May 26, 2005


If only the number of interesting people were much greater on this earth, life would have been so much less boring. I could have blindly followed a revolutionary, fallen head-over-heels in love, toiled towards harvesting a good-for-nothing crop in the middle of some arid land or have even done something useful with my life. As it stands now, there is terrible sense of deja vu (even after discounting the actual phenomenon that I tend to experience regularly) in everything. Cities are stops in a journey with no end in sight, people are things you find and forget, career is just another grand excuse among the so many others, sex is something you have with someone and days are nothing but notches on driftwood with names and numbers attached to it. Boredom is my only best friend.

The tragedy, I feel, is that at the core everyone and everything is shallow. I am, with the rest of the populace, one thing or the other either because of some childhood trauma, sheer vanity or some totally nonsensical dream. Scale it up and you can see even entire revolutions being built on top of this shallow base. To make matters worse, people are slowly being reconstructed into more fluid forms. We are being broken down into a base material that can be readily molded into a given set of things -- well-to-do, traditional, eccentric, loser, obedient and so on. I don't even remember when was the last time, after discounting the close friends, that I was genuinely surprised by someone. Where have all the interesting strangers gone?