Tag Archives: humanity

What’s your coffee like?

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We are all broken. Yes, you read it right. We are all broken, in some way or the other. A heartbreak, death, failure, lost friendship, loneliness, disease – the demons are endless and varied. It’s a spectrum, where every person has their individual place reserved. Yet, we fail to acknowledge, accept, deal with such a simple truth. We fail to be a support, a shoulder, a helping hand to others. We choose to not look beyond ourselves. We worry our own worries, magnify our own problems, fail to rejoice life’s little moments of happiness, forget to be kind to others, judge galore and appreciate paltry.

No one, not you, me, the richest, or the strongest, the oldest, or the holiest is perfect – perfection is an illusion. Our scars help us stand out, tell our stories, make us human, be our lessons. There’s nothing wrong with pulling down your walls and opening up to others. It’s not a sign of weakness. It’s a sign of strength, a strength which not many have, a strength which gives you the courage to love back even with a broken heart. It’s okay to be scared, afraid of another scar, fearsome of the negativity others may poison you with, but it’s also okay to trust, to take small steps towards an outstretched helping hand, to acknowledge another’s love, to shed the cloak of invisibility, to remove the mask of a smile.

Life may seem difficult when you’re facing it all alone. But you don’t have to. Help comes to all those who ask for it. You just need to ask. There’s a heart out there which will make your breaks whole. Don’t let go of that hope. Also. Be that hope to others.

Graciously Yours!

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To Be Or Not To Be Human.

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I have fallen into the habit of keeping a Google News tab open on my laptop every day, choosing to read the daily news update as I get to the mails for the day. This morning, however, turned out to be quite depressing!

The top news trending on Google News was about the death of a HUMAN who was left on the roads to bleed to death after being hit by another HUMAN. If that wasn’t enough, a rotten, stinking, lousy mushed tomato of a man actually stole the victim’s phone and made off.

Accident Victim Bleeds To Death On Road In Delhi, Gets His Phone Stolen But No Help

If that wasn’t enough, video grabs showed that the hit-and-run driver did stop his vehicle and alight from it; but only to check the stupid, God-damned vehicle which is totally valueless in comparison to a human life.

And that is not how you want to start your day.

But how I end it is still my choice (well, almost, always. Unless you have some other blighted idiot choosing to trend on the world news). So I choose #Mission500K.

ThinkQuisitive  has collaborated with the Robin Hood Army this Independence Day to feed over 5 million people from India and Pakistan (In your face you country-splitters)!  They require your time and also your money (Let’s be practical, they will require contributions).

For a country hitting global news for leaving men to die alone on the roads, let’s get out on to the roads to feed people living there. And though #RHAKolkata does it every day, for one day let’s be a part of their team and make a difference to our own lives.

I will leave you to choose if you want to end your day better than I started mine. #TQThoughts coming up :

Event Page https://www.facebook.com/events/1257273490950810/

Music Video Link : https://www.facebook.com/robinhoodarmy/videos/1812778005621205

Newspaper article : http://indiatoday.intoday.in/story/vishal-dadlani-farhan-akhtar-uday-benegal-robin-hood-army-india-pakistan/1/735843.html

Graciously Yours!

 

When inspiration met ants.

It was always dark inside their homes. The dim lights reaching the upper reaches let them know if it was time to sleep or not. All the elders worked hard for long during light, tirelessly and happily. He had lots of friends and they all lived, played and ate together. They were soon going to start work too. Today had ended and night had fallen. The elders were trooping in after a day’s work. Some worked further down and others went up to the place from where food and light came. There were others who took care of all of them. They were aplenty!

He was being trained. He had been told he would soon be sent upwards if he was strong enough. He was very excited. After dinner that night, he turned in early. Sleep made him stronger.

Much before it was time to wake up, he heard loud slurping noises and terrified shrieks from around him. Something ominous was happening. His roommates looked as terrified as he felt. He peered out from his corner of their home, hoping to see someone who could help them or tell them what was going on. He saw the villain make way.

