The story of self

Self is a story. A narrative about the past and the future that has a narrative coherence. As long as the story makes sense, we maintain the semblance of normal life. We don’t recognize that all we have is the present moment. We’re constantly analyzing the past to fit into the story we want, the story that would make sense, and in some ways it is important, to recognize where we are at this moment. To track the journey to the present moment, we continuously interpret the past into a version of a story we can understand.

In a similar vein, we keep planning our future to make sure our story continues the way we want it to. We make goals and have aspirations as per the story we want for ourselves. It is at least true for me. I’ve always planned goals based on what I envision my story to be, especially in terms of work. I couldn’t bear it that my story would be that of a “normal” life, an “insignificant” life, so I couldn’t choose the easy path. I had to constantly make harder choices for my future self, even while my present self was enjoying life, leaving the hard work for the future self. Because I never really knew whether I liked doing the work or not, I just knew what I wanted my story to be. This seems like a good way to live life. This seems like the only way I’ve ever learned how to live life. I set up goals for myself based on what I envision for my future, and I’m constantly learning how to create tangible action items in the present to reach those goals, complete with the understanding that changing my environment is more effective than motivation. But, now I’m starting to wonder whether I should continue to live life this way. What has this life been, but every moment spent analyzing “imperfections”? Each moment spent analyzing the past for lessons that can be learnt? Constant struggle and frustration? And disappointment that is largely driven by my story not ending up as I had envisioned it. That’s the sole reason age terrifies me, because age brings a narrowing of the future paths my stories can take, and it scares me that for all my grand plans, the choices I’ve made in each moment have led me down a path which is gonna end up in a “normal” or “insignificant” life. The reasons for this fear are a story for another time. They have to do with the past, and how my story reached here.

The main point I want to capture in this write up is this – should we stop pretending that we have a self based on the poorly remembered past and a vague dreamy future? Should we stop making goals for the future and try to live in the moment? That seems like a more terrifying thought. What ever do I want to do in the present, I have no idea. Wouldn’t that make me a slave to my animal impulses, driven by whatever fancy my mind caught at any particular moment? And that’s impractical, because my future “story” would probably end in poverty and extreme discomfort.

Ah! What a life. Lived constantly to prevent discomfort. Ensuring comfort and availability for the fulfillment of our base desires, while constantly denying ourselves these desires, and feeling guilty for enjoying them. Or is this life? Living in stories to steal some moments of indulging our base desires.

Rockstar

I’ve done this a thousand times but, nervousness still lingers in the pit of my stomach just moments before it. These three seconds standing at the curtain still feel like 3 hours, so many emotions racing past me. The feelings can’t be described in words. Its like fucking someone for the first time, you know you have done it a thousand times, but still you feel a little restless and nervous while tearing off the tip of that packet and trying to put on that new durex. It’s like your life has stopped for three seconds and the other part awaits you at the other side of that curtain. And then you finally walk through, the chants of your name engulf you like a sudden rush of water choking your lungs. The noise welcomes you like a mother’s open arms, and you let go…

Prologue (For Something or the Other)

Here she was. She’d come after almost a month.

Dressed in blue jeans and a white t- shirt, she looked as pretty as ever, but she didn’t look the same somehow. Something was amiss. As she dragged her feet across the parking lot, I noticed smile missing from her rosy lips. I missed seeing her toothy smile, which would make her glisten in the morning sunlight. Her face seemed ashen compared to the glow she had a mere month ago.

She waved to Ashi, and was standing 4 inches in front of me now. She tried to smile, the pain clearly visible in her eyes. I couldn’t bear to look into her eyes. I could sense disappointment and anger…  towards me? her friends? or the entire world? I couldn’t tell. I looked away and tried to join the discussion going on, but to no avail cuz as soon as I had turned, I saw Mr Nanda walking towards us.

I announced his arrival and people rushed to the classroom in our two storied, excuse for a building tution center.

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As we walked out of the class discussing our lesson, I saw her almost trying to run out of there. But, thankfully, Ashi pulled her towards our usual adda just outside the door , exactly where we were standing in the morning.

We were all curious as to where she’d been for a month. I’d heard Ashi telling Saru that her parents had told her she was unwell. She repeated the exact same story, and everyone accepted without any questions.. but I couldn’t. There was something wrong.. worse than any illness..

She seemed in a hurry and started walking towards the car her father had sent, leaving me restless till the next time I’d see her.

P.S. If this was interesting, do tell me so that I keep working on it.. otherwise I think I’ll desert this story..

Another one….

Ok, I know tomorrow is my test and I am sitting here making a post at 2:30 in the morning, but when it strikes you, it’s better to get over with it, or the matter dilutes as I have come to learn.. Ok, here is my second story..(written while listening to Saawariya songs), it popped up in my head when I was browsing through BlueMists archives… Here it is:

His point of view:

I will definitely say it today, he thought, his brain not even keeping track of where his feet were going.

