December 29, 2002

Aberration

Yes, I know this blog has come to a virtual stand-still with the gaps between each successive posts lengthening now to unpardonable lenghts of time and it is not a case of writer's block as you must have guessed by now. Hold your horses, let the man have his say before we lynch him. In a lot of ways this blog is reflective of the state of my mind and yes, I know I have been credited with the accolade of the most compulsively depressive blog and that is not without reason. Just a glance through the posts can make even me slightly bothered. But that is a different issue altogether.

Where were we? Yes, the lack of life on the blog. Like I said it is reflective of lots of things and mainly of the fact that at some point or the other I have stopped believing in anything and the blog is just one teeny weeny part in it. It is not your fancy "Oh I do not give a damn" attitude and it is not the fashionably cynical attitude either. Why? Because I do not want things to be this way but it cannot be helped. Somewhere along the way things stopped mattering. It means a lot, but it just stops mattering somewhere and life attains its own sordid momentum and you are nothing but a prisoner to it.

So everything is just reduced to numerical analyses of little numbers neatly arranged in tables of little moments of joy, anger, sadness, disgust and so on. They are shoddily kept books of profit and loss that does not make any difference anywhere. It is just an empirical study of how many days you lived without taking a break or how many years since you last had a crisis and how many days more to go before the next one strikes. In the end it is just a mind game, played between two sides of you. One predicts the doom way ahead, the other fights it. The strange taste of bittersweet victory where there is nothing to gain. It is just a joke. Just an emotionally intensive way of killing time before time decides to kill you someday.

The game actually is interesting because you actually know the end from the start. So why play at all? It is a simple logic. You have to push the limits, play it at the highest levels, to pledge loyalty to the only dependable thing in the whole scheme of things -- the unfairness in it all and embarrass it till the end when the last breath will have to be torn away from you. To leave with a smile that says "I lost on my own terms". Or in an example I am fond of quoting, when you know you are going to smash up on the highway better do that in a SLK Merc than in a puny autorickshaw.

Coming back to the blog, like I have told a few of the people who read it, my heart simply is not in it anymore. There is this great urge to disown this too and say it does not matter anymore. I'd so love it to be otherwise, but I cannot really say that is an out and out lie, it is not a hundred percent. But you have seen it before, you are just a spectator in this funny game where you laugh and cry at the same time.

In the background the music is playing, Golden Heart by Mark Knopfler, it paints pictures that I so love, one that I would to see happen, one that I wish would happen for more than miniscule five minutes of crisis that would divert winds calm and beautiful down this arid land before it blows itself over. So here I lay in wait, with words that have often been repeated to various faces through many a different times. I believe them for you like the surety with which I believe in the endgame and like how these words are lost somewhere in the numerous bits and bytes shifted through the wires unseen, I too have lost myself and there is no coming back.