Life, or something close to it.

Resolve not to be poor: whatever you have, spend less. Poverty is a great enemy to human happiness; it certainly destroys liberty, and it makes some virtues impracticable, and others extremely difficult.
Samuel Johnson

Everything happened so fast. There was no time to think, no time to analyze the pros and cons of the situation, no time to worry about what the repercussions would be. There was something to be done and he had done it. Later lying in a white bed, staring up at a blinding light he would wish he’d stayed back. He would wish he’d just let the boy die.
There was this kid, eight or nine, in the middle of the road. Was there a toy, a ball maybe, that he was trying to pick up? He couldn’t remember. Just a kid and a jeep rushing through, trying to beat the traffic light. So, without thinking he ran and he jumped. He pushed the kid. The kid fell down, away from the danger. He tried to pick himself up, hoped he would hear the screech of the breaks, but the jeep didn’t stop.
And then the pain. Unbearable, excruciating pain. There was nothing else in the world right then. Just him and this pain. No thoughts of poverty, of money, of joy or sorrow. It didn’t even matter if the kid was alive or dead. He just wanted the pain to stop. He screamed. A crowd gathered around him. He didn’t care, he screamed. He saw a pool of blood beside him. His blood. He screamed his lungs out.
It had been like any other evening. He was on his evening walk, trying to cool his head after another heated argument at home. Where could he bring more money from? Did his wife expect him to beg, to steal? He was doing the best he could. He loved his wife and his children but he always knew marriage was a mistake. He could barely feed himself. And that evening he told her. It slipped, and as soon as he said it, he wished he hadn’t. But when the words came out, they were venomous, filled with hatred, meant to hurt. “I wish I’d never met you.”
The sirens of the ambulance were loud. The paramedics were pushing people aside.
“Can you hear me?” they asked. He nodded.
“I need you to speak. Can you hear me?”
He wanted to scream into this idiot’s ear, he wanted to scream so loud it that would turn him deaf. YES, I CAN HEAR YOU. DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS PAIN. “Yes” was all he could muster.
They put him in a stretcher, carried him into the ambulance and hooked him up with an IV bag. The scream of the siren was louder from the inside. A hospital. They were taking him to a hospital. That meant bills. How would he pay the hospital? How would he buy his medicines? Would he be able to walk? He tried to move his leg, it wouldn’t. how would he earn any money without his legs? Why did he have to make that jump? There were hundreds of people there. No one else jumped. No one else tried to act hero. They were just spectators. They would’ve let the boy die. They would’ve cried justice. And they would’ve been furious. ‘Another rich bastard thinks he can do what he wants’ they would’ve shouted. They would’ve stopped the jeep and beaten up the driver. Perhaps they would’ve even felt good about themselves. And then they would’ve walked away and lived their mediocre lives. Why hadn’t he done the same? Why didn’t he think about his wife? Why didn’t he think about his own kids? What will they do now? He had destroyed their lives as well as his just to be a hero, to save a kid he didn’t even know. He didn’t even know if he had indeed saved him. The kid could be in another ambulance about to die, just like he was. And all of this would’ve been for nothing.
The ambulance stopped. They rushed him through the doors. A doctor asked him if there was anyone he should contact to let them know what had happened.
“No” he said, “there’s no one.”
What good would having his wife beside him do now? If he died then the entire cost of the hospital would become her problem. How would she pay the hospital? No. He couldn’t do this to her. He’d been selfish trying to save a stranger without thinking about his family. He would not do that again. His death would be an anonymous one. He would be an unclaimed body. They would do whatever they had to do to save him. But if they failed there would no one to pay for their efforts. He wished they’d fail.
I wish I’d never met you. Those were his last words to his wife. Oh, he loved her. He loved her dearly. He wished he could take it back. I love you. I’m so grateful to god that I met you. I’m sorry I couldn’t be better. I’m sorry I couldn’t do what I promised I would. I’m sorry I won’t be there to see the kids grow up. I’m sorry for treating you so wrong. I wish I could take back every harsh word I ever said to you. I wish I could back and start all over again. I would work harder. I would do all the things I said I would. And even though it’s not possible I would love you more. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
She wouldn’t know what happened to him. He would be just like so many other men, who walk away from their families, leaving behind a legacy of poverty and shame. She would hate him. She would wish she’d never met him and she would mean it.
They took him inside a large room. There were five-six people with masks on. They shifted him from the stretcher to a white bed. He looked up. There was a blinding light shining down upon him. A man put a plastic mask in his face. He started feeling drowsy. He let go of all of his thoughts. He bid goodbye to his wife, his kids and embraced the oblivion and waited for death to come.

