Story 8: She

I often ask myself, “Am I different? Am I unique? And, if so, how?”

I had a privileged upbringing, almost being entitled. Being a man you pretty much get away with lots of things, and rest, you are not aware of. Problem is, I am. As much as I try, I can never turn a blind eye to lots of things in life. Things that matter bother me, and I cannot express them. Plenty of reasons, primary being, no one gives a damn. And a few, very close few, who listen, can never fully comprehend what I feel or think. It’s frustrating to be misunderstood like this, and it’s even more frustrating to fail to tell the world what a freaking genius I am!

I wish I could tell them, but I don’t. Instead I leave bread crumbs for them. Let them do some hard work, follow the crumbs back home. Some take up the challenge unknowingly and often enthusiastically, only to be disappointed, as the jigsaw puzzle is too widespread and nothing fits together. Some are too scared to even attempt to undertake such an arduous task. People keep oscillating between two reactions – either they are in awe of me or are scared of me. A handful love me, but they have just spoilt me beyond repair. 

I keep asking where is that one person who can look me into my eyes and tell me for who I am.

That’s when I met her, precisely at a time when I had lost all the hope to ever find someone like her.

I was visiting a friend in Hyderabad. Actually, I had run away from my mechanical life back home and thought of taking a break in a new city. Somehow, I believed that what I needed was my own space to be who I am and to tell someone exactly the person that I am. It was this complex urge to be understood as well accepted for who I am without any judgment that was driving my thoughts. However, I wasn’t doing anything about it. I was just whiling away my time, lazing around at my friend’s apartment through the day.

After constant bickering from my friend, I left my comfortable nest, and finally decided to take a tour of the entire city like a novice tourist. I took a tour bus to travel around the city.

It was a weekday and the bus wasn’t too crowded. We were a handful of people. While I had boarded the bus from its emitting point at Somajiguda, others were boarding from different points. The bus got almost full by the time we reached Hi-Tech City. She was amongst the passengers who boarded the bus and took the sit beside mine.

She wasn’t a typical good looking girl, but had a charm of her own. She had a soft and kind face. Someone who is inviting and loving. Only when you get to know her, you would know that if I am a jigsaw puzzle made of million pieces, she is an onion that has almost equal number of layers!

As the bus started, the conductor and some of the passengers prayed loudly for a successful journey. She didn’t say anything, while I couldn’t help giving a dismissive smile. She caught me smiling. She smiled back at me and said, as if defending the others, “God is personal belief, you know, to each his own.” 

“Yes, but I am an atheist,” I said, not knowing why I said that.

She surprised me with her response. “Should that concern me?”

I wasn’t giving this up, and said, “Only if you are the religious types.”

She smiled and said, “What if I am?”

“Too bad, we could have been friends,” I teased.

She wasn’t giving up too, and asked, “So you make friends based on their belief in God?”

“Not really, it is just convenient to have friends who would not blame God for their miseries, for their inefficiencies and luckless lives,” I told her the truth.

Curious, she asked, “Are you a believer of karma then?”

“No, I just believe in myself. I only know myself,” I said confidently.

“Really, who are you?” she asked.

“That’s not hard to define. Besides the usual stuff that my resume states, I am someone who is completely focused on my goal – to build a log cabin high up on a lonely mountain,” I prattled thinking why was I telling that to her. 

“You don’t want to be disturbed, is it?” She wanted to know more.

“Yes, besides that’s the only way to move away from this din of human existence,” I said.

“Escaping from life or situations could never be an answer. Facing your own devil and overcoming your fears would make you happy even if you live in the most populated part of the world,” she reasoned.

“Easier for you to say, how would you know what an atheist faces? There is always a vacuum, questions that keep swirling up and the burden to owe up all the mistakes. There is no God to blame. You become the creator of your own future. It’s a hard life,” I responded.

“Fact is you chose it for yourself. So, why complain? Embrace what you are and have the courage to face it, to live your truest self. Like any other believer of God, you are also blaming God. Only thing, you are blaming God for your inability to believe in God!” she said with certain finality in her voice.

