We rant. That’s what we do the best. Not listening, not reading, but ranting. That’s what we do the best. So allow me to hitch a ride on this bandwagon. I seek your permission to rant about rants.
We rant for everything. We rant against everything. We rant for rant against everything. We rant against rant against everything. We rant on clichéd topics. Topics that have been burning us for decades. Topics that have burned the victims for decades. Yet we don’t douse the fires, we just rant about its devastation.
One of the few reasons I still use Facebook is to read interesting articles. I have been pruning my feed like a Gardener prunes the bushes. Still I find a lot of junk. Just in time to end the year, I found this great app called pocket which is like a Facebook for sharing articles. I hope I do a better job avoiding junk there.
So this new year I resolve to gradually shift my sources of articles to platforms other than Facebook. Let’s hope I am successful.
Have a happy new year!
(As an apology to everyone, here is a website with lots of positive news)
Let the illusion be, atleast for a while.
Till it doesn’t matter anymore.
I know its a lie, a charade to play by.
But it gives me hope.
Hope to trudge along.
Hope to survive.
Along the road, a time will come,
to heal my wounds, to moisten my tongue.
When I would look back and laugh
at the silly things I cried.
Tell me then, how wrong I was,
To believe what I believed.
To see what I saw.
For it won’t matter anymore.
She was an elf. With her looks and her quirks. Her red wavy hair dancing like fire in the night. She played with them again and again stealing a look every now and then.
The hints were thrown, the board was laid out. If only I had the wit to start a small talk. If only I had the courage to ask her out.
The train stopped. She stormed out. While I was busy computing how to say Hi.
Suddenly I realized I couldn’t recognize the streets. I was lost. Lost in a place that was not in my town, not even in my country. It was a place I often imagined while reading the novels of Azar Nafizi or Khalid Hosseini.
And I panicked!
Not because I was in an unknown place. Not because I had no idea how I got there. But because I had a lot of pending work to do, bills to pay, forms to fill and mails to send. I was under the impression that a lot in the world depended upon me.
It soon dawned upon me that it was all irrelevant. The world will carry on fine without me. I had no dues to pay. It was all a big hoax that I had created to make myself feel important.
And finally I was free! Forever!
What if wars were fought by words rather than guns. Armies would howl and growl curses at each other. Fiercer, angrier, louder voices would win. The losers would go crazy or their ears would burst or their eyes would pop out.
But isn’t that what is happening today. The louder and angrier would become the leaders. They would bark and scream to collect a mob. They would give them guns and bombs to fight a war. A mob has no ideology, a mob has no heart. And once you get a mob, you are halfway into the war.
Every war is fought by words, the bombs and guns are just these words exploding!