Life is meaning less.

Will you kill yourself for doing something that you have always wanted to do? No? Meet the man who did exactly that. Vincent Van Gogh, the artist I love the most. The man had never known success in his life. Never were his works really admired till his death.

In 1890, after painting ‘Wheat field with crows’, which is arguably the most intense of his paintings, Van Gogh shot himself, supposedly claiming that this work was his best and he can’t better himself again. He was a deeply depressed man through out his life and the argument over what his illness was still continues, even after more than 100 years after his death. That makes me think: if such a ‘mad’ man can create something so intense and so timeless, why have not we had another artist of such intensity from millions of ‘normal’ people born after him? Some say the intensity probably was because of his ‘madness’. F*** ‘em all!! To say that is just unthinkably foolish denial of the genius and passion of one of the greatest artists the world has ever produced. Then what does separate such men from us – the mere mortals?

Why do we often feel depressed in spite of all the material wealth that we have surrounded us with? Why we are so poorer in our souls in spite of the riches we have acquired? Why do we often desperately try to search for the ‘meaning’ of our lives? Are we getting our priorities wrong?

Passion. Probably that is the one important factor that sets them apart. Most of us die without ever finding something that fires us. Something that we would happily give our lives for. And then we complain about the grayness of life.

More often than not, we do things in anticipation of rewards (monetary as well as otherwise) from the outside. A double-digit hike in the salary. A small appreciative smile from the boss. A big hug from a friend. How often have we done something for making just ourselves and not anybody else happy? (I can see some sinister smiles from you perverts out there. But guys, I am talking about happiness, not pleasure – though for many, it might mean the same)

I bet you can experience such pristine happiness only when you create something. It might be building a complex, path-breaking rocket technology. Or seemingly mundane task of preparing a sambhar. So if it is not what we create, then what is that which really matters? The very act of creation. The emphasis is more on the journey itself rather than the final destination. Now comes the moment of truth. The judgment I am going to give (I know it is stupid to pass such a quick judgment on such a huge question that has plagued man’s mind since he started having one. But I have the right to be, since this is my blog!) is the most clichéd and the most easily overlooked: Enjoy every moment. Change the way you feel about what you do. Voilà! You would say “I am the happiest man in the world.” Just like Suryah in the movie, SOK (previously JOK).

Okay. It is not as easy as I portray it to be. But, that is not a reason strong enough to keep us from starting.

The meaning of life is what we give to it.

Tailpiece:
One of my aims (in fact, the only one in my life) is to learn oil painting and recreate one of Van Gogh’s masterpieces, preferably Cafe Terrace at Night or Wheat Field with Crows. I am sure I am going to fail terribly. But as I said, what we go through is more important than where we end up.