I hurt myself today,
To see if I still feel.
I focus on the pain,
The only thing that’s real….
…..And you could have it all,
My empire of dirt,
I will let you down,
I will make you hurt.
I am not blind. And that is my curse. After so many posts where I unscrupulously shouted out my gladly irreverent opinions, if those first lines make you think I am writing this to give an intellectual outlet to pains I have suffered and wounds I am licking, you could not be more wrong and more right. I am not whining. I am telling you what I see with my eye. I am telling you what you cannot see. I am painting a rebus for you. If you don’t know what kind of animal that is, don’t bother. That red button on the top right…
To be born blind is to be the luckiest, because you will live your whole life in full knowledge of the fact that a light awaits at the end of the tunnel, but as long as you are in the tunnel, you will be blissfully oblivious of it. To become blind is sad, because in making you blind, the world took from you all that you really owned – sight. To choose to be blind is truly tragic, because you cannot possibly be more stupid. But to have sight is verily a curse. And that is a funny thing about the world - the privileged ones are the cursed ones. It is as if god wanted to justify the privilege to those who do not have it. It is like telling a poor man, “Sure you are poor, but look at that rich guy and see how he suffers because he is rich and has to guard and sustain his richness” – a convoluted justice and a twisted joke that laughs in your face.
Let me describe a scene to you. A man who could see once went to a city of blind people and as he entered the city, he met an old blind man. In course of conversation, the man did not mention that he could see. The old man invited the man for lunch and as they ate lunch, the old man stole food from his plate. And the person who felt the worst in the whole room was the man who could see. Not because his food got stolen but because the blind man thought he got away with it. Because what just happened was so grotesque in poetry and so painfully anti-ironic, anyone with the shadow of a heart would have felt queasy. And our man is, after all, one who has a heart and an eye. When thick black ignorance rams into white hot knowledge, the stink that rises is beyond words. If, even for a moment, you thought what I am talking about is inconsequential or extra-terrestrial, that is only a confirmation of the fact that you, more than anything else, need an eye. One needs to have an eye to smell that kind of stink and grimace.
There are two kinds of people on the planet and they are wall-builders and wall-breakers. And there is only one kind of wall and that is a glass wall. For the wall-builders are blind and they think the walls they build around themselves are rock solid and that they will keep out everything including eyes, but little do they know that the only reason most others cannot see inside their walls is not that their walls are made of steel or mortar, but because they cannot fucking see! In a city of blind men who would need to build a wall? Only a blind fool.
The breakers can simply see and that is why they don’t shatter most walls. And that is another unwritten law among the breakers – “A wall that can be seen through does not need to be broken. Only one that binds needs to be.“ So the builders build away and the breakers sit and watch in amusement. And that is the way of the world.
But our tale does not end there. To just pronounce such dry and weird statements and stop right there and let you think whatever you want is exactly what I would have loved to do any other time but right now, I am not finished.
Those with the gifts are the ones who are cursed. Those who do not have the gift are so many that the greatest mistake a gifted one can do is to love them. And that is the first mistake a gifted one does – love. And once your heart feels for those who walk in their sleep, you want to tell them you are only as good as them. Sure, the sun can nurture and nourish a little sapling to help it grow, but it cannot come close to the sapling as itself, because that will burn the hapless creature’s very core. The sun can only be itself when it is miles away, a warm reassurance of a greater light and power. That is the pain that an eye must carry in itself. A true god’s mortal life is one that goes completely unnoticed - one that is born in the dark, lives in it and dissolves into it but out of the dark explodes into light almost in futile for none sees it.
That is the curse I was born into and the one that shall be my cradle when I lay down to sleep. But, as I said, there is no use describing color to a blind man. I know the next time you see me, you will still see a mortal soul inside a mortal coil, a little mind that thinks it is god. I know the most I may have done by telling you about all this is make you look at me like I am frikkin ET. And completely miss the point. I know the next time I decide to veil the light so it doesn’t hurt you, you will think I’m grey. I know.
So just forget whatever I just told you. It was just a story. Just a rebus. Let it be.
To see if I still feel.
I focus on the pain,
The only thing that’s real….
…..And you could have it all,
My empire of dirt,
I will let you down,
I will make you hurt.
