My Generation

Life is a precarious truce with death.
-The Ancientman
Exaggeration and euphemism, gags and brawls, rat race and romanticism, follies and speculation, meditation, levitation and all other trifles find their due place in this sojourn.
With liquor down its throat sets the sun everyday and honking horns plead for inches to take a forward stride. Some barter in morning light, others wait for dusk to descend.
Men are born and more cigarettes burn down. Wash basins flow and fishes stretch their sunbaths. Some laugh, and others see them laughing and some of them even smile in their sweet retrospection of laughing.
Charity begins at home and mostly prefers to stay there forever. Terrorism begins in the neighborhood but travels to Europe and the US too.
Pen is mightier than sword, keyboard is mightier than pen, microphone is mightier than keyboard.
Competition is the unpunished cannibal.
Politicians love poverty, citizens love movies and the country is still to find her real love. Isn’t religion your favorite hobby ? Well mine is racism. Nationalism is too old-fashioned.

If truth is beauty, all religions become ugly to the others. God is Himself ugly too. Every other thing in this world is either beautiful or ugly. There is no place for the average.
But most of us are like others. Most are average. Beauty is indeed confusing.Yet beauty-care has such a simple name – science?

Well individuality is important, humanity is even more important and feminism is most important.

Life only tells us to Live, let Live and create more lives to Live and let Live and its best for us to just follow.

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Just Another Weekday Morning

It was hours since I had started enjoying a great night’s sleep and it is almost time to see the uncensored version of my face in the bathroom mirror. The version which everybody display when their idle mouths are forced to accommodate objects akin to sticks and grant them the privilege of exploring and scrutinizing every nook and corner blessing them with foam, as if the malaria control agents are on their prowl, serving the society with DDT.

A chilly blow was enough and my moments of lost identity became history in a whisker as I sat up on my bed ,alarmed. The window before me took the pains of opening itself up and greeting me with sprinkles of cold rainwater droplets. And along came wild wind, gusting, as its humble followers, otherwise known as dust and wastes merrily congratulated me by landing all over me. What a unique way to start a day! As I sat back for a few confused seconds dodging between options.

• My option:1 being, letting go the intangible force that was stopping the hinge down my waist from performing normally and giving my back a right angle turn back to bed.
• and my option :2 being, shamelessly commit the act of grave injustice to my ‘just out of hibernation’ body and torment it to do the uphill task of carrying itself all the way to the window and close it, the ‘no, thanks’ way.

Being a highly compassionate person, I chose the first. And it was worth it. The tiny break involving the closing of window could not affect my concentration or divert my attention from the pious job I was entitled to do.

The job of helping human bodies in need.

Thus my act of benevolence found place in the hall of fame of all charities which began at home (and  perhaps loves the home  too much to leave) .

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