This wasn’t a good year. Not that last year or any of the earlier years were any good. In terms of enduring physically and mentally draining trials of life, there have been worse years. Nothing particularly bad happened this year. And yet this was a year I was possibly my lowest physically and mentally. Nothing got me out of my deep slumber. There were several mornings when I woke up with my body creaking. I stared out of the window blankly to realize an hour has passed by. There were several nights when I closed my eyes but the noises would not stop. There were several moments when I sensed shadows lurking behind me. There were several moments when I lost my balance without barely moving. Even though I wasn’t sick, I stayed in bed for a whole weekend without food, shower or any activity. I did not do anything this year. Just the bare minimum to keep my body functioning. Bare minimum to keep my job. Bare minimum to stay civilized for the society. Bare minimum to survive. The wise will say that I did a lot actually. All emotions including anger, joy, frustration, sadness eluded me. There was only an all-encompassing feeling of emptiness which I carried everywhere I went. I didn’t want anything, anymore.

No particular reasons though. Maybe it was the vitamin deficiencies as told by a physician. Or the lack of sex as indirectly suggested by the same physician with a smile which I thought the Joker would have loved to broaden. Maybe it was because both my parents fell sick at different times this year which made me wonder if their end that I have feared for so long, had finally come. Maybe it was just an accumulation of the years gone by. Maybe because I was overwhelmingly aware this year that I have nothing to show for the time I have been on this planet. That my estimated time left is now less than the time I have already spent. That my quarter-baked dreams, desires, fantasies, delusions have died a slow death. Maybe because I no longer care about anything that I loved before. After all, how many more kebabs and dim sums will I have? My favorite sport stars are now retired. My favorite movie stars are old and struggling to stay relevant. They don’t make good movies any more. Good music? Hah!! They stopped making that two decades ago.

Maybe it was this constant awareness that my existence serves no purpose on Earth. That I just don’t know what to do with my remaining time here as no one needs me. Earlier, for my work I was needed to write stuff and make reports which nobody would read. I would spend months doing my research to create an illusion of relevance. Now machines can generate several months’ worth of my work with graphs, figures and references within seconds. So, what should I do now? Unsurprisingly, even without me telling anyone, Internet seems to know what is my problem. Videos on how to deal with the dreaded midlife crises have mysteriously crawled into my YouTube feed. How to take control of your negative thoughts and live a meaningful life. How to hit the reset button. How to let go and create a new self.

So, this year I thought a lot about leaving. Leaving the prison of my meaningless existence. Maa has been wanting to leave since forever. She never fails to remind that I am the reason she hasn’t left yet. I think she also wasn’t sure of how to leave. There are so many ways. Can be confusing. During my early childhood days, while we would chat late into the nights, she would often tell me how she intends to leave and ask me if I would leave with her. Now, that was always a tricky question to answer. Of course, I didn’t want to live without her. But I also wanted to know what happens in the next episode of The Jungle Book. How Mowgli defeats Sher Khan? I also wanted to read the next issue of my favorite comic as in the last issue, the story was left at To be continued. I wanted to sit next to that cute girl in my class and give her a toffee as a token of my undying love. Also, I didn’t want to leave Father alone. But I wouldn’t mention that to Maa because that would mean I loved her less. So, I would hug and tell her that I will happily leave with her, secretly hoping that she would stay around longer while I can finish my tasks. Thankfully she did. She would wake up in the morning and go into the kitchen. Start chopping the vegetables, prepare the spice mixtures, make the dough. In between, she would go to the bathroom and soak the clothes in detergent. I guess she felt that she too can’t leave without finishing these tasks. She would give Father an earful to not stand at the fish shop like a moron and make sure that the seller cuts the fish properly. Of course, Father would fail to follow her instructions and return home with the fish cut in bizarre shapes and sizes, only to get another earful from her. Both would then murmur that they should have left the previous night. Years later when I studied Chemistry in college, Maa often asked me to get something for her from my lab. I told her that the cyanide is kept out of reach of all students. She would scoff at my incompetency as a chemist for not being capable of making something myself.

