You know what’s annoying? Standing in a queue, it brings so much sadness to
your thoughts. A queue is something that usually makes you aware of what your
worth might be; the more your worth to the world, lesser the queues you would
have to stand in, but when you’re apparently in a queue it would treat you the same as
every other individual who is a part of it, queues do not discriminate as
people do. In a hate inflicted world which cannot catch a breath, a queue would be an
involuntary pause which lets you think about so many disparate aspects of life
which have been deliberately neglected and the possibilities they hold. I’m a
strong believer of fatalism, what I want to imply that death is inevitable and
very much real and our present social construct does not actually prepare us
well to deal with or rather knowing the life we have been bestowed with, it
keeps us busy and before we realize that we actually have a life to live, most of it
is blown away in a puff of smoke.
Supposedly, I am in a queue, the purpose is to obtain a worthless piece of
paper which I know is marginally going to make life easier, would gain me
nothing on a personal level but, here I am sweating in the scorching sun,
famished, succumbing to the traditions and hollow manners of the world, wasting
time which could have been invested in something productive and of actual value
(at least to me).
I am guessing that queues mustn’t have been invented, they would have just come
into existence, I mean who would want to invent something like a queue when
impatience is one of our basic and primordial personality traits. I cannot
imagine a man voluntarily giving his place to another and waiting in his stead.
We are not creatures of order, it has to be imposed on us, thus queues are
nothing but impositions, yes they do bulldoze order in situation of barbaric
unevenness yet, no matter how many facades it is put under but without it we
would wipe our existence out from the face of the earth. The sole purpose was
of this post is to bring out that queues aren’t really that uninteresting, there’s
lot more to it than its existence as a formation, it displays vivid colors of
human emotions in a single collective ; displeasure, hope, anger, succor and
maybe a little bit of romance. So, next time you’re in a queue just try and
embrace its intriguing projections lest whining.
Peeking out of the
stained glass window, gazing at the rain drenched grounds in hopes of being one
with the wet grass and just then the bell rings, like some divine intervention
saving you from the listlessness of some numbers being scrolled across the
board but a sudden realization of disparity present between reality and
fantasy comes creeping in, slowly turning that enthusiasm into mild reluctance
and then, out of nowhere comes a gentle push and you find yourself wrestling
with gravity in a freshly created pool of rainwater with your chums, with
each of them donning that smirk of satisfaction mixed with realization of the
consequences that were to follow which would fairly resemble the ones bored
for that blatantly whimsical episode with silver nitrate in the chemistry lab
but the smiles eventually withered as moments became memories and were never
relived as ‘growing up’ happened.
The heart became cold and uninviting as the years passed by and started to
loathe company as the world only reflected its own demeanor and was imminently
lost in the abyss of desolation.
The bounds of misanthropy have been slowly entangling our lives as a
constrictor since then, wrapping its cold skin around it prey and slowly
squeezing the life out of it, but then who’s to judge, sometimes death is a
blessing in disguise, there is a reason why it is called the end of all
sufferings. It is astoundingly wonderful to see how philosophies can bring
drastic changes in a man’s life, we all are working to please our brains and
well what could be better than getting it drunk on them, I think the key to
happiness lies in the power of convincing your mind( after you’ve taken care of
your belly of course). Misanthropy, a condition of being asocial,
conventionally thought as being an anomaly because we have defined ourselves as
social animals and most of us cannot summon the power to break out of that
shell and we never will.
We all have friends those we hate, love is a very strong word it has to be used
very carefully in these harder times, the implication being that the expression
of hatred requires so much less effort that its accepted antonym, what’s
arduous is to open your heart and let it pour as from a jeroboam of effervescent
wine. Our social lives but revolve around the ardor for superficial intimacies
and false displays of joviality and we work industriously to keep that boat of
illusion afloat. “I’m madly in love with my baby” is usually bestowed upon
shiny automobiles and gaming consoles, I rarely see anyone claiming that kind
of love for their fellow beings, maybe a few dogs. I don’t know who or what is
to blame or if it is the kind of human evolution we wanted for ourselves where even
hangouts are virtual. I guess we are reasoning too much, too much of pragmatism has blocked the artery of
jovial flow and the heart suffers from bliss-depravity. I guess we have to
reason with ourselves and question ourselves that what pragmatism explains
bearing so much of loss to gain such little.
Down it shall go with
a thousand reasons and they shall be the
ones to see it rise,
far on the horizon it shall swim above the forsaken land where they killed
their brothers and man,
the blood in which they bathe , seek
absolution in that cursed faith ,
gory shall hold no vice and justice shall be done without a pun
Where it shall be done ,it was then displayed, with what they played, the music
of night,
picked up a fight and it added to the
bass, he painted it red and to dogs it was fed ,
where the nights were bleak and he was weary,
witnessed the massacre of dreams, nothing seemed more dreary.
And the skies then turned crimson but it wouldn’t rain in blood,
but it poured and poured its heart out and we swam in that flood,
running down an epileptic road stirring up the spirits of the deep rooted
trees,
and their lament mixing with the wind ,acute pungency was the air’s clemency.
Meek and downtrodden becomes of the heroes, the peasant now excels archery,
gives away to savagery ,what mind couldn’t ever see, he participates in such
appalled debauchery
laughter of slaughters , slaughters of laughter echoed as music sublime,
yes, this is man , this is mankind and he is in his prime.
Seeks the dawn he when the sun shines upon his head,
trampled lay his brothers while darkness treads,
and chortles adversity in the run-down
corners,
embraces mendaciously the fallen cherubs,
but would still carouse in these lands unholy, the man and his cubs.
