Tag: beliefs

To Talk or Not to Talk

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Too many people have spoken about religion saying why we either should or shouldn’t talk about it. Somehow, we’ve managed to inflate something so petty to the size of our giant heads.

Religion is petty and any talk about it is sheer vanity. Take a look at our society for instance. Half of the global population is struggling for a proper meal fresh air. And our religious leaders sit around tables, debating the valiant sacrifices of Jesus, while unscrewing a bottle of packaged water.

As if Moses splitting the Red sea would help the people in slums who walk two hours a day to fetch a day’s worth of drinking water.

Then come the holy worshippers. They join their hands in prayer, glorifying a lord who wears a tiger’s skin for a skirt. And while they ramble on, vultures nibble the ribs of a hungry child in Somalia.

Oh, not to forget the man under a Bo tree, with his eyes closed waiting for sainthood to descend upon him. And while he was busy preaching love, people threw stones at a young girl who declared herself a boy.

As for the other great leader, nations explode in his name. He doesn’t seem to bother, so why should we? As some people’s lives blow up, we sit around, munching on kale chips, and mope about a sitcom character who lost the love of his life.

And since we don’t have enough religions in the world already, some people take it upon themselves to come up with fictional religions like Nugganism, Meyerism, and Dudeism. That last one, in case you didn’t know, is based on the principals of a movie character named, “The Dude.” That’s brilliant.

It’s so common now that we have a name for it, even: New Religious Movement. And you’re a fool if you had thought NRM stood for Natural Resource Management. You’re so old school.

As John Oliver might say, how is the world still a thing? We should have gone off in a puff of smoke long ago — like the Mayans promised us. It makes no sense for us to hang around in a world that’s heartless and lacking in apathy.

The day we decided to talk about religion and fight over who’s better than whom, we gave up on humanity.

God save us all!

Keep to the Status

Here in India, we love our status. Nothing matters more to a parent than getting their child married into a family that’ll fit their own.

The lower status marries within the lower status. And the higher marries within the higher. And the middle — the backbone of society — marries within the middle. However, as the backbone of our society, the middle class is divided as upper middle and lower middle, again with the same rules. However, on a few rare cases, the middle lands with a high-class family that would take them.

It’s an abomination to even suggest a union between families of major status differences.

It’s the norm. We revere our ‘class’ififcation so much that the happiness between a couple is more a matter of money than a matter of the heart.

Plus, marrying out of status is a moral sin. You wouldn’t be able to show your face at a family gathering without your relatives whispering behind your back. Oh, the embarrassment!

And it’s not just a one-time insult, either. These reunions happen at least once every year. People would cast a mixed couple out of the “community,” and no matter how much they insist they’re happy, no one would trust them.

Tsk tsk. How could they be happy with someonKeep to the Statuse other than their own?

Our narrow elders wouldn’t hear of such nonsense. Plus, they’d have plenty of rational reasons too.

For example, at a mixed-status wedding, the bride/groom from the higher status should bear all expenses, including, food, decorations, makeup, cameramen, DJs, and the cleanup crew. Because, well, their spouse is less wealthy. And then the post-wedding rituals like holy (read pricey) contributions to the relatives and the spouse’s family.

And if the higher status fails their duties, it would disrupt the couple’s happiness. Yes, in India, we measure the success of a marriage based on the money given away.

And that’s why you should marry only within your status level. That way, both parties would share the expenses, like the wedding invitation, the house for the couple, the washing machine, the blender, and even the vessels. The bride’s father would pay for the groom’s car (because he has a long commute to work), and the groom’s mother would help the bride peel onions in the kitchen. Give and take and win for all.

That’s all there is to marriage. It’s a union of two families from the same status so that they can give and take as equals, and profit from it, too.

And all that talk about two hearts binding? That’s just a myth.

Personality Tests Are Crap

Because personalities change.

People change. And not because they want to. Oftentimes, we make choose things in life without an option to choose another option. We do what we need to do—whether we want to or not.

