Life, or something close to it.

"It seems a shame," the Walrus said,
"To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"The butter's spread too thick!"

"I weep for you," the Walrus said:
"I deeply sympathize."
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

"O Oysters," said the Carpenter,
"You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?'
But answer came there none--
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd eaten every one.
- An excerpt from The Walrus and The Carpenter by Lewis Caroll


When times are harsh and the days are bad, it doesn't take much time for them to get worse. This seems to be the inevitable protocol of bad luck, bad times lead, without fail, to worse times. There is no reprieve, no concession but a constant order of inescapable misery that keep piling up till even a hazy ray of light seems to be as bright as the sun, and we confuse a sliver of hope to be the answer to our prayers, God has finally remembered us. We offer our thanks, we offer our praise. We never wonder why he always lets us go through all that suffering for so long. Can we dare ask what was he waiting for? No, by then our strength to question has been replaced by a willingness to feel grateful to anyone or anything that’ll throw the dog a bone. An angel of god, he'll be to us and we'll be his debtors, his slaves. And god will feel good about himself on having helped an insignificant little man, and we’ll be thankful to our true savior for rescuing us. But what of all the agony we endured, what of the eternity of unanswered prayers, of unjust punishment. ‘Them? Well they’re all in the past. What you need to do is look ahead.” We’ll agree. We’ll keep quiet. We’ll follow.

The fisherman knew about this. Knew about it through experience. Years and years of unwanted experience. Seven years ago, he didn’t catch a single fish for 23 days. He stopped praying on the 24th day. He didn’t catch a fish for another 12 days. When he finally had a decent outing on the 37th day, he wasn't grateful to anyone, he didn’t thank anyone. He ate. Weeks of living off borrowed money, saving every penny, eating only when absolutely necessary had left him hungry. So he ate. If there was someone he should to thank when things are going right, he had every right to blame this entity when things aren’t going well. Since, he had decided not to blame anyone for all the misery he had to go through, he would not thank anyone for his happiness. If he had to go through all his pain alone, he would enjoy every bit of his pleasure alone. He would definitely not share his fish.

Days had just turned worse again. He still liked to say days were just bad, not because he was an optimist but because he knew there was whole level of worse still encroaching. Years and years of unwanted experience. The glass is never half full. It had been two weeks since he had caught anything significant. Today, all that might change. Though he didn’t pray for good luck or divine blessing, he still hoped.

He was out in the sea before the break of dawn. His small boat gently swaying with the waves. He rowed to a calmer area, with his rope already cast, he waited. The hours passed by. The sun was vengeful, with all its fury concentrated on the small boat out in the sea. He took a gulp of water, careful not to drink too much. Time kept moving on. 'This used to be a good spot', he thought, 'have I grown too old? Can’t I tell where I can catch a fish and where I can’t? Is this what it has come to? How can I call myself a fisherman anymore?' The water was almost over. This was the ultimate joke, he thought. There was water as far as he could see, but it was as if he were stranded in a desert. There were so many things he could’ve done in life, but…. It was about time he headed back. 'Two weeks and a day', he thought. Then he felt a tug, but it wasn’t just a tug, it was a pull and a strong pull at that. And in that moment he felt true happiness, there was no past, no future, no God, no Devil, no Right, no Wrong. For that moment, life was now, there was no other time no other place. The world shrunk to him, his boat and the fish. He pulled, the fished pulled back, he pulled harder. One pull at a time, slowly he won the battle. He was a man, adept at his job, the fish was just a fish.

It was a big fish, would get him a good price at the market. Should he wait? There may be another one to be caught. But it was getting dark, and with no water things might turn ugly. He will have to head back he decided and hope tomorrow is just as good as today, or maybe even better. He smiled, let’s not get carried away.