It was a silver monster, gliding and silencing everyone in it’s path. It was coming their way. He ran towards the other end of the corner where all the others were already crouching out of fear. The monster was now at their door. Most of it pushed ahead but the rest was trickling towards them slowly. It was incessantly hot in there. It was suffocating too. He couldn’t breathe through the fumes and long before the monster could reach him, he had breathed his last. And so had everyone else. In a matter of a couple of minutes, it was all over. Their home would be put on display soon. With their bodies still buried inside.

This is popularly called anthill art, which is made by pouring molten aluminium into anthills and then letting the molten metal cool down into this ‘amazing’ art form.

Here’s how it happens :

Feel free to enlighten me with what you think about the process.

Graciously Yours!

P.S. : Most YouTube comments on such videos seem to state fire ants as a hated species and also environmentally invasive and this process is nothing short of doing good for human life, both artistically and economically environmentally.

Of Darker Alleys (Part 2)


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She started walking faster. She had to get to the house early to make use of all the time she could get. She wanted to get away from them. She was desperate.

She reached the house. She could see the men standing outside impatiently. Bowing her head, lowering her eyes, she walked past them silently. She felt their eyes piercing her back. An involuntary shudder passed through her as she walked in through the wooden door. It was the last time she was going to do it.

It was a beautiful house. Much better than what she had been brought up in. The elders of the house had built it with much love and money. Latticed windows, carved doors, floral designs adorning the middle of the courtyard; she fell in love with the place when she saw it. She used to imagine how she would one day take care of it. Little had she imagined anyone could be as unhappy here as she had become.

Her mother-in-law was walking towards her. She muttered instructions to her. All she caught was the confirmation that they would be back in some time. Possibly half an hour. She didn’t listen to anything else. Not anymore.

The minute they left the compound to attend the neighborhood wedding, she ran to her room. She didn’t want to attend the wedding. It was a trade. The girl was being sold and she wouldn’t know it for a while. That is how the village was surviving. The current generation had almost no girls. Who would the boys marry? They killed their own daughters and bought daughters of other parents only to sell them off as commodities once their utility was over. Higher the demand, higher the price. She preferred the dried grasslands over such fake lushness. At least back at her place, they treated humans as humans.

She had put together a few of her clothes. She was still in two minds if she should run away with her baby or alone. She knew if they found the baby missing, they would not leave any stone unturned to get to her. But if she alone went missing, they might not even bother. With a heavy heart, she picked up her little cloth bag and crossed the length of the house to leave.

She stopped right at the main door. Her son was wailing. Her only son was wailing! She opened the door. She tried ignoring his cries. She could see her freedom waiting down the road. She could hear a hungry heart and an impatient stomach calling out to her.

The mother in her had decided. She had decided to remain human. She closed the doors on herself again. Clutching her bag to her chest, she ran up to his room. Her baby wanted her. Her freedom would have to wait today.

Graciously Yours!

P.S. : I do not know about other countries but I do know that such practices are rampant in India. How rampant, where, since when ~ I wish I could answer those questions with surety, but I cannot.

Picture Credits : Ishita Shah.

At God’s Door.

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AT GOD’S DOOR.

The Sun scorches my body,
I shield my eyes with my hand,
Flicking away the black ants,
Which crawl over me uninvited.

The tattered cloth barely covers my nakedness,
I writhe and lie in pain,
The Gods I have resigned to,
Lying in front of His sacred precinct.

A shadow falls over me,
There’s a respite for a while,
I open my eyes to see a towering figure,
Back towards me in black,

Maybe my time has come along,
Was that the God of Death I see?
Was I to be finally relieved,
Of the life of pain and suffering?

I hear the clanging of coins,
Was that a Messiah instead giving me money?
I crane my neck to look beside me,
But there’s no sign of the silver metal.

The striking pain in my neck is back,
Where I hurt myself from that wretched, jagged piece of rock,
I put my head on the ground again,
That figure in black still present.

Alas! The Sun is back on me,
That was a mere mortal,
Pursuing God for problems of his own,
While my life continues to take the life out of me.

Almost every day, I see  a poor, old man lying right in front of a religious place (which I refuse to mention because of it’s complete irrelevance) and many people like me pass him by with our own problems raging in our heads. I’m not proud of it. At all.

Graciously Yours!

P.S. : This isn’t a post about religion. Or faith. It is about humanity. Or our lack of it.