As a writer, I have always lived in the world of fantasies.
From the more reasonable expectations of finding love in a partner that gives you a reason to go on, to the more outlandish ones like expecting to make my international short story debut with the New Yorker -- I had and continue to have my fair share of fantasies that I like to indulge in.
But fantasies are fickle, and as elusive as ice. Come sunrise, they either reveal their glint under the glow of the new dawn, revealing all of their beauty and so much more; or they glimmer and vanish into thin air, leaving behind a haunting spectre that can only be found in Carcosa, in the minds of the habitants that were doomed to peek a glimpse at the shores of Hali.
Childhood fantasies. They can either make you, or break you. Just when I was about to give up, I found the love of my life -- Mouno -- a person who has breathed new life into me, and everything that I do. Just when I was about to give up, I started writing again, and now have a fair number of publications under my belt. They are no New Yorker, and I long for the day when I can live under the same roof with my lover, but they are not far off.
And hopefully, with some luck, and with some fair bit of work, I will get there. And with that, I was pretty content for the most part, excited for what I have and excited for what is about to come. But then, the most outlandish of my fantasies began to come true, and in the most unexpected way possible.
The classroom was alien
Before we even comprehended our place in existence, our generation were shipped off to schools, to carry on the family banner from whence our ancestors had left off. The classroom was alien, and the curriculum was uninviting. I was blessed to have some amazing teachers in the early years, but I know that most weren’t.
Amidst that gruelling schedule of homework and exams, our generation always used to look forward to December, where during the winter break, they wouldn’t have to study anything. And when the break came, it disappeared again, just like that. And amidst all that chaos, on a lonely winter evening, I wished for something to happen, so that we wouldn’t have to study ever again.
Ever since birth, I have been curious. Even now, I long to know everything there is, even if I have to pay the ultimate price for it. I always looked up at the stars, imagining all the different kind of magical beings that were living up there. And when I became an adult, and life began to shed its last drop of mystique, I desperately wished for something to be up there, to not be alone.
It was a little bit silly to want aliens to be true, I know. But within the internal logic of the universe, these mythical beings represented the last frontier of magic and mystique, a hope that there is always going to be something that our conventional wisdom won’t be able to quantify and monetize.
Free of any kind of hope
As such, even in my late teens, even when I started university, I held on to this belief. Of course, as university neared an end, I began to let go a lot of these things, as I wanted to break free of any kind of hope. But just like my encounter with Mouno -- these things began to materialize just when I had given up hope on them.
When the lockdown seemed imminent in March, I wasn’t expecting it to last the whole year. I expected a break -- true -- and I even looked forward to it. When the lockdown passed from March to April, I was still happy, since that would mean I would get more time away from my studies, and would be able to compose myself in the meantime. But as the year rolled, I finally got my first wish, and I spent a whole year not going to school.
But it wasn’t what I was expecting. In the personal realm, it screwed up my mood, my schedule, and my chances of getting regular work. It also meant that I had to study extra hard while at home, as teachers began putting more pressure on us in the second half of the year. This is what I wanted for a long time. It came true when I was least expecting it. And it came true in the most surreal way possible.
And when it comes to the collective realm, let’s not even go there. I have been very fortunate, but many people have lost it all. People I don’t know, people I know a little, and people who are close to me -- none were spared. And while I was relatively safe in my privileged bubble, for others, this year has been nothing short of catastrophic.
Tip of the iceberg
As for the second fantasy, many people don’t know this, but the Pentagon released footage of UFOs just around a month ago. The former Israeli space security chief has even come out and said that aliens are real, that governments around the world have been in contact with them for years, and that the general populace is not ready to make contact.
Now, take all of this with a grain of salt. I’m still a dreamer, but I’m a cynical realist as well. This could all be a political move of sorts, to drum up fear among the general populace. But with hushed confirmations from all over the world, and countries along the globe deploying their military to the stars, this could be very real as well.
And while this should make me happy, this makes me afraid instead. Pentagon started releasing footage like this three years ago, and when the news broke back then, I had one of the worst anxiety attacks ever in my entire life. The reasons are personal, and highly existential in nature, but it boils down to something like this -- “If there are people up there in the stars, whatever does it mean for the keeper of the heavens?”
I don’t know. I don’t have any answers for this. These are tough questions, and the answers are not going to be easy to find. But this is just the tip of the iceberg, and the world is going to change tremendously over the years. And as we look to the stars for vast new worlds, we will have to deal with the consequences of knowing too much as well.
UFO in Kushiro
Haruki Murakami is a celebrated author all over the world, but his greatest work for me is “after the quake.” In it, he opens with a very weird short story titled “UFO in Kushiro.” In the last century, Japan was going through a time of both cultural and economic prosperity, but everything gets changed with the 1995 Kobe earthquake.
The protagonist of the story leads a stable life, with a good job and a happy marriage. But when his wife dies in the quake, he represses that memory, and convinces himself that she divorced him. He goes to Kushiro, to simultaneously run an errand for a friend, and get his mind off of things. Once there, he hears the strange tale of a mother of two disappearing without a trace when she sees a UFO.
He also has sex with a girl, who recalls a weird experience of having sex in the snow, surrounded by a man eating bears in the woods. Well, 1995 repeated itself, and while we try to go on with our lives as if nothing happened, the bears are circling all around us. Then again, that’s life. Some won’t even notice the bears, some will get out with some scratches, and some will disappear, after a chance encounter with the unexpected.
There really isn’t a one-size-fits-all approach here, and the lottery of birth plays a strong part. But at the end of the day, I guess the most optimal approach out of the woods is to not look at anything else, and run straight out.
And since we are humans, I guess we will do the opposite.
Nafis Shahriar is a student of business and a freelance writer.
