My short stature makes people come pat-backingly close to me minutes after we get acquainted, but it has made me so casual with strangers that I crack unsettling jokes at their cost even before we are properly introduced. That is unwise, I agree.
I suspect that my coolness is a red herring of sorts. It is a means to conceal some extremely vulnerable part of me.
I have messed up many times. By 'messed up' I don't mean some pardonable mistake but that I have been confused, in conflict with myself and the world around me for rather long stretches of time. Yet, not once did it stop the world from spinning nor me from going about as if everything was fine.
Most shrinks I have gone to were kind but those not exactly kind were matter of fact and brutal. One of them simply told me that it was too late for him to help me. He was old; he was the old school type, meticulous and to the point. His practice was not solely to earn loads of money. It was to cure people too if he could, but in my case he said that he could not cure me.
My 12 hrs trip, all the way to Madurai by bus one way was fruitless. That shrink flunk me and I was depressed. Then I saw the cloth Mahatma Gandhi was wearing when he was murdered, preserved in a dark room in the Madurai Gandhi museum, and got more depressed.
The 12 hrs return trip was an eager treat, almost.
I regard the forty seven years of my life with guiltless objectivity.
I have not dared much. I have not taken risks, have not set goals. My super-objective was shrouded in difficult folds of impossible targets. Like, for instance, I sought "supra - mental" change even before attempting the more plausible "mental" change.
Thus time here is spent gazing at shapes on mobile walls.
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