WE ARE NOT CREATED FOR ANY GRANDER PURPOSE THAN THE MOSQUITO THAT SUCKS OUR BLOOD

INTRODUCTION: THE DISEASE OF SPECIALNESS

From childhood, we are told that we are special.

Chosen. Superior. Smarter than animals. Smarter than nature. Smarter than each other.

That there is some grand purpose to our birth — something divine, cosmic, sacred.

That we are not just born, but sent. Not just alive, but meant to do something big.

But what if it’s all a lie?

What if the mosquito that sucks your blood is just as valid as your Harvard degree?

What if there’s no difference between your self-importance and a fly buzzing on dung?

This essay is not comfortable. But truth rarely is.

PART 1: THE INVENTED NEED FOR PURPOSE

Why do we need a grand purpose?

Because we are scared of being ordinary.

We are scared that life might be simple. That we might not be chosen. That maybe… we are not that important.

So, we invent stories.

“God has a plan for you.”

“You are here for a reason.”

“Humans are the crown of creation.”

“Life is a journey of evolving consciousness.”

These are not facts.

They are coping mechanisms.

PART 2: COMPARING MOSQUITO TO MAN

Let’s look at the mosquito.

It wakes.

It flies.

It feeds.

It breeds.

It dies.

No status update. No diary entry. No emotional complexity.

But also, no suicide, no war, no delusions.

Now let’s look at the average urban man:

He wakes and checks his phone for dopamine.

He builds homes he can’t live in peacefully.

He eats food that makes him sick.

He breeds, but teaches his children to hate themselves.

He dies slowly, carrying shame, debt, and regrets.

Who’s grander?

PART 3: THE MYTHS OF CIVILIZATION

We often say,

"Look at our architecture, literature, music, space missions. We must be superior."

Really?

Every empire built temples and toilets. And destroyed forests.

Every religion wrote books. And murdered non-believers.

Every government builds roads. And digs mass graves beside them.

Progress is just clever destruction.

We paved the soil. We poisoned the rivers. We caged ourselves in concrete.

Then we called it development.

The mosquito never claimed it was civilized.

It just existed — without tampering with the whole planet.

PART 4: THE INDIAN ANGLE — SPIRITUAL EGO

India is full of spiritual superiority.

We say things like:

“We are ancient.”

“We are the land of sages.”

“We believe in Atma and Moksha.”

“We are born to serve Dharma.”

But look closer.

People who chant mantras often beat their wives.

People who fast for God stuff themselves with fried snacks.

People who claim to be awakened still gossip, lie, judge, and crave attention.

Even our spirituality is a mask to avoid feeling small.

PART 5: THE ECONOMICS OF PURPOSE

There is big money in making you feel you have a purpose.

Self-help books sell dreams.

Therapists sell validation.

Religions sell afterlife packages.

Influencers sell meaning through brands.

Governments sell patriotism.

If you realize you're no different from a mosquito, what happens?

You stop consuming.

You stop obeying.

You stop buying things to “fulfil your potential.”

And that’s dangerous — not to life, but to the system.

PART 6: THE TRUTH YOU NEVER HEAR

No god called you.

No planet revolves for you.

No tree waits for your footstep.

No bird needs your opinion.

You are here. That’s all.

Just like the mosquito.

And that is not depressing.

That is liberating.

Because once you let go of this imaginary purpose…

You eat when hungry, not when bored.

You love without expecting validation.

You work without craving applause.

You rest without guilt.

You live without pretending to be more than what you are.

PART 7: WHAT REMAINS WITHOUT THE LIE?

If you're not special, not chosen, not better — then what remains?

Humility. Silence. Clarity. Kindness. Presence. Peace.

You become a participant of life, not the hero.

You dissolve into the sky, the soil, the smell of the rain.

You don’t need grand meaning — because living itself is enough.

CONCLUSION: THE FINAL BLASPHEMY

We are not created for any grander purpose than the mosquito that sucks our blood.

Both of us came.

Both of us will go.

Neither of us owes the universe anything.

And that is the most natural, most sacred, most honest way to live.

“THE GRAND PURPOSE IS A GRAND DELUSION”

A dialogue between Madhukar the Hermit and a seeker obsessed with meaning

Characters:

Madhukar – a calm, barefoot hermit in a simple white dhoti, seated on a stone slab under a banyan tree

Suresh – a 40-year-old educated man from Bengaluru, struggling with depression despite worldly success

I. THE SEARCH FOR PURPOSE

Suresh: Madhukar… I’ve tried everything — career, marriage, meditation, travel.

