By Dhruva Mathur
Life and Love,
Both appetite’s insatiable.
Success and Failure,
Seem like nights of half-moon.
Twilight of life,
Brings memories bearable and not.
A journey to life,
Incomplete without mesmerisers.
False praise and love,
Praise and applauds,
Like perfumes not drinks.
Trap of the mesmeriser,
Longs for bait.
Foolishly long fall,
Fallen by all.
Recovery for those,
Who have control.
Author note: Words like Uneededly and Mesmerisement though are incorrect by nature, however, the usage of these words conveys the meaning. This poetry talks about the instinct of each human to bathe themselves with praise. Is the satisfaction of success greater or is the praise garnered greater?
The quest to be praised is reinforced by the insatiable human hunger for life and love. So engrossed are individuals in the success garnered from a feat that they tend to forget the half-moonish nature of success. It doesn’t happen always. It takes a lot of time to achieve.
On the deathbed, a human is reminded of memories lived. They are both bearable and unbearable. Thought during the lifetime, these unbearables are locked in some part of the brain, towards the end as the revaluation begins, all must be unearthed. Majority of these unbearable memories have somehow been caused by mesmerisers (those who always want to become like you and praise you for every deed of yours).
Despite the necessary nature of praise and love, it is many a times falsified and an individual is made to believe that he is loved. This is mostly done by those who till recently did not even give the individual a second glance. Such short-sightedness results in real friends (people who have known you from long before) becoming alienated and moving out of the person’s life. They are the ones who maintain a check on the destructive instincts of human beings.
So engrossed in all this is the individual, that they forget that praise and applauds are not the entire world. Ends must be achieved by working for them. And the joy of having attained them must be greater than the joy of having attained them on your own. Thus praise is a perfume that must be sprinkled and not drunk.
All individuals at one point of time or another fall into the trap of enjoying this praise. Only those can come back who know that something has gone wrong, though all realise this at some point of time or the other, but not all are able to maintain the control to recover.