Flavors of endings

 Arun Kumar

In the darkness of the movie theater, the protagonist of the movie I was watching accomplished what he had set out to do, and now, the credits are rolling up on the screen. I think every movie I have watched the credits start from the bottom of the screen and move upward to the top. I have never seen or recall them moving from top to bottom. Wonder why that is?

Until the movie ended everyone focused on watching the movie but the instant it ended, and credits started to roll, individuals in the audience reacted in different ways. Some got up immediately wanting to leave the theater as soon as possible, as if saying that now the show is over, I am out of here to the next thing on my list that is waiting to be tended, or conquered, or enjoyed.

Then there are a few others who just stay in their seats. It is not that they are watching the credits intently. More likely, they are just lost in some thoughts, perhaps thinking about something in the movie that did not make sense. How come, they wonder, bad guys in the movie who were so stupid, survived all odds of not getting killed to become grown up adults?

Or perhaps now that the show that occupied their attention has ended, they are just staring vacantly into the empty space not knowing what to do or where to go next.

Sitting in the theater and watching how different people acted differently when curtains came down reminded me that when things come to an end in our life, the feelings that accompany them also come in different flavors.

In the life that we live outside of the theater, endings can result in a sigh of relief, or in a sense of fear brought out by the thoughts of emptiness, or a sense of pride for job well done often accompanied with a feeling of sadness but if the job got botched up then wishing to jump back in time and get another chance to set things right, or a sense of freedom.

Then there might be more feelings that endings can be a catalyst for that either I cannot think right now or have not experienced personally.

Among the endings the ones I find interesting are the ones that bring a sense of fear or the ones that bring a sense of sadness.

For me, an ending that generated the sense of fear, which actually was not an ending per se, was the thought of the end of work life culminating in retirement.

After a long and productive career, the thought of retirement and the prospects of time affluence after that but not knowing what to do with it, resulted in a sense of fear and anxiety. Just the thought and the prospect of the end of my career generated questions like what I am going to do afterwards, what would be my portfolio of activities that would feel engaging, how would I identify myself.

Those questions were terrifying.

That fear that accompanied the thought was an example of finistophobia; an emotion of fear generated by anticipation of an ending that could result in an emptiness afterwards. Finistophobia has the capacity to alter our choices, behavior, actions, and can also influence our well-being.

The other class of endings I find interesting are the ones that bring a feeling of sadness. These are often related to being responsible for a task and successfully bringing it to the finish line. Another feature of such endings is that the day prior to getting to the finish line is preceded by a long preparatory period of understanding various logistical details that are part of the task.

Such endings are tinged with a feeling of sadness to see something that occupied our heart and soul for a long time come to an end.

With such endings there also comes the question: what next? Where do I go next?

Such endings are something like what Clint Eastwood may feel at the end of some of his movies — a job has been done well and the town infested with bad elements has been cleaned up. It is now time for our warrior to ride into the sunset carrying a twinge of sadness in his heart.

The event managers may feel a similar sentiment when after the last of guests have departed, and months of prep work resulted in a flawless execution of every detail, take in the view of an empty room left behind with floors littered with rubbish and wonder what next?

Or perhaps a similar sentiment is also felt by the project manager of the space mission making a successful landing on the surface of Mars and wondering that now that my job is done, what next?

Such endings that are enveloped in a sense of pride and a twinge of sadness should be called Clint Eastwood Endings.

Feelings associated with some other kinds of endings are obvious — endings with a sense of relief when a hurricane has passed over or when a howling episode of Santa Ana wind has ended; endings with a sense of freedom when a brutal regime is overthrown, or a toxic supervisor gets a promotion and is out of your sight.

The movie hall is almost empty now, the lights have slowly come back, and the cleaning crew has started to pick up the trash left behind. Enough reflections about the flavors of endings. It is time for me to also leave.

Ciao.

A fun note: Below is the response from ChatGPT as to why movie credits roll from bottom to top:

Movie credits typically roll from bottom to top for historical and practical reasons. This tradition dates back to the early days of filmmaking, and while there’s no one definitive reason, several factors have contributed to this format:

1. Tradition: When films were first made, they were often displayed on a projection screen. The film reel was mounted on a projector, which would feed the film from the bottom reel to the top reel as it played. This meant that the images, including credits, were naturally oriented to scroll from bottom to top.

