Year-ender

I don’t think I have any reasons to write a year-end post. I don’t have any lists of books or movies. I don’t have any learning to share. I don’t have any important events to talk about. There’s really nothing to fill up a year-end post.

Yet, I think I owe a last post for the year that was, to sum up, indeed a happy year. So what if I don’t have any achievements to show off, the joy and contentment I found this year, more than compensates that.

I had a laidback and pleasant year. Just the way I would have liked it to be.

Have a happy time ahead.

Happy 2008!

Another realization

One of the most romantic things to possess is a secret pain. We somehow like this idea that, unknown to the world, we secretly carry a pain deep within us. There’s something utterly romantic about suffering alone. We like to believe that there’s more to us than meets the eye, that our pains make us special, that there’s something heroic about our efforts to endure our pains secretly. If we have a secret pain, we supposedly acquire more depth. And who would not like to be described as a person of some depth, after all?

To possess a secret pain is also helpful otherwise. There are ample evidences that, fuelled by their secret pains, people have written books and poems, created immortal sculptures and paintings, went on voyages around the world, made amazing discoveries, reshaped history, and became famous in general. Every artist worth his/her salt needs a secret pain as a muse, it seems. The more the magnitude of your pain, the more is your chance of doing something prolific. Plain happiness has never really created anything noteworthy, isn’t it?

Of late, I have realized with some regret that I don’t really have a secret pain in my life. Leave alone happiness, can't I even have a secret pain? What a pitiful life I live, indeed!

Realization

It is a painful moment when we realize that probably we don't have the talent to do what we really want to do. (I mean, of course we can always dabble into something; but I'm talking about the real talent here.) It is also a very lonely moment and nothing in the world seems to ameliorate the excruciating pain that comes with this realization. We struggle between hope and despair, we struggle with all our might to come to terms with it, but nothing seems to fill in the enormous emotional void.

Faced with such a moment of crisis, not everybody can accept the cruel fact with a sane head. Indeed, some even try to find an escape with guns, drugs, or alcohol. (Remember the motto "it's better to burn out, than to fade away"!) But, thankfully, these people are few in number; and most of us, with time, quietly accept the fact without much fuss. "Let's not take our life and work so seriously after all," we seem to remind ourselves and move ahead. Of course, at some weak moments, we lament at not being born a genius, but we do overcome such moments soon enough.

The age-old Indian philosophy says that we only have the right to do our work, and not on the outcome of it; so work your part with detachment and don't desire for a result. Maybe, it's not a very practical thought. Or maybe it is. I really don't know. As for me, I'll occasionally keep writing a few stray posts, even though I've already realized the truth. After all, a race is never a race without those who 'also ran'.

I think I'm getting too wise for my age! Or maybe I'm plain lazy. Who knows!

Walking home

• The old woman sits on the pavement, in an obscure corner, with two baskets of vegetables. She's chosen the most unlikely place to sell vegetables, it seems. I wonder who buys vegetables from her. I've never seen anyone buying.

• In the chic coffee shop, a bunch of giggly young girls are enjoying the evening over cups of coffee. Their faces are flushed with laughter and their eyes are brimming with happiness.

• The new swanky mall that has recently come up, is a buzzing place. As I walk by, I remember that when I came here last year, it was still an empty space.

• Two migrant laborers, probably from a nearby construction site, are walking home with their daily provisions. It's the end of their day and they seem relieved. They chatter animatedly in their native dialect and walk past me.

• As I turn left and enter the building, I see an old lady sitting quietly on the watchman's chair. Which is very odd, because I have previously seen the watchman, and he doesn't remotely look like an old lady. Probably this old lady came down for a walk and feeling tired sat down on the chair, I assume. I know it's an uninteresting assumption, but the most likely.
  

Each evening, I walk the same path to reach home.

And each evening, I find it to be different.

Ignorance

I just had to sign a cheque. When I finished signing, my colleague suggested, "Cross the cheque."

Without knowing what exactly I had to do, I put a cross mark on the cheque. I mean, a put a cross mark (×).

He almost fell down from his chair, laughing.

“To cross means, you have to mention Account Payee on the cheque, for safety reasons,” he informed me, with good humor.

I must say, there are so many things you learn in a day.

There is no limit to ignorance, really.

The last few days

• I decided to devote some more time and effort to improve my culinary skills, which, I must admit, is very preliminary at this moment. As a result of this unusual spurt of enthusiasm, I found myself experimenting in the kitchen each day after I got home from work. And the weekends were, of course, the ideal time to push the limits and try out something totally untried. While some results of these experiments were moderately palatable, some others were absolutely disastrous. But at the end, to paraphrase Edison, "I have not failed. I've just found several combinations that won't work."

• I found a dirt road the other morning, near the hillocks behind my building, that goes all the way to the highway. It was more of a trail than a road -- dusty, deserted, and mostly unused. The air was cool that morning and I just walked without caring to reach anywhere. Sometimes, it feels good to walk on a road without knowing where it might take me to.

• I took part in the city marathon. The first ever marathon of my life. (well, it's true that I just ran the first few kilometers. But the fact remains that I ran.)

• I realized, to my amazement, that one year has passed by since I landed in this city. And so far, it's been so good.