I knew I had found someone who has finally picked up certain pieces of my puzzles and correctly placed them together.

I smiled and said, “You are right, think we can become friends after all.”

She smiled back and started reading, “Only Love is Real” by Dr. Brian Weiss.

The bus halted at the Golconda Fort and we all get down to enjoy the majestic monument and the ruins. She joined a group of chatty girls while I loitered around. I really wanted to talk to her again. I had this strong urge to speak with her, to know her, to tell her about myself. I lost her briefly in the crowd and like a teenager was overjoyed to see her again as she almost bumped into me. This time, I couldn’t stop myself from flirting with her.

“Hey, we met again,” I said mischievously.

“The world is round my dear, the odds were pretty much in our favor.” She wasn’t less.

“Do you ever talk straight?” I asked.

“Always, even while walking a twisted path!” she said while walking on the stone carved uneven path that surrounded the central garden of the fort.

Laughing I said, “You never fail to amuse me.”

“That is why I am here, sir,” she said while bowing.

I continue to laugh and ask her arbitly, “So, what is today’s agenda?”

“Nothing in particular. Tell me, do you make mistakes?” she ask in an off-hand manner.

I respond, “Oh! Yes, plenty.”

She continues, “Do you learn from them?”

I respond again, unable to understand where it was leading to, “Yeah, sometimes.”

She finishes my line saying, “And at other times you prefer to ignore the learning, right?”

“Are you following me? Stalking me, to know so much about me?” I ask her with a wicked smile.

She laughs and yet says, “Stop flirting with me dear, I am beyond your charms.”

Raising an eyebrow I counter, “Really and that is why you cannot keep your views to yourself?”

“Aha! There’s a point there, but well, so you in a hedonistic way like to repeat your mistakes, often for the pleasure of it, and often because you are too lazy to change or do anything else and sometimes just because you were getting bored,” she prattles on as if she just read me off my biography!

Amused, I ask her, “Are you a witch by any chance?”

“I could be if it helps in any way, which I doubt would…I might become Medusa if you so care,” she said slyly.

“You sure have a wicked sense of humor girl,” I said admiringly, and without suppressing my curiosity ask her, “You are spot on about this mistake thing. How do you know about it and what about it?”

She responds, “It is not important how I know, I know. Thing is each mistake that we make sets us back in our life by some measurable human time, which would mean taking the trouble to reach up to certain juncture all over again, wasting again some measurable human time. Do you think you are up for it?”

“I love my freedom. I like to do what I want to, even if it is a mistake,” I defend myself.

“There is a certain pride in being headstrong, you keep proving to yourself that it has been your decision and you are sticking to it, no matter how much that decision is reeking at that moment,” she counters.

“Nobody dared to bare it for me like this before,” I said with a twinkle in my eyes.

Gaining her balance again after initial discomposure, she said, “You please keep your thieving ways to yourself, and do not digress from the main topic.”

“Are you always this cloistered?” I ask her.

“I am taking that as a compliment. Now, can we move on?” she says.

“Do I really not make any impact on you?” I persist.

“I would rather pass that question for now. So, what’s up with you?” she digresses.

“You tell me, you seem to know everything about me.” I pass the ball onto her court.

“If I had figured it out, I wouldn’t have been asking you, right?” she asks, puzzled.

“Ok, let me give you a general idea, I am testing you,” I tell her teasingly.

“Testing me, for...?” she asks, confused.

“That’s the general idea, go figure it out for yourself Ms Know It All,” I smirk and leave her wondering.

I took a stroll of the entire fort and kept thinking about her. I didn’t even know her name, who she was, nothing and yet, she felt so known. What caught me were her eyes. They had some deep knowing. They felt familiar. Gosh, she felt familiar, yet, I can’t figure her out. For the first time, I have met a girl I just couldn’t read. She was different.

She was still standing where I had last left her. I strolled by and stared at her. Finally, I decided to tease her again, “You still here?”

“Why did you come back?” she asked instead.

“Normally people respond to a question not question a question…you know what I mean.” I tried to explain my convoluted statement.

