Of love and other demons

The nasty repercussions of the process of aging are far greater in number than I could have envisaged. For one, I find myself utterly incapable of falling in love - with a damsel, that is - no matter how hard I try. I mean I really should fall in love…I need to, I have to, I am growing old goddammitt!…but it just won’t happen. Gone are the days when I would have a gush of love-at-first-sight as soon as I chanced upon a gorgeous dausheeza (god I am so fond of that word). The obsession would scarcely ever last as long as a week, but even those short periods (no pun!) used to be pretty intense; filled with all sorts of fantasies, hallucinations, the sweet half-sleeps and nurturing of serene dreams. Now it’s quite the other way round. Just out of necessity even if I‘d somehow manage to convince myself that a certain maiden deserves my attention as well as affection and is the right woman for me, I wouldn’t be able to churn up my feelings and emotions for more than a few moments; may be a few hours at the most.

Then there is this inability to sleep peacefully. Last I remember I might have slept like a child was about eight years back, towards the end of my undergraduate university life. No, it’s not that my scores were particularly bad and gave way to insomnia; the scores used to be the least cause of concern for me anyway, but something dreadful must have happened I assume. Perhaps a spell that actually lasted more than a week!?! Whatever it may have been, the outcome is that sheer agony sneaks in when the sun sets and lying in the bed turns out to be the most fidgety act of the day for me. I’d roll in the bed [alone, with arms crossed firmly against my chest (lest all you dirty minds out there have any wrong ideas!)] for at least an hour before finally falling asleep, only to wake up after an hour to (as Saint Augustine would put it) stare at the largeness of nothing for another hour or so before the next round.

To add to my ailments, I have also been suffering from a serious lack-of-contemplati-bility lately. I mean one thing I could do with complete liberty and authority until only a couple of years ago was meditate, sometimes for hours at a stretch; actually that’s the only thing I could do with liberty and authority (during bouts of constipation, that is, which weren’t quite infrequent). Now I find myself alarmingly apathetic towards life, towards nature and its constituents, and hence unwilling to brood. No more (voluntary) staring at the stars during the nights, sometimes even while lying under a roof, and at the bright region just outside the sun’s periphery during the days, sometimes even while riding a bike. It must be this busy-yet-good-for-nothing life, but there’s certainly also an underlying connection with the age factor. Perhaps, it’s also got something to do with the firm grasp of ADS (no I there!) on me. In any case, this aloofness to my surroundings is surely gonna get me nowhere in life.

And that’s not quite all.