But nothing ever happens...

I feel strangely sad about the close of 2009. As though a friend I had a really good time with is now heading to board a train. To the past. And I know I'll never see him again. I know there's a replacement called 2010 coming along, on the adjacent platform. But, who knows what he'll be like? I'd rather time just didn't move. At least for a few days more. Till I'm free enough to relax and say bye nicely.

What makes it necessary for those characters in Hindi movies to burst into song (and when in the mood, dance as well) when they realize they've fallen in love? You'd think being uncertain of whether their affection is returned would cause some amount of pain and heartache, but no, they prefer to sing instead. Oh, well..

I used to think the chief value of religion lay in it's being a moral-compass to guide society. And used to think I didn't particularly need to practise any religion as I was wise enough to be able to figure out for myself, when the need arose, the difference between what was right and what wasn't.

Perhaps though, those assumptions were wrong, for multiple reasons.

Religion's value doesn't just reside in its being a moral-compass, but in the faith it instills in man. As we strive to be independent and take our lives into our hands, we lead increasingly fragmented lives --- fragmented from the social standpoint. We somehow have fewer pillars to rest on than we did as children, or our parents did when they were our age. And despite our insistence to understand everything, and believe only that which we can rationalize --- I wish I'd grown up with some blind faith. I wish I could rest with the belief that someone up there was watching out for me, and that I didn't have to set life right by myself. I wish there was this black box into which I could put in issues that I can't grapple with right now. Perhaps the black box would resolve the issues by itself, or perhaps, while they sit stewing within the box, I'd grow stronger to the point I have the courage to open the box. As a child, I undermined the value of faith --- I knew not then that life would be more complicated than anything else I'd set my mind to understand.

Hair is black when we're born and white when we're old, I'd overlooked the fact that it would be a mixture of the two in the interim. That the black and white strands could form an entangled mess, and that it would be hard to separate the black from the white without damaging some of the strands themselves. I hadn't foreseen that my compass could fail me.

I wish I'd been more humble as a child, to have accepted God before life got wild.

"Failure, you were the best thing that happened to me."

A great gift it is for sure,

To see ourselves as others see us.

But a greater gift by far would be,

To see ourselves as we happen to be.

ashes to dust, mud to grass

I lay back on the grass and stared up at the stars. It was a clear and windy night, and every star that existed seemed to smile down at me from the black skies. I let my limbs relax and sink into the prickly wet grass, lying as I'd heard dead people did. And periodically, doubting my own sanity, I broke into uncontrollable bursts of laughter.

I guess I'd been lying there for quite a while before M and P found me.

"Where the hell have you been? You've been missing since lunch! "
"Why didn't you answer your phone? We've been so worried!"
"Do you even know the time? It's almost eleven! We need to be back in the hostel soon for the attendance."
"What were you doing anyway?"

"Ah," I said, grinning up at the stars, "I didn't think my turn to talk would arrive."

"What've you been upto?" M repeated.

"Just random stuff." I could sense their exasperation even as I spoke, and grinned again.

"And why's that maniacal grin plastered on your face?" P looked at me with concern. "What're you so happy about?"

"I don't know," I answered truthfully. I really didn't. My life was as big a mess as it ever was, and for weeks I'd wept on their supportive shoulders. Nothing factual had happened, nothing had changed. And yet I felt an enormous balloon of happiness swelling within me, pressing against my chest and forcing me to laugh.

"I saw you run into him this morning," P continued, the concern in her voice still apparent. "How could you have smiled at him like that? Especially after the way he treated you? What's wrong with you?"

"That's it, I don't know. See---" I finally sat up to look at my friends' faces. "I'd been thinking that I'll throw a shoe at him the next time we meet. Or freeze him with my indifference. Or deliver a huge speech I had prepared, telling him how much I hated him. Or used all those gaalis you guys taught me. But when I saw his apprehensive face this morning, all I felt like doing was to laugh aloud. And I tried to contain that within a smile."

They continued to look puzzled, two faces I loved.

"The thing is, I can smile while he can't. I can laugh while he probably doesn't even know how. And that, my friend, makes all the difference." I concluded in a theatrical fashion.

P smiled, she probably understood my insanity better than I did. She lay down on the grass beside me, staring up at the stars as she spoke, "This doesn't mean I've forgiven you for all the time I wasted searching for you today, but we'll see about that tomorrow."

M continued to look worried. "Both of you are crazy, " she said. "God alone knows how I put up with you. Oh get up, the two of you! We need to get back to the hostel soon. And besides, we aren't allowed to be on this grass. We're going to get into trouble. Any minute one of the guards will see us and report our names. Get up, get up."

"Aw M, this life is so full of care, you don't have the time to shut up and stare." I quipped as I adjusted my head into a more comfortable position to stare at the stars.

"What if the guard shows up?"

P backed me up, "Come on, we should go drown ourselves if we can't outrun even an out-of-shape guard. Screw the rules, and lie down quietly M."

We lay there on the forbidden grass, staring silently at the stars for I know not how long. Me and my silent troop of solidarity.

It was one of those rare moments in life when clarity seems to strike, when the mess that is life begins to make sense, when things don't seem that bad after all.

It was one of those moments when, despite everything, to a God you're not sure you believe in, you're compelled to whisper "Thank you."



-----------
A preliminary attempt at fictional dialogue..

It was like the skin on the cuticles of her fingers. For years now, it had been her habit to nibble away at her skin while her mind was attacked by too many thoughts all at once. She knew that in due course her fingers would hurt and bleed --- that it would be a while before they healed, if at all. She knew her fingers would be an embarrassment when she placed her hands upon the table during meetings, when she typed away at public keyboards, when she paid the cashier across the counter at grocery stores. The consequences didn't matter --- it was like those cuticles had to be sacrificed when a pensive mood struck.

It was like chipped formica on the tables in an old restaurant or canteen. Her fingers ached to slowly break away more pieces of the formica from the table, and eventually expose the rough wood that lay beneath. It didn't matter that the table didn't belong to her, or that chipping away at the formica only made the table look uglier. It was a subconscious need to strip the table of a covering that had already begun to fall off.

It was like bubble-wrap, waiting to be popped.
It was like a balloon, waiting to be pricked.
It was like the scab on a wound, itching to be picked.

It was like them, but worse.

Unasked questions swamped her. The answers frightened her, but she knew they would be hers if she simply chose to ask. Pandora's box lay right in front of her --- none advised her to open it, none forbid it.

It was the desire to know the truth.