One’s own feats

Just a thought –

The feel of “regret”, sometimes, is obligatory for yours and other’s life.

thoughts-girl-lake

The world out there is a unification of a race, that complicate a humble life. This is nothing novel. The attention-grabbing trait is, how the human qualities are sinking.

A layman is capable of blaspheming someone or something to an inconceivable level.

It comes so naturally to people nowadays. It doesn’t even take a whiplash second to digest their act. And every one of us gets away with these lines, “I’m a human too and I tend to make mistakes. What is the big deal?”

Some argue that it is dependent on how the kid is nurtured. With smirks, you again can’t get away by pointing figure at someone else.

I recently came across a person, who I venerated and ended up with abhorrence. It is not about the concept of people change. For all I know, change is constant. It is about how few people are upright at feigning and how few people are naïve. Believe me, being naïve is errant.

I often ponder on the thought, if only emotional exploitation is indictable, how many would dare to do it? Again, it is not about making it unlawful but it is vouching upon the probability of how many would knock their cognizance before doing something atrocious to another being.

I can bet on the fact that this person I came across in the journey of life, would be the cheapest I can ever combat. Simply because this person had all of it. Getting to know this person, I’m assuming the level of being cheap grows with time rather than diminishing and trying to be a better person. Fascinating fact is that this person makes sure that the same thing is reiterated with more intensity later in life. I have been a prey, there were many earlier and would be more too. It took ages for me to get over this priceless experience and compromise on my idiocy. I call it priceless experience because I’m a utopian. It did break me, but I made sure to pick every single piece up.

What was the most infuriating truth? The person was not sorry for what was done. The person’s feats annihilated a girl. A family. A dream. A life. A hope. A promise. A wish. However, all these unseen stooges, didn’t mean anything to anyone. It was all obscured. Perpetually. The person, who did this, was simply not even sorry about it. Not even sorry. The least, a human can emote for his callous acts. All that the person chose to do was to pelt. The person never turned back to see what happened to all of them.

But how does it matter?

I discern that it doesn’t matter. When it matters, if it matters, the person would be in front of each victim at some point in life. Regret. For one’s own feats.

It will. Someday.

The person will pay for his peccadillos.

Priya

St. James Church

London

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