The greatest writer I ever met — Journal 1
“To make Gods, you have to first make humans.” ~Sahil
I read his entire book, but these two lines made me fall in love with him:
Me: Why are you a writer?
Sahil: Because I am not good enough to be a poet.
The essence of humanity caught me by surprise that day. As a regular two legged beast, I always thought I would have humanity inherited… to the T. But we have all got it wrong. Like we can’t live without our phones and think of it as preposterous existing without them. But honestly, we have lived without them and thrived. Yes there are a lot of advancements that have come through because of this inter web network, but so has a lot of isolation and loneliness.
But I was in a different era when I met Sahil. I completely different world, where these things didn’t matter. He had created a new world around him and its presence was unmistakable. The aura… so strong, so powerful… so convincing.
He was a God, living amongst us Humans, preparing for something, something big. Analysing our behaviour, our pattern, our habits, studying us. You could see he had struggled, was still struggling, the scars of his brain amplified in the aura that diluted his human form.
I was speechless. I had finally found someone… someone like him. I went back that day and read his book again. I could have killed myself that day. I didn’t want to live after that. The pain… the angst… the suffering, how could I ever live.
The world I had come to know and love was nothing but a false representation of my own conscience, to make my surroundings habitable. Blind we have walked, deafly we have heard, silently we have existed. We have welcomed this regime of existence. We have surrendered to the atrocities because we are too scared? No… He told me, we are tired. We always thought it was laziness that hindered our ambitions, but it’s the ache in our head, the pressure of a thousand tons that weighs us down, every time we think of something unfamiliar.
“We have too less Time, in this world. We need more, to realise our full potential.”he explained. “Our teen and our adolescence is spent learning stuff that we would never use, but might have implications on our future. We are always running, we have to or we would be left behind. And it is true. We would really be left behind. Luck might get you through, for a while. But it will run out.”
Every memory, every record of all my procrastinations, suddenly came rushing back and I could feel the pressure that weighed upon me then, so clearly. Crushed from all sides, I felt paralysed by his words, persecuted by his thoughts and shattered by his realisation.
There are many kinds of love, honestly, too many. But this was more…I was irrevocably in love with his innocence, the dark mystery that engulfed him. I wanted to be him, I wanted to be like him, I wanted him to be me.
He passed away last week, emotionally. But he left a part of him, with me. His recordings, his voice, his ideas, will be released every Sunday, as an ode to him.