It’s 4 am. I’m lying in my bed, deep in thought. It’s amazing, the capacity of the human mind, like an infinite labyrinth of emotions and expectations, regrets and refusals. It’s particularly unavoidable when you are in your fourth year of college to trudge along the other side of the silver lining. So there I am thinking about my duties, my family, the previous day, and the little hustles of everyday routine. I lie there and imagine what my life would be like when I’m 40. I paint a picture for myself, one very similar to that of Dorian Gray’s.
I see myself successful, and my version of success means owning a lot of money. I live in a well-furnished house in the middle of a city. It is a house that I cannot call a home. The house has a view of towering skyscrapers and roads crowded with men and women rushing to offices, dressed in depressing colours. All those people out there have one common notion – to make money, please the bosses, rob the poor and invent technology that destroys the world. It’s strange that the city I lived in was selfish and even stranger that I was a part of it. Somehow, even with all the cash flowing into the city, there is no cheer and colour. The canvas is painted in gloom and in shades of gray. It is a queasy sensation, co-existing without knowing the meaning of coexistence. Everything is so compact and planned, like how the present day sci-fi movies portray our future cities. It makes me suffocate.
My mind feels trapped. I have to close a door to open another. I wonder how it would be to walk along the river or in a park filled with children. I get out of my room and push my way through the crowded lane. I reach the park. I see nothing but empty swing sets and see-saws looking so forlorn. Of course, what a fool could I be? Children preferred bright mobile screens to useless swing sets these days. I miss my childhood, the feel of the bare ground, grass tickling my sole as I race barefoot to get on one of the swings before another kid occupies it. The feeling of whooshing air, speeding with every push forward, laughter in the background, the smell of vanilla wafting from the nearest bakery. I felt lucky to have been born in an era where technology did not rule. But now, my painting misses the smile and touch of human kindness. Everywhere, in the shops, at the reception, on the streets, in the houses, there are robots with their annoying voices. Yes, in my city, robots and AI rule.
There must be something good about my painting to talk about. My mind searches in futile. A tingling feeling of heavy guilt enters my heart. Here I am protected by values, ethics and standards that were preached to me all life long and in another place, I see for myself, those same set of values and standards that the society set cause nothing but war and war. I shut my eyes tight, as if I could turn away from the atrocities, make myself think it’s for the greater good. I remember reading the work of a wise man and the lines go like this: “Fair is foul and foul is fair, Hover through the fog and filthy air”. Well, it’s exactly as he described it.
I see against my will a million dreams as mine burning down to soot, I see pain in innocent eyes. It makes my heart bleed. Here I am, frowning upon food that’s healthy and there I see babies as thin as they could be, the skin clinging to the skeleton. A curse is upon this world, this i am sure of.
I sit down on the park bench and look around, observe. I see no trees, no sparrows playing by the fountain. Outside the city walls, I see nothing but miles of garbage dumped in the open. I see a mother dog going through all that waste just so she can feed her pups. Beyond that, where was land once, there is salty sea water, muddy black in colour. It joined the ocean as if poisoning it against will. On the shore, I see dead fish piled for miles. The foul stench attracts worms and scavengers. And with them comes the plague and disease.
I am quite scared now, of my so called “successful future”. This is not what I want. Sure, I have money, but never enough of it to buy humanity or empathy or compassion. Those things cannot be bought and I revere them precious. Now I realize, I do not want all the riches in world, I just want the simple things in life. I want a world where nature rules, where there is no war, no greed. A world without hunger. A world so happy, filled with love, where I can finally rest in peace and say I did the right thing. And for this to happen, I have to practice it. Therefore it’s my new year’s resolution to be more compassionate and empathetic. To practice humanity and to save what’s left of the future.
If you know the story of Dorian Gray, you already know that the picture has been painted. You can only stop the destruction of your existence by changing yourself. That’s what I am set to do. A new year with a new mission.
