A Human’s Rant
The season of autumn is peculiar in nature which results in the author’s ranting. Read this story to know more.
By Kavya Nallabrolu | Illustration Kavya Nallabrolu
I notice it’s raining less this month than last. I notice the clomping sound of my footsteps has a crispy undertone as I step on brown fallen leaves. I notice as those leaves gently break under my feet, completing their life cycle. I notice the sunrise and sunset are more orange than before. I notice, as we bid the monsoon a hearty goodbye and autumn takes its place, in the anticipation of winter.
When I put it in those words, it sounds very romantic. Here’s what happens in actuality: It rains at the most awkward hours, so often I find myself coming home drenched, cold, and irritated. The fallen leaves are dead, and I walk all over them with no regret. The sun, oh the stupid sun, sometimes shines so hot that it pricks my skin and then suddenly decides it’s shy and wants to retreat behind the clouds. Then it starts raining randomly, it gets unseemly cold, and I am irritated all over again. I can firmly say that I don’t like autumn. It’s stuck in the middle. I mean, pick a lane!
I do realise it is silly to be mad at a season, something I have no control over, and I am fully aware that I can’t control everything, but how am I supposed to live with that? Once an individual spends a good amount of time trying to find some objective purpose for being here, they end up disappointed by their findings. The world makes no sense, none, zilch, zero.
Now, I was brought up on stories from the Ramayana and Mahabharata. Each story ended with the same moral: the bad will get what they truly deserve, and the good will be rewarded for their karmas. Then why do horrible things happen to good people? Why do good people suffer the tortures of their own mind and others? Why is there poverty? Why is there war? Why do humans hurt each other? Why do humans hurt other species? Why are we not kind to ourselves? Why do we let ourselves off the hook so easily? And why do we feel so entitled that we have the audacity to be rude to other human beings? There is so much malice in humans, are we all, just, supposed to be okay with that?
I don’t think we are, but we are supposed to accept it. We don’t even have control over the weather, let alone the entire human race and its behaviour. Life is unfair, arbitrary, and open to interpretation, just like art. Not accepting its reality causes us a lot of harm. There may not be any explanation for our unjust world but choosing to live regardless is the deepest expression of our genuine freedom. And I am fully aware that this is a privilege rant. More often than not, I tend to write a very positive, hopeful, and perfect ending to my articles. Usually, I tie them up in a nice, neat bow, but this time I won’t do that. Instead, in the name of an imperfect word and in the acceptance of it, I decide to leave this sentence in the mid…
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