Thru the eyes of a lunatic

As I solve math problems with my friends in the tuitions, and sometimes mumble to myself, or hum some Metallica or Iron Maiden number, with hard to recreate style of singing and great guitar leads, I also hear my friends calling me mad, or rather crazy. I sit at home, now, listening to some Heavy metal, or Hard rock, nicely sprinkled with awesome Guitar leads and rifts, and swing my head to the music, my parents call me mad. To be precise, they, my friends and my parents, call me ‘Pagal’, Bengali for mad. Each time I ask myself-Am I really going crazy, am I already mad? I find now, 16^th October’2006, 2:30 AM, appropriate for giving some thought to the issue in question, as I am listening to some Dramatic Rock and heavy metal, and don’t feel like doing anything else.

The dictionary in defining mad, maddens and confuses, as it lists words, like disordered mind, insane, frenzied, wildly foolish, furious, passionate and many more, all, describing integral qualities of madness. I have seen people, driven crazy and furious at the usage of the word mad in describing them. But thinking of the reasons people call me mad for, and the things it could imply, I find mad not an unsuitable word to describe my state of mind, in general.

I don’t think I have a properly “ordered” mind, and neither do most other people, if order means everything being in the perfectly right places, like a defragmented hard drive, in a computer, where no single piece of information is cluttered or to be technically correct, fragmented. If that would be the case, no one would require keeping books full of facts, databases of anything and everything. The human beings would then have perfectly ordered minds, with ability to store and retrieve data, of any form, at will. Unfortunately, it is not the case and hence, not having a properly ordered mind, doesn’t seem to be an abnormal thing. I will deal with the second and third listings in the dictionary, insanity and frenzy, a bit later after putting some things into perspective. The fourth description is of being wildly foolish, which I am sure I or for that matter all the people in the world aren’t, because survival is one thing that doesn’t allow for foolishness. In the present world, which despises losers and foolishness, wild foolishness finds its existence only in essence. The fifth word, furious, to describe madness and me, doesn’t actually throw me out of the domain of humanity. Nowadays, everyone is angry, and if not always, then sometimes, but angry all the same. That leaves only the last of my selections, passionate, before I return to insanity and frenzy. I find no harm in being called a person of passion, because without passion no work reaches its destination, nothing gets completed. But, yes, I have had a serious case of nervousness, for which I have had to undergo diagnosis and consequent therapy, although during which I was never said to be affected by a serious case of mental disorder. And I care not to look too much into it. Maybe therein lies the flaw. Anyway, I would rather like to examine my actions that lead to the notions, I talked about. I listen to heavy music, which seemingly conveys great angst and hints of rebellion, mixed with violence. But, this throws open a greater question for all of us. If we can seemingly get angry and form pre conceived notions, in reaction to such small things as music laced with hint of angst, we need to open our windows and not only peek out, but take some time to look at the world and even stare at ourselves in the neighbour’s mirror, through the window. Have we become so inert so as to cry only when the fire licks us and not even look when the fire lashes someone else? How can we allow someone to blow the fire in someone else’s direction just for their convenience and take the dead’s things when we can all douse the fire with water of togetherness, that allows everything, everyone to be together, as same, with no up or down and that which can flow and occupy space, as one. Is it our going away from nature causing all this? Does nature all want us back to it and if it cannot take the green path will it take the red path to primitivity? The question cannot yet be answered, not in fullness, at least. However, we can all think about it, discuss it and maybe even get to peek at it, as it starts looming over us. In the meantime, I’m still me and I continue to exist. So, does it have any serious implications on me? I don’t know. Maybe I should listen to music at a lower volume. Maybe I should keep my tunes to myself. Or, maybe something else should change. Or, maybe not..

I don’t want to burden my mind anymore with any such questions. Neither does anyone have to. After all, where’s the time. Life’s moving at a real fast pace. We have to run or maybe even overrun it. But, we just gotta be careful that in this race we don’t trample on each other and end up not finishing the race at all. Maybe everyone requires a bit of compromising. But, will it ultimately wield results. Because as long as there isn’t any action, how can we know about the results. Calculations and theoies can go wrong. But, who cares. Till then, just enjoy the music.

Analysing death...

Crazy Chemistry

As I find no subject of any ‘great or grave interest’ to write on, I am going to write yet another self-centered piece. I hope that readers will pardon my ramblings on the subject, and not take any offence at anything that I may write. All the formalities completed, the tale starts…

I am attending my Chemistry tuition. As I sit on the sofa, waiting for the others to arrive and the start of the class, I find myself rather blank. Blank ‘in’ the head, that is, with my body covered by a really irritating layer of sticky perspiration. As I realize this, my mind is no longer blank. The machinery of my conscious mind slowly starts to rumble and grumble to a start, with thoughts on how hot it is becoming, day by day. Must be the bloody fan over my head, speaks my mind. Of course the mind’s still not started. How the hell can I reach a conclusion without even analyzing the situation? I realize this, and turn my head upwards to look at the fan. It’s working better and faster than my mind. I feel ashamed. Shame works on my mind better than my own will. The blood flowing to my brain starts being utilized better as my mind starts whirring and replaces the grumble. Of course it’s the humidity and the heat. This bloody summer’s supposed to be the worst- the daily temperatures are generally 2°C above normal and the rainless cloud cover is trapping all the humidity. I remember reading that in the newspapers the same morning. “That’s better”, I say to myself, rhetorically patting my own back for my brain’s ability at analysis. How foolish I am becoming, I realize later.

