Life went by so quickly that it was impossible to keep track of all the things I had lost in the way. So many smiles I would never see again. So many roads I might never walk again. The old cassettes we thought were worthy to save and collect.
Life went by so quickly that it was impossible to keep track of all the things I had lost in the way. Like the way the bustling video shops closed down without any of us noticing. Like the way we could only reminisce now of how patient we used to be with lagging video games and weekly episodic melodramatic TV series.
Life went by and we evolved, grew and became the people we thought we would never. The veneer of innocence was lost someday and we never went back and searched for it.
Life went by and we lost things we never considered precious. But, now, some nights, they come back only to haunt. I am growing too fast. I am vanishing all too soon. If I had another chance, I would try to hold them tighter, but, then, I remember, sand sips out of anything that is broken, once. It’s done.
It’s such a brazen word, such a mouthful. Justice demands you to take it wholly inside yourself and grapple with it. It doesn’t get sidelined in a second or forgotten by the time it has been said, like peace or hope. It’s a heavy word, it doesn’t sit easy when uttered by one pair of lips and it needs more to join in. It doesn’t ask you whether you will be able to shout it. It has as much sway even when whispered.
Justice is such a brazen word, so much so the ones, who first decry it, are the last ones it reaches.
We’ve all been trained to exclude someone. It could be anyone. Literally anyone. And we all have our exclusions. Each one of us.
You have been given good justification and proper time to cultivate that tree in your mind that exclusion of that person is right. You meet people who exclude the same people and become satisfied with that belief more. It’s easy.
It’s inclusion that will be troublesome. You’d have to admit what you were taught was wrong, accept that a certain unlearning is required and actually take steps to withdraw from that school of thought. It’s a lifelong process. It’s hard. But it’s right.
When you look back at your life at 50, 70 or from your death bed, may you be filled with content that you lived a life that didn’t discriminate one hand from another, one soul from another.
There are so many people. They’ve so many stories. Sometimes they reflect a certain degree of discontentment, and their lips shiver and their eyes… They become wet, and then they let us explore a side of theirs no one ever could. There are so many with the tragedy of partition, there are so many mothers waiting for their son to come home, from that late night party, drooling of disgust, drunk and inebriated, and the strict fathers getting that phone call that their son didn’t make it through the accident.
There are so many lovers trying their best to help the other, the girl with that golden smile, left alone in the dark of the city, waiting to be rescued, and you see from the far away corner of the road, her smile glowing frequently. There are so many grandmothers taking care of their druggie grandchildren.
The echoes of these stories are heard thoroughly by every passerby, and these stories continue to echo, for days and days and years and centuries.
“My son, was the best son.”
“We gifted him a car. It killed him.”
“I loved him, but he left me.”
“Addicts never change.”
There is and old saying “It’s better to be slapped with the truth than kissed with a lie” and I am among a very selected few that actually believe this rings true. People say they want the truth but in reality they want you to say what they want to hear.
Maybe it’s me there is problem with, maybe I need to stop being honest with people. I mean what’s the point upfront and honest with people when they would be happier living a lie and having you consign for it. They say ignorance is a bliss maybe that’s why intelligent people go insane, it is truly burden to know and feel so much and know there is no way a good majority of people will ever able to understand, share and or appreciate your thoughts, gestures and opinions. People are so used to other lying and being fake, honesty is now taboo. People look for hidden meaning in words that have none because everyone is so accustomed to bullshit; no one says what they really mean.
One thing you can always count on me for you is to take my words at face value and this is why I now stay to myself. I don’t fit in this society or this generation; I’m not plastic enough.
When someone comes to you to rant about an issue that may seem ‘insignificant’ to you, hear them out. And never tell them how other people have it worse and/or quote instances from your own life of issues that seem ‘bigger’ to you, completely disregarding their problem thus. For at times, all that people need is a person willing to listen to them, however little sense they make and simply be, if not anything else. And doing something of that sort does not just drive them further in their problem but also adds on a sense of insecurity and inferiority; and a guilt in them for having approached someone for an issue so ‘wee’, resulting into something as drastic as them never breaking out of their own shell and opening up again.
Doesn’t harm lending someone an ear for a while, does it?
If we learn to be content with minimal things.
Then we find ourselves feeling rich no matter what life brings.
A man with three meals and a bed is rich to those that go unfed, and he is envied by Those who have no bed.
Contentment is a place that few have seen, we are divided from it by a sea of greed.
Mountains of envy too stand in the way,
“If I only had that” is what we often say