Obituary and Legacy thoughts

The spectrum of life comes to a halt because of an incomplete transaction that led to remorse and death from inside. Anti-establishment and pure minimalism streak, not much can be accomplished or built in this attitude as your thinking of a solitary reaper who’s bringing nothing but value upon himself and no one else. Selfish endeavors bring upon a change of action, a twist in faith. The past has been about building a structure that will surpass generations to come but now its about me-me-me. Whats it about all this that is to say about establishments, its a daft dream, an artifice.

End of the day, its about the Obituary statement – I, Vaibhav Nahar, pass away on the day of 2067 in peace. I am grateful for the people who have been with me through the ins and outs and especially my wife who has loved me for who I am, the best and the worst of me , and at all times. I am happy to pass away and take the steps to heaven forsaken knowing that I have accomplished my endeavor of writing my memoirs and my journals while being on this earth. I have been instrumental in giving birth to this great race and have passed away my time without raising a concern in the people who walk this earth that a subject of their creator is in their midst. My creator gave me the role of the writer and told me that I will lead the people through my words during my time. I have written glorious words when I have been alive and I hope that they stay alive for generations even after I am gone.

I have to understand how to save my words even after there is a complete wipe-out of this earth. Shall I transmit the words to space and some other planet so there is a seedling of remembrance even after we’re all gone. I’ll have to leave a trail behind so that one can trace them back again.

Legacy is more important than establishment. My legacy will survive even after I am dead for generations and generations.

Death of a Writer!

In the drafty night, an uncomfortable silence looms while everyone is snoring in their oblivion. A shadow emerges and the tip of the shadow’s outline is visible in the distance. As he creeps into the room, a coldness is felt. However, the spirits taken in the evening proved to be much more absorbing than the draft of icy wind. He mistook the draft for a mild sensation and waived it off in his drunken negligence. Before he could engross himself in his journal of poems, before he could get the nip of the pen to touch the writhing piece of paper, the sharp tip of the shadow swiftly thrusts into his back like cutting through a ripe watermelon. His first kill, so his movement was rustic, but it didn’t leave him unnerved as his grip was strong, as strong as his intentions to go ahead with the evening’s agenda. The deathly virgin puncture left a splatter of blood on the wall and droplets coming on the knife’s grip as he firmly holds it against his body, making sure that he ends his chapter tonight.

He usually goes in his frivolous yapping on paper with his favorite whisky, which now finds itself mixed with his blood. He held the glass tightly trying to fight through the pain but eventually gave in to the shock of it all and finally tipped the glass to the floor. Shattering the silence of the night with the breaking of the glass, it hardly raised any suspicion as the moon was high and the nip in the air made sure that people snuck in their blankets early.

He lived alone, the neighbourhood was alien like for the bachelor surrounded by ‘hum do humare do’ households. His presence was usually abhorred my the neighbours with his frequent gallivanting with young people visiting him in the late hours, his interest in drowning himself with cheap liquor now and then, his incessant consumption of cigarettes and a general unkempt way of living. A true bachelor way of living, but the years had caught on him and his bachelor life eventually transformed into a aloof-like lifestyle, developing a strong sense of individuality and independence rather than matching up with his hum do humare do compatriots. His life meant going to the university, enjoying a drink in the evening with his compadres, and when they used to leave for their kids and family, he would come back to his abode switch on the transistor, jump to his favorite channel, fix himself a drink and engross into a poetic self with a pen and a paper writing that classic piece of wisdom he felt would be his gift to his kin.

His task was done for the night, he gathers himself with his slicing tool and makes his way through the creaky door, he throws his shawl over his head making sure that no one can see his face and briskly makes his way through the nippy wintery night. The street light beaming yellow makes only visible traces of the blood splatter while the morning light waits for the blood bath to show itself and open a homicidal case in a sleepy neighbourhood which will change the neighbourhood forever.

The evening was anything out of the ordinary, he went about his daily routine. The morning started from the bathroom with the general ablutions of the day. He makes his own breakfast but usually frequents this parantha wala stall right outside when the day is supposed to be hectic and he needed to conserve his energy. Making breakfast was a tedious task but he got the hang of taking care of himself. The bai would come on her own time making sure that she misses him, deftly missing out on his household requests which she is capable of taking up being a soft hearted woman. She felt compassion for him but she didn’t want to be involved too much to raise eyebrows. Her husband didn’t approve of her working there but their family needed the money.

