Grey

Yet again I am in a train. I cannot remember the number of times I have packed my bags and ‘checked-out’ in the past 3 months. This kind of life is exciting, but also tedious. I hate lugging bags around. If only technology could make compression of matter possible. Or, maybe I could learn to travel light.

It has been long since I blogged. And there are infinite reasons. One could be that I don’t have enough to say. Could be, but isn’t. The real reason is that I have just too much to say.

This train chugs from Amdavad towards Mumbai. Mood - Grey. Skies - Black. On a tangent, have to get used to police dogs on platforms and in the trains. People milling around like normal, but there are these dogs to remind you that the pendulum swings far east.

Just finished reading that book - IIM to Gangjdundwara. Can’t believe it actually happened. The Epilogue is one of the most moving ones I have read in recent times. Do we ever really value experiences enough, until it is certain they are never to happen to us again?

I wish to do so much with my life. And yet in the quest for bigger things, we miss out on all the little things we could do to make a far-reaching impact on maybe - one person’s life. On the other side of this talk, lies the cynicism - why should all of us be striving to make a difference? It’s all just beauty-pageant-mumbo-jumbo anyway. Is there really a higher purpose to our existence, or are we here, as one of my dearest friends used to say - just to procreate?

That dearest friend is no more. In body, he is - somewhere. In spirit, he left me long ago. Or maybe I left him.

I want to freeze every memory in my head. I want to be able to summon them at will and relive them at leisure. I don’t ever want to go away, to lose touch, to not speak everyday with the people I do speak everyday with at this point in my life. I want every phase of my life to continue forever. Yet, I want several phases happening together. I want to be able to switch at will. Like Alt + Tab.

Is there a little of the tragic hero in all of us? Is there a little bit more in some than in others? Are all men born equal? Are some more equal than others? Is it competence against compassion? Is competence absolute? Is compassion ultimate?

The mood remains grey. The grey of a rainy day.