I am not blind. And that is my curse. After so many posts where I unscrupulously shouted out my gladly irreverent opinions, if those first lines make you think I am writing this to give an intellectual outlet to pains I have suffered and wounds I am licking, you could not be more wrong and more right. I am not whining. I am telling you what I see with my eye. I am telling you what you cannot see. I am painting a rebus for you. If you don’t know what kind of animal that is, don’t bother. That red button on the top right…
To be born blind is to be the luckiest, because you will live your whole life in full knowledge of the fact that a light awaits at the end of the tunnel, but as long as you are in the tunnel, you will be blissfully oblivious of it. To become blind is sad, because in making you blind, the world took from you all that you really owned – sight. To choose to be blind is truly tragic, because you cannot possibly be more stupid. But to have sight is verily a curse. And that is a funny thing about the world - the privileged ones are the cursed ones. It is as if god wanted to justify the privilege to those who do not have it. It is like telling a poor man, “Sure you are poor, but look at that rich guy and see how he suffers because he is rich and has to guard and sustain his richness” – a convoluted justice and a twisted joke that laughs in your face.
Let me describe a scene to you. A man who could see once went to a city of blind people and as he entered the city, he met an old blind man. In course of conversation, the man did not mention that he could see. The old man invited the man for lunch and as they ate lunch, the old man stole food from his plate. And the person who felt the worst in the whole room was the man who could see. Not because his food got stolen but because the blind man thought he got away with it. Because what just happened was so grotesque in poetry and so painfully anti-ironic, anyone with the shadow of a heart would have felt queasy. And our man is, after all, one who has a heart and an eye. When thick black ignorance rams into white hot knowledge, the stink that rises is beyond words. If, even for a moment, you thought what I am talking about is inconsequential or extra-terrestrial, that is only a confirmation of the fact that you, more than anything else, need an eye. One needs to have an eye to smell that kind of stink and grimace.
There are two kinds of people on the planet and they are wall-builders and wall-breakers. And there is only one kind of wall and that is a glass wall. For the wall-builders are blind and they think the walls they build around themselves are rock solid and that they will keep out everything including eyes, but little do they know that the only reason most others cannot see inside their walls is not that their walls are made of steel or mortar, but because they cannot fucking see! In a city of blind men who would need to build a wall? Only a blind fool.
The breakers can simply see and that is why they don’t shatter most walls. And that is another unwritten law among the breakers – “A wall that can be seen through does not need to be broken. Only one that binds needs to be.“ So the builders build away and the breakers sit and watch in amusement. And that is the way of the world.
But our tale does not end there. To just pronounce such dry and weird statements and stop right there and let you think whatever you want is exactly what I would have loved to do any other time but right now, I am not finished.
Those with the gifts are the ones who are cursed. Those who do not have the gift are so many that the greatest mistake a gifted one can do is to love them. And that is the first mistake a gifted one does – love. And once your heart feels for those who walk in their sleep, you want to tell them you are only as good as them. Sure, the sun can nurture and nourish a little sapling to help it grow, but it cannot come close to the sapling as itself, because that will burn the hapless creature’s very core. The sun can only be itself when it is miles away, a warm reassurance of a greater light and power. That is the pain that an eye must carry in itself. A true god’s mortal life is one that goes completely unnoticed - one that is born in the dark, lives in it and dissolves into it but out of the dark explodes into light almost in futile for none sees it.
That is the curse I was born into and the one that shall be my cradle when I lay down to sleep. But, as I said, there is no use describing color to a blind man. I know the next time you see me, you will still see a mortal soul inside a mortal coil, a little mind that thinks it is god. I know the most I may have done by telling you about all this is make you look at me like I am frikkin ET. And completely miss the point. I know the next time I decide to veil the light so it doesn’t hurt you, you will think I’m grey. I know.
So just forget whatever I just told you. It was just a story. Just a rebus. Let it be.
1 comment:
Hey this was purely by chance! uhhh to have a glimpse at ur posts i mean..i was just trying to get some anti feminist theories..! Like im tired of feminism and feminists and so im unwelcomed and unpopular wherever i go..Love your language except for the parts where u swear!(btw u r entitled to use ur lang the way u want!)Keep bloggin! good luck! :-)
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