The madness of Normalcy

Principles. They are sad, scary things. The human mind is programmed in a such a way that it appalls a fellow's principles. For example: Tell your friend that "as a principle", you do not eat at KFC because of all that chicken cruelty and whatever going on, I will bet a hundred bucks that he's gonna lecture you shit for another twenty minutes that you are eating a dead chicken, doesn't matter if its tortured or not. He can't stand you or your principles. Its true. I don't know why. Sometimes, its out of sheer boredom, sometimes its because that annoying friend of yours can't keep his mouth shut, but most of the times, as a principle, everyone hates, despises, is scared of and will do anything to let another live with his principles. Why? Because people are normal.

Normal means different things. When I call someone normal, they are the ones who seem to me like they have figured everything out in life. They seem to know they'll have a smooth transition and they are definitely the ones who'll all have a discussion over cold coffee, cold because the canteen guy refuses to reheat the milk, and conclude that I'm mad. I just smile at them and say, "Yes, I am"

Normal itself is insane. I don't understand what normal means anymore. There was a time in life, where everything around was spookily crazy and I wanted things to be normal. I think the "normal" that I wanted is there right now, but now I crave for madness, some kind of madness that leads me somewhere. I need madness to drive me. I don't want normal anymore. Like they say, the grass is always greener on the other side, but if you never get to the other side, how will you even know the comparison between the two greens? If the guy who made up this saying never crossed over, there would be only one shade of green. No light green, dark green, bottle green, parrot green, goo green, poop green etc etc. Imagine, a world without greens, no one would want that. I wouldn't. I need the madness, I need to discover another shade of green.

I think one section of the so-called normalcy belongs to people who are descendants of a special genome of parasites that lived not-so-long-ago, one generation ago. These parasites don't have a life of their own and they try to suck others' out too. The principle-attackers are one such group, the other group belongs to this prospective groom that my friend met last weekend. He asked her what her expectations are, and like any other normal person that belongs to another section of normal, she just shrugged. So this guy started his list. I work, so I expect her to work, I don't eat Non-veg, so I expect her not to eat, I take bath twice a day, so I expect her to do it, the list went on and on, but thankfully my friend escaped before the inevitable, "I pee standing up, so expect her to do the same". I think I'd rather be mad than belong to this section of normal people.

There is one more section of normal people in Bangalore who "complete their engineering and get a job in good MNC, get married and settle in life". Yes, this is one normal section I'm supposed to belong to. There is another face to these normal people. They hate their jobs, they hate their bosses, they sit and sulk inside while maintaining a plastered happy face outside, and they are eternally ready with a bucket in their free hand, the one that's not slapping their own faces, and one step behind their superiors, so that at the "opportune" moment, they are ready for a stinky discharge. In an alternate universe where Gotham city exists, they all can be the "Jokers", they have a thousand motives for a sadistic life, but so many Jokers can dissolve the brand of its integrity. That's why they shut up and try to be normal. I think I'd rather be mad, than try to concoct an alternate universe.

In my dysfunctional family, its normal for girls to get married at 20 and boys at twenty three. They are considered assets and the younger they are, the more benefits they reap. That's full blown pycho, isn't it? But here in my family, its normal and hence, they call me mad. Now that I think about it, I'd gladly be called that while writing this peacefully, rather than be called normal, and be writing this while a three-year old poops all around the house.

I am supposed to write something funny, right? Usually, I try my best to put a joke or two, and drag it till the very end, so that I can never reuse it for more laughs, but today I cannot come up with a single joke. Think of your own. I have an intolerable philosophical side and that has burst out of the seams today. I am forcing myself not to publish this post, but I don't think I can. I have absolutely no material and my pageviews are drastically down. If you don't want to read this, just keep on opening and closing my blog. Nurse my bruised ego, consider it a form of wheelchair charity. When you can drive that Kony guy out of Uganda by clicking on your degenerate keyboard, you can do this too.

Moral of the story: When any one calls you mad, just smile. When anyone calls you normal, smile and call them worse names.