The Reincarnation, The Wisdom and The Nickname


Reincarnation. Believed by some, disbelieved by others.


     To some , it gives a sort of hope. Nothing’s ending with this life. I’ll get another chance. Like not playing well in this match because you’ll have a chance in the next match anyway. Like putting off things for tomorrow. Putting off hopes and dreams and wishes and emotions until the next life. They somehow forget that even if they return, it might be in a form which may not allow them to pick up on their hopes and dreams, pick up on their previous lives, where they left off. The new life may be confined to instinct, which is the case with most non-humans. (And most humans, according to me.)

     To others, it’s an exciting thought. They dream of people they might be in the next life —rock stars, scientists, leaders, poets. They look at it as a life different from what they have now. As if by some miracle they will be destined to be the person of their dreams the instant they begin that life. They miss a small point. Life in itself will not change, whether it’s this or the next. And what you become ultimately comes down to what you wish to become and how much you put behind it, two parameters that are independent of which life you are in. So if you can dream of being a rock star in your next life, why not in this one? Because either way you have to battle it out yourself. Next Life won’t be fairyland, will it? What’s more, Next Life may not be, in the first place. So what do you say you try that dream right now?

     There’s a third species that falls under this head. But I’ll come to that later.



     The first sort is the type that puts it off right away. Seriously, this is the twenty-first century! Nothing much to say about them.

     The second type. Roze is one. She commented on almost all my blog entries. She has a lot of patience. Her point, it’s too much like a routine: you live, you die, you live, you die. I said in What You Reap is What You Sow that we carry on wisdom to the next life, if there is one. She said it makes it even more mundane. It appears like putting things off for tomorrow, like I mentioned. She’s not ready to agree right away.

[It appears I misunderstood Roze. Anyways, in that case, just assume there’s a certain imaginary person called Roze who believes so. ;-)]

Again, there’s a third species. And again, I’ll be coming to that later.


My Belief

Imagine a player not giving his best in a warm-up game because he always has the next match to do it. And imagine a student who passes from an education centre, with a certificate. When he returns to it, he won’t, of course, have to go through all of it again. He gets to study higher things, and when he’s done this for a few times, he may have reached a stage where he might even be able to teach. That’s the carrying-over. It doesn’t die. It’s often forgotten, though, like I mentioned in What You Reap is What You Sow. But in case of certain individuals, the forgotten knowledge nudges from inside, at strange times of the day, sometimes violently. And sometimes, it all manages to come back again. And then you pick up from where you left off and continue the journey, without ever realizing most of what you thought or realized was not a voluntary or conscious thought process, but rather a recall. That’s the catch. That’s where it gets out of hand. Voluntary thought lies in your control. Remembering doesn’t. You might feel a nudge in the shower, or a nudge in the middle of the night, and wonder but I wasn’t even thinking about it. That’s where it becomes violent. (It happened to me. It still is happening. Take a look at Gift or Curse?) But remember, it’s only a memory that’s coming back. At least I believe so.

     Now you begin to think I believe in reincarnations. In Next Lives. Right. And wrong. Not many of  life’s important questions can be answered like twenty questions, in yes or no. Not in one word. They need paragraphs, stories, entire books. Here’s a try at explaining my belief.

     I seriously don’t know about reincarnation. But everything seems to point towards it. Everything seems to leave a gap like puzzle piece where a particular thing should fit. And reincarnation fits extremely well. Again there are gaps where it does not fit, things that don’t agree with reincarnation. It’s confusing. But on the whole, I’d like to believe there are levels; levels of life, levels of reason, levels of truth and lie. Like a game. You pass level 1, and you’re never coming back to it. Next Life will be a higher level, with higher reasons, higher truths, a higher physics and less rules. So that even if you return, you do not return here. Now can you connect with what I tried to say in that student scenario? A player gets the same environment, same rules, same odds to battle with and same skill in this match and the next. But the student passes, he progresses and graduates, opening the doors for higher things. Those of you who have read Jonathan Livingston Seagull by Richard Bach will realize that he talked of the same thing through the story of a seagull’s life. But he was an extremely free and strong-minded seagull, and through himself he put forth all the necessary qualifications for a good grade, for a graduation certificate. And he passed to higher things. I believe all that. The third species in the Believers’ group is people like me. You might be one too.

