May be I'm addicted...

The word addiction has been revolving in my mind for some time now. I have been trying to get over mine since last year and am yet to succeed. The thing is there is this one question that has been nagging me and stopping me from succeeding. Do we ever get over the word “addicted”?

I believe all humans are addicts, obsessed over… God knows! Can be anything… I am addicted to fictional books like a druggist might be to opiates. I devour books like a hungry man would eat delicious food after 2 days of fasting. Last week I borrowed four books and I felt like I became rich and have reached the top of the world.

People who know me might have already begun enumerating reasons why I should get over the addiction. For the benefit of others, I’ll jot down the reasons why I have to let go of such a good habit. The thing is when I get a novel to read, which consumes almost all out of office hours of my day, I get so engrossed in it that I hardly notice anything else. I don’t respond to any stimuli properly, as a normal human should. And another of my characteristics, I can revisit some books too many times, so many times that people who see me reading feel like throwing the book away from my hand. After all anything in excess is bad. So I should get over my addiction.

And that takes me to the next question, what do I do of all the free time I’ll have when I stop reading books? I’ll have to find something else to occupy my time and my brain cells. I have been searching for that something from over a year now and haven’t been able to fix to anything specific which brings me back to the initial question.

Do we ever get over the word “addicted,” because I’m just trying to find something else to occupy my time, something to replace my initial addiction? Doesn’t it happen to everyone who is addicted? A workaholic finds something else to occupy their time, smokers find chewing gum, alcoholics find lighter beverages and so on, until a time comes when they don’t recognize themselves anymore and become suicidal. Yes, I believe at one point of time in our lives, we all become suicidal. Most people find reasons to continue living; some, unfortunate or otherwise I wouldn’t know, don’t and take their lives. And no, I’ll not take my life if I am forced to live without books. I’ll just not let others know I’m still reading! J 

But the point to ponder remains, why do we have to let go of things we like, only to search for second bests? Just to keep ourselves in moderation and not become attached to something we live for in some senses? I know the obvious answer, because they are harmful to our lives. Yet again aren’t the addictions what comprises most of our lives. Wouldn’t trying to rehabilitate be trying to live with something less than our true selves? I think so it is and that is the reason I still am unsuccessful in my endeavor to stay away from my beloved books. Let me know your thoughts. 

Revenge, O sweet revenge!

The other day travelling to home from work, a heavy branch fell upon our bus. My colleague remarked “I feel this is the revenge of trees. We wreak havoc to their world. They are trying to find a way to distort ours.” Two days later reading Amitav Ghosh’s “The Glass Palace” I came upon a paragraph where a rubber plantation owner explains to an educated and accomplished lady about resistance. “All these rubber plants are grown from a clone of seeds. They look exactly alike, need exactly the same nourishment, yield exactly the same amount of latex every morning. Yet there is one tree among them which refuses to provide its latex to us. Let scientists get into the detail of its genes to find out what is wrong with the tree, I simply believe this tree is resisting our efforts.”

Consider for one moment if the trees could feel and talk as Greek mythology and the Chronicles of Narnia lead us to fantasize. I can imagine all the trees in the world uniting in a unanimous mission of destroying the human race by now. I, for the love of god, cannot presume a king and queen of trees, but I can sure see the battle raging on. If I were to provide a live commentary, it would run like this.

In the backyard, the neem tree seeing three intruders in its territory, decides to shake itself vigorously so that none of the men can catch hold of one single leaf on its body. Sadly it recognizes the denuding it is causing itself. Gosh! Most of the beautiful leaves fell as if the autumn arrived without warning. Arrested in thought for a few seconds, it decides to shower the men with its alkaloids. How they would hate the taste on their lips and hands. Good for them.

The Mango tree got the whiff of the commotion as the birds stopped singing to it and left in a panic afraid of the Neem tree’s antics. Thirsty from their battle with the Neem tree when the humans come to the Mango tree, it decides to benevolently provide them with its fruit. (After all, it was sleeping at the time the battle started lulled by the Mynahs and Koels). As soon as they come near, one human picks a stone and aims its branch for its fruit. The Mango tree insulted thus, release all its fruits so that they attracted by gravity fall onto the ground hitting the humans in the process. Hit and thoroughly battered, they still try to make the best of the situation, pick a mango each, and start eating. No sooner that they put the mango in their mouth, they taste bitter alkaloid more on their lips than the sweet juice of the mango.