'Please let me go.' he heard. There was nobody around, except him and the fish. Was that the wind? It sounded very clear to be the wind. Was he going insane? Slowly the fish opened its mouth again, 'Please, let me go' it said. 'I have a family.' the fisherman kept quiet, it wasn’t the wind. The fish pleaded again. 'I won’t' he said, not I can't, but I won’t. Because he could, all he had to do was, catch it and throw it back, but he wouldn’t. 'I will not, throw away what I’ve caught. Regardless of whether you are actually talking or just a hallucination. You have a family you say, so did every other fish I’ve caught, if I let you go and feel good that I sacrificed my stomach for a life I will have to endure the guilt of the hundreds of lives I didn’t save. And I feel no guilt, you are like every one of them, by which I do not condemn you but praise them. And I will do what I want to, not because it’s an obligation but because it’s a choice. Even now, when my life seems desperate, I still have a choice. I have survived two weeks on failed expeditions another day will not make a difference. But I choose not to. I choose to, to put it honestly, kill you so I can survive in my terms. I will not patronize you and tell you how sorry I am, because I am not. I feel no guilt or sorrow in having to do what I do. Because what I do is not wrong. You might think it is, you might I am a monster but that is irrelevant. I know what I am and what I do. If I feel sorry for taking your life, I will in essence condemn my entire existence. What I do is not wrong and I am not sorry. I am a fisherman, this is what I do. You're having a bad day. And when days are going bad, it doesn't long for it to turn worse. I know through experience.'
“But I have done you no wrong. Is your need for a few pennies of more value than my existence? Isn’t my life worth more than you being able to afford a good meal.” the fish pleaded.

“No, you have done me no wrong. But this is not your punishment. I do not intend to kill you because you deserve it for your sins. I am not here to issue judgment, no I am here to fish. Me killing you is not about you, it’s about me. This is what I do. Your life is not more valuable than a good meal, not to me, not to all those who will bargain with all their might to get a piece of you. You may disagree, but we have our own perspectives. What you think is the greatest blasphemy, it is for me a daily routine.”

“Have you no mercy?”

“No. Not when I am asked to think that my life’s work is a business entangled in cruel murder, not when I am asked to show mercy that will make me question the work I do. I am a ruthless murderer to you, I am a mere fisherman to the world.”

“You are a heartless man. I pray to god you die in the worst circumstances.”

“I am an honest man. I spoke the truth. I do not wish to mock you with gentle words. You deserve the truth. I hope your prayers are answered.”

The fisherman ate a hearty meal that night. He died three weeks later. For once god was quick to listen.

"When I was still a rather precocious young man, I already realized most vividly the futility of the hopes and aspirations that most men pursue throughout their lives.”- Albert E.


The world spans 12,756 kms in diameter; I am less than six feet tall. The universe has been in existence for more than 12 billion years, I will be 22 years old soon. The world itself is no bigger than a miniscule pebble in the universe. It is to the universe, what a grain of sand is to us: irrelevant. And you and I share this small piece of rock, which meanders around the sun in weary repetition, with six billion other people. So is there even a sliver of a chance for us to attach some sort of significance to our lives.

Nothing lasts in this world. In the long run, everything comes to an end. Death is the ultimate tragedy, the final victory of time over our fragile bodies. Inevitable, unavoidable and inescapable. The only true destiny of our lives. And the reason why all we tend to do is eventually meaningless. The rules we make, the promotions we achieve, the treasures we enmass, what good are they when we are no longer around to enforce them, to celebrate them, to enjoy them. What we can achieve with our lives is infinite and what we do achieve is pitiable. We want innumerable things, but the concise nature of our lives leaves us with unfulfilled wishes, unsatisfied lives and a bitter disposition. What reason was there to do all that we did? What purpose did our life fulfill? We persevere day after day, following empty instructions and for what reason?

