The Unbearable Weight of Intentions

 The way you have lived or more correctly the way you had been made to live has been a travesty. The length and width of the intend in your actions scrutinised to a point that you don't believe it yourself. Who are you? You've asked multitudes of times looking at mirrors or still waters in a pond, by a whispering brook or even yelled at the wind. You've even pondered the questions by the oceans. The silent grasp at a dramatic semblance of spirituality, But in reality you've asked this question on your third beer of the night, on the way to work in a cab or a bus. You've asked it as you sat for your annual appraisals and of course you've asked it subconsciously every time someone seemingly from a far away generation criticized your hair-do. You've asked it while watching your favourite movie and you've asked it while making love to the one that you nearly loved with all your heart. Nearly. 

You have wondered what it means to be you? What it means to be human and what exactly it is that makes you a human. "Who knows?" you've always settled and spend the next moments in careless escapades - into day dreams. 

The proverbial fork in the road right now. 

That your mind has put in front of you. 

And ahead you are tasked with picking the authentic road. "Be yourself" they said. And you tried. You tried searching for the authenticity in your actions.  You tried searching for the elusive authenticity in your thoughts. You tried to be you. But then you realised the you that you want to be is the condensed form of your existence that you have been led to believe is you. By intend unknown. The balm of perceived self assuredness that you have been addicted to, the one that relieves the pain of existence. The one that takes away the heaviness of your existence. 

The fork in the road turns into a mob. The mob of plastic self assuredness that's the bane of your existence - the criticism of your act of conformity, whenever there is a slight stray in the path. The wavering from the path that you had called art and now that has turned you into a circus to be ogled at and scrutinized. 

Again, what does it mean to be alive? The constant strife of contrasting perspectives and an uphill battle to fit in. While constantly hiding yourself. 

All this well and truly happens inside your own head. 

But as JK Rowling as Dumbledore puts it "Just because all of this is in your head, doesn't make it any less real."

Fifteen Minutes at a Bus Stop - A study in the science of charity

The bus ride yesterday morning was hellish. 

A proverbial measure of the breadth and depth of my discomforts. 

I was seated in the opposite direction of the direction in which the bus was travelling. This causes me to build up a sense of motion sickness in my head. And the direction of the seat meant that the entire set of passengers were looking at me. Intently. As is the case most times when I begin to build up the situation unnecessarily in my head. 

Thinking about how to make the proverbial lemonade about this instance and started reflecting on the various things happening in and around the bus. 

The middle stop or the intermission, if you will, was a rest stop for about 15 minutes. And this gave ample time for interesting things to unfold in the bus. Having given up on smoking and being a tad bit uncomfortable in the journey till then, I decided to sit tight in the bus and not go out to even take a leak (which was a mistake as I learnt further along in the journey, but this is not that story).

One particularly striking thing about that stop is that, it weren't street vendors or salespeople rushing into the bus. It was mostly people requesting alms and charity. 

I ended up watching each of them out of curiosity and the two people that caught my attention were a woman who was selling lottery tickets. A man who was limping and had crutches on him. I did not take a lottery ticket even though I felt that woman was the most in need of help among all of them. 

I had taken up a ten rupee note and decided mentally to give it to this woman if she did not get any cash from anybody - but I saw her sell a few tickets. I waited for the limping man to come by. Right as he was half way to me - a man appeared by my side and then asked me to give him at least 10 rupees for a tea. He was very insistent and I sensed a little urgency and desperation in his voice - this made me act in autopilot and give him the ten rupees. And as the limping man came up to me, I took out a fifty rupee note and passed it to him - he silently pocketed in and left. I appreciate that he did not make a show of it and just pocketed the note.

I sense there is a little bit of a parable in this whole account. 

What would any of you have done? 

How would this whole instance have played out if any of you guys were among the people involved?