Skip to main content

Insulted?

I'm usually in an upbeat mood on Fridays. Not this time.

I've taken great pains to see to it that no one is hurt by my outspoken posts. Sure enough, I've had to cut down heavily on the posts I would have otherwise published. Unfortunately, there's only so much I can do.

Some folks have now taken offence to a recent post of mine. Really, I've been taken aback by their disposition towards something that wouldn't be deemed even remotely offensive by sensible people. I wonder by what stretch of imagination have these folks become so upset by the message that wasn't meant to be anything more than a friendly joke.

What's worse is that these guys couldn't even dare to confront me on the issue that's ostensibly bugging them no end. Instead, they cribbed about it and exhibited their gaping wounds to someone else in the high hopes that news would seep in and I would take pity on their tender selves! The biggest problem with these guys is their limited understanding of the English language. Having lacked a decent learning, they often take things at face value. Very egregious.

Folks, wake up and broaden your horizon. Look beyond the limited confines of your lives and try to assimilate a diversity of opinion. And learn to take a joke sportingly when you come across one. Until that happens, I would be grateful if you could give my blog a miss. It's really a humiliation having semi-literate and narrow-minded people going through it.

Comments

Vivek said…
What? Who? When? Why?
Deepanjan said…
Nothing serious, yaar!
Just the occasional flare up when I'm unable to contain myself.

Popular posts from this blog

This is what Bertrand Russell said about religion...

Religion is based, I think, primarily and mainly upon fear. It is partly the terror of the unknown and partly, as I have said, the wish to feel that you have a kind of elder brother who will stand by you in all your troubles and disputes. ... A good world needs knowledge, kindliness, and courage; it does not need a regretful hankering after the past or a fettering of the free intelligence by the words uttered long ago by ignorant men.

The year that was

I'm wearing a rather striking shirt, one that makes me feel like a clown fooling around in a graveyard. Roving eyes latch on to me and make me too conscious of myself. Checkered in red, grey, black and maroon, I've excused myself into donning it and looking silly for two reasons. It's Friday and…more importantly, the last working day of the year. Tailored half-a-year back, I never had the courage to wear it, not until today. It's that time of the year when it's time to reflect on the events that transpired. Last year ended on the worst possible note. Dad had expired and I was numb with shock. The repercussions rippled halfway thought this year. Things were so abysmal initially that I had lost the will to live. Acrid in everything I did, I was immensely angered by time phlegmatically flowing through its cadence. It was as if Dad meant nothing to anybody. What right did people have to live the way they always had when Dad was no more? Why was much of the world still