A Horse with No Aim

Sometimes you do things just for the heck of it, like this song, I think…

A Horse with No Name – America

On the first part of the journey I was looking at all the life
There were plants and birds and rocks and things
There was sand and hills and rings
The first thing I met was a fly with a buzz
And the sky with no clouds
The heat was hot and the ground was dry
But the air was full of sound

I've been through the desert on a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert you can remember your name
'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain La, la ...

After two days in the desert sun
My skin began to turn red
After three days in the desert fun
I was looking at a river bed
And the story it told of a river that flowed
Made me sad to think it was dead

You see I've been through the desert on a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert you can remember your name
'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain La, la ...

After nine days I let the horse run free
'Cause the desert had turned to sea
There were plants and birds and rocks and things
There was sand and hills and rings
The ocean is a desert with it's life underground
And a perfect disguise above
Under the cities lies a heart made of ground
But the humans will give no love

You see I've been through the desert on a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert you can remember your name
'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain La, la ...

Doesn’t always result in disaster, I guess…

This blog has come close to be called The Stunned Silence. It’s ironic because the life of this blogger has been going through everything but peace or inactivity. Many posts have come and gone in my head. And even now I can’t bring myself to say much.

Have you thought of this – just before throwing something away, something you want to throw far far away, you need to hold it firmly, and pay it a lot of attention? It’s a bit crazy.

I wake up early morning, really early, sometimes even before five. And the first thought in my head is of the day’s priorities. I don’t know why this job has suddenly come to mean so much. When, really, now I know it doesn’t and yet my stomach won’t stop howling and feeling upset till I’m at work looking at numbers, calling for stock and somehow tackling the five inevitable big issues that crop up each day. Only about three are somehow tackled by the time I return, well into the night. Then I have just the amount of energy to pat my dog half-heartedly, change, eat, watch twenty minutes of TV, and nod in all directions at my mom’s daily family update and remark at my dad’s stupid yet actually funny jokes. Then I listen to a few songs and fall asleep.

Sometimes you grow up believing you were meant to do great things, really big things. And then you end up being a tutor, or someone who makes jingles for ads or sells shampoo, or as someone who makes reports for someone who needs to present an idea to someone who wants to launch a new chocolate into the market. Of course the chocolate will be manufactured by a different person.

What does one do? I am not even sure if there are any really great things to do, any big things to do. I don’t think studying economics was any nobler than selling detergent. At least the way I studied it and the manner in which it was taught (not always, I admit) and tested (almost every time).

And yet I grew up believing I was supposed to be doing something important. And it’s not just a random belief.

So even if I am doing the most mundane thing I end up putting as much of myself into it as possible. It distracts from the essential ordinariness of the work itself. And it adds a certain amount of graciousness to work. Be it Economics at Delhi University or managing a sales organization. I think nothing can be more dignified than effort. I don’t understand when people wonder why I’d fret to this extent over ‘work’ not like I am responsible for a billion lives. But to me anything you do is as ordinary as you make it out to be. You can just work or study or you can somehow manage a target in the midst of the worst floods in fifty years and somehow manage to get yourself through a class that involves reading Fudenberg and Tirole.

So right now I am not working for anyone but myself. I guess I will just have to wait till I actually do something that is essentially important, maybe social work or films. Till then I will work as hard at this, the work I have in hand.