33.
I turned a year older today. Feels like yesterday I was barely 32.
There can be several ways to look at the manner in which we truly age. All things said and done, wrinkles and greys don’t do justice to our journey; sleepless nights and weary days are already part of the deal. Nobody is sweating alone in the arid desert; nobody is sleeping alone under the starry sky either. Still, some of us can count our achievements without losing our grip on reality. Most of us…errm… exist. Nothing wrong with either but it’s worth wondering why do we do what we do when we aren’t sure why do we live in the first place?
Personally, I am very fond of life. My writing leans towards the dark (as a subject) and hopeless (as a species) but the foundation of my message is quite linear: it’s always fine because it can always get worse. Why? Because as our days pass by, the more I become convinced of a purpose in my breathing. It might appear to me how vacuous an existence I lead but I can hear murmurs from the universe which suggests there might be a bigger picture in place. And I am too immature to gauge the overall design. All I must, in the meantime, is just keep progressing from one branch to another, from one cloud to another, one wave to another — continuing till the very end of time.
At least this has been my latest learning.
10 years ago, I thought I was smart enough to know that I am foolish.
As of now, I believe I am foolish enough to overestimate my smartness.
For good or for better, we are easily influenced by our surroundings. Words people use, gaits people display, theories people float… everything affects us. A human mind and body is a sponge of the worst kind. And yet, we place all our bets on our uniqueness (read: individuality). What is so special about you if you are evolving every second?
Such questions bother me nowadays. A strange sign of ageing, isn’t it?
Speaking of declining stamina, I harbour worldly desires too like publishing a fabulous book someday, teaching kids in a college, listening to parents for a change, and retiring early off to the coasts. It might be insincere to suggest I have no interest in shaping my legacy though. However, my concerns are less about gaining fame and more about carving a body of work that would outlast everything else that I’ve done so far. There are no coordinated plans to execute any of these objectives anytime soon. But, who knows?
Again, speaking of knowledge, maybe intuition is the real deal. After years of picking up useless trivia and dropping mind-blowing factoids from under the carpet of the Internet and library tomes, I’ve arrived at a relieving conclusion: wisdom is what adds meaning; everything else adds noise. That said, I won’t stop posting my nano-popular useless-trivia-of-the-day rubbish on Instagram. Keeping up with the great tradition of Tech Age, people should learn something that literally doesn’t do anything for them.
If I reach 34 and write a follow-up blog post, I will ask myself only one question: how close am I to attaining nirvana? At 33, Jesus had not only returned from the dead twice but already ensured that the flow of time is divided into two. At 33, Bruce Lee died giving birth to a legend of near perfection. At 33, a lot of folks accomplished a lot of stuff without dying.
Plot twist: These individuals aren’t my role-models.
My current favourite is Gautama. At 35, he attained enlightenment on a full moon night under a tree and went on to change the way we think and live. Fortunately, there were Buddhas before him and there were Buddhas after him. Unfortunately, we know too little about them, mainly due to their elusive ways with silence. (Even Gautama didn’t bother to write down any of his teachings.) Over the next two years, I won’t turn into a Buddha but I hope I come to understand the reasons why I won’t.
