that he has a problem; that of a criminal who hasn’t yet been discovered, who must preserve his secret. But Jay had never granted himself the luxury of questioning himself.
He had felt awful.
He had felt like crying.
He had blamed it on the room.
The yellow paint, newspapers peeling off the windows, the disheveled state of his belongings lying all across the room-yes; it was the room. Jay had convinced himself. Again. This was one thing he was good at. Eighteen years of permitting himself the denial to question his emotions had made him an expert at the art of evasion. He did not know what he felt- he just ‘felt’. He would buy some fresh chart papers tomorrow and replace the newspapers on the room windows with them. Yes; that would make the shanty hovel livable. But presently, all he could do was escape the room for sometime. Now that he was out in the open, he was trying not to think. The room was left behind…he should not have had that clenched feeling now. No; its just the room after all…just the room...JUST THE ROOM!
“Need help, Kid?”
Jay spun around; coming back to his senses, he realized he had absolutely no clue where he was. The place was pitch black.
“Need help, Kid?”
“Who…who is it?”
“Ah! Me? I’m nobody. Literally. I didn’t mean to scare you; just that you’d shouted something about the room. You seem lost. Need help?”
“It’s…too dark…”
The ensuing flare of a matchstick made him jump. He only had a momentary glimpse of his companion. It was an urchin, propped up against a dustbin.
“That’s all I had kid; the last ‘un. I’m afraid there’s no more light,” he paused “just as well...there never really is…”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh; care to listen; do you? Come; sit. I’ll tell you”
Jay thought for a moment, and sat down beside the urchin. He was glad he had something to do. He was away from the room; at least.
“There really is no light, kid. Let me tell you my story. As far back as my memory takes me, I see myself wondering at the futility of it all. Life, in particular. I had potential; I had capability, I had resources…but I was never happy.
“People always said one must live for a purpose. A higher purpose. Not merely earning a huge fortune; not only being renowned…not only inventing stuff, researching new theories, winning battles…but something beyond…something higher…a higher purpose…
“I imagined how it would be to be immensely rich; the vision seemed good…fulfilling…but I was dissuaded and brought back to my senses by the common adjectival connotation used with the very word- filthy rich. And I thought some more. That higher purpose seemed nowhere in sight. I remember myself as a student at school…then at college…then at my workplace…I thought of aiming high; but then I tried to think beyond. And at the end, always the question was the same-stark, naked in totality- where’s the higher purpose? What use is it all, anyways? That aimlessness, that lack of direction haunted me; crawled within me...rhythmically resonating in every breath…then came a day when I was fired from my job. I wasn’t particularly sad. No more than I usually was. That was the day I started in the pursuit of the purpose. And here I am today. In bliss. I know, Kid. Now I do. Trust me on this. There’s no purpose. That, indeed, is the only purpose- to live aimlessly. Others would put in effort, struggle, suffer…and maybe they’ll reach somewhere…me? I’ll do nothing…I’ll just sit here and wait for death to come…but ultimately, we’ll all die...how does it matter? There’s no purpose…”
Jay sat still. He was horrified. His eyes were closed, and he wasn’t listening anymore. He knew what sat beside him was the ultimate degradation a human form could achieve-consummate filth.
Jay sat still. He was crying, and he did not know he was. He was looking back. Within, and back. He had wanted to achieve things as a kid. Winning competitions…topping the class…and sometimes he had had his moments of glory…of joy…but then he had been exposed to that blatantly sadistic philosophy of having to live for ‘a higher purpose’. Nobody ever defined it; the only way to reach it seemed to be self-immolation. Want nothing; be detached; aim for seclusion…everything material was evil…and ever since, whenever he lost in a pursuit, he consoled himself by saying that he didn’t care…these worldly achievements didn’t matter to him…that he seeked ‘a higher purpose’…he often said it out loud; in desperate attempts to muffle his internal shouts that wanted him to be angry at himself for having lost…and wanted him to make an attempt at improving himself…at being a winner…NO! seeking the ‘purpose’ was much more easier…and it brought him that sense of calm…a sense of being above the others…others who just wanted to win…to be better at doing things…to improve...to forever keep moving…to seek perfection in themselves…to forever compete…
Tears rolled down his cheeks. His whole life traversed in front of his eyes. He had been conceited…blaming others for his failures…hating everyone else’s achievements…never attempting to earn any of his own; still being jealous of anybody; anybody who was good…he had mastered the art of evading himself. He never had to question his thought; his emotions. If he felt bad, it was because others tried to show him down…if he felt bad, it was because nobody understood him…if he felt bad, it was because he had no purpose…
But wasn’t the purpose way too simple?
To live, and not die while he was still alive?
He stood up.
“Thank you, baba.”
“For what?”
“For making me realize how much I love my room.”