Do not look for the meaning of life. Your search will be ceaseless, you’re better off searching for the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. There is no higher purpose, no deeper significance. You weren’t born to do anything except the things you want, you aren’t supposed to anything except the things you wish, you aren’t destined for anything except to die, same as me. You might do very well in your life, even change the way of the world, but that will not be because it was what you were born to do but because it was what you chose to do. There is no reason to be found within your soul, just questions and more questions. Why should we go through the motions, struggle and strive, for a reason that will be worthless, just to live in a wretched present, scavenging of the glory of the past and hoping for a better future but ready to accept the opposite? Why does courage leave us when we need it the most? Why are we unable to find a purpose, a cause to devote ourselves? Why can’t we push ourselves harder to chase our ever elusive dreams? Why are our dreams so ridiculous? How do we trade our instinct to secure a future with a conviction that lets us believe that in actuality our present is vital? Questions and more questions. Where do we even begin our search? All we do, all we accomplish will not justify our lives unless it’s our judgment we seek. If we can be proud of the life we lived, without letting our judgment be influenced by anyone else, then our purpose of life has been fulfilled. The people that surround you will never think you’ve lived a life worthy unless you bring world peace. But they don’t matter. You need to be selfish and find your private meaning of life. You may want to fight for the freedom of your country risking your life in battle or you may want to earn lots of money and relax in your mansion without caring for the world. What purpose can there be in earning loads of money, just to perish in a golden bed or dying for your country just so it can be ruled by corrupt politicians? Who cares, if that’s the life you want then that’s the life you want. It’s always supposed to be your choice. If you scale the heights of success or drown in the depths of failure, it should be a result of your choice. Success and failure are but the end of a journey. And it will only be worthy if it was a journey you chose. All we need in life is a direction. Its our journey beginning in the day we were born, ending in the day we die. It’s just a passage of time. We were born, we’re alive and we’ll die. That is the ultimate truth. We may not the save the world from global warming or cure cancer but we can try if we want. Or we can do anything else we want, without wondering if its our destiny but just because we feel like doing it. We do not have to prove to the world we’ve lived worthy lives, just ourselves.

The reality of life is harsh. We struggle for a cause that doesn’t seem worth the struggle and strive for a future that will never be what we hope. Every day we carry on, knowing that tomorrow won’t be better than today but we do not stop because under the most squalid circumstances we are capable of hope. Hope without logic, without reason. Our fault does not lie in our ability to hope but in our inability to act. We are quick to hope but tentative when we are called into action. We trudge through the repeated, unremitting motions of our existence day after day, hoping for something better but never doing anything to effect a change, just because it’s the way of the world. We rely on tradition, culture, and normalcy. We have forgotten our ability of original thought. We fail to build individual principles, our notions of truth and lies. What we hold as right and wrong, aren’t what we experienced from life. No, they are the convictions of the people who brought us up. We are but mere mirrors of the beliefs of those who sheltered us, and they of theirs who nourished them. It's wrong to cheat, it's wrong to steal, it's wrong to fight. We’ve all been taught and we've accepted without question. It wasn't what we experienced. If we were just allowed to learn it ourselves maybe we would've come to the conclusion that lying isn’t so bad, it gets me out of difficult situations, stealing isn’t so bad I get things for free, cheating isn’t so bad, I get more than what my effort deserved. But we were told these the wrong paths of life, a path we shouldn't play with. So, we try our best to stay far, to stay 'right' and we follow what we’ve been taught, which is good as long as it’s actually right. But we were also taught about the cast system, about every superstition we so arduously follow, about why we should stay away from the untouchables, about why cast comes before love, why faith in God should be without question. Are we not capable of thinking that to discriminate without reason is not rational, that race and cast are illogical, that blind faith in God is what the terrorizes of our era use as their main ammo. We were educated about the flaws of these practices. But the education system of our times is a laughable affair. We do not study to know new things, to understand our subject of choice. We study to pass in examinations. It's not knowledge we're after, it's marks. The thing which is supposed to be our greatest inspiration for original thoughts fails us. What greatness can we achieve if we study about the lives of great men not to get inspired but because it’s important for a short note in examination.
From the day we were capable of original thoughts we've been told what to think. From the day we were capable of individual action we've been told what to do. From the day we were capable of leading we've been told to follow. From the day we were capable of freedom, we've been held captive.
Ours is the thinking mind, the curious mind, the rational mind, a mind capable of amazing discoveries. We can change the way of the world if we take a moment to think, not just play in our minds what we've been taught but actually ponder about the working mechanism of the world. We should take pride in our sense of curiosity and our ability of action. How much more time do we need to understand things need to change with time. We keep moving through, pass each day in detestable normalcy, our potential rotting within the confines of a typical life. This practice that continued unquestioned through generations has now become a habit and will soon turn into an instinct. And then it will be within our genes to fight not to live, but to exist, to struggle not to think but to accept what has been told.
We fight our every instinct that drives us towards freedom, drives towards a cliff and pushes us off into undiscovered lands. We who are yet unaware if our wings are made of feather or of wax. We who might crash and burn or soar through the heights of ecstasy. A dive into the unknown, to not just learn but to experience and build an original perspective. But we dare not follow our freedom path. We hold on to the enticing thread of security that keeps us from plunging into an abyss, an abyss filled with the insane and the genius. An original thought is never a normal thought, and an abnormal thought is never considered a sane thought. That is the price we have to pay for originality. We are either followers of rules of society or we are insane. In this practice of normalcy we've become mere slaves not permitted a thought of originality. We've forgotten in the crowd of society that we are first and foremost individuals. We are capable of questioning the facets of society we feel aren’t right. We need not follow everything society orders us to. A society that is archaic, ragged, and obsolete. We are capable of thought. It’s about time we began thinking.

