0728. Andheri.
Woke up about 15 minutes ago. Must have slept for 8 or so hours. Yesterday I was probably at the lowest points in my life. I don’t know why. I don’t know what was causing it. I literally slept through the day. It could be the house but I think I have made it bearable now. I even went for a walk and forced myself to do 10K steps. That did not help either. Oh, by the time I ended, I was so tired and breathless that I couldn’t even walk. Had to take a rick to come back. Since I needed a distraction, I saw this Malayalam film, Joji, and live-tweeted it. Here are the tweets in case. Interesting film. Good narrative. It’s one time watch for sure. I do feel that the story could’ve been better! But then my opinions may not make a lot of sense. Who am I after all? Unless I write a few things myself that are good enough for the world to take note of!
So that. On to #book2
[START]Ankit was the dark horse of the family. Once he wanted something he wanted. By hook or crook. Or by Saam, Daam, Dand, Bhed. He could very well be the Duryodhana from Mahabharata. Often angry for no reason, often irritable for no fault of others, often at high pedestal that was accorded to him purely by his lineage, often rude when not required. When he was a child, even though his father knew where this was going, he did not believe in interfering with fate. Things that were written in the stars had to happen. Even if you used all your might, you’d not be able to stop those from happening.
So when Siddh, the Bhishma, had the opportunity to stop the young Ankit in his tracks, he chose not to. Rather he focused his energies on preparing for the hell Ankit was going to rain down on their tiny hamlet. A large part of the plan rested in finding the Krishna that would eventually goad the Pandavas into stopping Ankit. And that was becoming a problem. Each passing day he was getting older. Ankit was getting more and more belligerent. There was nothing that the old man, the father could do. Except wait. And keep others around him placated. His only hope was that he would find the savior soon. The other saving grace was that there was no sign of Indraprastha or Drauapadi. Yet. He knew it was a matter of time before Ankit would get fixated on something, someone that he would start showing his true colors.
Of course Siddh count confide this into anyone. His only companion was long gone. All he had were his books. Even if he tried to talk to others, they would probably dismiss. Being religious is one thing but being able to see the future is another altogether. People in Goa may be simpletons but they were not fools. Siddh, thus kept to himself.
[END]So this is probably the first time I have expressed that I want Book2 to be an ode to Mahabharata and more importantly, Anjum Rajabali Sir.
What else do I want to talk about? Lemme think and write disjointed notes…
a, The lockdown for the next two days. I don’t even know how would I survive. I will try and walk around and see how it goes. Let’s see how it goes. I am supposed to go out on Sunday morning, going by the prep the cops had made yesterday, I am not sure if I’d be able to. Let’s see.
b, The mouse I ordered yesterday is here. Wireless is magic. The computer can now be perched at a distance and I and sit back and work. Well done, Mr. Garg. Why did I not think of this earlier? 😀
c, The quarterly letter that I send to mentors (archive here) needs to go this weekend. It was supposed to go last week but I could not edit it. This weekend, the letter is my task number 1. Everything else may wait. Lemme know if you want a copy!
d, Song of the day is an old favorite – So Gaya Ye Jahan. Here.
I guess that’s about it. I feel I have a lot more to say but I am unable to find the words. May be during the day? May be these morning pages / meditations are becoming a drag, a routine, and I have stopped deriving values from these? I mean I talk about how I spent the day. I talk about what I plan to do the next day. I share some of my thoughts that I don’t talk to the world about. I dump whatever is clouding my head. I almost never go back to what I have written. Except for those few days when I want to see where I was on a certain date in the past. I am not sure why I ought to continue with this. I mean, for that matter, I can question the meaning of life and all that. After all anything and everything we do while we are here is meaningless, pointless. Most of us would be forgotten within 50 years of dying. The impact we make would not last more than 100 years. We’d be lucky if things we create (companies, books, etc) live for more than 200 years after we are gone.
Reminds me of Camus and the Sisyphus. Despite not having meaning in anything that I do (including writing this post every day), the notion in my head that it keeps me going is what keeps me going!
Oh, here’s the thing. I have not read Camus. I merely know his name and what he talked about when he walked about Sisyphus. All I did was see this video to understand what he said. And here I am. Using his name like I am a scholar, deeply interested in his life. Lol. You see the problem there?
Anyhow. Enough for the day. Loads of rocks need to be rolled up some very high mountains. Oh, streaks? Here…
- Morning Pages / Meditations – 118 (yesterday was 119 but today I checked and I am at 118. I made a mistake somewhere!)
- #aPicADay – 99 (again, I checked. Today’s post will be 100th.)
- 10K steps a day – 2
- OMAD – 0
- #noCoffee – 31
- #noCoke – 31
- 10 mins of meditation – 0
- #book2 – 1
- Killer Boogie – 0