The weirdness that I am....

Life is about twists and turns, ups and downs, the good and the bad, and the downright ugly; right? Most of us would like to live out their lives to a point where they can look back and not regret their journey. We, as a species, seem to be endowed with the capability to withstand insurmountable odds and attempt triumph. We have the cognitive capacity to understand abstractions like responsibility, accountability, morality, religiosity and other words with -ity at the end. And certainly, evolution played it's part in deeply instilling the survival instinct into all of us. Everything seems to tie into each other and play it's part in having us attempt to live as comfortably as possible through our path from birth to death. Not everybody likes everything they do during this journey but they seem to have the ability to adopt a fatalistic approach and shrug it off as something that was needed to be done. I swear, the holy God as my witness, I envy you all.

In one of my earlier blogs, I remarked that I might be an oddity stuck in an alternate reality. A good friend corrected me saying that I was an oddity stuck in this reality. And I am. My difference in a sense of self and a basic understanding of all of this started to develop by the time I was in the 6th grade or the 7th grade. I was not the brightest kid around and I knew that I wouldn't excel in academics a great deal. The reason was not that I wasn't the brightest. We all know human beings who, by nature of tremendous perseverance, have achieved great things. I knew I wouldn't excel in academics, or anything for that matter, because I simply did not care. That seems a vague statement and could have the reader's mind catch one of several trains of thought. And it is my intention to impress upon you to interpret it in the broadest possible manner. When I say I did not care, it doesn't mean that I wouldn't have wanted to get good grades or do well in something or that I wouldn't have derived any sense of accomplishment from doing above said things. I mean that whatever i perceived as meaningless, success or failure in the same also became meaningless to me. Small academic successes occurred sparsely and while these brought a little ray of joy into my life, I never managed to sustain them through and through because I always ended up asking the question, "What's the point?".

It might seem a foolish question and one that is borne of immature impertinence. It might also be one of those questions that doesn't really have a fixed answer and the answer is different for all of us. But everyone will unanimously agree that there is a point to everything we do in life. I am yet to find the point or the meaning. Even at a very young age, the thought of enduring drudgery simply to survive till death felt like a foolish notion. Somehow, the omnipresent idea that life was a gift and meant to be preserved at any cost seemed incorrect and devoid of proper reasoning. At that age I couldn't really explain my feelings or even understand why I felt that way. I was detached from my childhood in a major way because of this. Maybe it was because of all the psychiatric drugs I was put on to restore me back to 'normality' or maybe it was because of who I was and the way I perceived existence that I cannot remember more than the most meagre details about my childhood and school. When I try to think about it, it just feels like wading through a dull suffocating haze. Whenever I attempt to recall something specific about my childhood it leaves me with a feeling of utter discomfort. I don't know what exactly happened. To my knowledge I did not suffer any kind of major trauma. The only explanation that I can offer that makes any kind of sense is that I disconnected myself from the world. And why? Because I found it all meaningless. I've been obsessed with thoughts of death since very early in life. I even attempted it once. The thought of Death as a first resort has always been fairly common to me. And when the survival instinct in me kicks in and argues furiously against the idea, my mind always comes back with that damn question, "What is the point?".

