therighter

2:46:48 AM EST   “Basic amenities for the downtrodden…” sounds pseudo intellectual and is causative of a politically correct syndrome. To be on the other side of the fence and think about poverty is not so bad after all. It is the disparity over ability that matters more. Being discriminated for who you are rather than what you are plugs you into a bubbling bottle. Humanists may disagree to this saying that only those who have gone through starvation and deprivation of a shelter know what really matters to live when you have none to look upon. The truth of the hour is, whether it is a developed economy or developing economy one lives a fulfilling life purely by choice. If this is so, then happiness exists in every fight, every challenge and every hurdle that was overcome. This is a touch and go situation when all of us cry for attention and are bent upon proving to someone who matters to us most at a given moment. The desperation which increases a craving is in the form of a fra...

All this while the child was looking into a mirror which only reflected its true self inside out. The starry gaze was mainly because the glass was an unknown substance which shone in a peculiar way. The mother refused to believe that the 8 month old could even recognise anything by looking into it. She broke the glass with her fist and metallic bangles to deny herself the narcissistic pleasure of being watched by her only child. When her husband walked into the room all he saw was orange pieces and little sparkles of mercurial life. The baby giggled at its mother’s antic. The mother had a satisfied yet a fearful look on her face. When her man pleaded to know what was going on the only answer he got was the trickle of water from her eyes and the wild gaze from his child. He put his hands around his wife and tried to comfort her. He knew she was boiling underneath. Yet, he stroked her hair and slowly walked her out of the room and made her sit on the sofa in the living room. He went insi...

Amidst a redundancy called life I was choking on a tasty meal called affinity. Trying to disappear from the interwoven disagreements and unable to face the upsetting notions and prejudices about people I walked into a hallow cavern of self sympathy and hurt. Mildly disturbed by a friend’s disappointment and disillusionment a question was popping up every second. What the answer should have been was still a mind boggling quest. All the boys and girls who assembled to bid farewell to a dear one were actually seeing off each other, forever. The crossroads at the foot were really chewing off a good chunk of their hearts, not knowing a thing about choices to make. A melodious hope arose from the flutes of sacrifices where men killed their brothers to save the lives of their friends who would soon destroy them. Aspirations were of a distant past where hope was still a word recognised by the mind. They marched in unity and discipline to mark their respect to a life that was fit for king’s ser...