The bell rings, even though the door’s ajar. What courtesy and manners. I rise from my seat and widen the door-opening. It’s my friend, greeting me with a smile on a sleepy face. I feel better, realizing I’m not the only one. And, far better is the fact that he hadn’t actually realized the door was ajar and so, had rung the bell. Not fr*****g courtesy and manners. We start chatting, and I hope that this works up my brain to complete working condition. But, of course we don’t talk about anything related to studies, but remain on inane topics. Slowly everyone starts trooping in, breaking our conversation and finally putting an end to it as more or less all the students, except for a friend of mine, have arrived. The general murmur starts among everyone, whether anyone has studied anything or not of the previous class’ topics. Some say ‘nothing’, and some ‘something’. I’ve done ‘some things’, I say, though not memorized ‘anything’. My memory sucks. I’ve known this for long, with it having betrayed me a number of times, before. I didn’t know it was again going to betray me again. Anyway, I had done some ‘numericals’ and could do more, if tested. With this notion, class started.

Mam had entered the room. She is a brilliant teacher, a nice person and someone I greatly revere. I enquire whether some topics are in the syllabus and receive the answer. They are. D’Arvit! (that’s supposed to be an unspeakable swear word in the fairy world of Artemis Fowl), I exclaim, more things to study. Anyway, the class starts. But badly. Mam starts by asking questions on previous topics. I try to remember the definition, and in the meantime just tell her the formula involved. She specifically asks for the definition. I falter. Some keep quiet, some tell parts of it. I am silent, with my head hanging down with shame for not being able to answer the question and silent anger at myself, for another betrayal. Mam tells us, in a very soft voice that we’re not studying enough. She says we’ve got enough brains to pull through, but we’re not studying. Probably she’s right. “I am not studying”, says me inside of my head. I again listen. Mam speaks to make me see sense, tells me at least think about my future. I myself saw nothing but pitch black. No way out of this vacuum of darkness, no door of light. Nothing. The processes in my head start rewinding. Everything slows down. The class starts… but today I am not in it. I take down notes and nod my head as a sign of understanding, laying the onus for actual capture, later retrieval and understanding on my unconscious and books. But still I hear my brain whirring to work once again. This time things just come into my head. I bother to write some of them down. I wonder…

Death is the inevitable journey, the very thing that gives existence to life. No death, no life. The very essence of life is lost with the death of death. Life is like a sentence that is given its meaning by the very punctuation of death. As in a sentence, where the place of punctuation decides the meaning of the sentence; the meaning of life is decided by the event and place of death. The ‘drain’ of thoughts is troubling me and drowning me in its dirty water. The more I write, more is the extent of the staining of my hands and my mind with the dirty water. This water is dirty because it stops the light of education from reaching me and probably enlightening me. I stop here.

The class ends. So, it’s time to go. As I troop out with everyone and start walking down the road, hearing my friends taking to me and myself mumbling replies, I realize something. The sentence of life is given its meaning by the punctuation of death. But, probably if I write more before ending the sentence, I might leave something more to be understood, or probably less. Or I might just complicate it. But, the fact remains that I don’t know what will happen. So, in the meantime, I decide upon continuing writing. As I find an excuse (I don’t know if its even a lame one or a nice one) to delay the punctuation, I wonder is there anything like ‘the death of death’? I don’t yet have the answer and don’t know if I’m even suitable for the answer, if there is even one. But, yes I have posed a question, however incorrect it might be. I’m sure the quest for the answer has begun, if not here, then surely somewhere else. And, I have a thought that as long as I don’t get the answer, I will not know what happens after and hence will continue writing. But, surely I’ll have to go, as people have and people will. Or do they ever go? Or is it that the pen falls in mid-sentence and there is a displacement of the idea, just a displacement, not a complete stop, though by another hand (or maybe the same hand). Because we know that new energy and new matter can’t be created, but can only undergo inter-conversions.

Anyway, I’m starting to heed my teacher’s advice. ‘Coz if I need to continue writing, I need the ink to do so.

I think I have rambled too much, and should stop for today. Hope I haven’t bored anyone to death. And even if I have done, have I not helped in the quest? This question, I pose to the readers and expect an answer.

Till then, thanks for reading.