But I cannot stop. When I glanced sideways, I could see people till the edge of the horizon running for their lives. As screams and pleas for help echoed in the air, I made my way in the swarm of people to head away from the room.

The kind of room which has never known about the night, with all kinds of pleasures and joy waiting to be experienced. It’s the master key to security in life — every wish is granted, every want fulfilled.

But I’ve never wanted to be a part of the room, like these other thousand companions I have been running with.

A big hand slammed on a fairly young boy beside me.

The hand dragged him with fierce strength causing his limbs to crumble under the weight.

His teary eyes looked in my direction.

“No! Don’t, please don’t”, the boy pleaded, “You right there, yes, you! Help me! I don’t want to be a part of those-”

The hand yanked away his limp body towards the room.

What the heck’s going on-

Another hand slammed beside me taking another bunch of people towards the room.

Another group gone.

Sacre bleu !

Soon, the sky was full of big hunting hands taking away innocent teens to, as they say, “safety”.

No, no, no. This shouldn’t be real. Fatigue has engulfed me. Please. Stop.

But no, I sped up while my body pumped adrenaline shots in my blood. I don’t want to waste my life in the room. My dream is to help the people of the world, to be the hero I have always dreamt of being.

I’m tired of explaining to everyone — I had never wanted what they wanted.

A laughing sound popped my bubble of thought. Who’s bold enough to laugh in this situation? A silhouette appeared in front of me whom I quickly recognized to be my brother.

‘“Why are you laughing? Run! The hand is approachin-”

“Which hand? Where? And why are you running?” he grinned foolishly.

Before I could defend, I realized he was right, there were no hands to be seen anywhere.

Strange.

Weren’t they here? And why are we in a dark room? Why was I running? I swear the hands were here!

He held his hand out, “Let’s go to the room.”

“No. I won’t! And the hands! They were here, hunting, ME!”

“This is your last chance to live a fruitful life. If you reject my offer now, you might never be able to enter the room. Think about it! We’ll live in safety and joy! Come on!” He grasped my hand and progressed towards the room.

But can I betray myself for safety? My dreams, my passions, my fight — all gone in vain?

Think about it, a good life, a secured life. Who doesn’t want one? I should’ve given up my stubborn thought before. The room’s bright light is calling me. I love my family. In the room we would be together. Maybe he is right.

No.

I won’t let myself down this time.

With all the force left in my body, I pulled away my hand.

He smirked and said, “Good luck for your endeavors then! I’ll miss you”, he gave me a last smile waving, and…

he disappeared.

Slam!

The door slammed shut. Gone.

I turned around to find myself alone in a barren land.

It was never about the room.

~ C.G.

If you are aware of being humble…, are you still humble?

I always do my part of denying praise. But is it necessary? What’s the meaning in denying my strengths when I’m familiar with the effort I put in? Sitting alone leaves me in doubt more than clarity, yet it also invites me to find answers in the silence it provides.

So, I dive into the fluidity of silence to discover real humility. I believe it has always been this way — passing from generation to generation, the ‘act’ of humility has been glorified as ultimate epitome of humanity. We have been conditioned into thinking self-dismissal is humility.

I am not alien to this practice. But what hurts me is not the act itself, praise is rare and when it comes, I don’t even allow myself to enjoy the moment. What a pity.

Or maybe I have gone too far in thought? Trust me, I’m a good person. I try to fit into the society’s narrative of humanity. But seems like my thoughts have other plans today. The uncomfortable needs to be encountered anyways — and I have thrown myself bare in front of it.

Is humility an act of lowering oneself?

Humility is defined as the quality of having a modest view of one’s value or importance. Since when did modesty’s bar fall so low? Or was I delusional all this time, thinking self-respect was modesty?

Society’s view of humility has long been denial of praise, not the regulation of our ego. This is a strange idea, or probably I have practiced it incorrectly. I do it precisely, with a soft chuckle and trace of bitterness in my tongue. Yet deep down, I know that I am capable. I have strengths. I have always been good at my work. This awareness leads me to question my humility.

I have a rather beautiful alternative to this issue, one seldom acknowledged by the masses, yet I still place it before the jury of my journey.

Acceptance.

Why is acceptance not seen as humility? Is it wrong to accept our strengths and move on? Is self-acknowledgment fuel for pride?