To this day I have no answer and I honestly feel it no less than a small miracle that I'm still around to say all of this. This search for an idealistic concept of meaning has led me to destroy almost every single opportunity in my life to progress or do any good, to myself or the others around me. It's like a singular thread of failure running throughout as a result of 'giving up'. I have taken up (and given up on) nearly anything that I could try. I have a great initial fire to do something and days, weeks, or rarely, months into it, I start questioning the point of it and the lack of meaning and then ultimately quit without a thought about the consequences and the long term implications. I barely passed my 10th and the 12th. I abandoned two attempts at trying to earn a degree. I blame circumstances for my first failed attempt but maybe it's just denial at work. Maybe I lost faith in my endeavor and I set into motion a chain of events that ultimately led me to give it up too. I don't know what my problem is. I'd like to think that i'm still searching for an outlet that will let me focus my energy and when I find it, everything will be okay. It's very scary to think of the alternative (and possibly probable) point of view that it is in my nature to lose interest and then quit. If that is the case, I don't know what it makes me. A failure? A loser? A victim of his own mind? Does it really matter? I've been fortunate enough in life until now to always have someone waiting to catch me when I fall. That's not going to continue a whole hell of a lot longer. What will happen when I'm at the end of the road with nothing to my name? I don't know. The fear or anxiety I feel at that thought is never enough to make me reconsider my decision when giving up something. My mind is a scene of conflict and no side seems to be fighting with my best interests at heart. And the brunt of the collateral damage is inflicted upon the people that care for me, my friends and my family. The damage is both tangible and intangible. The people who care for me are the ones that are most vexed with me. It seems nothing short of an impossibility to try and make do something that will end up doing good for me. Injecting positivity into me is as good as trying to stick a needle into a rock and injecting water into it. Everybody tries to help and after sometime everybody throws up their hands and walks away.

I understand how tiring it might be to have someone like me as a friend or a family member. The whole idea of community is to try and help each other through life to achieve something good for yourself and each other. And when one of your ranks has fallen down and refuses to get up despite possessing the physical facilities to do so, it is confusing and frustrating. After a while though, people just give up and express thinly disguised apathy or disdain. Maybe i'll end up in life without a single clue, destitute. And maybe the thought of such a thing happening might be tremendously difficult for you to comprehend. I would just like people to understand that it is not a preferred alternative for me and if I could, i would take any and all steps to avoid it. I just want people to understand that the state of destituteness is much more preferable to me than doing something I hate simply to go through the biological mechanisms and live out my life till death. If I get to do something that I like and it helps me prosper, it would mean that someone somewhere is looking out for me. If it doesn't happen, it just means that He's too busy. I'll just be one more example of natural selection. I do not mean to sound callous or indifferent. I just wanted to express my process of thought. If you think i'm bull shitting and i'm simply lazy, cowardly, or any other colorful word you can think of, that's your call. I'm sure you'd understand that it's a good bet that someone who doesn't give a damn about life or death wouldn't fret a lot about what people think of him. I just wanted to write out some of my thoughts, there is no underlying purpose or message here. Say anything you want, just try and see things through my eyes, that's all. I hope all of you have wonderful lives.

Whispers through the darkness....

I was watching Shutter Island today and it completely screwed my head over. I was later looking through some old folders and found these notes. It's funny how a bunch of words on paper can cause you to relive memories in terrifyingly vivid detail. I was in two minds about whether to post these or not, but then denial of what you were in the past only leads to something bad. Acceptance of your past is a step towards affirmation and validation of your present. These were written a long time ago and may reflect in them all the immaturity i possessed back then. You can ask questions if you want, i may not answer them. You can question the logic or the absurdities, i may not reply. If it feels like adolescent angst, it probably is. Whatever you take from it is yours alone. I don't want people telling me that life is beautiful and any of that New Age philosophy crap. Keep it to yourself. Just read them and tell me what you think of them, if you want to.

Note 1
Those of us on that stand on the edge of the cliff called sanity always have the ocean of insanity staring us in the face. The stench hangs heavy in the air and we wobble dangerously, always pulling ourselves back just in time. Ceaselessly however, the waves of the mighty sea crash down constantly on the seemingly invulnerable structure and the cliff erodes slowly unbeknownst to us. As time passes the ground that always seemed solid beneath you seems suddenly shaky and before long you sink into the sea clinging tightly to all your convictions. You drown to the bottom; your face a picture of screwed up pain and adamancy. Eventually you're consumed and are neither distinct nor visible to those that care to look in. You are no more you. Some of us wake up in the middle of this perilous demise and try to claw their way back to land, only to be pushed firmly back in again. The weight of the ocean crushes you down while you lie there helpless. Memories flow out through your tears. Your mind poisons itself to try and stay alive and is corroded into nothingness. Soon, the shell withers away and no trace remains. Glimpses, musings, and flashes of memory are the only evidence that you ever existed and the fire of sympathy and pity burns them clean as well. A soul is lost where nobody was ever sure if one existed. Nothing changes though. Does the universe flinch if a microcosm within itself disappears? It cannot.