But something still feels missing.

Madhukar: What are you hoping to find?

Suresh: My purpose. My higher calling. I want to know why I’m here.

Madhukar: Hmm. Do you think the buffalo knows why it’s here?

Suresh: No… but it’s an animal.

Madhukar: So are you.

II. THE BURDEN OF BEING HUMAN

Suresh: But humans are different. We think. We feel. We aspire.

Madhukar: True. And that's exactly why we suffer more than any other species.

Suresh: You mean our intelligence causes suffering?

Madhukar: Intelligence without humility is self-torture.

You invented the idea of “a grand purpose” because you were ashamed to be ordinary.

III. THE GLORY OF THE MOSQUITO

Suresh: But shouldn’t life be more than just eating, sleeping, reproducing?

Madhukar: That’s your ego talking.

The mosquito eats, breeds, and dies.

It doesn’t ask, “Am I fulfilling my divine destiny?”

Suresh: But we have souls, don’t we?

Madhukar: What’s a soul?

Suresh: I… I don’t know.

Madhukar: Exactly. A mosquito doesn’t need a soul to live.

You invented the soul to avoid feeling like a random, temporary spark in a vast meaningless sky.

IV. THE MARKET OF MEANING

Suresh: But don’t all scriptures say we’re born for a reason?

Madhukar: Scriptures are written by scared humans trying to make sense of pain.

They are stories — not truths.

Suresh: Are you saying all meaning is fiction?

Madhukar: All meaning is marketing.

Purpose is sold through religion, politics, education, social media.

Everyone profits when you chase something outside yourself.

Suresh: Then what should I chase?

Madhukar: Nothing.

Sit. Breathe. Observe.

Become so quiet that even the mosquito lands on you with reverence.

V. THE OBSESSION WITH IMPORTANCE

Suresh: Maybe I just want to feel important.

Madhukar: You want to be God’s favourite pet.

You want the universe to clap every time you make a PowerPoint slide.

Suresh: That sounds stupid when you say it.

Madhukar: It is stupid.

But it’s the foundation of modern life.

This illusion that “I matter more than others.”

VI. THE DEATH OF THE GRAND LIE

Suresh: So I should let go of all purpose?

Madhukar: Yes. It’s a lie that’s killing you.

What you need is presence, not purpose.

Suresh: But then what will motivate me?

Madhukar: The sun doesn’t rise for a promotion.

The tree doesn’t grow for applause.

They exist. They express. They fade. And the world continues.

Suresh: And humans?

Madhukar: You can either become a mosquito — graceful, instinctive, guiltless —

Or you can become a monster with a briefcase and spiritual anxiety.

VII. THE FINAL FREEDOM

Suresh: So what do I do now?

Madhukar: Wake up. Touch the earth. Eat simply. Love honestly. Shit peacefully.

Let people misunderstand you. Let God forget you.

Just live — like the breeze lives.

Suresh: And that’s enough?

Madhukar: More than enough.

Everything else is just noise — invented to drown the silence of truth.

“NOTHING GRAND ABOUT US”

there’s a man who says

he was born to lead the nation.

he can’t lead his bladder past midnight.

there’s a woman who says

she’s the divine womb of goddess energy.

she yells at her maid

for not folding the bedsheet with corners tucked in.

there’s a yogi who preaches detachment

from behind a ring light and six donation links.

his liver’s failing

but his ego’s still making reels.

there’s a college boy

posting quotes about karma and quantum physics,

jerking off to porn,

and calling his parents a burden

because they don’t speak english.

you’re not the sun.

you’re not even the bulb in a cheap lodge toilet.

you’re here because sperm met egg.

you’re breathing because your nose still works.

you’re not chosen.

you’re just not dead yet.

the mosquito that bit your ass last night

doesn’t know what bitcoin is,

doesn’t write poems,

doesn’t fear cancer,

and still —

it lived a more honest day than you.

you wake up worried.

you drink sugar.

you pretend to care.

you forward temple photos.

you suppress your shit till the weekend.

and then you ask —

“why am i here?”

you are here

because this planet farts out forms

like roadside cows drop dung.

not because Brahma sat with a strategy team.

you think you need a purpose.

you don’t.

you need to

shut up,

eat only when hungry,

sleep when tired,

walk till your soles hurt,

and disappear quietly.

the earth will keep spinning.

and some mosquito

will be born

to suck your son’s blood

next summer.

and that

will be more sacred

than anything

you have done

with your bloody

grand

life.

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