So , the last time I wrote something here , was a time when Kapil Dev was in polka dotted diapers and dinosaurs used to prance around the earth with gay abandon . Ok , that’s a slight exaggeration about the extent of my absence , but you get the drift.
Absenteeism reasons , though I assume you care more about the dirt stuck under the nail on your left little finger than my absenteeism reasons , range from being busy with a domesticised and less grandiose version of that part of Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Ghum where Bacchan Saab tells SRK that he must not marry Kajol ( Oh yeah , now this is the part which makes my female friends go "oh wow ! Bata na Bata na ") , to , settling in a job where the best part of my day remains hitting the coffee button on the sputtering machine or discovering the OS on my laptop has crashed.
But this being a late weekend night when I rest with a un-full tummy ( you know , with the advent of better preservation gadgets , my mom has really minimised cooking now ) and nothing much on the TV , I think I will talk about something , which is totally unaligned with the kind of person I am . I mean , considering the kind of person I am , the deepest conversation I should be having should be about some elephant with a real bad digestion , but I say with the unflinching honesty of a Vinod Kambli on Sach ka Saamna , I am not trying to seem like the next Aristotle here . All I am trying to do is talk rather pointlessly about something which has been hovering in the back alleys of my mind since this morning with the feeble yet significant buzz of a mosquito trapped in your ear canal – Death.
Death , you know . That part of life which ends it . Considering that I have not yet not died though many sensible people have tried to eradicate me , I don’t know how it must be after death , but I do imagine it to be very quiet , relaxed , solitary and chill after death . I am not sure if there is a heaven for the good guys and a hell for the bad guys , and as a result , I am not very concerned about the old woman I pushed off the stairs last week . I mean , you understand how annoying it is to be not be able to rush down the stairs because a 67 year old ahead of you moves slower than a sofa , don’t you ? But the fact remains that I am going to die someday , wether it happens when I am digging into a hotdog ( I hope I have finished the most of it by that time , mommy says food should not be wasted ) or it happens when I am wedged between the rubber tyres of a DTC bus , whether I am going to be regaled by Arabian dancers in some heaven , or be served as supper to hungry devils in a green tubelight-ed hell .
And you know , what I am thinking about is that moment , that moment which is sitting delicately at the end of the road called life as it ends , yet opens up into the unknown chasm called death . That moment , when I will be on the verge of being lifted by death , and I will know in my heart “Shit yaar , yeh end hai , ab picchar baaki nahi hai mere dost” . Now no “Dawa ya Dua” can save me ! No people , no movies , no cars , no boss , no relationships , no money , no smiles , no Himesh Reshammiya , no fights , no competitions , no career , no TV , nothing , after the event called Death .
That moment , when I will know in my heart , that irrespective of my willingness to go or not , I would be gone next moment . In that moment , I imagine myself to feel guilty about the heart I broke , happy about the smile I brought on a face , sad about the moment I should have told my mother I loved her but did not , proud of the moment I believed in someone and stood by her , happy about the times I spent laughing with my friends , grateful for the moments somebody knew me as I am and accepted me , heartbroken about being a son lesser than a son I should have been . And just experiencing a little of that moment by writing about it , I am shocked by how easily do I forget what really matters . Kitni choti choti baton par senti ho jaata hoon main ! I mean , how easily do I forget that I am going to die and a lot of stuff doesn’t really matter . How easily do I forget that however blind I may try to be to my reality , that moment will thrust the sum of deeds in my face without leaving me with an escape route . How easily do I allow myself to lose perspective and be drowned in the useless ego fights , pointlessly hurting the very people I love , choosing not to express my love just because I am too proud to do so , not taking that stupid seeming but heartfelt leap because I never have . How easily I forget the impending arrival of that last moment , and as a result , how easily I forget what really matters during the moments I have between now and that moment . How easily do I let myself be scared by the insecurities of a life unknown and continue to suffer a situation I don’t enjoy when that moment will snatch away whatever fake securities I build around myself . How easily I shut up my heart and listen to all the voices around me , when in the end , the only voice I will have to hear is the voice of my heart . How easily I forget death , and thus , how easily I forget how to live . I mean , sometimes I really need this perspective check and get out of the holed up thinking and view life in a more cool manner . Saala khul ke jeena bhool jaata hoon yaar . I mean , I act like I have a lot to lose and get all scared and calculated , when hai kya mere paas khone ke liye ?
I know you are either confused , or bored , or both and would label the drivel above as some cheap regurgitation of some pocket book sized Geeta I recently read . But you know , I am just talking to myself , like those bollywood-ish village crackheads who roam around the village mumbling to themselves with their overgrown and uncombed hairstyles and are taunted and stoned by the half naked village urchins .
So chill , don’t walk out of this blog feeling all suicidal and kill yourself by smelling your own feet . Aise hee baat kar raha tha kakke . And the movie season kicks in pretty soon now , with Wake up Sid and Do Knot Disturb released today , and I really need to spike up my movie watch counter this weekend . If any of you stays around Palam Vihar and needs company over a movie , I am totally in , though don’t think I am running some shady “frandship club” with those heart shaped ads in hindi newspapers. By the way , watched "What’s your Rashee” today , and even though the end is a bit “Hain??” types , the movie did seem pretty delightful and 'feel good' to me . Moral of the story - Harman Baweja is not that bad an actor . I mean , he is a bit wooden , but not exactly teak . Second moral of the story - Just because I noticed Harman does not mean I am not straight !
And before I go back and cook some maggi for me ( Oh yes , it’s 11.48 in the night and I am really hungry , courtesy the fact that mommy offered me “kal ke raajma and parso ke chawal” for dinner) , please see the stuff posted below , which is about a Brand Management course for Designers being offered by ‘Brands of Desire’ , a Strategic Brand Consultancy and Design Company based out of New Delhi . I can vouch for it that if you are a student of design or a working designer , the course can help you learn some pretty useful things about further upgrading your skill sets . Mail email@example.com to know more.
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