Why Our Gods Fall

It seems to me that in the present society, we tend to put our morals/virtues above our rationale. We also tend to make Gods out of human beings and try to force our virtues onto them. We put them on pedestals and when they fall, as human beings inevitably do, we ostracize them. Our sense of right and wrong allows no mistakes. We have also elevated words to such colossal standards that as soon as someone in power uses words our ever-willing minds agree to, we hail them as Gods and one by one, we watch our Gods fall. The problem with placing so much importance on words is that it breeds a lot of hypocritical behaviors. Someone who uses all the politically or morally appeasing words may in fact, behind closed doors doing the very things that would put his own words to shame. And when this is made public, as it will be made especially with a person of considerable recognition, our anger allows no room for forgiveness. Slowly but surely ours is becoming a society of punishment rather than that of rehabilitation and reconciliation. In this front, however, our virtues have failed us.

The view that no man must be allowed to speak his mind or a person may only speak as long as he is politically and morally appeasing everyone, only festers more paranoia in a society already plagued by it. We consider ourselves judges of the highest moral order, forgetting that as soon as the black robe falls, we resort to similar ways as the prisoner whose lives we have shackled. Even our art has come under this vigilance which restricts the imagination to flow through just a singular narrow channel before asphyxiating it and completely killing it off.

I am in no way saying that all crimes must be forgiven and pardoned. If crimes are committed, the appropriate action must be taken. I am not an expert on the justice front.  All I am saying is let us not expect the same sort of language or ideals from everyone and just because someone doesn’t look at the world in a similar perspective as ours, doesn’t mean they need to become apologists. It’s dangerous to create a society of apologists and even more dangerous to ask people to feel guilty for an action they haven’t committed.

I personally think that we are being born into a society that is incapable of objectivity and one of the main reasons why this is happening is the media. The media feeds us an incident making sure to remove all context from it and we chew and swallow this whole, without questions. Our media should be put under strict scrutiny and not allowed to concoct vicious, slandering and flawed stories. But that again is a huge expectation and would invariably lead to a lot of problems. The best thing to do then would be to not feed into the lies that are being sold to us and ruining any semblance of peace we have over it. We need to engage in critical thinking and not allow anything outside of our own minds to hold such influence over us.

This was my two cents. I may be subject to criticism for this and I honestly,  don’t mind. I would love to learn and have a meaningful discussion in a society riddled with angry outbursts and violence.


Nietzsche and Poetry

Today I decided to write some poetry out of the blue. I was reading Thus Spoke Zarathustra by Nietzsche and inspiration struck me.

The best part is, I really enjoyed writing this and this piece just spoke to me. My own poetry spoke to me and that feels really amazing.

I see you,

with your false truths and assumptions,

trampling on your own subjectivity

for something that affirms your existence.

I see you,

stealing ideas and beliefs,

your intellectuality seeping through your skin.

What is it but filth,

of the highest order?

Ye mortal, hear me speak

nothing ever came from you

and nothing goes into you.

Even your grief isn’t your own,

then why do you pretend it is so?


Gute Schauspieler fand ich alle Eitlen: sie spielen und wollen, dass ihnen gern zugeschaut werde, – all ihr Geist ist bei diesem Willen.


Alas, alas she spoke

but her words found no heart,

and none could hear her sounds.

Because nothing makes much noise,

and her words as dull and vacant as her mind.

Alas, alas she spoke

but her words found no mind.


The actor possesses the spirit but little conscience of the spirit.”



On food and mood

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I went out today, alone. Had a delectable plate of mutton chops and some really good raspberry/cranberry drink. It was an isolated place called “Group Therapy” in Secunderabad, India. I had my copy of “To Kill A Mockingbird” with me and a bunch of tangled thoughts that gradually came free and together to appear comprehensive. The people there were so nice. It was a lady, with short red hair. She reminded me of a friend I once knew, a long time ago.

