Mind and I - The search for perfection ..

The below , is a little discussion between my mind and I.
The topic - perfection.


August 12th, exactly two fortnights ago.
Time: 7:45 p.m.

Up next is the third speaker, said the Toastmaster that day as well, and up came this chap and muttered a few good words. Sat down to a nice warm round of applause.

That chap was me, and as I sat down that day on that very chair, my mind asked me a question.

MIND : Question time it said, and the question : That speech of yours, that ice breaker of yours, was that speech the perfect ice breaker or could you have done better ?”

PERSON : I didn’t know what to say. At that instant however came the need to define what this 10 letter word meant: “perfection”. One week later, and I still had few answers. I asked five different people, got five different answers. Referred three dictionaries, and believe it or not, I got three different definitions.

According to the definition which hit me the most however, was that of the Webster’s Online Dictionary. It defined perfection, and I quote, “Perfection is a state of being without a flaw or defect, of doing something the best ( perfectly ).”

MIND : That was good. Very good. Next question : Why do we crave for it ? Isn’t perfection something unattainable ?

PERSON : You know I’ve always wondered why we ever got into this addiction to perfection. One of my friends told me this theory and I agreed to it: From the times of Adam and Eve, we all know that as humans, we are characteristically “imperfect”. And we also know that as humans, we have this craving to be what we are not. And simple as it sounds, that is exactly why, we crave, to be perfect in what we do. Perfect in what we are.

MIND : Good one there, wasn’t it ? Well then answer this: Is perfection ever possible in human life, or is it just a theoretical concept with no place in our day to day lives?

PERSON : Saturday 16 August sitting at home in the evening, I watched my answer unfurl in front of me, or rather as I would put it, ran in front of me. In exactly 9.69 seconds, Usain Bolt and his stunning 100m gold medal run at the Beijing Olympics put my mind to rest. That to me, was perfect. The perfect race. And I discovered too then that history indeed had many examples of this phenomena we called perfection.

MIND : Oh OK, wait a minute. That was Usain Bolt. So before they think of this as a sermon on the art of perfection, Stop.
Let me inform you that there are some things in life that can perhaps never be perfect.
The perfect job for example. The perfect body. The perfect computer. And for all of us working folk, the perfect boss?
And yes, Mr. Bachelor, What do you think of the perfect life partner, husband, wife ?

PERSON : A ‘right ,I will not answer that question of the perfect life partner, because I can already see a smile on the faces of the married ones here, and I‘m a little bit confused about what these smiles actually say.

No but seriously, as I thought of all this, things were slowly coming full circle.

I knew what perfection was, knew that it was possible and not just a concept; I also had in front of me limitations of this perfect theory now that I’d realized everything in life couldn’t be perfect.

And then I got the answer. There was no such thing as a perfect speech. Every speech had its flaws, every speech had its own very “perfect” moments, and every speech had its own beauty. Antoine de Saint-Exupery, the French writer once said, “Perfection is achieved, not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing left to take away.”

My mind and I were slowly becoming one. The question cleared in every sense. Ah, as my mind would put it, things were now perfect.

Long Drive - The tale of a tired driver

Beads of sweat dripped down my face. It was an unusually hot February afternoon. 37 degrees it flashed on FILA digital watch. 45 minutes. Exactly the time I had waited for a taxi. Where were the Air Conditioned Bus stops when you needed them anyways? Taxis zoomed by – empty, and yet, unwilling. Asian passengers, as my class was known, weren’t very welcome.
I was now beginning to feel like an over baked pancake. Just then, a taxi appeared. In despair, I did not dare tell the taxi driver my final destination – Sharjah. I asked him instead, where he could drop me off. With a smile, he said, “Anywhere Sir. My pleasure.” I sat down with a hush.
I decided however that day in the taxi, I needed a drive. It was time for my long drive. The drive towards what was to be my tormentor in chief for the next 6 months. The seven letter tormentor – License.
Chapter One – The wait.
It felt like eternity. Various reasons were given. From the unavailability of instructors, to someone’s mistake not processing my papers. I waited patiently. Nothing I could do, except wait. One of my colleagues at work, Badre Maktari commented, “You know Shrikant, gone are the days when you could get things when you had money. Welcome to a world today where you could have all the money in the world and you’d still be at the mercy of some other inefficient buffoon working 9-6.” One “surprising” Monday morning, I got the call. She said, “Sir, your classes start this Friday.” On other days, I might have realized that the female voice on the other side was refreshingly sweet. Almost sexy. Not this time. I breathed a sigh of relief. It would start, finally.
Chapter Two – My first date.
I’d never been so nervous. I was going for my first date – with the car that would teach me the art of driving. Turned out to be a damp squib. This one was like dreaming about dinner with Angelina Jolie and getting a 60 year old woman old enough to be your grandmother. A wretched experience, because each time I tried to crank it up either my instructor, or my car wouldn’t let me. It was like driving a car with the engine of a motorcycle. All of two hours it lasted in the Nissan Sunny.
Chapter Three – The dream.
And then came the big day. Four months after my first date, I arrived surprisingly confident for my first test. My name was called, Shraikant Kilaakar he said, which I correctly deciphered to be mine. Got to know that I would be the third driver.
Somehow, I knew then I wouldn’t pass. Because I’d dreamt of the moment for the past two weeks. In the dream, I was the first driver, and I had passed.
For that moment though, I put all thoughts aside. Sat and drove for all of two minutes. All it was: Sit, drive, U turn, Stop. And that was it. I was handed this funny looking A4 sheet, with lots of circles on it, and well, FAIL it was.
Chapter Four – Gotcha.
The thirteenth day of the ninth month said the calendar. You are first he said, and hell was I happy! Would my dream come true, I wondered. And heck, it did. PASS he said after the drive.
Finally, I’d got it. I clutched the paper, and said, Gotcha!
Epilogue
1.30 p.m., 13 October.
Beads of sweat drip down my face. It is a hot October afternoon. 37 degrees it flashes on my new ALBA digital watch. Taxis honk at me, asking where I want to go. I point out to a nearby car, and say No Thank you. It’s my first car – the Mitsubishi Galant. All of 4 days old. So, why is it that I stand here? Waiting, because another driver has bumped his car into me and run away. So here I stand once again, waiting. Only this time, since I have a license, I have a car, I wait for the police.
Ah, if only I didn’t have this dreaded license, I wouldn’t have the car; I’d have hopped onto a taxi and zoomed off.
But here I am, stuck. Stuck - with my long drive. Ah, did I hear the police somewhere?