While watching ‘Jailed Abroad’ in NGC a couple of days ago, I heard what has got to be one of the strangest, if not the strangest thing ever. The episode was about a major who goes to Sierra Leone to disarm the local rebels. When in Sierra Leone he is guided to the disarmament camp by a Colonel of the rebels. Having heard about cannibalism in Sierra Leone, the British major at the risk of being rude asks the Colonel, if he had eaten any human flesh. The colonel replies ‘Yes.’ No expression in his face, no cringe, no hesitation. A simple yes, as if the question he was asked was if he ate chicken. Having heard rumors that human flesh tastes a lot like pork, the major unable to curb his curiosity asks if it’s true, “Do we taste like pork?” The colonel looked at him with visible incredulity. This was the question he considered to be more offensive. He replies, “I do not know. I’m Muslim.” That’s what he said; he doesn’t eat pork because he’s Muslim. He has no problems with devouring human flesh, but pork? That is out of the question. What kind of a human being would eat pork? He answered these questions as if there were no other answers that could be right. There was no guilt felt at the thought that eating human flesh was wrong. What there was, was a lack of guilt at the thought that what he did was in fact right. It seemed a perfectly appropriate to him. Pork? Are you crazy, of course not. Human meat? Yes, please. The hypocrisy that is ever present in every human culture is absolutely amazing.

Today was the first shower of the new season. What ensued was a tree torn apart, three hours of darkness and a drenched me. But it was all worth it, to feel the irrational joy of getting wet in the simple but heavenly drops of water that rushed down upon me, to forget for those few moments of unexplainable madness, everything that able to bring me down so easily and to feel alive in the moment at hand without what I regret and without what I’ve been promised. It’s an extraordinary feeling from such a dull, vapid and ordinary event. In truth, it is nothing more than the water cycle that we had to study so many times in our school years. Water evaporates, cools down and then precipitates. Two plus two equals four. But there are things that transcend the rational thinking. Somehow it is difficult to include the liberating outcome of rain within the confines of the tangible explanations of reason. How can anyone explain the freedom, the joy, and the euphoria of a simple February rain? Such things aren’t rational. But being rational is never that fun, getting wet in the rain however, is. And fun is highly underrated. What happens next? A cold? A cough? Pfff, bring it ON! All worth it. Anyway, here’s a poem I wrote about it.

