Train Of Thought

By Meher Randeria

“But why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why do you have this much energy? Shouldn’t you be half dead by now?”

“No clue kid.”

I look at her incredulously. Well, that killed off my enthusiasm. I rarely get myself enthused. For anything.

How does one mention the topic of death and existentialism in a conversation, shifting the entire mood to a serious and somber one, then apologizing and changing it back to good old, lighthearted quipping? At least, I think it was a joke. Adrenaline rushes are common, right?

I lean back on the bench, momentarily forgetting all the dirty, grubby people that have sat here, waiting for the bus- just as I am now. Speaking of the bus, where is that rickety, old thing? Been waiting here for half an hour. I had timed it perfectly: woke up at eight-thirty, ready at nine, left the house at nine-oh-five (all in the A.M.) for the bus that was supposed to be here at nine-ten (again, A.M.).

‘Tis now nine-forty-three A.M. and the vital public transportation vehicle has decided to stand us up.

The sheer gall of it. They think they can just keep talking and making empty promises, like showing up on time, just to cover up their tracks when they do not deliver- all because we are too polite and will not say a bad word against it. In fact, I might go as far as to say, we would console them! It is not their fault for being late, no. The tire had been feeling flat, or they ran over some little old lady and they had to stop to help her.

My wavering attention is back to my best friend who had so effortlessly shifted our conversation back to my energy levels.

I do think about it a lot. Why am I this hyper in the mornings when I do not really sleep at night? Not properly, anyway. Special thanks to our school system! And anxiety. And loneliness. And fear of the dark. All that fun stuff. Without coffee, mind you. Also, why do we fear the dark? I think it stems from humanity’s fear of the unknown and our constant need to go out and explore more. It is why we started sailing across the seas and shot up to the sky, hurtling into space. I want to go to space. I also want to study it. It is so simple yet unknowable, and effortlessly complex. It piques my interest just enough to become entirely obsessed with it.

Back to the reason for my previous excitement. Death and existentialism. I love discussing this with people. It fascinates me. The hilarious look on some faces when a fifteen-year-old brings up the topic, and starts talking sense about it, is priceless.

On one hand, I know that death is only meaningful once you have lived. ‘We all have two lives. The second one begins when we realize we only have one.’ And you die after that, when you know you have truly lived life how you wanted to. On the other hand, you will not be around to appreciate the sentiment. What you leave behind for other people is your legacy: the good, the bad, and the ugly.

But what if we all died at the same time. Just ceased to exist. It really should not matter then, right? All the twisted politics and wars and charitable deeds and extra-curriculars would not make a sliver of difference. Unless you are a genius and found a way to save yourself from the fatal existential crisis that has killed off the entire world.

While I articulated this aloud, a nice-looking lady in formal wear walked past us, not before giving me a wide-eyed stare as she sipped her venti Starbucks hot drink, to contrast the unseasonably cold spring morning. Again, priceless.

Why is it so taboo for young kids to wonder about these things? ‘Curiosity killed the cat.’ Firstly, we are wondering what it would be like, not actively trying to find a way to commit global genocide. Secondly, that phrase is not correct. In Schrödinger’s experiment, the experimenter does not know if the cat in the box is alive or dead because if they do open the box, there is a chance that they will die. So, the poor cat is just a test subject that had its life snatched away from it. Its curiosity killed the cruel scientist. Not that I have anything against scientists, I want to be one when I grow up. Funny phrase, isn’t it? ‘Growing up.’ Like we even stand a chance of having a true childhood.

I have an abnormal train of thought. Blame it on the adrenaline.

By Meher Randeria