That’s when it hit me. I was so uncomfortable while talking to her. She did everything right, said the right words and smiled the right way but my stomach wouldn’t stop clenching. The introvert in me remains strong. I’ve always been by myself and now it doesn’t help me make any conversation. When I do, I always have a nagging feeling that I am being awkward or ridiculous.

Like food, my will to converse depends on my mood. Lamb chops may be the special for today and tomorrow, I’d find them absolutely distasteful. I’m just beginning to learn that people are not meant to be boring one day and appealing the next. I’ve made a resolution to talk to strangers more and I think I’ll try talking to people with different opinions and mindsets. Anyway, how long can I stay shy and secluded?

On a completely different note, I enjoy eating alone to the point where I might cancel plans with a group of friends to spend time with myself. This is not the introvert in me, shying away but just one enjoying one’s own company.

I want to analyse and give a detailed review of To Kill a Mockingbird and I shall do it once I finish it. I haven’t read that book up until now, can you believe it?!?

On exploring



I believe that it is easy to see but hard to look. Sitting here, in this empty house I have a strong desire to move to some place where I can be free of societal prejudices. To move far away where no soul knows me. Every day I see the same things, the same road, the same people. These things get tiring after a while. I need to explore new dimensions, new worlds that are hidden away from the dreary foot steps of human beings.

It’s always nice to experience something alone. Lakes, trees, rivers, streets, cottages etc must be experienced by the soul, not the mind. To have company while travelling will only ruin the world around you. With a companion, you perceive things with their eyes and the distractions become ominous. To be by yourself, there lies the true magic.

I haven’t travelled much. Just a few states in India. Though they were extremely beautiful, I feel the need to experience more, to feel more than what I have felt and already feel. I personally like thick and wet woods. The smell of the trees after rain, the bees buzzing in the bushes, the road hidden by fallen flowers and leaves… it’s the kind of atmosphere I prefer.

I think my ideal place to live would be England. I have a strong urge to visit the country and breathe its air. Maybe someday..

On everyday blues


I have a friend, let’s call her A. A and I have been friends for over five years now and there has never been anything to hinder our friendship. When she moved away, I admit I did feel a little out of place, the only person who ever empathized with me was gone but we always kept in touch through letters, e-mails etc.

Letters. They have been our solemn means of communication. In A’s own words “we had created a private little world” and it is thanks to these handwritten letters that we never had a chance to say goodbye to each other though we lived miles apart. We were connected by some sort of a weird telepathic wire.

I’m thankful to A for always sticking by me even when I proved the most difficult person to deal with.

Coming to the point, everyday I catch a small cold of sadness.. it’s a pounding in my head that won’t go away. Sometimes this cold lasts for a long time and it’s during these times that I find myself incapacitated. My motivation takes a vacation and I find myself lacking in any enthusiasm. These everyday blues are difficult to let go, easy to hang on to. They parent mysterious thoughts.

I’m trying to let go of these thoughts and replace them with good memories. Memories of A and me, whispering to each other, coming up with silly ideas for stories and separating ourselves from the rest of the world that we find so incomprehensible. Memories of Dad and me, driving on the early morning roads carpeted with dew drops from close knitted tress, bed-time stories and his face, smiling down on me as if I could never do anything wrong.

A has become an integral part of my world. She’s a weapon I use to fight my blues with and I hope I am hers. I’ve always wanted a sibling and I guess I have found one in A.


It started as a simple idea in a foggy head and soon it materialized onto my screen. I struggled with various issues over the past few years but the greatest struggle was my inability to pen down my thoughts coherently any more. I lost my grip and the words faded into oblivion.

But I know for a fact, that in some dusty corner at the back of my head, these words are alive and breathing. The air around them pulsating with vibrant shades of love. I know that if I put enough effort, they’d break free. I can see them fly one day, onto the paper, into different consciousnesses, an amalgamation of beauty and inspiration…

I can hear them cry… for Freedom. And everyday, it’s this cry that motivates me to move forward, to get rid of them from the safe confines of my head and share it with the world.

To words.

To Freedom.

To Me.