It is said that enlightment comes to certain individuals in
the blink of an eye – when they are busy meditating, or climbing mountains near
their village. For me, enlightment, if I were to call it that, didn’t come in
an instant, but rather gradually over many months and years; over many
euphorias and heartaches.
While pondering over random memories, I realized that since
graduating from high school, I have not lived in one house for more than 3
years. And I have not worked in one job for more than the same amount of time. I
have always been on the move – across cities, across jobs and across beliefs. My
subconscious has always embraced the fleeting and the transience.
And yet, the conscious me has always held onto the material
and the tangible. I have held onto material possessions all my life – those old
clothes, those audio cassettes, those still photographs. For as long as I can
remember, I have held strong emotional attachments to objects, people,
memories. There has never been a fear as great as the fear of losing them.
All this changed on the 4th of August 2019.
That was the day I landed in Canada as a Permanent Resident.
Permanent – a word that doesn’t quite go along with the vibes of this post, but
let’s not get into the technicalities of that.
When I came to Canada first in 2018, I had planned to stay
here for a year – two at most, and then return home. I wanted the experience to
enrich my life when I would go back.
Due to unforeseen circumstances, that ambition of 1-2 years
was cut short, and I had to leave after just 6 months. I was devastated. I had
to return home still with something lacking, still with aspirations inside me.
But then, I was not the one to give up. I applied for my
permanent residency and got it 3 months after going back. The initial jubilation
of the news slowly gave way to deeper considerations. I realized that if I were
to go back to Canada, it would be for a much longer duration – switching careers
across two countries is by no means a joke. So a ‘permanent’ move it would be
to Canada.
Taking the decision to leave everything behind was not easy.
Thinking of all the things to let go was as hard as gripping a piece of burning
coal. The day before I was to leave my Home to come to Canada last year, I paid
one last visit to the places, the people, and the memories. I bid them goodbye.
I had to move on. And I have.
After coming to Canada, I immersed myself in a thousand
activities – finding a house, getting my driver’s license, landing up in a job.
But somehow these were not mere ‘distractions’ for me. Something inside me
changed the day I left home. There was a silent voice inside my head which assured
me that whatever was happening was for the good. There was nothing left for me
back home now – I had left my old job, had given away my ‘beloved’ computer,
and most of my friends had already moved to other places. There was no point in
looking back. That ‘home’ was not meant to last. The memories looked at me with
enticing eyes. I waved at them with a smile, and then looked the other way.
There have been incidents leading up to that point, and also
some since then, that have strengthened my belief that nothing lasts forever. Nothing
is constant in this universe – not our possessions, not our homes, not even our
own selves. Even the stars and the galaxies are not fixed in the universal
plane. Even the most robust of materials decay sooner or later. Day changes to
give way to the night; the gloomy winter passes to let summer come forth. So is it worth holding on to our petty belongings in this world of transience? Even
our own notions and opinions change. We are not the same person that we were
say five years back.
Doesn’t it make more sense to enjoy every fleeting moment
and welcome every change that comes along, rather than resisting the natural
course of things? Doesn't it make sense to experience as much as possible within this short and brittle life?
I finally seem to have made peace with the fact that we are
meant to lose everything we love and hold on to, as depressing as it may sound.
Instead, I am prepared to welcome every change that comes my way with open
arms. I finally seem to have aligned my conscious with my subconscious. I finally
seem to have found the courage to raise a toast to the fleeting, and the
transient.