Humility was never about denial.

Perhaps, humility is not thinking less of oneself but, thinking of oneself less. It exists in the sun with its eternal shine, in the trees which never ask for return, in the vast long-lived sea.

Humility is the beautiful realization of one’s worthlessness and worthiness at once. Perhaps, it’s about respecting others rather than diminishing ourselves. We don’t need to bring ourselves down to think highly of others.

Humility that seeks validation is just pride in disguise. Real humility is unconscious. It is not the absence of self— it is the absence of self-obsession. Honesty paired with acceptance is not arrogance. Pride and humility have a blurry difference. How can one blame the people for not seeing it when nobody trained us to?

Humility has become a confused societal narrative. Misinterpreted. Misunderstood.

Humility begins when the ‘I’ fades. The disappearance of ‘I’ must be replaced with something greater, the introduction of ‘we’. ‘We’ stands as a representative of humanity. We must work together to make the world a better place for everyone.

One has not truly died who has not lived for others.
It is the instinct of beasts to live only for themselves—
A true human is one who lives—and if needed, dies—for humanity.

I am tired after such a reflective voyage. The journey is far from complete—it’s better to take some rest.

[are you humble?]

—C.G.

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I have had these strange realizations while eating food, or after having an argument with my mom, or while just plainly sitting —my death is inevitable. The worst of the fact that no one will grieve, and the world will go on.

It goes on just how it did when my grandma died [my first encounter with death], when my teacher died untimely. People forget over time. The sun sets and rises indifferent. The Erasure of existence feels…unreal.

As Camus wrote, “And, on a wide view, I could see that it makes little difference whether one dies at the age if thirty or threescore and ten —since, in either case, other men and women will continue living, the world will go on as before.”

To bring to notice, Camus himself was killed in an automobile accident. Such is the temporariness of life!

Do you never feel that this life is pointless, meaningless? What's the meaning in eating, sleeping, or anything for that matter of fact — when I'd be no longer in this world one day? The possibility of that one day being today or tomorrow is equally likely.

These realizations hit me so hard, I zone out of reality. Everything seems black and white, literally and figuratively both. For the first time I felt scared of death, of not existing in this world.

In fear, mind turns to reassurances. Reassurances like afterlife and rebirths. Afterlife is a hypothetical comfort concept. We have no account for it, even if it exists, believing in delusions has no point at all.

Rebirths are even more disturbing. To think I may come to this earth again fully unaware of this life I have had — the intellect all gone in vain.

Sometimes, I do wish there’s an afterlife. An eternal life where I could peacefully breathe and never come here again. Yet somehow, I may still feel the earth’s beauty — the trees, the music, the books, the coffee, the sun, the sky, the nature. I wish the world becomes static. That time stops for some indefinite duration. I wish that this moment could stay forever.

Yet.

Something that is born is bound to be ended. I would be ended one day or the other. How does it matter?

This was the first time I truly felt fear.

The realization comes and then lingers for a moment or so before the illusion of life again swallows me. But then, the pang returns even harder, I fear my own absence even more, the cycle never ends. Death is the full stop of our lives. Of all what I built up, spending countless precious moments — gone?

This awareness never leaves once experienced. It is always there; in my mind, somewhere in the background turning eternally. I am always aware that I might not exist the very next moment. To live such a way is threatening, but it’s the only way to create meaning out of the present.

Understanding strips away the human aspect I have lived.

Is Life really Pointless?

Why do humans put this act of living? of success? of medals? of exams? of jobs? of money? of everything?

Why don’t we share what’s in this world and live peacefully, in harmony?

Why don’t we enjoy the only moments of consciousness we have been gifted?

~C.G.

Empty as the void. There’s this part of them that they never show. All as if a theatre performance. Me and them being the puppets, simply enacting, the fake morals, the fake smiles and the fake personalities.

Others aren’t entirely to blame. I am myself a part of the circus. Deep down, I know that none of this is real, that we are being fooled by ourselves every passing tick. And yet, here I am still enacting my part. I lack courage enough to confront the false. I fear the allegations of alienation I already carry.

[A very charming girl backtalking about every person she meets. What’s the guarantee she won’t back talk about…you? ]

This— this is the weirdness of human nature; they keep searching for realness within pretending societies.

