There was a point in my life, a few years ago when I was obsessed with knowing absolutely everything. About objects, places and people. Earlier it was driven by curiosity, but it soon became a habit which I sustained for a long time. There needed to be a closure on things and it gave me a brilliant satisfaction which I cannot possibly explain in words. And I am sure few of us would have been in a similar situation.
A couple of years back I read Jhumpa Lahiri's 'The Enterpreter of Maladies'. While this brilliant short story collection was headlined by the maladies story, it was 'A Temporary Matter' which captured me like no other short story has ever before. It had an errie melancholy driving it, something which attracted and repulsed me at the same time. Which brings me back to my original point, what and how much information is enough? When do I stop knowing, when to pull the plug on this barrage of knowingness flowing around me, end to end. And should I?
With time I have realized, that there is nothing in totality that exists. The further you delve into something, more likely it is that you are going to encounter better or worse sides of things and people. And thus in most scenarios, it is a good idea to stop one step before things go either way: if it becomes better you expect more coming your way, and if it goes south you are increasingly hesitant of exploring further next time.
And thus, unlike Shobha and Shukumar, I'd rather switch on the lights and walk off, instead of sitting and weeping for the things that I know of.
Amen.
