It was ages ago that I read this thought-provoking quote somewhere:
“To err is human. If you err twice, you are a fool.”
But then, how do you know whether you made a mistake in the first place?
It is quite elementary. A wrong action always leaves behind a bitter feeling—a feeling you don’t want to experience again.
The human mind and body are wired to seek pleasure and avoid displeasure. No wonder most men have sex at least once every two days. And though one big meal is theoretically enough for survival, we eat three or four times a day—because eating gives us pleasure, and we want to keep repeating it.
Yet some people keep repeating the same mistakes over and over again, without being bold enough to acknowledge or address them. They keep accumulating negativity until it reaches a point where repercussions become inevitable—and, in many cases, catastrophic.
Very rarely have I come across certain people—most often belonging to the same caste/community—who try to challenge my intelligence subtly, without making the slightest attempt at provocation.
And if you confront them, they immediately back off, portraying your reaction as the problem.
“Hi… so what branch of astrology do you practise?”
It doesn’t matter whether they are complete strangers or people who know me through acquaintances. They throw the question at me as though I am fucking obliged to clarify.
Of course, I was naive once upon a time. I was still learning my life lessons. So I would proudly launch into an explanation, completely unaware that the motherfuckers had already laid the bait—and I had happily taken it.
Every single time, it left me with a bad feeling after the conversation.
And I would ask myself:
Why the fuck did you even open your mouth?
You could have ignored the question and spoken about Silk Smitha for 30 minutes instead. At least she would have been more interesting.
Because the person asking wasn’t genuinely interested in an answer.
So why ask?
It always comes from wannabe astrologers, people who have read a couple of books on astrology while travelling in those shitty Indian trains, or people who have collected bits and pieces from here and there—like donkeys that eat wall posters in India.
So now, I remember the lesson:
To err is human. To repeat is foolish.
And I question them back:
“So why do you ask?”
“Just curious.”
“Why the fuck are you curious?”
“Because I wanted to consult you.”
“So you ask a brain surgeon which scalpel he uses before deciding to consult him?”
And then finally comes the real answer:
“Well, I know this style of astrology, and I wanted to know what style you use.”
Motherfuckers.
If you already know astrology yourself, why the fuck are you getting in touch with me?
Find your fucking answers yourself.
Remember this: asking an author what pen he or she uses to write, or asking a photographer what camera they use, is an offensive question. It is like asking a woman whether she is a virgin when you have absolutely no interest in marrying her.
The question itself may sound innocent.
The intention behind it is what makes it offensive.
And if you approach people offensively, don’t expect kindness in return.