Move, moving, not moved on
Nature, for the most part, is all about finding the time to rest. Every element is trying really hard to stay as still as possible. From the rooted trees to the branched birds to the jumping macaques to the wild dogs in the jungle to the waves in the oceans to the floating celestial bodies. All of them are more interested in not moving. And if there is any lesson there to be learned, it’s this: maybe, just maybe, we need to make finding stillness the purpose behind our breathing.
Now that we are in the midst of possibly the greatest health crisis since Spanish Flu, it’s worth wondering how is a person supposed to stay sane indoors? Obviously, being alive is anytime better than being dead. Yet, if last year’s lockdown is anything to go by, people started losing their coins because they weren’t used to themselves. When you are out in the world, you get to act a lot. When you are confined to the four walls of your apartment, you are face to face with who you are. And that is an uncomfortable meeting on a daily basis. One way to break this is by embracing new hobbies: stuff that has always been of some interest to you but you never really put your mind to it. Once you choose, go find people who are passionate about it to learn from them. Simple. Let’s say, you choose pottery. Now just scroll through YouTube videos on the same subject, or find similar-minded folks on Instagram, and learn something new. No point going to Twitter.
In this universe, I am childless but in a different universe, I am a father of at least half a dozen kids, including triplets. Yes, the thought of having kids makes me uneasy, given the amount of responsibilities a baby puts you under but that fear carries an appeal that most parents don’t bother exploring. A child doesn’t know what is going on while the parents pretend to know what’s going on. As time passes by, the kid learns what’s going on while the parents get up to speed too. It’s a learning process for all the parties involved. Anyway, coming back to my parallel universe, I am a mini-Genghis Khan there with little to no worry about the many hassles associated with raising a humanling. They will do just fine, especially the triplets.
Now that we are on the august topic of child-bearing and child-rearing, let me highlight that the role of physical intimacy is largely downplayed in popular discourse. As if babies are sneezed out. There is a shroud of silence around it and understandably so. A couple, especially in the traditional setting, procreate to a large extent, not because they understand the dynamics of life. They are generally too young anyway. They get sucked into the societal mechanism because that’s what is expected of them. Interestingly, in many cultures, women choose to have a baby to get respite from sex only to eventually realize that sex was a better bargain than raising a baby. Nobody is to be singularly blamed here.
For a generation that is so weak at accepting reality, we certainly do spout a lot about truth. Convenient truths, more like. One of the biggest disappointments is to watch a person get ruined by their own beliefs. Just like we alter with time, our belief system must alter too, and so should our ideologies and ideas. Staying stuck in the past is only going to bring us closer to a swamp, not an oasis. If you feel you are completely in sync with who you are, then ask yourself a simple question: do I own my truth or do I let it own me?
Jargons, jargons everywhere, not a genuine phrase left. Take for instance, the new classic ‘move on’. People keep advising each other to move on—could be from a bad relationship or a bad situation or a bad job. Just move on and you will be great. How though? If moving on really helped, wouldn’t most of us be doing so in the first place? Well, the answer is complicated. Although our life is like a river, we aren’t. Moving on is our last resort because it’s the toughest thing to do. And by design, we are born to opt for the easier options first. She broke my heart (or worse, doesn’t know I exist), what should I do now? Move on, obviously. But you are going to do that only after taking a long detour that would deplete your time, energy, money and resources. Here’s a little secret that is not out yet: when people ask you to ‘move on’, it should translate to ‘move onto a bigger problem’. A more deserving problem, if you may. Thank you for attending my TED Sucks At Talking.
I am completing half a year in Mangalore today and to be brutally honest, I miss people. Never thought I’d admit it. In the past 6 months, I’ve hardly stepped out or met newer folks. It’s just me and this room with two windows—one that points towards the sea and another that points to a bush of nine tall trees. Anyhow, the reason I miss ‘friends’ is because I used to drop snarky comments and they wouldn’t mind at all. In fact, more often than not, they would laugh.
Let me give you some examples –
Me, as an empathetic friend: “Upsi, Palla told me you slipped on the balcony. Is the balcony OK?”
Me, as a supportive hobbyist: “Ninad, have you been talking to the cherry tomatoes in your garden? They seem unhappy.”
Me, as a quizmaster: “Sure, Govind, you can take one more guess. What’s your other terrible guess?”
Me, as a brother: “A mistake is a mistake, Sai, even if it happened once. Holocaust happened only once too but people still remember it.”
Me, as an advisor: “That woman isn’t for you, Vivek. You are better off as a lonely penguin in Planet Earth.”
What happens when a person is most definitely tired. Like tired of the highest order. Well, that person doesn’t give a shit anymore. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t give two dead rats about anything anymore—not his job, not his responsibilities, not even his family or friends. He is done. He is just waiting to check out. But he is so tired that he can’t go to sleep either. He is as sleepless as a person can be. He is as tired as a person can be. There is nothing left for him. Nothing of him is left, too.
You’d often find the most profound stuff randomly, from the most unexpected folks around you. This month, that happened to be my dad. I was talking to him over the phone and briefly touched upon the pandemic in India. And the septuagenarian grumpy old man immediately said, “Everybody is dying except me.” Whoa. Which sounded sombre as well as funnier in Tulu.