A Blank sheet of paper

(First published in ‘The Indian ruminations’)

Being in the prime of my youth, not able to think and contemplate vividly, never was I to be blamed for this. All day locked up behind the doors of my room, trying to discern and comprehend the words of my text books, mistaking information to be the genuine knowledge concomitantly mindful that knowledge transcends the very brim of human reasoning! Knowledge never ends, thus I closed my books and reclined against the back of my revolving chair. Some kind of inner call resonated within, all day long, all night long, while I worked, while I slept, while I dreamt.
Some abstract and intangible questions were tolling my mind over and again. Perhaps thinking; a departure from me would pave the way for the arrival within myself. Being a recluse, demanding constant solitude, sitting alone in the crowd of millions was of no avail, until a journey was to be taken up within the depths of the soul, yes it was like jumping into an abyss without any solid end that my apparent insensibility would land me into!
What baffled me even more, not generalizing though, was the question that will this ever tangled materialistic world, spinning in disarray allow the extraordinary ambience to unveil the ordinary mind. Ambiguity grows in a journey without a preset destination that could ravage the very human existence, which is akin to more of a deep sea oblivious of the treasures hidden in its depth.
Self-contemplation, self-introspection, self-realization; perchance are the concepts of high philosophy, not meant for a child who has not even learnt to walk properly, but closing the eyes, just to believe that, what you see is not there is like a trick devised to delude the illusion itself.
Sitting all day long, not being able to focus and yet focus on something that hardly exists, staring at the walls, cramped up in the chair, hearing the tick-tock of the wall clock trying to douse some invisible fire all in vain, transcending the mediocrity of information crippled in the definition of “knowledge” might be of high relevance and aesthetic sense to some, will yet suffice to spark the excruciating pain, making me to scream helplessly but in the language of silence, if only someone would just listen, someone would just help…..I let the seconds slip into minutes and minutes aggregate into hours. With the gradual darkening of the room, at dusk my eyes open to find myself cramped up in the same surroundings, those same books that I left untouched, that concrete sturdy wall, that peculiar sound of the wall clock indicating something that is running out, connecting the bridges of my identity, explored if not today then tomorrow, I let out a wistful sigh!
With the first light the next morning, those same questions haunt my soul, pounding against my mind as I somehow manage to leave for the jobs of the day in my vehicle for a short journey to my work-place, well mindful of the actual long journey that I am in, a tiring yet a refreshing journey in a way.
To the people I confide in, I ask them those questions that perplex my being, even though knowing that none would be able to satiate my wants, no one can quench this thirst of mine which is not known to them. But yes- the only thing they could do was to distract me from the distraction, may be that was the best thing to do or may be that was the only thing left to do! As the day progressed, I searched for my answers on a map devoid of directions and the best answer I found to my question came just before the closing hours, from one person that led to the articulation of this narration, not accurately forced upon the hearts yet in a way imposed upon human minds, not a piece of blasphemy yet challenging some faith yet to be established, to which we all have reconciled with, incorporating it as an integral part of the answer-seeking temperament of humans.
To all my queries that answer puts an end, yes; she bluntly said to me, “Stop thinking so much for a while!”

Hence I reflected upon……….. I, in a half absorbed bent of mind walked to the main library, believing that all the questions would end if only I would stop thinking for a while and start writing in that while and was I not pondering about my identity, thus my question reduced to only one line: WHO AM I?
And as I entered the library, on the reading table I found before my eyes- a blank sheet of paper!

(For someone who has taught me that over thinking at times will kill you and on my own I realized that it might kill us at times but ironically it might be of help to others. ;) )

--SANA SHAH
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