Here is a crazy idea.  Getting lost in the desert. 

Amid acres and acres of sand glistening under the ruthless afternoon sun, sloping and rising to form dunes that pervade the vast landscape. Silence suffuses your surroundings; the quietness allows you to hear the whisper of the wind as it shifts the sand. Above you, the sky is a bright spread of blue, the bluest sky you’ve ever seen. At an angle above your head sits the yellow disc we call the sun, a bane to anyone who should unfortunately find themselves stranded in this open and wide desert; languishing in thirst, with no means to get out. 

Which is ironical in a way, because “out” is where you already are.

But not for you. You’re relishing the openness of the desert; basking in it. 

Maybe you do start feeling that craving for a spill of water that can, at the very least, moisten your parched mouth. Maybe you even long for the shade of a tree to sit against and relax for a while. Or even take a nap. 

But these, in the big scheme of things, are mere trivialities. 

Why? 

Because, well, look around you. The excellence you’ve been chasing all your life doesn’t matter anymore; the extra hours you worked to satisfy that need for productivity, the extra miles you ran to get as close to the flat-stomach figure you promised to yourself at the start of the new year, and all the extra activities you packed in your weekends to not feel like a lazy lump. That desire to keep moving onward, taking one constructive step after another, to give your life that meaning that people spend years soul-searching for is, out here, pointless. 

Who wouldn’t love to be lost out here, where expectations and obligations are reduced to almost nothingness?

That was the thought that tore through the ocean of all others as the car I was in jumped over the dunes, lurching me (a passenger sitting in the backseat) forward and, the next second, pushing me back. I uttered a big scream of excitement as the wheels of the car landed on the slope. The car began its ascent over a relatively larger dune, the dune-bashing instructor sitting in the driver’s side asking the passengers in the car if they were doing fine. “It’s good none of you have had any breakfast,” he remarked, and looked at me, winking, through the rear-view mirror. 

As we reached the top of the dune, the driver stopped the car. Our heartbeats were thumping, our nerves on edge. He pulled the handbrake, and turned to face us; wearing that same smile. “Relax,” he said. “Look around you, soak it all in.” 

And, boy oh boy, was he right. 

Outside the car windows, on which the sand had been slapping in waves as we hit the dunes, was a sweeping view of the beautiful desert. Acres of golden sand till the eyes could see; a beautiful, picturesque vista. 

“Of course, things would look different sitting inside an air-conditioned car,” the instructor added. “Out there, anyone who has to travel through the desert lives a life of extreme difficulty. Trust me, you wouldn’t want to get lost out there.”

Would I not? a voice in my head said, surprising me. I looked out through the windows at the vast expanse, and, even though the rational part of my mind could comprehend the harshness of the landscape, I was mesmerised. The same voice returned, calling out to me, teasing me. Would you really not want to get lost out there? Of being unfettered, unburdened? 

Unburdened of? 

Well, unburdened of the weight of… having realised your dreams. 

Have I started sounding absurd?

A couple of months ago, I secured a promotion at work. Creative Director, the little plate outside the door to my office read. I was now designated as the key decision maker for the advertisements our agency prepared. From the ideas we locked in, to the scripts we prepared, and the creatives we used to present them, would all run though me. 

All in all, it’s a dream job; one I had been waiting for (sometimes patiently, sometimes not so much) in the wings for for a long time. And it’s everything I could have possibly wished for. I say this at the risk of sounding cheesy, but, each day that I returned home, a part of me couldn’t wait to go back the next morning. Weekends, especially long ones, made me restless. Even as my wife and I would sit for a movie on a quiet Sunday afternoon, I would find myself thinking of ideas for the creative proposal I was working on back at work. 

My work life balance was going for a toss, I know. But, get this – I loved every moment of it. 

Unfortunately, like all good things, it lost its shine pretty soon; like a kid who gets bored with a toy he pestered you to buy and, after playing with it for a few days, it now lies below his bed, collecting dust. The monumental scope of responsibilities I was shouldering soon got to me, and, now that the allure of it had faded, its rust-filled underpinnings started surfacing. 

But, more than that, I saw myself in a new light. Forever chasing that next big idea, each one better than the other. You find yourself running on a treadmill, not making any headway even though you’ve run so many laps. Pursuing that goal might be fun, but only till you have the legs for it. Sooner or later, you would get tired, and, because your legs can’t propel you anymore, you would want to stop. 

When that happens, even the sight of the cruel desert, devoid of any life of any shape of form for miles on end, starts seeming… beautiful. 

And you would start wishing, dearly so, of wanting to get lost out here.