The world is very different now. For man holds in his mortal hands the power to abolish all forms of human poverty, and all forms of human life. – John Fitzgerald Kennedy

Along the boisterous streets of central Dhaka, on a footpath vexed with potholes, every evening at five-five thirty, Shakib, a twenty six year old student of Dhaka University opens his small tea shop. It’s more of a tea stall than a shop, just the same as hundreds of others littered in every corner of this metropolitan. His working hours stretch till nine, sometimes ten in the night. He then heads home, freshens up and begins his studies. He studies for three hours every night, just the three hours even if an important exam awaits the next morning. He’s not lazy, he just can’t afford any more time for academic excursions. The next day he attends his classes at midday and after his school day ends, his workday begins. And the same story repeats the next day and the day after that and the day after that, a never ending cycle of a life born in the lap of poverty. There is no time for a luxurious night out. There is no time for a relaxing evening at home. There’s no New Year’s Eve celebration. There is no time even for a disease. He can’t afford to get sick, not under these harsh times. He is shunned by more than half of his class mates because he is a second class citizen not worthy of friendship. He looks upon his ‘friends’ not with envy but with amazement that two people who study in the same University, who look the same, follow the same God, can have such contrasting realities. While others come to school in their fuel consuming, air conditioned, loud motor vehicles, he has to squabble every day over two rupees with an equally poor rickshaw puller. He future plans include complete abandonment of education and venture into foreign lands to find any semblance of a life worth fighting for, a life worth living. How much youth have our nations lost because the people high above do not care about the people down below? We are either rich or poor first and only then, after said division, we are human beings together.
“Had I know this would be my life, I would have refused to be born.” he says.
“That is a horrible thing to say. Your life is just as important as the lives of your rich class mates. In fact they are exploiting the financial prowess of their fathers while you are working for your life. If looked upon with an objective eye, you are a better man than any of them.” I say.
He smiles. The world doesn’t understand such philosophy. The world doesn’t care about who the better person is. It’s easy to say such things. A working man has to account for every paisa spent, he has to keep track of every rupee increase in the price of rice, he has to think and rethink about every taka he wastes on a cigarette, he has to look upon every tear in his clothes as a major catastrophe, every utensil broken is a calamity. He puts me to shame. The world doesn’t care about justice. Our society, our civilization is a sham. A society is supposed to care for its members, a brotherhood is supposed to ensure equality. Where can Shakib find fairness in any aspect of his life? This collection of unevenly blessed individuals is a deviously set up organization to help the rich get richer while the poor, well who cares about the poor? Some people risk their survival, venture into unknown lands for years on end without any news from home, while others enjoy video calls on their new 3G cellular phones. It’s shameful to hide under the refuge of the phrase that the world has been made this way, that life is unfair. If the world is this way, then it is us who made it so. If life’s unfair it is because we do nothing to ensure justice. How can we be proud of this society which makes young individuals choose between education and survival? Shouldn’t our warm luxurious jackets feel unbearably heavy when we see a fellow man shivering while he fights the cruel winter wind? Shouldn’t our extravagant meals become nauseating when we see an old lady emaciated and begging for a few bucks to buy a basic meal? Equality, brotherhood, justice have become words without consequence. What we are is prejudiced, greedy, exploitive. Animals base their lives on survival of the fittest. How are we any different? Our civilization is based on the strength of money. And in this society Shakib is undeservingly unfortunate to have been born in a poor household. What future does he have to look forward to? Where can he look for progress? His environment has rendered him powerless to get the academic qualification the big people of the world demand. He is condemned to follow what our society decides he should. He’s just an insignificant member in a crowd of uncountable unfortunates.
And after all this injustice, the one thing he feels he can be proud of, he says, is that he is a Bangladeshi.

