Things inconsequential to our existence seem to occupy more of our time and efforts, than the ones that matter. For example, it is strange how sitting every day in front of a laptop to create documents and presentations, speaking to strangers, listening to annoying bosses and doing myriad small activties running from one desk to another; could by any strech of imagination help you attain nirvana.
I woke up one morning to find a strange apparition, a head of a long horned deer staring me right in the eye. As I slapped the bastard for having tried to scare me with such antics and threw it out of the window; the thought as to how when and why was the said bastard was even there in my room, that fine morning, never occured to me. Though given the myriad complexities, such as, taking a cab from its forest, figuring out where I lived and then entering through glass panes & iron grills and after all that hard work just sitting staring at a sleeping man; should have ideally got me thinking. But then I stopped living in an ideally a while back.
There is a certain amount of incredulity I must attach to my brains capability of not reacting to insanity.Though it never misses a chance to react insanely to innanities, a case in point is the sudden motor impulse of shouting vulgarities, sitting inside a windows all rolled up car, when a motorist behind me started visualizing the horn of his vehicle as the boob of his keep. While I abused the vulgar buffoon to my heart's content my mind never even gave a blip of recognition of that utter insanity. It failed to reason that how can you stop someone, doing the dreary job of driving, from the sudden lasivious urge to hump anatomical areas, based on one's pre-delictions, and taking it out on the hapless horn? Guess now we know where 'horny' came from, but that ofcourse is neither here nor there; so even as insanities go unnoticed & unchecked, my mind neverthless seems to mind every other small digression of thoughts, dreams or actions I seem to take. Like why did I press a door bell with my left forefinger and not the right. While I routinely jostle with this strange choice of my mind in terms of things to flag and not to flag; I wonder if this perpetual wrestling is a localized one human phenomenon or a more dispersed multiple people disorder.
I often say (mostly to myself) that the beauty of a mind lies in its ability to interpret the innane, but by that yardstick too I myself seem to flounder; since I can hardly interpret or subscribe any background to this act of writing right now. May be its the five hour sleep I could manage last night, may be in the diffused sleepy vision from my eyes, I am seeing a strangley chimeric though true feature of my mind or may be it is another innanity my mind is focusing on.
