Once you thought

Once upon a time, people used to think. We heaped praise on those who thought and condemned those who did not. Every little action and word was analyzed from every possible view. Each topic for discussion allowed for views and counter-views. Even if nothing was expressed, we rotated the levers of the gears in our minds. We thought.

No book was just a book. It was a beautiful enchanted creature not dissimilar from the ones populating television screens in the early mornings of our childhood. A table was a toy, a fortress, and one clad with a cloth cover was a treat in itself. Beds were always delightful. They were the grounds for childish fights, wrestling rings and even late-night cram sessions. But they were best with blankets. Burrowing oneself under the blankets let you lose yourself to the world above and endear yourself to the world under the blankets. In the blanket world, everybody was warm and caring and smiles were currency. There, the world cared.

We couldn’t let a damp day go by like any other day. Each day had its own flavor but damp overcast days would always take the cake. Standing next to the window, in the balcony, or on the terrace provoked feelings strange and profound. I have sought out those feelings numerous times since, and have never achieved that exact happiness. But I try. And when I try, a familiar feeling threatens to drag me back to those damp days. Fleeting as the feeling may be, it keeps me jovial for most of the day. Those days are the best days.

Work is a lifelong battle. No, a war. It is a war where you fall, hurt yourself, are healed, and then restart the cycle. When you thought about war, you would imagine objects and people flying in the heat of war. Your chariot was custom-made, tank General Patton-like and weapons were absolutely futuristic. Back then, futuristic meant laser beams and force-field generators.

You didn’t defeat people, you defeated armies and continents. Human life was not valued and you never counted casualties. Even now, we don’t count casualties or value life. But now, a few of us know it matters. And for those to whom it matters, nothing else could ever matter more. They need the power of make-believe more than anyone else.

You never pictured the clouds beyond white tufts of cotton candy. But at least you noticed them. The clouds mattered then and not the glaring intensity of the sun. You now curse that very sun without the slightest hint of repentance. The stars twinkled at night and you craned your neck to catch patterns your science book promised they would make. You kept your promises then. And, you thought.

The days ticked by, each day, and you were richer when you thought about that day. Now, you try to forget your days. You erase whatever you did throughout the day so that you can sleep at night. You wish for time to speed by and when it does, you wonder why.

Every act is questioned till you resign yourself to the inevitability of it all and lock away your questions. The questions have no meaning until they are smart questions asked at smart moments. You live for those smart moments and questions, not for all the other moments and questions. Earlier on, you lived for every moment, and in every question. There was nothing like a stupid question, just a silly answer. But then again, that was back in the days when you thought.

Now, you fight. You let fly with verbal and physical barbs which leave you an agitated person. You guard yourself in a mortal manner. Your thoughts are locked away in the imaginary safe in your head as you shield your ability to think. Your vociferous appeals drowned out in the cacophony of all that is bland and dour. Frowned upon in today’s society, our thought crime is thought. The world, our world was a better place when we thought. We don’t need dissent for we have thought. Let’s think, again.

This article was previously published on my emagazine startup- blahmagazine.in and my tumblr- arjunjuneja.tumblr.com