     Now it comes down to the harder part. Stop thinking about Next Life. It’s already there, let’s say. Now if that is there, there’s no reason why there shouldn’t be Past Lives. Who knows, this might be Level 2, or Level 13, or Level 100843.

     Read the last paragraph well. It does not matter whether you believe it or not. Answer a simple question and don’t lie to yourself. Does it really matter to you now, sitting in front of the computer screen, whether you lived once or twelve times or a hundred thousand eight hundred and forty-two times before? Does it matter at all? Is that count able to change anything about you — your life, your dreams, your knowledge, who you are now? Does it really matter what you went through in your past lives – if they existed – what you learnt and the emotions you gathered? Does it even matter whether past lives exist or not? Your life now is confined to Level 2, or Level 13, or Level 100843, or whatever. Your birth. Your death. And everything in between. That’s the only thing that matters. Not which level this is. Not how many levels you crossed before. You might have learnt a lot of things before. But right here, right now, this life is all it comes down to. It simply does not matter whether you had past lives or not. You don’t remember, some don’t believe, and one thing I know, is that you don’t care. That’s it. You don’t have to. Me and my life is just that. This me and this life. And if their existence makes no difference, why count past lives at all? Why waste time thinking about them? And thus, I conclude, I don’t believe in Last Life or Next Life. I only believe in This Life. And in the games where you find levels, you also find characters with 3 or 4 lives. I apply it here, and what comes out is that I have one life. As long as I have this life, I have only one. And now you can count me into the third species that form the non-believers’ group. And that, again, is the story behind my nickname.



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A bit more on the moronic loser who owns this space (that’s me): 
Global Personality Test Results

Stability (33%) moderately low which suggests you are worrying, insecure, emotional, and anxious.
Orderliness (33%) moderately low which suggests you are, at times, overly flexible, improvised, and fun seeking at the expense of reliability, work ethic, and long term accomplishment.
Extraversion (40%) moderately low which suggests you are reclusive, quiet, unassertive, and secretive.

Trait snapshot
messy, depressed, introverted, feels invisible, does not make friends easily, nihilistic, reveals little about self, fragile, dark, bizarre, feels undesirable, dislikes leadership, reclusive, weird, irritable, frequently second guesses self, unassertive, unsympathetic, low self control, observer, worrying, phobic, suspicious, unproductive, avoidant, negative, bad at saving money, emotionally sensitive, does not like to stand out, dislikes large parties, submissive, daydreamer.
Advanced Global Personality Test Results

Extraversion |||||||||||| 46%
Stability |||| 13%
Orderliness |||||||||| 33%
Accommodation |||||||||| 36%
Interdependence |||||||||| 36%
Intellectual |||||||||||| 50%
Mystical |||||||||||||| 56%
Artistic |||||||||||||||| 63%
Religious |||||| 30%
Hedonism |||||| 30%
Materialism |||||||||||||||||||| 83%
Narcissism |||||| 23%
Adventurousness |||||||||||||||| 70%
Work ethic |||||||||||| 50%
Self absorbed |||||||||||||||| 63%
Conflict seeking |||||| 23%
Need to dominate |||||||||| 36%
Romantic |||||||||||||| 56%
Avoidant |||||||||||| 43%
Anti-authority |||||||||||||||||| 76%
Wealth |||| 16%
Dependency |||||||||||||| 56%
Change averse |||||||||| 36%
Cautiousness |||||||||| 36%
Individuality |||||||||||||||||||| 83%
Sexuality |||||| 23%
Peter pan complex |||||||||||||||||| 76%
Physical security |||||||||||||||| 63%
Physical Fitness |||||||||||||||| 64%
Histrionic |||||||||||| 43%
Paranoia |||||||||||| 43%
Vanity |||||||||||| 50%
Hypersensitivity |||||||||||||||||||| 83%
Female cliche |||||| 30%



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The Matrix Code

    Everything that has a beginning…
    Everything that has a beginning…
    Everything that has a beginning…


                                                                               …has an end.
                                                                               …has an end.
                                                                               …has an end.



Gift or Curse?


