at my new office, I write about sarees, ornaments, shirts and suits. It's alright, in the sense, that it numbs me. No inspiration required, no thinking. It is most spontaneous - where I am and am not.
today however the first problematic rose in that new space. I was writing about some earring or necklace, free of judgement and describing it blissfully bereft of passion, completely detached from the whole affair. I was so out of it that I was so absorbed. Does it make sense? Anyway I was writing, oblivious to everything else including the projector where they were projecting THE match which would lead to the strengthening of patriotism for most or to distasteful slandering of the players, when suddenly everyone around me started getting up. They were playing the national anthem on the screen. I told myself I don't have to get up, don't get up - don't be a hypocrite. But you know, no matter how much your visceral ideologies deny it, your skin gives in to the pressure. And I got up reluctantly, my insides rebelling against my actions. There was no truce.
But I fit in.
today however the first problematic rose in that new space. I was writing about some earring or necklace, free of judgement and describing it blissfully bereft of passion, completely detached from the whole affair. I was so out of it that I was so absorbed. Does it make sense? Anyway I was writing, oblivious to everything else including the projector where they were projecting THE match which would lead to the strengthening of patriotism for most or to distasteful slandering of the players, when suddenly everyone around me started getting up. They were playing the national anthem on the screen. I told myself I don't have to get up, don't get up - don't be a hypocrite. But you know, no matter how much your visceral ideologies deny it, your skin gives in to the pressure. And I got up reluctantly, my insides rebelling against my actions. There was no truce.
But I fit in.
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