It gets tiring. And there's a certain limit to how far someone can go. Without sounding too ridiculous. When will labels cease to exist and when will people stop judging, grading, and classifying things. The world should just be switched on to the Critics' mode and we could just snatch up Popular, crumple it, stomp on it and burn it up.
It sounds rather authoritarian and dicator-ish, but the world is waiting to be held and worked and moulded in intelligent hands, not on what sounds okay and what's been acceptable for a long time, or what's just liked by people around you. "People" are just that. People.
It irks me when intelligent ones depend on popular opinion. The world's going nowhere without individual thoughts and not the herd mentality. One by one everyone could be doing the same, wrong thing until somene wakes up and makes them realise that the right way is the other path.
If there isn't one already, make one.
On "following", one person does wrong and another three join him, and then another twenty, it just SETS the deed as something that's acceptable and eventually the "right" thing to do. If everyone is doing it, it is NOT that it is the right thing. It's just that people stopped using their brains sometime ago and now they're tools for some stupid person who has simple no idea of what he's done, is doing and will probably continue to do so for maybe a LOT more time to come.
That leads to redundant, unsuccesful attempts at change and eventually the changers get tired, think about - "can't beat 'em- join 'em" and then finally cease to exist. Perseverance as a virtue is not much seen though as a vice, it's the norm. If you get benefitted that's what you keep doing.
It's all about you, you and you. And not about what happens outside you. Yourself too is all about the exterior other see and what they cannot see is the tumultous relationship you have with yourself inside. And sometimes you can't even feel it and you choose to ignore it, which is perceptually a good decision but in reality, it's far from it.
A call to the conscience it just what everyone needs. Every one of the "people" out there.
Agood example could be Gandhi. I refuse to revere him personally by calling him Mahatma. I study History and I conclude he was just a person, and what he said and wanted, appealed to the selves, the egos of the "people" and they thought they could benefit from the consequences, thus they liked him and followed him. His principles struck true.
They needed freedom, he was an instrument to get it. No, I refuse to think that every one of those people were as noble as him and could sacrifice their whole lives as he did for the greater benefit of humankind. No they could not. Or else we could find a million more Gandhis to stop what is happening and change the world.
But we don't. "People" want to live their lives. They want to grow up, get a good job, get rich, have an attractive partner, a couple or more kids, lead a good life and die peacefully in their sleep. They need just that. And to have that they needed the freedom to get that life they wanted. Thus they needed someone to get them there.
Once you live in India, you start loving the way you live even if it's not the best way and patriotism, mixed in your blood can never make you say a word against your country. So you gently and carefully try to mend things, all undercover. You do not question it out loud. Just as you would never go and shout at your parents' face on something you think they did wrong. That's just morally wrong and cannot be done.
These are the set rules and the norms. India's a country. Your parents are humans. And sometimes subtlety just does not do it. Bottling up something ends up in more harm being done than good. It has to come out someday and in the case of the country, I hope it is some day soon.
People live in whimsical fantasies and rely on Gods which are probably and positively someone's fantasy. Harry Potter and Ram are in the same picture for me. No, no superhumanperson sitting in the sky can grant wishes. Alladin's genie and Vishnu are the same then. Sorry I burst your pretty holy bubble. Or maybe I just bruised it a pretty shade of black and blue. I hope.
The class 12 history textbook is enough to cement my theories that our culture is a potpourri of mildly exaggerated folk tales and simpe whimsical characters who came about with just too much free time and little children who were eager for good bed-time stories.
But smell the coffee, "people", you are not a kid. And you need something more solid and palpable than a blind faith in a omnipresent entity. Like air, yes. Can you depend on the air you breathe to change say, the political situation India has? No, air is there for you to breathe. Gods are there to exist in the holy books. As characters. And nothing more. It's actions and not prayer which leads to change.
Another conclusion I come to is that "people" are just a group of very lazy people who would just rather depend on their very "rich" culture and tradition, sit back and reminisce while their present and future lies dark and dank and empty. What was once.. was there once. And it's just like a family heirloom, which was lost centuries ago but still you're SO proud and arrogant that you once had it.
But face it, you can't live on it.
Majority if village, small town and good part of the urban Indian youth grow up on cheap bollywood films, nonsensical songs and non-existent food for thought.. books are to be there in the libraries. And thinking is for thinkers. It's like saying studying is for people trying to get their phDs. They started somewhere years ago. And well, if you don't, your story ended before it started.
Sorry, sir. But you just killed my hope.
27 February 2010
1 February 2010
Laments of a Dreamer
Being a dreamer is very inconvenient. Especially when the light switch is across the room, the weather cold and the time is 1:35 in the night. Poems come whispering to you at the unearthliest hours. Sometimes humming and buzzing like an irritating mosquito, trying to get a place to sleep, in the hollow of your ear. And you can't just slap it away and go to sleep.
Poetic paranoia is another such disease that gets in the way of living. When I can't just let the lines go and let them come to me again at a later date. That just isn't possible. I have to get up, groaning, repeating the lines to myself and scatter around stuff on my already very messy study table and rummage for a piece of paper somewhere. And then look for a pen that works.
And when you're so habitual of the sound of the keyboard, thank god for the blessed old fashioned paper. And specially when you have switched on and off your laptop at least a dozen times in the day already.
You get tired. You want to go to sleep. But your mind doesn't stop. It doesn't stop making plans that will never be implemented. And dreams that will never be realised. Not even in the dream's dreams. It fantasizes with the current favourite sappiest song there is with your current favourite person, in a ridiculously fantastical scenario.
It thinks up a movie-like storyline. Which will probably be forgotten, substituted by a more ridiculously thought-out plan that will again be fantastically substituted. It's a vicious, vicious cycle.
It keeps you away from the dreadful reality but brings it back to you transforming it like an ugly-beast-to-handsome-prince story or a rags-to-riches one. Subsequently you get disappointed and tired, and give up just to start dreaming in another five minutes.
But just on rare occasions, some incidents take you to another part of your dream which is in actuality real, and it's better than you can fantasize or dream of. It's the moments like these that you live for. And hope that you can continue to live for them.
Dreams come and they go. And they come again..
Sometimes you just want to shout at it to STOP but you don't. Because it's just the way it is. That's who you are.
Poetic paranoia is another such disease that gets in the way of living. When I can't just let the lines go and let them come to me again at a later date. That just isn't possible. I have to get up, groaning, repeating the lines to myself and scatter around stuff on my already very messy study table and rummage for a piece of paper somewhere. And then look for a pen that works.
And when you're so habitual of the sound of the keyboard, thank god for the blessed old fashioned paper. And specially when you have switched on and off your laptop at least a dozen times in the day already.
You get tired. You want to go to sleep. But your mind doesn't stop. It doesn't stop making plans that will never be implemented. And dreams that will never be realised. Not even in the dream's dreams. It fantasizes with the current favourite sappiest song there is with your current favourite person, in a ridiculously fantastical scenario.
It thinks up a movie-like storyline. Which will probably be forgotten, substituted by a more ridiculously thought-out plan that will again be fantastically substituted. It's a vicious, vicious cycle.
It keeps you away from the dreadful reality but brings it back to you transforming it like an ugly-beast-to-handsome-prince story or a rags-to-riches one. Subsequently you get disappointed and tired, and give up just to start dreaming in another five minutes.
But just on rare occasions, some incidents take you to another part of your dream which is in actuality real, and it's better than you can fantasize or dream of. It's the moments like these that you live for. And hope that you can continue to live for them.
Dreams come and they go. And they come again..
Sometimes you just want to shout at it to STOP but you don't. Because it's just the way it is. That's who you are.
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