The Life Of Hearts

One cold, gloomy, overcast morning, over a cup of freshly brewed coffee, an Ethiopian blend which he had procured from an import house, Sins could suddenly, crystal clearly remember the entirety of the life he had led for the past four years. He could see every individual he had met and every circumstance from the vantage point of his mind’s eye, as if his brain sought to analyze each and every thing to arrive at a consensus he himself had no idea about. Except that somehow it all seemed to make sense. Maybe, there was order amidst the random chaos after all. Maybe there was a grander design. Or maybe he was just overthinking. He had no clue.

But what he did know was that, from this view, he felt he had genuine clarity.

The clarity that rather than wait for circumstances to go his way, it was better to make those circumstances happen by planning about it in advance as if it was surely going to happen. The clarity that instead of leaning towards the left or the right, it was better to stick to the centre by committing to not what it felt but what was the truth which was the correct thing by default. The clarity that other people did not understand his outlook towards life not because they were in the wrong or intellectually incapable to do so, but because he hadn’t been able to communicate his ideals effectively and more patiently.

The clarity that all living beings were biochemical algorithms whose outlook had been shaped over the years depending on their social circles, economic conditions and cultural values, and how only a few could see through this revelation, and how it was up to him to find these few and not lose hope. The clarity that his mind was an unstable, impulsive, downright fidgety, yet rational, scientific and a positive thought producing machine and how he could continuously shape its outputs according to what he wanted provided he focused and continued to do so.

The clarity that individuals were a walking, talking bundle of stories and versions about themselves and how some people sought to hold on to them while some wanted to change those stories and add newer paragraphs with multiple twists and plots. The clarity that emotions could so easily cloud over one’s rational thoughts, most times for the worst, a small minority times for the better, that too because the rational self had wanted to give some leeway to evolutionary design to make itself happier. The clarity that heartbreak was inevitable and the best that could be done was to observe the feelings emanating from one’s mind, since observation would help the said feelings to pass away much quicker than was thought possible.

The clarity that one could take many heartbreaks.

And the mind’s eye could watch them simmer away after a few minutes because after all, what was life if not a random set of events, a random set of hands dealt? Waiting for the better hands by folding on the bad ones, yet not berating oneself for indulging the bad ones, would make all the difference. If only, it were that that simple as it sounded.

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