"When I was a younger man, I wondered why I chose atheism. My parents were religious, you would've liked them. They wouldn’t be proud of me now, at least not of my religious views. They taught me all things come from God and all we do should be in praise of him, which quite frankly seems unfair. I mean I want to get something for myself out of my life. But under their shadow I experienced many religious practices, that didn’t seem right to me to be honest. Some of it was even ridiculous but I wasn’t allowed to question. No one was, not even my parents. It was a cultural heritage that had been continually passed on from generation to generation and I guess it was my generation’s turn next. So year after year, I followed what I was expected to follow and did what I was expected to do. No stray steps, no sacrilegious queries. Back then, what my father said was final and what my mother said was infinitely wise and I was a little ignorant idiot who understood the foolishness of his inquiries. Hence, I kept quiet like I was expected to.
But slowly the reach of my parents shadow began to weaken and I began to explore the world little by little. And let me tell you the world is a vile and disgusting place. It’s not like your church with a clean garden and a paved road to the gate. No sir. If I knew what the world was and is, I would’ve declined the offer to be born. Things happened that made me question the existence of the Almighty. And when I was a confirmed atheist I came to a conclusion there were two reasons why I left the holy path.
I don’t want to label it the main reason, so I’ll say the first of the two reasons was: my life started becoming a miserable and deplorable affair. I flirted with depression, well not flirted, to be more precise I fell in head over heels with depression. Every day was every day. I didn’t know what day of the week it was because I didn’t need to, they were all the same. What I did the day before would be the same thing I was doing today and the thing I was doing today, I would be doing the same thing tomorrow. I was alone, desolate and seriously wronged. I mean I felt I was wronged. This wasn’t the life I deserved. This wasn’t the life anyone deserved. It felt like I was being punished when I had done no wrong, at least nothing wrong enough to deserve what I got. But then I looked around, there were so many of us, living the same life with the same complaints. And it couldn’t be that this was the big plan God had for all of us. This couldn’t have been my destiny, to rot in a meaningless existence, doing things no one else cared for, decaying more and more as each day passed by. God didn’t answer my prayers. He left me stranded when I had no one but him. No one can be that cruel. And when I asked people who were supposed to know things, they said, God works in mysterious ways. My life made no sense, I was trying to find reasons to continue living, I was looking for some answers, a hope to hold on to, something, anything. Anything at all and they said, God works in mysterious ways. The best that they could come up with to help me save my life was GOD WORKS IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS. Well, I guess at that point I had an epiphany of sorts. If God had forgotten about me it shouldn’t bother him much if I forgot about him and so I did.
It wasn’t the unexplainable wrongs that were happening in the world that caused my deviation. I knew about Hitler from the time I was little. It didn’t seem to bother me that God gave life to such a person when my life was good. Floods, fires, tsunamis, hurricanes, earthquakes everything was happening long before I became an atheist. And though it seem absurd that God would allow such things to happen, I didn’t really look much into it because He was kind enough not to include me in any of those. Everything the religious people said seemed plausible to me. Had someone asked me why God would allow such things to happen, perhaps even I would’ve answered, God works in mysterious ways. I didn’t become a nonbeliever because of the unfair human suffering the world had to go through. No, they were just points that I could throw at people in an argument about religion. I didn’t care too much about the six million Jews Hitler killed. I agree it was wrong and it shouldn’t have happened, but I only came to know about it after watching a movie. I mean, in the Bible God kills the entire population of the earth except one human family and a few animals. If God is capable of such barbarism, it wasn’t hard to see why Hitler got his life. But once my life took a turn for the worse, everything changed. God became an imposter. It’s strange really, it didn’t bother me much when six million lives were allowed to perish without reason but when my life, a single soon-to-be useless existence, became a tad difficult, everything about God became a lie. I know it’s a selfish approach but…… well I really can’t find something to say to make that sound a bit more acceptable.