As he made his way to the university, he always felt a calmness before he enetered and a general whiff of reminiscence that he’s back to the old days when things were much more calmer and fun was a general way of life. It wiped off as soon as a student passed by with condescension in his eyes and it all came back to him. A time left 19 years ago and counting and its not going to come back for him. He should have just eloped abroad and sought a life different from being in the motherland of all Indians, because he isnt really appreciated here and neither he has gained anything from the land. Had he the spine to save rather than giving up on wordly possessions and fun, he may have had a better life to live which was enriching and comfortable. Now he is carrying books and going to vomit what he’s learned from lazy fucks who have vomited on the text books themselves and narrate a story around it to make them feel important about themselves. His general rounds in the hallways always got him back to his golden days in college but alas it was in the past.

Neville was fond of him and would be inquisitive about his subject of study and would generally have a good conversation with him.”Goodmorning Sir!”, Neville said.”Goodmorning. Neville, how can I help you?”, “Sir, I am trying to understand how we can structure the story around this topic, do you think you can sit with me for sometime?”

Immaterial materialism

Materialistic means and possession of items means more than owning a life. Are we just going towards a lifestyle of possession of objects that would define our lifestyle and our stature in life? When my family and my near and dear ones come to me to tell about their recent purchases, with a feeling of stature and dominance, Im not so sure how to react to a conversation of the sorts. One thing that does pinch me in this whole scenario when  the act is on,  that I am not able to spend acquiring these items of splendour and vanity. Whether its a UHD television or whether its a new coffee machine or vacuum cleaner, I know that I have kept her devoid of such things, but knowing how she is and where she comes from, she pains from the inside and keeps it calm on the outside. I know that. It pinches me so much that I flinch.

I vowed to create and make my creations my worth. What can I create that could be worth so much that it pays for all the vanity in the world. Even tonight when I will meet my friends, I know it’ll be the same. It’ll be the same all over again, a system of acquisition and purchases that defines the person and his stature. I’m not quite sure that was taught to me by anyone, neither my dad or his dad before him, but they do practice this day-in and out and have learnt to accept that immaterial materialism.

I as a person am not able to deal with it. I cannot deal with a lifestyle driven by purchases and acquisition. The question that I ask myself is that once sometime in the future if I am in a position to make these purchases, will I too become one of these people?

I never have had the chance to become a materialistic person, infact the materialism is what never really kept intact the family that I always yearned for. All the money in the world and nothing to bind it together.

Is the answer to this education? If we had pursued education rather than opening new businesses ventures in the gleaming light of making mega bucks, would my problem of today have been ?

Another aspect would be that of travelling, would it broaden my horizons and solved my problems.

I am both, not too much but not too less either, then I am still plagued with the issue of immaterial materialism. The dilemma remains….

 

 

Naseeruddin Shah admiration

An excellent, tasteful and beautiful movie. Gone are the days when movies were storytelling and less instagram goals. Going back to those meaningful days with a classy and natural verve of acting by an actor had I known to be so good, I would’ve worshipped him, and maybe now I will. Natural, classy, tasteful and meaningful in every action and word that he says, Naseeruddin Shah is someone I hadn’t known to be an actor class unparelleled to what I have seen him, in this classy and Indian-esque movie. Playing an eccentric nomad with dope cooking skills, Naseeruddin outclasses everything in the movie, and he’s not someone stardom has struck well, he may just be the person for the art. A perfect mentor for me because that is what I want, to create something unparellel to something not seen before and become a personality that can carry off a beautiful accent and character in his art.

Reviewed positively all over the web, I knew this movie will take me to a happy place when I started watching, and the person who literally stole the screen has given me a new perspective to his personality. I am a Naseeruddin Shah fan no!!. The way he carried himself with his character, played it to what it would be naturally, said the words that needed saying and in the most perfect of facial expressions and tone that needed the words. A classy but yet acceptable Indo-American accent, could not have been carried off by someone who has done mass media and has stopped interacting with people and stopped living. It somehow makes me recall an image shared by my chacha’s friend that encapsulates the definition of success. A creative with two visuals, one of a person whos stuck in a horrendous traffic jam in his beautiful and luxurious Bentley and the other visual of a person in a clean and beautiful surrounding cycling away in the sun. Naseeruddin Shah is the second person for me now.

‘I shall create’.

Struggling with mundane artifice conversations with fellow human beings and near and dear ones. What is the protocol, why is the protocol like that, and is it warmth or is it artifice? I may be bleeding from the inside with thoughts and beliefs, but not ready to share because of my inside feelings  may be considered weird and misunderstood. It’s not something that I haven’t tried doing, but it happens quite often in my life that I’m subjected to be a little on the weird side.

