Kafkasque

I am coming to terms with the reality, with the fact that I'm mediocre that I am not special in anyway I wish to be.

I am just another guy with the same limited set of skills that most have and will lead an uneventful, ordinary life, if lucky I'll get a job which are hard to come by, doing something which can be done by millions of guys who have the same degree as me and are equally or more skilled, and maybe in future, robots Will be used for what I would do.

I realise that I'm just playing different characters, at home I am " the son" , maybe if we tweak my parents minds to accept a well earning, grateful, well behaved and educated robot as their son , they won't even notice any difference, in other places I am "the friend"  but, who are we kidding here?

everything and everyone is replaceable even friendship, even love, there too it's rather easy to let go off me , it's tough to let go of the idea of me but not me, so the question here is what to do when you find yourself in a position like me, the answer is simple and it comes in various sizes from .22 to 1 and ironically they are all measured in caliber funny how that sounds so much like calibre, and you will see that a lot of people would volunteer to help you, give you reasons to live, say that you matter to them, but no don't give in to this honey trap, again it's their love for the idea of you not for you, they'll look for a light at the end of the tunnel, the tunnel of your soul but that's the extent to which even the most benevolent go, to the range their eyes permit them to look, they don't love you enough to risk getting lost in the dark finding the light that may or may not be hidden.

you'll hear things about change, about the prospect of letting go, they'll preach travel and spirituality, basically anything to keep your mind off the fact that you are what you are and maybe it's good, but they'll never stop expecting you to improve
You'll always be rated, graded, you'll be told of many things which you can be!

But, is it worth it?

You can deceive them easily, pose as a optimistic person, smile and say you would never give up and see how it works, but deep inside you will know what you are, who you are

So my question is do you have the courage to do the needful? , to be a martyr of your sanity, we live in a world where being opaque and insensitive is a virtue, where brilliance is accepted and mediocrity is celebrated, where you'll be taught the concepts of entropy and nonchalance  will render you a charisma, you will be implored to be vulnerable, but the moment you do that you will be helped, counseled and fed notions of how it's a dog eat dog world, of how only the fittest survive, the world will teach you how wrong it is to kill and still cheer for the gladiator drenched in blood, you'll see how the sum of your life is spent doing things which serve no one but you and yours

So I again implore you to answer the question I asked, to resolve this dilemma I have
It's either I live long enough to be cured and be one of them, the kind who sleep content and in peace with the fact that everything is temporary and replaceable, even you, or do I die!

Yes, die as the last sane person.

Wag this way

Today is the day I turn 15, old age has started to affect me, I am no more the nimble beast I used to be, I fear that there may come a day when I just go senile, but until that happens I am for now a cranky senior citizen, if you are wondering that how can a 15 year old be an old person, then congratulations, you belong to the second most narcissistic species (after cats) there is, who go by the moniker 'humans'.

I always had a tough life, the textbook 'dog's life', I never knew who my father was, I always had to bark and bite to get through life, all the women I came across in my life have literally  been bitches, but still i am grateful for not being born as a human. 

I was born near a slum, in an area where toddlers were clothed no more than I was, ate nothing different from what I ate and had the same insecurities that I had, but I saw them sad and angry, all because of the need to preserve their human dignity.

I would eat out of a trash can, drink out of a thrown one, walk naked on the streets and yet feel good about myself, so for these specific reasons I thank the creator who blessed me with a dexterous tail rather than a self conscious, self depreciating brain. 

As you all know how cuddle worthy and adorable we are as puppies, it was just a matter of time before I was picked up as a play buddy by some kid and indeed it happened one day, two boys came, mongrels like I was and we stuck a camaraderie, what started with a few biscuits finally resulted in them taking me home and my mom was true to the name (bitch) and was happy to see me leave. 

They were in a phase where the concept of rich and poor was yet to sink in, we played in the mud, we rejoiced in the rain and by the fires we danced like there was no worry in the whole damn world. 

I was with them, when their parents fought, when they were sent to do their chores, or when their parents needed some privacy, or when they ran from the frequent wrath of their drunken fathers, in short I was with them for the whole time a human from an impoverished home can be allowed to be a child, because as it stands for now, childhood, teenage etc are all a concept rather a reality meant only for the rich, in a world where every morsel requires a blood sacrifice, innocence is but a useless obligation much less a virtue. As they grew up I was given a name, Jaggu, they called me and I too deciphered that the kids know till now as munna and babua were Yatharth and Adarsh. 

Yatharth was the pragmatic one, the scarcity of money and due respect from the society embittered him, he was a Rebel, a renegade, he believed that in a world where money is the master, everything is a lie, he was enraged by the seasonal philanthropists, their fake tears, he could see them flinch at the stench of the slums, their game face they wore to mask the disgust they had for them filthy lot!. 

Adarsh to be more accurate was an oddity, even though he was a slum kid, he had an aura of nobility, while other kids were fast asleep, he was up waiting by the tap to have a bath, he had for the greater part of his life followed a self imposed moral code, which placed him at odds with Yatharth who believed that he was too saint like to survive in this country. 

Yatharth was a con, a thief, he was what you wanted him to be if you pay well enough, bikes mobiles and every other thing he had swindled at some point of time and yet being a con didn't have any repercussions on his conscience, though he easily could have been one, he was never a pimp, he was repulsed by the act of trafficking for the pleasures of the seedy underbelly of the society, but rather than cherishing this inability, he was angry at his emotions which came in the way of him having a prosperous life. 

Adarsh on the other hand, was a man who angers the flawed humans, he was selfless, he worked three jobs, all meagre, all petty, but his job was that of a teacher, for the slum kids, he brought them books, toys and apart from that he worked with the police as an informant, he was thrashed countless times by the drug and trafficking mafia, had it not been for Yatharth, he would have been dead by now. 

Their friendship was a turbulent one, Adarsh loathed the fact that he was under the protection of a goon, he was repulsed by the fact that he had Alliance with a thief and ostracized Yatharth every chance he got. 

Yatharth was fed up with his idealistic bullshit Adarsh was so full of, but deep within protecting him was his salvation, the bonds of mud which bound them ran stronger than the ties of blood, but all this, he kept within, on the surface he yelled curses and called him an ungrateful swine. 

both live on, walking on two different paths, a dog's life is too short to form conclusions, i have seen them both from the beginning, but sadly wouldn't be alive to witness the end, their struggle, their unending quest to achieve social status or rather social acceptance transcends the ideals of good and bad, they carved their own ways, but eventually, they too will find peace in their Graves. 

As for me, I am just a shabby mongrel, I have a fickle heart and alas! life is even meaner than a bitch!, for me there is no such thing as hard earned bread, flour is flour, bought with money however dark and murky or earned righteously tastes equally good to me, I go to them both, eat both types, and wag my tail for the time that I have left.