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Saturday, January 18, 2014

Genesis of an Idea

A snow flake touched her skin
and her body quivered a little.

Formed in the nimbus high above,
amalgamation of earth, water, wind and fire.
And when the time comes nigh,
Clouds smother the sky
The time is ripe. 

Blow your trumpets, Gabriel,
its the birth of a flake.
Bound towards the earth
In a hurry, partly a flurry.

Blown this way and that.
Unaware of time and its part.
By itself it is incomplete and innocuous.
The landing place provides the right contrast and hue.

She stood on open plain,
Desolated grey.
In quotidian ritual.
The snow flake landed on her skin
And her body shivered.
For even in the cloudy sky,
the sun shone brighter than ever.

As apparent as air,
blood came surging to the brain,
And a smile to the face.
She breaks into a canter
with arms wide open,
to fly, fly away.

A bit of hatred.....

If I might not have adequately put it before, I bloody well hate religion. With the news of violence coming in everyday, from almost every nook and cranny of the world, religion is helping humanity plunge into the darkest recesses of doom and dismay.

For some time now, I have been at casual ( and the occasional heated argumentative) loggerheads with people over religion and standing the ground, waving the flag for total eradication of this horrible remainder of civilizations old. And in the heat of the argument, the hatred would spill over for the person. Who can possibly believe in this horlicks called religion, if they had half a brain? Why would one be such a moron, on purpose, day in and day out? Aargh, the idiots!

One such argument was with my own parents, as you have. And at the end, momentarily though, i had a twinge of bad feelings for my mom. Which is preposterous of course and I was only very happy to realise that. Which is when, it caught me. As someone has said, "Don't hate the player, hate the game". Religion has survived by making sure that humans believe it is the only true form of salvation. And humans, trying to find a crutch in their darkest hours, are only happy to oblige. Do this for enough generations, and voila!

And so, everytime, I get into an argument about this heinous anathema called religion, and it starts to get a bit heated, i just remember the loving face of my mom. A religious housewife. Who wants nothing but the best for her family. Inspite of the religion. How can I hate her ever!