For the want of a cause

It now seems worthwhile to live for a cause. In fact, that is the only life that seems worthwhile.

But not so long ago, I used to talk deprecatingly about people who needed a cause to live - mostly, a relationship. I have advised many a love-lorn girl friend that it is silly to think that you cannot live without a certain somebody. I used to despise naxalites and ardent religious men alike. For the record, I even used to scorn Shaari for commiting suicide in Oru May Maasa Pulariyil.

I built my life around the funda that happiness comes from within and nobody or nothing should be given the control or power to decide your mental state. Now I have a neat life, to be honest. Not a blip in the radar. It's a perfect balance of career, family and friends; responsibilities and fun; no uncertainties for a long time to come.

But now I am missing purpose. And thinking how fulfilling it would be to live for a cause. But you need the courage to be exposed; to be vulnerable; to be misused, misunderstood; to be unacknowledged; to be responsible for acting on your hunches; to travel down the off-beat path; to hear people say to you "I told you so."

I wish I had the courage to do that. To have taken some risks with my life; to have let go and let the cause take charge. Looking back, it's been a safe game all along. All the tried and tested moves; all the dependable choices.

But this lifestyle choice was not only because I was afraid of risks. I did not get my call. No cause beckoned. Nothing pained me, outraged me or moved me enough to want to change it. Poverty, child abuse, exploitation of nature - all seemed sort of removed from my world during the time when I was at crossroads in my life.

But as long as there is life, there is hope, isnt there, that one day, I will peel off the warm gloves of routine and start feeling alive again.