“Yes, though it sounded exactly like you,” she said.

“And what does that mean?” I asked.

“Expressing something simple in a convoluted and complex manner,” she said without missing a beat.

“Oh! That, so did you figure it out?” I was not going to be beaten!

“Nope, I am as clueless as you last left me. See, I am still here, stuck and have no idea how to make head or tail of the situation,” she said, with genuine confusion in her voice.

“Even my generic idea did not help you, that’s sad,” I said, barely trying to hide my huge grin.

“I don’t like it,” she said, frustrated.

“What, the fact that someone is smarter than you, who could see through you and understand you like the back of his hand?” I was finally understanding her too.

“Yes that too, and also this element of unknown, the expectancy, it may be good or bad, but this continued mystery,” she said without realizing that she was finally opening up.

“Tell me, don’t you like surprises?” I pursued.

“I love them,” she said emphatically, yet, there was still frustration in her voice.

“Have you ever been surprised in your life? Has anybody ever been able to surprise you?” I now knew what to ask her.

“That’s the saddest part, no, as much as I love surprises, no one has ever been able to surprise me. I just know what's brewing. It’s boring you know,” she said, truthfully.

“So why are you cribbing now, enjoy this mystery. You never know there might be a surprise at the end of it,” I said, clearly enjoying her dilemma.

“Yeah right, surprise from a person who is scared of me,” she said, clearly throwing me off-balance.

“Excuse me, I am not scared of you,” I said with a hint of mock threat in my voice.

“Really!” She said with an equal mock threat in her voice. We both stared at each other, daring each other. The impasse lasted for a few seconds.

Finally, she said, “You know, it’s of no use, we both know how obstinate we are. This can just go on and on till eternity.”

I ask her, “Why don’t you give up?”

Looking straight into my eyes, she says, “Sorry for asking a question for a question again, do you want me to?”

She waves at me smiling as she leaves me wondering this time.

At that moment, I feel as if my life is being disintegrated, as if there is a need to deconstruct and rebuild myself. I was scared, yet happy. It was a strange and weird feeling, and somehow, I knew that she felt the same too. Something was changing at that moment and neither of us could stop that chain reaction now.

I saw her boarding the bus and followed her. She had taken the window seat now, and I took the aisle seat.

As if reading my emotions and vulnerability on my face, she said, “I know how you are feeling right now, scared, agitated, restless et al. It feels as if the life you have so far guided and controlled is no longer yours to control. As if, so far everything was a myth, nothing had any sense in it.”

“How do you know?” I blurted.

“I know because I have gone through it. I know exactly how it feels when your carefully guarded life just falls apart. When all that you had so far thought was true turns out to be your conception of truth. You start seeing new things, learning about something different, something you never thought existed or even if someone did mention, you scoffed at them. When you reach such a stage you start doubting, questioning, every damn possible theory that comes in front of you,” she said, while trying hard to hide her own feelings.

“Yes, you are right. Sometimes I feel off-balance and all I could do at that time is to run away from the situation. I do not want to face it. Does that happen? Did it happen to you ever?” I wanted to know.

“Even before I answer that, let me ask you something, something very generic, what do you think about love?” She surprised me with her question.

However, I was ready with a response. “Aha! The most difficult question ever asked I believe. It is tough to explain but let me try. Well, love is a feeling which makes you do anything or everything for someone, be it your beloved, mother, father, kids. It is a thread that binds, a beautiful feeling, which makes life worth living...”

Cutting me through she said, “Stop, that’s enough. You see, you are just like others and trying your level best to define something that is unexplainable. We have these set parameters on which we define things, and so it is based on your perception or should I say desire, you have defined love that means for you, but mind you, it is by no means the general definition of love. Each individual brings in his experience and opinion whenever he or she is asked to give a meaning of something.”

She was clearly frustrated at my clichéd explanation. So I asked, “Do you know what love is?”

She becomes stoic and says, “As I had already told you, love is unexplainable. Think I need to take another approach to this. We are all brought up with pre-conceived notions about things, even love. We want love to be this, and that. It has a certain definition, boundary, anything beyond that becomes difficult for us to comprehend. Do you agree?”

