Who Ate My Head?

I am a cannibal.

A peace-mongering and relentless cannibal who has eaten himself up in the hunger for something new. Let me explain.

Yesterday I woke up on the wrong side of the bed to find my own bones strewn around. At first, it did not strike me and I frantically searched for a mirror. There was a broken mirror lying on the floor and when I looked into it, I saw a grinning apparition. I instantly knew what had happened. The venom of indulgence had started eating my grey cells slowly but quietly. I yanked off my own head, reached into my brains and set the philandering thoughts to task. They had spent enough time running amok and pretending to be doing something fruitful. Once I set my head back on, it felt queasy at first but the Return of Clarity was much welcome.

I have missed this Island of Contemplation immensely - this little page on the Internet where the sparkling white sands have not been trod on recently. Rid of the mental mutinies, I am back to pitch camp on my island. To my blog.

Update of the day - the USA continues to be The Land Far, Far Away, especially when one returns from the motherland after an unforgettable trip. The time spent with loved ones feels like sand trickling through the fingers. The magic of meeting old friends, hanging out with adorable cousins, a darling nephew, a grand surprise birthday party, unforgettable road trips, Mom's incessant attention, random run-ins into yet older friends, shopping sprees, in-laws' fawning, a riverside picnic, mutton curry, an excruciating tooth extraction, a flight diverted due to fog, a wedding fiesta in Chennai, midnight wine in the cold, watching the PM zip by amidst screaming sirens, more delicious mutton curry, being shooed by cops from a restricted area, overcoming an old fear, corrupting my family by teaching them how to gamble in Poker, smiling endlessly at wedding dinners, gorging on egg chicken rolls with the ever-blissful Thums up, Grandma's smiles, an accident followed by a mid-road altercation, still more mutton curry, beachside languor, and many more myriad components of a month spent in India continue to keep the mind hostage.

Yet I leave it all behind, like many of us, and return to a different rigmarole. What happens to my logic which I take pride in? Are these my thoughts or are these the cannibal's?

The cannibal would not have been born if I had disciplined my wayward thoughts. I would have disciplined my wayward thoughts much earlier had not I been ambushed by the chaotic wonder of my country. In many vacant moments, I question the nomadism which has led to this state of affairs. Hopping from day to day, and year to year, this mind operates like a Time Machine - one that can transport me into any moment in the past and bring it back into life. The same mind can overcome buried fears and break open needlessly shut doors.

The new year started without the realisation of its arrival. I was busy fending off these new symptoms of procrastination and merry-making. Little did I know that these were the tricks of the cannibal, designed to throw one off his guard. Many of you have made resolutions, I am sure. I used to make one every year until I discovered that a new year is simply the same merry-go-round on which we are all seated on little wooden horses. I keep telling myself that "new year's day" is a figment of the collective imagination, merely a reset of a man-made tool called a calendar - a tool that makes us go round and round in cycles. Years come and years go, and we think we grow older. We plan our lives into little boxes of work, holidays and celebrations, hoping that these things will keep us busy enough to overlook the fact that none of us have a clue about where we are headed.

What if there was no calendar?
No media to tell us what's happening in the world?
No rotation of the earth, and thus no day and night?
No dates and deadlines?
No way to plan anything in life?
What if you were stranded on a desert island where the sand was white and there was no ship coming to rescue you?

All resolutions would come to naught.
All plans would be meaningless.
The only choices would be to eat the cannibal or let it eat you.

So let's stop patting each other on the back because a new calendar year starts. For the cannibal is always lurking within. You can see it when you grin.