Yeah. Thought I might as well give it a go. Seeing how this is 2015, which we have already established is the new 2005, I thought I might get out the old blog, brush all the dust and cobwebs away and turn out a few odd posts.
And then I thought, why bother.
Then I thought, why not.
So here it is.
Which is all I could muster the enthusiasm for writing, this week. I shall go lurk on twitter and question received wisdom again. Good bye.
I was doing a bit of tinkering around this blog today. Mainly to add a link to the awesome, super cool, friendly, occasionally sardonic, web magazine Silver Screen.in (go here, folks: http://www.silverscreen.in)
If you don’t know Silver Screen, shame on you. Also, now you know. If any site could say, come for the glorious, high res, beautifully shot pictures; stay for the well written, mildly sarcastic, still star-struck in a good way stories, SilverScreen could.
Anyway. I was putting in a link to SS on my blogroll (hello there stranger, welcome back to 2005) and I spent a bit of time going through the rest of the links.
Where are all the good people gone?
Where, oh dear people, are all the good writers, the bad writers, the so-so writers gone? My blogroll leads to husks, the grain long gone. My blogrolls links to people who’ve long gone off to that strange, dark, mysterious place called the Real World, never to be heard from again. My blogroll is, if I may employ the metaphor, a graveyard of silent coffins and the occasional visitor paying respects.
Fare thee well, bloggers of 2005. And 2006. May your name carry on in 140 characters or fewer.–
So that was depressing. Sorry. Here’s one way to Cheer up.
Just a thought. This is the bloody future and it is not what I was told it would be.
Inexorably we march, and I would rather just sit this dance out, while mixing metaphors.
I had an argument with a relative of mine: What is goodness? What does it mean to be a good person?
For her, a good person is kind, generous and forgiving. I don’t blame her. We are brought up on a staple diet of maryada puroshattam Ram who is the epitome of everything good and nice. We are taught to give to the poor, to do charity and to forgive everyone who has wronged you. And that ladies and gentlemen, makes a good human being. Being a good human is the goal of your life and that is what you should strive for.
It doesn’t matter how you earned that money to get so rich to afford charity. It doesn’t matter that you don’t ask why there are so many poor people in the first place. It doesn’t matter that you keep getting wronged, you just have to forgive. DON’T ASK WHY!
For me, goodness is respecting yourself. Forgive only those who ask for your forgiveness. Stand up for yourself, stand up for others. Don’t do charity (I, personally, hate the word). How is it generosity when you give away Rs. 1000 and earn Rs. 10000000? Is this your sense of justice?
When I said this, I was questioned of why I work for the rights of survivors of violence? The answer is simple. When I respect my space, I respect the space of someone else. I understand that a woman or a child (or a man), just any human being has a right to just BE without violence. I believe the same for animals. (And hence, Pet Santa).
Goodness is being able to sleep at night knowing you did the best you could and yet feeling that tinge of guilt wishing you could have done more.
Am I selfish? Yes, maybe. I am fine with that. For me, the world doesn’t end at me. I am not self-centered yet I fight for what is mine. I will fight to restore balance as much as I can. I never not intervene thinking it isn’t my place.
Best thing about me is that I am pompous, unabashedly so and yet, will defend your right to say whatever you want.
What do you guys think?
(And yay, my first post on this blog. Thank you, C for letting me do this)
Has this happened to you? You take a decision, when you’re younger, and followed a certain path thinking it would take you to a goal you held to be absolute. And then, the path is no longer, it is not even circuitous. It becomes your prison and your habitat, much like the enclosures in a zoo.
I knew such was my case. I had known it for a while. This year, I leave that. This year, I will change. This year, I admit I was wrong, that the goal is true but my means aren’t.
Happy birthday, you who is at once holding me back and allowing me to run. You are as beautiful as you are flawed, each scar adding character to your face, each year making you more you. Happy birthday, Madras. Happy birthday, Chennai.