2. Readability: Text that scrolls from bottom to top is easier to read for many people, as it mimics the natural eye movement from the bottom of a page or screen upward. It allows viewers to more easily follow the credits as they appear.

3. Posterity: Rolling credits from bottom to top allows for a smooth and continuous display of information, making it easier to capture on film or video. It ensures that no part of the credits is missed as they move up the screen.

4. Convention: Once a convention is established in an industry, it often becomes a standard practice. As the film industry grew and developed, the bottom-to-top scrolling of credits became a convention that filmmakers and audiences alike came to expect.

While rolling credits from bottom to top is the most common practice, there are exceptions. Some films and television shows choose to roll credits in unconventional ways for artistic or stylistic reasons, such as scrolling sideways or even using unique animations.

Ultimately, the direction in which movie credits roll is a matter of convention, readability, and tradition, but it can also be a creative choice by filmmakers to set their work apart.

Sadness of Endings

 Arun Kumar

It is Friday and the last day of the five-day meeting that started on Monday.

The past four days have been long stretches of work. We are here to put together the first draft of a guidance document on operational practices for objective seasonal forecasting.

At about 3 pm, we would start to wrap things up, begin to power down our laptops, and start to gather our phones, connectors, water bottles etc. to put them back in our bags. Soon after, it would be time to say byes, shake hands, and wish each other a safe and uneventful journey back to respective homes in different corners of the world.

It is Friday, and although I am glad the week is coming to an end, there is also a twinge of sadness inside me. It is not the first time that I have had this sentiment. This feeling is familiar to my heart.

It is the sadness of the endings, particularly of the endeavors with a successful outcome that were a result of long months of planning and hard work. When it all comes to an end there is a sense of relief that is mixed with a sense of sadness.

I have been organizing and working on this task for months before our face-to-face meeting — organizing the layout of the document, thinking about what chapters, and sections in them, are going to be. Once that was done, assigning lead and backup authors, and making sure that they were aware of what is expected.

After all the hard work we all have done, at the end of today there will be a tangible document in our hand. For sure, there will be months of reviewing and editing that will follow but I do know that the task I took on has come to an end.

In this ending there is a sense of pride of a job well done, of meeting the expectations that were placed in me, of rising to the occasion and steering the boat safely into the harbor.

In this ending there is a sadness of needing to say goodbyes to coworkers. For the last few days, a small group of us huddled together at this particular point in space. Soon that group would start to disperse, and we would go our own ways to our little universes.

The space-time diagram after 3 pm would show eight different trajectories diverging. Some of these trajectories may never cross again. It is a possibility that we may not be cognizant of the fact now but may become aware afterwards when we look back and remember that oh yes, it was that afternoon in Geneva that I saw Arun the very last time. I wonder what he is up to these days.

In this ending there is a sadness that carries a hint of serenity that although I do not know what is next, at this moment all is well. Right now, there is no tear in the fabric of space and time and the future holds promises for further blessings.

And perhaps, in this ending there is a subtle premonition that just like this, life itself would be ending one day. Somewhere inside there is a softness of realization that not too distant in time my show would be over. Slowly as time marches on and that realization gets more acute, I need to start gathering my belongings or start emptying my bags, say our last goodbyes, and be ready to board the very last train.

I know the feeling of this sadness would only be temporary and would not last more than an hour. After I leave this building and head back to the hotel, soon after I would start thinking about the one last walk around Lake Geneva then come back to the room and start packing. In between I also need to decide on a place for dinner.

Soon, life and the present, as always does, will take over.

Even though the feeling would not last, but in the present, its sadness holds a sweet promise of some vague eternity that could be mine. The same promise of vague eternity that lazy summer afternoons when everything around is quiet and occasional and occasional winds feel cool against the skin, sometimes hold.

Or another vivid image that comes to mind is a big hall after a night of a big event (perhaps a political convention, or a marriage celebration), and in the quietness of morning the floor is littered with confetti or petals of roses. Months of preparation and hard work are now over. Soon cleaning crews would be here, and for me it would be time to move on.

Or it could be just the image of Clint Eastwood riding into the sunset but not quite knowing where to.

I wonder what others around me are feeling. Do they even have a trace of feelings that are inside me? Or they just can’t wait for the meeting to end and get out of the room and be on their way while thinking about the need to look for presents to carry back home.

