Chiquitita’s Sorrows

It is not always the villains out there that bring us our sorrows. Quite many of our sorrows are our own creations.

Back in the 1970s the illustrious pop group, ABBA, sang about Chiquitita’s sorrows. “You’re enchained by your own sorrow,” the song went. Chiquitita was always sure of herself. But now she is a broken person. The song counsels Chiquitita to accept life’s inevitable heartaches and the scars left by them. She should dance again as she used to do and the pain will end.

Chiquitita dear,

It aches my heart to see you depressed especially because you are a buoyant personality by nature. You liked to fly like the butterfly savouring the honey in each flower on the way. And you thought that you were entitled to all the honey in flowers. You seemed to assume that the flowers secreted honey just for you.

You were the centre of the universe in your own weltanschauung. Ah, that’s a big word I have used. I don’t like big words. But you do. You did, at least. You loved all the big things in life. Big words and big theories. They made you feel great. Live life queen-size was your motto. You were a queen, no doubt. People showed deference to you. Do you know why they did that, however? You deluded yourself into thinking that you were as great as you pretended to be and others granted you to be. It was just pretence both ways. Self-delusion on your part and condescension on theirs.

You were intelligent enough to know all that. Yet you chose to be blind to the reality. Rather, it was not your choice. You were rendered helpless by your self-loathing. You hated yourself for I know not what. You are intelligent, more so than most people I know. You are pretty and any man would turn his gaze once more to look at you. You sing like an impassioned rebel and dance like a whirling dervish. Yet you loathed yourself for I know not what.

You were discontented. With yourself and the world around you. You thought the other people as silly creatures who did nothing more than eat, mate, and sleep. You hated life for its inevitable filth. You couldn’t accept even the sweat and shit of human beings, let alone their greed and envy and lust and all that stuff which make up the creatures called homo sapiens. You held yourself and others in a divine contempt.

You thought you deserved to be a goddess.

Now you are a broken person. The bubble of greatness that you had blown up around you has crumbled. You see how commonplace a person you are. Just another Mary, Rita, or Samantha. You will learn to accept yourself, Chiquitita, dear, as you are. You will then see your real beauty. And you will love it too.

You will turn your attention from yourself to the world outside. You will admire the beauty of the flowers as they offer their honey to you in celestial chalices. You will add a new music to the caressing breeze and the rippling stream. You will sing once more like you never did before. Your new dance will mesmerise the best among the dervishes.

You have learnt to own your feelings. You have learnt not to blame others for whatever has happened though they all have their own roles in the catastrophe that befell you. It’s no use blaming others or even yourself. Blaming never achieves anything. You need to own up and take charge of yourself. Take responsibility for what has happened. And move on. Act and not regret. Sing and dance.

Your song doesn’t have to be perfect. Nor your dance. Let the song jar at times as it will. Let the dance wobble. Sing you must and dance you must. You are your song, Chiquitita. Your are your dance. How can you be not yourself?

 

PS. You can listen to ABBA’s Chiquitita song here.

 

PPS. This is powered by Blogchatter’s #BlogchatterA2Z Challenge.

Read the previous chapters of this endeavour:

A for Absurdity

B for Bandwagon Effect

Coming up on Monday: D for Delusions