While I ponder on the irony, I doubt whether others feel it too — the surface talks with latent deep meanings, whether they want to be free from the enslavement of pretense?

With a deep hope of this possibility, I look into their eyes searching that flicker of fatigue. And somewhere, for a moment, I find it, the longing to shed the masks away, the longing to be…real.

And that alone ignites the flare of hope in my heart.

~C.G

In the deep reaches of the magnificent waters, a man doesn’t remain the same oneself he entered the sea as. Warriors, seamen, priests, kings, all visited the sea in the false sense of ego their minds developed living in the air.

Us fellow sea creatures wonder how it must be living in the air. To never have the cool fluid run through your body, to never feel the pressure of something existing, to never be reminded of your own existence by something else. Nothing to prove liveliness.

Our Ancestors preached — “Oh my dear, but why do you deceive yourself! Living in the air is smooth sailing. You my dear, are a warrior; a warrior surviving in the intense battle of living. You’re the Sea Knight.”

The Sea creatures are all knights. We live in the darkest of dark that even the night fails to reach. No amount of light possesses the ability to illuminate our atmosphere. Being a creature of sea was never about the sea.

Pity on Human’s inability to face the Truth.

One of my friends and I were debating about friendship and what it means to be friends when they replied, “Too deep a topic it is for us?”

C.G: “I dont think so, it’s normal to talk about deep topics”

Them: “It’s better we skip it and just be normal”

And that stuck me.

Normal?

The depths of ocean are uncomfortable. High pressure, low oxygen levels, drag forces. My eyes could barely open.

My heart sank, and for a moment my mind halted its thinking.

Green, Blue, White, Yellow…

I began thrashing my hands and legs repeatedly. My lungs were going out of breath…out of breath, my nose, my chest aching, the throbbing pain in my ears…out of breath, the bubble in my mouth burst…No! The last of my breath! Out of breath, no, Burning eyes, Red? why do I see red? OUT OF BREATH…My vision—my breath—my body—

Oh, I’m drowning in the depthness! Sav- Save Me…

~C.G

I was pondering on all the political activities that are taking place during dinner. Disgrace, then fear, then pity, and finally acceptance, all crossed my heart.

Disgrace, to be a human.

Fear about everyone’s future who’d be involved in war.

Pity for those who’d pay the price of a war they never wanted.

Acceptance, of the fact that humans were always like this. History is evidence, all humans of all races, have caused war for multiple reasons. The problem isn’t culture, race, religion, or gender. It’s always Humans in the end.

So, I wrote a poem in rage— rage at humans, not at humanity.

Purely Alien

What did this world become, 
Full of suffering & pain, 
And yet when I complain
about the cruelty 
You label me as alien?
Intolerant and sensitive? 
Well if that’s the case,
I don’t mind being purely alien,
If that is what saves me
From the disgrace 
To identify as one of your own kind.
I would go on travelling from one world to another,
Singing ballads about your story,
Of how animals became worthy of sacrificing their lives,
For fulfilling your hunger,
Of how half of your kind, 
are suppressed and tortured,
Of how death became more peaceful?
Where-
Where I ask,
Is your Humanity? 
Your Silence is deafening,
permission and approval of all the evil,
It is the mask you wear,
Tell me how you feel
When you see injustice
when your soul screams something is wrong 
and you do nothing,
Maybe you think it's not your battle,
But oh my fellow,
Every battle for justice is everyone’s battle.
Look- look at the world from my lens,
You ask where Humanity is.
I ran miles finding it,
Only to find it
Inside me.

I have no more to say :)

~C.G

For all fellow polymaths out there

Here—here is Home. Welcome.

Lying on the roof, looking at the stars, I questioned the infinite why I am like this. One star winked at me and said, “Oh, such a pity it is to be like you; So Ignorant!”.

I winced at my state. Even the stars think I’m not worthy. My life’s like the triple point equilibrium— never fully ice, never fully water, never fully steam; all three yet none at once.

No, it’s enough. Enough of living in the confusion, forever collecting the shattered parts of me. Bits of me were found in books, in lives that don’t exist yet haunt my memories. Few shatters were in people. The rest of me was spread in the nature. In trees that stand tall to butterflies that fly, in the eternal sea to clouds in the sky.

