Why do people enforce their beliefs?

Its been really long since I used my writing hand. I fervently agree to this statement. There has been so many things happening around lately that I got so carried away with the wind. Let me not just fill you up with the old stories of this misfit living. I want to give you a small insight on the abrupt turn my life made a couple of days back.

Its like a longing; to visit a place and relive its wonders once again. A sense of nostalgia invades you all of a sudden and you’re  magically teleported to lovely memories and quirky pictures of funny faces and overnight drives. So, I took my chance and never regreted it. Although I had to bag on my mother for this, she finally relented with a favour ~ That I visit a temple en route to Pondicherry. The very name of the city excited me. I quickly accepted the deadly task, I had no idea about.

All through this short-lived life, I have travelled to multiple cities in the country. I have taken tonga rides on the crowded streets of buddhagaya, I have bathed with the rise of the morning sun at Kasi, I have seen some humongous caves. I have eaten road side Dhaba rotis on the lonesome highways of Maharashtra. I have fought with diarrhea and nausea each alternate journey. You would think I am a bit of a young traveller, but I wouldn’t say so. When I was young, summer vacation meant endless train journeys and small town halts and language barriers with abundant medical supplies. I fell sick each time we toured. I was fragile as to what I eat, so I was conscious when I grew up! We took all this strain to visit temples.A different one each time! A series maybe.

My mom believes in God as much as any Indian mother would. She prays for me, solely for me alone. Maybe it was because of this compulsion, this search for God, that made me realise that God was not there, and it was just a million stars studded with the sky. Don’t get me wrong now! I don’t prefer atheism. I believe every religion preaches to be good, do good and die good. But I am not conviced with idol worship and hymns and prayers and spending crores of money to get to a place just to see a mere statue. People have beliefs. I don’t object. I am also told that I should never enforce my views on someone else. But how is it even right if someone tries to make me believe in something that probably never looked at me when I was asking questions to it.

We are idealised to believe in supremacy. No one likes peer questioners. The society is so crooked regarding these voiceless issues. They don’t like to change their perceptions. They are not rational in their arguments. They name people like me as ‘rebels’ or brats or some other stupid term because these people cannot answer my compelling requisitions.

I am so done with it though. I no longer intend to fight when they repel with my attack and do not mean to fight me back. This is going to be a long story in years to come. There are still rigid rules and cultural impotency(s) that needs to be changed. We are lagging because we unite in weakness and not in strength. I hope the people raise their voice against these social unjust paradigms and becoming more aware of themselves.

 

This is necessary

You can

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Originally posted on valeriu dg barbu blog:

trilingual text: english, italian and romanian

Your heart is a stray snail on asphalt
Your steps are trapped in a web of thoughts
As if a dial of a defect clock hold you hostage
Not dare you to open your eyes, to breathe through both nostrils,
To lay hands on and take your slice of the facts and as to fulfill them
With natural humility
Until the fear of death will announce you that exist a ,,too late,,
That actually means just a start for you …because you can do everything…

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Tu puoi…
Il tuo cuore è una lumaca randagia sull’asfalto
I tuoi passi sono catturati in una ragnatela di pensieri
Come se un quadrante di un orologio difetto ti tiene in ostaggio
Non hai il coraggio di aprire gli occhi, di respirare con entrambe le narici,
imporre le mani e prendere la tua fetta di fatti e partire per…

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Questioning Spirituality

I think anything that describes India would be ‘spiritual’. And when it comes to India, they feature the Taj Mahal on brochures, peacocks and tigers and snake charmers, sword swallowers, heavy traffic jams and poor road conditions. Foreigners come here, seeking their truth. They go to places of great symbolism and try reaching out to some entity there, so that it would help them guide themselves on their ongoing life experiments. But being in India, I’d like to agree to this for at least once. I read that there are nearly 3.3 million gods inhabiting the country. They live in our customs, our beliefs, our principles and in almost everything we do. We are so religious that we often fall victim to our superstitions. We are staunch believers in the unknown. We call them with names like, – Shiva,Vishnu,Brahma and so on. We pray for each daybreak and dusk. We are what our systems speaks. We are equally tough-hearted and unbreakable, yet so full of life and love.

