The Happiest Solitary Day

Everyday you wake up towards something, not this day. There are many who warn against the plights of solitude, but only a stretched mind within the bounds of vision and reality can enjoy the relief of paralyzing knots. It starts like no other, but requires an initial push outside the door and a chaste stroll towards your way. It starts with going beyond to see a place you haven’t seen before or like to see again. Passing through turns and streets that are too unknown that they look strikingly familiar on the way. From feeling the exteriors of high standing primitive towers, surrounded by guests and visitors, to dropping within the hallow empty shells of even emptier luxurious graves, you learn all through the way. You act like you should, but like never did before, and walk into pinch filled hearty conversations with ones you’ll never know. You now see those that would otherwise never lay before your eyes.You see a bored lover waiting for the other, the eager journeys of young souls that are thwarted by their brothers and sisters, or the fertile curves of cloudy women who see as no other. You walk through the heat and past, joyous of the rebellious company of the one and the other. You react to the ending rainfall with an unyielding barefoot walk through gullible streets that are bewildered by your lonely choices. You end your hunger with unlikely corners and end your tire with a choice of nap of where you may. And in between somewhere, you stop and ponder as to where you lay, not to where you stand.


The Grey Life (2006)

My 1st piece of writing ever, excuse the bad grammar.

It was a bitter and chilly winter day. I was on my way back home from the school. I 

took the same bus that I took every other school day and expected the same boring 

ride home that in time took only twenty to thirty minutes but felt like an decade. I took 

the same old window seat as I like glancing out the window on the way home as it was 

the only means of entertainment available. But the ride ended up becoming one of the

 most eye openings and inspiring experiences of my short life. On the way home, the bus

 stopped at a traffic signal and there I noticed him while glancing endlessly out the

window. He was an old man carrying a rectangular box which appeared to be twice his

 size. I guessed he was in his eighties. He appeared as a tall, wrinkly and somewhat pale 

looking individual. He was barley able to carry that enormous box but managed quite 

well compared to any other individual of his age whom I knew. Seeing the old man I felt 

helpless and also angry as to how nobody around him offered to assist him. I admired the 

old man’s spirit as anybody else in his place would have waited for someone to 

help him or her. Finally, he found a spot to rest under an old oak tree which stood just beside 

the highway. The tree just like the old man survived in spite of all odds in a densely

 populated and demanding area. The old man pulled out a small rug from his box and laid

 it out on the rough and bumpy floor and sat on it. He appeared to be mumbling to 

himself, maybe because he did not have any family or friends to share his feelings with. He 

started placing objects out of his rectangular box and on to the rug. They were mainly cigarette 

packs and tobacco packets. He had opened his own little stall that may have been his 

only source of income and livelihood. Then I noticed the various religious posters and 

stickers that were stuck on the lid of the rectangular box ,which he had now positioned

 vertically as a barrier to prevent someone from looking into it as he was hiding

 something. They indicated that he had still not lost his faith and must have believed that it

 was god who would have been testing him and would reward him later. Suddenly the 

earth started to tremble and the old man stated to move away from me. But then I realized

 that it was the bus which began to move again as the traffic light turned green. I became

 so glued in observing every little aspect and movement of the old man that I lost track of

 the surroundings around me. However, I still kept watching him as he disappeared in the

distance, not knowing that how he had inspired an individual to never lose hope and faith

 during the journey of life.

We Humans are Societal Beings & That’s Why Happiness is Cocaine

We strive to make others believe, what we believe. Make others hope, for what we hope. Make others yearn, for what we yearn. We wish for all others to be as ourselves.

We humans are societal beings. Our inability to remain in solitude and face our individual selves is an exemplar to the perception of our own existential sterility. There is only so much of ourselves that we can withstand in so far as not to lose the faint hope of a rising unseen self to be built in the passing time. We build ourselves each day and break to dawn a new after the sagging night. It is what truly marks us human, unlike the others who suffer the torture of a pre-destined being. But human beings, unlike all other creatures who harbor their givens, succumb to endorse the eventual flaws that lie in our most celestial conventions.

Rather than perpetuating the unyielding cycle of self-imagination we sought to maintain a set image from among the infinite, hoping foolishly to retain the euphoria we attain from that set image of our- selves.We further hope to magnify its appeal by transcending it beyond from oneself to the entire world of others. We desire to make not endless imaginative selves, but all others as a mirror of the one self we think we most sought to gain from. We have a constant necessity to add to our being and propel a new being, in order to maintain the infinite cycle that sustains our being.We in the hope of constant euphoria break the wheel that has churned since the beginning of our time to maintain this solitary and most tangible desire. We kill ourselves to attain what we already had and now lost. Never hope for others to be as you because there is no one you can’t withstand more than yourself. We, like time, are not meant to stop and ponder.

