So, the last time I wrote something here, was a time when Kapil Dev was in polka dotted diapers and dinosaurs used to prance around the earth with gay abandon. Ok, that’s a slight exaggeration about the extent of my absence, but you get the drift.
Absenteeism reasons, though I assume you care more about the dirt stuck under the nail on your left little finger than my absenteeism reasons, range from being busy with a domesticated and less grandiose version of that part of Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Ghum where Bacchan Saab tells SRK that he must not marry Kajol (Oh yeah, now this is the part which makes my female friends go "oh wow! Bata na Bata na ") , to , settling in a job where the best part of my day remains hitting the coffee button on the sputtering machine or discovering the OS on my laptop has crashed or for the matter of fact…even my laptop has crashed this time.
But this being a late weekend night when I rest with a un-full tummy and nothing much on the TV , I think I will talk about something , which is totally unaligned with the kind of person I am . I mean , considering the kind of person I am , the deepest conversation I should be having should be about some animal with a real bad digestion , but I say with the unflinching honesty of a Vinod Kambli on Sach ka Saamna , I am not trying to seem like the next Aristotle here . All I am trying to do is talk rather pointlessly about something which has been hovering in the back alleys of my mind since this morning with the feeble yet significant buzz of a mosquito trapped in your ear canal – Death.
Death, you know. That part of life which ends it. Considering that I have not yet not died though many sensible people have tried to eradicate me , I don’t know how it must be after death , but I do imagine it to be very quiet , relaxed , solitary and chill after death . I am not sure if there is a heaven for the good guys and a hell for the bad guys, and as a result, I am not very concerned about the old woman I pushed off the stairs last week. I mean, you understand how annoying it is to be not being able to rush down the stairs because a 67 year old ahead of you moves slower than a sofa, don’t you? But the fact remains that I am going to die someday, whether it happens when I am digging into a hotdog (I hope I have finished the most of it by that time, mommy says food should not be wasted) or it happens when I am wedged between the rubber tires of a MSRTC bus, whether I am going to be regaled by Arabian dancers in some heaven, or be served as supper to hungry devils in a green tubelight-ed hell.
And you know, what I am thinking about is that moment, that moment which is sitting delicately at the end of the road called life as it ends, yet opens up into the unknown chasm called death. That moment, when I will be on the verge of being lifted by death, and I will know in my heart “Shit yaar, yeh end hai, ab picchar baaki nahi hai mere dost”. Now no “Dawa ya Dua” can save me!! No more people , no more movies , no cars , no boss , no relationships , no money , no smiles , no Himesh Reshammiya , no fights , no competitions , no career , no TV , nothing , after the event called Death.That moment, when I will know in my heart, that irrespective of my willingness to go or not, I would be gone next moment. In that moment, I imagine myself to feel guilty about the heart I broke, happy about the smile I brought on a face, sad about the moment I should have told my mother I loved her but did not, proud of the moment I believed in someone and stood by her, happy about the times I spent laughing with my friends, grateful for the moments somebody knew me as I am and accepted me, heartbroken about being a son lesser than a son I should have been. And just experiencing a little of that moment by writing about it, I am shocked by how easily do I forget what really matters. Kitni choti choti baton par senti ho jaata hoon main!! I mean, how easily I forget that I am going to die and a lot of stuff doesn’t really matter.
How easily do I forget that however blind I may try to be to my reality, that moment will thrust the sum of deeds in my face without leaving me with an escape route?
How easily do I allow myself to lose perspective and be drowned in the useless ego fights , pointlessly hurting the very people I love , choosing not to express my love just because I am too proud to do so , not taking that stupid seeming but heartfelt leap because I never have . How easily I forget the impending arrival of that last moment, and as a result, how easily I forget what really matters during the moments I have between now and that moment. How easily do I let myself be scared by the insecurities of a life unknown and continue to suffer a situation I don’t enjoy when that moment will snatch away whatever fake securities I build around myself. How easily I shut up my heart and listen to all the voices around me, when in the end, the only voice I should be hearing is the voice of my heart. How easily I forget death, and thus, how easily I forget how to live. I mean, sometimes I really need this perspective check and get out of the holed up thinking and view life in a more cool manner. Saala khul ke jeena bhool jaata hoon yaar. I mean, I act like I have a lot to lose and get all scared and calculated, when hai kya mere paas khone ke liye?
I know you are either confused or bored or both and would label the drivel above as some cheap regurgitation of some pocket sized Geeta I recently read. But you know, I am just talking to myself like those bollywood-ish village crack heads who roam around the village mumbling to themselves with their overgrown and uncombed hairstyles and are taunted and stoned by the half naked village urchins.
So chill, don’t walk out of this blog feeling all suicidal and kill yourself by smelling your own feet. Aise he baat kar raha tha kakke. And the movie season kicks in pretty soon now, with Kites already out and also crashed…and Rajneeti, Raavan following soon and I really need to spike up my movie watch counter this weekend. If any of you stays around Mumbai suburb and needs a company over a movie, I am totally in, though don’t think I am running some shady “friendship club” with those heart shaped ads in hindi newspapers. By the way, watched "What’s your Rashee” today, and even though the end is a bit “Hain??” types, the movie did seem pretty delightful and 'feel good' to me. Moral of the story - Harman Baweja is not that bad an actor. I mean, he is a bit wooden, but not exactly teak. Second moral of the story - Just because I noticed Harman does not mean I am not straight!
And so that would be all for the time being before I go back and cook some maggi for me now (Oh yes, it’s 03.48 in the night…ohh sorry early morning…or whatever you want to call this part….and I am really hungry, courtesy the fact that mommy offered me “kal ke raajma and parso ke chawal” for dinner)
Have a great time ahead!!
Happy reading….
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