IMPATIENCE

…and my life demands that. I cannot believe that patience is a virtue. Why should anyone bear or take any or everything that life unravels to them? If moving on is all that life is ,why is there a concept of love or faith? If drifting like a log on the river is the only way to the abode of peace, why does the mind crave for companionship? Why should there be passion, or even fashion?

If patience is meant for people, I haven’t yet found a person deserving my absolute patience, and I believe most of us never. Momentary life; false patience might not last. The stock keeps running me out, and I don’t see the reason to fill it up. Guess people might blame me for being too ambitious, over-confident and silly. When they think I am on my toes, always, ready to run, I smirk at their ignorance. Why run, when I can fly, dear friend? I fly, tiny world. At times, like a migratory bird, swamping across the marshes, measuring the oceans with my silky wings. Sometimes, like a rainbow feathered peacock, half way across the earth or a jump and a hop within my territory. Maybe I give the impression of being rank-certain or a damned failure. Well, if you care for some truth, I am smug, I think way too high about myself.

I like being able to rush through life. It comes from the ability to smell death beneath my eyelashes. I am determined not to let death take away my life. The only and the best way is to risk risking. I have figured out that patience brews and stokes the weakening emotions in a person. I would rather be and do than wait, just for that.

It is better for me to feed the thousand thoughts in me scrupulously, reaping the fruits of the one idea that managed to grow past my skull. I hate doing two things at a time, only because I can’t do ten thousand. In fact that makes me a pseudo-genius or even a Miss. Ravana. I have given the freedom to question myself incessantly and observe prolonged silence too. This way, I have the choice of criticizing or grieving over a thought, oh, anything in place of just enduring, I must confess. I always take the decisions, I don’t see the need to adhere verbatim. This makes me critically contradictory; in fact I am just holding on to the pole called consistent impatience.


I don’t know why people do this. I don’t know why what they do gets to me. Why would anybody looking at a sea or sky think it is so vast, so deep, so beautiful, so endless and consider themselves a speck from nothingness? I thought this piece of rubbish is propagated only by religious troops, who want to place God above nature and nature above man and so on and so forth. But I am terribly mistaken. This is a slow poison spreading wide. A channelized muse revealed to me that, all this is the byproduct of patience. It is the passivity of the sea and sky, or even the earth that draws people to it. “Behold, thou shalt rule the world” seems to be their order. Hold on, I could do with just living, remains mine.

But there exists a single reason why I shall reserve a few drops of my patience for. It is for those who have tried to teach me the art of patience by keeping me waiting. Not out of respect to their ability to discover my capacity, but just as a way of experimenting with life. I shall be patient, impatiently, and let you know the pangs of impatience, patiently. Good luck, you patients, die easy.