A declaration of my plan, just so that I actually carry it out, instead of it merely being a pretty Post It decoration on my wall.
- Hit the library for 12 hours
- Long overdue coffee with pal – 1.0 hour
- Run in Botanical Gardens: 2.5 hrs
- Hit Neil & Cantonment Rd and drop by antique shop on nearby Spottiswoode Ln– 2 hrs
There was a time when life held glorious promises. Promise of new lands to explore, of green valleys to wander in, of brooks to wade in, of peaks to scale, of people to inspire, of yarns to spin, of legends to make…. Oh the heady promise of dizzying freedom from winged flight of endless possibilities.
Where have they all gone? What was a burning torch of passion, is now a mere flickering ember. A mere glimmer. A faint tinkle rather than the mad peals of bells. Have too many practical decisions snuffed the magic out of life? Has everyday monotony of a life lived ordinarily taken toll?
Socrates thought that the best advice he could give his friends was to do all things according to their ability. I thought, until and when I find my answers, I have to do just that – make the best of what I have and do all things to the best of my ability, with dignity and integrity.
But, it's not enough. What makes these sorry daily battles worth fighting? What is the prize? Why carry on the long walk when we know that nothing is for keeps and nothing is constant except, death? Why lead an existence that doesn't seem to have a purpose?
These questions aren't original. They have been asked a guzillion million times before me, and will be after me. That's okay.
I also know that some have found answers. Others haven't. That's okay too. But, what's not okay is to put in a half-hearted battle just because the answers don't seem to come. It's criminal disrespect for Life. And lately, over the last couple of years, I have been guilty of this.
Perhaps I have been in an unstimulating environment for too long. Perhaps I need to move on. To get away. To set ablaze to backups, to spit in the face of caution, to reap the wild winds. Go. Fly. Live.
For now I shall go for my lunch hour walk. Perhaps I shall run into Jedidiah again.
I spoke to a friend for a long time yesterday. It is very hard to follow the wise line "Run as wild as you wish, but do not faint." I thought I had it all figured. I don't. I still fumble. I still faint.
It happened during my lunch hour walk yesterday. I was ambling along the streets behind the huge field which is behind my office which is behind ...well never mind. 'Twas lovely weather. Heavenly breeze and a kindly Sun occasionally peeking through fluffy white clouds.
To digress, I confess that I like to go 'house watching'. It's a habit I might have picked up as a kid growing up in Vizag, cycling along the roads in the MVP and Lawsons's Bay area, looking at houses lining the streets, sensing their aura - whether they were loved or unloved, happy or sad, imagining the stories that the houses might have witnessed. There is an art to House Watching. Not that I have mastered it. But I know a couple of things. Especially when it comes to guessing about the people in the houses. The no-brainers are whether there are kids or old folks living in the house, depending on toys strewn in the yards or well used lawn furniture. Whether the woman of the household is a homemaker or a career woman judging from the din (or the absence of it) in the kitchen in the afternoons. Whether someone in the house has a lot of patience if the garden is full of blooming rose bushes, or very little of it if its full of crotons. Whether....well I dont remember many. Actually, they no longer seem close to Holme's deductions anymore. Although as a kid, I thought they were pretty swell . I guess I have to stop being delusional.
Fine! Okay! Si! I admit, I lost touch. But the love for House Watching hasnt diminished. So, this particular lunch hour walk, I found some ridiculous houses. The most outlandish one was a mansion that was fashioned with Tudor windows and gables. Garn! Squat in the middle of Singapore in the 21th century! It was very ugly, pretentious ugly and positively comic. Well, then again, you do what you want with your money. I found some beautiful homes too. This one particularly old house caught my eye. A cat was sleeping on the compound wall which had ivy creeping all over. Giant tree in the yard groaning in the wind. Azaleas popping from flower tubs. Many many beautiful wind chimes hung in the patio. They were dancing madly in the breeze. It was a spectacle worth hearing. The cat yawned lazily. I think it was pregnant. It was a picture of harmony and contentment. The house was weathered and well lived in. It was a happy house.
Anyways, i digress. So, I finally reached Exeter Rd, at about 15 minutes after the clocks chimed 1300hrs. Which clocks you ask? The bells of St Joseph's Institution for Juniors. So, I ran into hordes of sweaty, unruly boys, running around to meet parents or to board their buses and generally creating good natured ruckus. Right off Exeter Rd, there is a mammoth sized pedestrian overhead bridge with endless steps. I began climbing up these. The view from the bottom of the stairs was quite brilliant. Practically a Stairway to Heaven - blue blue skies, white white clouds, showers of dried yellow leaves from surrounding trees in the wind.
