Tomichan Matheikal's blog

'I don't like meeting people,' I explained when a friend asked why I showed little interest in meeting him after a long period. People are clichés wherever you go.  They keep repeating themselves.  The repetition may take slightly different avatars.  Some do it in the name of the Christ, some others in Krishna's. Or Allah's. Or some Baba or other fraud. Fraud is a perpetual cliche from which mankind has no salvation, my friend said. Your problem is that you looked for salvation from them. Silly romantic dreamer! He laughed. So I am a fraud too? I asked. Living in an illusion! Aren't all people doing just that?  Living in one illusion or another? In perceived paradises?  Maybe paradise of wealth, power, positions, Babadom, kingdom of heaven... Clichés.  What else? Solitude is my cliché, I said. You are a cliché trying to run away from other clichés, he said.

“There is no good and evil, there is only power and those too weak to seek it.”  ―  J.K. Rowling ,  Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone Examine history and we will be amazed by enormity of the evil that man has inflicted upon his fellow creatures mostly in the name of gods and creeds.  A lot of good people perished being labelled as heretics and witches.  Thousands of innocent people have died and continue to do so to please the gods of fanatics and radicals. The Pope has apologised for his Church's inhuman attitude towards homosexuals.  Pope John Paul II had made quite a number of apologies .  Most religions will have infinite sins to atone for if they are willing to undertake an honest introspection. And yet religion is about goodness, compassion, and what not?  That's what we have been told at least. The plain truth is that religion, like most other man-made institutions, is about power. If you have power, what you do is right and good!  Rather, it's not

'I hate plastic flowers,' said Raj. 'But they smell better than the original flowers,' said Mohan, the host. 'No smell at all.' Mohan brought a canister and sprayed perfume on the flowers. Plastic perfume suffused the air. Then the priest came and blessed the perfume. And everything was OK. Gods and their priests make everything OK. Plastic.