After all these wayfaring years of endless searching and hunting for temples and other religious worship places, I have learnt that, no matter how much we try to connect to the deity, the questions are always answered by us. Prayers are to be felt from within. We pray because we feel like the presiding supreme will listen to our worries and make us feel peaceful and less burdensome.

God’ is something we anchor our lives to. We are taught to believe in something that’s above us. All these religious wars and racial slurs really bother me at times. Every religion professes and preaches goodness. It asks its people to live in peace and harmony. It wants us to accept ourselves and live with values. But do we empathize with this? No. We are taught to interpret it differently. Almost all of us come to this realisation at some point in our lives,  that our judgments are correct and we need to firmly carry on with our views.  We live based on this understanding for the rest of our whole goddamn existence. Plus, these ideas are also moulded by modern stereotypes and by a domineering mythos of the society. I don’t want to defend anything here, but I feel religion shouldn’t be about imposing values or ethics. It’s about cultivating love for oneself and helping the world come together. What we read in books or hear from stories are someone else’s opinion and understandings. We needn’t have to abide by to it! Same applies to religion. This is a sensitive subject and almost angers anyone who comes into the debate of it. I have angered my mom terrible times and she literally lost interest in talking to me about this. See, she tries to convince me the existence of God when she should probably be telling me why I should believe in this?!

What I am trying to tell is, we cannot truly define religion. Each of us have a different view when it comes to our religion. We are sentimentally evoked when we can relate to it. We see it as a platform for reaching a higher enlightenment. In Buddhist principle, the soul keeps moving from one body to another, taking shapes, changing forms, acquiring knowledge, adjusting to different habitats, and it actually grows restless in its search. And only when it comes to the point where it understands the meaning of life, it achieves enlightenment or moksha and is set free. I want to experience this for at least once in my life. The purpose of my journey is still yet to be defined.

All this philosophical revelation must have made you wonder, ‘Why on earth is this silly girl talking about these things when she should be out there partying like crazy”. Well, I don’t party much, I have never been to one either. But what I do is most…… THINK. I question and explore wonders. And Yes, I am going on a spiritual odyssey. I have always been a firm non-believer of things. It would practically be impossible to convince me that something is legit and it is permanently real. Yet, I am bound to explore the deep crevasses of our cultural inheritance and spiritual superiority in a few days. This time, I am not going to complain about late trains, worst hotel rooms, perverse and lecherous locals and spicy/bland food. I am going to take the journey as it comes, and endure these stupid, dumb absurdities and progress with happiness through time.

 I am not an atheist, but I am a person who respects others for their morals and for their conscience. I am fully geared for this trip. I am looking for my answers. I am not sure of the questions though. I am trying to reach out to thin air looking for a hand to grab onto. I am taking that leap of faith into this vast terra incognita out there. Who knows what awaits me. Such dreams are to be fulfilled really. It makes you feel alive and worthy. I need this to be a grand pilgrimage.

 

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Aum

What is the best YA novel of all time? Round one

rakshnna:

Aggghhhh!! :D :’)

Originally posted on PopWatch:

[ew_image url="http://img2.timeinc.net/ew/i/2013/11/01/YA-BRACKET.jpg" credit="" align="left"] Welcome to EW.com’s YA novel bracket game. We’re pitting 64 young adult books against each other in a March-Madness style game to determine which you think is the best of all time. Round one begins below.

Check out the full bracket and vote!

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Summer And Writing

If I can remember precisely I have 2  drafts yet to be published. I’d like to take care of it later. Summer is here, the air is dry and scorched like the very rays could peel away multiple layers of skin. The chennai weather is very promising with the sunset happening almost as late as  6:45 in the evening and the sunrise as early as 5:15 in the morning. Water melons and sugar cane stalls deck the highway roads and the side road branches out with all other coolant booths evenly placed in order, so one does not ruin the other’s business. The city is bustling and hiding away from the heat of the sun. Women clad themselves in cotton shawls and dupattas and wear gloves arm length, and ride their bikes in the shady avenues. 