Then. Then I noticed a 9 year old St Joseph's boy, with a huge backpack slung over his back. He was right at the top of the stairs all set to descend. But instead of climbing down the stairs, he hopped on to the steel bannister adjoining the stairs of the over head bridge and began descending by sliding , swooping, gliding at a speed of atleast 100km/hr. I am talking about the height of about some 50/60 odd stairs. He had more elegance than the Man on the Trapeze you saw in your circus visit 23 years ago. Insouciance, a careless grin, wind in his hair, hands open in a gesture of easy confidence.
So much that I instinctively stopped mid step, watched him with increasing admiration. It was over in a blip. But I was gobsmacked by the whole beauty of it. So much that it hit me in the pit of my tummy and I found that I was holding my breathe.
When he reached the foot of the stairs, I couldnt help but exclaim, "Awesome!" That was when he noticed his audience. And believe you me, I kid you not, this charmer of a tyke winked at me with a huge grin! And jaunted off in a easy gait that foretold that if life treats this 9 year old right, he will have the world in his hands. Or at the very least, he will break a couple of hearts.
All this while, there was another boy racing down the steps, calling out to this tyke, "Jedidiah! Jedidiah!" (Yes, St Joseph's is a Catholic Inst. U can guess from the names! Not that it matters of course). This second kid he saw me watching with admiration, gave me a thumbs up sign while passing and said, "He's good, aah?" I laughed and carried on climbing the stairs.
There are moments in your life when you feel something monumental has just happened and you fumble to grasp its full meaning. This is not one of them.
Then there other moments in your life when something quite random happens and you are reminded of the joie de vivre you had as a kid or the premonition you always had as a kid of grand things to come, a sorts of auspicium meliori Aevi except not in the coming era, but in your coming days, in your very life and that "Life [still] remains a blessing, although you cannot bless", although you are all grown up.
This moment was of this kind
A bit o' sun, a gust of wind, a patch of blue skies, a twinkle in the eye and an insouciant soul are good things for the lethargic soul.
You may want something.
But not at the expense of your self worth.
Strive, but dont lose sight of your principles.
Nothing in this world is worth losing your integrity for.
Nothing.
Let it go.
If it was yours, it will come back.
Let it go.
And you shall be free.
Men are so tiresome. They never pay attention when you say "I need to talk". I mean just the other day, I had something of great importance to discuss with Dad. So, I sat down next to him on the couch while he was watching TV,
Me: "Dad, I need your honest feedback. Are you listening?
Dad [with full attention]: "Yeah what is it?"
Me: "Well this thought has been troubling me for a bit, for a while actually. You know, like I am so totally in a dilemma. You could actually say its a sorta like a conundrum, but then its kinda bizarre. But whatever. I mean, I have been seriously thinking that I shouldn't do it. But then there are various reasons why I haven't totally written it off yet……[noticing that Dad's eyes were wavering back to the TV, so poking him] Dad are you listening ?
Dad[guiltily]: Yeah. Something is bothering you.
Me: Yeah so I was wondering if I should blah…blah…blah…yada...yada...yada. So you tell me, should I get my hair straightened again? "
...
silence
..
..
Dad [blinks]: eh?
Me: [suspicious that he hadn't noticed I straightened my hair about 9 months ago] Dad, you know that I straightened my hair, dontcha?
Dad [desperate to get back to TV, and very unconvincingly]: Of course.
Me[poking him for attention]: Dad, so should I straighten it again?
Dad [fiddling with the remote]: "Its alright I guess"
Me[exasperated]: "You mean, its alright now when its curly or its alright to straighten it?
Dad: "Yes"
Me[poking insistently]: "Dad, that's a Multiple Choice Question. Not Yes or No question"
Dad[reading the teletext news]: "uh-hmm"
Me[whining]: "Maaaaaooooommmmyyy. Dad never listens to me."
Nothing is for keeps.
Not loves nor hates,
not music nor words,
not tears nor laughs,
Listen to the whispers of your heart.
Listen carefully.
Tread with caution.
This is life.
Have you noticed, that perfectly innocent words like 'nice', 'tolerable' 'satisfying' have grown to have a negative connotation? I mean, so much so that, it's as good as insulting to describe a boy or a dress as 'nice'. We have to be extreme in the choice of our adjectives - It was awesome. The food was divine, the music was awful, mind blowing, fantabulous, abysmally pathetic …..
I admit that I am guilty of this sin too. We have to return to more steady adjectives and reverse this adjective extremism.
I have lived in Singapore for extended periods of time. But I have never been emotionally attached to the city state. So saying, however, I did not feel like an intruder as you do in a city you are visiting for, say, a month. But this one month during my parents' absence, I've been feeling like an outsider in this city. I have been walking along familiar paths, and yet, there is a sense of not belonging. Every day as I walk back home from the train station, I don't feel like I am going home.
Now, I am not a very emotional person. I can survive and be fine without many people. I didn't need to come home for holidays during college because other unseen lands beckoned to me. I don't need to talk to my parents everyday because a world of exciting acquaintances awaits me.
But, I suppose, the human parts of me are still in tact for it has dawned on me that, right now, home is where my parents are. Not my heart is.