Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Hear me Rant!

Ranting is very satisfying. Personally, I could rant for pages. Whenever I write, I stop myself when the piece takes a turn towards that area and track back. For as much as I would love to indulge, I know how difficult it is to read/listen to a rant. Sometimes, I log into Facebook and look longingly at the small rectangle that says, "What's on your mind?" Oh, if you only knew...

Ranting and righteousness go hand in hand. It's a symbiosis with the tag line "I'm SO right, the world MUST know!" It's a childlike instinct that is quite amusing. When Indians indulge, it's downright hilarious, but in an endearing way. With our emphatic head nods, exaggerated expressions, large sweeping hand gestures and faulty volume control, witnessing one of our own justifying their side of the story is nothing short of dramatic entertainment. I've often played the part of the sympathetic listener, so I know.

My mom is usually the person I rant to. But even she lets her eyes glaze over midway. It's a huge blow to the concept of unconditional love, I tell you.  As to what I rant about, aah, now we get to the meaty bit.

This is the part where, if you have any sense, you'll stop reading and make a run for it. But then, drama beats sense any day. I hope.

Of late, I've been meeting people who seem to have one goal- inducting me into their faith. Since I deal with these people officially, and because I like to think I'm a nice person, I don't tell them to shut the heck up, for the love of God! I don't understand faith that needs propagating. Seriously. To me, faith is the silent smile of a true saint, the steadiness of gravity beneath my feet, the strength that comes from help given and received, the perfect contentment of knowledge gained by experience. It is never heard, only felt. It cannot be spoken, only radiated. And please! Just because I don't speak about faith, doesn't mean I don't have one. Which brings me to my second rant.

When I ask many people their opinion about a topic, they seem to think I'm an ignoramus seeking enlightenment. It's SO infuriating to be lectured to like a child when I've been reading voraciously since the age of 4 and hello, living life since I was born! I think that's one of the reasons I really love talking to my brother. He's the only person I've ever met who always, ALWAYS, tells me what he thinks and then turns around to ask me what I think. What is intelligence without open-mindedness, confidence without humility? Infuriating. He taught me that.

And this is how a rant usually ends if you're lucky. You realize you have something or someone who lifts you out of it. My mom, who never insists I follow her religion, siblings who give my thoughts weight, friends who share without shame...

You know, sometimes, silver linings come in the form of golden people.

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