Note 2
Do you know what it means to question your sanity? One of the fundamental foundations of a person's existence and affirmation of the same is the ability to have complete faith in your rationality and goodness of state of mind. Do you know how it feels when that wall is shattered to pieces? We have an operating perception and definition of the world that we live in and the reality that we derive from it. When the acidic doubt seeps through it feels like ice running through your veins. The pain that you experience when you start questioning your own actions is indescribable. The conflict that arises out of a disconnect within yourself is powerful enough to rip you apart. Physical pain is excruciating and causes a visceral physical reaction. Extreme mental pain numbs you and washes away all your feeling. You gasp for a second and then sensation fades around you.
Disbelief takes hold of you and slowly gives way to helpless acceptance. You become the constant in a storm of blur. Hopelessness embraces you and leads you gently away. All sense of purpose and meaning vanishes and the very concept of either exists no more. Oblivion incites a sweetness in you and entices you towards it. Nothing is real. Nothing matters. Nobody cares and it means nothing to you even if they did. Life becomes a bitter smile on a face that has nothing to look forward to. And in your head a silent scream echoes continuously begging for help. Nobody listens of course. You dance in the quicksand. Life lives you, the end comes and then you're no more. Maybe you're free. I hope you are.

Note 3
My pretty delusional world is so pretty. It's breathtaking and I feel wonderful in it. Nobody hurts me. Everybody is nice to me. I am loved. I am respected. I am listened to. Isn't my world so nice? My pretty delusional world listens to me and moulds itself accordingly. My world tells me to stay with it all the time. I am not crazy. Maybe I am. But i'm not. Nothing makes sense anymore. I can't bear isolation and i have to live in it. Freedom is everything to me and i have to live like a slave. I am denied my sense of sanity and pushed to have it affirmed by someone who professes to understand me. What kind of an existence is this? Am I selfish to want to escape? Isn't it cruel to expect someone to bear this torture silently? Why is it that the people who "love" me think that my salvation lies in suffering? Why do i have to conform? Why is normality always the benchmark that i am measured against? And why do i never meet this supposedly attainable expectation? Sadness is forbidden and passive rebellion needs to be murdered. I wish i could opt out of life. Is is too much to ask for happiness or try to take some time to find it? Life doesn't stop for you though. I guess i wasn't made for this world. What is the point of writing all of this? It doesn't help. Nothing ever does. The pills are mild ineffective sedatives, the therapy is a joke, and the support is non-existent. A feeling of betrayal is prevalent throughout and is eating me alive. What can you do when the people you trust don't trust you anymore? I don't know. Tough questions with no answers. A waste of a gift. An unavoidable liability. Something that went wrong. Colorful phrases that sum up my life. What a joke. Whatever.

Death wish.....

The general sense of understanding that I get when I speak to people about life is that it's 'precious', 'beautiful', 'a gift', 'divine', and all that positive crap. Everyone of these people would also be the first to admit that there's a healthy abundance of misery, pain, hopelessness, and abject sorrow in this world. But conveniently the first category of description reigns supreme and is apparently the one that's relevant. Whenever I speak to people about my disorder (I have Bipolar Type II) and the days I really used to struggle with it, they always look me up and down with that wretchedly disgusting expression of self-pity, fake understanding and express how 'lucky' I am to have survived it. Oh really? That's an interesting word right there; lucky.

