If the last story I read in ‘Wild Stories’ was about a man who finished his life in snow, now it was about a few who survived 9/11 attacks. Each one of these stories are moving and their courage challenging. I especially liked the one of Ronnie. On that horrible day, he was a ‘good smaritan’ to a lady who was burnt almost completely; at about the same time, his sister and niece crashed into the same building that he was in; that day her daughter turned 11. So eventful day it was that he can not get that day out of his mind. When the author of the story questioned Ronnie about the meaning of all that, he replied, “Meaning is in the rest of my life!”. Those words means a lot to me. It is the rest of the life that has to bring the meaning. Though I am not directly affected by 9/11 tragedy, that event impacted me profusely. Most importantly it brought out the fragility of human life. I have read about holocaust and walked through places where those horrendous acts occured. But 9/11 happened in my life time. It taught me, among many other lessons, what matters is not how much you earn or how much you posses; but how you make your loved ones (and others connected to you in one way or the other) feel . It is then that I decided to be a catalyst for a positive change in other’s life. To me, that seems to be the meaning of life.

This is the third consecutive night that I didn’t get any sleep. Not the complete night, but most of the night. Reason: Surge of emotions! Work pressure also adds up. What did I do through the night? One day I watched Notting hill. I would’ve seen this movie umpteen number of times. I lost count of times that I have seen it. One reason I don’t get bored seeing this movie is that  I could identify myself with the story: a man out of personal tragedy; trying to get along but facing a strange reality – that is my real life. And the climax depicts the fantasy world. For me, both worlds don’t meet.

Other days, I laid awake on the bed, reading a book. Or forcing myself to sleep. I have a strange habit of counting to 80 and falling asleep. Don’t tease! It is true. By the time, I count to 80, I would be sleepy. But not these days. Emotions were too strong. On one side are failures, heart-aches and bitterness; and on the other side excitement of the future; in-between lies the present, sometimes presenting as a challenge and other times more as a thorn. What surprises me is the energy I still have during the day. I do feel tired, but I seem to have enough of oil to burn.

…but the process was different. I was going to gym to downsize my belly so that I could get into pants that I bought couple of months back. As it happens with any new habits, I couldn’t keep it up. It was an, on and off affair. And with tasks flooding over me, it was just impossible to keep going to gym. When I concluded that there is no other option than to live with the horizontal growth, I started developing dental troubles and the dentist in the process of rectifying, has removed enamel on the teeth, which meant that I cannot chew or eat properly. It has been like that for a week or so, which eventually resulted in me loosing so much weight. Now those old pants are pretty loose. Should I worry about the process or just be glad with the result?

I am reading through ‘Wild Stories’, an anthology of travel articles published in ‘Men’s Journal’. One of the stories I read was about a guy named Guy Waterman. He was a hiker, a band player, and lived in a mountain place with his wife. One day he comes to his wife and says that in the course of winter he will go up to the mountain and he will end his life up there, by freezing to death in cold. The author notes that he was afraid of facing old age with all the diseases. As with other aspects of his life, he meticulously planned it and implemented it. I thought it was cool! Isn’t the ultimate control that one can have over their life by pinning down the day in which they are going to die? What he did appealed me, especially with all the heart-aches in personal life and unhappiness in job. It would mean that there is an event on which I have a control. I thought I should do it.
However, the more I thought about it, it doesn’t fit into my personality of ‘not-being-a-quitter’. I have gone through troubles, pain and sickness, but in all of that I have come through stronger than before. It is true I am heart-broken in a never before way and there is nothing motivating in my life. Can that be an excuse for quitting? May be I will think different if I was in Guy’s shoes. But for now, even with all the bruises, Guy stands outside my world.