Ok, maybe not say “it”, no definitely not say “it”, I’ll just talk to her, be friends with her, but what to say?

He noticed that he had just reached the library. He walked over and sat at his usual spot, at the entrance of the room, where he could clearly see her.

Ok, what should I say, maybe i should ask her the time.. but damn, the library has a clock and I have one too. Man I am such a loser, two weeks it’s been, grow up man! Ok, first stop staring, yes concentrate on your books, now what should you say? Maybe you should ask her name, but why would she tell you? Ok…ok, how about her class, she studies here too, but why should she tell you, the question still remains asshole..

DON’T STARE AT HER!!, oh god you are too pathetic, you can’t even stop looking at her.. I am telling you, you are just obsessing, it was just what Steven said it was.. a one-itis. Ok, she is looking at me, this is a good sign. I hope. Ok, just ask her if she knows where the book is. What book? Any fucking book, do you care.. just break the ice.

Ok, I am going to do it, I’ll ask her where LOTR is. No, that’ll tell her I am a geek..heh. Ok, I’ll ak her about that Karl Marx book. Ok, I can do it.. just plain and easy..remember, be smooth!

He took a deep breath and started to walk towards her, but she got up and left and he just continued walking forward and stopped at the rack at the far end of the room.

Maybe tomorrow.. no, definitely tomorrow!

Her point of view:

Mmm..ok, so this equation..gosh, profs are so damn unfair, they don’t even explain things properly and we have to waste time in the library digging up theory…

After some time..

Oh no, that guy is back! He has been following me around for two weeks. Guys can be so weird sometimes.. I guess I should complain to someone, who knows what goes on in the minds of these ass holes. I mean just stop staring.. FREAK! Ok, good he’s noticed, now go on and leave me alone. OMG he’s coming towards me, I am not getting these equations anyway, I guess I should get out of here..

She stands up and walks out of the library sternly…

I don’t know what I am going to do about this guy.. Ok, I am going to tell my brother, he ought to straighten the idiot out.. but what am I gonna do about these equations.. better ask Jen if she can explain them to me…….

Comments are always welcome 🙂

The first piece of fiction by me, but…… is it really fiction?

Ok, I know I haven’t posted in very long, but I was writing this story and it just took more time than I expected cause I wanted to be perfect….

Here’s my first fiction – be as ruthless with the review as you can… seriously 😉

It’s hard. Even though you know it’s coming towards you, and no matter how much you try to ignore it or deny it, the day is coming when she will no longer be with you. And standing here, right next to her body being placed inside the coffin, you realize that although you knew this was bound to happen soon, you just don’t accept it, you just can’t imagine your life without her. I look at her face for the last time as the lid is closed. I still remember the first time I saw her, the charm that she had even forced a shy boy like me to cross the room and ask her for a dance. The charm is lost now, replacing her face with a dull look…

This church, it’s the same that we got married in. The place was someday filled with laughter and celebration, and now the silence seems to be eating me inside out. It felt dark and cold, when it was the most bright place that day, on our wedding day. I still remember that kiss, that marked as the beginning of our journey together, a journey where I was left all alone now.
Everybody starts to leave as it draws to a close, but I stand there. I don’t think I am through yet. I start crying slowly getting down on my knees unaware that there are people behind me, watching me and I guess, pitying me…

“Tom…. Tom, come on let’s go buddy”

I start to get up, wiping my eyes, feeling someone’s hand on my shoulder…

“We all loved her……..”

Enclosed in a hug, my thoughts drift towards the past, all that I have left of her now, all that I can still hold on to. I remember how I fell in love with Emily. It wasn’t a moment of lightning or love at first sight. But, I still remember the moment when we were dancing together at our farewell party from college and I knew that she was the one…. It was the best night of my life. Watching her sleep next to me in the early hours of the morning, I remember her tender breathing and realizing how lucky I was to have her….

“No, I’m fine.. I can drive on my own.. Please! I want to be alone….”

This was the same car, yes, but I feel weird driving it without her by my side. I could still smell her in there and I remember……… those long drives and secluded hours with her, holding her hand on the way to the hospital, while she was panting and sweating, trying to draw in long breaths having contractions every few minutes… remember sitting silently next to her, while crying a river inside, on our way to the same hospital to get her cancer reports…. my breath stopping for that one moment when the doctor said sorry, remembe watching my future crumble right in front of my eyes, but still being quite trying to keep her positive…..

“Tom, she is sleeping in her room, do you want me to stay over?”

“No, really, thanx for all your help, Jen”

Sitting there on the living room couch now, with that whiskey going down my throat, burning my insides as I sipped, it all came back to me. Her face painted with sadness floated in front of me along with the last two years in a flash……

I remember sitting by her side when she was being prepared for her first surgery and praying for everything to be ok, fearing the side effects of the chemotherapy we had heard, and then seeing her health slowly declining as the chemotherapy went on, seeing all the side effects I had heard about in front of my eyes and that too, inflicting their cruelty on my Emily, but still saying positive and hoping that everything would be all right, that this would be the end of it….. And as the chemotherapy came to a close, feeling helpless, that we were doing nothing about it, that I could do nothing against it, just wait and pray that this was our final visit to the hosptial… feeling a little relieved day by day seeing her get a little fitter….

