Tuesday, June 10, 2014


Hope. The most over-rated word. From the very beginning, we are taught that hope is a nice thing. That 'giving up on hope is like giving up on life'. That 'when we have nothing, we have hope'. We cannot be farther from the truth.

Hope is nothing but a chain, a shackle that prevents us from moving ahead, moving on.
But then hope comes naturally.. It survives the biggest blows, it thrives on the slightest chance, and before you know it, hope becomes the foundation of your actions. Most times, you take its support, hold its welcoming hand, depend on it.
Only sometimes, you have the better judgement not to lean on it. Only sometimes you see that hope engulfs you in a comfortable cocoon, while crushing your strength from within. Only sometimes you see that hope is precisely what one shouldn't have when one has nothing.

So what do you do when hope refuses to die?

You locate the mean little bastard; you chop off whatever tentacles it has spread around your self-respect; you move out from the blinding light that has blocked your pragmatism...and you get rid of it.

You bludgeon it to death.

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