the evening sun

the culture of excess. thats what i abhor. i can go on and on how we are programmed, how society controls our actions and how we are so caught up in the worldly pursuit of things that we forget to live life .. just a little bit. we cant be completely happy and nor can we be perfect and nor there can be this perfect moment. life itself is an anamoly, if there was perfection there would be no evolution. we evolved to what we are today due to the anamoly, an accident. but the spirit of humankind is the attempt at perfection. the incremental progress that we strive for. the irony. life can be an accident, the law of large numbers. do you know that if you have an infinite number of monkeys typing one is bound to reproduce the complete works of shakespeare.

and we feel or sometimes we are even made to feel that imperfection is what we need to seek to resolve. the lack of perfect happiness is why we wonder our life is empty. in an attempt to satisfy this need people look in the wrong direction. corporations are made to take advantage of this with the never ending products and things and stuff. we are made to believe that if we buy a thing that somehow magically our emptiness will disappear. its a self fulfilling prophecy albeit a temporary one. your car will not give you happiness, buying armani will not give you happiness , buying a house will not. again am not saying you dont need to have it , but thats not what we are looking for. look inside yourself, think and think and analyze. be at peace with yourself. love yourself. not in the self narcissism that people now exhibit.  its just impossible that life can be only about a house , car and some expensive clothes to wear. it cannot be an evolutionary goal.

kamlesh paused for a bit. cristine looked at him .. she wryly thought this was the same guy who thought perfection existed. that was him alright. the one who pined for utopia, perfection, this pure unadulterated feeling that humans are capable of. the primal , the emotion that is stripped of all the mascara at its most skeletal form. all the pretentiouness gone with the wind, just the sincere truth that is him. but he was still sincere, only he could never accept in the past that an utopian society didnt exist. he demanded the sky of his friends. even from her. maybe only from her and possibly siddique. but he was a child lost in a candyshop. and when she fell from those lofty standards he set , he was deeply hurt. she knew it. it was inevitable. she tried to explain it to him but he wouldnt listen. but now he had made peace with it. he resigned himself to it, but given his way he would want to design utopia.

siddique stood patiently listening to him. intellectualizing ideals that mattered not a bit for survival. he admired them but he knew it was only good to listen to it , revel in it. but then after they go back to their houses , the grind of life starts. you need to get a job, you need to earn money , you need to buy a house , you need to buy a car and so on. siddique realized the three of them are privileged, they didnt struggle for a house or food or education. yet the speech was profound and he would have his say later.

the evening sun was slowly winding up its journey into those orange skies. they burned like the passion with which kamlesh spoke. the cool breeze wrapped the three of them in a bond of invisible faith. kamlesh paced up and down the marbled floors of the building terrace. siddique rested against the grey wall with his arms folded as he looked at the distant sun. he wondered when it will stay always shining in his life. he felt alone without kamlesh and cristine. he knew kamlesh and cristine loved each other in the most pristine manner possible but that was also why they could not express it. he just hoped that it would not eventually destroy their friendship. cristine shifted her hair and she looked at the distant sun and hoped it would never set on her.

we should start a revolution. kamlesh was jolted by those words by cristine.