ArpitGarg's Weblog

An opinion of the world around me

Posts Tagged ‘wife

Same Same but Different

with 8 comments

Last night I had this amazing dream. I woke up at night with lights flashing all over. A man with big mustache and vintage golden dress was standing tall, over me, and laughing loud. “Wake up, you lazy bugger, Wake up”. Sleepy and startled, my first reaction was to blame it on the overdose of Vodka that night. But soon the gravity of the situation or can I say the lack of it dawned on me. Aaj toh lag gayi Mamu!

He told me I was dead. Died of a certain Gastropathic attack. Gas! Couldn’t it have been something legendary?  Like being attacked by flying dragons while jumping of a plane which collided with a UFO. Leave it.  I died of Gas alright.

Here I was, one moment trying to realize my dreams, my future and the very next facing the shock of my demise. My whole life flashed before my eyes. Family, Friends, Future. What now? I begged, pleaded with my soul transporter. Let me live to make things work, make things right.

It’s hard to say that it was my lucky day, given that I just died. But he took pity to me which clearly didn’t seem to match his M.O.  “There’s one condition though”, said he. “Here it comes” “Give me a reason to let You live.  Hey it’s easy, “I have so much left to do in my life. Get married. Make a career. Have kids”. He gave me a smile. “You don’t seem to get my question. Why should I let You and not some other person, live”

I was just an answer away. Given that I have been writing exams all my life, it shouldn’t have been that difficult. But believe you me, however hard I tried, I couldn’t get an answer.

Have you ever thought? Trying to make a mark in life, a place for ourselves, we have ended up being clones of each other. Lost that very individuality that we have been craving for, fighting for. When I look outside my apartment all I see is blinking stars. Only they are not stars, they are other apartments. We are all boxed up. All flats look same. All work looks same. All roads look same. All blokes look same. How is my life any different to my fellow men?

Well, it only seems logical that we all be same. The funda of evolution revolves around learning and surviving. We learn from others, grab the best of all and apply to our lives. Thereby becoming a hybrid.

With the advent of cut throat competition, this cloning process has only hastened. Don’t you remember your mother/wife saying, “Pados waale Sharma ji jo TV laaye hain humein bhi wohi chaiye” Or a kid crying that he wants the new Play station which his friends have. You covet other mans wife, car, house, life.

If we look at it the other way round, “What’s the problem in being clones” After all we are all born humans. Same at birth. Same creator. Same creation. Why is the need to be different? Just that it doesn’t seem all that right to be part of a monotonous system. It just seem what can I say, unnatural.

The similarity doesn’t end with the lives we tread; it follows us to our grave. However hard we have tried to make our post-death ceremonies different, the truth is, after a certain point, nothing but dust remains.

Anyhow, I was not able to answer the question of the big mustached guy. Good that it was just a dream. Am not sure what I had done for real.  Not even sure I really do care to be all that distinctive. I might try now and then, something out of the blue to be different. Might also be successful at that for a while. Till someone decides to catch up and steal my thunder of course.

Advertisements
%d bloggers like this: