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If We were not taught anything, anything at all. Wouldn’t We just Love

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Have you seen a baby, it just knows to love his parents, play with them! Have you seen him hurting anybody consciously? Many of you might say he cries and hurts people’s ears but he just cries to notify his parents if he’s hungry or needs some caressing.

As he begins to grow older, he learns anything and everything from his surroundings, his parents. How to behave, talk, speak, walk, eat and love. Yes, Love too. People are made this way, they learn by seeing and act the things they have observed previously.

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Similarly, we just learn anything which we see. Most of us are too naïve to actually check and filter things out before learning them. We are too amateur to know what’s right or what’s wrong. Before we learn that, we often fall for the wrong as it’s common and easy.

The kids learn the way their parents walk or talk, how they earn money, are they true or cheaters, how they behave with people outside their family and circle. Our parents are the first examples we see, the first perspective that we can see and learn from.

And then the kids are put in school to emboss the fixed ideas under the skin, the ideas that make the world just a limitation. The Discipline that just is beyond bounds and sometimes leave no open space to breathe. ‘School’ teaches the same ancient stories of prince or princesses or a poor history which is filled with the most important battles. Battles, why should a child know about them? When the baby’s brain is the most fertile, why is he not taught of the inspiring stories which make him want to be like the heroes who made the world a better place. Why is he not given a room full of millions and billions of books, paints, music, mic, laptop; Why is he not given a choice to be anything in the damn world? Why is he not given a chance to be just anything? Why is he not given a chance to showcase what he knows from his life? Why is he made to think that there’s a lot more in this world to learn and living here is tough, when he can just be taught to live the life with morality and humility? Why is he not given an opportunity to make mistakes?

Why are we taught so many things when they can come naturally to us? Did we learn to love our parents from anywhere, or to laugh, to breathe, to cry, when it came naturally to us, why are we taught in masses so many same old ideas that are just not relevant today. Their being taught makes them a norm, and when a person can’t relate to that, he thinks he’s not normal.

Love for parents comes to a baby, naturally. A baby who has loved someone, can’t he love a partner on his own? But as the baby grows, he sees the bad side of the coin of love, he learns about the adultery, cheating, selfishness in love and gets perplexed and puzzled of the true idea. So what was originally in his heart gets foggy as he grows up.

The truth is within us already but to get to it, we follow a cycle, we have made it a tough thing. First, God sends the truth within us, then we have to forget that, then we are taught life-lessons from people around or school and then spending half our life we realize it’s not right so we unlearn it all, and finally, we learn the truth. The thing is its very simple.

So, why do we make it tough, why do we get taught various things just to find out they’re not right. Why can’t we just follow our life the way god made us.

 

 

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My modesty is my pride…

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My modesty is my Pride. I am not a modest I choose to be one. I choose to be proud at me in silence than exaggerating or publicizing myself in front of everybody.

My silence is my dignity, my pride. Because I’d be judged if I speak, I’d be judged if I don’t. So I’d let my silence be the reason of your judgment and your judgments be the reason of my silence and an insight of you to me.

 

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What’s her Identity?

Isunday don’t believe in truth anymore; I believe everything is relative.  Nothing is absolute and perfect as the ‘change’ itself.

My next words are not an article, essay or a letter but a set of questions. I spend my day enjoying the moments but my nights are mostly spent sleepless. I’m nothing but an entangled human.

I’m confused between myself and my nature, my behavior and my identity. Yes, they’re all very different and they’ve put me in an abysmal confusion.

I’m at a point where I can decide what to eat, cook, buy, where to go, whom to befriend, what to say, all the things a normal person does. But the thing I can’t make heads or tails about is my own-self.

I’m someone’s Daughter—
Obedient, stubborn, innocent, lovable

I’m someone’s Sister—
Younger, naive, responsible

I’m someone’s Wife—
Compassionate, selfless, devoted

I’m someone’s Mother—
Affectionate, forgiving, teacher

I’m someone’s Friend—
Understanding, humorous, trustworthy

I’m someone’s relative, someone’s employee, someone’s colleague—
Agreeable, professional, cordial.

But all these are just the roles that I play each day. I behave well with all, kith and kin, acquaintances and even strangers. That’s my nature and my behavior. But sometimes I want to shout out loud, make my points, express my desires but the etiquettes get in the way of my nature all the time. My nature is to flow; the etiquettes are the hindrance.

And then after the role-playing each day, I’m the one who’s perplexed each night. “What’s my true identity”—This question never leaves my mind.

But What’s my true identity? Is it when I’m happy or when I’m sad, is it when I’m angry or when I’m mad, is it when I’m in love with my family or agitated by them, running for some solo time just to be calm. Is it when I’m with my husband making love to him, or with my children, is it when I’m spending time with my mother, fighting with my siblings, or chatting with my colleagues? Is it what I show or what I hide? Is it a Book no one cares to read but all love to display?

Who am I? Is it my identity or my nature or just a name of a relationship I am tied in?

Is my Identity connected with my body or a bare truth of my soul?

 

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You’re right Women have all the Choice

pexels-photo-210585You were right when you said Women has all the liberty today. She is given every opportunity as good as a man, given as importance as much as a man would get for the similar task. You were right when you said that Women can now decide for herself, her life. She is given Choices now.

I was looking at the options in her choices. There were a lot of options, choices given to her. “I agree; You’re right; My Husband shall take my decision; My Family knows my Answer; I can’t answer; I am not able to answer;” were some of the commonest options for every choice in her life.

Career, Clothes, Spouse, Kids; She’s asked not to worry when the matter is about taking decisions. She can do all the chores capably but at the matters of mind she’s still weak as per the norms. Somehow, even today, it’s the man who thinks he’s the capable gender.

When would the day come when each woman can decide without weighing her responsibilities at one hand, consequences of her decisions at the other. When she is not eyed when she makes a quirky choice for herself. When it’s very natural and common that she takes her own decision and not judged upon the details. Men, I think are going to play a vital role in this. It’s just a matter of a changed perspective. What if we do not see men as perpetrators but barristers of today’s women?

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My life is just like my diary…

GoSolo (2)My life is just like my diary. Few pages are filled completely, the others blank. All the pages have their own rhymes to recite, own tempo, own highs and lows.
Some pages have a horror story written on them, I regret to have those because I was both, the writer and the protagonist.
While some pages have a story- What if Story? These are the pages I couldn’t fill up well but I wish I could.

Then some pages are the doodles- the ones I made in leisure, whose meanings I don’t know or the relevance of those to the person I was that moment of my life.

“My life is just like my diary”. Some pages filled, some blank but it’s a beautiful diary and it’s my diary.

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Isn’t Love a Universe in its own?

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Do the galaxies, black holes really exist in space or are these imaginations of a hopeless lover? Maybe the universe is just a thought, the darkness and the shine a lie but a beautiful idea inspired from our living, our world is a universe in itself.

Everyone is like a planet; We all have our Moons but just one Sun. Our life, just like the planets, revolves around that one person who is our Sun, our reason of being. The Sun makes everything worth it.

The gravity of a Black hole is no way near the attraction of two lovers. Closing your eyes while them in your arm takes you to the darkest yet ‘Brightest’ galaxy. The galaxy that promises to keep one safe, far from any insecurity or vulnerability. The feeling of loving and being loved is so fulfilling, satisfying and calming.

The kind of attraction that can be seen in many juxtaposing forms. Sometimes, in the form of teenager’s first love- beautiful, rebellious, immature. The type that keeps them busy with each other all the time undistracted and unaffected by the world. Or Sometimes, an Adult’s Love- the Labyrinth love, that is fussy, clandestine, complicated yet a relaxing spa to the partners indeed. The love that enlivens the chaos-struck adults worried and burdened by their everyday lives.

Isn’t Love a Universe in its own?

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In this realm, you are my Immortal Reality

pexels-photo-196666While I was too busy idolizing someone else’s relationship, marking Couple Goals; You were too occupied making ours the perfect one. You were not marking the goals, but creating couple goals for others.

The Couple I idolized broke up a long ago, & we are, wherever we are, because of you. To say, I am lucky to have you is an understatement. I’m content that in this realm of ours, our small little utopia, you are my immortal reality.

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My Inspiration to write was….

people-woman-hand-desk-6360My inspiration to write was that women in the Metro Coach, who was pondering too much. And, that guy who smiled at me in the hallway. Also, the boyfriend who kissed not just my lips but my soul. The girl who wanted to find her goals. The girl who was already a wanderer searching through her bits and pieces trying to find her hint of success. The old lady determined to create a company. Also, the Men, the proud misogynists, who pushed me to write for my gender. Especially, The Men who made me an un-Feministic Girl i.e. not just in favour of my gender but strongly against the biased women-haters. The Stereotypes that expected women to keep her eyes at the ground in front of her husband. The stranger who saw through my eyes. The stranger who asked my reason of existence in my commute to work one day.

My inspiration was in the love that defined happiness for me and in the love that wreck me. It was in the solitude when I was alone, locked up with books. It was in that book which inspired me to stand up for right and never settle. It was in the disappointments and the satisfactions. It was in the 10 kilometres trek to that beautiful hill that made me want to believe in god. It was in the clarity of thoughts and in the conundrum alike. It was in my want to love and be loved alike. It was in the birthday gift that I never got. It was in the friend that left me for no reason without caring to tell me. It was in the stubborn lover who could not accept that fact that I was leaving. It was in the crowd which made me wonder we all have a vivacious life.

My list of Inspiration does not end here. It has more subtleties than I can possibly talk of. And these inspirations have forced me to write something so meaningful that has an impact on someone else’s life. Something that fires their courage again to hit the wrong in its face, to take their life’s steering-wheel in their own hands. I want to write something powerful that urges someone to speak for them.