Makes no sense to me...

Behind the mask, the beautiful face casts its radiant smile, blinding and scorching the very essence of the bearer and causing a shudder to the observer. Yet, the beauty enchants and forces the embrace that turns into shackles that cannot be broken by mere whim or by the force of iron, for the shackles are not physical restraints but rather the ramifications of the imaginary locks on the thoughts of the mind. Pray, tell, how can one fight this? Should one endure this pain? Need not, it is just a simple solution of making oneself happy – like the “Expecto patronum!” charm against the dementors. Yet, it is so difficult to be happy, when one chooses to wallow in the never ending pits of one’s own selfishness and other’s self-centredness! Night grows into a day. As the hidden masks wear off and the light scatters the darkness around, few lives are stumbled into the darkness, those that spring to life in the darkest hour of the day. In the closed walls of the house, the demons of the lust embrace the insecurities that spur from the need of dominion and unleash their cruelty on to the weaker hearts – the demons enjoying the pain and pleasure alike. A welt or a lash, both pain as such, but the true hurt comes from the cold shoulders of the one you love. How easy it is that one forgets the journey to a destination, alas, is it not the race run than the race won that makes the win memorable, yet, the race run is always masked by the moment’s glory. How sad can that be? Sadder still, the paths covered with the tears are now covered with the flakes of snow – the snow caused by the coldness of the travellers! Perhaps, by now, the paths of the earth should have been filled with snow everywhere – making it difficult to breathe. Since it is otherwise, may be there are kinder folks, and happiness around, where the sun shines brightest and the rains come and go and the snow breezes through like a royal queen – visiting and enjoying the rare warmth before it unleashes its wicked face and swarms the warmth to nothing but a pale halo!

Impasse!

Is there a truth to bliss in relationships? When people from different worlds meet and walk along together a certain road, a bond is formed. That is true, with everyone. We form bonds with people we study with, work with, share a roof with. Are those bonds really strong or will they blow away after a certain time? isn’t it true, that most of the friends we had in school are a distant past, a few who come and go in intervals to say a “hi” or wish on a birthday? And same goes to college friends too, the occasional phone call, the occasional birthday wish and perhaps an occasional anniversary message or perhaps an occasional movie together or a luncheon together or a group dinner, etc. The same with ex-colleagues, despite spending more than twelve straight hours in office, the moment we leave the company, they are nothing but mirages on the road. And what about colleagues we work with? The people we spend considerable amount of time, the people with whom we have conversations that last longer than five minutes? Aren’t they outside the box when out of the office? what about people who live in the same house? Mother, father, brother, sister, husband, kids – all have their lives, the lives they fondly built. Despite naming them personal relations, despite naming them blood relations, are they any closer than the acquaintances we pass along lives? When the inner voice, closes out and refuses to open up and the so called relations cannot see the turmoil of the people they supposedly love, what for are all those relations? Is it all a farce? Yesterday, in a conversation with a friend whose company I immensely cherish, there was a statement that went along the lines that we create better stories than God. If God, the embodiment of happiness, peace, love and success, could not create the world that is happier – because the people in it are forever unhappy with something or the other, can humans, with their creativity create a better world? The fantasy that exists in the words that are black on white can make a happy place for a soul to dwell in, why cannot the reality make a relative difference and be a cause of happiness? The suffocation of truths and the disappointments of the facades, that camouflage the reality with such ridicule, are the mirrors of life and perhaps that is why the “bliss” in the bonds that exist in day-to-day life is so little! yet, supposedly they are essential for existence, yet, supposedly they are what people crave for! Why live in a world that suffocates the “YOU”? Perhaps, that is the way the world is and that is the place we are forced to live in, since the astronomical charts say that there is little hope of life in any other part of the galaxy and even if there exists such a world, the economy is insufficient to bear the costs of such a journey and even if it can be remotely possible to make such a voyage, the lifespan of people may not accommodate the travel and more importantly, we would still be living with the same people, who are the root cause of the problem! So, we still live in a world we detest, make a living, spend the earning and still go about bitching, through the forty odd years a person lives! Impasse!!!

Oh Well, not again!!!

“Why should I cook? It is a girl’s job!” I heard my brother stating vehemently. And the feminist in me took that as a sure sign of conflict, which triggered an age old debate of “Girl Job” and “Guy Job”. Boy, was I irked at that insolent tone or what! Define “girl job” for me please… just because a girl takes the responsibility of keeping a hot meal on the table twice a day, can that be labelled a girl’s job? I can show you a few hundred girls who do not know how to cook and I can show you a few hundred guys who do a grand job of putting a meal together.

And the topic went on and on about the usual “paycheck is earned by men”
“how difficult is it to cook a meal?”
“Men do all the hardwork in the family and girls just cook and sleep” etc etc etc…
I don’t even want to humble the questions with counter points. Seriously, I was surprised about the chauvinist attitude that I told him as such – to stop being such an MCP. Shudder!

I was wondering, however, what good is all that manliness if he cannot make a hot cup of tea/coffee or soup for a sick mother or wife or sister? Perhaps, that has something to do with over pampered morons who were fed three square meals a day irrespective of the state of their mother. Since, obviously fathers refuse to enter into the kitchen (barring my dad, ofcourse, who not only cooks buts feeds my mother when she is unwell!). why is it so difficult to inculcate sensitiveness into a guy’s brain, to have his eyes and ears open to the people who make his life easier? Hmpf!!!