In this particular context that word indicates an abstraction which is a juxtaposition of one component of randomness, coincidence, and serendipity and another component suggesting that the set of circumstances that led me to that particular horrible point of time of the conversation were somehow salvantional in nature. The simple fact that life somehow superceded death in one's existence seems justification enough to rejoice and proclaim it as the better alternative. What is this delusion about life that our society seems to possess? I'd like to think that at a certain time in History there were a set of individuals that looked at life and death as natural occurrences and took both in objective stride. When did we change? When did we become a set of simpering wimpy individuals that look at death as mysterious, sad, and even sometimes evil phenomenon? Why is there so much stigma surrounding any decision that shows even the slightest inclination towards the intentional bringing about of death in one's existence? Why do we percieve and try to act out an obligation from whoever-the-hell to struggle against overwhelming odds simply to survive and live?

I'm not saying that that we should all jump ship at the first sign of trouble but as a thinking and (hopefully) rational individual I simply am astounded by why an educated and thoughtful decision to die is almost never considered to be legitimate and perspicacious. Why is a decision to live considered compos mentis and propitous by default whereas a decision to die is almost always associated with pusillanimity and temporary temerity? The first aspect of the latter is something that has always highly vexed me. Why the hell do people associate wanting to die, with cowardice? Does it make any sort of sense whatsoever? I do not believe so. They say that the people who take steps to end their lives do so unable to cope with their lives and this is somehow suggestive of cowardice. I cannot think of anything more foolish. I'd like to flip this on it's head and say that people who try to claw and scratch their way out of even the most desperate situations using any and all means possible are the cowards because they're afraid of death and the unknown.

Read that sentence again. Do you see how odd it sounds? Do you realize how at odds it is with everything we've known and have been taught in our lives? To persevere against supposed impossibility and to triumph is the bedrock of human nature, right? Maybe it is and maybe it isn't. I know that what i said isn't true. So when we're so sure that the decision to try and survive is so rational and self-affirming, shouldn't we dignify the decision to die just the same? The laws and regulations in most countries regarding self-inflicted death seem archaic when we really start to open our minds and pursue this line of thought. Not only is it frowned upon in India but it is also illegal to attempt to commit suicide. You can actually be arrested and charged if you're caught and you survive. Have you heard of anything more ridiculous? Is that empowering? How is that affirming your liberty as a rational and thinking individual? Isn't that moral, ethical, and ideological policing at work? They say that the law exists to protect the interests of the society keeping in mind it's constant progression. How beneficial is it to society to try and prevent individuals who want to die from doing so and trying to rehabilitate them?

I think the underlying problem can be found in the way that we've tainted death. We've collectively made Death seem like this impending hell that is intrinsically somehow evil if pursued before one's natural time. Look at the number of positively senile, incapacitated and utterly decrepit individuals that we put on respirators and other life support machines in a futile attempt to prolong their life by a few days or weeks. Why is it so hard to come to terms with death for us? I don't understand. Maybe i'm simply an oddity stuck in an alternate reality but I have never had a problem accepting death. It is absolutely natural for me and maybe that is the reason why it seems logical to me to want to choose death in lieu of life.

There's no end to this argument and i can speak for hours about this but i guess what i'm trying to say is that, in a situation where the individual is mentally and physically healthy, an educated and thought out decision to die should be respected and allowed without too much much objection. And also, life is not always the automatically better alternative. Sometimes, for some people, life is that intolerable that a change, any change, even death, seems a better alternative and it is our responsibility as thinking beings to support such a decision and facilitate it, if possible. I don't know, just a thought. Don't hate me for having an opinion and i won't hate you for expressing yours.

Old friends found and friendship rediscovered and reinterpreted.

Too often you start living life in a manner of continuous clichés and according to preconceived notions that you concoct for yourself. Life really starts to suck then. When you've all but given up on any hope for change, along comes a person (in my case, 'The Mad Hatter', but more on that later) or situation that sets in motion events that will turn your whole life around and invoke a completely new perspective on life; or help you rediscover one that lay dying slowly in the back of your mind and heart. My return to Hyderabad occurred under the most unceremonious and distasteful of circumstances. I hated the thought of being smoked out of my comfort zone and dreaded the prospect of returning to a city that I felt I had lost a relationship with. But as with most of the events and circumstances we dread in our life, this had a wonderful aside to it. I rediscovered my friends and rekindled my perspective of what friendship should be.

