Monday, May 30, 2011

The one without a title, agenda or direction...

Spirals. That's what the world is made up of, I am convinced, even if this conviction is merely another one of the theories I manage to convince myself with on a weekly or fortnightly basis to explain the inherent randomness that life is (Last week I called it destiny). Borrowing from a blog post by my friend Arslan, everything moves in continuous spirals in some particular direction, until an external force comes along to disturb status quo, and sets off another spiral in a completely new direction. There is no other way I can understand how things move from 1 seemingly obvious, there's-no-other-way direction into something completely tangent or opposite, leaving the person in the midst of it completely confused and bewildered.

Obsession comes easily to neurotic personalities, I guess. I am one of those. And so when I get into things, I really get into them, surrounding myself with a false reality which I believe will last me forever. I make it my world, whether its a material object, a person or more commonly some form of activity which I enjoy. I dream and day dream about it, and take it to ridiculous lengths, imagining myself doing it for the rest of my life, wanting to do it with every living breath, wanting it to occupy all of my faculties. It's a strange sense of addiction, but something which is completely overpowering. The spiral has started. On and on it will go, taking me to new highs. Things fall into place, everything seems to be working just the way I want. The world deceives, it seems to conform to my rose-tinted view. It tempts and it taunts, events happen which fool this eternal romantic into believing that it is happening because it was supposed to, or some such jazz. On and on it leads the unsuspecting fool, till he is ready to give everything for it and take the plunge. An ocean of clouds await below, just beyond the edge, as if waiting to embrace the jumper in their arms and take him higher.

Suddenly, as quickly as it all started, a switch goes off somewhere. Standing at the edge of the cliff, a little bit of soil crumbles underneath and rolls off. I move back with a start. Woah! What was I doing there? The spiral is broken. No matter how hard I try, the cliff edge is too far away, the jump seems crazy. The fluffy clouds have disappeared to reveal a forbidding (from a jumping point of view!) valley. Yes, the winds might carry me, but what if they don't?

It's as if you've just got out of a dream. Suddenly, it all looks different. Try as you might, you cannot feel the way you did before. The world suddenly seems completely different, the colored glasses have disappeared. Life is the disjointed, random mess that it always has been, now that the trip is over.

Broken spirals are darn tough to mend. They sit like obstinate schoolboys with their hands crossed over their chests, refusing to be cajoled into action. You try everything you did earlier. You push, you plead, you try to summon the biggest of external forces to create that push. And yet, nothing happens. You take another half-hearted shot at what you believed you wanted for the rest of your life at one point in time, only to realize that your heart is not in it. You still produce good work, stuff that makes you happy, yet you cannot resist the overwhelming urge to stop. The camera gathers a layer of dust that would have appalled you a year ago, the lenses become habitats for micro-organisms. The blog becomes a forgotten page with memories which seem to come straight from a lifetime ago.

Why?

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