Where Am I?

Most of you think that I am stoned ,but alas I am not. These are few of the questions which suddenly appear whenever I am reading anything related to Space, Galaxy, Stars, Planets, Big Bang Theory, String Theory, M Theory and don’t know what all.

Imagine a theory, I will take the most popular one, Big Bang Theory. It talks about the beginning of something. Something which created all the galaxies; that too billions of them. And then it talks about expansion and how it took for someone like me to be writing this article. I am not really convinced by it. Don’t worry, I will not go into mathematical theories. But, imagine this, at some point something exploded somewhere. This simple beginning of Big Bang Theory itself is so perplexing. I keep asking myself. What exploded and where? What is space? Is it the real infinite or it has boundaries too? How big it has to be for containing eleven billion galaxies which are spaced out so well that in near future and within our limited scope of knowledge and view, no two galaxies seem to be colliding with each other. And amidst all this, all these incidents happening at a very short time on a very huge timeline, I exist, counting seconds, minutes, hours and years, trying to make sense of almost seventy years of my life.

For billions of years, these planets and stars haven’t been able to make any particular sense to me. I mean I just know that they exist. But I really never understood their importance. For me, they just exist. They are floating in time, and with them I am too. Giving them company for a very short span, yet trying to make myself of some importance, value. What am I? Probably a tiny dot of diameter not more than one nanometre on this timeline, may be even less. On occasions like these, I lose faith in life. Not that I develop any kind of suicidal tendencies, but I find every action as worthless, every inactive second looks as good as an active one.

Where am I? Why am I here? Just to live? To get entangled in the trivial issues of my small life like jobs, families, friends, alcohol, weed? I think it got a little more smaller than I intended and the reader might argue that there were people like Abraham Lincoln, Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Dalai Lama, Hitler (well he did do something, good or bad will be discussed some other day) and so many others, they really achieved something big. I ask you really? Is that your definition of big? Doesn’t it depend from where are you seeing all this? Imagine a star, lets a Pole Star watching all this, do you think its still big? Isn’t it a joke for Pole Star, wouldn’t he see this as trivial matters of few billion people on earth? We talk so passionately of humanity; it’s amazing to notice the same humanity was non-existent some two thousand years ago and yet we ignore the earth, literally rape it, digging it deeper and deeper everyday, raping it through every hole we can create either its beneath out feet for resources or holes in our atmosphere which we created. We.

I am not saying it’s a good thing or bad thing to treat the earth the way we do. Maybe its plain necessity for our existence. My question is – Does it even matter? Look at the beginning of all this. It’s a vague explosion of something somewhere. The way this story starts might not be one of the best starts of any great story, or may be it is, but it sure makes every incident after it completely immaterial.

We are may be one line of a book which is not even complete. Without us, the book would never be what it is, but without the book, what are we if not just intangible forms of some form. I always travel from a place to a place, but this journey started somewhere and will end, may not end at all. Where are these boundaries defined? Does space has boundaries, are there more spaces floating together in one large space? Are there galaxies of spaces too? I wish I knew where am I? What’s my real address? But I don’t. I just continue to float, sometimes without even realizing that I am, entangled in my wishes, relations, fears, joys and sorrows. Amidst this meaningless life, what can really be so meaningful to wish for that one could call it truly worth it? A happy life, a satisfied death?

I don’t know, and this time I wouldn’t say I don’t care. I do care. I do care to know my purpose, my role, because the way I see it, it’s a lot easier to do something when you know what exactly is that something.

So here am I, more confused than ever over my own existence, mulling over the worthlessness of life. I don’t know if it can happen or not, but I guess it would really be worth it, truly worth it if I could be there when we float so far that we finally touch the boundary of our space with a joint in my hand. It would be one hell of a scene I guess. My roomie says he cant really promise touching the boundary part, but joint he has and he wouldn’t mind sharing! I say that's a good purpose to give up blabbering here!