Perfect...

In Oscar Wilde’s only published novel “The picture of Dorian Gray”, the protagonist decides not to put his best work of art on display, because he is afraid that he has put too much of himself into it. And thus, is against the proposition of putting himself before the lewd and cynical eye of the public at large. When I first read this book, a couple of years back, I doubted the merits of such an act. After all, it is a dream of any artist to paint his magnum opus; that one stroke that defines his stroke of genius. But now that I’ve thankfully matured into a greater and more profound level of understanding, I can quite see the reasons behind such an act of denouncement.

All our lives, we strive for perfection. A state where we are at peace with ourselves; a state of self-actualization. A vast majority of us are blessed with the destiny of not attaining this perfection. Thanks to all the worldly pressures, pleasures and distractions. But then, there are an unfortunate few who stumble upon this stage, even if inadvertently. Now, that you have achieved perfection, what next? Where does one go from here? It is like a darkness that surrounds our eyes just after we finish a 200m dash. Only this time, this darkness is more perpetual.

I should add here that I’m not contemplating something that is completely abstruse and relegated to the realms of arts and humanities. This is something that we all know and practice throughout our lives; in all forms of public domain. When a person joins a sales department, he is warned not to show that much zeal and efficiency in the very beginning, because the sales target are, by definition, unattainable. It is said that the more you achieve, more is expected of you in the next quarter. And who could forget the famous Hawthorne effect? In this ground breaking study conducted in early 1930s, it was found that the gangs of workers were deliberately under-performing under an impression that if they finish the work before time then they will become obsolete that sooner.

I, as a matter of fact, am quite far from the level of perfection that I’ve set for myself. But I’m quite aware of the fact that I may stumble upon it sooner than I plan to. But here lies the clincher, I plan to.... after all what is life without a little bit of a death-wish?

Rambling inconsequentially...

I seem to have seceded into a strange sense of restlessness. A restlessness where I am in equal anticipation of things to happen... And also afraid, that they might... A restlessness, where everything matters and, yet, nothing does.... What am I waiting for? What is it that still eludes me? Why is it that the more I try to stay calm and go to sleep, more I see my legs shaking to a subliminal vibe? And last, but perhaps more importantly.... Why am I even bothering to ask such questions? I don’t think I even care to know what the answer might be.

How does one know where one stands if one doesn’t know where one started or how long one has travelled? Why is it important to know where one stands? Because the place of one’s existence in life, is unique. No two beings can exist at a same place at the same time. So where one is; is of no consequence to anyone else. It is only sick to seek gratification by trying to know more about something about which no one would be interested in knowing and even if they did, would be plainly unfathomable to understand.

For example, why am I rambling like this? What is it that is bothering me? Is there anything at all that is really bothering me? Why am I making my life miserable by constructing such long complex sentences and trying to join them together using a myriad labyrinth of punctuation marks? A strange fight to beat those frustrating green wavy lines of MS Word which remind me that man-made algorithms are better at a language, which man has perfected long before its very existence. Would you understand? And more importantly, would you care?