Too long have humans neglected to admit that this sole guidance to our existence, of which we as individuals are proud of, called “reason” is merely the reaction of a junky who is stuck in eternal servitude to the euphoria of a fix we call “happiness.” For all the corners of the universe, where we tore up the carpet and snuck beneath a look, it has been nothing but the advocation that there might be some fix for happiness hiding within. The most pure basic deduction that a human makes is not based on the presence of God, probability of authentic science or some hyper-complex relation with oneself. It is the simple knowing of whether a thing/entity/object/ conscious will be something that would directly/in-directly/presently/in the future makes us happy.

Science, art, community or theories of afterlife are all based on this pure knowing of what we humans need or want. Without the quotient of happiness, there is no reason. Without happiness there is no answer to anything. With it, at least we fool ourselves that we have one, even though one is not needed. Happiness is a deceptive feeling. It is never constant, always asking for more. It’s greedy in its demands, selective in occurrences, never lasting and always leaves a hard colonizing rage behind for something more. The moment you have it, you don’t want to let go. It’s a dictator that is both a prophet and a capitalist. More is never more. It makes even the most pointless existences and matches up to the tremendous expansions of human dualities – our minds, our actions and our rate of success. You can never know if you truly need it because by the time you realize there is something such, it has already taken over you. You can’t locate its birth or judge it objectively from within your experiences. It’s just like everything else – God, materials, meaning, etc. Happy is what I am told we are meant to be, why? Isn’t there something else? What about content? Content is to be worked for, happiness is just there. Happiness has always been there.

An Epilogue: The End for Us All is the Same – Liberation of Man

We all are here for the same end we seek to achieve. A liberation of ourselves, a being that is only you and nothing else. We all are fighting towards this end in one end or another. Some fight to be themselves by breaking the barriers of laws/oppression, others through overcoming the limits of our natural talent and many others in countless individual forms. But we all being men, are joined and stacked together in a single file. We all fight for different things, but all we fight for is together the sum of what a being or a self would be. A being that is itself an act, a separate universe. A universe of being distinct from the rehashing mess of nature and creature we currently reside within. We all may walk alone, but we move together. Mankind fights together, even when against, because when everything is nothing there remains none that goes untested. We all fight to get rid of the void, even though it is witnessed in an individual form with each set of eyes. No single man can win or attain the end, but collectively we all can fight and overcome. We can overcome a lot, but the end can never be distributed or shared. We live the curse of fighting together against each other to collectively attain an end that is not singular. It is only when everything is diminished that we stand upon the dust of what we can rebuild with. We can only finish. We can only finish everything, may be, but never stand at the end. This is the safe we can crack, but never reach for the riches within. Yet, we live. We live because we think we can, in spite of knowing the truth. men have sacrificed since times on. It is the ultimate end for an end, and one cannot say he has done everything to end everything unless he has ended himself in some form of individually deemed sufficient sacrifice or not. There is no life, apart from sacrifice for an end. We don’t attain rest from the void, but the last moment of our time where we can say “I have done everything’ as one dies. The moment where everything we do for everything, both stand by and meet as it all goes back to nothing. A nothing where we have lost all our work, but leave behind fragments that recycles the system by inspiring new wheels that go nowhere to earn nothing in order to be something new and particularly individual.

Nothing is the absence of the want of anything – hunger, lust, meaning, etc. We eat to remove hunger, have sex to rid us of lust or die to rid sight of meaning. Sacrifice is an end for in order to be nothing.  We all are fighting towards it, everyday. With each fight we remove something, and at death we remove everything/ And for a moment we are nothing as everything we remove is side by side with everything for nothing, and then nothing comes and everything dies. Along with everything, our will to be something other than everything.

I cannot tell this to true or false as even if it was true or false, I would be doing the same in each case – removing everything. Two identical numbers cannot be differentiated, only reduced to the minimum, which being zero – sum of nothing. Both truths, true or false, carry nothing because it is something we wish to create, is what is the answer. We can never go beyond zero, hence, nothing can be proved or denied, but everything can be lived.

Where are your friends tonight?

Teen Murti Bhawan
 Contemptuous minds will forever remember him as the pompous aristocrat who begrudgingly light the chaste beauty of an imperialist queen, and none will see the untiring smirk of a zealous man, who nearly conquered everything with his extinguished cane.

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