I was feeling dreary, lackadaisical. In the morning when I was waking up I was not getting the right amount of ego boost to wear my consultant’s tie neatly, to prolong my day with the (haz)ardous banalities that my job invariably brought along, to perpetuate the vainglory of rendering the processes more efficient for my client. Rather I was perennially jacuzzied in the miasma of the eternal dilemma.. am I getting enough out of life? I needed a solution. The elusive solution was so desperately sought that I was ready to sacrify the daily dose of causticities that we magnanimously sprinkled on life, job, boss, girl friend, weather, traffic, congress party over the sutta breaks, the only mechanism by which we reassured ourselves that we mattered on this earth. I was anxious and feverish in the pursuit to get over it. When affordable opulence and decadent profligacy malfunctioned, I turned to morning TV. I went on long vacations. I exasperated my nerves with yoga and took a short course in transcendental meditation. Dabbled with social service. The day I got desperate with my inability to spend some quality time with myself to arrive at the cause of such misfortune, I declared the root-cause for all this to be the fact: FOR FAR TOO LONG I HAD BEEN TAKING MY LIFE FOR GRANTED. As any gaddamn consultant will tell you, once you arrive at the root-cause and you have enough data, arriving at the solution is no big deal. So there I was, with the root-cause of my despair. All I needed was some data and bingo. I was going to live my life to the fullest. As a A pointer in Advanced Market Research, I decided to start with secondary data.
People take life for granted until they wake up to the phenomenon of death. That’s what Manoj Das told me in the opening line of his memoir. I tried waking myself to the phenomenon of death upon reading this. This was not to trivialize the phenomenon that it was but purely as a noble pursuit to infuse an over-arching sense of pathos in those surrounding me, who invariably looked overjoyed, inspired by my fatal cynicism.
People take life for granted until they wake up to the phenomenon of death. That’s what Manoj Das told me in the opening line of his memoir. I tried waking myself to the phenomenon of death upon reading this. This was not to trivialize the phenomenon that it was but purely as a noble pursuit to infuse an over-arching sense of pathos in those surrounding me, who invariably looked overjoyed, inspired by my fatal cynicism.
I knew at the outset that this concept will infuse unparalleled enthusiasm in the group, by the sheer enormity of pessimism that it was capable of whipping up. As you must have realized by now, in the group very much like me, one thing we all had trouble in bearing was overdose of pessimism. We all deeply cherished pessimism and any passing mention of pessimism was ravenously thrashed about with a sense of unparalleled belongingness that manifested in frenzied hollering and consequent unavoidable gleefulness. And it was unwarranted joy that we all doubted and more precisely despised. The thing that we cherished so dearly always landed us in state from where we desperately wanted to get out of. And that was the genesis of my quest.
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