A quest – a search. For oneself – for meaning and purpose…
I find a paradox in me. Things that excited me do not excite me any more. Sometimes I ask myself a question, “Am I queer? Am I different from others?” Then other times there is this refrain within, “Why can’t I be like the way others are.” “Why do I have to think so much?” But I still know that it is part of me.
What is the purpose of my existence? At intuitive level, I know it is about "healing."
There are two planes I live in. And at times I judge myself as an imposter in both. For I don’t live both of them together; nor do I live them…. There is one within me that gets happy with the little things. For e.g., the other day we had gone to Bombay Gym for lunch – hosted courtesy my boss; today it was another place. It does feel good being there – the gentry, the works, the civilization etc. Yet, the moment, I step out, the question comes to haunt me, “for what?” There is one aspect of me that takes joy in buying a neat little cuff link, in picking up some good stuff, in buying and savouring a good Scotch, in just being “suave”. And then there is this other, that just has utter disregard for all this – this is so fake and fleeting.
It is this other that really questions all the little pleasures of life. I was sharing with a colleague of mine and she got concerned. The question that haunts me is, “for what?” The funny part is that in my mental scheme of things, either there has to be a negative push from the current situation or a positive pull from a desired future for action to happen. Yet, I find that I have neither circumstance in my life currently. I work with pleasure and I rest with pleasure. Paradoxically, even though I am happy, I do not find contentment.
My well wishers tell me that I should not think so much. But is it not “normal” to think of existential questions? After all, what is this life if not lived purposefully?
My boss tells me that it is all related to monotony and that I am trying to find a purpose and meaning in “work”; while real purpose and meaning lies elsewhere. I buy that thesis – but where do I get that purpose? How do I effect it? – for I know my purpose...
Is it that we give meanings in life? And live that meaning? Like a dear friend told me, “we all live the meaning we give to life – we do not live life.” How true – I ascribe meanings to all the things of life – the colour of the hat, the manner of speech, the socio-educational-economic background, the shoes worn. All are but meanings.
I remember JK who wrote somewhere that between someone in quest for inner peace and another in quest for hedonistic pleasure, there is no difference at a fundamental level. Both of them are still seeking; and real contentment comes not from seeking but from a deep understanding. From a deep understanding of what is and what should be.
Is it simply another phase of life? Or is it a desire to understand? I don’t know. I used to feel like Siddhartha earlier – in quest. But now while I am like Siddhartha, I do not feel like him.
I feel like myself. And “In Quest.”
Friday, July 31, 2009
Muse | On Relationships | 30th Jul. '09
In the train - on way back home. Met my brother after years. Don't like calling him my cousin - more like a brother. But that is odd. For it is not that I've been too closely in touch with him all this while in life. Still the bond remains.
Perhaps it is this shared common bond that makes a difference. Youngest of two sisters. Always protected and provided for. Physically too - we resemble a lot - both of us are have a slender built. And an intellectual (you may call it bookish) bent.
But that is not the point. The point is about relationships. What defines a relationship? Is it continuity of contact? Is it kinship? Is it shared meaning and purpose? Is it simply a bond?
Memories go back to childhood when we both spent a summer together after our sacred thread ceremony.
Then we grew up - each in different cities and on a different course in life.
A couple of years ago, he and I were in Bombay - but we hardly ever met. Our non meeting was punctuated by occasional visit of elders and then we would bump into each other. And this time he is back for a while after 2 yrs. in the U.S. And we did met - a while ago i.e.,. He married before leaving offshore - so it was the three of us.
It was as if life is still. An aspect of growing up that I missed. Maybe it would have been lovely to have spent more time together while growing up. Or maybe kept in regular touch thereafter. Does it really matter? I don't know. Yet, I know I like him and he likes me. And when we met, it was like meeting someone my own.
So what then defines a relationship? I am no longer any close to an answer than I was when I'd started off.
Perhaps it is this shared common bond that makes a difference. Youngest of two sisters. Always protected and provided for. Physically too - we resemble a lot - both of us are have a slender built. And an intellectual (you may call it bookish) bent.
But that is not the point. The point is about relationships. What defines a relationship? Is it continuity of contact? Is it kinship? Is it shared meaning and purpose? Is it simply a bond?
Memories go back to childhood when we both spent a summer together after our sacred thread ceremony.
Then we grew up - each in different cities and on a different course in life.
A couple of years ago, he and I were in Bombay - but we hardly ever met. Our non meeting was punctuated by occasional visit of elders and then we would bump into each other. And this time he is back for a while after 2 yrs. in the U.S. And we did met - a while ago i.e.,. He married before leaving offshore - so it was the three of us.
It was as if life is still. An aspect of growing up that I missed. Maybe it would have been lovely to have spent more time together while growing up. Or maybe kept in regular touch thereafter. Does it really matter? I don't know. Yet, I know I like him and he likes me. And when we met, it was like meeting someone my own.
So what then defines a relationship? I am no longer any close to an answer than I was when I'd started off.
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