Tag: people

History is Mere Gossip

Oh yes!

I revere History as a subject. That’s also why I hate that it’s become so subjective. No one knows what the truth is anymore, we’re all so engrossed in stories that interest us so much that we often forget that​ the words “story” and “history” don’t even belong in the same sentence.

​It hurt so bad when I came across in my text book that Queen Elizabeth the second took the throne in 1963 when the very next page claimed that it was in 1953. Though that is more of a valuation of our education system than History, it still put a thorn on my head.

tiara

That’s when it all came crashing down. We don’t care what happened all those years ago, we only care for what’s more sensational. The more interesting story goes into school books — to become history. The more interesting a story, the more it’s spoken about. And we all know the more we talk of something — especially in schools — the more the chances are of it becoming a fact.

It’s quite sad that people are so used to telling and retelling facts as stories. Besides, how much of a difference would it make if the Queen wore a tiara instead of a crown; ​the tiara is the fancier word isn’t it?

What starts with a tiara grows on to elephant rides becoming horse rides, corn becoming cotton, and eventually ​Pakistan becoming India. It’s just a matter of time.

Is it the human craving for adrenaline that makes us morph the truth — or what’s commonly accepted as the truth — into something a bit more… racy?

What’s wrong with calling an execution an execution? Must we make it a chase and kill?

It’s all subjective; we’re are so used to talking about heroics and racing cars that we like to incorporate them in our narratives. The sad part of it all: we do it instinctively, we do it without care, we are so offhanded that in a way, we kill the essence of our History.

Sometimes, we just have to accept our forefathers for what they were — cowards. Sometimes we have to live with knowing they lived bad lives, and that they had priorities we deem unworthy. Because only when we accept history for what it is, can we learn and not duplicate the very lifestyles we mask with gossip.

What is The Chaos Within?

I often wonder what this blog is about. It’s been three years, and I still can’t seem to figure out which category my blog falls into.

chaos

Sometimes it’s frustrating.

“What do you write about?”

“Ah — just, stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“You know — stuff.”

That’s my problem. I don’t have one definitive topic. I just write. Stuff.I’ve been thinking about it, and about what I can do about it.

And I’ve found an answer. This is not a parenting blog, this isn’t a DIY blog, not a lifestyle blog, certainly not a fashion blog — it’s a coping blog.

The more I think about it, the more it feels right. Mine is a coping blog. It tells you everything you need to know about someone who’s coping up with life. There are stories, poems and musings, but there’s also photos, quotes and books I enjoy.

I don’t write on one topic, I write on my life. And my life is a bit of everything, it’s a bit of everything mashed up. It’s the chaos within me.

Ah! Self-realization!

It Doesn’t Matter

Because in the end, nothing matters.

Feels awkward, to start the day with a thought like that. But it’s a bitter fact. Nothing matters. In the end. Not the people we choose to hold hands in church with, not the kind of soup we pick at the supermarket, or the lifestyle that we adopt.

But, sad enough, it all matters. Now.

And like it or not, we live in the now. We think ahead — humans are weird that way — and save for the future. Save money, save the journeys we’d like to make, save everything. We save ourselves now, hoping to take up life later  on— in future.

But in the end, nothing matters. In future, once I’m dead and gone, it doesn’t matter that I had once smoked pot in school. But oh, it matters so much when I’m in school.

But, which matters to us more; the future, or this moment?

Sometimes, even thinking about it is meaningless. Because it won’t matter to me at the end of this post. But mid-way, it matters a lot. Not only because it’s giving me something to ramble about, but also because my decision now affects the course of my life.

This moment matters to me. The small choices matter. Like choosing to read alone, instead of throwing myself into a crowd of college kids drunk on their parents’ money. I know it won’t matter later. That’s why it matters now. Because it’s trivial. And short-lived. Because I’ll never get to make these choices again. I hold on to the things that matter to me now, because when I get to a point when nothing would matter anymore, I would remember these little choices.

Because, after all, even the death bed is just a moment. And then, it would be the now.