uncomfortable feast.

yesterday morning, I wake up and as it is happening quite frequently these days I was not in good mood. majorly because of the meaningless nature of work. so I went to the office. I started my computer. and a nice guy in office asked me, “hey man, are you going to the wedding”. and I replied “I would”. we had some laugh. what does that even mean I would !. the truth is, I was not sure. and honest truth is, I don’t want to go but I have to go.

Now people are asking to each other “what are you gonna wear.” see I have brought this thing yesterday", and the competition begins. maybe the psychology reason was I don’t want to be embarrassed. or for some maybe show-off. but I am sure it has nothing to do with actual purpose of wedding. I am sure there was another group of people close to the groom must have different psychological reason.

I could not comprehend this idea, of buying a suit to attend a wedding, that I don’t care about much. this was not even in the consideration in my mind. go to that extend to fit in.

so as the window of time start to close, people who don’t have suits start to panic. ofcourse it is not about the suits, it is about being judged and losing your self identity with it. it is about fitting in. and it has nothing to do with wedding ( actual point ). so they chose it. and brought suits in last minutes.

I knew very well, I would be judged, I told myself I want data. and I wear my old white shirt, and faded blue jeans. do I care about what people think about me? yes ! , but my complete self identity is not dependent on it.

so the feast begins. I met my first colleague, and so proudly he told me, to the extent he has to go to make sure he looks appropriate for the wedding. other guys who picked me were very proud of their appearances. I start to sense comparison.

and we come to wedding, it was in five star hotel, it was quite nicely decorated and everyone is in the suits. I can very clearly say I was the most underdressed guy, atleast in the group of people I know. I felt discomfort of being one. but I didn’t justify it to myself.

again there was these two reality i faced. where periodically, I am seeing the guy sitting in front of me as a living person with layers of pretense from belief to suits. and i feel calm and composed ( not superior ). than a person sitting right in front of me with an aggregated lump that present one entity and I start to compete and felt inferiority.

along with other people I went to congrat groom, and he made a remarkable comment, “oh the hippies”. and some people start to do this pretend talk to fit in. some people start to project comments like “man now you look alien”, “look he is observing the life”. some people start to feel bad for me. ‘only if he had wear the clothes like everyone, and know how to pretend engagement’. if only he can behave just like everyone, he would not have to go through this, poor guy.

In the midst of this game, slowly I start to feel bad for myself. I start to buy the fusion of reality. I start to buy the show. I maintain pretty good sense of awareness, but the discomfort start to take over, it was very clear when I went to take food, the action were infected by sense of self loathing. and I start to fuse my identity with my clothes. I see people with suits superior as compare to people without suits. I start to shrink and want to hide. avoid conversion, get out of here. I start judging, hating, despising people. I start to justify why it is better to wear these clothes, and behaving like this. unknowingly, I entered the bloodbath.

I came home and feel more miserable than when I left. I believed the solution of the problem would be to buy a suit and fit in. in total grip of delusion.

but from the other angle this was a remarkable feat. I consciously, chose the misery over comfort of fitting in. I chose what I feel and believe was right. instead of putting up a show, I express myself authentically.

my roof is not trenched and delusion entered like a water. it was good reality check and this data has tremendous value.