It’s like she said, people always leave and when the time is right, you let them go and hold onto the one who will remain forever..
Have you ever being so invested in someone’s life that you unwittingly started dictating their lives?
But here’s the catch, what if that someone doesn’t even know you?
The Peeping Toms
Since the development of the mankind, man has been far more interested in other’s affairs than his own. Grass is always greener on the other side because we are more interested in the grass growing on the other side.
Also, this provides us temporary, but much needed distraction, from our unsorted affairs. I mean the affairs aren’t going anywhere, are they?
The internet is full of the so-called Peeping Toms, looking for new targets to serve as their distraction. And the most common targets? Of course, the ever-so-popular celebrities and their long list of relationships. The cause of our secret desire as well as envy.
Ever since all kinds of stuff about celebrities became easily accessible, their private lives are no longer theirs to claim. If you are a fan, you can most likely keep a track of every movement of your favourite celeb, and that too sitting countries afar.
Via the net, of course.
Everything they do sets a deep impact on you.
They recommend a book, and you start reading it, even though you’re not much of a reader.
Movie choices, album selections, brands, dressing-styles, hairstyles, you try to imitate almost everything of theirs.
Suddenly, their lives are religiously followed, their twitter and facebook profiles are visited every couple of hours, fights are taken up to support them, no matter how peace-loving you are, and people, you may not know or like, are followed, just to get an inside scoop, especially on their dating life.
In short, you start to idolize them and their lives.
All Hell Breaks Loose
So when that said celeb does something that breaks that ‘perfect image‘, all hell breaks loose.
You bash them left, right and centre, threaten to unfollow them, actually unfollow them, and carry on discussions bashing them on Facebook, WhatsApp and basically any place you find, with like-minded people into the wee hours of night.
In the hope that they’ll hear you, not literally of course.
So interested you become in what they do, who they date, that you actually try to dictate your wishes on them. Like they haven’t got lives or something. Like they are not entitled to their share of decisions: good or bad. Like we, strangers, will know what’s best for them.
But luckily, humans tend to have a very short memory when it comes to others.
So that interest is soon forgotten.
You get over being ‘in love‘ with a celeb, and your little obsession is cured. All thank to that little ‘betrayal’.
This type of thing happens to many people, me being one of them, and while the others face similar infatuations with other obsessions that they try to get control on.
What is important is to give a person enough credit to decide for himself and if he’s making bad decisions, it’s his life. Screw him!
Why waste your precious emotions on someone, who may not even value them, when you could be dictating yourself to the best time of your life?
For this week’s challenge, Weekly Writing Challenge: The Sound of Silence, a letter from an Anonymous, speaking about silence.. through my POV..
“It’s something so common for me, like a language, for it has inadvertently replaced my mother-tongue. Like a second skin to cover my tanned exterior. Like a wall, that shields me from the world, and sometimes, me. Like the pillow to which I’ve narrated countless feelings, and still they remain unheard..and anonymous. Like a best friend, who comforts me in the dark, and unseeingly holds my hand, as I walk through their corridor.
It’s something that the oppressor have repeatedly desired from the oppressed, for it is the later’s weakness.
It’s something that it takes for the world to be happy with you, for to not have it tags you ‘rebellious’.
It’s something that every individual desires from another, even if it is for a moment.
It is something of me that gives you the right to comment on me.
It is something of me that makes it okay for you to bully me in that corridor.
It is something of me that makes it acceptable for you to abuse me in the darkness of night. Or maybe, even in a crowded bus.
It is something that the society taught me was good.
It is something that we all speak at some part of our lives. Some more than the others.
It’s something that the dominating spouse demands from you.
It’s something that a parent demands from you, and you, in turn, from your child.
It has long been the unseen glue that holds a marriage, or for that matter, every relationship, together.
An abuser’s fantasy.
A secret to be your boss’s favourite, sometimes.
Or sometimes, it is just to prevent suspicions from falling your way, or just, making you look bad.
It is something that has long being said is one of the most beautiful jewel to adorn the human, yet when I wear it, you term me weak.
It resonance may be golden, but remember when that resonance fades and there is the dull hanging in the air, you may hear a symphony that will rock the air out of your lungs, for it will be in that moment when I will discard this jewel and adorn a more precious jewel: My Voice.
