MATCH 22

All the world’s a matchbox
And all its people a bundle of sticks
Unequally proportioned their figures
With peculiarly apportioned heads
Each with unique entrances
And equally unique exits

To begin with they are thusly formed
When each newborn, slithers
Out of the same old mould –
The wilderness; the savage stones
(By the book of cut-and-fold)
Crumbled, sutured and apparently, evolved

Assembly line production
(I hear tell it’s called)
Intelligently programmed to introduce
Per product Transgressions
Where every Difference in the delicate mix
Starts subtle, but grows, startlingly

To sow
The basis of conflicts
Villains and heroes – the tragic misfits
Stories and legends – the tragedies
Bards, audiences –
Subtextual nobodies

Co-existing under the same roof
Put asunder by the same goal –
To burn brighter than the bright
Sooner and longer than the rest,
To leave scorch marks in the wake
That remain undead after death

This struggle for a phosphorescent fame
Inflames the longer left unlit,
Fuelled by the silhouette of innominate death
Born of an unfortunate circumstance;
Such as dereliction due to dis(or mis)use
Or an incurable, congenital defect

And so every head butts against every other
To scratch and tip the scales in its favour
But – even & by sporting a red dye – every form
Remains conspicuously uniform
Making no difference to the fortune or fate
Of those unchosen abiding time and faith

Who rejoice at the measliest spark
That might just kickstart them into burning bright,
But after being brightly lit for timeless ticks
These enlightened (or accidentally ignited) minds
Flicker like flailing fish toward their end, then surge,
And cease, with a soundless dirge

Lamenting that while they lived, they lived
The way they were supposed to live
With the only changes being when-from,
How-bright, and importantly, for-how-long
Never stopping by, to wonder why –
Much like the cogs in a wheel – what-for

Thus it is why that history
Tends to seamlessly repeat itself
For every life is wrought with instinctive greed
In a box overcome with collective unease
Stemming from the common fear
That one day they’d quietly disappear –

A microcosm of civil friction,
Embrittled by a puppeteer’s dance,
A macrocosm of fractious civilisations,
Even as bundled together in a united stance –
Insidious match; afraid to combust –
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust

– Akanksha Gupta

 

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PERFECTION: Attempt 2

Perfection is abstract

Abstract concepts are subjective

To every individual

They seem to be distinctive

Yet no pair of eyes

Can claim objective observation

And thus if they see it

It’s their perception of perfection

But since nobody is perfect

And since there is no universal definition

Nobody has the ability to be perfect

By the inherent virtue of perfection

Though on their own they can

Strive for their self-defined ideal

But once they reach and cease

There would be no progressive fuel

This lack of impetus

Would stop further innovation

And a stagnant world would spiral

Into its own rot and degradation

And thus we return to the web

Of subjectivity and motivation

And to the existential crisis

The Shakespearean question;

The possibility to be

Or not to be

That weaves a delicious irony

Of perfection and imperfection

Do you know why we have so many matrimonial services? Because it is difficult to find the perfect life partner. Everyone has a different nature and nurture, and therefore, a very different view of what a ideal being is. Furthermore, their perceptions keep evolving with time.

For instance, in the 17th Century, the society defined a perfect, accomplished woman as one well-versed in a variety of homely arts and social etiquette (Sense the sensibilities of Pride and Prejudice here?). Had the society remained constant in its views of a perfect women, we would still be afflicted with gender roles today. The world would have made no progress.

Take another example. If we had believed that the first phones invented were absolutely flawless, we would have never made smart phones. We would have not invented beyond a certain creative threshold.

That is why it is said that “Forget perfection. There is a crack in everything. That is what lets the light get in.” In other words, we can always find potential for improvisation in every sphere.

However, let us assume for a moment that it is indeed possible to achieve perfection. To begin with, is there any universally agreed upon definition of what that may entail? Your version of perfection may very well be flawed to me. Perfection, therefore, lies in the eyes of the beholder.

The only perfect persona we can achieve is the one that we conceive. For that, we keep on improving and changing for the better. In other words, we strive to be more perfect than before. And herein lies the irony of trying to be perfect but not having the ability to become so.

In short, while nobody is perfect, everyone has the ability to overcome any imperfections in the constant endeavor for self-development where sky is the limit.

– Akanksha Gupta

TO BE OR NOT TO BE

It’s a fleeting moment

When reality ceases to exist

When you can imagine

On this plane; a parallel universe

Or even absolute silence

A moment of peace indeed

Where every idiotic syllable uttered

Doesn’t go down in personal history

Of insanely stupid moments

It’s an ephemeral fulfilment

Of the innermost desires

A time to escape; a place to escape

No obstacle, no predicament, no quagmire

A moment of absolute clarity

Of great insight yet permissible peculiarity

Of simplification of complexities

Of freedom from social niceties

And a moment sans entanglements

No emotional baggage or responsibility

No delusions of grandeur

But an ambience of elegance

A moment of well-deserved

Self-indulgence

When there is no forced pretence or play,

Neither is it a judgement day

Where you can be you and I can be me

And in this warped reality

That would seem to be

 For just a fleeting moment

A means of escape

A world of you, by you, for you;

Solely built

To suit your tastes

After all everybody needs

A self-styled illusory reality

Where you have the right

At any-time in life

To be or not to be

– Akanksha Gupta