Someday

I was in a bus when I woke up from my nap. She was reading a book, it was about travelling. She had said she was an avid reader. From the corner of my eye, in a stealing glance, I could see her beaming in satisfaction on reading that book.

She had a pleasant face, not very pretty. But something about her looks, her speech, her eyes had a calming effect on you. She was almost a perfect example of my subjective definition of ‘beautiful’. Subjective I say, because people disagree on my choice. A lot.

‘So you like travelling’, I asked stretching my arms to ward off the laziness in my muscles. She replied an overwhelming ‘yes’, as if she was waiting for me to ask that question. Waiting for any question to which she would answer yes. It was just the way she was, I thought, judging her on the basis of the last two hours, before which she was just a stranger. My first impression was she lived in the moment, every moment. The elements in her universe seemed to be in perfect harmony.

‘Which was your best vacation’ I asked. She said Varkala. I hadn’t heard of it before, and that was her cue to let loose on all her memories. ‘Its a place near Trivendrum. May be 50 odd kms from it. Lovely beaches, cliffs along the coast, uninhabited shores and all the peace in the world’. The next thirty minutes were about her describing every single thing about the place. Surprisingly, I was listening to her interestingly throughout her vivid description. There was something very compelling about her. She could get my attention at will.

Then she casually said that she could live at one of those uninhabited beaches throughout her life. I merely smiled at the proposition, like anyone else would do at such a remark. Sure we could live a lifetime on the beaches of Goa relaxing. Or move to Jamaica and party there all our lives. Wouldn’t that be an ideal life?! And hence my dismissive smile.

She sensed the disregard my smile contained. She was graceful enough to not taking it offensively, and casually asked me if I wanted to do something like that. I had often felt that such ideas were only good for the moment. Something to dream about, something to make you forget about your daily chores, to take you to a parallel universe where everything was perfect, just the way you wanted it.

I told her about my views. That life would be without purpose if one was to live like that.

Now she smiled dismissively, suggesting she had anticipated this response like clockwork. ‘What do you want in your life’ she asked. I was thinking, when she said ‘break it down to the basics. What do you really want in your life?’. I had thought about this. The very essence of life. That if we break down our desires to the very basics, the answer was happiness. We all want to be happy. Everything else is just means to be happy. She smiled when I told her this.

‘So,’ she said ‘why is it inconceivable to live a life on that beach? Many other people, foreigners, do it. Then why can’t you think of it. Sure doing it is a different thing. But why can’t it be possible to think that one could be happy living at the shore of varkala?’.

I knew my answer. But I chose not to say it. My defence would have been the same old thing that I had suggested, the purpose of life, something that keeps us engaged. To earn a good living. But I knew she would question me about the very essence of all those desires, about being happy. And I knew that I had no comeback to that, being completely unbiased.

I was thinking about what she said. I knew that I would never be able to live my entire life on a beach, any beach. That would have been a little too far fetched to be practical. But what about the smaller things that I had decided to do? The morning walks in garden, long drives to nowhere, lying on the grass, trekking into the mountains, making random friends, learning to swim, going on impromptu vacations? Was being happy not a purpose enough to do something like this? Or sometimes, to do nothing? Somewhere down in me, I knew these answers. I had only been reminded of these by her.

We’ve always dreamt of doing certain things ‘someday’. And we console ourselves by reinstating the fact that our ‘someday’ is yet to pass, that there is time. Yet more often than not, the word ‘someday’ is a code for never. This feelings pops up once in a while, and is then drowned by the noise of what we call life.

There will always be, at least, one person in your life who would remind you of your ‘somedays’. Their infectious nature would reintroduce you to your unfulfilled dreams . And you may meet this person maybe besides you in a bus, maybe you’ve known him for 6 months or 6 years. But he will remind you of all the things you’d decided you were going to do. For me, it was her.

What you do after that is upto you then. Will you strike something off your list? Or will you allow life to save you from this ordeal, and drown you into it?

Love all,

Arun Valera

Courtesy: vaguesomething and DJ Sir