I’m sure you would’ve met quite a few fools in your life to spare me the trouble of explaining the term to you. Maybe, in some cases, like mine, you would’ve been called a ‘fool’ a couple of times.
Our society tries to maintain its distance from the ‘fools’. They look down upon them, like they’re some dirt stuck to the tip of their polished shoes, which they would do anything to get rid of.
And so, no one voluntarily wants a ‘fool’ to be their friend.
But what makes you a fool? Questioning the obvious, trying to find a way to make the impossible possible, and making yourself vulnerable to deception, are a couple of things.
Just basically, anything that defies the set logic of the society, is enough to guarantee you the name tag, ‘fool’.
But is it a bad thing?
Sure, it makes you an easy target for the cheats and the frauds – mainly because you trust so much, but also because the said society doesn’t give a sh*t to whatever happens to you.
But, in the bigger picture, you may benefit from being called a ‘fool’. Actually.
Look at Einstein, Newton, Gandhi, and Mandela. They’ve had their share of ridicule, been mocked for their unconventional ideas, and strutted upon by their contemporaries and the society, but they stood unflinched on their beliefs and irradical thinking. If that made them ‘fools’, they couldn’t care less. And now they own a significant portion for themselves in shaping the world’s history.
So, when someone calls you a ‘fool’, remember you’re one step closer to leaving that orthodox thinking.
In fact next time, deliberately try ‘being foolish’ for a change. Who knows, the world may even benefit from your ‘foolishness’.
Happy Valentine’s day to y’all! Although, the day has ended on my side of the planet, nonetheless.
So, this week’s Weekly Writing Challenge: My Funny Valentine? gave me an idea. (Well, what can I say, I love challenges and love twisting them in my own way!)
Considering how this day is such a big deal for everyone, for the obvious reasons to the ones who have a valentine, and a day to find one for some of us who don’t, I decided to explore the natural tendency of the human race to find love.
Do we actually deserve the love we claim we deserve?
Just give it a read…
You claim it’s what you seek,
a love beyond your greatest belief,
yet you hide in your deepest corners,
the dark shadows of your grief.
You think another glass could
hide the cracks of your past,
but don’t you know,
this illusion won’t forever last?
You weigh love with,
whatever pleases your jaundiced eye.
But what if, that look,
is just an illuding, beautiful lie?
You seek the loving company,
yet your heart secretly desires solitude,
for it can’t bear being trodden upon
by the clash of egos and attitude.
You say that you deserve love,
yet hate is all you’ve spread,
and so high is the mountain
of carcasses of relationships dead.
You say you seek the light,
but say, how’ll it thrive,
when the darkness that you hide beneath,
won’t let it survive?
If you seek love, then do it for all the right reasons..and if or when you do find it, maybe it’s a good idea to not let the issues, trust, commitment or other, to burn out what they say, the most beautiful feeling in the world.
Till then, it’s better to stay single!
This is something I wrote for Weekly Writing Challenge: Leave Your Shoes at the Door.. Not too great but hope you still like it.
The p.o.v. of a stranger watching another stranger travel daily..
“I see you take the same route everyday. Headphones in your ears, your lips moving rhythmically, as you try to sing along the lyrics. Your eyes, they move curiously, shying away from a stray pair of eyes, that may just happen to land on you. That’s when you’d tuck a stray lock of hair, fallen astray from your loose hair, behind your ears. Your cheeks a brilliant shade of red, with the unwanted attention.
“Occasionally, you’d shake your shoulders as if you’re doing a step in your mind to match with the beat, and pretending to be ignorant, when you see me looking right at you.
“There is a sprint in your step, a glint in your eye, or is it a drop of unshed tear that you are trying so hard to mask with your smile?
“You try to move your way all the way to the front of the crowd, your feet always in a hurry, yet you pause for the old lady to pass by.
“You see everyone, yet you’re lost in your own world. A world of peace, no doubt, from where you find that lost smile. Or maybe, it’s a world of hope, that you’ve clutched on so tightly, that reflects in your smile.
“You may not be the most beautiful person but there is something about you that allures me to you. Something that shows me how beautiful you are inside.”
