Ever wondered what being truly merry is all about? Being truly merry is something people quest for all their lives,even though, no matter how hard they may try, they never find it. Us mortals have forgotten the art of being blissful. We fret for what we don’t have, and bit by bit life simmers down to gray blobs of allergy. And then, when we stand at the flip side of nirvana; we wonder about the true context of all that has passed…
All right I am not going to burrow into all this cogitative and soapy gaga. But to think of it, our conventional teenage life has deafening streaks of complaints that will certainly seem frolicsome to us when we’ll become grey and wise. It’s a demonstration of our ceaseless turmoil , especially us girls. As much as we try not too, we grumble about something each moment.
During examination time, if we don’t study, we definitely have a big problem. But if we do, then whether others are doing as well or not is a big question. If the others do better, great- we have to face an even greater frustration( True, I’m still in Three I’s hangover). If we’ve got hold of some nice chic or guy (depending on our classification) then there is some problem or the other bubbling amidst the cuddling. If we are single, then all the people in love are profane bird-brained nincompoops. If we have the adequate curves then we complain of the satyric eyes of men (and girls like me). And if we don’t have the required stuff, then we cry out for attention from the opposite lads. When we look good and healthy we starve ourselves to become ultra- anorexic. If we are thin, and have the craved skeleton effect, we yen for some hormonal act of God that will make us fat. (Gee this line made me emotional…well almost) . If we are good at something we feel proud of it, and the sec someone else seems better, we submerse into the abysm called inferiority complex. We gripe, grumble and groan about life’s inconveniences to anyone who’ll listen. We’ll strike up a chat with a stranger by complaining about the weather and end our day by moaning about a horrible day we’ve had. I tell you, us she-beings take pleasure in feeling inferior at times. Dopey us!
A friend says that women are addled bisexual beings. Addled, yes I agree. Bisexual? Then I am in the majority. (We’ll have to be bisexual in this world where men these days wax and pedicure and flash their chest-hairlessness in a way as if their benign heart’s covering is as good as Maximilian armor. I tell you, all men on earth. We women are already perplexed soul. For God’s sake and your own, stop behaving like us. & If you stop talking to me after reading this sentence I completely understand.
Damn. See? Even I am so confused that I swerved from the topic and started chastening the chic-men.
The point is that there’s this sadistic desire to create problems even if we don’t have any..May be without such problems life will be all dull and daffy..
Perhaps that’s all what makes life worth its pain*(a ‘Shameful Sunrise’ product )
..Whatever.. I guess you’ve got the hang of it.
*(& yes, I’ll add this to my book of profound saying, thank you for remembering.)
P.S: This is absolutely not about me. But a general attempt at…errr.. generalization!
