“ Ride”, “journey”, “adventure”; the common choice of words, people use to describe their life. My first choice would be “experience”, a more abstract word, which encompasses a wide array of emotions. But being the creature of habit that we are, I would end up using a journey, ride more often than not. If you are starting to wonder, is this going to be just another travelogue? you wouldn’t be entirely wrong. But there will be a random mix of everything, from existential contemplation to all things trivial.
If I put the thoughts on the genre to rest momentarily, the main question arises. Where do I begin? And what I do begin with? The choice of not starting is out of the question if in case someone’s (It’s me) wondering. Is the first step of any initiative, the most difficult one? The first impression is the best, they say and voila there’s pressure piling over several layers of apprehension. Say I start something, does it get easier? No, that’s a different game of complexity and topic of discussion for another day. Let’s stick to the beginning as such. What makes it so complicated? Is it because we associate moments of significance to it. Say the big bang, the first form of life, birth (despite the frequency). Is it because it sets forth a chain of actions beyond our prophesying capabilities? (things will never be the same factor)
When did I start wanting to write? How did this idea originate? or does it? Is it only about the discovery of an already existing idea hibernating in the complicated network of nerve cells? A multitude of doubts arises in my mind when posed with a simple question. How long has the idea of writing existed in me? As long as I have existed or is it something I picked up along the way? (like an infection from a virus of the modern era). Then how long have I existed? as long as I have been breathing. Am I only a culmination of actions & reactions during this specific period?
Scientists have been trying to decode human nature for a long time. What does the study of genes convey? That says we inherit a part of memory through DNA. This memory is the repertoire of information that has been passed on to us, which is a result of the experiences of our ancestors over several generations; which could go back as early as the origin of species. So long ago, right!
Yeah, a part of me has experience from the past and the future generation will carry a part of the memory that is acquired during this part of the journey as we try to evolve into a better species (Are we really?). Are we exercising our privilege to access that memory to a greater extent? I don’t know. Even if we are, would we put that to good use? I will never know! Who am I then? Who started it? “I” sounds absurd, if one starts to think of life in terms of experience. I will stop here, rather momentarily but only after quoting T.S.Eliot –
“We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.”