Sisyphus..??

More than a month has passed since I wrote anything. I tried many times but was never able to finish. I think writing is an act of confidence. The confidence of believing that whatever is passing through your head is also worth penning down. I was not really that sure of myself for the past one month. For that matter, I wasn't sure even when I started writing, and I am not sure today. I guess today I am in a mood of rebellious self assertion. I want to fight my demons. So these are not words that I am writing, these are my feeble attempts at reclaiming some dignity and meaning for myself. Every word I write, every sentence I create is me, trying to give myself something to hold on to..

When did this happen? When did I start being so afraid of words? That they will somehow reveal and establish this feeling of worthlessness and waste that i barely succeed in hiding from others?
It's not as if i haven't faced disappointments before. I have. I have failed, recovered, failed again. I think I have always had this vast reservoir of hope inside me that refused to go dry, and never let me feel depressed about anything. I have always, truly believed in myself. I have always felt that I was better. Every time I failed, I told myself and readily believed the countless excuses that were always there. But I think the reason I was always happy with myself is that I have always been a thorough optimist. I liked having possibilities in my life. I truly believed that one day, I am going to have a life that will make all these petty failures, disappointments seem pointless.

But as we grow older, the possibilities start to dwindle away. One after another, your dreams start flying out of your reach. but you still keep chasing after the ones you are left with. You don't really know if the dreams you have let pass you by were the ones meant  for you or the ones that are left. You want to believe that you didn't  really have an option. Or did you?
Then there comes a time when it finally hits you. That you are not as special as you thought you were. You are just an ordinary person like countless others around you. That you can't wish away the imperfections of the life that you have created for yourself. That this is all there is to it and there are no more real possibilities, dreams or visions left for you. That you had been waiting in vain for some magic to happen. And that freedom will always be mocking you and keep getting away till the point that you even forget to long for it.

At times like these, you can't do anything except clinging to whatever that is good in you life, and clinging to it with such desperation and fear that it sucks out all the beauty of it. Fears and insecurities rule your life and that flimsy curtain of lies and excuses finally gives way under the weight of the ugly truth. That is when you raise your eyes to the small postcard size calenders and glossy pictures of gods tucked away carelessly in the sides of your rusted almirah and look for some assurance that things will get better. They never fail, my calenders. The lotus shaped eyes and the raised hands in blessing seem like the only thing that is keeping you alive. They don't let you stare too long at the blinding truth of the meaninglessness and worthlessness of your life. They let the tears come out and make everything hazy again. I wish they would also heal this constant pain in my chest. I wish they would make me love myself again. and the hopes that I keep repeating to myself wouldn't ring so hollow.

but that is something that I'll have to do on my own. I will have to learn to stop looking towards others for my own happiness. I will have to dig beneath this sea of despondence and find the strength inside me that I know is still there, buried somewhere. I will keep trying even in the face of this realization of the futility of it all. I will keep pushing my rock up the hill. I am not going to accept defeat. I will be happy.

Love these lines by Camus :)

“I leave Sisyphus at the foot of the mountain. One always finds one's burden again. But Sisyphus teaches the higher fidelity that negates the gods and raises rocks. He too concludes that all is well. This universe henceforth without a master seems to him neither sterile nor futile. Each atom of that stone, each mineral flake of that night-filled mountain, in itself, forms a world. The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.”

Remnants of faith..

There is a huge Banyan tree on the road leading to my place. There is nothing unusual about the tree in itself.  I am lucky to be living in a particularly green neighbourhood and this tree happens to be just one of many huge trees there. However, what is special about it is a big round platform surrounding it. It is cluttered with the most fascinating display of old and broken pictures of gods, faded plastic garlands, earthen lamps, and what not. You have all the gods there- Shiva, Rama, Hanuman, Ganesha, Durga in various stages of decay and dilapidation. All the mythology of Hinduism at one place, bringing to one's mind this carnival of so many stories and characters mixed up and confused  with each other. I wondered if the tree realizes what a huge burden it has to carry, how important its role is. All the remnants of their faith that people don't know what to do with, are quietly left at the altar of this tree which, incidentally, is also  regarded as being "holy". This stamp of holiness makes it all right for people to clean out  the mess of their small home shrines and decorate them with new and shiny gods and clothe them in fresh, red and gold dresses.

The other day I witnessed something unusual. A middle aged sweeper was scolding a man near the Banyan tree. It was interesting to see this man, well dressed and from a good family, being taken to task and meekly listening to the scoldings of this woman. This was something new, as it's generally the other way round, so I was naturally curious and quickened my steps. As it turned out, the man was caught red-handed leaving leftovers from some ritual ceremony near the tree. The sweeper's point was that she is the one who has to clean out all this mess.

This was a revelation for me. I had never considered the idea that all that clutter also had to be cleaned up. I used to think of the platform as this black hole gobbling everything up as it comes. This magical place that always has space for new old things. The woman's next words gave me something to think about. "Kya mera dharam nahi hai? Do I not have a faith?" So the burden of cleaning out and keeping new the old and broken faith of the people was not actually borne by the tree as I used to believe. It was this woman's doing. She was the one who had to sweep away all the one legged Krishnas and the earless Ganeshas and feel a pang of committing a sin every time she did this. She was the one who was taking over the blame of all the well dressed middle class humanity of our neighbourhood. And was probably going to hell for that, in her mind at least. I felt sorry for the woman.

Poor people don't really have the luxury of having a "dharma" I guess. That is for the likes of us, who can keep buying new gods.

Clueless..

So I finally have a blog now. I have been racking my brains to think of something unique for its name. You know, it should reflect who I am in a perfectly witty, intelligent, original way and yet not be too pretentious. It should proclaim to the world that  is eagerly and breathlessly awaiting my arrival in the blogging arena, how amazingly brilliant and creative I am. So after hours of looking at other people's blogs for "inspiration", I finally settled for this. Frog in the well. kupa manduka in Sanskrit. Frog that thought her well was the whole world, and the little portion of the sky she could see, the whole universe. Being a woman in her late twenties who has never really been on her own, I can completely relate to the poor girl. Perhaps she never got an opportunity to go out and explore the ocean. Perhaps she lay awake looking at that round and  shiny blue pie and wondered if there was more to see if she could just crawl her way out. Perhaps. Or maybe she was just a lazy coward. 

Anyways, I have been staring at the screen and thinking of all the topics I had been planning to write on. and I am completely clueless. Maybe tomorrow I'll think of something that I have a passionate opinion about. Till then, take care.. the world beyond my wall :)