Mr. Right could never do anything wrong. He saw to it that even his wrongdoings left an indelible expression of honesty and statesmanship when they were anything but that. Mr. Wrong on the other hand tried with his full brute force to turn the tide in his favor and erase whatever impressions his intentions had on his peers. His actions were of no avail, no matter what he did he invariably turned up to be the culprit behind the pettiest of crimes. While his shortcomings were largely talked about his acts of honesty were left for oblivion. He had to bear the brunt of his past deeds and carry it to hell with him.
Repentance is a word much talked about, little does it seem that Forgiveness complements the R-man and he cant go anywhere without the shadows of his past tracing his present and outlining his future for him.
Mr. Wrong was haunted by his past. Mr. Right reveled in it. Who cared for the present? Track records are what matters in this increasingly skeptical world. It didn’t matter whether the Right one was in fact the one who had made all the wrong choices and yet had finally ended up with all the right innuendoes. We hear it all the time-“Life isn’t fair”. Was it fair for Mr. W to constantly carry the burdens of his name and for Mr. R to shamelessly use it to further his own agenda?
Much as we would like to condemn it we love to see a man fall. We believe it to be natural for a man to come back full circle, after all that’s what the nature has taught us, going back to the woods. We raise the platform to levels that would seem in-conquerable to some and yet when time comes WE provide the elevator to individuals who have had the misfortune to be brilliant to ascend the throne only to be dethroned with alacrity and utmost vehemence. We revel in the notion that a one-time hero is now rotting in hell and lose no precious time in condemning the man.
Sadistic pleasures are not so uncommon it seems even though sadism is hip and cool.
The rat race it seems sketches the distraught condition of the modern man. Running frantically with pieces flying by is an obsession many carry with them all the way to their grave. Yes, things like this are discussed amongst the intelligentsia who have nothing else left to do and who have had the misfortune of lacking the street-smartness that these long distance runners seem to embody. Yet, one cannot help but wonder the futility of it all.
We seek comfort in the appreciation of our fellowmen. The rebels or the so called neo-thinkers adopt a nonchalant attitude to the hypocrisies surrounding the materialistic world and denounce them with all their heart. Yet, all they do is segregate themselves from the classicists and run a much shortened and concise version of the same race. We are all on the same road. The Road to Perdition?
On the Highway under the stars I tried to segregate them all
I tried to discern the wonder of it all I tried to make sense of it all
Cars flew by like shooting stars gigantic lavish big and small
None steered my way, not one stopped by to answer my call.
To their eyes I was a speck in the crowd
To them I was nothing but a shimmering cloud
I was in their way they had this clue
I was a shadow in their glimmering hue.