I’m not sure where I’m going with my life these days. It’s just been taking on one day after another…trying to breathe. Trying to wait for the right opportunity to bounce back.
For what? Even I don’t know.
Maybe some miracle…maybe someone.
Just to hold my hands, and listen to my useless chatterings, that I keep day-long, locked under the shield of my lips..
Just to help me through my quirks..
Just to answer to the stupidest questions I may ask..
Just to support me through every wrong decision I make..
Just to help me find me again, who I lost somewhere along the line, piece-by-piece, due to circumstances, betrayals, trusting too much, and a childhood that’ll never return.
I’m tired of being misunderstood, so please..
Just be a friend to me.
Till then, I’ll be here, trying to fight the daily battle of survival, in the state of freefall, direction-less, with my words waiting to be heard.
If you ask anyone what will their three wishes be, that they’ll want the Genie from Aladdin or a ‘wishing well’ to grant them, they are most likely to answer the 3 M’s..
Money that will rule all,
Marriage that will conquer all,
and Make-up that will conceal all.
Or at least most of the people will..
Money and marriage, I understand. Like, who doesn’t want a luxurious lifestyle with their spouse, huh?
But what I don’t understand is the need of people to conceal them with layers of make-up.
And i speak metaphorically too.
Though, I hardly use make-up in a day-to-day life, I am a thorough user of the ‘metaphoric’ make-up.
And it’s not just me.
Millions of people have covered their true selves with tonnes of make-up.
And why is it so?
Maybe they’re afraid to be judged, maybe they’re afraid to reveal their all, or maybe they’re just busy pretending to be someone else.
In my case, it’s a mixed proportion of all the three.
So, what if someone tries to crack this shard of make-up, hardened over the years of ill-experiences and betrayals, and try to be someone they know they are?
What if someone tries to ‘make-over’ themselves, to try and be the better ‘I-am-as-I-am’ version of themselves?
The looks department is comparatively easier.
But once you’ve changed your looks, how do you go about changing the person beneath that look?
How do you go about removing the ugly, hardened mass of make-up, that has formed over your innards?
Because, let’s face it, there is nothing more beautiful than your true inner self.
There are 47 million blogs at WordPress.com and every single one has a unique story to tell. Today, we’re proud to introduce you to WordPress.com blogger Matt, the man behind Must Be This Tall To Ride, a hilarious and often poignant chronicle of his life as a single divorced father. Matt took some time out to talk to us about where he gets his ideas, how he came up with the witty name for his site, and what blogging has meant to him.
How did you get started blogging?
Last April 1, my wife packed a suitcase and moved away forever. April Fools’ Day. Fitting. Her new boyfriend was a big shot. Tall. Successful. Rich. And I was just…me. Dumped. A nobody. And not just any nobody. An emotionally wrecked nobody who cried. What woman is going to ever date a dude who cries?
I felt really small…
View original post 983 more words
So, another challenge caught my eye, Weekly Writing Challenge: Lunch Posts, and I instantly remembered my school days, so thought of writing a poem, which was intended to be a short one, but that’s what happens with me sometimes..
it’s weird that i’d remember, you know,
for i didn’t care much for you back then.
it was a time unvalued,
gosh! how long it’s been since then.
as the chalky white words were written
via the canvas of the board on our books,
we’d find a chance to open
a secret away from the teacher’s looks.
bite by bite as it all vanished
into a well, mysteriously deep,
trying our best to mask the smell
so the secret remained ours to keep.
covering the potholes of secret,
we looked on with naive eyes
masking the chewing as a habit of hands,
we tried to sell our harmless lies.
no, we weren’t obese or severely starved,
just 12 o’clock lunch was ages away
back-benchers, with bags covering the view
grabbing every opportunity to feed our stomachs away.
hardly we were ever caught,
you know, we were a clever lot,
the best ones in the school prolly,
the stomach’s pain feeding our folly.
strange, how we were forever hungry,
and gobbled everything that our mothers gave,
along with a special canteen recess, later,
with the pocket money that we’d always save,
for now the lunch boxes
are brought home, as they were,
no longer a stash of secrets,
to be eaten at the 9th hour.
it is a memory, of the days,
when sat all the girlfriends,
gobbling from the other’s lair,
to carry on the innocent affair.
Lots of love..