Humbling Uncertainties

I was going through some of the astronomy news and now I wish I should not have seen it.

In the past few months, or to be very specific, with the start of the new year, news of space rocks passing by the earth at very close quarters, and NASA and the big guys thanking Physics and God respectively for the rocks to not have come too close, have increased in frequency. For all I know, I must have been less aware of such news earlier and such incidences used to happen even before this. But even that chain of thought doesn’t make me feel very blessed.

If you think about it, all these space rocks are out there in the open, like wild unchained bulls, following nothing but the laws of physics, untamed by any human prayers and inconsiderate of the worth of what it may collide with. For all we know, there already might be many asteroids in their path, nonchalantly speeding towards unfortunate intersections of their trajectory and our planet’s orbit. Its not even that you can point and blame at someone for this, and even if you could, the damage that a single collision would make could be so huge that there would be no one left alive to point fingers.

Entire humanity wiped out, hopes and dreams flushed down to void and only tales of the afterlife comforting people at their very last second.

I read in one of the news that even NASA could not predict the coming of one of such rocks, so I wont be surprised if we all will be given just a last minute notice of the eventual doom one day. No warning, no evacuations, no preparations for the war, no Armageddon, just one last media coverage of people ready for their end, tears in their eyes, and hands holding their dearest.  I hope that at least then, all humanity will stand united and say each other farewell with no discriminations.

I know we are working towards machines that can deviate the path of such rocks, better ways of predicting such trajectories and a lot more, and as I write this there probably are a huge number of people working just towards it but still the thought of this gap of technology that overlap us right now scares me through my spines.

We think so highly of ourselves. Sharpest of the brains, explorers of the outer space, masters of using our resources, species with dreams and aims and a drive towards a better life, our zeal for adventure, our passion for love, the race towards greatness, that urge to leave a mark – all but just a speck, a tiny unnoticed speck on the vastness of chaos that surrounds us and doesn’t even consider us an entity worth to be threatened. We with all these self-appraised qualities might one day be dusted off like that one tiny imperceptible dot of dust particle, part of the dust that covers your coat’s shoulders and dusted off without a second thought, negligible enough to even have the tiniest of the roles in the giant play of the cosmos.

We still cannot cease to live, to dream and to form memories we would like to cherish and take to our grave. But with this reluctant but enlightening awareness of what goes on around us, far above and transcended by the small inequities and problems we face among us, all of a sudden, the uncertainty of life has reached new levels, and with it I find myself more humbled.
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A father-Son Moment

I don’t ALWAYS work when I have visitors in my house and my parents know that; but they also know that I still prefer to keep my laptop flap open and pretend to be working. Nothing beats that trick to escape from all the cheesy and boring  conversations that they have.
I peculiarly hate it when I hear knocks on my door when I am discussing something with my parents, and so today my neighbor was not particularly welcomed by me when  she chose to knock on our doors, just when I was discussing on “How one can become a Pope?” with my parents.

My dad sat on the chair opposite to me while I kept working on my laptop as my neighbor and my mom started talking about their children and how they have grown to be complete ungrateful nut-bags. It was as if I was completely invisible there.
My mom later even took the liberty to tell how I never used to have much fun with dad and it still is that way, and how we only talk when it is something really serious like … religion, generation gap and that irritating squeaky noise of my bedroom door. It was as if even my dad was invisible.

My mom later went on to explain how once, in my childhood, my dad carried me in his arms and was descending down the stairs and how some random stupid had just cleaned the stair case but casually chose to let the soapy water remain on the stairs. My dad slipped on the top most stair and came crashing and slipping down along the staircase, which at least had 8-10 stairs. Her voice grew more excited as she went to to explain how dad kept his hold on me tight and did not let me go till he ensured his unfortunate style of descend has stopped. Only when he was completely down did he hand me over to a lady at the side and stood up to feel how damaged his body ended up to be. Everyone praised dad for protecting me like that and those praises still echo in our house whenever a new guest comes and the topics of agenda includes the favorite – “My ungrateful children and their all-beautiful childhood”.

As she was done with this story, my dad was still seated on the chair opposite to me, with no motion, his body completely indifferent to what he heard. But his head then gave away as it turned around and looked at me. I was watching all that from the corner of my eye but I did not know if I should look up to him and smile or give him a high five and share a joint. We don’t do all those sort of father-son things. I stayed put, as after a few seconds he resumed looking to his right, him too pretending to be deep in thought and not listening to my mom’s and the neighbors’ discussions which by now had shifted to  other children and their childhood.

I smiled as I continued to type and look at my laptop screen. I smiled as to how he was also ignoring them and how it might be a genetic thing, but more than that I smiled because I was grateful. He knows I am grateful, or at least I hope he does. I was also grateful to my mom’s nature of repeating one story over and over again without ever getting bored of it.

Him looking at me, my subtle smile;  though it was barely even a minute long but those seconds formed one good Father-Son moment for me…

by your terms

Is this my purpose in life? My ultimate goal?
To be just a shoulder for people who need support, to wipe tears of people, to be the buffer zone – that zone of everyone’s life where they need someone just so that they can grab his arm and pull themselves off their despair and then once they are out, walk away, oblivious to the fact that the person wielding that arm may have had expectations of his own.

My parents taught me about Rama – the perfect human, Krishna – the intelligent manipulator and many such characters but none of those taught me the things that you laid as seeds in my mind, concepts that grew as principles that I consider now as moral supremity.
No one taught me to live like a winged man. Dropping by only when somebody needs you, solving their problem or just being there for them and flying away with no expectations left over in the mind, no emotions retained, inert, aloof. I thought of wings as just a symbol for freedom, this other interpretation must be your seeds then.

Did you even know that being like that wont be so easy. That it may lead to me being a person who one day cannot develop any new emotions, and will be left like a hollow body with no feelings, but just with a layer of skin and a mind that knows how to mould that skin and fake emotions. Or was even this in your grand master plan. To make me, a person who first fell in love when he was 10 years old, into a person bereft of anything that can make me a normal human with feelings and the tendency to fall into meaningless complications just because it feels good.

Remember my first love? How would you not remember that? Oh the fun you must have had just to see me helping, the person I loved for 5 years, to establish her broken relation with her ex-boyfriend who did not even love her back. And I did that for one year – One whole year – after which you made her leave her home and go to a place where I cant easily reach.
Remember all those short bursts of relations I had. Each, a girl with a problem she needed to run away from. How I wonder I only found such people and then each such meeting followed by her being with only me, away from everyone else, and just when I thought she is the one, she feels good and is ready to move on; and she does, from me.

The friend I loved dearest to me, taken away by you. The sister for whom I have let myself be hurt a number of times, snatched away from me. People say it is difficult to understand your ways; I have lived to learn that it can even be difficult to live by those ways.
But enough it is, enough of all the upstream swim that I tried. I dont know if I am grateful for this, but now I am what you wanted me to be.

The man, with wings to fly away from emotions of any kind. I am not certain of how much I believe in your existence, but I want you to be real; for I cannot tag everything as unfortunate co-incidences. I dont want my finger pointing to void. I may not yet know what lies in front of me, but I understand how I have to face whatever there is. But if someday I find this way wrong, I find your chosen method flawed, I will speak with you once again. People say you can never make mistakes, but now that I live by your terms. I dont listen to people anymore.