And feeling restless and worried when she got that pain in her shoulder, just a day before her last appointment…. feeling angry and lost when we were told that she had developed cancer again, but no, I couldn’t lose, I had to keep on the fight for ourselves, our daughter, our future, and I remember how I had carried a tearful Emily from the hospital to our home, without shedding a single tear… I couldn’t give up.

I felt like I was losing her while she was growing more depressed and weak, on the strong chemotherapy treatment she was undergoing… feeling helpless, nothing to be done while the one you love is slowly being taken away from you… I remember those sleepless nights, when listening to her crying, I gave her a hug and told her everything would be ok… but not really believing it myself… remember when she got more and more ill, the cancer having spread to other parts of her body, even growing anaemic and I couldn’t bear it to see her like that and wondered whether it would be better if she was free of all the pain at last…… remember accepting it at last and trying to make her last days memorable and happy…. and remember that last glint in her eyes when she finally surrendered to death…………..

I couldn’t take it anymore and finished the bottle of whisky in a final swig, hoping it might distract the pain… As I climbed the stairs, I found myself going towards my room. But, then I saw her, at the end of the flight of stairs, the door of her room ajar. I saw her sleeping peacefully in her cot with not a line of worry on her face, and I couldn’t help but think…

When the pain becomes unbearable, we try to cut the strings of our life, want to fall into the abyss, we try to surrender to the dark paths of sorrow, to end it all, but these strings have some other ends attached to them now, and these keep us from falling…. we have to try to get up and hold on to them, keep them strong, make a fresh start even if one escapes our grip……….

P.S. I want to dedicate this to all those single fathers all over the world who still have the courage to go on. They inspired me to write this story (some blogs of single fathers) and I want to thank them for sharing their story with us. I was gonna write another story about a hitman otherwise. Seriously guys, its much easier to just write about it, more than hell to go through with it.

P.S. It is also dedicated to my parents, cuz if they weren’t there, I wouldn’t be, so……

Eight Things…….

Well, I was reading a blog, and a post had been done by this person, about eight things he’s passionate about, and I thought that was really cool, so here goes my post:

Eight things I am passionate about

Okay let’s see;

1) Movies: Yes, Movies are my biggest passion. I like watching new movies everyday, but sadly my internet connection is slow and it takes me about 2 days to download one. I currently have a “to download” list of about 150 movies. I am so passionate about movies, that I wanna be a director.

2) Psychology: I like to understand how people’s minds work. I like to know why someone did something, and what inspired him to do so. I like to understand human nature, and keep reading my sister’s graduation course books of psychology. And I’m not blowing my trumpets, but I’m really good.

3) Science: I like Biology and Physics, because I like to know the mysterious ways in which nature works. I have always liked human biology, because I wanna know how my body works and reacts. It’s kind of related to my psychology passion. Physics, is total bliss. Einstein is my idol and I love studying quantum mechanics and the string theory.

4) Day Dreaming: I day dream a lot, and I mean a lot. I spend more time day dreaming than I spend studying. I dream about my future life, and ow I would like certain things in my life to be. I often react to things like…”I wouldn’t have done it like this, when I have kids, I’ll do it like that.”

5) Writing: Yes, I like writing, but not my homework, I despise that. But I squeeze out story ideas out of every situation or every tv show I watch, and I have a notepad file full of these ideas. I imagine real characters, so that I understand them. And until, I finish a novel, this blog is my let out.

6) Changing the world: Yes, I’ve always wanted to change the world. In fact, when I used to learn or hear about some important personality, I would immediately think, “When did he die? Maybe I’m his incarnation!”, And this has come with almost all personalities I’ve known about. I try to find similar traits between us and try to connect with him. But, even if I’m not an incarnation of a famous person, I’d like to make a difference in the human world and be famous now.

7) Money: I love money and the feeling that comes from having a lot of it. I want to be a multi billionaire, by hook or by crook. Hell, I’d even rob a bank, ok! I’m kidding, but I do want to be rich. I want me to be able to afford everything that I might want.

8 ) Life: Yes, I want to be immortal. I have always feared death and I never want to die. When I watched “The man from the earth” I thought maybe I’ll be like that, but I’ll only get to know when I’m thirty, but even if I’m not like that guy, I’d like to invent some medicine, which would change my DNA structure, so that I never die. I’ll never get tired of living.

Also, this isn’t my passion, but I’d like to remove the division of man into religious and skin color based groups. Every person is different and unique and his ideals and thoughts must not be trampled in the name of religion or that if they belong to the same color,” they must have a similar opinion” kind of thing, and also abolish reservation, cuz it just hurts unity.

Hey, tell me about your passions in the comments, if you’d like……