Spoiler alert: the poetry of the masters does not feature in this post. Instead it’s me, myself and a few words written way past midnight.
I first encountered individualism when I got acquainted with Howard Roark. The queen of individualism, Ayn Rand was definitely one of the many writers I held close to my heart as a young girl just starting college.
An individual’s opinions, their choices and their struggles are unique, although subjective and yet a fundamental right in my view.
Yet within our circle of family and friends we look for similarities. It gives us assurance that we aren’t bad, weird, or an anomaly. Or may be a sense of pride that our tribe grows, that feeling that we are a powerful force and bask in that feeling of oneness.
As a parent we wish to see our chaavi, our reflection in our offspring. We hope they have the same desires like we did and we hope that they fulfill them even if we didn’t. Even the most progressive parent sometimes finds themselves wishing…..
But can there be a complete another just like you…..? Or even better than you, ala version 2.0. And are we often disappointed when they are not?
That is a mystery unsolved.
Celebrating uniqueness and individualism with these words….. Inspired by some fiercely independent individuals I know. People who bask in being different in quiet ways, by simply being themselves.
Har us khwaaab mein ek woh chamakta sitara ho,
Jo har ek sitare se alag aur ajeeb ho,
Tumhara ek ankh ho, ek tumhari chaya ho,
Usme ham jesi anokhi ek chahat ho.
Leken tum alag si chahat ho,
jis ka na koi saccha aaina hai,
Na koi tum jaisa koi kalakaar hai,
Agar tum ho toh Uski wajah sirf ek hai,
Tumhari wajood ki haqeeqat ek paheli hai,
Jis ka raaz sirf unhi ko pata hai.
Jisse pehle kisi unkahi,unsuni poorani kahani mein mulakaat huyi hai
You wish in your dream of a sparkling star,
Different and distinctive that all the other stars around,
That is a small part of you, that is a reflection of you,
And that in it lie desires just like your desires.
But you are a unique desire,
One that is captured by no true mirror.
There is no star that is a performer like you.
You are you.
And the only reason for that,
Is that the reality of your existence is a riddle,
Whose secret is known only by those who you have encountered in an old unheard and untold story before.
I found this lovely poem of Rumi recited by Tilda Swinton….. Like this.
I simply love it…