Life is Phoenix

I don't know why I have opened this document and what I am writing. Call it a multitude of things I want to right about, or call it a zero I have. But I just want to write something. There are different kinds of people in this world. Some who stay quiet, keep it all to themselves and move about with nothing but the fire raging within themselves. And there are those like me, who see no merit in keeping it to one's self, especially when it has no form ( which is the specific case with me). They take it out, examine it, turn it around, and view it from a kaleidoscope of emotions to see whether it makes sense. And if it does they see what to finally make of it. Guess both have their merits and demerits, but for my kind of people, what the world sees of us is as big show off kind of cribbers. I must say the former conform to a more courageous and better type, because they, in their silence are able to give form to the fire within and get something out of it. Its like how pressure and heat within the core of the earth's crust maketh a diamond. Release it out and all you have is a volcanic eruption which can do nothing but destroy everything around. Yeah destroy it does, but it does leave a fertile ground, with the lava sowing the seeds for a brighter future. The past however, is wiped out. Or so it seems. Because it keeps lurking right there, ready to spring upon you when you are not guarded.

Anyways, I actually am a big cribber. I do crib a lot about the situation around me. I keep analyzing and analyzing and over analyzing situations till they start to make a contorted sense which to me seems good. They did not say for nothing that I could make a good scriptwriter for one of those nonsense saas-bahu rhapsodies. That I am not one, is thankfully a good thing.

And today I am in a big mood to crib about everything. In fact no, I am in a big mood to crib about my own self. I somehow can't seem to understand what kind of an individual I am. I know it sounds strange from an individual who sometime back wrote something about how he was learning so many things especially after watching that movie by the name of Lakshya. But coming back to the man that I am, I am confused. Confused as to where I am headed. I take a decision and I am not able to reconcile everyone to it. I do things in full knowledge of the consequences and then crib when the consequences happen. Then why did I take the decision. If I am the one who continuously harps on being practical, then why do I follow myself to take a decision that somewhere is bolder, more ambitious and is perhaps not steeped in this thing called practicality? That emanates from a certain corner of the human anatomy which gives rise to the best and at times the worst of what they call emotions. That involves not me alone, but others around me too, other much better individuals in all sense of the word. Aah, practicality, now that's an interesting word. Years ago I remember, I used to keep doing strange things around me. I used to take strong stands, and when asked why I did not do it the practical way, I used to boast that only when you are impractical does change happen. Big words, I must say, but yeah I stated them. And no it was not only a boast, but a genuine belief in that statement. And yet today I harp on just the opposite. So what has changed the circumstances or me? Well, no points for guessing its me. In the crudest of the terms, I could say one tries to act like a chameleon because one wants to be practical. Well maybe I am one too.

And this word "practical" - its a beautiful word for people like the above, perhaps the weakest souls that roam on this earth. They just keep talking about how they want to do, what they want to do, and still find myself absolutely incapable of taking any direct step in a particular direction. So what they do is rely on time, and say that time and tide shall show where it all goes. And they keep harping on this silly thing called hope.

The other day I had an argument with a senior who said she would prefer calculated optimism based on proactive action to mere hope, which she likened to being the tool of a petty gamble. So am I a gambler? A gambler who put his odds on a bet, to see how it would turn, and now with almost all cards out, knows that his hope is not working out, and yet is waiting for someone like a Shakuni to throw in that heavily loaded dice that turns things in his favor. Again, it's like you cannot yourself load the dice, you have to rely on that someone else. And that someone never comes, and you keep hoping and cribbing about it, asking for time, which is always a precious quantity.

Spineless, gutless I must say. I hate em. I hate em like anything. They blabber to the world all the greatest philosophies in the world and when it comes to acting out on their own, they don't. All they do is keep waiting for that one instance. Which anyways doesn't come. Sometimes I like to ask, why do such people exist? Maybe its because the good lord has in his balance sheet a record of good and bad, and so that the good does increase so much as to become boring, they keep some of these souls. Guess finally they too have a purpose. They are actually not purposeless.

But something somewhere tells me, even these people one day turn to the other side. when they realise they do have some spine there, some gut there. maybe when the last feathers of the phoenix burn out the beginning cometh. See, there again i see hope.
Guess life is a phoenix.

Chaos