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The monotony of being different

All my life I was told I am different. Sometimes it was appreciated, sometimes not so much.  I was told I had energy unparalleled, sometimes appreciated, other times not. Some people tell me how much they admired me, some said I couldn’t be understood.  Ever since I was a child, I was told being different is good.  In school, I was told different people tend to make better lives for themselves. In movies, I was shown that the protagonist is always, well, different.  These notions influenced my perspective towards life, making me crave the feeling of being different. Having said that, I was never treated like I was different, challenging my notion of me being “different”. However, sometime back I realized that I was never treated like I was different because no one wanted me to know how different I am.  Every time something nice happened to me, every time I said something exceptional, people tried to normalize how exceptional these things were. That is when I could understand how I coul
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Privilege and Burden

The crown isn't just a mere ornament to be worn, it's a privilege and a burden.  For you sit with your head high, the crown embellished with precious stones, while the others bow. Privilege.  But, you can not look down, for even a slight tilt of the head, can make you lose the crown. Burden.  For you can wave and smile when thousands gather around to get just one glimpse of you. Privilege.  But you can't laugh your heart out when you find something funny in front of those same people. Burden.  But it's rare to find a person who can do both. The crown has the final say in everything yet the bearer of the crown doesn't have a voice.  But the true monarch can't be just anybody, because the bearer of the crown might be a puppet of these strings, but a monarch is one who controls everything. Smile when they have to, laugh when they want, hold their heads high when they have to but tilt their heads in disagreement when they want to.  Privilege and burden exist for tho

चीखूं।

कभी कभी मन करता है किसी का नाम वादियों में ज़ोर ज़ोर से चीखूं। फिर याद आता है उनके तो नाम पे भी मेरा हक़ नहीं। फिर लगता है कि शहर के शोर में किसी सुनसान कोने में जाके चीखूं। फिर याद आता है मेरी आवाज़ पे भी मेरा हक़ नहीं।

Bruised

Men with bruised egos are like children with bruised knees. Afraid to fall, always whining. But I'm not a man. I may have an ego that is bruised, but I don't get to whine. For, if I whine, the world will look. If they look, they'll notice. They'll notice what it is to be reckless. They'll notice what it is to be unworthy. When a man whines about his ego, it is seen as vulnerability. A sign of how everyone is human. Everyone is flawed. But when I whine, it will be seen as the end of everything I have worked for. My standing does not allow me to be vulnerable. My standing does not allow me to be human. And in this hour filled with dilemma, all I can hear are the words of my people, "In this moment, you can be a victim, or a powerful queen. Whether you choose to be powerful or vulnerable is how you will be remembered in history. Choose wisely ." And that's when I know, my power may allow me to be something close to God for all, but never somethi

Tame

On the day that I get one year older, I can't help but wonder Of all the people I loved, In all the things I trust Is there something that can actually make me happy? Or is it just an illusion, happiness? For I seek it in the smile of a loved one, Or in all the things I love but none For my happiness may not lie in things I am not, For that's so much to ask for, a lot And on this day I'd like to tell me, Find your content within thee For it is human to love, But to expect the same isn't the same as above And accept your attachments, But never expect from your attachments For being the slave of your own desire is what a man would do, And you? You're a woman that's learnt much more, For you're not just any other girl You're the queen that knows better, And all those who find you to blame Are incapable of understanding That you're not theirs to tame.

Construct

The world is a subjective place, governed by forces we believe are quantitative. Forces, we think we can calculate, and predict outcomes for. Forces, we think we can analyze by utilizing our intelligence. But the truth is, the perception of intelligence is so wrong. Intelligence isn't only in calculating. Intelligence isn't only in strategy. Intelligence lies in all this, and also accepting that whatever measure you take, whatever choice you make, it is subject to the subjectivity of the world. Our sorrows can get the best of us, but we fail to realize, that the hurdles we cry over are not real, but a mere construct of what we call the mind. For, if our sorrows could be calculated, hurdles be predicted and forces be subject to ultimate patterns, all of the world would have the same priorities, a single law governing us all. Fortunately for us, some of us know that these forces and laws we rave about are a construct, and that the reality of the world lies in no law, no f

Circumscribe

For those who believe in themselves, it is a known fact that the key to success is acceptance. They like to believe that the world might not see them as they are, but it is their understanding of themselves that drives the world behind them. However, one would argue, what is success if you confine yourself within the very definition of you? How is it extraordinary to be what you are when the world is constantly asking for more? What makes you so distinct? What makes you think that it even matters what you feel about yourself? The world works on what is called the show business. One can never truly be honest and show themselves as they are, for that would mean showing the world your vulnerabilities, and that, in turn, makes you susceptible to defeat. So, the question prevails. Is it the fact that you accept yourself as you are and show the world what you are that drives your success? Or is it the face you put up, a mere illusion of you, that makes the world see half the truth, w