One wrong person can mess your whole life. True.
But to reach the right person, you must pass through a couple of wrong persons. Else you will never realize happiness without sorrows.
Just like the prerequisite of divorce is: marriage. I know. Deviation. It’s an art and it’s not always out of the context.
Anyway. Back to that person.
So, you may find the right person but s/he may not be in a position to claim the same.
Your right. Yet not vice versa. Zero sum.
Then you see your wrong one matching perfectly with someone else. Syncing. Algorithm.
Just like your worst enemy is someone’s best friend. And your best friend is someone’s foe.
Tell her to go! Deviation! Leave!
Perhaps, it’s after the existential crisis itself that tells you the crux of the whole journey. And the crux is: it was you.
You were the wrong person all along. The entire dot in your universe was you.
You.
Hence, you.
Month: August 2024
They Drive, They Kill, They Fly
Gandhi said, “poverty is the worst form of violence.”
This could have been one of the finest sayings of all times, but we don’t ponder over it because poverty doesn’t concern us. Or at least that poverty which we see in heartbreaking reels and pictures and in faraway lands to shed some crocodile tears. Some tears. A sigh. And swipe to the next content of vulgarity.
That was violence you just didn’t recognize. And violence breeds violence.
With the global debacle of human race, we are reaching new lows here in Pakistan. The new trend is rich killing poor or middle-class commuters here and there. Mostly in elite areas of cities like Karachi, Lahore, and Islamabad; but nonetheless, everywhere.
The rich usually have vehicles that are more expensive than the house value of the poor or the middleclass they just rammed under their vehicle – if they are not living on rent. A 5-marla house in Lahore would be less than Rs.2 crore. Cost of Land Cruiser would be… leave it. 5-marla house would sound too cheap.
Imagine this difference. Imagine this difference ramming over you. Crushing your bones and soul under the tyres which are more expensive than your bike. Or whatever.
Post-incident SOPs are exactly the same. Play with the usual games of mental instability, drugs, etc. Take police into confidence and manage to file an FIR full-of-errors, missing key penal codes. Get a loudmouth lawyer with zero conscientiousness – easiest part. Keep an eye on media but ignore it all the way. Get a bail. And get the killer fly out of the country.
Simple. With a middle finger to people.
Now wait for another similar incident being played on the face of the poor of this country in 3, 2, 1…
It may have been one dead or two, but a whole family dies with one death in the family. The leftover souls and bodies of that home would grieve for months and years to come. They would always be living in if and what-if and why.
Now the final part. The dead is dead. Or the dead are dead. It’s same as singular and plural just like its ‘poor’ both ways and not ‘poors’ because you really don’t matter. Until you resist strongly and consistently so much so to make them notice you. Only after that laws of the jungle shall change.
If not even in that case, then you always have the option to burn the citadel down.
Or you can ignore all this and keep on lifting the dead bodies one after another. Doesn’t matter.