Crisis

Crisis

Shreeamey Phadnis

1970, Pune

After shifting to Pune for college, Priyadarshan was flummoxed. The days seemed longer than his will to endure them. He had begun developing strange notions of life. Existence for the sake of existence. No higher meaning, no greater depth. There are things that need doing, tasks that need completion, bills that need payment and minds that need repair. A constant strife between what is and what could be. The struggle of an everyman’s judgement of life that is open for everyone to see. Some live to fear, some live to cherish, some live to die one day, and some just live. There are those who manage to squeeze in more life into each day than is good for them. Others wither away silently like a premature yawn. In the midst of this all, Priyadarshan had every reason and chance to become a hyper-nihilist. Indeed, we all do at times.

He felt as though he had gone through a profound change. Revelations that he never knew of were for the taking. He had hardly attended any classes in college. This contributed to most of his actual education. He would roam the streets in Pune, discovering places. Meeting random people, having meals with them. Occasionally going to their homes and meeting more strangers in turn. Anything and everything was possible. Priyadarshan kept away from college on account of his two principle aversions – education and bad food. The mess owner Mr. ‘Potata’ Pai made generous use of the jolly, rotund, tan coloured root in just about everything on the menu. The potato is no alternative to mutton! Preposterous. The potato is not an alternative for anything, really. So Priyadarshan steadily discovered better options for eating out (or eating in, as it were) in Pune.

He was staying in his uncle’s modest accommodation at Ramanbaug. He received a decent monthly stipend from Swamirao (as did the uncle). Priyadarshan even bought a cycle for himself. It wasn’t a Yezdi, but then something was better than nothing. He also made some new friends in Pune. He tried enjoying this new phase of his life; he really did. On the other hand, he was not so sure of what he felt, and sometimes even felt damned.

20 Yours Truly

And while my options I do weigh, The guiding voice of chaos speaks, Stop or henceforth havoc I wreak.”

And he repeated once again “Ab bas.”

24 Yours Truly