Days of our lives

I find it really difficult to reconcile with my self. I think of myself as a disciplined disciplinarian but I am perhaps the laziest person I know. I am proud of my intelligence and range of knowledge but I am also the biggest idiot I have ever known. I think I am a sociopath, abhor most people, and think of myself as a loner - the Steppenwolf! And yet, I have had so many friends that every calendar day feels like it is special for some reason, with some friend - a birthday, a memory, a proposal, a breakup, a sweet moment, a bitter fight, a patch up, and what not!! 

Like today only, talking to Didi, I mentioned 8th November and recalled what a special day it is. In fact, November is probably the most eventful month with everything listed above. I could have celebrated today also, if only life went as per plans and I was in Indore. Then there is October - my own birthday, that of closest friends, silent crushes, and many firsts! July is also very special - with the most beloved birthdays and most bittersweet moments. 

And perhaps, every other month also - December, March, June, February, May.... Just that all that remains there is a few memories of a few moments with a few mortals... and at the end, all I have is this line:

कुछ दोस्तों से वैसे मरासिम नहीं रहे...

Aujourd'hui, Maman est morte!

Not really! But in the past few days, I thought of this line by Meursault a lot. The opening line of Camus' novel "L'Étranger" (The stranger; or, The outsider) translates to "mom died today".

Fortunately, that didn't happen with me. But my father had a harrowing experience. I arrived in Lucknow for a Diwali vacation and just out of airport, I was told that he has fallen into a delirium. He could not identify me, could not remember who he was, and his timeline of last 50 years was enmeshed badly. The details are, perhaps, unnecessary and unnecessarily painful. But the whole ordeal of two weeks amidst hospitals, doctors, tests, medicines, and worst of all - a parent not in physical and mental senses! 

There were times when I felt so helpless and ineffectual, there were nights that were just passed staring in the abyss, and there were moments of extreme loneliness despite not being alone at any moment. One such moment was doing Diwali Puja alone. Papa did a very elaborate Puja, full of paraphernalia, stretched beyond my patience, and delayed my time for fireworks. I always felt like it should finish quick. Well, this year, I did finish it very quickly and early. And on that evening, I was wishing for all the delays he could have made - I didn't want to lead the Puja and finish quickly. I was fine with all the delays and without fireworks but that was not to be this time.

Anyhow, things have, hopefully, turned for good. I also learnt a few things about geriatric care, brain, physiology, neurology, medicine, and a lot of stuff I wish nobody has to learn the way I had to. Remembered a lot of things from Atul Gawande's "Being Mortal: Medicine and What Matters in the End", a book about geriatric care which I read long ago and for no reason. 

I know things will reach someday where Meursault was. I just wish to be there, in that moment, not alone, not helpless, and not the outsider!

Aar Kichhudin Tarpor Bela Mukti

There is an old-old and not so well-known song by Majrooh and Kishore Kumar - 

Chand roz aur 

meri jaan chand roz,

tere gham ke din

mere gham ke din

chale jayenge, kaha maan

chand roz...

One shouldn't visit old places, shouldn't read old diaries, and most of all, not search old mails. Look what I found today: 

A mail from an old student, replied in great detail, with an old favorite song, copied to an old favorite... weather has been very moist in Indore lately. It rains any time without warning. Before I say more, listen to what Anjan DUTTA is singing to Bela Bose - Few days more Bela, and then there is freedom - Aar Kichhudin Tarpor Bela Mukti !!

Go away and come back 24 years ago!

 You know a sure shot sign of old age? You start remembering a lot of your days bygone. I guess I have always been very old. And yet, I get older each day as I reminisce the past more!

And lately, I have been thinking which was the best year / period of my life. As 2023 was ending, I was certain that this would not be the best year despite my best publication record thus far, good investment decisions, and lovable travels to almost every corner of India. I think the past two years were marked by a lot of material or worldly gains but a lot more inner turmoil, a sense of loss, and getting past many personal attachments.

Well, I kept scanning the life for a patch of an year where I would want to go back again and again, nostalgically at the least if not with a time-machine too. Maybe 2016 with a lot of international travel and teaching in Thailand? Or 2018, when I got a lot of what I could ever ask for? Or 2014 with mental peace, promotion, and political wishes fulfillment too? Perhaps none of these years!

What about IIMA days? Despite the nostalgia painting those days in a lot of happy colors, I am certain that I do not want to re-live those days again. And neither the school days, which I enjoyed a lot but the childhood trauma also never left my side. 

Finally, I could zero-down on one year / period which I would love to go back to. It was around 2001, when I was in Lucknow University. The study load was low and expectations were even lower. I was sitting in business with Papa and had more money than I needed. I had little responsibility in business so I had enough carefree time too to read all the books and to hangout with all the friends. Early morning walks, daily Ganjing with Gunjan, late night beside Gomti with Parimal. I was in the prime of my health. Lucknow was easy going and easier on our two-wheels. Love life was nowhere on the horizon and that was also great in a sense, because there was nobody to worry about.

But you know what? I think it would be true for everyone. Not 2001 precisely. Duh! But perhaps the age of 18-22. That is when, after all, your life path is decided and you make all the good and bad decisions and you live with all of those. Perhaps its not the year that I miss. It's the age.