Find Love

You need to fall in love with something, fast. You need to find something that drives you, forward or insane, either will do. It's not right to wake up every morning and not have anything to look forward to. You need to fight sleep every night because you need to. You need to dream dreams that compel you stay awake. Ignore fatigue, drink coffee, fall asleep on your keyboard, drool, all that jazz. You... need... to... fall... in... love... again. 

The questions are out there

Is our search for intelligent life out there a need to discover them, or a need to be discovered? We always expect an evolved alien race to deem us worthy enough of their time and knowledge. Which is why I ask, is our search stemming from basic human curiosity or a desperate need to find someone who can give us all the answers? Someone who can explain the absurdity and futility of life and the universe. A species that has done all the dirty work, arrived at the right conclusions, figured it all out and can explain all that we can't.

Well, what if whatever's out there is just as smart as us, as confused as us? What if it's going to ask the same things that we will? And god forbid, have us answer our own questions. In which case, why don't we just start now. So the next time we wake up, stand in front of the mirror on a cold Monday morning and question our existence, let's have an answer.

Somewhere, still.

Somewhere in the bylanes I've forgotten. The smell of my newly painted almirah. The feeling of space it brought with it, three keys to a safe nobody else had access to, a shelf each for all my belongings, the first piece of property I would own. The sunlight as it trickles through the leaves and branches on a lazy sunday afternoon in winter. And my cycle. And those cantt streets of Allahabad. And of Asansol. The smell of leaves burning. Autumn. Real Autumn. Real rain. Real spring. With grass you can walk on, flowers you can pluck and dragon flies you can wear as badges. Fire-flies. The first time I let go of my hands riding my cycle, riding my cycle back from school. And I closed my eyes. And I'm pretty sure I smiled. A real smile. The first time I saw that white 800 standing in my driveway. The way those seats felt. Playing music on my 2-in-1. Rewinding. P&Ts. The first time I spoke to a girl on the phone. And the time when it lasted an hour. And the time it lasted the whole night. Looking up when it rains. Walking around the bend, renting comics, getting my cycle pumped. That little chowk in civil lines. Pulling a dare there. Riding pillion on scooters. Crossing the railway track. Tying my shoe-laces without messing it up. Running bare foot. Finally being able to read the time. Still not being able to tell left from right. Getting lost in the bylanes. Forgetting that I'm lost.

Circuits and diagrams

I've always understood math. Not the complex problem solution type arithmetic though. The simple math. Equations, and their need to balance. Numbers and calculations that comprise and compromise us. The logic gates, and the chaos theories. Maths I get.

The choices I've made, and will keep making, are all governed by simple rules. Rules that have been a part of me even before I understood what society was. The mind is a complex circuit, it's got algorithms and programs pre-built into it. Human nature, for example, is a set of instructions. Rage, love, pity, envy, they're all programs that run on different sets of instructions. I was born with my set of instructions. My destiny is hard-wired into my brain.

I though do have a firewall. Something that, more often than not, prevents society's viruses or trojans from creeping in. It's called free-will. Mine's a bit stronger than others. But it's passed through many beta-stages. And many, many more upgrades are yet to come. The same goes for a lot of other programs I'm running. Those who don't understand these upgrades, often mistake it for coming-of-age or maturity. I see this as self-evolution. Who's gonna wait for nature anyways?

What does scare me though are the programs that I feel are becoming redundant. Some very powerful emotions I feel I've either modified or over time have slowly diminished. I still recall them from memory because they make for good scripts and decent headlines. But I can't be too sure if I still feel them like I'm supposed to. Only angels know.

Reboot.