I hadn’t realised I was so competitive. Despite it being pointed out to me several times before, I stuck to the thought that I didn’t care. Turns out I do. And it makes sense.
Being competitive makes me who I am. See, it isn’t that others shouldn’t do well- it isn’t jealousy. It is simply that I should do better. And not at everything- that is impossible. I know what I’m good at. For example, I’m not that good at writing. But I am good at editing. And I will aim to be better than anyone I encounter at it. And I will get better. Not fulfilling that desire pushes me into the doldrums of the soul.
Now that I’ve realised, I don’t have to attempt to veil it. It is how it is. It makes me better. It nourishes my growth as an individual. It drives me to do better. And it possibly makes people around me do better. That’s a win-win.
The alarm rang. He turned it off and dozed on. Thinking he’d sleep for another 10 minutes.
An hour later, he opens his eyes, straining to check the time. Eyes wide and now fully awake, he scrambles out of bed and hurriedly gets dressed.
Out the door in 10 minutes or his first day at work won’t be. Breakfast skipped, he jumps into the car and guns it.
First intersection- a red light. Time is running out. It still being fairly early, no other cars are to be seen. Impetuously, he presses on, not noticing the school bus rounding the corner towards the intersection.
Crash. Slam. Grind. Blood pouring out of his head. The very last seconds of his life, ticked away. A world of pain, left behind.
Oh little green
What it took to make you stand up
Hours in toiling,
Getting dirty to the knees
Out in the blazing yellow.
Drink some water, little green.
Get greener, stronger.
Point yourself up
Up towards the sky
Where you shall reach soon.
In years after me
You shall stand, little green.
Stand up for me
Stand up for after me
Stand up for you, little green.
Thinking back to days past
Wishing to rewrite the tale
Hoping to relieve the pain
Trying to grab the reins
But in thinking
One forgets that pain is natural
That sorrow is black to the white
That regret is part of the tale.
Tis a mile away from home
The usual stroll was unusual
For it was pouring in torrents;
Roads turned into rivers
Cars drove like boats
I, drenched from top to bottom,
In gleeful smiles and selfies
The rain energised my soul.
Who knew, a stroll,
A stroll in the downpour
Could be what I needed;
To go soul searching
In the heaviest rains.
It’s a great big world out there. 7 billion people. 510 million square kilometres. 8.7 million species of flora and fauna.
Natural wonders, like the Angel Falls, the Norwegian fjords, the Northern Lights and the Amazon rainforest.
Feats of engineering, like the Burj Khalifa, the Eiffel Tower, the Great Pyramids and the Taj Mahal.
Yet here we are. Living and breathing the dust and pollution in a metro of the South. The daily grind having made us robots with flesh and bone. Where is the adventurer? Why is he buried so deep within?
Unleash him. For he be a wandering spirit. A soul seeker. A life giver. He shall take us to places we ought to lay our eyes on. He shall carry us to utopia and back. He shall change our very cores.
Unleash him. Just for a short span. Unleash him, and be rewarded. With such an elixir, that life will not be about the grind anymore. It will be passion. Goodwill. Strength. Hope. Happiness. Peace.
Let the forests bewitch you. Let the rivers enchant you. Let the vast rolling fields calm you.
It’s a great big world out there. Let it see you as an untamed spirit. As a colourful soul. As a human being. Let it see you be alive.
He opens his eyes
A long day ahead lies
Of strife and tire
For people to admire.
He toils for hours
Through hurdles he powers
With anger and stress
In fear of regress.
He drives many miles
A face devoid of smiles
In thoughts and feelings
Of the month-end dealings.
He waits for his paycheck
A lifestyle in a wreck
Months and years of abuse
For fancy pairs of shoes.
“What do you want in life?”
“Where do you see yourself in 10 years?”
“What do you want to achieve?”
“What is your goal?”
Silly questions encountered far too often.
Of course, one has to prepare oneself for the future, but that doesn’t necessarily warrant having a ‘goal’ or a final point one must reach.
I don’t have a goal; doesn’t mean I’m aimless. I shall continue to do whatever I like doing. I’m in control of my life.
Whatever happened to YOLO and living in the present?
Ever wanted a break from yourself?
Be someone else but still be you, but devoid of the baggage you bear?
The baggage you carry is part of who you are and it made you to be who you are.
So if you’re without your baggage, you can’t be you.
Wear your cuts and bruises with the bravery of a soldier, the grace of an athlete and the beauty of a ballet dancer.
For, without them, the word ‘you’ denotes but mere space. Where your identity used to be.