My Ivory Tower

I would often wake up in middle of the night purely out of excitement - excitement that had lost its cause in obscurity. The feeling was intense - my heart would throb heavily, my body would be taken over by a feeling of sprightly restlessness and I would feel this strong urge to involve myself in some activity. I almost always read a book or began to write something down on a piece of paper. I would calm down after about thirty minutes or occasionally one hour; my circadian rhythm would get back into action and make me sleepy again.

It was a prelude to my bipolarity spreading out to the extremes; and I am so glad it began on a high note. I knew something was slightly abnormal, but the feeling was good and I just let the chips fall where they may. I didn't have a strong social or philosophical bent of mind. My thought process was unilateral - I just did what I liked to do. 

Most of the time I felt as if a thrill of restive energy had shot through my body. It just wouldn't let up. Every single second I was awake, I was constantly in action. I was always learning something new. 

Languages:

I loved learning new languages. I learnt a bit of French from my dad's book 'French Made Easy'. I learnt how to read Russian (and basic Russian greetings). I polished up whatever Kannada I had learnt during my days in Bangalore and picked up a bunch of other Indian languages reading the multilingual leaflets that came with most of PnG or HUL products. I could only read the text in these languages without comprehending anything, but even doing this bit slaked my desire to a certain extent. 

[Ironically, I couldn't continue with either of these languages later on and learnt some totally different languages.]

Ambidexterity:

I was born left-handed, but could always use my right hand better than a right-handed person can use their left hand. After about three years of practice, I had become fairly ambidextrous. I could write, brush my teeth, bowl and do a few other unnoticeable activities using my right hand. This faculty of using hands also exposed me to certain observations I had never noticed before - i) the right shoulder of right handed people is wider. It is clearly evident in case of bowlers who have to use one hand a lot more; ii) right handed people can't turn their neck as far to the left  as they can to their right, and if you catch them sleeping on their stomach their neck will probably be turned to the right.

Fitness:

I loved running in the dark, but my hometown was too unsafe to run alone quite early in the morning or after sunset, so I would practice stair climbs followed by a fixed number of sit-ups in my home (but I totally sucked at running, and my stamina was comparable to that of a crow-bait). I loved football, so the evenings were reserved for honing my dribbling and juggling skills (I was and still am really good at this, but it didn't make me a good player at all FYI). My fitness was very very low, but I was VERY passionate about it. 

[I have made considerable progress on this front in the last couple of years.]

It was at this point that I cultivated a passion for writing, and my appetite to study the coursework whetted considerably. I felt most emotions in extremes. My hobbies were more like my obsessions. Despite living in a constant edgy state of excitement I was extremely disciplined, and my daily schedule was as predictable as clockwork.

Social flop:

My social life was a dismal bust. My involvement with society and friends plummeted rapidly as my indulgence in my own set of activities increased. I was already an unsocial guy and much to the disappointment of my parents it was getting worse day by day. There was days when I barely felt the need to talk to anyone. I was captivated in my own universe full of delusions and ambitions, fueled by tons of raw energy. I always ribbed social conventions, niceties and use of informal chit chat or formal exchange of greetings. It was perhaps this distaste for societal elements that I made my first conscious attempt to escape mediocrity. I (wrongly) thought I had been successful to a certain extent.

Today:

As I mentioned I was a social flop. I had never imagined this single shortcoming would later overshadow all my skills, all my passions and whatever I stood for. Maybe that's an overstatement. But it certainly has to some extent dwarfed the creative side of mine. If I confess, I never thought I would ever feel the urge to become social and outgoing again. I thought life would continue running on a high note, but that phase turned out to be just an extended crest of the sinusoidal ride I had embarked on. 

Nine years on, occasionally overwhelmed by an overdose of foresightedness, confusion, failures, foundering career, competition, proving yourself, lack of direction and most importantly lack of a social life that I now wish for, I very often pine for those days when all I had was an unusual amount of raw energy, leading a life  which was simplified by lack of social wisdom, my blinkered outlook and unhindered focus on what I wanted to do. With my expectations and reality wide asunder, I sometimes hope I could get back into that state of mind again; that I could go back to my ivory tower again.