Yes, sanity has its moments. Without a sane mind and mouth, man cannot survive life’s tempestuous moodiness. But an excess of it, a lifetime of it, an endless sea of it? Waking up daily to a list of chores, the lack of ups and the lack of downs, politeness and pleasantries day in and day out… will surely condemn anyone to hell.
A dash of madness, a bit of kooky, that land of nonsense we own in mental real estate, is of equal importance. While reason and rationality cannot ever be condemned or belittled, a lack of the funnies in the 24 long hours of an entire day renders even the strongest human being simply too sane, too normal. We have to have a giggle now and then, loosen the corset and put up feet.
One needs madness to live on, to find magic in everyday drudgery, in the boring sameness of jobs, in never-ending marriages, in kids who are our frankest critics, in the rent and the roof. If head is permanently crystal-clear and breath never speeding or slowing, if the heartbeat is always rock-solid and steady, then we are sure to live long and healthy but, oh, what a tall mountain of dullness we climb…. What can we ever say to anyone that will be remotely interesting? The drama of us, of being this person that only we can be, will be lost on everyone.
Sobriety is a long, tortuous journey, with life a hot-headed, sulky, pouting, dissatisfied mistress, demanding yet another diamond bracelet. And sex is too little compensation for going on day after day, sleepless night after sleepless night, thinking today is invariably followed by tomorrow, which will definitely be followed by the day after, and so on till we die! What tomfoolery is this that we hope and pine and go on, our broken hearts held together with safety pins, crossing roads after looking right and looking left, sure only that we can be counted on to do the right thing at the right time, say the right thing to the right person.
We doubt, as we surely must sooner or later, that the grand prize for all this right living – touted by all religions as a permanent address in Heaven once we die – is too iffy to comfort us in the here and now. That’s too vague a compensation for giving up one’s right to play truant, to paint a bad painting, write a terrible poem, sing badly to unsuspecting strangers.
Our best-laid plans are anyway subject to sudden change. There is the coronovirus, Sushant’s death, Rhea’s T-shirt… the list of what we have to deal with on a daily basis just grows longer and longer! Who can cope without a little intoxication, a piece of gossip, a keen sense of the absurd, a belly laugh?
Admit it – don’t you just long to get out of your straightly mapped out life for just one afternoon, ignore the sensible clothes laid out for you on the bed, and sneak out the backdoor?
Shinie Antony is a writer and editor based in Bangalore. Her books include The Girl Who Couldn't Love, Barefoot and Pregnant, Planet Polygamous, and the anthologies Why We Don’t Talk, An Unsuitable Woman, Boo. Winner of the Commonwealth Short Story Asia Prize for her story A Dog’s Death in 2003, she is the co-founder of the Bangalore Literature Festival and director of the Bengaluru Poetry Festival.
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