Anything is possible and that’s the problem!
Weirdest of events unfold in my dreams. How many of you dream of stuff that doesn’t exist at all? No, I am not talking about unrequited crush from your salad days. I am referring to strange plots which features you as a master spy stuck in some Algerian hotel and talking fluently to people in Arabic. And while you are at it, you are also an expert pilot. Sadly, I’ve never managed to see myself in the mirror in any far-fetched dreams because it’d be awesome to look at my face during such moments. Arabic? I can barely speak English without sounding like an indifferent douche. Planes? Still figuring out to ensure how not to mix up clutch with brake in the car. Anyway, I watch the most elaborate productions with my eyes tight shut. In a recent episode, I was petting a full-grown lion with so much confidence that it was unbelievable. These moments appear well-rehearsed to me but on digging deeper, it’s a doubled-sided sword. In all these dreams, I am doing things I would never do otherwise and that too with such finesse that I am amazed by my own self. It’s weird because I am seeing myself and quite possibly, narrating in the background like Morgan Freeman. Perhaps I overcompensate my lack of adventure and drama in real life with my eyes closed. In simple words, I don’t rest well; perturbed while awake, disturbed while asleep.
When you are observing foreign characters in your dreams, it’s fine. You don’t have a history (or geography) with any of them so nobody is going to judge you there. However, when you are going through a dream with familiar people, you tend to become extra conscious. You often behave with them the way you’d believe in your everyday life. The craziest dreams, in my experience, are the ones that feel like an unanswered video call. The sort where you feel like you’ve given too much of yourself and are now too conscious to wake up and meet those familiar folks in real life.
Did you know that the Swahili word for colour is ‘rangi’? I didn’t either before today happened. You see, the Hindustani word ‘rang’ means colour too and has a base in Sanskrit, with emphasis on ‘ang’ (meaning body) in it. After noticing this correlation, I am wondering about the eternal question of humankind — “Is anything impossible?” in the lingual family. If a word spoken in the heart of Africa can resonate with a language spoken miles away, with little to no historic links, anything is indeed possible. We are connected in ways we can’t really put a finger on. On the other end of the argument, the Welsh for dragonfly is ‘gwas y neidr’ which translates as “servant of the snake”. I am dead sure no other language has anything to do with this profound designation.
Having been raised in a lower middle class setting, a lot of emphasis was laid on not wasting resources. We weren’t allowed to waste food, water, electricity, anything that costs money. We learned at an early age that even air costs money: the puncturewala on the street corner expected to be paid for employing his air pump on your bicycle tyres. So, we ended up being hopelessly frugal. People of my background invented austerity long before Germany started imposing it on Greece. We don’t waste anything and we don’t buy unless there is an absolute necessity. So, with such stringent mindset, it bothers me no end to see people wasting electricity in cities. Apparently, it’s cool to leave the lights and fans on when nobody is using them. I wonder why these people don’t water as liberally as they waste power. My best guess is water makes noise when it’s wasted — and that can be extremely annoying; even a dripping faucet can keep you up at night — but electricity doesn’t make any noise when it’s being squandered by entitled idiots.
Until the beginning of 2020, I had zero interest in learning how to drive a car. Much against my grain, I decided to step outside my comfort zone and took driving lessons. The idea was pretty simple: no point staying in comfort zone when you aren’t even sure how vast the zone is. After completing the mandatory classes, I started borrowing friends’ old cars for short spins. Now, I am at that phase where I want to own a second/third-hand car to improve my driving skills. Basic lessons are clear but practicals are supposed to get tougher as Indian roads can be unforgiving to those who assume everybody follows the traffic rules. I like to believe that these progressions are in tune with my desire to step out of the aforementioned zone but to be very frank, I think it appeals to the primal nature of our species: total control. We like to be in control of entities that are independent from us but are still under our control. For instance, a four-wheeler.
The greatest difference between my brother and I is he is actually working towards his PhD. I made tall claims in my 20s but never pushed for a doctorate. Despite my strong inclinations towards doing something in the field of ethical journalism — yes, journalism is nothing without ethics — just look at the state of media in our country today — I kept dragging my feet. With less than two months from turning 34, maybe it’s high time I pulled my socks and did the needful. PhD is like being in a mini-marriage and I feel it’s a feasible task. As long as you are alive, anything is possible. Remember how, in 1990, Thomas Trobaugh co-authored a maths paper despite being dead, after he appeared to Bob Thomason in a dream to explain some of the ideas?
Even if you are the dullest person you know, keep your life interesting. Armed with an open mind and a kind heart, you can achieve everything you set yourself to. For instance, I accept that I don’t lead a happening life. In fact, I am allergic to happeningness. Friday night plans? No, thanks. Weekend trips? Let me think about it and never get back to you on it. On the surface, my IQ (Interesting Quotient) is remarkably low but I am keen on keeping my life interesting by engaging in little pursuits. They don’t have to beckon others. Like I am immensely interested in identifying all the colours/shades (enough of inadequate primary/secondary colours), know the names of all the birds around me and how they sound like (no, not everything is chidiya) and differentiate between plants/trees (sorry, botany is far from boring). 2020 is all about little goals that shouldn’t matter to others. Only you.
According to my wife, I resent children more than anything in the world. She might be partially correct but it always astonishes me how some toddlers are innately tender. At a very young age, they show signs of empathy and are keen on understanding the world around them. I recently met a five-year-old boy who falls in this category. This fellow did something so sweet that I don’t think I will ever forget. My friend was feeling sleepy on the couch as we were watching TV after a heavy dinner. So before dozing off, she told the boy that she will be falling asleep soon. Our hero, seeing her doze off, rests his head on her shoulder, to make her feel that she has his support in her endeavour to catch some shuteye. Of course, great parenting goes a long way in developing good kids but these actions are a result of something a person is born with. You can’t teach anybody how to be kind. You can only teach them the virtues of kindness.
Tibetan Buddhism and Persian Zoroastrianism may not have a lot in common but their idea of final goodbye is strikingly similar. In both the tenets, the dead body is left for the wild animals and birds to feast upon, before the microbes finish the cadaver. Although I am driven more by culture than religion, I strongly feel this is exactly what I want my survivors to do to my dead body. Once the essential organs are harvested, I want to be left alone in the forest or on some hilltop where I will be able to provide food for the hungry. One last time.
Dopamine. Cortisol. Serotonin. Endorphin. Oxytocin. The list goes on and on. We are basically guinea pigs for these non-existent-yet-existent masters inside us. I am on the down right now because my hunt for a reasonably good second-hand car hasn’t come to fruition. I’ve been trying all the possible websites and bidding on cars I like but to my bad luck, none of the owners have bothered to respond. But then, it’s better to wait and get something decent than to be impatient and end up with something regrettable. On that optimistic note, do let me know if you are keen on selling me your used car. Thank you in advance.
