“Gosh, I need a break!”
We all know the importance of breaking schedule, of taking breaks. It’s a way of reseting our life, erasing everything – a chance to start afresh.
But we’re reluctant when it comes to breaking routine. Breaks can be productive too. It gives us the much needed time to distract ourselves from whatever we’re so focussed on.
Breaks are for us all. Because you never know what could come out of it. Possibly a genius.
How about we take a ride?
Straight backs and wide open eyes,
chests swell as arms load,
“Light Brigade!” he commands, “Charge!
He wasn’t the first,
definitely not the last,
brave heart. Helpless son.
Small things can affect you in ways you hardly imagine. Like a haircut, for instance.
I’ve never understood all the fuss about hairstyles. For me, hair was always just that — you chop it off and it’ll grow.
So I barely understood the reason for my friends’ reaction when I told them of my plan to chop it off. Because I didn’t feel a thing. Besides, it’s not like I had luscious, beautiful locks or anything. It was just a meagre collection of weak strands that kept losing its quality.
That’s why I wanted to get rid of it. Because every time I saw it, I was overcome with annoyance that I can hardly describe. It was distressing to see my hair fall apart each time I ran my fingers through them.
It took me an unnaturally long time to visit the saloon. The pixie cut it was it to be.
And so it is.
The best part? For the first time in a long time, I like to look at my hair, to caress it, to oil it and to wash it.
I feel happy that it’s so manageable, handy and short. I feel my eyes sparkling at the sight of my hair.
Funny how something as trivial as hair can thrill you. After all, happiness is always just round the corner – if only you know which corner.
I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo. And so do a whole lot of other people. But the problem is, from where I come from, anything you want to do to with your life, or to yourself should first be approved by your parents. And the extended family, and then the neighbours — cats and dogs included.
Only after everyone’s had their say, are you allowed to do what you want. That’s the way it is. From the subject you choose to major in, to the guy you wish to marry — everything has an approval workflow.
Knowing all this, makes me dread the scene at my house once I tell my parents that I plan to get myself inked.
“Why would anyone pay someone to scar their body for life?”
“And— what if it doesn’t come out right?”
Well, what if nothing went wrong and the tattoo turned out great? I can still do stuff.
But my parents don’t remember Friends analogies. When I say tattoo, there’s only one thing in their mind: self-inflicted pain.
Which, weirdly enough, is true.
But that won’t stop me from wanting to get tattooed.
Wonder why that is.
Tattooing is an ever-green trend — but that’s not why I want to do it. It looks cool, and makes you appear tough. Perhaps a little tougher than you’re feeling — but that’s not the reason.
Ink art is beautiful. Even on paper — I prefer on skin though.
I can come up with loads of reasons to not get tattooed. But not one that’s sensible and acceptable.
There is just no reason not to get a tattoo. Just like there’s no reason to get a tattoo.
But wait. There might just be one good reason I want to get a tattoo. The fun of it. Not the process, but what comes after — the reaction of the people around me. The sense of satisfaction you get when someone’s eyes widen with a mix of envy and disbelief.
Ha! Nothing beats that!
But it’s wrong, isn’t it? To get a tattoo — a permanent one at that — just so you can annoy someone? I mean, it’s just momentary satisfaction — and I’m the one who’s going to have to live with the tattoo for the rest of my life. Is it really worth it?
You bet it is. And by the way, I know they do it with needles. ;)
The Chaos Within 