Jay had no clue where he was going. He had sneaked out of his hostel room after he had felt an ‘indescribable feeling’. He had felt like crying. No; not the wail of a hurt animal, but the muffled sobs of a psychopath who does not want to admit to himself that he has a problem; that of a criminal who hasn’t yet been discovered, who must preserve his secret. But Jay had never granted himself the luxury of questioning himself.
He had felt awful.
He had felt like crying.
He had blamed it on the room.
The yellow paint, newspapers peeling off the windows, the disheveled state of his belongings lying all across the room-yes; it was the room. Jay had convinced himself. Again. This was one thing he was good at. Eighteen years of permitting himself the denial to question his emotions had made him an expert at the art of evasion. He did not know what he felt- he just ‘felt’. He would buy some fresh chart papers tomorrow and replace the newspapers on the room windows with them. Yes; that would make the shanty hovel livable. But presently, all he could do was escape the room for sometime. Now that he was out in the open, he was trying not to think. The room was left behind…he should not have had that clenched feeling now. No; its just the room after all…just the room...JUST THE ROOM!
“Need help, Kid?”
Jay spun around; coming back to his senses, he realized he had absolutely no clue where he was. The place was pitch black.
“Need help, Kid?”
“Who…who is it?”
“Ah! Me? I’m nobody. Literally. I didn’t mean to scare you; just that you’d shouted something about the room. You seem lost. Need help?”
“It’s…too dark…”
The ensuing flare of a matchstick made him jump. He only had a momentary glimpse of his companion. It was an urchin, propped up against a dustbin.
“That’s all I had kid; the last ‘un. I’m afraid there’s no more light,” he paused “just as well...there never really is…”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh; care to listen; do you? Come; sit. I’ll tell you”
Jay thought for a moment, and sat down beside the urchin. He was glad he had something to do. He was away from the room; at least.
“There really is no light, kid. Let me tell you my story. As far back as my memory takes me, I see myself wondering at the futility of it all. Life, in particular. I had potential; I had capability, I had resources…but I was never happy.
“People always said one must live for a purpose. A higher purpose. Not merely earning a huge fortune; not only being renowned…not only inventing stuff, researching new theories, winning battles…but something beyond…something higher…a higher purpose…
“I imagined how it would be to be immensely rich; the vision seemed good…fulfilling…but I was dissuaded and brought back to my senses by the common adjectival connotation used with the very word- filthy rich. And I thought some more. That higher purpose seemed nowhere in sight. I remember myself as a student at school…then at college…then at my workplace…I thought of aiming high; but then I tried to think beyond. And at the end, always the question was the same-stark, naked in totality- where’s the higher purpose? What use is it all, anyways? That aimlessness, that lack of direction haunted me; crawled within me...rhythmically resonating in every breath…then came a day when I was fired from my job. I wasn’t particularly sad. No more than I usually was. That was the day I started in the pursuit of the purpose. And here I am today. In bliss. I know, Kid. Now I do. Trust me on this. There’s no purpose. That, indeed, is the only purpose- to live aimlessly. Others would put in effort, struggle, suffer…and maybe they’ll reach somewhere…me? I’ll do nothing…I’ll just sit here and wait for death to come…but ultimately, we’ll all die...how does it matter? There’s no purpose…”
Jay sat still. He was horrified. His eyes were closed, and he wasn’t listening anymore. He knew what sat beside him was the ultimate degradation a human form could achieve-consummate filth.
Jay sat still. He was crying, and he did not know he was. He was looking back. Within, and back. He had wanted to achieve things as a kid. Winning competitions…topping the class…and sometimes he had had his moments of glory…of joy…but then he had been exposed to that blatantly sadistic philosophy of having to live for ‘a higher purpose’. Nobody ever defined it; the only way to reach it seemed to be self-immolation. Want nothing; be detached; aim for seclusion…everything material was evil…and ever since, whenever he lost in a pursuit, he consoled himself by saying that he didn’t care…these worldly achievements didn’t matter to him…that he seeked ‘a higher purpose’…he often said it out loud; in desperate attempts to muffle his internal shouts that wanted him to be angry at himself for having lost…and wanted him to make an attempt at improving himself…at being a winner…NO! seeking the ‘purpose’ was much more easier…and it brought him that sense of calm…a sense of being above the others…others who just wanted to win…to be better at doing things…to improve...to forever keep moving…to seek perfection in themselves…to forever compete…
Tears rolled down his cheeks. His whole life traversed in front of his eyes. He had been conceited…blaming others for his failures…hating everyone else’s achievements…never attempting to earn any of his own; still being jealous of anybody; anybody who was good…he had mastered the art of evading himself. He never had to question his thought; his emotions. If he felt bad, it was because others tried to show him down…if he felt bad, it was because nobody understood him…if he felt bad, it was because he had no purpose…
But wasn’t the purpose way too simple?
To live, and not die while he was still alive?
He stood up.
“Thank you, baba.”
“For what?”
“For making me realize how much I love my room.”
posted by Abhimanyu at
1:10 AM
3 Comments