My questions didn’t go away though. And since God wasn’t answering I had to look elsewhere. So I began to read, searching for my answers in books. There I found the second reason for my atheism. There were so many things religion couldn’t answer that books could. I read in a book the most amazing questions. It asked, if our children commit the most heinous crimes, unforgivable and inexcusable, will we have the heart to punish them by sending them to a place that uses the most gruesome torture methods imaginable? Is it possible for a father to do such a thing to his child? So, how can God, whom we decree: our kind and generous Almighty Father, send us, his children, to burn in the fires of hell, not for a day or a year, but for eternity. Here on God’s green earth we make a big issue if a father lays a hind in his son, but God has the ruthlessness to condemn his children to hell? Doesn’t seem right.
Books made me see this life is mine and I should do what I wish with it. I have to admit I didn’t do much but I did what I wanted to do, mostly. Though many disapproved, I lived my life, not the way God intended but the way I did and I think it’s acceptable since it is my life. There were so many answers and so many more questions. And slowly, my conviction that I had chosen the right way became more and more strong. I mean we used to believe child birth was a blessing from God not too long ago. We used to burn witches, we used to use shamans to cure diseases. We did so many things because we believed it was what God wanted us to do. Even now, all terrorists believe that what they are doing is God’s work. We can’t even figure out which God is the right God. If Christianity is the correct religion and if the Christian God does exist, then will the Muslims and the Hindus and the people following other religions suffer the same fate as an atheist? Will they burn in hell too? And the people that have never been and will never be exposed Christianity, the people in the small villages of a Muslim nation, are they already condemned without having been given a chance? That doesn’t seem like the workings of a fair God. There are so many things religion can’t answer. The more I read, the more I came to realize there is one rational answer that satisfies all queries and it is the lack of God’s existence. If we were to believe that God doesn’t exist, then everything becomes explainable. The reason behind Hitler would be that bad people exist, they always have they always will. The reason behind terrorism would be people take advantage of blind beliefs to get their dirty work done. Everything would then become simple. Everything would have a rational reason. There would be consequences, I know. Dostoevsky said, ‘If there is no God, everything is permitted.’ I guess the idea of God is necessary to keep certain factions of our society in line. It seems we believe that human nature is inherently inclined to depravity and is in the need of a system that will keep things in check. We have lost faith in ourselves but not in a supernatural being. Religion asked from me something I couldn’t give. A blind and unquestioning faith. If I am to believe in something to save my life and salvage my soul, I will need some proper convincing and religion just didn’t offer that. All my questions remained ignored, they were blasphemies not to be touched. So, religion didn't work to well with me. And unable to fulfill their criteria of unquestioning faith, I became an atheist.
But now lying in my death bed, I have begun to feel apprehensive about the idea of hell. I mean, I don’t want to burn in hell because I was too stubborn to relinquish my atheist beliefs. What if I’m wrong? It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been wrong. So, I have a proposal to you mister priest. I have amassed quite a tidy sum over the years. And since I’m about to die, I don’t really have much work for it. I’ve decided to donate it all to your church’s orphanage. But in return I want complete forgiveness for all my sins and I want you to tell me that I will not go to hell. I know you need the money. I’ve been to the orphanage and it is not in a pretty condition. And before you accuse me some devious insinuation let me clear out the air by saying yes, this is me taking advantage of your situation. But you have to look at things from my side. I had to choose between making you feel guilty or burning in hell. The choice was pretty obvious for me. Isn’t it good enough that I’m offering all my money to charity or does it have to be that, it should be a sincere I-hope-for-nothing-in-return kind of offer? You can give the children the best meals of their lives tomorrow if you give me my ticket to heaven. So are you willing to offer me my salvation to feed your poor children? It’s your choice. If you say no, you have a clear conscience and the children stay the way they always were, I get another priest, no hard feelings. If you say yes, the children are happy, you get to be the good priest and get a peaceful death. I still can't let go of my atheist beliefs but if God does exist, I just want to have an argumentative point to offer when I have to explain why I deserve to be in heaven. Don’t you think God will be willing to overlook this small transaction to give you the means to feed all those hungry children? He surely won’t punish you for such a trifle misdemeanor when it results in such great happiness. Will he? Well you understand God better than me. It’s all up to you. So what’s it going to be?”