Can I embrace this weirdness rather than just trying to fit in to a socially acceptable ‘mould’ or should I forever be told that I have to fit in to please the folks of the land? I tell people and my young to embrace their fallacies and I myself fight it to take on a presentable moulded form for easier acceptance with the pretentious folks of the land and their incompetent and primitive reactions. I am anything but primitive but I am afraid  of being rejected and not being acceptably considered in the eyes of the elders. Do I need to?

I am afraid of the non-working life and what comes with it. It’s started, its begun..the downfall phase where I feel incompetent and nulled. It’s really a matter of sometime, but now again I am pushed to do things that aren’t for me and neither should I meddle with them. I have to now plan a purchase of a cooking range??? I have to organize an anniversary get-together now for my dad as he doesn’t move his ass. How do always get involved in all this and why can’t I distance myself from all this. Something as stupid as the chachi coming over to complain about dirty dishes and being a complete ass. Where did all this come from? All these guilts take a toll and spin my mental stability for a full toss. I am not a secure person at all that I used to be, or rather much lesser than what I used to be.

I hope there is a way that I can avoid these mundane conversations and household errors that send me on a guilt trip. My list of things to do is just increasing however, what I have realised is that there is something more important than just getting administration right, have to focus on the main thing and get that right. That is my lesson from Venture Garage. Being a small team and a growing venture, it meant that the most important and critical thing for the business was to get new business, so the primary focus was always and will always be new business till the time the business does not get into auto pilot mode. Could the same principle be applied when it comes to my own house-hold and my relationships?

What is the most critical element in my different aspects of life? In my household, I need new things such as mattress, television, etc, which will only come if there is money coming in. Money will come only if my career and my path is set. My path is not set yet.However, the vision is there to become a novelist or writer and my path is towards creation. I am onto creation of things whereas throughout I have been managing the creation and deliverance. But now I must go to creation and nothing less than that will subside my anger with the way things function around me, without congruency and rationale.

I must focus on creation and then eventually make my creations make me money. My words are my creations and these creations will help me get what I want. Till now, my creations haven’t been disclosed or discussed in the world, but I know after a short phase that will seem to be a long phase, it is my creations that will move me and the world with it. It was a revelation, and it was clear, how could it get so clear? It doesn’t matter anymore but it was clear as a glass. I must focus on creating and making sure that my creations make money so that I can get my administration right in my household, or better yet, have a household of my own.

Novelistic Contemplations

Contemplating on becoming a novelist, the best thing about being a novelist is that there is free entry and free exit. A concept made familiar in class xi economics. I really loathe school times, one of the worst periods of my life. Somehow, I don’t remember school time at all, and neither do I feel nostalgic about it. I wonder why. I do feel nostalgic about my time in Pune. The best time ever had in my life. One thing that comes to my head during my time in Pune and Mumbai was that I was alone and away from the incongruencies of my life and family.With 4 years of family life now under my belt, I think its time to move on. Now I realise that nothing here actually belongs to me. It all belongs to someone else in my family. Nothing here is mine and I don’t think I would want to own up to it.

Just by saying that I think its time that I become my own and know what I am going for. What my identity and what my family’s identity will be. I need to go out to build character, the character long lost and withered in dusty walls of my house, my family home. Now it doesn’t feel my own anymore.

I want to hide, because it is human character, an innate habit for all introverted people to hide behind a facade, but such cannot and does not last for long. That it is again human nature and an innate character of every person and identity to break off from its old and wreath a new one when it must. Somehow, very similar to a snake, that must peel its own skin out so that the new and bright underskin comes out to give it the fresh life it needs and it deserves after a long time under the old one.

Material things have made them last long but I think my material possessions have outlasted their charm, and no longer have that appeal that it once used to have. The fresh wallet, the supremely crisp shirt, the striking colored sofa and the pixel perfect television, it does belong to someone else and mine remains nil in this, and because of this, the material belonging of all this remains less for me. Maybe my own belongings may have a lot of worth for me but afford I cannot, and my yearning for them has become less. Maybe words and visions is what I crave now, as I have seen material possessions bring out the devil in people. The devil I’m not, and neither am I one in the making, not even heaven, but I yearn for neither.

My vision and my words is what I crave for, and maybe… that may be my true calling. In this world of crazy stuff, I think that is what will bring me insanity but lead me to saneness and stillness. My last letter may just have my words and maybe that will bring me peace like no other.