Sunday, 18 December 2016

To the places I could never make it to.

Right atop the cusp of my life, as I transition from the charlatan to the one people would want to look upto, there's a very eerie and stomping regret that bewilders me to the core. It's so often said that a life without a purpose is a life best lived. I've found that to be mostly true. But a life ought to have a longing for something or someone, which becomes the solemn desired outcome of all your travails. From the people whom I see toil hard to earn bread for their offspring, to the dreamers who stay up all night to be at their best when the golden shot arrives. To be honest, even I had an evanescent stint or two where I got my chance to chase the goose. But ultimately, I've always been the "getting swayed by the need of the moment" kind of man.

Most of my pursuits were unidirectional or in fact non-directional to place it in the right standing. I single-handedly made going with the flow the motto of a journey and tarrying along with the change that this demanded in me. I'm a changed man, changing at every instant, turning from a macabre stoic who means his business to an animated kaleidoscope when it came to try and light up a conversation. I've done those changes all the way and all the time and have committed myself to making them for as long as they are demanded from me. But as I make my transition from a boy for himself to a man for the people, there is something that has struck me so fiercely and so belligerently, that I thought I should take a moment or two to grasp the intensity and then waddle into what's inevitable.

Most of the people I know have had a certain period in their lives, early or pretty late, where the brunt of their mistakes or the vistas of their experiences, have exposed them to places and events which were to shape the course of their future. These experiences become the fulcrum of most of their conscience. What we perceive as happiness and what we take as grief, what we should emboss on the visage of our dreams to embolden their conversion to a reality, and what we ought to fear in order to avert all crises which could prevent from that happening. Most of these are decisions and considerations shaped by knowledge gained through our presence at those places mentioned above. 

We all graduate from one school and some of us from two or more. One is the physical one, with the resplendent balustrade and mighty troubadours of academia enshrining in us the art of being enslaved by a paltry occupation, But there is another much more important one that we often leave out of the equation. The school of life. We all come on this planet to be students of life. To be born out of a biological struggle itself, and to traipsing our way to the stages when we become the all seeing being. And then till the very end. We attempt, we fall, we feel debilitated, we learn and we go on. In fact, we learn things of much more value from this school than we do from any of those ornate and ostentatious institutions. It is this school, that I'm afraid to say, I could never get past! 

Too tamed to look beyond the wilderness of the realm I believed to be suitable, and too frightened to become a marauder outside who would steal experiences and interactions. The fact that the entire universe remains the only stable entity in a puddle of chaos, made me feel comfortable about the notion of not concerning myself much about what I was missing out on. In fact, soliloquy has been more emancipating than the riling chatter, and seclusion more enchanting than belonging to a cohort. But as I look back, the aplomb fades away to the grim reality of my future.

My future beckons many occasions, where the recondite argot I learnt at my earthly schools won't come to my avail, and I shall feel bereft of what shall matter the most. We all shape our lives partly by spontaneous decision making through intuition, and partly through applying our knowledge from the experiences encountered at the places we'eve been to. Those places and those experiences also serve to shape the intuition over a period of time, thereby becoming the bedrock of our judgment. I, therefore as I stand today in front of a mirror, find myself deprived of that facet of judgment itself. 

Our lives gradually becomes confined to the precincts of our judgments. Judgments at work, judgments at friendships, judgments on road, and judgments on adventures. Judgments are everything, and what good is a man who cannot judge? What good is a man who doesn't adulate the whimsical nincompoop who gets his bets right and chastises the sagacious sage whose prowess turned a blind eye at the very moment? What good is a man who doesn't favor the mirth of a friend full of duplicity over the transient indolence of a loyal to the word comrade? What good is a man who chooses hardwork and selflessness over deception and deviousness? Therefore, what good is a man who cannot really judge? 

The world just lives by one dictum all the time, and if you swear by the code of the caucus, you just have to judge. There can't be a no judgment scheme. Be it the transactional elements we indulge in for our lives, to the long term decisions we make only once in a while. We have to judge. Whom to maintain camaraderie with and whom to knock off the pack. What to do in order to rise up the ladder and what not to do in order to impel down. We have to think, we have to judge and we have to act. You know why? It's because the fact that certain things could actually just stay that way, is a long lost notion. 

All other animals except the homo sapiens either genetically evolved or went extinct. But we human beings surpassed genetic evolution and produced an evolution of ourselves, and of the rest of the world, including other animals. We can't stand the absence of change, and can't stand things remaining as they are. We wait to embrace change and dearly vaunt for it. We can't even live without it anymore. A sane man when sent to a jail, feels the same surroundings and routine garrote him more than the noose does. Likewise a retired man just wishes to travel or to die, because he can't stand just being at the same place everyday. But then there is me, who changed only when it was a compulsion from the rest of the universe, and the man who couldn't go to many places to experience things unravel and then learn the art of judgment. A man deprived of the ostensible paraphernalia to create his own armor to live through a life, and denuded of the desideratum of the most important practice one shall ever learn - judgment. So yes, this is an account of a man full of regrets, not for what he did or the places he visited, but for the places he could never make it to.