I would rather die of passion than of boredom, said Vincent Van Gogh. He was a great artist. Sadly, he did not know it. I know I am a great artist, and that’s why I am not. What if, one sunny day, a flower realises that it is actually beautiful? That would be the end of her beauty. In this big world of ours which exists in an even bigger universe, humility is a jewel. And you wouldn’t know it, if you truly had it. That is the paradox. 

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I was bored. Bored, in the most frightening and depressing sense. Ever since I was a kid, I was taught to receive each day as a blessing; a new beginning. I had it instilled in my heart and would try to practice this every day. My personal experiences, however, told me something else. Each day wasn’t a blessing and certainly, not a new beginning. I must have been much happier before my parents thrust this thought—each day is a blessing—into my head. Because ever since I was introduced to this belief, I have been struggling day in and day out to resemble my day to day life to that holy thought but to no avail, which makes me even more depressed and helpless. 

How can I receive each day as a blessing when I have to work tirelessly to pay the rent and electricity bill? How can I feel that each day is a new beginning when I am stuck in the same place since time immemorial? Life isn’t all rainbows and sunshine. The human condition would have been much warmer had we not been conditioned to believe in countless mental fabrications, like happiness, love, bliss. Happiness is not the purpose of life. No, in reality, the purpose of life is to work so that we can afford food and shelter. Love does not make our life meaningful. It is an addiction. Its fleeting presence makes people its slave. As a result, people do the most terrible and inhuman acts in the name of love. There is no such thing called enlightenment. It is just something that offers false hope to innocent people. 

I was bored but I didn’t want to die because of it. I was frustrated with life but I didn’t want to give up so easily. In a way, those words by Gogh kept me going. As I went through my days, I kept telling myself that I would rather die of passion than of boredom. 

And then it started snowing. 

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New York came to a halt due to the snow blizzard. The city was blanketed in snow. All the places were shut down. The vehicles were off the road. Our restaurant was closed. 

I felt suffocated inside the room. I was tired of staring at the walls and ceiling of my tiny room in the basement. I was tired of indulging myself in the same old thoughts. One of the worst things that can happen to anyone is to get lost in their thoughts. There is no escape. No one can help you find your way out but yourself. In fact, there is no way out. Your mind plays games with you. It is a maze of imagination. And the idea of losing yourself in your thoughts is another imagination. How can you solve a problem that is in your head? It needn’t be solved, I guess. Upon seeing the entire process of how the mind plays games on you, one can be liberated. But then again, liberation would be another imagination, another figment of thought. 

I wore my big North Face jacket, put on a woollen hat and threw a muffler around my neck. I put on my boots and walked out of my room. My roommate was watching a movie in the living room with his friends. They were laughing and drinking hot sake. All of them looked merry. 

“Where are you going?” said my roommate. “It is cold outside.”

“Just for a walk, will be right back,” I said, and climbed the stairs that led to the front door. 

Friends. I don’t have any friends. I could name a few but I find my company more comfortable than anyone else’s. I enjoy my aloneness. Sometimes, however, I get tired of myself and the irritating feeling of loneliness sneaks in on me; creeping in through my feet, thighs, belly, until it finally settles down on the left side of my chest. During such moments, I hate myself. I curse my introversion. I curse my elusive personality. But that’s how I am. I can’t help being myself no matter what. 

As I walked the street piled with snow, puffing a cigarette, for the first time in so many months, I finally felt at home. Everywhere I looked, I saw snow. Everywhere I listened, I heard silence. 

Snow… Silence… Why do I feel so close to you? You make my heart feel so many things all at once. And I cherish every iota of it. You make me feel things I never thought I could feel. I feel like I have finally found the mystical substance to fill up the holes in my heart. I feel like I have finally found that particular needle that can sew my fragmented dreams and turn it into a beautiful tapestry. I feel my heart breaking open. I feel I am melting into the universe. I feel like the sky that can embrace everything. I feel so many things and all of them are absolutely beautiful.

The streets were empty. The street lamps, trees, cars, rooftops were all covered with snow. Flakes upon flakes of snow kept falling silently, patiently the entire day, the entire night.

That evening, I felt truly alive.  

It was the fire of passion that kept me warm inside. As I walked the street back and forth, many things crossed my mind. My dreams, my aims, my obsession and all those things that is close to my heart. Participating in the hustle and bustle of this city, I had forgotten about them completely. And it made me sad. Suddenly, in a blink, I began to see beauty everywhere. Smoking had never felt so good. I felt better and better with each puff. Finally, after walking for quite a while, I sat down on the ground on the snow.

And the silence became more deafening. I watched the trees and listened to the sound the wind made as it stroke the branches laden with snow. I watched a giant lump of snow fall off the branch, breaking into a thousand flakes. I had never felt so good. 

I headed back to my room and changed into warm clothes. I felt like celebrating. I went to the living room and joined my friend’s friends and they welcomed me warmly. The glasses kept on filling and emptying until I was fully drunk. 

“Life is beautiful,” I said.

Cheers.