I’m gifted, I know. Sorry, but I know  it. So is one in every bunch. Doesn’t come out into the open, but the gift is there. A little prodding and you’ll be surprised at what you’ll find. Oh God, I never knew you were so thoughtful  and all. I found this out accidentally (Come on now, every important thing is an accident.) in two people.
     This is the rarest ability of the human mind: to wonder at and question about itself, and question about every last thing in the universe, to question about the universe itself, cry itself hoarse till the answer is heard, whispered and silent, from the empty spaces that so many years ago, on a silent summer night, breathed the question into you.
     What haunts me is how much of it is a curse.
     From age 12 or so, I’ve had splinters in my mind, to quote Morpheus. At first they were mere  curiosities, encouraging, adventurous. Then they grew. They spiralled around me as the years passed, as I grew slowly introvert. Like a constrictor. A boa or an anaconda. Slowly and stealthily coiling itself around me, precise in its decisions. It was a separate entity, a separate and independent decision-making chamber inside me that I couldn’t control. I used to refer to it as the ‘second me’. I still thought it was my dark, confused side.
     As time passed, I realized, unfortunately, that I had more to discover. That chamber in my mind grew from a splinter-manufacturing unit to a voice of command, a much stronger decision-maker. It grew a will of its own, and struck especially in cold evenings when it was silent enough to hear the fan groaning in the room. Strange. Weird. Unexplainable. And unstoppable, because it was beyond my will. There were evenings I still shiver to recall, and with no one to explain the emptiness to. I discovered there was no point behind achievements and success, no point behind devoting each day to ensuring there comes a tomorrow. And slowly, the emptiness and meninglessness grew to engulf my entire life. I looked at the past, I saw myself. I looked at the future, I saw emptiness. And I was terribly depressed.
     That’s when The Matrix came along. The strength, the belief. A messiah, a saviour. I found the strength I needed, not to win, but to be able to fight. To force myself to acknowledge  the value of life. The Chamber didn’t quiten. It grew. I grew with it, fighting it, utilizing it, and only occassional bouts of depression were all that remained. Neo was within me.
     And all around, I saw people who didn’t have to fight. I felt victimized, punished. Cursed. And I saw that they had no idea who they were and that their life and thoughts and aims and expectations could not stretch beyond tomorrow, like a car that blindly follows a truck three metres ahead of it, without ever seeing the road ahead. Short-term aims engulf their lives. They have to have a little objective a day or a week or a year ahead of them to make them move on. If you clear all that, move the truck, and just show them the path to the end of their lives, show them the road they have been travelling on and leave them to decide, they will die of a cardiac attack, because they won’t know what to do with it, without a job or a club or a hobby or that promotion or that raise or anything to target at. Because these little things are what their lives come down to. Life has no separate existence to them. I know it, and I feel blessed. Gifted.
     That’s the story behind The Gift and The Curse.

Fades Into the Dark

There was this girl I came across on Disha Pillai. We got to know each other slowly. I wrote some philosophy to her. What I wrote then, now resides in my blog as The Forgotten Question.
Philosophy is not the subject of this entry. She is. We used to exchange e-mails. Never chatted, never had an audio conversation, never called up. We just exchanged e-mails. Words were all we had to know each other. At times I felt strange about her. No, not love, but just a sort of far-away feeling, you know. That there’s this girl sitting in her own room in some other part of India, a girl I would never meet in this life, never meet in eternity. That’s okay, there are so many people I won’t meet in this life. But that I communicated with her, that I understood her and she understood me, that we both knew the other was alive and breathing, but still we could never meet, left a gaping void somewhere inside me. Like a thread through my window that stretches to a place far away, to a place I don’t know, and I pull it, and I can feel someone pull the other end, and we both know there’s someone out there holding the other end, never to be seen, never to be known beyond that pull of the thread.
Two months ago, we stopped e-mailing. Abruptly. I sent her a few e-mails later. Got no reply. No delivery failure, no crowded inbox. Maybe she just doesn’t check any more. Maybe there was a money problem and they had to sell their computer. Maybe her inbox is now just a desolate old shelter in the middle of nowhere with no one to belong to, no one to send messages, no one to receive them. Maybe they shifted and had to leave things behind. Or maybe… I don’t like to think about it.
She just faded into the dark. Like the momentary gleam of a comet in a star-strewn night sky. So easy, isn’t it, to lose someone? Someone who had no position in my life and yet meant something? Easy, isn’t it?
Oh God, I just hope I open my mailbox one day and freeze with happiness when I see her name out there, on a message, undeniable, unalterable.