Books.. and us.

Another one of the posts that I found typed in a notepad in a hidden folder..
Why women should not read books:

Hey.. I am going to be thrown in some village for work very soon. I shall not be able to update the blog regularly (which I dont anyways)

However, that is not the point.

The point I wish to make today is regarding love. *blush* :P

Women are very sensitive people. I know that, obviously.
Women take things pretty seriously. Even the ones that we shouldn't.
Thus, books are the biggest polluting devices in the history of mankind for our timid, tiny little hearts and minds.

Now, look at Desdemona. What was her fault?
She loved a little too much. She was extremely beautiful. She was honest, contrary to the opinion of her beloved, Othello. If I were Othello, I would have quit all politics and war and quests for whatever Othello was involved in and sat besides Desdemona and appreciate her love. That would have also eliminated all possibilities of her cheating on me anyways. That would have been simple logic and could have potentially avoided many deaths and a lot of bloodshed. However, that was not to be. Othello was a man. Devoid of all logic, like any other man.

Change genres, shall we? Lets switch to Charles Dickens instead of William Shakespeare.

Everyone has read / heard of David Copperfield.
If I consider all the lady characters of the story, I cant help but fret and fume. Following is a glimpse of their romantic lives: (in the order of my memory)
Dora Spenlow - David's first (child) wife. What did she derive of her love? Responsibilities she could not endure.
Clara Copperfield - A miserable death and endless mourning.
Mrs. Trotwood - I dont even remember her well. But I am certain of her depressing life by dint of her depressing character and ways
Rosa Dartle - Wait! Did she even have a life other than being a helping hand at the Steerforth's?
Agnes Wickfield - A depressing young lady who gets kissed by the guy who calls her "Sister of my boyhood". Considering that was the same guy who she silently loved throughout her life, it is but natural for any reader to get disgusted by the entire idea of love.
Clara Peggotty - The kind, loving nanny of David who marries Barkis for love. All happiness she ever got in her life was to hear from him "Barkis is willing" on his deathbed. Gross - if you ask me.
And of course Emily - "Untill he brings me back a lady" - Dear Emily could not accept the fact that Steerforth did not love her like a lady but as an object of usage.

There can be millions of examples
Like Jo in Little Women, Mercedes in The Count of Monte Cristo, or anyone else in saoe story ideas. Pick any lady from any play of Shakespeare, or of Oscar Wilde. I am certain no one would want that life.

Unless, of course, if one would want to pick some romantic novel, Eric Seigal or Mills and Boons. However, that is an inhuman form of setting expectations. You read those. You believe your knight in shining armour shall rescue you everytime you are in distress. However, most times the very knight is the source of or a mere spectator to all distress.

What is then, the point of it all?

Why? Would it not be convenient for women (and at most times, men too) if we just did not read books?

See ya around.

Confidence!

Been a long time, eh?

Can't help. I haven't the energies to collate my thoughts anymore. Have a lot to do. A lot to see. A lot to visualise and adapt myself to.
I have been caught up in a funny set of scenarios. I use the word funny very loosely perhaps. Whenever I can't find a certain term to signify the enormity of anything, whenever I can't find any term to depict the truth of anything, I use "funny".
There was a time when I had a plan. I had arranged the series of events in my mind. Expecting things to screw up. Expecting things to go wrong and fuck my mind (excuse the language, bitch!). I knew I will sail through. I will face each wrath of nature with strength and beat it.
i felt i could be kinda confident that I can make it.
However, life had another plans.
There i was, fighting my miniature battles, when little did i realize, a mammoth war was being cooked up. without my knowledge. Like a tornado quietly walking up and reducing an entire palace to dust.
oh yeah, palace it was.
Confidence can drive you to lethal limits. Belief and truth are two ends that can never meet. Learnt it the hard way.
And i learnt it pretty recently.
Remember the plan that i was talking about. It was ruined. Not that things i planned did not screw up. They did. Pretty bad.
But that screw up seemed petty considering the other tornado like screw up.
Nonsensical invalids effect my life so much at times, its not even funny.

Each time I decide to give up. Hopes and confidence play the spoiler. They enhance my strength and then reduce me to dust.
Hate this idea of confidence. hate it to the core. It makes me believe things that can never happen. It makes me trust people. It makes me happy. It makes me smile. There are plenty of reasons to hate it. But the idiot that I am.. I cling to it like a parasite. Ah! when shall I learn?

Anyways, see ya around.

Further .. On Peace

Peace is a bizzarre concept. Its a funny thing, i guess.
What does the term signify..?

To some it means something, to others it means a completely different thing.
What is peace to some may mean utter chaos to others.

