Write 500 words on incorrigibility. They must feature the line "You know that I'm no good". It can be funny, mean or painful like Amy here.
Tagging Paromita Vohra, Mathangi Krish, Gouri Dange, Veena Mani, Sneha Annavarapu
Tagging Paromita Vohra, Mathangi Krish, Gouri Dange, Veena Mani, Sneha Annavarapu
I am sorely tempted to write about the incorrigibility of the damn pigeons who insist on strutting their stuff on my balconies. And then I think that for once, even the saale kabootar deserve a break. So…
It is almost 4.50 p.m., and my deadline is 5.30. Submitting homework at the last possible minute seems to be an incorrigible trait of mine, even at this mature age. My ‘teachers’ are kind, there is no punishment, and I love my daily assignments, but still… Homework is completed only under pressure.
You know that I’m no good, I’m like this only, I’m terrible, lazy, stupid etc. are truly statements of despair, of not having the will or the confidence to change. An unfathomable desire to be accepted, warts and all. To be told that no, you are lovable just as you are. To want the moon, knowing fully well the futility of that wanting.
Is love rational? It seems to be the most incorrigible of emotions, wanting, often what isn’t possible. And not wanting to give up on its impossible dreams. It can, in theory, accept the impossibility of those dreams, but, being the incorrigible beast it is, refuses to accept this fact.
Bigotry is another incorrigible creature, hydra headed, springing up unbidden and unasked. Its roots lie deep within, and it knows no rationale.
We try to tame the beautiful wildness of our children, but a time comes when the veneer comes off, and the underlying rage and incorrigible anger emerges at those very same people who were once loved and idolized. Perhaps that shedding of the chrysalis is an inevitable part of human growth. If you are lucky, a new love develops, and a peaceful new veneer, until the next eruption. Perhaps that is why children and parents need spaces in their togetherness, after a certain point of growth.
To accept certain traits as incorrigible, and then learn to ignore them, is, perhaps, maturity. If there is true love and acceptance, a wet towel on the bed should not lead to eruptions, but it so often does, because both parties in the equation have traits that spark reactions from the other. To accept that those incorrigible, annoying habits are just that, not traits that can derail the relationship, is, perhaps, maturity. Maybe it’s just fatigue. (Or battle fatigue).
Is anyone truly incorrigible? (Apart from the Amitabh Bachchan character is Baghban, who is repeatedly told by his simpering wife (Hema Malini) “Tum nahin sudhrogey.”) There are some, of course, whose life circumstances or inborn nature make it impossible for them to change. Most people, however, do change, often for the better, as they grow. Many parents of grown up children are utterly shocked by the extremely liberal attitudes their own parents have towards their grandchildren. The same parent who was a die-hard conservative becomes the grandchild’s best friend and confidante. Time changes everyone and everything. Perhaps there is nothing and no one who is actually incorrigible. Except for those damn pigeons.
It is almost 4.50 p.m., and my deadline is 5.30. Submitting homework at the last possible minute seems to be an incorrigible trait of mine, even at this mature age. My ‘teachers’ are kind, there is no punishment, and I love my daily assignments, but still… Homework is completed only under pressure.
You know that I’m no good, I’m like this only, I’m terrible, lazy, stupid etc. are truly statements of despair, of not having the will or the confidence to change. An unfathomable desire to be accepted, warts and all. To be told that no, you are lovable just as you are. To want the moon, knowing fully well the futility of that wanting.
Is love rational? It seems to be the most incorrigible of emotions, wanting, often what isn’t possible. And not wanting to give up on its impossible dreams. It can, in theory, accept the impossibility of those dreams, but, being the incorrigible beast it is, refuses to accept this fact.
Bigotry is another incorrigible creature, hydra headed, springing up unbidden and unasked. Its roots lie deep within, and it knows no rationale.
We try to tame the beautiful wildness of our children, but a time comes when the veneer comes off, and the underlying rage and incorrigible anger emerges at those very same people who were once loved and idolized. Perhaps that shedding of the chrysalis is an inevitable part of human growth. If you are lucky, a new love develops, and a peaceful new veneer, until the next eruption. Perhaps that is why children and parents need spaces in their togetherness, after a certain point of growth.
To accept certain traits as incorrigible, and then learn to ignore them, is, perhaps, maturity. If there is true love and acceptance, a wet towel on the bed should not lead to eruptions, but it so often does, because both parties in the equation have traits that spark reactions from the other. To accept that those incorrigible, annoying habits are just that, not traits that can derail the relationship, is, perhaps, maturity. Maybe it’s just fatigue. (Or battle fatigue).
Is anyone truly incorrigible? (Apart from the Amitabh Bachchan character is Baghban, who is repeatedly told by his simpering wife (Hema Malini) “Tum nahin sudhrogey.”) There are some, of course, whose life circumstances or inborn nature make it impossible for them to change. Most people, however, do change, often for the better, as they grow. Many parents of grown up children are utterly shocked by the extremely liberal attitudes their own parents have towards their grandchildren. The same parent who was a die-hard conservative becomes the grandchild’s best friend and confidante. Time changes everyone and everything. Perhaps there is nothing and no one who is actually incorrigible. Except for those damn pigeons.
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