A Birthday Wish from my Inner Self to Me

Its been two decades since I have been with you, but it is the first time I thought of wishing you a Happy Birthday, just like your friends do, making you feel proud.
May be it was not a wonderful ride together, but it was surely a crazy and adventurous one; cuddling, but mostly making mischiefs to your life. You are such an unlucky person that Benazir Bhutto (Pakistani Prime Minister), John Leonard (the astronaut), Hafizullah Amin (President of Afghanistan), Zosimus (Pope), Lester Pearson (President of Canada) and Stephen Austin (Founder of Texas) died on the date on which you were born.

I can still remember the childhood days we spent together, staring at every unknown thing, unknown person, far from the normal games and of toddlers; in sheer curiosity and adventure. When you were not afraid of losing anything, no regrets, no bigotry, no hypocrisy, but still tears dripping all over your ugly face. We could discover things together, break them, tear them and someone was always there to fix it.

Since you have grown older, you have developed around you, a “Public impression” which has actually made you bore and rusty.
You have became a big liar; not only to the people around you, but the most, to Me. You know that’s awful. There are truths which you don’t even want me to realize and accept. You are such a coward and shy piece of ****. Remember when uncle used to pretend there was a toffee inside his fist; but when we cried for it, there was nothing inside, he revealed. You, my love, have learnt the lesson very well. The art of decieving, you tell me all men do it.

Your playlists have changed time by time- from classic Indian to rock to pop; from guitar to piano to cello and from Lady Gaga to Ashlee to those ****ing Egyptian musicians. Your ideologies have changed from Naturist to Religious to Semi-Conservative to Pragmatist. You have learnt to speak, then to understand, then to argue. You’ve learnt sticking to cell phone for long hours, trying to make the best out of life. I’ve always been there looking at you, always smiling on all your attempts to break relation with me and become someone who is respected, loved, honored and prestiged in the society; but let me tell you boy, you are too bad at it.

But still You have made hundreds of friends throughout these years, but how many are those who can really understand you? Explore you? Care for you, behind those hollow masks? A few, very few, who could actually get into us, know our relation. And you are still confused whether to distribute all your time over those few or keep a big loose social circle. Don’t you know most of them have only came to wish you birthday because they saw the notification on Facebook, otherwise they don’t pay a shit to what you do. Because they think somewhere in life you would benefit them. Or that you are some badass thing that really matters. But who knows you are the ugly little kid who didn’t know how to wipe a nose. HAHAHA. Okay sorry I’d stay shush, because its ruining your public image, no? Remember you are only all dancing, all singing crap of the world.

A confession. I’ve been tired of your fake and humbug pictures. You actually are a charlatan. Always trying to be someone you actually are not. Always trying to achieve the one Beauty Myth, the one Personality Myth, the one Maturity Myth. Oh yeah, you keep telling me that this is how things go on in your world, this is what people like, eh? But have you ever thought of how I want you to be? What I like and dislike? Let me tell you, you look most beautiful when you are original, your dirtiness is the real beauty.

That’s how your life have evolved, farer from me and nearer to other people.
A score, and I wish many like these, the life you have always loved is going to vanish soon; the clocks are ticking ghastly, so make something good out of it. Something you can be really proud of, something of which humanity can be proud of, something of which I can be proud of. 

Anyways, Happy Birthday dude, thanks for bearing with me somehow.

Regards,
Your Inner Self.

Tart Kinnows

 

Ripe fruit are sweet; they are the gift of the season. But unripe tart Kinnows have a taste unparalleled. Their fresh orange skin soothes the senses, and excites you to do something new; something out of the box. In my small green garden, these Kinnows serve as the morning friends. Today, while eating a slice of Kinnow, I luckily had a pen in my hand.

And when the first rays of rising sun strike the skin, I feel lost in the scenario. The birds chirp; and sitting on the cozy grass helps to blur the real picture of life for a moment.

Yes, sometimes in life, when the burden is unbearable, we want to dispossess our body; we want to run away from our present life; run hard, so hard that we may find a corner to this world. We are fit into a system on a specific place, is there a way out? Or we will always keep working like machines? Why does the hammer always have to strike at the same point? Why can’t we find space for something new, something crazy in our routines? Do all these intrinsic thoughts have some meaning? Do all these voices need a speak-out or should they be buried deep inside our heart?

There’s always a kid, a tart Kinnow inside you. He cries a lot, he wants someone to listen to him. His sobs blend up altogether to make a chorus; we ignore it most of the times. We don’t sing this chorus to anyone; because it looks odd. The world wants you to always look mature and tight-knot; because everyone likes sweet oranges.

Most of us think that if we tried to go against the winds, we would be blown away; this fear is the biggest disease. It keeps us away from the real joys of life. This fear is the one which forbids us from dancing in the rain; and this fear had lead us to the biggest phobia of the millennium:

“What would people think?”

I really miss my childhood, when I didn’t care of any such crap. I jumped and laughed whenever I wanted to. I shouted as much as I could. When I didn’t like someone, I could yell out and when I liked someone, I could hug him. I had not to remember so many passwords; I had not to worry if people liked my photos or not; I had not to think about my appearance, my cosmetics. It was all my world, a beautiful world. 

Throughout the years, I built many walls around me; a wall of decency; a wall of maturity, and a wall of social norms. And this is the story of all of us, we say whatever the society wants us to say, and we swallow whatever they don’t like. But if this was the case, what was the idea of wisdom? If he had to go through the same road every time, for whom are the other thousand ways?

As a matter of fact, diversity is what describes us all. The world cherishes the memories of those who went out of the way and built a new castle out of sand. But we are obsessed with the idea of going with the flow. The only thing we need to understand is that we are not here to survive, but live.

Live your life the way you want to, a new way; sing your chorus; dance freely.

By the time I eat the last slice, I wish these Kinnows could remain tart forever.