Do they wonder if our trajectories would intersect again, or this was it?

Ciao.

An ice cream shake topped with caramel

It was a lot of eating
five strips of
deep fried chicken
with golden fries
sitting on the side

a piece of creamy cheesecake
followed by,
an ice cream shake
topped with layers
of amber colored caramel
running down its side.

And by jove,
it felt good,
that is,
until the moments
of reckoning

when drifting away into sleep
and getting warmed under the quilt
there was a visitation from guilt

for breaking the quest to
to be simple and be humble,
and for not staying the course
and so easily tumble.

All there was to say
that there is another tomorrow
wake up in the morning
and try to
get back in the flow.

In dreams I am a hero

 Arun Kumar

Cabo da Roca. I am told this is the westernmost point in continental Europe. It may just be a gimmick to popularize this place in travel books. A distinction a traveler can take back home and say to their friends that look I visited something unique, and now, I carry another badge of honor on my chest.

Or it may indeed be the westernmost point in continental Europe. Either way, it is a stunning place to be.

Standing high on the rocky cliff looking at the blue waters of the Atlantic, strong gusts of wind rush around wanting to lift me even higher. The blue horizon and I think I can see our home on the other side of the Atlantic.

I am glad that on the spur of the moment, while taking a trip to Cascais, I decided to come here. The rocks I stand would also be the farthest point away from home during this trip.

If you think of it, every trip away from home has the farthest point that we reach, turn back, and start the journey back to home. It is like throwing a stone up in the sky and following the laws of nature, the stone makes a graceful arch, reaches its highest point, and returns back to Earth, its home.

I am that stone.

High above the blue waters of the Atlantic, for a moment, I feel glad that I made this journey and actualized it from merely being a plan into a reality.

It is not always so. Sometimes I just keep dreams for the sake of dreaming and am in no hurry to crystallize them into diamonds they could be.

Unrealized dreams have a certain warmth to them. They can be an anchor that does not let us drift. They are the safe harbor we can fly back to when at the end of the day, the sun starts to descend. On occasions, they can be something for us to look forward to when we wake up in the morning.

During the day, they become daydreams to bring solace under the summer sky; they become fluffy clouds that float by and offer moments of shade.

Why actualize dreams when they have so much to offer. And who knows, dreams turned into reality may not be something they promised to be.

In The Alchemist there is a crystal merchant who is a middle-aged man living in Tangier and gives Santiago, the protagonist, a badly needed job. The crystal merchant’s dream is to make a pilgrimage to Mecca. However, he does not want to fulfill his dream because he thinks he would have nothing left to live for if he did go to Mecca and realized his dream.

This story encapsulates another niche of emotions dreams can fill. While dreaming, it feels like there is always something we can start tomorrow. The possibility is always there. If we actualize the dream today, tomorrow we may have to face our fears of emptiness. What next? Where do you go from here?

Perhaps, the same happens with our tendency for making endless plans and not taking the steps to lay the first few stones of what may turn out to be the next Taj Mahal. Well, not really that majestic, but still.

Somewhere, there is also a fear in taking the first step out from the dreamworld that after all, we may not be up to the task and might fail.

I want to write but feel afraid that I may not have ideas worth penning. In the end, what I will end up with would be two pages worth of mindless drivel.

Taking the first step, going from plans to taking the first step is also breaking the laws of motion — inertia. It is so much easier to keep doing what I am doing — dream — than to make a change.

In dreams and endless plans, I am a hero. In them, I do not fail. The promise of something is so much sweeter than the reality may turn out to be. Why tempt pricking the balloon?

While thinking of realizing dreams, it is easy to fall prey to the finistophobia — emotion of fear generated by anticipation of endings often followed by a sense of emptiness.

But …

…then I look back, a lesson from my own personal history tells me that taking actions often is the seed for new challenges and opens up more possibilities. Endings end up becoming new beginnings.

I need not be afraid of the prospect of emptiness. The universe offers an infinite number of challenges to pick from.

Oftentimes, finishing an article gives ideas for two more to follow.

While I stand on the edge of the cliffs at Cabo da Roca and look at the horizon far away where sky touches the turquoise water, and as the wind caresses my face, it all looks so much better than it was in my dreams.

On the journey back, I started to dream of visiting Diamond Head the next year.

One dream is realized and in its wake another dream sprouts.

Ciao.