Allow me to elaborate-
We are humans, aren't we all. No revelation that.
Humans perceive things differently in different circumstances.
Fish markets stink and frustrate us normally, but are peace to a vendor. Totally crowded ones, even better.
Death is painful for everyone. Maybe not to a coffin-maker.
Fleet of birds is not peace to a captor.

Anything can be peace to anyone, depending a lot of things,
The filth in the rains
the sickening smell of paint
the fear of heights
drowning in deep sea
being pelted with stones
making a mistake
getting rid of a guilt
drowning your conscience in liquor / dope
loosing your senses / yourself / to someone
anything.. thats the beauty of the insatiable, biased, dynamic, programmed-to-desire human mind

Some people say love is peace.
Well, at least to me, love is a sinking lifeboat. You know you need to throw weight away. So you throw your pride first. Then self-respect. Then independence. Gradually you decide to do away with memories, people - everyone who you ever knew. And then you drown in the weight.
If you tell me its not true, i laugh.
If you tell me that is peace, i smile.

I have always wondered why peace is so important.
Maybe its not important at all.

maybe its just a bully we can easily pretend we like.

on love

Love.. Ah! Pity that you think that it exists.
There is no love on the planet. Its just a concept that sells.
Well, digest this. What if you were born to someone other than who your mother is, another pretty woman maybe. Would you still not love your mother, whoever she is? Doesn't everyone love his/her mother? Its not about the love my dear. Its about the need. Most of the times, we depend on people. And that dependence is reciprocated. Thus, we begin to feel it is love. What if all the people in your life did not have a role to play in your life at all? We depend on everyone in our lives. Some for emotional requirements (by that I mean - the requirements to be close to someone, someone to hear us talk and attempt to make sense out of it, someone to make us feel important, someone to make us feel that even when the entire planet is up against us, someone, somewhere still believes that we are the best thing since sliced bread, and the works!) and some others for other, more practical, material requirements. For example, we all need a driver, a cook, a gardener, a sweeper, a maid, a spouse, so on and so forth for obvious and similar reasons. Similarly, we need parents too. We did not choose our parents. We got delivered to them by default. Figuratively speaking, we did not even choose our friends, circumstances made them our friends.
And the same people stay in our lives as they made it a better place (momentarily at that)

Ever wondered if you would really care to be the same to people all throughout?
Ever wondered who conned the term "taken for granted" and for what reason?
Well, for starters, why don't you begin with wondering why people change in the first place?

They change because the circumstances make them change. They change because they get bored of being nice to us. No one can be nice to us. I have friends who have been in relationships for a long long time. Too long to form an opinion. Too long to judge the person. What is the point of it all, if I may ask? The person they loved on day 1 has evolved into an entirely different person, and now they still stick to each other like parasites. They could have been in love with someone else as well. Would it have made any difference in the situation? Well, I dont think so.
People is a funny concept. I always get jealous of people who have a short memory. Its so much fun to not know someone. Actually anyone. If the place was just so full of strangers who wouldn't want to know one another, people would not really care to judge you or to take home ill-memories, the world could be a peaceful place.  After a judgement is already passed, its difficult not just to change it but also to prevent it from deteriorating. The "Knight in Shining Armour" always ends up being the "Retard in Tin Foil." Or maybe I'm just expecting too much. Both sides of the coin are possible. And, figuratively speaking, both bring the same point home.

This was another one of the posts that I had not published due to lack of sense making capacities.
However, I publish it now.

Sincere apologies.
See ya around.

Today..

Today I see a man. He is so happy and pleasantly smiling. I have seen him so many times earlier. But I never managed to see him this happy.
Oh! I pity him so much. Its a pity that he is not happy all the time, if I may say so. But thats not what I pity him about.

His hands are so clumsy that i feel i touched a loose water baloon (or an old woman's belly) His smile and voice are so tired that they emit an aura of apathy. One look at him and you dont think he deserves to be this happy at all.
He seems to be a normal human being, but so arrogant in his sub-normal existence that he doesn't even realise what is he missing.
The irksome look on his face, the feeling when you see him .. the one of wishing to pound his bones to powder, the one which does not let you feel like believing in him at all. the one of acute hatred and despice.

Why, why would i feel so? Why would I want to dismantle each limb off the body?
I do dislike humans on a general basis. Like there are so many individuals who are nice but I dont particularly enjoy their company, for no apparent reason. However, this one is special. For this guy has never harmed me directly. Speaks like a jackass, works like a jackass, lives like a jackass. Nothing changes. Nothing effects me. Absolutely no difference made by dint of his sheer existence. And he is happy today.

