In English, August Agastya Sen’s father tells him at some point - “Most of us live with a vague dissatisfaction if we are lucky. Living as we do, upon us is imposed a particular rhythm – birth, education, job, marriage, birth again. But we all have minds don’t we.”
I don’t know if I can call myself lucky, but I suffer from this wretched disease. Of persistent dissatisfaction. Of an inability to calm down, embrace peace and emotional stability. It may be a bearable affliction compared to many other illnesses, yet it plays havoc with the system. With age and maturing relationships, one needs to bring harmony in daily life, fit into the society (that we are condemned with) and settle down emotionally. Suppress restlessness. Tame the spirit. Buy peace (however expensive or damaging it may be). Angst looks good on you when you are a teenager. Or in your twenties. Anytime after that, it comes across as foolish, fatuous, faked.
But instead of taking inspiration, I look with trepidation at those dispassionate faces who have made their peace with life. Their restful looks and dull smiles of contentment throttle my spirit. Instead of the unbridled joy that turning calm is supposed to bring, it makes me terribly afraid. Afraid of a life akin to one in a mental facility. Sedated, calm, functioning like an assembly line. Your own life turned into a generic component.
Then I seek expert help. Best friend (woman) brushes it aside, .“Silly girl. Why can’t you like dailiness and peace? What else is there? Anyway you have never been the party-type” It’s a passion of the spirit, I argue, nothing to do with wanting to party. Best friend (male) says gravely, “I have always noticed that you have been very confused in life.” I get clarity in strife, I protest. Peace dulls my edges. The better half (male) says, “Of course you do it to harass me. Your sole aim in life.” I resign.
Following this periodic feedback, I try to settle into society’s rhythm yet again. I quiet down. I ease up. I turn down feisty. This mellowing down, being agreeable, settling into the rhythm of life dictated by the society kills my spirit. As I turn peaceful, demons possess me. In the nights my throat is always parched, my bladder is always full, my temples throb, and I toss and turn, head full of misery. The days go by in an envelope of hopelessness. A dark clammy quiet grows and settles around the heart.
I feel wretched in mellow. I go silent in the soul. I lose the will to live. I start ageing rapidly. Grays on my head grow in geometric progression. Crow’s feet branch out of my eyes. Tired smile lines look back at me from the mirror. Not that I choose to stay in this state for long. I crave for my familiar discontent. I bring it back. I nourish it. Teach it to gnaw at my heart. I get ready to toss out the faux calm for the sake of my sanity.
Then one morning I wake up and say loudly - I am immensely unhappy. I am dissatisfied. I say to myself. I say to whoever cares to listen. I glow. Angst, passion, strife, discontent, restlessness return. They illuminate everything around. Fuel my mind. I burn the fires of discontent within me. I live again.
I don’t know if I can call myself lucky, but I suffer from this wretched disease. Of persistent dissatisfaction. Of an inability to calm down, embrace peace and emotional stability. It may be a bearable affliction compared to many other illnesses, yet it plays havoc with the system. With age and maturing relationships, one needs to bring harmony in daily life, fit into the society (that we are condemned with) and settle down emotionally. Suppress restlessness. Tame the spirit. Buy peace (however expensive or damaging it may be). Angst looks good on you when you are a teenager. Or in your twenties. Anytime after that, it comes across as foolish, fatuous, faked.
But instead of taking inspiration, I look with trepidation at those dispassionate faces who have made their peace with life. Their restful looks and dull smiles of contentment throttle my spirit. Instead of the unbridled joy that turning calm is supposed to bring, it makes me terribly afraid. Afraid of a life akin to one in a mental facility. Sedated, calm, functioning like an assembly line. Your own life turned into a generic component.
Then I seek expert help. Best friend (woman) brushes it aside, .“Silly girl. Why can’t you like dailiness and peace? What else is there? Anyway you have never been the party-type” It’s a passion of the spirit, I argue, nothing to do with wanting to party. Best friend (male) says gravely, “I have always noticed that you have been very confused in life.” I get clarity in strife, I protest. Peace dulls my edges. The better half (male) says, “Of course you do it to harass me. Your sole aim in life.” I resign.
Following this periodic feedback, I try to settle into society’s rhythm yet again. I quiet down. I ease up. I turn down feisty. This mellowing down, being agreeable, settling into the rhythm of life dictated by the society kills my spirit. As I turn peaceful, demons possess me. In the nights my throat is always parched, my bladder is always full, my temples throb, and I toss and turn, head full of misery. The days go by in an envelope of hopelessness. A dark clammy quiet grows and settles around the heart.
I feel wretched in mellow. I go silent in the soul. I lose the will to live. I start ageing rapidly. Grays on my head grow in geometric progression. Crow’s feet branch out of my eyes. Tired smile lines look back at me from the mirror. Not that I choose to stay in this state for long. I crave for my familiar discontent. I bring it back. I nourish it. Teach it to gnaw at my heart. I get ready to toss out the faux calm for the sake of my sanity.
Then one morning I wake up and say loudly - I am immensely unhappy. I am dissatisfied. I say to myself. I say to whoever cares to listen. I glow. Angst, passion, strife, discontent, restlessness return. They illuminate everything around. Fuel my mind. I burn the fires of discontent within me. I live again.
Pleasure in Pain, I feel whole again :)
ReplyDeleteTo me each state reinforces the other and this sets up a vicious cycle. The struggle always is whether to live life by acquired or habitual nature. In most cases, we break habitual patterns of life and use acquired nature and believe we are happy even if we are in misery. The desire for stability or "the rhythm of life" is nothing but a desire to establish a continuity in order to hold on to life, knowing the fear of being vulnerable; not necessarily to live.
Thanks mate! What I struggled to say, you said in just a few words. The corollary is what some great man once said - 'It is not necessary to change. Survival is not mandatory.'
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