Talking to a Wall

Lately I have been surrounded by people who in epilogues of daily parlance feature as “brick walls”. Yes, the analogy is right and doesn’t correlate to walls in respect of their toughness. Rather, this is meant to connote those with have fixated opinions, with clogged minds and are obstinate enough so as to completely disregard opinions of others.

Here is another example elucidate this concept further. When you shoot a bullet, or throw something at a wall, the tendency of the bullet or object to ricochet exists. But, the direction of the same isn’t something that might be  contemplated, for the bullet might just lodge itself into the wall or bounce back in any direction depending on the texture and evenness of the wall. Similarly, “wally” people have the ability to digest few things or hit back without much reverence. There is no pattern. Similar in this regard is when you go on top of a mountain and shout out loud into the valley. The echo might fascinate you, but the idea of the example is to showcase how receptive “wall-kind” people are. If you shout out a sentence into the valley, you will surely here yourself. But you might just notice, that the entire sentence isn’t the part being recited, rather just the last part . The gist of the matter is lost to the surrounding and only what is hailed last stands out. Similarly, “wally” people are receptive to very less, and are generous in giving back answers. They place keywords of a conversation, differently and give back answers without much ado.There doesn’t really remain much field to draw in reason but only a wordplay of jargon being shot at to establish a jovial juvenile false sense of superiority.
Talking about “walls” and not mentioning Facebook walls would be an anathema in the new social scenario. But having a wall to showcase your being and being a wall are two mutually exclusive things. One might obviously resort to posting ‘ I Don’t give a F**k about you” pics on their wall, but displaying that blatant disregard is a different ball game altogether. On FB, you use the medium of communication for dissemination of such opinions, knowing the effectiveness is limited and it’s merely a statement than an action. When it comes to being a wall, the foreground is set by rigidness and a premeditated notion of self-superiority and self-righteousness. It’s only appalling to think of such people, for when you become a wall, or start placing your ego before knowledge, you dig you grave right there, right then.
“Rather crumble away in glory, than be painted upon by such hegemony and prejudice. Lose your ego, not yourself”

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A Thought of Fiction

a thought of fiction

I am a player of randomness, and it is my domain. To be beyond it is an idea so appalling, for randomness is not chaos, it’s just an idea of free will. So, swerving into randomness, I had an idea of utter brilliance with a streak of absurdity. What if, the words we speak were not an element of our conscious mind, but that of our subconscious. So to speak, our speech were the manifestation of our free mind and free will, rather than thoughts subjugated to societal hegemony and crass disposition of those around us. Would that make the world a better place to live in or not?

Just to make this clear, the subconscious isn’t just grey matter with only perception but no initiation. The subconscious is the background of the scenery that you paint through the course of your life. So basically the girl in the picture isn’t the most outstanding feature of the painting, it maybe the scenery in itself, hence is said, see the bigger picture in life :p. Nobody would like Julie Andrews dancing to the track of “The Sound of Music” in the backdrop of Gothic metal heads.So, the background does matter and in a way influences the center piece. What we see isn’t what we believe in, it is always what we are told to believe in, is where we vest our trust. Had we actually believed in what we saw, the subconscious and conscious wouldn’t be two tiers of thoughts, but reflections of each other, with one being just a little more refine than the other.

What we are subconsciously is very sublime and innate to the idea of our being. But what we put forth consciously maybe just the way we want to be. In college, we choose to hang around with a set of people, who supposedly are very cool, whereas deep down we want to be amongst those geeks at the book club. We persist in our efforts of making to the football team, something that we suck at, but don’t step into the auditions for the lead to that play we always loved. In such situations, if ever there was a possibility where you could just speak out whatever you wished too, life would certainly become less complicated.

Complexity in life is like the basement of a dungy house and you are the spider in it. Either you roll around weaving a constant thread and walk away from the hell hole or sit cooped up, weaving constant webs around in the same place till you yourself get tangled in them and die a miserable death.

Here is another thought on subconscious mind. Have you seen the movie Lucy or Limitless? If you have, who would you weigh in as the champion of situations, the conscious or the subconscious. Well, subconscious in indeed limitless, but to be fair to consciousness, it does channelize the subconscious thoughts, but not in a way so as to distort them.

Will subconscious eradicate the element of pretentiousness? Well, it just might. But then, it again depends. Those who are habitual liars and pretenders, believe inherently that what they are doing is the best for them. So, the subconscious mind, which is the reflection ,has been indoctrinated into believing just that. The eyes and the ears, see and hear things differently and thus, the subconscious has a different story to tell.