People change. And not because they want to. Oftentimes, we make choose things in life without an option to choose another option. We do what we need to do—whether we want to or not.

How then could a bunch of random questions determine who you are? How would you answer from the heart when you’re not even true to who you are on the inside?

I was born an introvert. Shy, imaginative, creative, and dreaming. And way off reality. If I had remained the same, a personality test would’ve revealed results much different from what it would do now.

Because I’m different now.

I’m not the same person I was five years ago. Or ten, for that matter. Because the things I’ve seen, the people I’ve met, and my experiences with the world have changed me in so many ways. I’m not as naive as I used to be. Or foolish, or unknowing. I don’t watch as much reality television as I used to. I don’t revere film starts , or Google the age of an attractive upcoming actor. I don’t read Archie comics huddled under my bed sheets at night, or gawk at boys with budding moustaches and men with unruly beards. I don’t judge people by their looks, and I no longer trust anyone blindly.

I’d like to think I’ve grown, matured, as a person. From the primary school innocence to the middle school hair flip, to the now-abundant face palm moments, I’ve evolved with the times.

No personality test would cover all of that and still make sense. Sure, it would’ve been accurate the first time. But only then. Sure, it would have told me I’m nice, trustworthy, friendly, kindly, and all other “ly” verbs I now cringe at. I would have been elated then. Disgusted now.

And maybe if I take another personality test now, the results would be less embarrassing. But that too would pass. When I get older, I hope to have changed. I hope to have become wiser and more sensible than I am now. And then, the test I take today would be absolute bollocks.

Perhaps it would be a fun memory.

Stranger Things

On my first trip to Kerala, I stayed awake all night. I stood at the door of the bus, clutching to the frame and watching the dark sky lighten.

It was three years ago, on a school trip. But the memories still linger, as if just yesterday I stood at the footstep, nibbling chocolate chip cookies at 4 am.

We started out at around 10 pm the previous day, and just like any trip with friends, we talked, and sang, and danced well into the night. But as darkness fell, most of my classmates started to doze off. I sat down next to a friend who fell asleep in an instant, making me howl with jealousy. I plugged in my earphones, instead, and sat up straight wondering what to do in a bus full of sleeping classmates with only the driver to talk to.

And then I got bored. The wind blew harder with every mile we passed. The cold October breeze stung through the open windows. Pulling my cap over my ears, I walked over to the entrance of the bus. Unlike the usual full-length, the door was about my height so I could look out without reaching out.

I put my head through the door, and a warning call came from behind. The driver’s companion (who’d take the wheel when the other driver needed a break) yelled at me to stop being a fool. I flashed a sheepish grin and assured him I wouldn’t hang out the door or rest too hard on it. It was a secure door, I knew but you can never be too careful.

And so I stood there, gazing at trees passing us at 45 miles per hour. From swaying green monsters, I saw them transition to black ghosts. As the night moved onto early morning, a blueish hue appeared over the horizon, and lights popped up at every corner I turned to.

My stomach growled. I pulled out a packet of cookies and went back to my lair. A friend on a seat nearby jerked awake and joined me. We stared out at the tents that lined the highway, lights within them illuminating creepy silhouettes with butcher knives. We passed a few more tents and noticed large bodies hanging on the entrance of the tents.

It took us more than one chilling moment to recognize what it was. Kerala is famous for dark meat, and with the rest of the country dabbling in holy cow controversies, it wasn’t so obvious to us that the beef dealers started their day early. Once we understood that, we smiled at ourselves and began pointing out gory silhouettes.

It was the closest we could ever get to being in a thriller a movie. We basked in the sensation, and a while later, the sun peeked from pink clouds, cast them away, and walked out in full glory. More of my classmates began to stir, ready to explore the wonderful land of Kerala.

While they chattered away, I traced my way back to my seat. My adventure had come to an end, and staying up all night had given me a headache.