the things we hate most

...about others are the very qualities we despise in ourselves.

when i read 'of human bondage' by somerset maugham, i felt utter contempt for the protagonist, because he was such a spineless turd. only a masochist could do things like let the woman he loves treat him like dirt (perhaps that isn't the right word, because a masochist ENJOYS getting hurt, while this guy squirms through life lonely, discontented and unfulfilled).

such a loser.

...and then i discovered that everything i hated about him were precisely the things i hated about myself: being shy and trying to please others to the point of personal discomfort, and then philosophising away the injury inflicted upon the self (and feeling noble about it too!).

i hated the book (i still do!).

later, while reading 'peter camenzind' by hermann hesse, 'to a god unknown' or other books by steinbeck or salinger, i felt a strong connection, a feeling of bonhomie towards the protagonist.

upon retrospection, i found that what i actually loved about these books/their characters is that they are a reflection of what i perceived to be good or admirable qualities in me.

somewhere around the middle of 'steppenwolf' (by hermann hesse), the character, who in the beginning is a 'madman', turns into a 'normal' person who no longer feels alienated by society, and enjoys living in the mundane world. i'd stop reading the book at that particular point and put it down. i could no longer 'connect'. i made several attempts to start over from the beginning, but could never continue beyond that point.

then, thinking there was some kind of salvation for the protagonist to go back to 'abnormalcy' by the end of the story (this was hesse, dammit! HE couldn't disappoint me!), i forced myself to read the entire book from start to finish.

the whole exercise took me more than 3 years...but yes, it ended satisfyingly: with a mad ending. i could identify myself again with the not-normal, un-mundane protagonist.

'eye of the beholder' indeed. how true it is that we look at the world as a reflection of ourselves.

there's no 'Ctrl Z' in life

not having an 'undo' option or a rewind button is perhaps the most defining feature of life as we know it. you are given ONE chance to make your decision, good or bad, and you have to live with the outcome.

what does this linear and unidirectional path mean for us? what if there had been a 'what if' option in life? what if you could travel back in time and 'correct' a 'mistake'?

how wonderful!

...or is it?

would you erase a certain part of your life because it was painful? what about what followed the moment of pain? nobody i've ever met wants to live through the most horrendous part of their lives (read adolescence). but would we be 'complete' without going through that most testing period of our lives?

there are uncountable fantasy stories that deal with this subject ('mr.destiny' is a personal favourite), and ALL the better ones end the same way: "i wouldn't change a single thing, no matter what."

life is all about the choices we make, the paths we take or are forced upon by action or inaction. maturity lies in accepting life as it is and moving forward.

it's tempting to dream about 'what-ifs' and 'what-might-have-beens', but while we are busy fantasizing, we miss the beauty and splendour of the 'what-is'.

the person i am today is the sum total of all the choices i made in my past, but not for a moment do i dwell there. i'm too busy living it up in the now. for me, it's always "today is the first day of the rest of my life."

it's nice to feel nostalgic, but as someone wisely said, "nostalgia is good stalgia" because you spend too much time regretting 'missed opportunities'. and "you know you've become old when regrets replace hopes".

i intend to remain young until the day i die.