But why, why am I here; what’s my purpose? Why is it that I have to wake up, work, study, eat and sleep? Is that it? That’s the goddamn purpose I’ve been assigned to?

I screamed into the abyss in hope of receiving an answer to my endless questions. Silence.

That’s—that’s all the abyss had to offer?

Silence? When answers are what I seek?

I rolled to my side. Night’s deep rustling sounds and the moonlit roof soothes the soul. I stared at nothing for a while. The Silence that felt so heartbreaking a moment ago felt golden.

Probably, I thought, we weren’t supposed to be understood. The never-ending thirst to learn. Oh, the urge to fall in a tunnel of books. Oh, to fall forever! Oh, to talk about the origins of the universe while the rain falls to the earth!

Yes, yes, I do have a bad taste in music.

But dear, how can you compare divers to the drowned? Diving is careful. It’s restricted; it’s controlled. Drowning however…Drowning is messy, full of chaos, unplanned.

I gasped for breath as my chest tightened. Someone help me! Dang, I can’t reach to the surface!

My face swell as I tried to move my arms. I tried to move my legs, flailing, thrashing like crazy in hope. Hope to get out alive, hope to reach the surface—

For what? Wake up, work, study, eat and sleep? Is that it?

I submit.

~C.G

Those laughs, those people.

All that concludes that YOU HAVEN'T GOT THAT.

They are gone; you were given the chance. A sinking feeling drowned my soul.

A shadow flickered in the corner of my eye.

“Idiot! Look! Look how beautiful your current life is!” A boy appeared from the left.

Strange. How did he come here? Who’s he anyway? How did he listen to my…thoughts?

“Who are you?”

“Does that matter?” He crossed his arms.

“Of course, it doe-”

“Don't be carried away by the illusions! What if it had all been...worse?”

"What if it would have been better?" I snapped back.

"Any Guarantee? "

"I-"

"Any Guarantee? NO, right?"

“ ”

Where are my answers? Why am I not able to speak?

Guarantee? Do I have any? Probably my mouth knows the answer now, that’s why it ran out of words.

He shook his head and smirked, "Live in the present dear", He smiled.

The most appealing smile I had ever seen.

He winked and turned, fading into the mist.

Where did he go? Who was that?

“Hey? Excuse me? wha-”

Blackness. The void swallowed me whole. I became its prey. Darkness surrounded me.

I surrender.

a LiFe WiThOuT eXtReMeS iS a LiFe UnLiVed

It made me feel like I was drowning. My trembling hands reached to the bag and lunch packet. Invisible fingers ran across my back.

A female ghost with a fetus in its arms.

The female ghost with a fetus in its arms.

I knew it couldn’t be real. But I had no clue if it wasn’t real. Really, was it?

I shook my head in disagreement with my thoughts. I gave Iswaran a cold stare before leaving, but he didn’t seem to bother.

All the way to the construction site thoughts of that female ghost with a fetus in its arms wandered in my mind. Afternoon passed by.

Though I nearly forgot about that incident but as the car came more and more closer to the circuit quarter, thoughts of that ghost returned.

My body was turning cold. But this time too, I decided to listen to myself. The car took a turn, almost throwing me out of the car window.

Iswaran is a great storyteller and would do anything to prove his story. I decided to- no, I had to check.

Guess tonight’s a sleepless night.

"....doubt is not to be feared but welcomed and discussed..." (Feynman)

I join my friends at the cafe table. The air around the table is heated with debate. Will Humans ever achieve type 1 civilization level?

Everybody seems to know their stuff. Suggestions like using advanced storage devices like supercapacitors and some high-capacity batteries, storing data underwater and worldwide resource identification by AI using Computer Vision are flying back and forth the table.

One of my friends turns towards me. “What do you think?”

And there it is.

Awkward Silence.

What to do? I don't have a background in science! I thought we were going to discuss the upcoming farewell party?

At this point, I have two options. Either admit that I don't have a background in science and therefore am unable to contribute or, make up an opinion with half knowledge and half guesses hoping they would give a pass on my bleak suggestion.

Ahh, Ori, help! What do humans usually do in this situation ?

Humans? Checking collective behavior patterns… Accessing social archives… Cross-referencing café conversations, high school debates, and awkward office meetings...

