Basboosa

 ‎"If you don't see me, I'll burn myself." 

Basboosa

Mohamed Bouazizi sold produce on his cart all day long to provide for his family. Basboosa, as he was called by the locals, gave up his hopes of a university degree as it was an unrealistic dream that his harsh life wouldn't grant him.

He was sensitive to the torment inflicted on the innocent locals by the municipal authorities, and he was angry. Rage burned in him like a phoenix which would only burn out after self- immolation, rebirth. 

Faida Hamdi and her municipal henchmen had harassed him and destroyed his cart, his means of livelihood. She had slapped him, spat on his face and called his dead father 'a coward who killed himself'. 

Standing outside the governor's office, expecting no reply to his cries and complaints against the injustice that life itself had become, Basboosa thought to himself, "When there is nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire."

And then he lit the match that set fire to the Tunisian Revolution.

Why Did I Ponder On This As A Little Boy?

What do you do when you've done all you can and still can't make someone content?

You try harder. Or something. 

I mean how hard is to make people happy? 

I think I can answer that. Get a hold of a time machine.

This is a moment of absolute genius. Isaac Asimov would be proud.

Just go back in the godforsaken past and right your wrongs. Make better decisions, lower causalities. 

But no, even that won't do any good. Because the gist of the matter is that in your dimension you have already fucked up so even if you would go back and do things differently you would just enter a different dimension. 

So basically, you're fucked for eternity. Even if you somehow manage to find yourself a time machine and reverse shit, you're still pretty much fucked.   

Humans err right? Then why are we given hell about deeds committed in the past? 

Mistakes you've learnt from, having sworn to never repeat the same or something similar. 

But no, the promise to be good doesn't help. 

Nor does doing everything you can to keep the bridge intact that connects the both of you.

Little by little, every passing day.. you observe strains on the bridge. Tiny cracks that don't really threaten the foundations but then again who likes a scratch on their shiny car.

You touch up the scratches and do your best to repair what's wrong but the repairs keep on breaking, all your efforts are temporary. 

You don't remember a time when everything was sunny, everything was simple.
You don't remember a time when you were both content, satisfied.
Complications arise, your past deeds deemed unlawful, illegal.
But then you smile, remember there's low and then there's high tide.

Frandship

Just this evening my mother made a very interesting observation. She said that the way her generation grew up and the way her parent’s cohorts were raised was similar if not the same. But there is a vast difference in which mine, which is her son’s age group, has grown up and the lifestyle they have as well. Social networking sites are one of those monumental changes in the lifestyle of the yesteryear and today’s technologically spoilt age.

All that you need to know about a person is accessible from their Facebook profile. Sexual orientation, relationship status, the kind of movies, books and music they like, people they admire, sports they play, their vies about everything… et all. It’s almost like you don’t need to speak to a person anymore to get to know them better, which in essence is ridiculous. We are reduced to a generation of robots with smilies for expressions. We are reduced to a pair of eyeballs that are excited by something as trivial as a bra strap in a display picture.

But then again it’s not all apocalyptic, there’s a world of good happening because of these social networking sites as well of course. Getting to know new people has never been this easy; staying in touch with that friend in the other side of the world has never been this undemanding. You go out to a pub, see a pretty face, ask for her name, add her on Facebook, start chatting and before you know it you are in their pants or whatever your primary objective was. It’s an easy world, our brain cells are dying. Devolution is what this is, going back to our ape roots. What’s next? Leaves for clothes?

Wastage of time is a bane though. We sit for hours together doing absolutely nothing on Facebook, expecting God knows what to happen. That pretty girl you added last night is not going to add you straightaway. That hotshot guy will not say hi on chat to you unless you make a move. Social networking sites are no miracle escapes; it’s just like real life where you have to make the effort to reap the reward. And this is what people do not understand.

I Am An Astronaut

Try looking down.

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I am an astronaut 

I'm in my space shuttle, my very own little satellite... orbiting the world.

No one looks at me, I see everyone.

This little space shuttle is my planet, my world

My space suit is my armor, my shield against the crass noise that everything is.

Everyone, everywhere gives way to a plague of irritation

Words, actions, feelings, emotions... unnecessary.

Hug myself tight, become a ball... get lost in this fish bowl of lost souls. 

I want to hibernate and never wake up, never exit my peaceful slumber.

I like being alone, no one to trouble you

But alas, I want to be troubled at times... no one seems to care then.

Can't blame them, after all... I'm an astronaut.

Wearing a shiny space suit, living in a little space shuttle.

Hey, my space suit is shiny for a reason

Notice me, I'm shining.

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Lullaby:

I am an astronaut - Snow Patrol

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