Page 16 - #letter to son

DAYBREAK
Dear son,

That night I had wanted to give up my life. I had wanted to end it all in
one swift stroke that I thought would get me eternal liberation.

I was a simpleton from Chitrakoot, a dot in the heart of rural Uttar
Pradesh, and had moved to the big metropolitan city of New Delhi,
India’s capital, for my articleship. I was as lost as a child is in his first
day at school. To me, the bright lights, unending roads, shiny cars, tall
buildings and people, swarms of them, coalesced into a colossal maze.
As my being tried to make sense of this chaotic hubbub, an old burning
question came back to my mind. ‘Why is it always so hard to leave the
comforts of familiarity and get started?’

Grappling with my existence, my mind a tumultuous sea, I could
suddenly see someone familiar walking up to me. Wanting to draw
desperate comfort, the comfort that a journeyman seeks from an oasis
in the midst of a simmering desert, little did I know that it was only a
mirage.

A peer, with whom I was co-working for an internal audit assignment in
Calcutta, drilled fear into me, demonising the senior partner who was
due to visit to check on our progress. This was like a final blow to the
pulp. My fibers were shaken to the core, strung in a disintegrated mess. I
felt stranded and helpless and, in that vulnerability, as soon as the senior
arrived, I fell to his feet, surrendering, sobbing, mumbling that I wanted
to run away to the forests. This maze was too overwhelming for me. To
this day, I remember that he gently lifted me up and told me that we’d
go and seek the blessings of the lord the next day and I should sleep for
now.

Far from sleep washing over my troubles, I felt as if it was pulling me
into a dark abyss. Faster and deeper. That night, that fateful night, a thin
sliver of light came to my rescue. I had this habit of talking to myself.
Discussing. Arguing. Analysing. Exploring. All with my own self.

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