Everything is after all just a story, just an idea. Few grasp onto real life, rest fade into our subconscious and die forever.

The Relic of Euphoria

Freedom

As I boarded off the subway, and headed through the alley onto the staircase, the breeze sunk me down and I was hit by that feeling again. The feeling that I have been dreading for the past one year, every enviable moment that reminds me of her. I came to despise myself that such an aberration to the beauty of the city of Delhi, has come to play such a significant part in the entirety of my ephemeral existence. I was clad with emotion and the sense of vulnerability swayed me over the edge. Regardless of how I felt, I continued to gaze across the ambiance that Connaught Place had to offer. It’s too delicate a situation, when your feet sit still, weighing you down as you walk, for every step that you take it a constant reminder of a past that no more recites itself with same fervor as it did at a point of time. Every place you see is a memory of her, and even though you desperately try to avoid the reality, it catches on. It’s hard to blame a place, for it just stands there whilst you look away and rage into a string of expletives which your mind desists. It still exudes its pleasant vibes which had once drawn you towards it, and comforted you well so as to become symbol of your love.

So, I kept walking around with a lot of random and awkward gazing. As I continued on my daredevilry, the paraphernalia of CP no more shackled me with nostalgia. Maybe it was just the weather, or the people or just the fact that amidst my stroll, I had forgotten about her or had let go of my objective strain to see the place as raunchiness of heartbreak and pain. The place which emasculated my very soul, suddenly seemed to enrich me with a feeling of rave bravado. I wondered whether the feeling that had been haunting me for the past year, wasn’t the feeling of misery and sadness, instead was a feeling of warmth and love that I had chosen to cloak in eternal sadness, for the face to that memory had become too much of a burden to bear. I had started to love this place, in fact I always did.

So, amongst the crowd I walked with my new found endearment for CP. For the new found wisdom was too captivating, a jovial me walked through the crowd with a new feeling. Now and then, I would feel the urge to go back, for maybe the feeling was too overwhelming that my wretched heart could absorb. But then I would force myself to carry on and loose myself in the moment and in the crowd like a faceless lovelorn creature who had somehow found a key to bypass the deceptive heart and its ways.   The feeling was her blessing, for she has made it special. She may not feature in the picture of my life anymore, but I knew one thing, the place which once stood as a relic to my love shall forever remain so. The feeling I had sensed at every minute with her by my side, had become a part of me. This feeling had beset a feeling of dismay at a point of time, when her betrayal clouded the love that I had found in her. But, when I finally gave in to the idea of fate, the cloud evaporated and the warmth returned.

I will return to that place again, and you shall see me with my strident steps, embracing the air like a carefree child. I will know no sense of fear, rather will blaze away in the sun with my candor and euphoria to live a life of love again.

Violence begets Violence

Since eternity to the ages that shall pass, violence has been the prelude to many achievements that changed history. Violence at the helm and violence in the household, the agenda maybe something trivial or maybe something of great significance, but violence is never productive. Yet, it continues to feature in the daily parlance of every language and culture. The novelty isn’t in the act of it, but in how easy it has become to resort to such measures in the modern world.

In the onset of belligerence in the middle east, there is something unbecoming in the way we see things. It’s not a religion or certain cult of people that seem to have taken stage, it’s bitter disregard for humanity catapulted by poverty, illiteracy and ineptitude to find unity in the face of adversity.  On one side, if lack of governance is an issue, in Ukraine, the very presence of it has become detrimental in perpetrating chaos to fulfill political agendas at the cost of precious lives.  When propaganda of violence is placed before people, beliefs are hijacked and emotions are flared. Rationality remains a concept far from being conceded to, and violence seems appealing. We as human beings are fickle individuals,who are bound to draw comparisons. When the comparisons are placed in narrow context on territorial or religious beliefs, the opponents party to such debates get highly stratified and their ideas distorted. Lack of coherence is then used by proponents of violence to sway people against each other and violence ensues. The apocryphal nature of certain beliefs, wherein the line between fervor and faith is a trail of blood has been the deciding factor to resolving issues.

The pestilence of ” love for chaos and violence” is diminishing not only the physical existence of humans, but at a moral level, is responsible for disparaging our position as the leaders of evolutionary existence. If our mental prowess is insufficient for us to fathom that killing those around and embracing Darwin’s Survival of the fittest as a daily concept to live by, then we are bound to meet a similar fate as those dinosaurs’ ,which now find themselves showcased at museums. In the aftermath of such a fate, probably the continuum between extinction and rejuvenation shall give birth to another species which shall find itself allured by the history of the extinct homo sapiens who now find themselves as a side-piece to the T-Rex collections at museums.