Thursday, October 6, 2011


I used to return from erode everyday in the bus, from the ophthalmology classes. It took almost half an hour. The 'to' journey used to be good. I had two invaluable books to delve in. Parson and Kanski. The adoration mounted every minute as every tiny mechanism unfolded in dimensions I would have never expected it to. I literally loved the 'eye' and regretted how poor mine was. This was three years ago. This remains inscribed in my memory because this happened for a little over a month. That's about the 'to' erode journey. The classes were unremarkable in that they resembled the usual classes.
I read 'beyond good and evil' on my way back. I don't think I understood much when I read it for the first time then. I got frequently deviated. The 'nothingness' haunted me. I had to fight anhedonia, anhedonia on principle. Every mechanism that I enjoyed reading in the 'to' journey was eventually meaningless. I had to ask myself
What do I do reading all this? Treat people? And then what? They go ahead with their lives. I earn. And what then? I have a tiny chance of bringing some change in people's lives. And again! why does it matter? bringing a change? We are born to live, procreate and die. Nothing else lends greater meaning to life howsoever I may try. I am miserable. Death shall end all this misery of mine. But brings misery to few people who count me into their world
I finally decided to wait until death came and to be happy until then. But things changed since then. Things became almost normal and I lived up to my ambition of being happy.
These questions torment me again. People who called themselves nihilists did nothing but live their lives and jot down whatever they had analysed. But where did all this start? In the search for meaning of life? If that is so, isn't this the universal end-point, nihilism and its accompanying misery? If that is so how many would be alive today? How many of us want to live today? If not many want to live why work for the advancement and research in medicine that costs hundreds of billions in any currency? Why am I even alive? And there is this dreadful question I answered a hundred times that intrudes again. 'What is the meaning of life?' Spare me. I don't want to think. Can you put me in a coma? That's nothingness too-but without these questions.


  1. A prenihilist should go thru this, and become a nihilist. Then becomes a post-nihilist, when she will start jotting down her own things for no reason thereby start enjoy living, and writing, for that matter. The important question is not 'what is the meaning of life?' but 'when can I start living without the need of answering the question'. Not that the first question itself is not to be asked, but being asked again and again should lose its meaning. Thus our lives becomes utterly meaningless. From meaninglessness we invent new meanings which needs no reason for justification.

  2. True..If it weren't for the meaning we invent, I wouldn't be blogging today, irrespective of how productive it is. But our inventing meaning does not mask the fact that life is meaningless. We can be 'post-nihilists', but nihilism lingers and resurfaces sometimes, like it just did. Life may be meaningless, but this meaninglessness is the most meaningful thing I ever encountered.

  3. Looks like, u like it(life) complicated, keep it simple silly :p.,
    on a serious note, one cannot evaluate the purpose of his life without living my suggestion(might not be the smartest), just live good life, don't bother much about its meaning. :)

  4. I'll try that Corn. Seems like you've awakened from a long slumber :)