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richasmukherjee.com

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opinions

Static


The axis of just about everyone’s personal universe is balanced on something precarious and unpredictable.What will he think? What will she think? Will I look stupid? What will they think if I fail?

This brotherhood of apprehensions comes in a thick book full of myriad shade cards.

One more debilitating than the other, leading to paralysis.

Of intent, actions, determination and resolve.

It’s that same look you see on a child’s face, tapping his bat nervously, waiting for the ball to come in the backdrop of a sea of expectant faces.

Behind stooped shoulders and a quivering mouth, desperate to answer a lingering questioned scribbled and left unanswered on a blackboard.

In an unfinished joke that withers away on unsure lips.

On the beads of perspiration dripping down throbbing temples, which were full of a speech, now frozen, having already predicted failure and judgement.

All they really need to do is see nothing, assume nothing, hear nothing, but the sound of their own voices.

They are the masters of their destinies.

Opinions and tags are like transient ash from a withering campfire.

Long after the ash, fire and heat are gone, what will remain are the coals and pebbles of their determination.

Noise


I feel like a misfit sometimes.

Like I’m a pair of trousers one size too large or a glove too tiny.

In this world full of strong and heavy opinions, so many of them, of all shapes sizes and textures, where do my ambivalent, amorphous, wafting thoughts and ideas stand ?

I think these opinions stalk me.

I wake up and open the newspaper, there they are.

I’m making my hearty breakfast and they come floating in through the window from the neighbours yard, right above my crispy bacon.

I switch on the television and they fill my nostrils.

God forbid if I ever pause at the coffee machine at work for more than a second, they’ll hunt me down.

Without even being mine they weigh me down,crowd my mind.

Everyone else seems so decided on just about everything that moves on this planet.

Why must I remain fluid then?

Maybe I still have more to learn.

Maybe I still have more to see.

Maybe I still have more to hear.

A time will come, when my mind has all the answers I seek, even as I sit aimlessly, perched by the windowsill.

A wise man once said that a glass half empty is much better than when it is too full.

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