She wishes I give her a good farewell by releasing her ashes in the Ganga, preferably in Haridwar or Varanasi. She has fond memories of the latter which she had visited several times during her childhood. To relive those memories, we had visited Varanasi earlier this year. The ancient city standing on the banks of Ganga for thousands of years, symbolizing Hindu civilization, pilgrimage, rituals, sacred texts, ancient wisdom on life, death and salvation. A city which has drawn many westerners looking to understand the meaning of life to its congested lanes. A city where many escapists and criminals have come to hide and turned into pot smoking fake gurus giving sermons by the river to the gullible. A city famous for its malaiyo, tamatar chaat, baati chokha, kachori and lassi. A city revered as a good place to leave the confines of this world and attain moksha. Every day, at Manikarnika Ghat, hundreds of corpses meet their fate with fire. All are finally liberated. Maa doesn’t like being anywhere near a funeral place. She is sensitive to the spirits taking hold of her. In the evening, as I was leaving our hotel for my exploration, she strictly told me not to go as well. I sulked but like an obedient son, decided to not go anywhere near Manikarnika ghat. But what you seek often draws you towards itself even if you don’t intend to. I didn’t know that Manikarnika ghat is not the only funeral ghat in Varanasi. While ghat hopping, I ended up at the Harishchandra ghat which turned out to be the other one. Sorry Maa. I didn’t know. Of course, I could have left immediately, but I spent two hours there witnessing the spectacle of the end. Garlanded souls wrapped in white brimming with pride, ego, wealth, anger, joy, ambition, life goals, to-do lists, heartbreak, longing, disappointment, pain, were now being stacked side by side, waiting for their turn to get liberated. As more souls joined the queue every minute, the wait was long but not as long as life. The mood in the air was supposed to be solemn, but everyone around seemed to be nonchalant about the proceedings. Locals standing on the steps of the ghat, carried on their daily life conversations as tens of funeral pyres burned in front of them. The tourist boats passed by, travel guides narrated stories from ancient texts about the benefits of being liberated in this holy atmosphere, and tourists captured the visuals in their cameras. Attaining salvation at ghats of Varanasi! #divine #moksha #blessed

As the souls floated up with the sparks from the pyres into the moonlit sky, I had a transient feeling of liberation from my emptiness. I thought if my end came now, I won’t be disappointed. Have had enough good food, traveled enough. There is nothing to look forward to. So yeah! Maybe hitch a ride with some of these fellows. Oh! But Maa had asked me to get a rabri while returning. Also next day we were to go to the Vishwanath temple. They won’t be able to navigate the crowd without me. Not yet! But it would have been quite convenient if the end came then and there. The final rites could have been done immediately without delay and my suffering could have been released into the Ganga. Traveling 900 kilometers across cities, it would have met the sea at Gangasagar and disappeared forever into its depths.

Thinking of the sea, I returned from the sea a few days ago. It was the first time I chose to spend my birthday by myself away from the confines of my daily life. Swam amidst the waves, cycled through coastal villages of whitewashed houses with tiled roofs, and kittens and puppies roaming in the verandahs, rice fields, banana and coconut plantations, kayaked through mangroves, hiked through caves, dined at expensive sea facing cafes, checked out pretty women and stared at couples cuddling on the beach. Anything that my privilege could afford. During one early morning swim, I went into the water further than initially intended. After about an hour, when I thought of returning, I realized that the more I was trying to swim towards the shore, the further it seemed to go away. My limbs were tired and the current in the water was dragging me inwards. What you seek often draws you towards itself even when you don’t intend to. Momentarily, I thought of giving up and let myself go away. But I had already booked an auto for the day after breakfast. He would be waiting for me. Somehow, after an exhausting twenty minutes or so, I found myself splayed out on the sand, barely able to move, with a hurting shoulder.

On my birthday, after a hearty meal of butter garlic prawns and fish masala wrapped in banana leaf, I stood on the edge of the cliff at midnight, hearing the waves crashing on the rocks below. With my feet unstable and eyes drooping due to exhaustion and Mai Tai, I was again aware of the years gone by leading to this moment of emptiness. The awareness that it didn’t matter whether Mowgli defeated Sher Khan or that India could not defeat Australia in the world cup final. That like this trip, those pending bucket list trips to the Mediterranean, Alaska and Amazon won’t bring me joy. That no amount of sex will help. That I have not been able to reconcile with the futility of human existence. Or grasp the illusions of love and happiness. That the meanings I choose to ascribe to ephemeral ideas and stake my existence on, are only a reflection of the intangibles I seek and may disappear anytime. A text, a phone call, a meeting, a memo, a spark of fire, an underwater current, can take away all the meanings created over years in an instant. So why hang around? If only the breeze would just push me off my feet and take me to the end. Good food, gentle breeze, swaying palms, cool music of the waves… a pretty way to go! #mokshabythesea

But Father had called the other day to help him with some work in the office after I return. Maa also wants me to take her to the market to buy a new gas stove. Duh! Barely a month ago, she told me that irritated by her senility, I don’t love her anymore; that her time to leave has come. Now who gets a new gas stove before leaving for their final trip? Then a couple of friends at work want me to help them develop their business ideas. Damn! There are always some nagging tasks that prevent you from leaving in peace. There is also the tiny matter of Ethan Hunt’s final impossible mission next year. It was in the year 2000 when he was on his second mission, that I went out on my own for the first time after the first semester exams were over. A bus ride to the theater, a McDonalds’ burger and two hours of Tom sporting sunglasses and flowing hair, climbing mountains and riding bikes. Joy, liberation, desires, fantasies, delusions. Even if I don’t care anymore, can’t abandon Tom on his last effort to save the world. After that, there would be no reason to stay any longer! Hopefully then, I would be able to leave without any hindrance. In the meantime, hope someone makes a nice song.