the life of others

It’s a nice house. Though given the circs. I would have settled for just about anything. It is big, airy and though somewhat noisy, has all the psychological and emotional strokings that add up to, for the lack of a better word, cosy. After being without an address for 45 days in one of the most volatile cities in the world, this seems like a dream. And I am surprised at how in the short span of a week I have taken this for granted. As if this was always meant to be. The delirious hunt seems like a distant nightmare. The body seems amnesiac about the rising blood pressure woes. And friends and family are luxuriously nonchalant about the entire thing.

I could have written a book. Another ‘drawn from self experience’ that I just had to share with the world. Or perhaps, made an appeal to people through this place to please allow me the use of their apartment (one, very sweetly has done just that). Even if it didn’t work out the traffic on my website would definitely soar. That is an intangible asset these days. But I don’t really know how many alert marketers would really pay heed since my blog isn’t really about anything but potatoes.

It was then that I read this. And I admit, the man did honestly put me into a spin. I am quite monk like myself. I have no fascination for cars or the frills of a large backseat. I don’t really care about what I am wearing most of the time. Quality means more to me than quantity. But here was someone taking to a whole new level altogether. To renounce everything, he had to a complete stranger and live the life of a leaf. Hoping for a strong wind. My first reaction was that of excitement. Here’s my chance to get back at life. For eight years of struggling against the system. For all the times I have been homeless or broke, or both. For all the times I have walked in the rain as cars arrogantly splashed by cars, smiling and thinking about where I am headed in the first place.

But then it got me thinking. Do we really adopt minimalist ways (or yet, advocate it) because we cannot afford to see what lies on the other side? Do we merely hide away from the harsh reality that we can never possibly get that much and hence positively reconcile ourselves with what we have, sometimes taking it to the extreme of actually not wanting some of the stuff in the first place? I mean, do you really, really need a bidet?

I light a cigarette. It’s time to cross over to the other side. To Gaurav’s experiment. The off-consumption life. From a marketer, whose genus believes in spending every second of available time devising somewhat evil ways to sell soap to people like you (Often taking the help of equally devious and misleading wordsmiths, like me. It is a happy, torrid relationship that borders on organized crime and very long and complicated ‘back-scratching’ instruments that would have been banned even in the medieval ages).

What might he have been thinking? Is he really giving away all of it? I love my books. I adore them. I don’t even let people flip through them for more than a minute in my house, leave alone lending them. More than a few thousand odd, my books have never known the pleasures of promiscuity. I love my little, inexpensive bar. With faded bottles of Scotch that I dare not drink because I don’t know when I will get hold of another bottle. Stacks of DVDs, painstakingly catalogued by genre. My inexpensive cane furniture. My photo frames of jazz artists. To give them away would be to give away a part of my life. And he is right when he says that. Do these define me then? Am I not complete without them? Do I need them for emotional support? For approval? The nod of assent? To impress and encourage women to go the distance? (Umm..with me…hopefully) To standout amongst my incestuous peer group? Oh Please Look At Me, I Am Different Because I Like Miles Davis And Philip Roth As Against Your Trash. And no, it doesn’t make a difference if you are a better human being. If you have found true love. If you can talk to birds. Or are concerned about the world. It doesn’t matter. If you don’t have the sea facing apartment, you are just not important.

I slip back into my being. I don’t think I can do this yet. There’s just too much to do. Important or otherwise. But I think it’s a delightfully crazy idea. I think it’s eccentric and powerful enough to change one’s life. If not the world. I don’t really think it’s for attention, but rather letting people know that it is possible in today’s world to move away from the glitz and get back to basics. A modern day Chris McCandless.

And yet I find myself a bidder. To be a part of his experiment. And I want the apartment, the books, the cane furniture that he has designed, the DVDs and whatever else comes with it. And, no I am not going to give it away. Not yet. Here’s my pitch, in 300 words.

“The apartment will be mine. I shall make friends the little nooks and corners. The corner shelves. The spot where you get the sunlight in the afternoon. The room with the creaking door. The bedroom where you slept after a harrowing day at work. The place where you sit and frown. And I will strip them off their old owner’s shadow. And if you happen to drop in weary, they will greet you warmly as a guest but not an old lover.

I will categorize and catalogue the books and DVDs and put them upon my weary shelves. Next to the ones that I have been having affairs with. This will be my personal harem. I shall not erase your names. But write my name under it. Duplicates will be forgotten in cafes, taxis and parks for others to pick up.

The furniture shall bear my weight. I shall rest on the futon on tired days. Frolick around the bed on others. Stare at them passively and think of where you might be at that very moment on off days.

The appliances shall be there. So will be the utensils. Serving out their remaining days and helping me in my endeavours to be socially acceptable. Washing machines will clean. Ovens will cook. I will treat them nice as long as they behave. Maybe sometimes, I will put in a shirt that looks like yours or cook something that you used to. Just to confuse them a little bit.

The bar will be for me to enjoy. I might put up a neon sign over them. The ones that flicker away in the night rain. They have a depressing quality about them that I adore. The glasses will be wiped clean and used. By a variety of lips. Promiscuous or otherwise.”

Gaurav, this is what I intend to with your constructed life. All the best with yours. Drop me a postcard from little misty villages that you come across in your life. The post offices are quaint. And there are beautiful women who don’t speak your language behind the counters. Selling stamps to backpacked strangers of no fixed address.

To everyone else, if you are in the mood to give away anything at all, please do not hesitate to contact me at phishpot@gmail.com. I need a cloud, for starters. To others, I would love to know what you think.