Fighting Back

Sins wanted to have clarity, in the sense that he wanted to know exactly what he needed to do to live a life of comfort and style. His girlfriend, on the other hand knew so, exactly, and he couldn’t help but admire her zeal, wondering where on earth, or rather, when on earth would he generate a zeal, stemming from deep within himself rather than from external sources like tobacco, alcohol or drugs. He was searching for his moment in the sun, and hopefully a lifetime of time under the sun.

He was sitting at his desk, staring uncomprehendingly outside his window, towards the slow-moving traffic, their aluminium made surfaces, glistening under the hot afternoon sun. Sins felt sorry for the delivery men and women who rode all day, at the mercy of nature’s moods, in order to serve their stomachs just enough to survive for another long day, saving steadily as they strove to enter the economic mainstream, to help their families and most importantly, to get respect.

Sins was privileged, just because he spoke and wrote English fluently, went to a well run school and an equally good college, when in retrospect more than two-thirds of his country’s people had to make do with lesser resources and connections, hence a milder attitudinal mindset towards progress, even if they wanted to do so badly. Sins turned at looked at himself in the mirror opposite, feeling the privileged patterns on his shirt, his well-tailored denim and his watch. He resolved to work harder and be disciplined henceforth.

He was going to be twenty-four years old in thirty-four hours and didn’t feel like it, as if every occasion henceforth wasn’t worth the time to delve upon, since all if offered was a brief absolution from the busy routine of daily life. He wished the entire world would slow down, and somehow regulate itself to become slower, although he couldn’t blame the titans of industry who were out there day and night trying to solve the biggest problems of humankind, of which inequality formed a big chunk. Sins wondered about the future often, how things would be as the years flew by, leaving behind a trail of good and bad memories. But it didn’t matter to him because, he would have made it, made a difference to the lives of the many or the few, but nevertheless living a life surrounded by nature and pleasures like sex and well-cooked food.

He had read about forming new habits, and how all it took was small daily increments repeated over a period of a few months till the new habit completely became a part of one’s self, much similar to how habits like smoking and drinking were formed. Sins intended to break free of all vices that held a grip on him, making him crave for their mind altering properties. Sins didn’t like depending on anything or anyone, but he knew, he knew he was dependent on the substances now to keep up his productivity levels, and in order to get off them, his mind would strike back with double the force, goading him, cajoling him, bullying him to keep the habit as it was and not to anything about it, except increasing it.

Sins had a fight on his hands.

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