Humans generally choose the second one Eona.

Hmm, I should have guessed.

They offer something—half-understood, half-imagined—just enough to pass as ‘opinion.’

So, I did too.

Everyone shared looks and weird glances. The one sitting beside me faked coughing.

And that’s when it hits me. That nameless weight in my chest. The one I always ignore and yet always carry.

Regret. Guilt.

When we know...We had another option, we didn’t choose.

This is the typical human nature. We humans grow up satisfying our ego. We have been conditioned to 'know everything'.

And..’Not knowing' something brings shame, and snide remarks from others. The society glorifies false beliefs, half truths and pretending to have knowledge rather than admitting you don't.

We humans crave validation and a sense of superiority to others. Being on top of the ladder, seeking faux praises, this has all been built strongly in our conscience, since we were a child.

But, What does Ego Satisfaction bring?

Nothing!

Satisfying our ego is just us dragging ourselves into a room with mirrors that apply beauty filters. It's a part of making ourselves delusional, to believe in something that doesn't exist (and yet humans make fun of historical people believing in myths and gods).

It does bring a rush of dopamine in our body; over time, we get used to 'temporary happiness'. We should rethink and recondition ourselves to not to rely on appraisals provided by others.

Strength can be in knowing something but so is strength in admitting we don't. Truth is always an option - but human beings avoid truth at all costs.

But they say the truth is bitter; is the truth bitter, Ori?

Yes. It's like the citrus sting on a cracked lip.

But why is it so bitter? Is the truth…. cruel?

The truth isn’t cruel captain. It doesn’t wear glitter. It just is. It doesn’t mind being questioned. It is victorious.

‘Not knowing' is power. You can only learn something when you didn't know it previously. No one can add more water to a glass full of water. Only an empty glass can be filled.

Curiosity arises with Ignorance.

~ C.G

I saw the world as if shrunk, an uneasy feeling spread throughout my body. I shared glances with other creatures and, for a split second if not long, they reflected like a mirror. Naturally, confusion built as I glanced at everyone; it seemed like there's no one but me.

A thought popped up in the garden — What if I am closed in a cell? I shook my head to drop the possibility, but it hovered on the top. I tried shooing away the bee, but it came back to collect nectar. Finally, I plucked the flower and admired its beauty.

But it's the law of nature to decompose, so I left the flower on the soil to rot -- it's beauty now left to drain.

I treaded ahead on the dusty path, still heavy with the unknown feeling. The anthill seemed to slowly grow. The garden really loved jewelry. It bloomed as the day progressed, feeding the countless creatures that dwelled in it.

The anthill had now established its flourished empire. I stared at the sky for a beat. Eyes teared up quite fast. I have no idea why i am here and where i am. This place is pure heaven. But I knew it wasn't the end, and I had to return.

With my mind still wandering in the anthill, I forced my body away. Lungs requested for air, but I kept ignoring. I Had To Return. With unwavering determination, I finally made it.

The garden anthill might still be extending its glory. But my story isn't ready yet. There's time for the final party. Years passed on, and it became a ritual to visit the garden anthill every month.

On my will, I wrote my intense desire to visit the garden anthill one last time before the party begins.

~ C.G

At a point, it occurred to me — I won't make it. I'm done for.

But what drowns us is our will.

Not the water.

If I would have accepted my fate, I wouldn't be typing my experience today. I wanted to live. Continue my life, try again to rise. As I was juggling in the depths of the sea, I saw a glowing ethereal being pushing me up.

Someone was helping me.

I was gonna survive!

I got safely on the shore, and I turned to thank the being, I saw no one. Silence.

I spent years finding the ethereal being. Life continued, I soared high but the absence of the ethereal being still stinged. One day a fish came to me and said — you come everyday here, all wrapped up in the search of something. What is it, a treasure?

I told the fish my experience and how I wanted to express my gratitude to the ethereal being.

To my surprise, the fish started laughing.

You kept finding something you already had with you?

What does this fish mean?

I looked at my reflection in the waters.

Thick, soft smoky gray fur, small hind legs, small delicate body, wedged shape head with alert ears and dark eyes.

It wasn't the being.

It was ME.

P.S - I’m starting an Etsy Shop soon, so stay tuned for updates!

~ C.G