Yes, I pull a Rickshaw



Woke up at 5 today
Same as yesterday
Saw a few more dreams
And crashed back to reality

Life didn’t change
It was just another Wednesday
Or was it a Tuesday?
Differentiating days seem useless.

The pedals seems fine,
The wheels properly inflated.
So begins a new work day.
So begins my destiny.

You look new to this place,
Where do you want to go?
That’ll be fifty rupees please.
You pay because you know nothing now.

A good start with a good customer,
I cheat because it gets me more.
Let me hear about your judgment
When you have to worry about your next meal.

And where do you want to go?
That’ll be fifteen rupees please.
You’ll pay 10? But it’s fifteen!
How about we settle for 12?

You heartless man,
What does three rupees hold for you?
Is it worth depriving me
Of a well earned cigarette?

You generously give five rupees to a beggar in charity
But argue with me for two.
The beggar just begs,
But I bleed for you.

I sweat and I toil,
I pull and I push.
But when I ask for two rupees more
You become a saint and I the Devil?

If you pity a beggar for his misfortune
Why cant you see
From your cushioned seat,
It is my sweat that drips for you.

I pull a rickshaw I know
I’m insignificant in this world.
A hindrance to you, car owners.
A cheat to you, my customers.

But don’t think you’re better than me
Just because you’re in an office from 9 to 5
I know I can’t sell the latest insurance scheme
But can you pull a rickshaw for a day, everyday?

"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.

We are fallible creatures, easily tempted, easily subdued. With unimaginable desires for things we don't need. We are pretenders. We are cheaters. We are liars. We do things, things which, were they done by others we would chastise them, burn them, stone them. Our sins are always meager when compared. We are capable of astonishing horrors. Our vocabulary describes us. We have needs for words that shouldn’t exist, but they do because we put them in practice with our actions. Why do we have words like pedophilia, genocide, massacre, rape, patricide, holocaust, annihilation, apartheid? These are all testaments of our capabilities and how we have fulfilled them. We are quick to punish, slow to heal, slower to forgive. We are frail, easily betrayed. We revel in false hopes and futile dreams. We are cowards, doing things that are acceptable in everyone else’s eyes. We are pompous, ignorant and we think they can’t possibly be right if they’re against us. We assassinate. We fight. We stab. We kill. We murder. We war. We shake with the right hand and stab with the left. We betray. We endure. We torture. We hate. We are cruel. We are unforgiving. We make the Devil proud, we shout God’s name. We abandon reason. We terrorize. We bomb. We conspire. We differentiate. We are racists. We take advantage. We get richer. We lust. We indulge. We admonish. We preach and we don’t follow. We walk past. We accept. We flatter. We mock. We criticize. We humiliate. We envy. We wait for them to fall and when they do, we laugh at them. We blame. We deflect responsibility. We point our fingers. We judge. Without mercy we judge. Without understanding we judge. Without constraint we judge. With absolute disregard we judge but we fear judgment. We condemn. We do not do unto others, as we wish done unto us. We are despicable. We are appalling. We are lamentable. We are but mere human beings. We are hypocrites.
It’s a good thing god doesn’t exist. If he did he would be burning in shame looking down upon the abhorrent digression of his beloved creatures. Or maybe he does exist and he is.

"We train young men to drop fire on people, but their commanders won't allow them to write 'fuck' on their airplanes because it's obscene! "- Walter E. Kurtz (excerpt from Apocalypse Now)

"A question that sometimes drives me hazy:
Am I or are the others crazy"
- Albert Einstein.

