Lost Again

It was sunny around. There were two almost unnecessary tubes lighting the room. But it felt dark inside. Three people shared the same table with me as I typed in the stuff my heart narrated. Neither of them had any inkling of the quandary my heart was in. The word that can describe the state of mind that possessed me was- Lost. I was lost.

Usually no one claims to know the path, but somehow it is considered unnecessary to feel lost. You acquire the habit of living without knowing the path. I have always fascinated myself with an explorer. An explorer can never be lost; he just keeps on exploring more. But somehow the necessity of direction becomes inevitable to the smooth living and peace of mind. It feels better to know the road ahead than to know that you rode ahead.

I have gotten over bothering myself with most of my feelings. I have accepted the lull of happiness as a default sentiment and any action can only make me happier. But somehow the lack of action prompts me to go into a deep contemplative mood trying to figure out if the actions are leading somewhere, if the path is right.

The predicament lies not in the dearth of paths that I have to choose; it’s the excess of it. People, mainly those who are successful and appreciated, have vouched for ideals like devotion, dedication, determination, but to what? I think it is much easier to find the three Ds for a chosen path than to choose the path. Out of so many influences you have in your lifetime, how do you ever figure out what is your true calling (if something like that exists) ?

I don’t like to choose paths. I have wanted to do everything. Being the best at everything would be the dream situation for me, but in being practical, the dream falls apart. There is always so much more that I want to contain in the clasp of my hand, that I can do nothing but not be excellent at anything.

The worker who stitches buttons in an assembly line contributes to the company whose shirts are sold. The worker gets his profits and is called successful. But what if I like to design the shirt and dye the cloth and cut the cloth and stitch the buttons and market the shirt? I wouldn’t be as good as someone who just stitches the buttons or just cuts the cloth but I will have the satisfaction of making my shirt and selling it. Still, I won’t be successful.

The dilemma here is to compromise success for satisfaction. Now success also satisfies and the lack of it will again dissatisfy. The optimization problem of satisfaction and success is a rather tricky one and has me stalemate most of the times.

That being my true self, I really don’t know what to chose. The positive side being there is a high probability of me liking almost everything I do, the negative that really bothers me is that it won’t be long before my interest wavers and I’ll miss all that I do not. Why does the world want you to be specialists? Can’t you be someone who knows only a little about everything, does only a little of everything and still be called successful?

Etiquette

I hate all kinds of etiquette apart from those that are necessitated by hygiene. Its just out of fear of being a social outcast that I follow the norms. One day when I am important enough, and not really needing people think very highly of me, I will seek this feeling of freedom from etiquette. I will break the unsaid rules.

10 steps to feel awesome and rebellious in a five star restaurant in India

1) Enter the restaurant in a dhoti-kurta and Gandhi cap carrying your belongings bundled in a large piece of cloth. Remove your shoes outside the hotel area and walk into the eating place naked feet with dhoti in one hand

2) Take a place and sit with your legs folded on a sofa chair and sit back and make sure that a little of your pot belly is visible to the people

3) Take time to read the menu and read out the dishes slowly and loudly in colloquial pronunciations so that at least 5 tables around you can hear you

4) Call the waiter for help with the menu, address him in your mother tongue, avoid Hindi/English and if he doesn’t understand pretend to sound very irritated and finally order soup and then rub your hands and keep licking your lips loudly till you are not served

5) Once the plates have arrived bang the spoons and forks on the table loudly, cry out in your mother tongue saying that you are very hungry and keep doing this till you are served

6) Once the soup arrives, remove the spoon from the bowl and then drink directly from the bowl slurping very loudly. Make sure that you also drop enough soup on the sofas and your clothes

7) After drinking half, call the waiter loudly and angrily and tell him that the soup tastes like piss and you have tasted better in a highway dhaba. Then order the main course and repeat steps 5 and 6

8) Once the main course arrives. Don’t wait for the waiter to serve you. Put both your hands in the serving bowls and start eating very fast. Tell the waiter to immediately take away the useless spoons and fork.

9) After eating half your food, ask the waiter loudly about the toilet. Go to the toilet with your bundle. Change to your Raymonds suiting which you should have carried in your bundle

10) Come back. Now behave in full on English manners. Call the waiter and scold him politely that he hadn’t got forks and spoons along. And then eat the remaining food like an Englishmen making proper use of the eating gadgetry. Pay the check and leave everyone stunned and wondering

To begin with...

These are mainly my musings about the world. A personal endeavor on a public domain.