Relevance quotient almost equals zero to me.

But i still feel the pang of miserable pity. Hate the feeling. Hate him more for causing the feeling.

Wish I didn't have to feel so. Wish I wasn't here in the first place. Wish he wasn't here in the second.



See ya around..

You

PREFACE: I have been away for a while.

Just like I always wanted. Away from my thoughts. Which is also why I am entirely unapologetic about not blogging since 2nd Jan. I did manage some stuff, but it was too miserable to complete and too incomplete to put up here.

However, this is something that I have been thinking of, while on my way home from work. EVERYDAY!
Please do not, forcrissake, expect the following to make sense. Although, on afterthought, I am going to make maximum sense I ever made.
So here it goes:

Dedicated to "you"

You there! Do you think I dont recognise you anymore?
I do. I always have.
I have seen through each mind game that you played. I followed each one of your moves. Pretty neat, I must say. Neat enough to allow me to enjoy, even though I realise it's just the same old mind game.
Each time...
Each and every time...
You come across as a random stranger. I tell you my story each time (now I always heard the chuckling, you didn't expect me not to). You'd enjoy a new version of the story. You have heard so many of them that you don't even bother to remember which one was it this time. For that matter, I don't even remember which one it was. I guess I have forgotten the truth by now. Was that your trick? Oh boy! How I wish it was!

Your intent, however, was to drown me in the shallow well of vulnerability.
You wished to plaster me with confidence, that was your way of straight-jacketing me.
You dragged me to the altar of well-being and from almost nowhere shackled me to it.
And lo! "Before I could even realise" I was taken.

You have had variouos faces. The meek, the poet, the wanderer, the goon, the altruist, the devoted, the random, the unknown, the famous.

Hah! But little do you realise, I see through you now, I saw through you everytime. I knew you shall destroy me bit by bit, pieces into pieces. But I let you.

I let you because I needed to learn.

Albeit, have I learnt still remains a mystery... and so does the question, do I want to learn.
You know everything of me. Yet there is a lot that I hide from you. There is a lot that you shall never know and you never should.
Today I still know and face it. It was you each time.
In a different face. In an altogether different way each time.
Someday, when I get the time from sorting the mess we've built around me, I shall introspect. And I shall realise that I have been foolish - loosing a contest willingly when I didn't stand a chance to win in the first place. I could've never won. If I ever came close to it anyways, you'd have backed out and re-entered the contest as an entirely different person. Hah! Caught you.

Funny thing, eh?


... The End.

See ya around!

As you like it..

We.. we are a funny bunch of people.
when someone is a depressive person, why is that person thought of as a maniac?

What about those who laugh at silly jokes? and what about those who really crack those jokes?
When a person laughs or thinks that he can laugh, it's just an expression of an emotion. Similarly when a person is perpetually angry or upset, its just an emotion too.
Why would people think or pass negative judgements about that person?

How naive can we be?
If a person is upset, its not just a way of life. Why can't we acknowledge that someone might just have to be upset? Depression is not welcomed, it creeps in - unwilingly at that. And the worst part - it refuses to wear out. It's like age. It grows untill the air is too thick to breathe.
It makes one feel like garbage and it makes one whine even when others think it's unnecessary. The world maybe a beautiful place. Ever wondered why would anyone be oblivious to the primary beauty of existence? Pray! Its because some unworthy souls have their lives full of murk and filth enough to provide them with the darkness to sink all brightness in its garb.

Let me also tell you what makes us naive:
Judgement in individual lives is just as certain as death and taxes. We judge people way too quickly and then life is too short to allow us to change our judgements. So, when we notice someone whining, we believe, almost instantly, that the person cannot be in need of the morose expression all the time. However, we choose to completely ignore the fact that we dont know the person entirely. What if the depression is the only state that can help them gain some mental stability (which is true, for a lot of people)? What if the person has been through much more than what can be borne by a "normal" human being and yet the person chose to live over the idea of a convevnient cease of life?
But we are vain. We cant live with the fact that someone somewhere has a real reason to complain whereas we just crib about the bad roads, bad weather, bad sex, bad relationship or a bad hair day. When someone is complaing about a bad relationship, little does the person think that someone else might really even be in a relationship which makes life miserable.

Why does one's own sorrow always seem mammoth? Why would one think that if I can live through what I have, anyone else can live through anything? Why can people not assume that maybe (just maybe) someone somewhere was not made to bear what he had to bear? Why can't people believe that at times sorrow, even if it seems little to someone else, can wear an entire heart or a soul?

Here's to wishing people just let the depressed be - regardless of the judgements.

Anyways,
See ya around!