The Pitstop

Today’s been one of the happiest days for me. Full of a feeling of contentment, completeness, satisfaction, and in some sense, of a victory in a long-fought battle.

The plight is that I cannot share my happiness with anybody . I’d like to keep it a secret from even myself, so I remain grounded and lest my little, delicate bubble of dream bursts.

Why blog about it then if I cannot share it? So that I can remember this day when I look back at it. Its a bookmark for me in my memory logs for the day I felt contented and sensed soul-touching happiness.

"jo gumshuda-sa khwaab tha
voh mil gaya
voh khil gaya
woh loha tha - pighal gaya"

Every body around me (at least 7 out of 10 people) is a somebody, excelling in something they can boast about. I am not talking about the skills they have acquired in their career/profession. I am talking about the passions they have pursued outside their profession. So, a doctor may be an outstanding cook and may have published a couple of books, or a restaurateur may be seriously pursuing painting on the side, or an IT engineer may be a photography buff. There are people who engage in social activities over the weekend, some others contribute to the Opensource world, and yet others are busy honing their skills at dance. In earlier times, just pursuing a job in addition to being a mother, father, son was doing the exceptional. Now, it seems you have some standing, you are some somebody only if you’re doing something over and above your job.

Me? I am neither a poet, nor a writer. Neither a painter, nor a rock climber. Neither a social activist, nor a good citizen. Neither a dancer, nor a good cook. There isn’t a single thing I can say I am good at or I would love to do. I am just living as it comes, not striving to be anywhere, not striving to be somebody, not striving to sharpen any skills that I may be faintly good at it. I am not passionate about something/anything. Or so it seems. Because there are things I would like to pursue but I am not pushy enough to bring them to implementation. That makes me seem uncaring, unpassionate about my apparent “passions”.

Who then am I? Where do I stand in the society? What am I contributing to the world? What am I achieving in my lifetime? Do I really need to be somebody? Can’t I just be, be nobody, be whatever I am, just continue to live life the way its going, and gradually wither off?

The good news is that that my going away from this world will not be such a big loss for the humankind. Nobody is going to particularly miss me for some skills I possessed because I never acquired them. I don’t necessarily yearn for people to remember me after I am gone, or for that matter, even when I exist.