The Human Condition

You know, I read about Modernism and Post-Modernism modes of existence. I read Beckett, I read Lawerence, I read Marquez. And because I've read all this and known what theose authors wanted to express, I analyzed how we live today (Yeah, that's what you'll do if you take up English Honours too).

I figured that we've moved away from the Post Modern way of existence. There is no celebration of our fractured identity today. We are not happy about being broken. We, as pieces, have been scattered forever. The realization struck with Modernism. People wanted to go back to thinking that they were whole, though. They did not know how to live like an unassembled jigsaw puzzle. Post Modernists, on the other hand, celebrated this kind of existence, where we are each other- different in shape, maybe, but still the same. And that was a relief. Being same. Being like everyone else.

In these times of Post- Post Modernism, I look around me and I feel that the attitude to our existence has changed drastically. We've resigned ourselves to being broken, unassembled, scattered. But it's not a very passive acceptance. When I say resignation, a certain kind of cynicism accompanies this. We recognize that we were never whole to begin with and hope is so lacking in us now that it's turned us into first class cynics.

There is lesser belief in love, God, hope. We've sort of just given up; rolled over and surrendered ourselves to the lack of goodness, wholeness in the world. Everything is tainted by dissatisfaction and sneers, as if we can see right through everything and recognize that everything we're surrounded by is as hollow as us. There is no respite from such existence- not in nature, not in God, not in anything. If there's anything that is actually believed in, it is the vices in everything.

Self confessional style of writing emerges from this way of existence (which is not the same as living anymore. We are not alive. We don't live). With pop cultural imagery and metaphors and and brutally honest statements, expression of lack becomes a dagger to our hearts and souls. It pinches our consciousness and forces us to realize the truth of life- everything is pointless. 

And I'm the part of this Post- Post Modernist human condition and I don't believe in goodness and God. But somewhere, I wish I did.

Of Murakami and Love

So. It’s Valentine’s Day.

Today, I walked about 7 km today in total. Murakami talks about running in one of his work whose name I forgot. I even forgot what he says about running. I was trying to think up of a link between his runs and my walks but because I had abandoned the book after 50 pages, I must not have agreed with what he had to say about running.

The first time I actually recognized my desire to walk was right after when I came back from Getaway Camp in Sattal. After doing intense physical activities like playing dodgeball for what seemed like a couple of hours and trekking everyday for three days, I come back to Delhi and find that I am the least physically active person because I couldn’t find anything to do here. By the evening of my first day back here, I grew so restless that I knew I had to do something. So I went on a leisurely 5 km walk.

During that 5 km walk, I contemplated this sudden urge to do something. It might have been a change in biological clock, but my body adapts to change in schedules very quickly. Also, I have been living in this monstrous city for longer than I had been in Sattal. It should’ve been like falling back to my daily routine.

The answer was so bloody simple that I couldn’t believe it. Walking for me is cathartic. It purges all the mental stress I have, thanks to living in a city. The physical activity distracts me from my mental activities and I can sleep so much better at night.

I think everyone has something or the other that gives them such peace. And I think all of us require peace, especially because of the world we live in.

Oh, and about that Valentine’s Day comment? This is another year that went by when I was single, so I’m not going to say anything  ._.

Dilemma

My fascination with a lot of things is to do with what I don't know about them. I make this statement in the context of my recent visit to this place called Sattal. 

Sattal left me with a feeling that I should've realized something, but I was leaving the place when I recognized that I have failed to realize that thing. I have no idea about the nature of what I should've realized but I know that there is something rankling in my brain, waiting for the right slot to fit into. However, there is no imposition upon me to find that slot for the rankling piece. I just feel like I was this close to knowing something, and before I could, I had to leave.

This mystified something is calling me back to that place. I've heard people say that the mountains call to them. One of my friends says that what I feel isn't unusual. Mountains do that to you. You feel like you will find something about yourself and the world. 

I have no idea about how true it is and if there are answers to my in-articulated questions. Nature is so much bigger than us. 

We are mere humans. How can we expect to unravel all the secrets of nature that might culminate into answers to our mute question? Is my coming back to Sattal to look for answers a fruitless exercise?

Even if I don't find answers to my questions there, I'd still like to go back. You can't marvel over the enormosity of nature in the cities, where the concrete jungles do nothing but suffocate you. You can't realize how small you actually are because in the cities, you've built everything according to your size.

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My fascination with a lot of things has to do with what I do know about them. For instance, I feel that sunsets are better in the cities than in the mountains. There is nothing mystical about the sunset for me. Sunsets signify the end of a day without the certainty of the other. And this uncertainty can exist only in the cities, because they are representative of the human condition of mortality.

 I never felt the sunset in Sattal. Every evening brought with itself the promise of a new day. 

I'd like to go back again for a lot of reasons. But the main reason why I'd want to go back to Sattal is because it promises me something that I do not have here- anonymity, and by extension, immortality.

PS- This picture is clicked by me.