I find myself reliving the past more and more often these days. I think of the good times and the bad. I remember the simple pleasures and the complicated sorrows. I remember the heartwarming surprises, the lazy days in the winter sun, the chatter of familiar voices all around. I remember the trivial problems that seemed so huge. I remember the secret tears and unarticulated fears.
I don't know why but I feel quite a disconnect with the way of thinking these days. I am quite happily ensconced in the Chitrahaar era as far as my most of my beliefs go. I believe in the value of family, respecting elders, in true love, in wide-eyed innocence, in shyness as an acceptable virtue...in a simpler, less hedonistic way of living. I surf the net to connect to the world, I shop to feel good and I aim for a bigger house...but I remember a time during those long, familar power cuts when friends, family, neighbours sat around a communal aangan, drank endless cups of chai and chatted about everything under the sun to pass the time. Sometimes I participated, sometimes I just let their words wash over me like a river of warmth. Sometimes I read my storybooks by the light of a candle. Sometimes I made up poems and fairytales to tell the other kids.
I think of "multiverses" or alternate universes sometimes. It refers to the idea that there are multiple universes where maybe you also exist but your life has taken a different turn. You are not a mother of two kids settled in happy domesticity but a free-spirited adventurer. Or it could even be that time is not a contunuum as we perceive it, but an infinite series of parallel universes. This means that every moment that I have lived exists as a separate data point somewhere. I think that maybe, while I sit here typing out this post so full of yearning for days irretrievably gone by, there could be a world where that life still exists. Somewhwere in the vast mysteries of space and time.
After all think of how little we know about how the world was created. We run about our daily lives, one among the billions who inhabit a small rock suspended in what we call space. A space that has no beginning and no end. I find this incredibly awe-inspiring and scary. The idea that there is no beginning, no middle, no end to it all. How many other worlds are there? Is space really infinite? It boggles the mind to think of all these spheres spinning silently in eternity, sprouting life forms. Life forms who over aeons manage to complicate their life in incredible ways. We really forget or maybe we don't want to remember that at the end of it all, you are just an insignificant speck in the universe.
Yeah...its an effing trippy post.