You are always a spectator. Even in your personal life.
In a crowd. Among a mob. In traffic. At a jalsa. In an accident. Always a spectator.
At a movie. Watching news. Waiting to be served. Even when served. At parking lot.
In events. At functions. At sessions. In weddings. Even in your own wedding. Or weddings.
At hospitals. Watching doctors and nurses moving around. This medicine and that. A spectator.
At home. Outside home. For home. Private matters. Personal stuff. A spectator. Always.
Sometimes, you even die as a spectator. While watching a movie. Seeing a leader. In traffic. At home.
Sometimes, while being a spectator, you have a heart break. Sometimes, it leads to a heart attack. Sometimes, to the hospital. To the grave. You are nothing more than a collateral damage.
And even after that, you remain a spectator. Watching the legacy of the mess you leave behind. From up in the air. Seeing the true souls behind people you served all your life.
Spectacular douchebags!
You are always a spectator. From public to private life. From life to death. From your bed to your bath. A spectator.
You are invited. You are not invited. You are incited. You are not even counted. Nothing changes the fact that you are a mere spectator in every possible scenario.
You have nothing of your own. Even your anger is imported. Your ego is purchased. And your whole self is for sale. Depending on the right price.
In the end, you have nothing. Because you have nothing. What you got now was part of some other spectator. Now, you have that and you are the spectator for the time being but ultimately, you have nothing.
Even your grave becomes a spot for other spectators who awe in loathing while being thankful that they ain’t dead. You are. And they won’t be dead. They all think exactly the same way.
That’s all. Spectator!