Intrigued, I comply, “Yes, completely. Go on.”

She continues, “So, when you encounter something that is not ‘normal’, which is beyond your boundaries, beyond the set rules of how it should be, how would you react?”

I respond in a fact-of-the-matter manner, “I would retreat, recoil. I would not believe it to be true.”

She persists, “And if someone keeps imposing it on you, keep telling you that it is true, to ask you to believe, what will you do and why?”

“I will run, just run away from the situation. Why? Simply, because it would be too overwhelming for me to believe and hey, belief cannot be generated, it comes from within. But, then that’s not the real reason, maybe somewhere down the line I do believe, I do want to explore, but the situation may become overpowering. It may try to cut my basic life-giving air and for survival I would run.” I give her my flight response.

She says, “Exactly. Now, let me ask you something else. Is it helping you?”

I pretend to be naïve and ask her, “What do you mean?”

She says, “Is this entire running thing helping you?” She dares me to respond to that.

I don’t give up and say, “Well, not exactly but I feel much better and often relaxed. I try to keep myself busy, try not to think anything, divert my mind, but frankly sometimes when I am alone, everything comes rushing to me. In those moments, try as I may avoid, I cannot stop myself from being depressed, from searching for truth, from questioning the veil.”

She counters, “Then why run, why don’t you quit?”

“Quit and do what, I don’t want to become crazy, insane.” I voice my concern.

“Human convictions again, anything out of boundaries are defined as crazy, insane. So, what I can understand about you is that you are basically afraid of yourself, of unlocking the hidden you, of questioning the unknown,” she tries to explain.

I counter, “No, I am never afraid of anything. I have always been someone who questioned beliefs, status quos. I never accept things as it is.”

Quizzed, she asks, “Then what is it?”

Hesitating, I tell her, “Well, it’s just that I want to lead a normal life, I don’t want anything special. I don’t want to be different. I don’t want to walk down that path which is staring at me, a path I know that is full of wonder, but also a path that would shake my basic foundation. I don’t know, I don’t feel I want to do it.”

“Is that all?” She asks smiling

“What makes you think that this is not all?” I get a bit aggressive

She still remains composed and says, “Your aggression strengthened my belief. There is something else you are scared of, something that is freaking you out completely. Something which you know is not termed ‘normal’ in the regular course of the day. You feel it, see it as it grows each day. You try to compress it, often ignore it, but nothing really helps. And you know why, because it is not something outside you, it is in you. Actually, it is you, the real you.”

Shocked, I ask her, “What should I do, what did you do?”

She said, “It does not really matter what I did, because your journey would be different from mine. But think the general outlook would be pretty much the same. I went into denial too, and then slowly and steadily started accepting things, and with acceptance came questions, and I tried desperately to find some answers. It is not easy to often find answers to such questions, but you would be amazed that as soon as you are ready to believe that these questions are real and they would have answers, you would start getting answers, through books, Internet and most importantly, from people. Some people you would just bump into, some you have known for years but never bothered to ask them and some would direct you to the right ones. You just have to ask, the answer would be presented.”

Somewhat convinced I try to get a confirmation, “Ok, that does not seem difficult, is it?”

She says, “Not much, just that once you start getting answers, each answer would have ten different questions and you would grow restless with each unanswered question.”

Back to being confused again, I ask her, “What to do then?”

As if awaiting for that question, she says, “That is when you start looking within yourself, you start asking those questions to yourself and the answers again would be presented.”

“And then what should one do?” I asked her.

“That I will tell you after I take a tour of the Charminar and buy some nice pearls,” she said with a half-smile and twinkle in her eyes.

I hounded her around the old city. I wanted to talk to her desperately, but she was busy chatting with others to have another heart-to-heart conversation. Next, she went to one of the jewelry shops and tried some pearl sets.

I couldn’t help but compliment her. “Hey, you look great.”

“Thanks, I am thinking of buying them. What do you think?” she asked.

