rePHILed

Month: August, 2013

Lucid Ambivalence

Lost… In a never ending expanse of sand. The landscape doesn’t change as my far as my vision carries my sight. Heat, the sun beats me down to my knees mercilessly, scorching my dehydrated skin. My throat, hoarse like the coarseness of the material beneath my feet. I succumb onto the bed of sand, allowing the coarse grains to engulf me in a chrysalis.The flinting light rays begged my eyelids to shut, sending me into a deep state of slumber…

I will my eyelids to expose my pupils. My irises dilate and constrict vehemently in the nonchalant change of brightness. My skull cracks under the feverish state of my mind. I am surrounded by a cacophony of of voices from the inhabitants of this forest, the voice of Earth. Shards of glass tear down my throat with each drop of saliva I swallow. I need water. I see a plump bright fruit hanging seductively from the highest echelons of the tree before me. Adrenaline surged through my veins purposefully, inching me towards the ascend of the mighty tree. I lay my palm on the unforgiving surface of the bark…

It burns. The pernicious cold sends me straight into writhing pain. I am crouched on fours. I see my soul sucked out from my lips with every breath I expel. My innards crystallise. I feel the fangs of ice sinking into my every organ. I crumble into complete cessation…

Waves lapse the soles of my feet, licking at my thirst tantalisingly. I’m in the middle of a vast ocean. I plunge into the body of life-sustaining liquid and drown myself as my spirit is lifted. I fall deeper towards the core uncontrollably. The weight crushes me from the outside and my system is inundated with water. A state of void darkness.

I am alive.

I SHOULD BE DOING MY PHYSICS PAPERSSS DAMN IT

 

Advertisements

Tell Me Where to Look, But Not What to See (cont)

I don’t want to follow lines explicitly traced out for me. I don’t want to tread paths already forged. I don’t want to scuffle along with the pack when I can’t see where we’re going. We don’t need to. Tell Me Where to Look, But Not What to See

Living but not conscious. 

Each of us is dissimilar from the other, a motley ensemble. Why are we trying to morph ourselves into symmetrical shapes on the outside when what we are within cannot be changed. Our outlook is a manifestation of who we are within. So then why, why are we urged and compelled to take these very routes, imprinted by countless pairs of foot steps before us. 

In actuality, we have the power and freedom to make our own choices. It’s just that we are not free from the clutches of the consequences. These are the invisible limitations placed upon us, albeit extremely tangible and intimate. It’s ability to confine is unparalleled and it stencils fear onto the very hearts of people. Thus we are free, only to a certain, practical extend. 

 

Tell Me Where to Look, But Not What to See

Show me where to search, but not what to find. Teach me how to hear, but not what to listen for. Bring me to the plains, but do not satiate my hunger. Provide me with water, but do not quench my thirst. Tell me where to look, but not what to see.

 

Clipped

I am genuinely baffled. It seems as if I’m the only one who feels this way. Especially in my class, It’s as if I’m a foreigner in my own environment; one I was inoculated into when I was 5. A mechanized system which fits us onto graphs and curves, tabulated and evaluated mercilessly. I can’t be the only one with such a stand. I feel like a banal humanoid amongst the many cultivated by this rigidity which is self-proclaiming and wears its accolades proudly.  Take it all away, what does this all stand for? Don’t you feel suffocated? Our lives have become compartmentalized. Everything we do is confined in a quadrilateral space. Our every action has to be in line with and governed by a set of rules, laid down by wielders of power who know bullocks about the future. Why do we equip our young with skills when we can’t even predict what future jobs will be like? Where has dynamism and creativity eroded too? Why do we conform to societal perimeters which only dampens our true potential and credibility? Why subject ourselves to be labelled by statistics? Are we not more than numbers and data and patterns?

I am becoming highly irascible by the deadening of our emotions just to produce numerically aesthetic figures. Do grades really hold primacy over anything else? Will numbers and grades really open doors in the future which is oblivious to everyone of us? Wasn’t mass education a thing of the industrialisation age which aimed to generate a more literate population? Why haven’t the visionary leaders implemented any form of change in lieu of the old system? And the most disturbing part of it all is, it seems as though I’m the weird one who thinks way. Everyone around me seems to fit in perfectly normal with their surroundings. Going to school everyday is dreadful. I hate it when my life is dictated by a timetable and I attend classes periodically just because GRADES GRADES GRADES. If you don’t do this, you won’t score this. If you don’t score this you don’t go there. I am not a bloody machine. Specific inputs don’t have predetermined outcomes.

Schools are like factories, we are the raw materials. We go in unprocessed, come out value-added. A cookie-cutter process. Everyone must come out the same. An anomaly is deemed as a deformity and is discarded blindly. We sit for the same exam and get posted into similar institutions. I just feel like my wings are clipped and that there is no room for self-expression in the current syllabi offered by the “diverse” educational faculties. 

Time

Time. Contained within it, the deepest and most elusive mysteries. It slithers away when you try to hold on and grounds itself when you try to push it. It’s like friction; opposing your every motion. Maybe it’s just the vile nature of time, completely inherent. Or maybe it’s our own folly dragging us deeper into the abyss and never-ending space. Blinded by the thoughts in our head, our mind sequestered from body, we limit our sights to the crevices in our faults, disallowing light to extend our vision. Focused only on the contemporary, till the shock of impact radiates through our bodies. Only then might we awake from the delusion. But it seems so right now, it seems so necessary. It is obscuring yet clear. Insidious, but sweet. Or is it all just a fantasy?