Existence

Recently, I have been struggling with figuring out what to write in my daily blog posts because I don’t really see the point of recounting an uneventful day and that is exactly what my days have been. They have been inconsequential (much like what I have come to realise is my own existence) and to put it out here feels like I am giving too much importance to myself and besides, who wants to read my mental ramblings about how I had a class and how much work I have and how many meals I skipped that day. What is the use of a life whose only concern is about how each day is proceeding and nothing more, where its primary concerns are not of any consequence in the world? Whose world is this existence making better or helping? Potentially no one’s.

But let me move away from that for a second to talk a bit about brilliance and the way it shines through. This is where I think I behave a little elitist and say that I believe there are lives and people who don’t shine, who probably never will, whose existence will merely be a speck. This could be because of whatever reasons and I am in no position to speculate about that. But I think one of the few thoughts that I have about my own existence (what is even mine in the first place, I wonder) is that it is a useless one. Yes, I occupy positions in this world where my presence adds some value to people’s lives. Yes, I am a daughter, a friend, potentially say, a mother or whatever. But these are roles that can be fulfilled by anyone or if I didn’t exist and no one else existed in my place, those places would not be there at all and it would have been a different life, but one that would have been perfectly fine anyway. But aside from these misfortunes of circumstance, there’s literally nothing I can call to my name and fame. It is quite a useless and pittance life, honestly.

It might be a good counter-argument to say that I am but 18.5 years old and of course cannot be expected to already be someone of consequence in the world. That is true, I would agree completely, I do have time. But do I have what it takes to convert that time into a consequential existence? I am not very convinced. I really have a lot of work to do that is extremely important for my life at Ashoka and I am not really getting anything done. Adding to my worries is my own dwindling mental health, I mean, it fluctuates a lot, there are times when I am doing quite alright and sometimes when I am just a burden on this world and myself and I don’t really see the point of going on and on. It sounds horrible and of course, I don’t support or entertain any ideas of suicide (it is a very serious issue and I hope that people who face problems get help and keep themselves healthy and safe, we need you). Anyway, it is all part of the shining existence idea because that is something I revolve around in almost all aspects of my life. I will do better, right?

And that’s my memory for the day.

Shining Memory Sparks

What is it about memories that make them so irresistible? I mean, we are always looking for opportunities to make some memory or the other. We want to hold on to every waking and living moment just so that they will continue to be lived, in our mind. I started this whole blog because I wanted to remember, I wanted to document my memories. And what memories they have been! There have been bad days, horrible days, days pushing me to break down, days when peace overwhelmed me, days when I could look up at the sky and smile for no reason at all, days when some light would light the way up for me and make me feel warm, comforted, and safe. Each of these days, I have written a post every day. Each day has had countless memories, numerous quirks in each of them, that I obviously could not write down about. Many, I have probably already forgotten, it is after all the way of the brain. But the small spark that they no doubt set off in my brain will not be forgotten.

Speaking of memories and forgetting, I was looking at my father’s old laptop. It had been the second laptop of the family, we had got it some time in 2008 or 2009. It had become extremely slow and quite sad, but it had gone through a lot and had served the family faithfully for quite a long time. It had been the computer I had been obsessed by, all that I learnt with and about a computer, was from that computer. Naturally, it held a lot of my old documents, pictures, assignments, and projects. I was curious, I wanted to remember what young 9-year-old Yashasvi had been up to.

Now, as far I remembered, I used to fancy myself as a smart kid–I thought I was smart, creative, and also good in English. Well, naturally, I used to be a much more self-assured kid back then. Then puberty and high-school hit me and down the drain went everything. I think it has become quite convenient for me to blame so many things for my own dwindling self-esteem and other problems. But then, it is also the truth, they contributed immensely to my own failings. But that’s the thing right? They contributed to my failings, not someone else’s. I am reminded of something my parents say–they say, regardless of what people say about you, or whatever happens to you, you are the one who would get affected. The others are not going to go through what you will. So you better not gift yourself that punishment. Regardless of whether puberty or high school contributed to my own failings, the fact is, I have those failings, not them. I have to deal with them, I become the recipient of this horrible prize. It is quite a liberating thought if you think about it long enough.

So I opened these videos and documents in the old laptop and spent quite a long time watching and reading them. Needless to say, I was cringing and laughing through all of them. I could not remember when I had written a few things, could not recollect properly what I had been thinking when I was dancing on stage when I was three and a half years old. It was just a pleasant buzz of memories in my head, I could recollect some vague feelings and thoughts, but that was that. But I think that is the beauty, it reminds me of these lines in a poem by Henry Derozio called A Walk by Moonlight 

“Yes; there are in the backward past
Soft hours to which we turn –
Hours which, at distance, mildly shine,
Shine on, but never burn.”

Yes, the lives we have lived so far have countless memories and thoughts and emotions and ideas. Many, we forget, some, we remember with a decent level of clarity, and quite a few remain as vague buzzes, that are pleasant and shine, but they don’t burn with the same intensity. They are like the smaller stars in the night sky, those that are quite easily masked by even light clouds but continue to shine and twinkle. You can never probably locate them properly, name them like you would be able to name the pole star or some other star, or even the moon and the sun, for that matter. But you still register their presence, they light up the sky for you nonetheless. Isn’t it beautiful? That these memories are sparks that sometimes set off a destructive wildfire, sometimes also light the stove to feed and nourish everyone. But sometimes, they only light a small candle or a lamp that would provide feeble light and warmth. But regardless, the spark is still a spark. The spark I showed in my childhood may have grown feebler, but it is still a spark, still with the potential to light the stove and feed and nourish me. I think I just have to find the right place for me to strike my stones for the spark, right?

And that’s my memory for the day.