Ye Heedless Imbecile!
Timeless, I'm born, blessed to live generations! Where once decades passed in the blink of my eyes, your indifference now makes these days last eons for me. Why do you punish me so?
It was not always so, you know. I was more than an ornament to you once. You seem to have forgotten that when the world left you behind, I stayed, your only companion. It was I who swallowed your silent tears whole, brought you sleep in your insomnia, solace in your malaise, peace in your vexation. But, even in this newfound callousness of yours, I just can't bring myself to be vengeful! I thought it would be easy to let this disregard poison and infuriate my being, and one day perchance go down in flames, freed from being a useless ornament, and to my fathers who came millennia before you. Alas! it isn't!
I see you watch the big black hole in the wall, the ludicrous thing a sorry excuse for a bard who shows derivatives of the epics the masters once preserved in me. Oh, how they turn in their graves when you devour their simple, linear, limited interpretation like a mindless glutton! There's a reason they didn't preach meaning, but raised questions! So that you may find answers in asking those of your own life and experiences! And even if there aren't any answers to be found, there was grace, happiness and salvation in the quest! Notwithstanding the anguish to my own soul, I weep for this treachery to their dream!
I agree, not every member of my brethren is an apple of Eden. Agreed, there are a few out there with droll or worse yet, maleficent thoughts in the dark ink. But they're mere victims of unimaginative and unhappy souls, accursed if you will! There are still many among us who have so much to teach you, and are aching to give you answers that you sometimes seek aloud in solitude - "How do I find peace and content while balancing ambition and desire?" "How do I become a better human being?" "Why is the world the way it is?" "Is there hope for the future?" "What is divine?". But lofty conundrums aside, for quite some days I have witnessed you flounder in wooing the one you claim to love. Believe me, your asinine attempts at romance could have been avoided, and would have been transcendental if only you had drunk the philosophies of greats like Byron, Shakespeare, Ghalib, Waris Shah, Faiz and their sacred brethren!
You were an industrious child once, made precocious not by experiences, but by books. As you grew, so did your voraciousness, and soon you weren't just devouring literature, you were spawning your own! The rusty pen and dried up ink have their own grievances which I won't voice here. It's best you hear from them yourself. But hear me now!
O ye heedless imbecile! Hark back to thy literate cause! Deliver me from dust, cobwebs and decay! Deliver yourself from mediocrity!
It was not always so, you know. I was more than an ornament to you once. You seem to have forgotten that when the world left you behind, I stayed, your only companion. It was I who swallowed your silent tears whole, brought you sleep in your insomnia, solace in your malaise, peace in your vexation. But, even in this newfound callousness of yours, I just can't bring myself to be vengeful! I thought it would be easy to let this disregard poison and infuriate my being, and one day perchance go down in flames, freed from being a useless ornament, and to my fathers who came millennia before you. Alas! it isn't!
I see you watch the big black hole in the wall, the ludicrous thing a sorry excuse for a bard who shows derivatives of the epics the masters once preserved in me. Oh, how they turn in their graves when you devour their simple, linear, limited interpretation like a mindless glutton! There's a reason they didn't preach meaning, but raised questions! So that you may find answers in asking those of your own life and experiences! And even if there aren't any answers to be found, there was grace, happiness and salvation in the quest! Notwithstanding the anguish to my own soul, I weep for this treachery to their dream!
I agree, not every member of my brethren is an apple of Eden. Agreed, there are a few out there with droll or worse yet, maleficent thoughts in the dark ink. But they're mere victims of unimaginative and unhappy souls, accursed if you will! There are still many among us who have so much to teach you, and are aching to give you answers that you sometimes seek aloud in solitude - "How do I find peace and content while balancing ambition and desire?" "How do I become a better human being?" "Why is the world the way it is?" "Is there hope for the future?" "What is divine?". But lofty conundrums aside, for quite some days I have witnessed you flounder in wooing the one you claim to love. Believe me, your asinine attempts at romance could have been avoided, and would have been transcendental if only you had drunk the philosophies of greats like Byron, Shakespeare, Ghalib, Waris Shah, Faiz and their sacred brethren!
You were an industrious child once, made precocious not by experiences, but by books. As you grew, so did your voraciousness, and soon you weren't just devouring literature, you were spawning your own! The rusty pen and dried up ink have their own grievances which I won't voice here. It's best you hear from them yourself. But hear me now!
O ye heedless imbecile! Hark back to thy literate cause! Deliver me from dust, cobwebs and decay! Deliver yourself from mediocrity!
Comments
Post a Comment