Paradise

Who wants to be sad? Nobody. Happiness or even the illusion of it are driving energies of life. That is one explanation of why everyone adores money. We can buy the path to happiness at least. Yet, not a single soul has walked on earth including the first beings whose hearts were devoid of sorrow. Our sorrows give shape to what we consider happiness. A man with no son and only daughters in the subcontinent has a different definition of happiness than a man who has only sons. Happiness is a guest that stays inside our souls and eventually departs. Sorrows are long staying tenants we want to kick out at times.
Yesterday, I had a talk with Baba that branched out to the afterlife and the ideas of Paradise and Hell. In his definition, sorrow and shock can never enter paradise. The heart of Paradise dweller is devoid of these feelings. The idea has allured men. On the opposite, it saddened me and brought another tenant to live in. How can I kick someone now who has lived a life at a place and has called it his own? How can I evict a tenant who has lived longer than any friend has? These sorrows have grown strong than those claimed to love. Can you kick an old friend out? Would you?

Calls

How often do we record our conversations? There exist laws in different geographies that don’t allow this while in others they require to inform all the participants in a call about being recorded. iOS users don’t enjoy this perk in the first place as Apple, being what it has become, does not allow recording phone calls in the first place. Workarounds for this do exist, however. The rescue teams rush to the site of a plane crash and try to find the plane’s black box and survivors alike. In earlier days, diagnostics including the plane’s altitude, remaining distance, and fuel were recorded on a thin metal plate inside the black box. With time things have gone digital. More than a hundred diagnostics about an aircraft are being recorded including voice recordings from inside the cockpit. All of this helps to understand the events leading to the disaster and also to avoid such tragedies in the future. Our phones are very much like these black boxes. They hold secrets to our lives and their secrets. Yet, only a very tiny segment of users thinks to record their conversations. Texts and letters have a longer half-life than voice and video calls. These calls become a memory as soon as they end. Still that feeling of listening to a call that happened ten years ago or seeing a video call from that time brings back a flood of emotions that can never be explained. Are we wise enough to document every call we make, every video conversation we give life to, every text, and every chat we breathe into our phones? 

A drama titled CALLS is a story with every episode about a different person that is narrated through their recordings. It triggered this writing. I am neither wise enough nor brave enough to record everything. Still documenting is what brought knowledge to our hearts and we would not be honest until we document our lives and fill a black box for those who come after us. Just make sure it is big enough to hold all loved ones and all grudges together.