The ones who toil in this summer heat are the bonded labourers who are left in no other option than to WORK despite the rising temperature. There are the others, people like me, who shun off sunshine from their windows and lock ourselves home so we don’t get weirdly tanned nor blistered during summer. Life in India can be tough. The beaches are always crowded, with lovers and young kids, youth playing ball, old people taking a stroll and college students enjoying the breeze and taking a knickknack bite by the sea. It’s dirty and congested, if you ask me. 

There are not many towering buildings, fewer bridges, some age old British establishments or their ruins, an old museum, a theosophical society and a couple of malls. In summer, schools declare educational freedom. Which is vacation. Unlike the spring or winter break, the summer break is what any student will possibly look forward to. It is those three months of absolute joy when you get to do whatever you want without worrying about school, homework or assignments. Of course, the schools reopen in June and a whole year of rushing and running, sneaking and tearing would follow up. But in Summer, it’s ecstasy. 

Since I finished my highschool this year, I am dedicating this summer to writing. I am quite not sure of what I wanna write but I am certain I am upto something. I am going on an adventure soon, and I am fully pumped up for it.:)  I still have to pack my bags, prepare my list, and do so many other things, its a tiresome job,Lord! 

So as of now, the whole, “Hair gets lighter because it’s summer” works well. 

 

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Gerard Way Writes Letter On Fan/Artist Interaction Year After My Chemical Romance’s Breakup

Originally posted on sweetinfinitescape:

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It has been a year since My Chemical Romance‘s breakup,and yes,it has been hard for everyone,but Gerard Way promises to keep the fan/artist interaction alive,see what he has to say in this 1,079 word letter.

It would have been a fairly simple matter to not write a letter. We can often re-establish ourselves through simple action as opposed to words but that hasn’t been my style this year as I have become more open and connected. Which has been, like all things, both positive and negative. And if you are a casual follower then please, go about your normal business unless you feel there might be something in this letter for you. I am very close to having my own place on the web to put things like this.

1 year.

A year in and I had always thought I would take a look at things once it had…

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Help Me Find Me

Originally posted on Stuphblog:

Months ago when I was still living with my wife and her parents, my mother-in-law asked me if I liked a particular food one night.  For the life of me I can’t remember what it was but I do remember that it’s not a food I’m particularly fond of.  I told her that I would eat it which prompted my wife to exclaim, “That is not my husband.”

Some time later she told me I was a different person than I used to be and that she didn’t know me anymore.  Considering that just a few months prior she had left me because of who I was I thought that was a good thing, but evidently I was wrong.

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What Will the Future Hold for Lupita Nyong’o?

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Originally posted on Flavorwire:

A peek into Lupita Nyong’o’s Instagram feed is a wild look into the jet-setting life of the current It Girl: Paris with Rihanna, posing like Audrey Hepburn circa Roman Holiday with her Best Supporting Actress Oscar on the steps of the Dolby Theatre, hobnobbing with a who’s who of movie stars, and showing off a killer nail game, day by day. Lupita Nyong’o is having a moment, and it’s great. She’s the best fashion muse to come along in quite some time, the rare actress who’s able to make couture work for her. In the case of most actresses, the beautiful dress is wearing them; not so with Lupita. She was heartbreaking and wonderful in 12 Years a Slave . And, most impressively, she’s no ingenue. As Ann Friedman writes at The Cut , “The woman who’s just been declared the freshest young thing in Hollywood is just a few years away…

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The Voice of Depression

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Originally posted on Stuphblog:

Nobody likes you.

There’s a voice in the back of my head. It’s an evil bastard. It’s the voice of my depression. I normally don’t hear this voice, or, if I do, I can ignore it. But when I sink unwillingly into a depressive state, that voice rises. It get’s louder. It tells me things untrue. I believe the lies it spews. I feel the truth in its words, and it plunges me deeper into its abyss.

Nobody cares about you.

I start to see things that likely aren’t there. I haven’t talked to so-and-so in a few days, he/she must be ignoring me. The return hug wasn’t as enthusiastic as mine, I must not be as loved as I thought I was. What did I do wrong? Why can’t things ever be easy? I want to talk about my problems, but I don’t feel like anyone cares about them. Or…

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