Fleeting Lives & Floating Hopes

I'm surprised that many of us seem to be living with a sense of disillusionment, despite being in full knowledge of it. Or maybe I'm the only one. In this world where every damn thing done is an effort to win the rat-race, those who refuse to take part in it are by default termed losers, and this is said to be the unwritten norm these days. We live in an age of avarice, and one who is free of desire is perceived to be unfit.

The urge to gain wealth, be it material of intellectual or anything for that matter, should come from within, and not from the universe, especially from the immediate kin. Beyond a certain age, one should be free to pursue whatever one wants, but that doesn't easily happen in our country, for 2 reasons: social pressure & moral obligations. One needn't care about the first, but definitely has to, and is forced to, about the second. We’re asked to live all our life for somebody else, just as a corpse following orders not directly stated but brilliantly conveyed.

First, our constitution declares suicide illegal, I’m told, and I have a very problem with that. When it’s clearly not others’ lives, why should ending one’s own be a constitutional problem? This might, or maybe, will sound utterly pessimistic, but I’d like to argue that when one wants to cease to exist, one should be at liberty to do it. Consider for a moment that this is reversed. There might be cringes & cries all over the media & everywhere else in the world, yes. But thinking for a moment of those who’ve been dying alive every minute not being able to put up to the pressures of their close universes, this would be a moment of joy. There would probably be plenty of self-immolations, and such blots would popup from everywhere. Now, what would that mean? It would, nothing but, that those who just left their places weren’t at joy with their presence here, which in turn makes their societies appear anything but perfect.

Scary thoughts indeed. I’ve to stop talking about it, at least for the reason that it isn’t going to help in any way possible, and that I’ve to live with it. But delving a little into it, I’ve got no question other than “What makes one want to be alive?” Love? Desire? Curiosity? Selfishness? Aggression? Victory? Enlightenment? Devotion? Whatever be it, I know not. But to be alive, happily alive, one requires, first, motivation, and a pinch of all these said earlier, with a right mix. But, who’s to call anything right / wrong?

Whence do I come?
Where do I go?
Whoever I am,
What do I know?

Why am I here?
What am I doing?
Why is this life?
When I don’t know why?

What is this fire
That burns me alive?
Where is the rain
To drown me forever?

Is there a God?
Is there Love?
Is there Life?
I’m not living one.