Defeated the humans turn to the safety of their house. But the front yard Peepul tree has decided to battle in stealth. Knowing its strength to grow in the crevices of houses, it decides to transport its seeds to every corner possible of the house while instructing the neophyte to root near the walls, infiltrate the wall with root hairs causing the walls to crack and eventually crumble. The prodigies have decided to follow the instructions to the letter. After all they have to avenge the death of their aunt by the hands of these humans. Few minutes after entering the house, the house crumbles all around them surrounding them in a cloud of dust.

On the other side of the house, the legumes are still perfecting their strategy. They have hit upon a technique of reducing the protein content in their seeds. Their scientists after careful examining has finally allowed them to process the extra nitrogen from amino acids back to nitrates while storing them in the seeds. The scientists booming with laughter is claiming that humans will not be able to consume them anymore. Ha ha ha….

Oh no! This can’t be true. This is certainly not happening. The flowering plants have detected my presence and they seem to think I am laughing at their efforts to eradicate human race… Achooo… Achoooon…… they have also joined the battle. Achhhhhooooooooooo…... They are doing their work splendidly. Aaaaaaaachoooooooooooo…… Aaaaaa…. POLLENS… chhhoooooooooo……….. Aaaaachooooon………. Aaha ahah….ahahahahahahah…. Aachchchcoooooooooooooooon………….. The trrreees… Aaahchoon…….. ha. ha. have …. Ahahahahah…. Won the ….. aaaaachooon…sniff….. BATTLe…. Sniff… Aaaachoooon…. Sniff….. achooooooooooooon….aaaaaaaaaaaaaachoooooooooooooooooooooooooo………………… dham... thump.. thummmmmmmmmm.

Happy Endings!!!

Ending. It’s the most awaited part of just anything in life except perhaps of life. I have heard people say that they are waiting eagerly for a new beginning. In my opinion, it’s just the optimistic way of telling I am eagerly waiting for an ending which will allow me to make a new beginning. May be I am a pessimist, but I have a view point here. About ending.

Every romantic story has a happy ending “And they lived happily ever after.” All thrillers, adventurous stories and even for that sake the science fictions conclude with all situations set right, the criminal punished, the victim avenged and the world saved. I cannot fathom whether it is a human mindset or is it scientifically proven somewhere that situations with happy ending are appropriate conclusions, only when All Is Well can the curtains drop.

It is not just fiction that I am talking about. In real life too, at a funeral everyone praises the departed even if during their lifetime, they were detested. Somehow at the end of a man’s life, when he can no more hear the words, his friends, relatives, colleagues and acquaintances, all seem to accept the man as he was, as if before allowing the soul to leave them forever, they wish to make peace with it. A happy ending for the man’s life even if it is a tough beginning for the loved ones left behind.

And until and unless everything is sorted out in a tight fix, the fix seems to hold on. Without the clichéd happy ending, there is always scope for the story to continue. The next generation to pick up the threads, new maladies with the same monster, a fight turning to war.

So I have reached a conclusion that if a good riddance is what we are looking for, then we should end it happily, wholeheartedly. It is the best means to protect you from meeting it again in a corner unguardedly. Ironic isn’t it? You want to get away from a work, a person, a house and you have to go away declaring peace and happiness.

But if this is the way it’s going to work, then I am game for it. And so I say Good Bye. Good Bye to anger, Good Bye to frustration, Good Bye to weepy nights, Good Bye to dreams unfulfilled, Good bye to passions not fueled, Good bye to heartbreaks and Good bye to headaches. I had a good time with all of you. You helped me accomplish many a tasks, gave me the strength to get going when I wanted nothing more than to stop, and gave me company when no one else was around. Even if you were great friends, I have to say Good Bye, for either I don’t love you, or you don’t love me, and no relationship can continue without love. Let us depart as friends today and when we meet again let us meet as passing acquaintances with a smile on the lips and nothing more.

With this, let the curtains drop for all of you just witnessed a happy ending, “And they lived happily ever after without each other.”