I was watching a movie last night about a man who begins to question the rationale behind every choice he makes. He then makes a pledge to himself that from the day onward, he would only believe in things that he would see, hear, touch and feel. The move forces him to lose his job, feud with his family, wage a battle for logical coexistence and ultimately find wings to fly, quite literally. It made for an interesting view. What stood out in the entire sequence of events was how every character assumed or interpreted the protagonist’s inner awakening to arrive at their own conclusions.

It happens sometimes that we use benchmarks for our own existence; I did. For a long period, growing up, for the first twenty-one years, until he was alive, my father was my goal post, my target. Then, a friend became an inspiration with his profound knowledge of the workings of the universe. I was happy go lucky until universe drew me into its web when it sent love wrapped in a basket. Thus began a journey where I combined the knowledge I had gained from my inspirations and began to add my own interpretations to build a concoction of life; something personal; something unique that worked for me; and just when I thought I understood it, everything went haywire, not once or twice but many times. Inability to understand my failings, in love, career or ambition, clouded my thoughts. Even though there were periods where I could see the events clearly, most events were lost in translation; like every event had to be read multiple times to see coherence and even then, I would not be sure I read them correctly. That was an excruciating but a crucial phase of my life.

Going through a crisis can break you; it can teach you things about your precipice from where recovery involves a herculean climb and that may take years of nerves and sinew. Climbing the mountain once you have fallen requires goals, aspirations and most importantly, something to look forward to; hope mostly. Finding hope is such circumstances is not easy especially if you are sensitive and an over thinker because every thread appears as hope and you fail to distinguish the real from the imaginary. You begin to hear people, find meanings in words spoken and unspoken. Words can be fragrant pearls or poisonous beads depending on how you read them. I took my own sweet time to distinguish between the two and I used all the help I could get to understand the difference.

People, how difficult they are to find. Those who understand my emotional quotient, my motivations, my words and its meanings and finally my conversations. At the end of the day, if I can make one of my life’s motivation to be able to find people who can differentiate between my sensible and crazy, but then dance with me to both, then I would reach a safe place. A word or two lost in translations every now and then would not matter much with such people because they would hold my arm when I would fall and guide me to the intended meaning. If I then address my instincts, one by one, knowing who I am, who people are and that I cannot miss the moment, I become silent and hear people speak so they know that my reply is my best effort to be what I want to be before them; when I meet their eyes. The feeling is equivalent to that of being an invigilator who actually likes to be intimidated.  

As I think more along the lines of yesterday’s protagonist in the movie, open-ended stories are a good thing since they are open to interpretations. After all, what is life without a few imaginations, a few elucidations and a few consequences? If coffee can taste as good after dinner as it tastes without the meal, do we really mind? We don’t, right. Moreover, that’s the crux of my life. I am passing through a galaxy and scientists have called it the Milky Way. I realise that the universe has plans for me and I am beginning to understand its translations. Slowly but surely.