Jana Gana Mana

Like a lot of other odd things about Mumbai (or may be Maharashtra), if you go to a movie hall to see a movie, they play our National Anthem before a movie. Nothing wrong with it per se. Just that I don't appreciate when someone forces things on us. After all we are a free country. Wait... are we? Debate for a different time, different day I guess. 

Anyhow, so last night, I went to see a movie (don't ask me who I went with or what movie was it). When the national anthem played, I realized that in last few months, I have stopped bothering about my motherland, thanks to our great democracy, greater politicians, foolish citizens, opportunistic media and foolhardy myself.

But the song, the national anthem, the music brought back a few memories. It moved me. Moved me so much that I had goosebumps. After all, India, my country, my nation, was my first love and since I heard the anthem play after so so long, all the memories that I had of being a passionate and fanatic Indian came rushing back. I remembered that there were times when I picked fights with random strangers if they even flinched while the natinoal anthem was playing. And yesterday, this dude walked up the entire aisle of the hall while the national anthem played on. And I was ok with it.

To be honest, I don't know what has changed. And I don't know how it has changed.

And yesterday when I noticed the change, I just dint like it. I dint appreciate it. I guess it's like aging. You cant tell a moment from another and yet you are moving in some direction. Towards something. Undesirable mostly. Everything remains the same while you are breathing towards your eminent death. You are aging every second and yet you don't notice it. It's so slow, so gradual that you cant notice even if you want to. Some say that our body is made up of 100 trillion cells and in one year 95% of those cells are recycled. But when you see your photographs every year, you are are older, balder, bent and frail. And you know the worse part? You can't do shit about it!

In fact, as I write this, I can actually spot a general pattern. It's not about just India and the pride of being an Indian. Things that mattered when I was younger have ceased to matter now. I can think of a million examples. Things like money, fame, friends, dreams, aspirations, thoughts, opinions, wants et al. I dont want any of those. I dont chase any of those. I am fine if I die tomorrow and I dont have em.

I guess I have achieved whatever I could have. 32 years is a long enough time to do something worthwhile. If you havent done it in 32, what are the odds you would do them in the next 8. A huamn life is afteall good till you're 40. After that, well...

And the ones I am indifferent about, guess I cant achieve em. I have actually made peace with the fact that I can never have those things. I'd regret that I couldnt buy a car.

It's like, I have come to a point where everything is ok. I am merely drifting through life. They call it being a vegetable. I am being a fucking vegetable. I like it or not but that's how it is. A vegetative state.

I guess the only person to blame is me.

I for some reason don't have any more emotions (except for #sgMS), any more attachments (except my family) or any more affiliations (except may be MDI). India does not even feature anywhere in the entire thing. In fact if you know me IRL, you will know that I have been trying to move out of India for some time now. However things aren't working out. Some day they will. Inshallah.

It's like someone has drained all josh, all junoon from my freaking blood. It just doesn't come to a boiling point anymore. Bismil, in his wonderful Sarfaroshi Ki Tammanna once said,

जिस्म भी क्या जिस्म है जिसमें न हो ख़ून-ए-जुनून
क्या लढ़े तूफ़ान से जो कश्ती-ए-साहिल में है
सरफ़रोशी की तमन्ना अब हमारे दिल में है
देखना है ज़ोर कितना बाज़ू-ए-क़ातिल में है

I lack that junoon. I need to fucking go hang my balls. Go to Himalayas to retire. Or may be take Jal Samadhi.

P.S.: I dont know if I am seeing patterns where none exist, but today in 1931, three of the most valiant sons of the soil were killed by the British.

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