beauty of the beast

   There are no fangs, no claws. No horns, not a specter to be seen. Its called devil but who knows, its a beast within. It needs not the night, not in the shadows of apparitions does it crawl. Its whisper, soft as a swish of the sea. Its tread graceful and delicate, with the neck stiff and head high, held by the bones of pride and despise for what lies beneath. With the magic and trickery, it corrupts the soul and it exploits the piety. Fidelity it does not know and sincerity was never its host. Its justice is cruelty. Its command, brutality. Its art is greed. Deception, its trade. From the wine prohibited to the songs of rebellion, its the devil to be blamed. Devil and the children of devil, loathed by all, loved by none.

   I have not drunk the water of madness. I do not sing the songs of truth. I do not dance with my eyes open and still I see it. Its not the devil that i see in the mirror of reflection. Its the beast within. No words are worth the praise deserved by its beauty. Its wits when befriend the curiosity, leads me to forbidden fruits. I have come to respect it for its determination and dedication to the task its been given.

    The angels did not understand me but it was this who became my enemy. Its hatred for me has made me love it. It showed me my anger, my ego, my desires, my weaknesses. Its not lazy, it does not slack. Trapped me in its web and left for me no way but to bow and ask for help. The more it wounded my soul, the more became my thirst for pure. I question no more, why it was created, for i see it now. Its a beautiful creature. Perhaps the most, after the creator Himself.

   With the intensity of the nature of its existence, it makes me understand His love for me. No matter how many times I’m tested, I shall eat the forbidden fruit. Because, unless I do that, I shall not know why its forbidden. And if I do not realize why its forbidden, I shall never know the love of one Who warned me for my good. But He knew that I must eat it, and so created the devil. In the mirrors of reflection, I did not just see myself, I saw a beast within, the one whom I shall never kill.


a lesson learnt!

   It was raining. I felt like going out in the rain but then didn’t follow the idea. As I was sitting in my room, looking out of the window and telling myself that I should be studying right now, I saw something move on the floor. When I looked hard, there was nothing.

   A few minutes later, from under my bed appeared a slimy, neck-less, triangular headed, three and half inches, green colored monster. A frog.

  In my science book of grade 2( or maybe, it was grade 1), there was one big picture of a frog. I always used to avoid opening that page. Just the sight of that picture would make me feel nauseated.

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  Then I grew up and with that, my disgust became fear. Thankfully we didn’t see much frogs where we lived, even during rainy season (just lizards!), so my life was peaceful.

   The real test of my bravery came up in grade 12. In biology lab, one day I was asked to pin the frog on the wax and make an incision. My hands were shaky, as were my legs. But, that’s life. It does come up with difficult times and you have to prove yourself. You can always run away, but it was then that I made a choice. To stand on my grounds, with honor. It was a war, between me and my fears, and I was a warrior. The frog was neatly dissected and all the organs were clearly exposed. My moment of glory was achieved. I had won.

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Next moment, I had punctured one of its lungs. Poor thing wasn’t dead after all, just unconscious.

   Today, when I saw a frog in my room, I didn’t shriek, jump or even feel disgusted. Instead, I just kept sitting and watched it go out of the door. I even told myself that this one is actually cute.


I’m poor….

   It’s Sunday morning. Finally, it’s Sunday morning. Although, I get real bad Monday-morning-fevers, but this is not what I want to think about right now. All I know is -it’s Sunday morning.

  As I open my eyes, I gather it must be 8 or 9 am. Without getting up, I think about all the things that I have put off for this day, so yes, I have things to do. A lot of things to do. But, they can wait. As I lay on my back, emptying my mind of all thoughts that can possibly penetrate and filling it with absolutely nothing, I stare at the ceiling. From the window, I see a tree. Leaves, with one side green and the other side yellow. As I’m still lying on my back, I focus on my breathing. There it is. One breath in, and then out. Another breath in and there. it goes out as well.

  In that moment, there is no beauty, no philosophy, no poetry but, tranquility. Tranquility, that only lazy people afford. Laziness, that only the rich afford. Rich, who is content. Rich, who does not fancy that he needs anything more than he actually needs. I’m poor.