Thursday, September 21, 2006
What is wrong with me? Has my conduct in life been so far wrong and so inappropriate that I need corrective mechanisms to be put in place so I can function as a right minded cog in the well-oiled (read bribed), much maligned (read the newspapers), oft-abused (ask any citizen) machinery that I am to be part of… Actually the question is: Am I part of the machine or is the machine part of me??? Is this my job, or is this me? I have never been my books, my friends, my parents, my society, my cousins, my lovers… they have been around at one time or the other depending on importance and necessity, but all through it, I have been me.
Suddenly, here I am where there is a conscious effort on to make me feel guilty of being who I am. I like me, I like being me, and I am comfortable with me. Nearly four weeks and I am struggling very hard to respect the ‘others’ for who they are, but their right of swinging their arm, rather their right of using words directed at me, ends where my ear begins. Their words cannot delve deep into my mind, let alone my psyche… if they want to reform someone, go find someone who needs it… I am not screaming for attention, it is not my fault if I look the way I do, wear what I do and think the way I do.
My mind has been carefully groomed, sharpened and edged to cut through bullshit. Social graces are almost inherent by virtue of birth, personal grace is what I was born with, and my dressing sense has been honed under the scanner of people who revel, celebrate and enjoy the way I look. I will give you the inch that you ask, but do not grab the whole fucking kilometer. In that case, I shall give it right back and twice the intensity at least, if not more. And if you want me to look interested, then for heaven’s sake have something worthwhile on display…
Disclaimer: These are my personal views, does not bear any burden on any organization, person, or combination of the two, whether living or dead, real or fictional in any which way.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
the leaf had a name
the name was yours
she stared hard at the name, hoping that the bleak letters would metamorphose into real flesh and blood
so she sent the leaf on its way to the ground
there it met with soft earth
it took on the color of earth
they said that it dried up
rain fell on it for days
they said it was decaying
then it turned into dust merging with the soul of the earth
they said it died
Sunday, September 03, 2006
If I could help it, I would never be here... No, that is a lie! I can always help being where I want to be... what is bothering me is the question: Did I really want to be here? And the ancilliary thoughts that creep up as a consequence... If I wanted to be here, did I want to be isolated and unhappy? If I didn't want to be here, then how the hell did I get here?
The next set of queries also arise: is there a way for me to alleviate my condition? Is there a way for me to escape?
The worst part is that in my quest for answers, all I find myself doing is providing myself with endless justifications... I believe that is a very dangerous sign.. it is the path to doom and destruction of my self... just as the mist covers this town in the hills, it seems to me that I'm trying to cover my eyes with the veil of the so-called life, responsibilities and the semblance of societal independence that I hope to get out of my incarceration...
I need to have a job... this is a good job... this job shall provide me with social standing, as i intend to be a single woman... etc...etc...etc...
silly excuses all of them, I do hope I have the intelligence to spot when I'm stopped being who I am and become what I do.. and I do hope I have the gumption to let go then...hope I do not fool myself any further with more excuses then.. right now, I have to give this a shot, and a fair shot at that....I owe that to myself! Or do I?