What I am thinking today, I know, would not matter more than a shrug tomorrow. Yet, the process keeps going on and on. Why? Is it what sociology claims to be a subject of evolutionary theory – to build a layer upon a layer in a supposition to attain perfection? No matter, what you do, your brain remains busy contemplating – all the time, every time.
Mine too. There is no exception to my head. Rather I feel it being bestowed with over-flooding thinking ability. But wait. Don’t think I am a thinker – like Socrate or Plato. No I am not.
I am a singer who sings only while in bath-room. I am a poet who writes only while in love. But I am a compulsive thinker. I think of various things. Some of past, some of near offing and some of remotely afar! But I think. Always. All the time…
Serious thinkers are those who back their thoughts up with their borrowed or self entailed logics. They follow a process. A process to imbibe concepts. A process to conceive reflections. And when they are done, the whole human race evolves not just they. They carry the filth all along with them. They are the super-heroes. I am not.
I am a plebeian – an unwashed lousy token of stain – who doesn’t even know what he lives for? Have you ever noticed why there is so much of dust everywhere? In roads, in home and even in you. Why? Do they have a purpose too? OR, they are just a by-product of the continuous grinding of universe over the time and – perhaps – space too. I feel like the dust. Useless, abandoned and aborted! But I think. I think because I am not willing to accept this reeking title.
People, all around me, make me aware of my uselessness, of my inutility. They engage in multiple dichotomized activities with me. Sometimes to negate me; sometimes to abet me. But their every move remains contaminated with the politics they grow in their mind – certainly by thinking. Hence, motivated by it I also think. Not to politicize my moves but to offer reluctance to politicization of mine.
Thinking is a deep conspiracy – or say a profound urgency – that ignites the insurgency of the fresh over the archaic. The conspiracy to shun the arcane and evasive to establish something simple! But in the very essence THINKING, somewhere, prevails the complexity in itself. The whole process stems from a conflict between the resistance to change and attainment of perfection. The society that binds us like a cobweb is a facet of resistance. While the culture that gives us breath defends the motivation to change. Thinking is nothing but a protocol of this conflict. One who thinks must,somehow, understand the link – the nexus. I think. Hence, I am certainly able to comprehend the struggle. I am better than the dust then.
Sometimes I think – to step into love (not to fall into it) with deliberate steps and planned move. Why? Love is the only source of hate, of dispute, of biasness, of selfishness. No. I am not insane. It is true. How? I can prove.
Have you ever noticed that you actually feel jealous when your better half (sorry to put such an adjective) harps on his/her ex? That you really tolerate others looking at his/her. That you try to show authority. That you profoundly want someone to belong you. Why is it so? Why so much of anxiety?
Had it been the bookish love, it would not have been such. Ideally, one should feel content while in love. But no, feelings of something contrastingly negative dominate. Love has always remained in books – Never did it come out of it. Rather in a retrogressive manner, our books have slowly ousted love with hatred. Some time more and we – the elite animals – would not even be able to recall what the heck this love is?
Whatever! I love because I need a conflict. A kind of a force that would take the onus of my all activities! And above all, I love to avail my thoughts some food since, I think.
I called her yesterday night not to talk but to respite the talk. I pretended to be busy with my work – though I was not. I asked her to give me a missed call after about half-an-hour. I knew she was an early sleeper but still I expected her to stay awake. But she went slumber and I waiting. Thinking of all nuisances, peeping relentlessly over the phone. By the time phone rang I had finished one big packet of cigarette and the dawn was diffusing through the window. My night was spent. My struggle faded out.
Whose fault was it? Whose ignorance was it? Who was in lesser love? None! It is very much human to tend to fight. And when we don’t have an enemy to combat – we create one. I just did the same. No one likes peace. If they had, universe would have stopped. The flow would have ceased.
There is an inevitable need to think to generate the conflict. So, I think.