The question marks of Love...

What is it about Love? What is it ? What is love? Dare I answer that? Dare I tread down that path, where thousands, perhaps millions have lost their lives trying? A simple question, yet no answer... But I'm not going to write about what love is... I know what it is... But I can't tell you, no one can.. So what am I going to write about ? I don't know. Something about love, I guess..

Is everything truly fair in love and war? Okay, to hell with war, leave that to the Bush's of the world. But is everything fair in love? Must I do everything in my power to ensure that my love lasts? Will everything really be ok in the end? Where does it end? Does it end? I am torn between being in love and being a nice person. I thought it meant the same thing. But turns out it's not!

Is it ok to love someone if you're existence means ripping apart their family? Is love worth fighting? Were the Trojan's stupid ? Or was the Trojan War the only war in the world that actually made sense? In India, love is probably as bad as the 4-lettered f-word. Is there just one kind of love between a man and a woman? Is it a measurable quantity? If it is what is the unit of measurement ? Was I better off when I was not in love? Well, I guess the answer to this last question is a firm No. Love has worked wonders on me. It has definitely made be a better man... But will it desert me when I'll need it the most ?

Enough with the questions... Let's move on.

"Lucky"

Consider the following:

1. Fall down a well; Break your arms, and legs and a couple of ribs, and throw in a couple of deep gashes, cuts and bruises. Come out Alive...
2. Hit a wall at 200 kmph in your brand car sports car, your face gets "FUBAR-ed", your limbs are rendered useless, and you develop a speech impediment; Oh and of course, your car is totaled... Yet, somehow, you come out alive...
3. A not-so-major back accident, a slight weight problem, a bad posture, too much of sitting in front of your computer, an ailment that defies your age, and therefore worsens it by going undetected for years... An inter-vertebral disc decides to go out for a stroll and slam into the nerves of near and around your spinal column... You're in bed, helpless for 2 months, you'll never ride a bike again, never play any sports, never run, or jog.. But you come out alive and there's no nerve damage, no motor or sensory loss in your limbs...

A series of unfortunate events ? Lemony Snickets ? Not really. Not all of that happened to me, just the slip disc, but I'm not cribbing about that today... I'm here to discuss about something far more important... Something that's common between the three above mentioned events... In the end, people will say the same thing... "You're so lucky. You came out alive." Whoa wait a minute, lets step back here for a minute and review this, shall we? After all those horrific accidents, and being rendered useless for the rest of your earthly existence, is surviving considered lucky?

Some people are overly optimistic. They've will reach up the ass of the biggest, darkest, most fierce looking cloud and pull out the silver-lining! Or some even walk around with a bottle of spare silver paint... My advice to such people... STAY AWAY FROM ME ! You piss me off, all of you. If one event in my life changes everything, takes away everything that I love and am passionate about then who the f*** are you to say that I'm still lucky to be "alive"! I'd rather be dead! Actually, I'd prefer that you were dead!

Being lucky is the most subjective thing ever, and I don't like being told how lucky I am! You're most welcome to tell me how unlucky I am and what a mess I am in and what a shit-hole my life has become. But if you call me lucky then that's the last time you'll use your tongue! Sure, in the conventional sense I'm lucky than a beggar on the street, or the guy who brings me the newspaper every morning, or many other people... But must you rub it in?

There are things I have and then there are things that I need and/or want... And between the two (possessions and desires) is where luck breeds. In simple mathematical terms, the distance between possessions and desires is indirectly proportional to the coefficient of luck. More the distance, less luckier you are, and vice-versa. However, another factor that has to be considered is faith. Faith is Ray Ban of the stupid. On the inside you're still the same narrow-minded, priestly son-of-a-bitch that you always have been and shall continue to be, and on the outside, your also that same person. The only thing that has changed is your perception of who you have become, and worse, what you think you can accomplish, mainly by helping others.

So I have no problem with another person believing in whatever s/he wants, but, and I've said this before, why must you take it out on me? Due to my lack of faith I perceive my coefficient of luck to be, let's say 'x'. A man of faith would perceive it to be 10x. Once again, you're pissing me off !!!

Arghhh! This is going no where. To be continued... If I'm lucky ;)

Balls, Goals and Gods

So finally, years after its inception, I decided to foray into the blog-sphere... Why? Neither do I know and nor do I care. Perhaps I have exhausted all my "take-it-out-on-me" coupons. Perhaps I want to be heard, perhaps I need someone to listen to me, or maybe I'm hoping that my non-existential god-almighty will reach out from the heavens and shall deliver me the salvation and peace of mind that I have been craving for, for so long....

In my brief, so called existence among you people I have realized that every happens for a reason, however, most of the times we just don't like the reason. All the mistakes that I have made, all the "sins" that I have committed, all the pain that I have brought to others, has come back to me. Some people believe in god because they're afraid of the devil, some because they need someone to thank, and then there are people like me, who believe in his divine existence, for the soul purpose that we can hate him.

I didn't have the balls to admit that everything that is happening to me is because of all the stupid things that I have done. I didn't have the balls to own up my mistakes. A few days back an angel came down from heaven and she showed me that it was all my fault. I was so obsessed with finding others to blame (mostly god) that I had completely ignored the one and only culprit of my situation... Me...

So now that I have no one left to blame but myself, I don't need god anymore? Perhaps... At least that's one thing god and I have in common... We're both useless to one another.