Restoring the Culture of Faith

Today was a terrible day. I have been utterly and truly upset since about I pm this afternoon. In the grand scheme of things, my problems might seem oh so miniscule and it truly might be a possibility that I’m completely and utterly overreacting but then again, when have I claimed otherwise? You know I’m always somewhat okay about that fact that I have very little love and little money in my shallow coffers, but all this seemed somewhat unimportant because I always have one thing to fall back on. My work. It has always been a wonderful consolation to know that even though everything seemed wrong and utterly unfair at the moment, I always had my job that made life meaningful.
I still remember the day when I fell in love with the movies, how could I possibly ever forget? The unexplainable surge of pure job that filled my heart when I saw the mesmerizing visual poetry manifest before my eyes gave my life a whole new meaning. It was at that moment that I for the first time discovered the purpose of my life. I had to be a part of this magnificent process, in what capacity was irrelevant. All I knew was that I must some how be a part it, for the happiest I have been is when I have been watching a film.
Here I am five years later, working in the movie industry, truly utterly enjoying every moment of. My job very much defines who I am, it’s not work, and it’s my life. At the end of a terrible or for that matter even a great day, what I look forward to most is loosing myself for just those precious few hours in someone else’s life. Their joys thrill me to no end and their heartbreak and sorrow make me weep in empathy. I embark upon fantastic adventures through the magic of the silver screen and fall in love time and again through epic everlasting romances manifested in the movies. Everything that I have always wanted to do or see I have, though the movies. Imagine my pleasure when I finally got my dream job, which allowed me to be a part of this fantastic machine.
Imagine my complete heartbreak today when my boss calls me in his cabin today and tells me that he feels like I’m not making a valuable contribution to the organization. The last thing that I’ve ever wanted to do was work a nine to five; if this were to be the course of my destiny then I would have been a clerk or an accountant. I would have been my mother whose work has always been a means to an end and not her passion or her purpose in life. I was horrified, I was traumatized, and I was devastated. My boss felt that I have had a communication gap with the rest of my team members, which has affected my productivity. This isn’t entirely wrong-hey at least I have the guts to admit when I’m at fault, well somewhat anyways. I have been truly and utterly self-absorbed in the intricate workings of my life; I was depressed for weeks, maybe months. I have been completely lost within myself, reflecting, thinking, internalizing, brooding, being disconnected from the outside world, conversing very little with those around. Unfortunately I spend a good chunk of my day and work, since most of my thinking and internalizing happens at work, yes I know I have come off as somewhat hostile and un-approachable. But for fuck say to say that I’m not passionate about films and what I do especially when I love it so is sheer blasphemy. The cheery on this shit cake would be my boss saying that I need to express my passion for my work more say like hmmm T is absolutely irritating.
In order to show that I love what I do I need to jump around like an idiot, scream yell, criticize everyone else, spout out random ideas that may or may materialize, loudly complain that no one really gets me and generally act like a five year old. Ah, yeah not really my style, but I’ll give being visibly passionate a chance instead of internalizing it like everything else.
I know I’m wrong, I should have been careful enough to not come off as hostile, spent more time asking questions and not assuming that everyone works independently and autonomously like I do. But by no way or means have I ignored my responsibilities or treated my job as an unnecessary chore. On the contrary I have been working really hard, hence the utter disappointment, shock and internal flood of tears when A told me that he has very little faith in me.
I’m a novice to the Indian working environment, all my adult working years, until now of course, I have worked overseas. I’m not used to the Indian working model which comprises of pretty much kissing everyone’s ass, asking your seniors unnecessary questions to make the feel knowledgeable and ultimately consulting them even before I feel like farting to make them feel superior. I’ll keep this in mind next time I head to work to prevent another disaster like today; after all I have another “review” in a month. I need to restore their faith, whatever that means…

Goodbye...

Strange, conflicting, confusing dreams supplemented by the flood of erratic and unexpected emotions they bring leave me exhausted each morning. What do they mean? What is the significance of this bizarre sequence of past reality planted with fictional moments that plague me time and again? If dreams are meant to be a manifestation of ones hidden desire and unfulfilled wishes, then what does this haunting moment that plagues the recesses of my imagination time and again have to do with any sort of wish-fulfillment? It doesn’t make any sense, even though I desire it the most, logic, reasoning and reality dictates otherwise. I want to let it go, but it refuses to abandon me completely. It will be six years this August, a quarter away from a decade if my math is right. Yet it only seems like today, I close my eyes and get transported at another time and another place with much ease.
That ominous afternoon when I saw him last remains alive in my mind. Trivial details like the precise date and time blur into oblivion. I remember it was the monsoons, yet the sky was bright and clear. Perhaps the God’s took some mercy upon the great gloom that was descent into our life or mocked our great misery. I’m not really sure it was which. The dark cloud of impending death which haunted that room was in constant conflict with the bright sunshine that filtered in through every crevice there.
I slowly tip-toed into the room almost silent, except for the whirling thoughts in my head. He lay there perfectly still, the perfect embodiment of serenity that only death could bring, yet his bony chest heaved ever so slightly, showing the last signs of life still present in his frail, wasted body. He once took great pride in his appearance, toiling for hours upon hours at the gym, but no more. It was hard at first to see his once healthy, wholesome physique waste away in such a short span. But now the sight of his bony carcass was a predictable sight. A small smiled curled at the corner of his mouth as he lay so still, finally making peace with his demons, befriending his inevitable end and making death is closest ally. He laid still and silent undisturbed by the ruckus of the outside world. I stood still unwilling to wake him from his slumber, yet he somehow knew that I stood there, gazing at him for the last time. His eyelashes slowly fluttered open, he squinted at the bright rays that assaulted his vision as the merciless invaded the room, but he stood his ground. He gradually sat up; the monumental effort to conduct so simple a task visible was evident on his wrinkled face, the sweat on his brow witness to his endeavor.
I tried to be strong and unafraid; mortality wasn’t something that I had confronted before at such close quarters. My heart was being ripped into innumerable shreds with every passing second, I wanted to run away but I stood paralyzed, obscenely mesmerized at the sight of human decay before me.
I don’t exactly remember when the tears started, but I was vaguely aware of their presence as they stained my lips and cheeks, hot, wet and salty. I threw my arms around his brittle neck and wretched long, hard and loud for what seemed like an eternity.
He cried too slowly, softly, sadly, consoling me with great tenderness and compassion. I admired his strength and courage even in my maddened state of grief. Blessed are those who see the fallibility of human existence so closely and yet find in within themselves to truly see the infinite beauty in it and still love it unconditionally. He pried my arms loose and I let him reluctantly go, for the last time.