The most cruel of all despotisms rests in the oscillating state of our mind between what we believe to be good and bad. For our mind can inflict such nasty duress if we are caught at fault by our own measure of morality. Some have become total lunatics walking nude on the roads as madmen and some have ended their lives committing suicide - not been able to overcome the pressure.
While there is a general belief that morality is a totally relative measure, there ought to be a basic objective sense to it. For I am a firm believer of the beautiful blend that subjectivity and objectivity can generate. Such a thing is necessary for the world to truly progress. For - if there is no practical referendum, we would run into unwanted issues. Because the offenders would easily find an escape by presenting their suggestively bohemian tendencies - as their sweet intellectual excuse.
You would be baffled to listen to few of the stories that float in the city because of the yo-yo IT lifestyle. Hear it firsthand, it would be even more disconcerting. Debauchery is on the rise. The orgies of the mind tarnish the purity of thought. People are willing to experiment before any serious commitment and there are provisions to try out what is fantasized in the private. The moral decay has reached a point where we have learnt to say chills and okays to detestable acts of uncontrolled passion. May be we have gotten used to so much perversion that our minds have struck a sorry compromise - only to enable more decay.
Whatever be it, surprisingly goodness has still not reached its expiry. I was really ecstatic knowing how Mr.Satyarthi made us all proud last week. Trust me, there are so many nice people living their silent and modest lives - adding beauty to this world. We see simple deeds of kindness bringing smiles to the hearts of many. There is a group in Bangalore - that works to rescue girls taken into flesh trade. You should listen to the brave stories of those young girls and the way they were rescued. I know of a man who shared a note with me which reads as follows.
Dear Men.
Every woman deserves to be loved, not to be lusted after. Love doesn't mean that you need to straightaway try getting into relationships with every woman you see and that, it should end in biting each others lips and dirtying your bed. Do not add blemish to the repute of the real men the world still houses. There ought to be a basic sense of respect we need to show towards all women. Talk, do not flirt. Joke, do not hurt. Compliment, do not fantasize. Correct, do not judge. Help, do not make them indulge later. Be considerate. Be good. Be a man. Not just to those you know. But to everyone.
Every woman deserves to be loved, not to be lusted after. Love doesn't mean that you need to straightaway try getting into relationships with every woman you see and that, it should end in biting each others lips and dirtying your bed. Do not add blemish to the repute of the real men the world still houses. There ought to be a basic sense of respect we need to show towards all women. Talk, do not flirt. Joke, do not hurt. Compliment, do not fantasize. Correct, do not judge. Help, do not make them indulge later. Be considerate. Be good. Be a man. Not just to those you know. But to everyone.
Dear Women.
Think not - that every man is after your private parts. That wearing skimpy dresses would impress all men - more than sexually. But be sure that almost all men would fail the test of bed. So, be mindful of your steps. If there be an ugly past, do not allow yourself to be taunted by it. Let not your initial defloration provoke you to more promiscuity. Forgive yourself. Do not repeat the mistakes of your past. Be wise. Be happy.
They say, compassion is the basis of morality. So, let us love. Let us not dwell in the past and accuse, but forgive. Comfort. Console. Spread smiles. Feed the hungry. Light lives. Accept everyone into our fold with open arms. How else could we wage war against decadence which needs to be defeated and burnt to ashes! Let us fight. Fight, till we die that valiant death.
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