I was asked the other day about how I visualized my ideal world, given recent events that have sparked tension and confusion all across the world. We cannot tell the difference between a first and third world country, save for the financial might and minimal graft incidences of the former, that enabled them to build containment centres much larger than five third world country hospitals combined, in one week. So, I decided to give my thoughts on the ideal I cannot help but imagine, in 1,000 words.
Even though I am human and the inclination to selfishly work towards my welfare is strong, I realize that there is so much more to life than self-glorification and gratification. The least anyone could do to leave a mark on the face of the earth, is to be the reason for at least one smile. The gifts of the heart are much more endearing, rather than material or monetary rewards. No matter how many zeroes there are on that pay check, a simple earnest thank you would earn you more joy than we all ever care to admit.
I do not consider myself much of a philanthropist given I do not take part in such activities as much as other people do. I do not have to even give money or donate my piece of land for humanitarian projects. Charity begins at home. I could bring joy to my help who ensures that I live in a clean environment and eat sumptuous home-cooked meals. A weekend off from work and a healthy bonus to send to her parents back in the village could suffice. ‘It’s the little things that matter,’ it is said.
According to collective human belief, nothing is ever too broken to be fixed. With the advancement in technology and human knowledge, man has come to believe that there is no problem so great beyond solving. A cast, a few pain meds, and a bit of rest will fix broken limbs. For a marriage on the verge of collapse, a couple of therapy sessions and a relatively good attitude will also fix it. A few rounds of hardcore sweltering sex with different partners will put things into perspective in a complicated relationship because maybe your partner wasn’t even that good enough.
The thrill of transgression is a drug that we crave from time to time until the need is too great that we cannot help but medicate. Afterwards, you may begin questioning whether it was worth the trouble. Was it worth losing that one person whom you could die for? If you assess the situation and come to the realization that it was worth it, then you do NOT know Love.
Love is irrational. It is like frequent persistent psychotic phases. The best part of it is that it feels like consciously falling down a cliff and happily doing it because you want to do it even though you might break a few bones and/or even lose your life as a result. Love is that seductive bite of a pink moist lip by the boy of your dreams, rendering your lady parts excited and needful. It is the random thought of that one special person when you stumble upon an old couple in the park nestling on the edge of the pond while you are out on an evening stroll.
Then you smile to yourself and make a mental note to take her out on a picnic next weekend. Love is when your boss at work chastises you for getting late to work for the umpteenth time because she decided to make the morning glory last longer than your usual 7 minutes of heaven. Love is when you start an argument expecting to kiss and makeup but you end up kissing each other goodbye.
Funny enough, I may seem to have it all figured out when it comes to love but even though I detest it, the stereotype still holds. The experts lack the necessary answers to fix their problems. Worse still, I keep advising others and my words work their magic. Experience is the best teacher. Such a common saying.
It could probably be the reason why the best counsellors give the best courses of action to follow through with and end up successful although their lives are a complete clutter. Seems to me like emblematic artistry. Not one of the arts and entertainment kind, but that of thoughts and ground-breaking ideas that will never come to culmination. Maybe not until after their last breaths. The world truly is a bigoted place and so are we.
Twisted. The word that describes the lovers and the loved alike. If you muster the courage to love and be loved even after love fails to love you back in equal measure, you may be perceived to hold twisted ideals. That may not be bad. It is quite the contrary. You have offered peace where chaos was the only option in sight. You have accepted faith where doubt was brimming. You have applied patience where all that was required was rage and ultimatums. You have given gifts instead of the blows and kicks that were well-deserved. Maybe harbouring twisted ideals is not such a foul thing anyway.
Strength. Rising above our aboriginal natures. Then we can claim that we have been illuminated. If only we could see the world from a different pair of eyes even for a day. To feel, breathe and do what others less fortunate than we – emotionally and psychologically – live through daily, everything would be different. We would be different people by principle. This age of information would be far much more advanced and progressive than we so adamantly claim to be. According to me, twisted ideals are the virtues that we ought to work towards. Till then, we remain passers-by in a world we shall leave far much worse than we found when we came forth. I shall become and remain an ardent believer in my twisted ideals. You?
