The Mirror Side! (2)

I don’t know what went wrong.

Something must have gone haywire, or what I like to situationally believe and have been repeatedly told ‘we grew up’. Did we?

I’m not very good at growing up perhaps, and alas I’ve made peace with it or so I’m left to basket. What I fail to understand is that since when did growing up become a boring process of knitting a life you don’t seem to like, but choose to live. Live because, well no reason, just live it you piece of flesh, it’ll make dying less of an episode. Darling, you weren’t living anyway.

I have all my life disliked raw tomatoes, mustard oil or other little things, not out of a trivial taste test, but out of a million tries to gulp it in, in every possible way and failing. I just do not like it, in fact I cringe at the slightest of smell. But that’s not the nature of luxury I may have if I was in a scenario of food scarcity, which I’m not, so ya I don’t choose to waste it either, but I won’t force it down my throat. I’ll choose the food without it, simply.

But growing up in India doesn’t teach you that, it teaches you to learn, adjust, develop a taste for anything and everything (protocol for females only, BTW). Sad!

So I developed a taste for mustard oil while I battle with certain taste buds, still. And while that’s the state of my food log, that’s also the story for a larger picture in my life. Doing things out of sheer feeling of getting it over with, not because you want to or like to, but because you have to.

So saying that something changed with the dragon would be unfair, something or a lot of things changed with me too. People who have known me for decades would agree and be flabbergasted, all at once.

I think change, as much as is the law of nature, it also is a choice we make, mostly to survive. The question is are we only looking to survive?

Or maybe also live, once in a while?

(Part-2)(End).

Be gone, Begone!

Preach over the bones of the dead,
Literal or metaphorical,
Weep, howl, or curse,
There won’t be a retaliation anymore,
None at all,
Isn’t that what you’ve yearned for,
For so long,
May what you preach
And never follow,
Rot,
Rot, as my bones do,
Like my soul did,
While I could still tickle walk
&
Retaliate!

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