The first shower

The burdening heat, the unrelenting cold.
The endless reminders of dreams I’ve sold.
I remember it all in cruel clarity,
In every hated bead of sweat, in every shiver of regretted sanity.

Give me a drop of freedom,
A potion to take away the pain.
A drug to numb my senses,
An evening of heavenly rain.

Let it rain tonight without a pause,
Let it drown all that I ever was.
Let it break my chains and set me free.
And let me decide who I will be.

The rain washes away old mistakes,
It directs me to paths un-tread.
It saves my soul and if only for a moment
It awakens in me what I thought was dead.

Drenched in this cathartic shower,
There is no future, there is no past.
Everything I have, began this moment
And it will remain till the moment lasts.

‘Such stupid notions, such ridiculous ideas.
A molecule of water could never do what you claim.
It's just a down pour of a futile liquid.
Your thoughts are indicators of an unstable brain.’

You'd never understand the absolving power,
Of a simple joyous evening rain.
I’d give up the remainder of my sanity,
Just to feel this way again.

The rain stops, a fresh breeze invades.
A deep breath to mark a new start.
The moment has passed, a new one begins.
But is there courage still left in my heart?

Can I carry on after the rain?
Fight on against the heat and cold.
Will all that I fear haunt me again?
Or will I decide how my life unfolds?

John Terry has been in the news lately courtesy of his misdemeanors and such. But why is it that we are so quick to point our fingers at him for doing what he did. He is a human being like any of us, susceptible to mistakes, enticed by temptations. And to put it simply, he can do what he wants in his private life. That is why it is called a private life. What business is it of ours? Is he a celibate monk who forgot his religion? No, he is not. He is a footballer. And the only thing we can condemn him for is if he screws up things in football. A horrendous tackle to break an opponent’s leg, we could chastise him for that. But no, not for this. Sensationalizing things at the expense of the peace of mind of another human being is simply wrong. Okay yes, in our eyes what he did was wrong. But it was not us he wronged. The matter at hand is for the people, who are involved in it directly, to solve. He owes us nothing but a good performance in the football field. And nobody can question John Terry’s performance. Every time he steps in the hallowed turf, he is captain fantastic. A captain has to be a leader and John Terry is a leader. The relationship we share with footballers begins in the field and ends in the field. His affairs, his transgressions, his mistakes, it’s not for us to judge. We are football fans not some gossip mongers. We are interested the 90 minutes he spends with us every weekend. What he does for the rest of the week is his life. The media will do what it has to get readers. And we being human beings are always more interested in the fall of a hero than the rise of a pauper. We feel good to see the black smears across the previously impeccable colors that decorated a champion’s character. But this is not the right way.
Of course, John Terry is a role model. He is an idol for children. And obviously we are worried about how children would react when they understand the lapse of their hero. But aren’t we the immediate role models of the children around us? What will they understand when they see their elders praise and worship someone for his admirable determination, and in the next moment they leave his side and point fingers at him and condemn him? Such swift changes of opinions swayed by a few printed words in the gossip columns of a hungry newspaper. Is that who we are?
I am not a big supporter of John Terry but that’s because he plays for a rival team. And I will denounce him and scream my lungs out, for every tackle he gets wrong. But never for what he does in his non-football life. I know him as a footballer. A proper footballer. And I respect his commitment for his team. His private life is his private life. We only share the blissful realm of the football world and I will not lose my respect because of some stupid things he did. We are all vulnerable to stupidity. And this is after all a world cup year.
If you don’t agree with all of this and still chastise Terry for what he did, I have one question to ask. Its hypothetical but with possibilities of turning into a very real scenario. In July the 11th, the World Cup Final, when England are playing Argentina and Lionel Messi is racing through the ‘D’ area and there is only one chance for a defender to make a last ditch tackle, which England defender would you want to make that tackle?