|Juhu Beach. By moi.|
I'm never satisfied. I went to Juhu Beach after a decade or so this Sunday. Yes, it was filthy to the point of revulsion. But I was ready for that. All I'd wanted was some proximity to the sea and the feel of wet sand sinking between my toes. I got that. I strolled along the sea, my dress billowing in the breeze. I smiled at the dashing waves and trapped them within the confines of my camera. I watched little kids frolic in the muddy water and shy women stepping delicately into the sun-kissed ripples. I saw stalls selling all sorts of snacks and vendors enticing the weekend crowd with their fancy wares. But I wasn't satisfied. I wanted more, though the 'more' remained frustratingly undefined.
I've taken three trips already this year. I've seen some wonderful places and spent time with some of my best friends. I've encountered unfamiliar tastes and equally unfamiliar shores. I've run across the entire length of a beach in Pondicherry and collapsed with laughter in a cramped rickshaw in the bylanes of Mahabalipuram. I've marvelled at stuffed birds in Chennai's Egmore museum and watched the stars in the pristine Varkala sky in Kerala. I've had goosebumps at Ranga Shankara theatre in Bangalore and been transported into a space of my own at Fort Kochi beach in Kerala. I've travelled far and wide within as well as without. And yet, contentment eluded me in every one of those trips. If Kerala wasn't eventful enough, I didn't see enough of Bangalore. I explored Pondicherry to the hilt with my friends but still, I feel as though I missed something very vital. And that feeling mars the otherwise rosy tint of my memories.
What is satisfaction, really? Is it a state of complete fulfillment, with no desires or doubts whatsoever? Or is it just a calm state of being where desires can co-exist with the bliss of the present moment? I had fleeting moments of contentment this Sunday and during those three trips. But I want more. I've never dealt too well with vagueness and uncertainty. And maybe that's why life is dishing them out to me in generous doses. So that I can slay my Achilles' heels and become maestro supremo of my own destiny. But while I struggle, tell me if you would, how I can quieten the voices of discontent that crowd me in my sleep.