“They are nice, suits you,” I tell her and in the same breath say, “By the way, I have decided to quit running and learn more about what you were saying.”

She was thrown off-balance and that was exactly what I intended to do. Regaining her composure, she says, “But, you still look confused.”

“What else do you expect? I don’t know where to start. I don’t know whom to trust, what to believe,” I said truthfully.

She said, “Don’t believe anyone, just believe yourself. Listen what others say, read, but believe what you think is right. You will see that in all that bullshit too, certain things would resonate with you, some information you will be able to associate with. It would feel as if you already knew about them, reading them just confirmed what it had been.”

Not convinced, I ask her, “Does that really happen?”

She says, “Think yes it does, it happened with me. It’s bit of strange, most of the time I had gone through some experience, tried to make head or tail out of it, and then moved on, accepting it and then some time later I read about it. The information just comes by and I have that eureka moment of knowing in theory what I experienced. It’s like studying science in reverse, you do the practical first and then learn the theory. You would believe what would resonate with you, there is no choice there. Your face would instantly lit up when you would know about something that would pull a string within. That happens because you already knew about it, it’s like boosting your memory and trying to help you remember.”

“I won’t deny, a couple of times I did feel it, but…” I trail off.

“But, it felt crazy enough to believe it right,” she says as if reading my thoughts.

“Yes!” I say.

“Let me tell you something else, just knowing is not enough. You may feel it to be true too and somewhere within you would want to know more about it, but the idea is so fantastical that you don’t want to pursue it,” she says.

I could resonate with her and say, “Exactly the feeling.”

“Don’t worry that you can overcome. Once the seed of an idea has been placed, it would grow into a tree of belief and following. There is just one thing you would need to let go off,” she says convincingly.

“What?” I ask her.

Looking into my eyes, she says, “Your ego.”

I get defensive and say, “I am not an egoist. I don’t think I have an ego to fight with. I always help others, put their goodwill before mine and never get jealous of others success. How could you say I have ego?”

She smiles as she says, “There, there you go again. Human convictions and definitions. Who said, only this and that covers ego. Ego is anything that halts your progress, your growth to be a better person, to know yourself. Our age old beliefs, social orders and even our self-created principles and values all result into creating this superstructure of ego, behind which we hide ourselves. And let me tell you, this is the hardest part of all, to understand your ego and then to let it go.”

Skeptical I voice my concern, “I am still not convinced.”

She continues, “I cannot convince you too. This you need to feel and understand, it has to come from within. No one can make you see your ego, because it is within you. Only you can identify it and take it out of your system.”

“It sounds scary.” I tell her.

She says, “It is, but then who said that knowing the truth is easy. Our egos guard us from the external world, they help us survive. Taking out your ego means dropping all your defenses and making yourself vulnerable and our survival instincts would never let us do that. It is a hard struggle.”

“Have you been able to overcome your ego?” I had to ask her.

She get contemplative and says, “No, it’s not that easy, but yes, these days at least I am able to identify my ego, the moment it pops up and then it becomes easy to choose. Oh! Yes, the choice would be yours, whether you want to suppress it or want to go with its vanity.”

“The eternal theory of choice, where does that come from? When we know everything, when all that is happening is that we are remembering things, then where does this choice comes from?” I ask her.

She says, “Choice is what makes us human. It’s our free will. We may choose to do whatever we want to. The choice would always remain with us. You need to learn to respect free will. It is not enough to say that I have the choice to do whatever I want to, but you also got to understand that just like you, someone else also has the free will to do whatever he or she wants to. This is important as it is the only thin line between your turning bad or good. You must have heard of the phrase, ‘power corrupts’. You will realize that once you accept the power, you will be able to do almost anything, but at that point remember do not interfere with anyone’s free will, do not decide for them. Let them do what they want to.”

Now, I get contemplative and say, “You know, I need some time to think about all these.”

Smiling she says, “That is your choice.”

“Thank you so much,” I tell her genuinely.

“No, thank you. All these helped me to analyze myself yet again,” she says surprising me yet again.