A Letter To The Universe
Free will or fate: who really holds the reins?
Dear Universe
I am writing to you with a heart both heavy and light, a paradox of emotions clashing within me like errant socks in a dryer. I find myself caught in the inexorable tug-of-war between fate and free will, as if I am a hapless puppet, cavorting on the strings of a labile marionette master. You, dear Universe, are the designer and planner of this colossal stage, yet I cannot help but wonder: are we mere actors in a comedy, or do we possess the inkling of autonomy to shape our own destinies?
Every morning, I become a ritualistic warrior. Tea in hand, list somewhere else, I am convinced that this day will be the one when I finally take control of my life. However, as I get closer to the truth, reality quickly tells me that fate is not a remote concept; it does exist lurking on the sidelines of my life, ready to knock off those carefully, painstakingly and meticulously made plans. Irony! Yes, I could choose to drive along some pretty country lanes to work, but who am I kidding? I’ll probably get stuck in traffic again whenever and wherever it is that destiny chooses to strike. Anyway, I’m pondering fate as before this superincumbent universe projects its laughter down on an unhappy soul who has tried with all her might to control the course of life.
I am reminded of Allama Iqbal. The venerated man who believed and preached the self must awaken from slumber and transcend the ordinary. Yet, dear Universe, what if I am simply a cog in a grand machine, spinning endlessly in a cycle of preordained repetition? What if every decision I make is just me rolling the dice but only to land on the same squares, and hoping for a different outcome?
And then there is Camus, that literary genius who gazed into the abyss and declared that we must imagine Sisyphus happy. Can you envision the chutzpah of that statement? To find merry in pushing the boulder up the hill, only to watch it roll back down… again! It sounds like a rather grim joke, doesn’t it? Yet, perhaps therein lies the beauty of our absurdity. In this Sisyphean task if I can even call it we can see the essence of our humanity. Maybe we are not puppets or prisoners. We are comedians in a tragic play, laughing at the irony of our existence.
Nevertheless when I pass this corkscrew path of thought, an enigmatic contradiction meets me. If fate holds the reins, then what about the moments when I feel in control of making a choice? That excitement of spontaneity, that courses through my veins when I dare to branch off from this scripted narrative? What about the time I followed my instincts, leading into an unanticipated turn and allowed me to dance with the stars?
Now was that a stroke of free will, or just fate’s way of laughing at me as it nudged me off my carefully charted route?
In this duality of existence (free will and fate intermingle like dancers at a ball) I am taken to a persistent mode of stupefaction. In one particular moment, I feel so empowered, perceiving I have the control to sculpt my destiny with each decision. However in the next, I am reminded of my limitations, the constraints of those circumstances which keep on tightening and tightening like vise around my aspirations. As I watch the reflux before me, I am left pondering: am I the author of my narrative, or merely a character in someone else’s story?
Dear Universe, perhaps the answer lies not in the dichotomy of fate versus free will but in the acceptance of both. In the grand scheme of things, we are players in a cosmic drama, improvising our lines as we go along. Our choices, no matter how seemingly trivial, are imbued with meaning, however fleeting. We stumble through absurdity, seeking significance in our bewildering circumstances.
The unexpected left turns, the dizzying loops, and the baffling crossroads you drop in our path like breadcrumbs for some cosmic scavenger hunt… We are your confused travellers and yet, we’re complicit in this maddening voyage, threading your chaos through the needle of our own strange choices.
In this fate vs free will we discover not just the struggle but the sparks of joy, the wildest dreams, and the pulse of what it means to be human.
What will you do next to keep us entertained without making us question our sanity?
With existential ponderings and warm regards
Your Awestruck Observer
Mahoor Haya Shah is a writer, columnist & editor from Srinagar
By Mahoor Haya Shah
