Are we really living?

Are we really living?

As absurd as it might sound, I intend to ask this question. I really do. And that is because I feel we have stopped living for a while now. Since years ago, I believe most of the humanity has taken a step back from creativity to consumerism. By this I mean it seems the world has now become a growing crowd of customers and consumers. I feel that the craze of owning the latest model of the iPhone series has become a greater passion for a teenager than that of may be learning a newer technology. That the fragile satisfaction of wearing branded clothes for a little girl has had an upper hand over the satisfaction of weaving her first wool, for a while now. I feel that having dinner at an expensive restaurant has now got a greater stature in the society than that of having a warm family get together. That owning a huge house is now considered to be a greater asset than having a joint family.

It scares me, but in a way it also makes us all look foolish. There’s something we all need to really contemplate upon. ‘Does possessing stuff give us happiness or enjoying those does?’

I often feel we have become passive. Owning things is saturating our urges and deteriorating our efforts. We don’t realise that on our death bed, none of these material achievements are going to come handy in exchange of the life we lost to time and the time we wasted on not-living. A huge businessman who had had his savings gathered all this time, at the edge of his lifetime would wish he had taken a break from all the work and actually enjoyed what he earned, wouldn’t he? An old professor who took his profession to be too practical, at the time of his retirement would probably wish he had spent some light quality time with his students and taught them teachings off the book, wouldn’t he? The old lady who spent her lifetime in serving her new family post marriage would wish she had spent some time living for herself because well, it was her life after all, wouldn’t she? Haven’t we heard students in their mere 20’s talk about how they wish they could have one more chance to start over in life because they feel they were too dumb not to enjoy the little moments of childhood?

Why is it that we always look back in life and wish we had LIVED? And at the other times we wish for the future. What about what we have right now? Wise men say, ‘it doesn’t matter how much we have, what matters is what we do with what we have.’ All of us have been running after success, which according to me, doesn’t even exist on its own. Success is a relative term. For a dancer success is a perfect step and for a writer success is his readers relating to his work. In the same way, for a daily-wager success is to get work for the particular day and bring bread to home, while for an MNC’s owner it is to have higher profit rates in world market. We are using up our lives for something that isn’t even absolute. And the only thing worse is that owning the new iPhone, wearing branded clothes, having meals in fancy expensive restaurants and  possessing a huge house is somehow, considered to be signs of success. I, in no way, mean to say having all this is wicked and it wouldn’t have been so obliterating if it didn’t result into people underestimating the real pleasures of life that join us when we stop running and start LIVING.

No degrees, no heavy bank accounts no number of luxury cars and no fame can bring us the happiness that watching our parents smile or talking to our best friends or having a night walk in the rain with our love or holding our baby for the first time can give. When we get that feeling of peace and satisfaction and when we have that one smile when we are happy from our heart, that is what we really need. And you know what; we don’t need to run for it. All we need to do is live. So let’s stop running and start living. It’s much easier and much more effective, trust me.  Let’s not wait for the days to come to regret the days we lost. Let’s all live, laugh and do what we would if there were no bondage's because, there aren’t. 

-Akshat Vyas