DONT'T WAKE ME UP. I'M UP ALREADY.

I wish I was confused. I really do. Because confusion means that I have more than one idea in mind. But I have none. Then what am I? blank. And that is worse than confusion.

The only thing everyone suddenly seems to be asking is "Now What?" To that, the only reply that is most honest is what I can never sound. It asks in turn, "Why Now?"

For the last four years I have been trying to find or rather make a pattern of life. Its not an easy job. And the moment i gain sense enough to start, someone or something comes along to say,"Its over. Move on." People and all things which have an equal potential to annoy and question say that I have to decide and that too now. But how now? Decision is out of the question, how to get THERE is out of the question when the THERE is something you cannot see. Or rather the THERE is something no one wants to see.

Since the last time I made a decision, I have spent two years to find its validation. I know it is valid because lots of people agree it is. They talk about the benefits, the exposure, the learning, the tag name. But these do not seem enough. Invariably I look for the something beyond. Something beyond the brain, that seems right to the heart, if not the soul. And there is none.

Then I see a scene repeating itself over and over in my head...a six year old girl lying on the bed in a pretty white frock, her long curly tresses spread on both sides. Her father comes looking for her and lies down besides her.

He says: What are you doing here?
She says: I don't want to go there. They are so noisy. Everyone asks the same questions again and again and they keep asking about my dress and who made it.
He says: But its your birthday party. You should be there.
She says:Its not like they want to talk to me anyway.just each other.
He says:I think its time we stop throwing birthday parties for you when you do not like crowds. Anyway, if you keep away like this they will not want to come. It may not seem like it, but they make an effort to come and they will not if you are rude.
She says:ok.
He says: But you do realise you will not get any more presents.
She looks at the pile of pretty bright gifts and now they seem so much prettier.
She says:I'll go.
They hold hands and walk out.
He says: When people are nice to you, you should do the same. When it seems hard, you should try even harder. Because thats what good people do. That is how they remain good.
She says : hmmm.
He says: Which present have you liked best so far? Your dress?
She says: no. These two orange rose buds ma made as rubber bands for my hair.
He says: Why?
She says: they are pretty. And they are small so people can't see them easily. And so they don't keep asking about it.

Its not imagined. That is a memory. a very real one. more real then most of today.That is how easy right and wrong was. Or rather that is how easy he made it seem. I wonder what he would say now.

Almost all people I know are ambitious. they want and work for the good life. I tried to be too. But I'm not. The good life for me is not a nice house. Its not a lot of money. And my destination is not where I will get these things from.The only thing I do is write. I cannot afford to make it the only thing I do.But I cannot afford to make it that other thing I do or used to do even more. This is what I want. I should feel guilty for wanting it. I try not to want it too. But its the only thing that I really do.

Then I see another scene of the same people. The two are are standing in a balcony looking out over a big city.
She says: there are so many lights. It looks endless. Don't you think it looks pretty?
He says: Maybe. But I don't see what is so nice about it. Its a little different from the view from the terrace back home. But I don't see what is the better thing about it.
She says: Its new. Its different.
He says:Its new for now. Different for now. It wont always be. I just don't see what is so fascinating about these places. It's hardly been 3 weeks and I cannot wait to go home. I don't like big places and endless lights. And that is perfectly alright.
Whenever I see this, I don't feel guilty about wanting what I want. Or the sheer difficulty of it. Because he had wanted it too. And for me, this whole world can be mistaken. not him.
I see that girl again, in a small house, of perhaps smaller rooms still. I dont see a husband or any other sign of marital bliss. because they needn't happen for everybody. But its home because that's where all her memories are. All his memories are. And that is where she knows his soul is, and the soul that they had shared is.
This is not a memory. This is the desired end of it all. this state is not easy to achieve. And even if achieved, is not deemed a successful life, infact its the opposite. But who defines what a successful life is? The one whose life it is. This is what I want. And save the "be practical" part. its never going to convince me. Because I had been convinced of the other thing long ago. And now I know, like just what he said, "Its perfectly alright".