Are you Altruist? Not Really?

Let me get to the point, now!
I am going to launch a pet project which is going to pay me back. Trust me! Would you like to share the returns?

For now I just need someone to make a whacky looking website for me. I'd like to get over this hurdle first & foremost. The website must look fresh & attractive. I also want to incorporate features for payment collection apart from the regular payment gateways. I want inputs on that front as well.

Keeping all these things in mind, I'd ideally like to brainstorm with a designer and come up with something which looks original.

Here is the deal:
Help me set up a personal business website...You will be compensated in cash & kind, yes both.

You can help me with contacts, personal experiences/hacks, anything ... just any help!!!

You can shoot me an e-mail :
You could also give me a call : (+91) - 8826035485
You could also ask for Coffee/Tea : Let's meet?  

Let's compare our Scars

This is not going to be an entertaining or an escapist read. So, close the tab if you are looking for something in that general category.

Scars! We all get bruised many times in our lives but few bruises stay and become permanently carved as scars in us. These scars, romanticists may say are the aspects of our personality that makes us beautiful. But are we supposed to believe in the beauty their eye beholds? More so, the question rumbles for this particular group of people who not only have a tendency to see things with their rose tinted glasses but they also attach an over emotional attachment to everything under the sun.

Scars don't define us, they don't make us beautiful, they don't teach you any lesson, they are just fossilised experiences stored in the form of weird marks to be seen either with physical eyes or sentient ones. They hide a story, lying dormant in them. Stories which mean the world to the possessor of scars. They don't make anyone weak, strong or mature. They just change your worldview.

Once in a while new experiences may infringe upon the personal space of these scars. They may interfere with the very existence of these old dwellers. These experiences may adjust & come in terms with their ancestors and live in perfect harmony. But! Not always. There are instances when fresh experiences may turn your scar into a gangrenous wound. Then, what do we have? I have no idea!!!

Are we supposed to compare our scars? Perhaps not! Not everyone can be objective enough to appreciate the pain of others. In this particular case, subjectivity is an accomplice to the act of apathy & coldness, unusually. No matter what any one says, we all have a greater subjective weight for our own worries, wounds, grief, pain, pangs & penchants. And, we tend to project these distorted viewpoint in an objective manner. This is certainly very apathetic.

We all grow up with different set of experiences and depending upon a lot of factors, we may choose to associate relevance with all of them in various random ways. Societal upbringing forces us to take lessons from each one of them and become a better participant. This is perhaps self-fulfilling because when we try to learn listlessly all the time, we are bound to become walking zombies.

There are experiences which gives us bruises, few bruises become scar. And, these scars have stories. There is a thing about stories : Stories lose their magic when they are seen more than just a story [Watch the video above]. We have an innate tendency to look for signals in the sea of noise. This is what gives the scars a bad name. A scar visualised as a symbolic form of story-telling is what we all need. We don't need new lessons for our survival. We don't have to compare our scars to feel better about ourselves. Scars are no measures of personal achievement to be compared and gain happiness or for the matter to wallow in sadness.

Scars are just scars not to be healed or compared. They are just a doorway into the days of the yore, to quench your innate desire for nostalgia

A Giant Vermin

I want to cry. I want to cry and just want to be in that state.
I want to submerge myself in my own tears. I want to see myself drowning in it. I want to almost die.
I want to suffocate. I want to feel helpless & powerless. I want to crawl in my own worry-pool.
Only to be rescued by you. I want you to rescue me. I want you to take me out of that cesspool of misery & pessimism.
I want you to scold me. I want you to punish me. I want you to laugh at me. I want you to slap me red & blue.
I fucking have no clue as to how would you strangulate me. But strangulate me by all means. Hang me from the most decrepit tree. Shoot donkey shit at my dead face. Take pictures of it. Laugh at it. Then again bring my body back and shred it to pieces. Distribute it to millions of beetles.
Because that is who I am. A giant vermin. Someone who is a fucking insect with a human face and body of man.

I want you to absolve me from all this. I know only you have the power. You only can kick me where it hurts the most. Only you can put pepper spray on my wounds where it is most lethal.
I want to submit to only you. You are everything I think about. You are the reason I want to die. Because I know that you are subjected to a lot of suffering because of me.
I can't help it. I am helpless to the maximum. The level of grief inside me is venomous to all the people. But to you it is claustrophobic and inevitable. You have been going through this by no fault of yours. But I have accused you in my mind a million times. I had thought you have done this to me. I don't know what makes me think of that but now I feel I am stupid to live. Please grab by my neck and put my face in a shit-pit. Make me drink urea. Give me more wounds. Because I love your wounds. Because I love the pain inflicted by you.
Because I love the way you heal those wounds. Because I love you. I would always do that, till the last drop of my body fluid.