The first person to even get to know that I was back in Hyderabad was Deba (Debarati Dutta). The relationship that I had with Deba closely mirrors that shared by two close siblings. Aside from the fact that we got along so wonderfully we also shared an intellectual kinship. Combine the two and you have a relationship that can do nothing but blossom. When I met the rest of the guys through Praneet, Deba was one of the first to step forward and take charge of me :) She went out of her way to ensure I was comfortable and I will always be thankful and appreciative for such affection and care. I weighed 126 kilos back then and to say that I had a low self-image and confidence issues would be the understatement of the century. In a sense it was right that she be the first one that I re-established contact with. When she called there was no trace of any judgment or frustration at my not having kept in contact with her all these days. She simply asked me when I was free and told me that I was going to come out for a night with the guys; period. I was slightly uneasy because of my guilt but I agreed immediately because I sorely missed my friends. I was very apprehensive about how they would respond and the night would go on to prove how foolish I was :)

The next to contact me was patla kiran (Vajrala Kiran); another person who I was very close to. He greeted me in his typical fashion; mildly sardonic and utterly to the point :D He made sure that I wasn't going to bail out and then gave me directions to Varun's (Varun Jonnada, the telugu movie mega ultra power superstar!) house. I managed to get slightly lost and asked the guys to come pick me up. As I stood by the side of the road all the distilled emotions of apprehension, nervousness, excitement (and a little fear, i must admit) took hold of me. And then they came. With the same mixture of feelings I followed them back to the house and then it happened. The moment they stepped out of the car and met me was like experiencing a very physical epiphany. It was as if nothing had changed. I could have been meeting them after the space of a single day for all I could tell. There was no difference whatsoever. They received me with their usual rush of affection, good natured ribbing and camaraderie.

There was mota kiran (Vaibhav Arcot), Nireesh (Nireesh Reddy), Shiva (Shiv Charan Racharla), Deba, patla kiran, and of course, Varun. There was alcohol and food. There were video games. There were arguments and there were debates. There were discussions and soul searching. There were vindications and persecutions. There was laughter and joy. In all of this variety a singular thread of pure emotion ran through all of us; the feeling of friendship. I can imagine no place being more safe, comfortable, or plainly speaking, fun. When all of us get going on the alcohol chaos metastasizes quickly throughout the house. It resembles the veritable 'fish market' that every teacher in India talks about when referring to her classroom. But even in all of that chaos a sense of utter tranquility prevails and sitting back and listening to the various conversations, you feel as if you belong. That is not to say that everything was rosy all the time. Nireesh got a little too drunk, we had a slightly heated discussion with shiva, some neighbors complained halfway through the night, but all in all any negativity did not stand a chance compared to the atmosphere. As night turned to day people started slipping away slowly. Some went off to sleep and some went back home. And then the night was over and I came back home.

On the way I had a chance to reflect on everything that had occurred and I realized a few things. Any amount of time spent apart doesn't stand a chance against true friendship. The level of comfort and contentment you get with people who you respect and care about is so whole in itself that it doesn't matter where you are or what you do. When I was first introduced to the entire group by Praneet I marveled at the way they went out of their way to make an outsider feel comfortable and welcome. Two years in Noida seem to have dulled my mind and blinded me to this obvious truth. I feel foolish now to have felt apprehensive coming back to my friends. I should have known better. I do now. I am genuinely thankful to have a group of friends who are all good human beings. There is no malice in even a single one of them and the goodness shines through any shortcomings like a beacon of white light. When I was younger I always saw friendship as temporary bond of co-dependence. Now I realize that no amount of responsibilities, distance or hardships can do a damn thing to dent a good solid friendship. When I ask myself if this kind of friendship has a future the reply is quick and firm; how could it not? Here's looking forward to plenty of happiness and fun. Thank you guys for making my return to Hyderabad an occasion of some joy. I know that I can rely on you guys regardless. And oh, I love you Big Sis :D

(P.S: This will probably be the only emotional blog I will ever write)