Real Virtuality

Incident dates back to some 7-8 years. I am lying in the bed so thirsty it hurts my throat. I try to summon the will to stand up, but the legs that aren’t there are not going to follow your wish. I curse myself for forgetting where I have kept my crutches. I am on the verge of calling out to the roomie to bring me a glass of water when the sudden shock strikes me. I remember that I can walk. It was the protagonist of the novel I just finished who couldn’t.

Even after such a long time reminder of that incident gives me goose-bumps. Was it the skill of the novelist? Was it my involvement in the book? Or does it have something to do with my misplaced priorities in life?

If I look in the rear view mirror, my life has been like a long series of case studies of fictitious characters rather than an experiment in itself. It is a hard confession to put on paper and I am fighting a strong urge to delete last some sentences. It basically challenges my way of life.

I think that most people treat life like it’s a racing track. Most thinkers talk about achieving something (spiritual, material, emotional whatever that something maybe) at the end of the life. As if life in itself is just a mean to achieve that end. I believe the life is the end in itself. To me, it’s not about reaching any end, winning the 1st or 4,558,495th prize. It’s about enjoying the morning breeze, relishing the punishing sun of the afternoon and welcoming the dusk with one favorite song or five.

There might not be much coherence to whatever I have said till now, but I promise it sounded so coherent in my mind.

Now that the traffic jam is over and the car is moving, I will stop. There’s a wonderful song being played on the radio and that needs more attention than my analysis of life.