Where do we go from here?

 Hi. Its been a while. 

I've been excusing myself from writing. June and July have been a godsend. But I haven't done enough, I'm working a lot, yeah but it isn't enough. I've been going to Jugaad quite often recently. Every time I'm there I feel a lot of imposter syndrome. It feels like I'm otherworldly trying to fit into this world which I know nothing about besides my love for films. Sometimes I feel as though I'm overbearing myself. Telling myself I have the keys to be a master filmmaker though I haven't even been on a real set. Nor have I worked with actors. My previous work makes me feel all the more amateurish. Not that I didn't know that at the time. The question arises once again. Who am I? What's my purpose? Why do I swing my sword?

What's at the end of my blade? Is it fame, wealth or happiness?
What's happiness anyway?

Jugaad carries a certain weight but now that I see it, on a closer inspection its not built on a mountain of corpses nor is it a fiery pit. Its a place built out of bonding, emotions and people coming together to build something? Isn't that also my dream? To have something of my own. What is it that I want?
Is filmmaking the answer I'm seeking?

Hm. There have been enormous changes in my psychology and in the physiology of my self. I have been clear on my intent. I will be the mightiest swordsman. The way of the sword is all I have. I don't wish to return to gibberish codes, technologies or even behind the desk job? However what I have to do in order to meet those ends meet feels similar? What happens when FTII decides they don't want me? I have a lot of thinking to do. As I add sugar to my tea, I wondered if this is all I'll have. I don't wish for fame. Its a disease, knowing people is already difficult. What must I do in order to move faster? I need more practice.

The gym has been fermenting my soul. Not in a bad way. I feel more energized again. Like a mountain.

Its different now. I don't have any backups. This is it. I'm in the game. Unless I fight against the bosses of the real world nothing I say or do will impact those I wish to reach. Mhm. I wish to create something meaningful to those who need it. I want to create something that gives me the strength to keep fighting, to keep surviving. For myself. For Tanushi. And for my friends.

Now as I pour the tea into these fine ceramics. I find myself in the sediments embedded at the bottom of these cups. I'm the tea leaves that remain. Life is the hot, pouring tea that comes and goes. Hot at the beginning and then it cools down. Life settles as well.

There was a little rat that found his way into my kitchen the other day. My parents and older sister spent an entire afternoon chasing it before it hid itself under the fridge. They moved it too and fro to no success. The little rat went deeper and deeper. All that came out was goop and dust.

I had two close-calls with the little fucker. One at 2 am as I felt something drift past me on the counter. Later I waited and saw him. He was a baby rat. We had a staring match. At my first move, he ran past and hid himself behind the grinder. I saw the opportunity and found a broom to kill him with. But he was saved in the nick of time. Since my arm was sore from the lifting of earlier that day. He ran under the fridge once again.

My mom left poison everywhere in the room. He ate some of it. But since rat poison is a blood coagulator, it can be saved by drinking water. Which was available in ample amounts under the fridge. Worried about the compressor, insulating walls and the wires to be bitten. We thought of setting up traps. Later that day, the rat made its move. A final one of sorts. 

He decided to hide himself in my sister's closet. She found him instantly. After which she screamed and he hid himself behind the bed. She closed both exits and put poison in. 

Two days later, my Nani joined us at our home. She came for a week. On the third day, as I came into the room to change after a shower. It smelled like death. The decaying body of the rat was attracting the death flies. It'd died the last night.

To get rid of its rotting corpse, we had to take out the entire bed. And all the material inside. As we were cleaning I felt horrible for the little rat. Survival has its cost. The discussion whether all life is precious comes to a standstill till it comes to humans. If you were a pest, an annoyance or just something that came in the way. You're to be put down. The rat locked its faith the day it entered our home. This is just the endgame. If I were to tell this story, no one would question the morality of this decision. A rat dies because its a pest. They'd begin to reason with me saying it would cause even more trouble if it lived till it matured.

As I picked up the remains of the baby rat that found my way into my home, I felt sad.
I was asked to flush it down the toilet. And I obeyed. We then spent the remainder of the day cleaning up the bed and all the dirt that'd spouted from all the moving furniture.

I found an ugly brown blanket there and asked my mother why'd she still keep it?
My dad answered it was the first thing he'd bought himself. They made jokes about my father being a poor man. But I thought why the blanket? It seemed clear to me. Survival. 

My father had been bought up in a household of an alcoholic father, an ignorant mother with 3 sisters. He knew he had to be there to provide. Else survival would be impossible. He imagined it to be his duty. I wish I could tell him it wasn't a duty. A necessity maybe. But not his duty. Like the rat, he'd burrowed his own deep pit about duties and responsibilities at a young age. This made him a very purposeful man. That made him strong. 

Once he knew he had the strength to defeat the world, he fought it with all his might. Everything he bought was in service of survival. All the suits, the clothing and finally the blanket. First thing he bought for himself. It may have been survival. But for the first time, it was also for his own comfort. Which he now has built all around himself. His empire. That's why he keeps the blanket, it reminds him of the first time he felt warmth. He found his way past all the traps, the poison and he's a free man. I wish to be like my father one day.