So called protagonists of our times, you treat us as dummies with lifeless integrities and scarred sense of judgment. Shamelessly and so openly, you use your instrument of manipulated conscience and malice to reward the unworthy amongst us and form a pathetic group of people who know just how to nourish the egocentric appetite and influence the downfall of honesty.
You give democracy a bad name.
Ages after ages, she has honorably played her part in building a better society and even played your part when you were too busy boasting about your minuscule and senseless domination of the same. She is the foundation of your existence but gets her throat filled with burning charcoals of verdicts passed by these gutless cowards.
You give man a bad name.
She has peeled her skin off to give you the shade of knowledge and the understanding of true and fair. Yet, so devilishly targeted are your assaults on her pious core and innocent soul. You devour her, brutally battering her inside the brightest adobes and raping her in front of a hypnotized civilization too busy gathering bits of thrown away glitters.
You give everything a bad name.
To start the things – this is not a heart breaker!
I have a loving family, got a decent job and I have my finances being taken care of to ensure a comfortable future. I am a happy man!
So, how come someone like me got into the bad waters?
Well, sometimes being simply comfortable is just not comfortable enough.
I have, like the most of us, the life of a common person. We aren’t revolutionaries. We get up, work hard, love the people around us and then take a break. There is least of complication and time seems to just float around. Leaving the odd ups and downs in life there is nothing extraordinarily extreme happening that could shake you apart.
Is it related to someone I wanted to become or something I wanted to do? Maybe, but not absolutely.
I did want to perfect the art of pencil sketching. I hoped that someday I would compose music as I felt that it was one of the purest things one could do. I wanted to have a bodybuilder’s physique with my biceps bulging more than my ego. I wanted to have a black belt in martial arts and attain the complex amalgamation of body, mind and skill (a.k.a Bruce Lee). I wanted to eat whatever I wish and still be lean and fit.
These may sound childish or even funny. But dreams never grow up and become old. They are always as bona fide as anything could be and are subconsciously the reflection of your inner self. One could never seize to dream as the dreams would never seize to be a part of you.
Dreams are expectations. When I wished to do or achieve something as “me”, I dared to expect something out of myself. I fulfilled certain ones and I am living the life I am because of those. But even as the life becomes stable, the expectations don’t simply die. I was still expecting to achieve a few things. Not that those would have changed anything. These expectations would have refreshed, re-invented, re-energized or rehashed me as an individual.
The dilemma with me aroused where I started contradicting my expectations.
When the mind knows that it is in a contented state of existence, it builds a cocoon around itself. I did the same. I got into a state of insulation and started rejecting anything that was more of emotional than materialistic. Owing to my comfortable existence, I started snubbing my own inner self which had a pretty strong opinion about what more I was capable of achieving. My subconscious was giving me hints every now and then that there was a little bit more for me to explore. On the other hand, I was posing as already contained enough to consider it.
Slowly, the denial becomes a part of our personality. It starts affecting the natural you. The things which seemed just right on the correct spot, suddenly feel too alienating. You are in a slight state of shock that how come you are not in accordance with your daily life. There is nothing around you that is converted to a certain diminished entity just like that. In spite of this, you start having a feeling that maybe you were not doing anything which you actually wanted to do. But you can’t stop either.
Here, I started losing my confidence. It all started with just a denial.
It is always hard to begin – because we keep on looking for the perfect start.
I don’t remember being perfect when we met for the first time. I was too confused and clueless about what to be in front of you. Still, the only perfect thing I remember that evening was you. When I went back at my place and thought about being with you, all I could remember was looking into your eyes and searching for my soul in them. I thought I had everything planned and thought upon in life. After meeting you, I appreciated the fact that I had been as lost as anyone could be.
Since that evening you have been the anchor around which I have hung around when the winds were heavy. I know I am good with words, but I never tried to describe what you mean to me. I know I would fail miserably because I know I do not have the words which could be as pure and as humble as you are. There are no set of alphabets put together which could make a sentence even close to rhyming the impeccability of your name. There are not enough canvases out there on which I could even begin with if I had to draw you smile. There are not enough symphonies which could hymn the way your heart beats.
The day it all began was mesmerizing and evermore closer to the discovery of life for us.
The day it all began – was just perfect.
It is not easy to make someone read what you’d write. Reason ? A writer needs to make the reader believe in what he has inked. See, the “going through” part may be good enough for someone to click on your website or take a look at your book or article. But for the reader to respect every word of your artifact the writer requires, in less than a minute or even 30 seconds, maybe, to build a connection with the aficionado and make him judge that the passion and sentiments are a cent percent unadulterated and natural.
On the other hand, a reader is more, I would say, a term describing a “state of mind” rather than a person. Not all of us are bestowed upon with this drive of reading the thoughts of a certain Mr. Someone with a granted sense of understanding, interpretation and admiration. It is the connection that the admirer or critique is able to institute (or not) which allows them to feel real between the words.
Every good writer would not be read for sure, every famous book would not have been written by a good writer, every writer won’t live or die a celebrity, but every celebrity’s book would get into “The List”.
I hope to achieve the aim of presenting the emotions behind my words, without any wines or sizzlers, in the most authentic and uncomplicated manner possible.
I have my idols and bookmarks. But above all, I have faith in you.
…and remember…these are Just Spoken Thoughts.