Originality. Where can we go to, or what can we do to become original? We are 2009years into the A.D. calendar. Counting the years before that, our civilization has spent more than 2500 years of counted time in this planet. During which it has supported more than a billion lives. A lot more. That’s a lot of different men, women and children wanting to be something. To do something original. And since they had the benefit of being ahead in generation, they did it. Leaving us with no other choice but to redo them. We were born to be followers. Do you want to climb the Mount Everest? It’s been done. Write an epic play about unparalleled love? Been done. Free a nation from tyranny? Done. There really is nothing you can do that hasn’t already been done. Even your thoughts, that you think belong to you, someone's already thought them before. It has already stirred up someone else's grey matter before it did yours. There is no being original in the true sense of the word, but like everything else in life, or like everything else in the world, the meaning we give to originality is also tainted.
To be original, means you should be able to break free from the chains of society and severe the shackles of normalcy. Think for yourself. Everyone has an inspiration. Even following on his/her path, can be considered original, though it itself argues with the definition of being original. Leave conformity. Embrace your inner insanity. Listen to the voice that tells you it’s stupid to do such things, but you should do them anyway. Forget the need to rationalize things. The things we consider normal, are only normal because we've been told they're normal. Who has the right to decide what's normal and what is not? They can tell us what is normal or not, because they have the majority of the votes. But we all know their victory is not unanimous. Be a part of the minority. Enjoy being different, imperfect, crazy. Don’t worry about the world. The only they care about results and outcomes. They will mock you for your stupidity, spit on your endeavors and ridicule your thoughts, till you reach success, and then they'll praise you for your bravery. They are fickle minded morons who can only think what they've been told think, to do what's always been done, and they’ll live and die within the security of their four walls. They are rational, secure, safe, sheltered but a bit too sane. There's a very thin line between insanity and genius. Imagine you have a beautiful wife, a castle for a home, a healthy smart kid for a son, a garage of spectacular vehicles, and a job that has the whole population of the area working under you. All in all, a pretty sweet life. Now imagine leaving all of that, to go live in a jungle! Crazy, right? But turn the clock back a couple of years. Okay, a bit more than a couple of years, the same chain of thoughts weren’t crazy or stupid to Siddhartha Gautama. He left all his possessions and went on a search for answers to questions he couldn't understand. He became Gautama Buddha, the enlightened one, eventually. Stupid, crazy and insane to a genius. The same path that made everyone think he wasn’t all that great in the head, made the same people come to him looking for advice. George Bernard Shaw wrote, “The rational man adapts to fit his environment. The irrational man adapts his environment to fit him. Therefore all progress depends upon the irrational man.”
Shaw also said, “All great truths begin as blasphemies.” Let’s say that the world is not flat, that the earth revolves round the sun. Let’s travel South America on an old motorbike. Let’s say time doesn’t move the same for everyone, that energy and mass are interchangeable. Let’s abolish slavery. Let’s make a metal machine fly in the air while carrying us in it. Let’s fly a kite in a thunderstorm with a metal key attached to the string. Let’s fight a well equipped, well armed British army with nothing but non-violence. Let’s die for the sins of everyone else. These are just some of the insane thoughts that cropped up in a few brilliant minds. And the moral of the story is stay away from conformity and think for yourself. Break free from all things normal. And let the people brand you the they wish. You know who you are, better than them. Decide what you want. And chase it.
I myself am no adventurer, and this piece of writing seems to be drenched in hypocrisy. But these are just thoughts. And a hypocrite or not, I love to write. Cheers.

A few days back, a friend of mine told the most absurd of things. He said we were the best creatures on this planet. I couldn’t help but laugh. We, human beings, the best creature? We maybe the smartest, most progressed, technologically developed, articulation capable and evolutionally advanced. But does that make us the best creatures on Earth? First we have to know how do we judge someone, on how good they are? Are we good because we are able to communicate, plan, have more needs than hunger. That just makes us advanced, gifted. That doesn’t make us good. The age of the robots and artificial intelligence will soon be upon us, and they will be able to do all that we do a hundred times better. So, when that time comes, will they be the best creatures?
If we judge on compassion, then I guess, we are capable of being the best. But right now, we are far from it. We are capable of kindness, empathy, care, sympathy, love and all those wonderful things. But at the same time we are also capable of cruelty, contempt, disdain and hatred, and how! We are caring. We understand the pain of others. History is scattered with people who could be nothing but images of God. But history is also littered with people who knew nothing but evil.
Our earth is just about as big as a speck, in the amazingly vast universe, yet we are able to create borders to divide it amongst ourselves, the people. We differ in caste, social status, religion and we think, scratch that, we know every other caste or religion is on the wrong side. We are right. If we are poor, the rich seem beneficiaries of ill-gotten plunder, if we are rich, the poor are insignificant insects who are only there to dirty and populate the earth that belongs to us. We differentiate ourselves from others, but we do not become individuals. We group up, we form mobs, we share beliefs, we follow religions, and we die for our groups, our mobs. We die for our religion, we kill for it. We move headlong onto war, we sing praises for those who killed for our country, those who died for it. We are villains to the enemy, they are villains to us. We spend more and more money on the fight against terrorism. And I am not against trying to rid this world of terrorist, but they, who we brand horrible, vile and wicked, are people too. We are all human beings, but we are ironically deficient in humanity.
The history of mankind has seen people like Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., Gautama Buddha and others, who are the great ambassadors of mankind. But where can we hide Hitler, Stalin, Idi Amin Dada, Ruhollah Khomeini and so many more. The better things we are capable of, the purity of the things we can do, our goodness, our righteousness, our virtue would make even God proud but our malice, our immorality, our sin, our vice, the evil we are capable of would even put the Devil to shame. I don’t know which creature is the best in the world. Although I do know, we can become the best creatures to tread this planet. We can, but we are not and we probably will never be. The end of the world can only be so far.