My Nonsenses is the Most Sensible

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Everyone around me seems insane, while I am the only sane one, the only saint! Whatever I do is the right way; whatever you do is senseless, meaningless, illogical.

I smoke in my room, filling it with smoke, and if my family members are disturbed, that’s their problem. Tell me, if I can’t live my life and smoke in my own room, where on earth should I go?

If the smoke drifts out of the window and bothers others, that’s their problem. After all, it’s my money, my cigarette, my lungs, my room. Who are you to tell me what’s right and what’s wrong?

I have pets at home; some bark, some meow, some chirp, and some hiss. It’s their nature. I like pets. They don’t have any problem with me, and I don’t have any problem with them. If my neighbors are disturbed, that’s their problem. Who are they to tell me whether I should have children or pets, and how many? If they don’t know how to tolerate neighbors or love pets, what can I teach them? They are overly sensitive, touchy, and mad.

If I have a party at home, I drink, my friends drink, we watch television at full volume, and we dance and scream. If my neighbors are getting disturbed, that’s their problem. After all, it’s my house. Where else should I go to live, enjoy, and have fun? If I can’t invite my friends home, should I invite them to my neighbor’s house?

It’s my house, and I want to fill it with objects that interest me. If it gets so full that my family struggles to navigate through it, and if they break objects or hurt themselves, that’s their problem. They’re blind to the beauty around them; sometimes they break their bodies, other times they break the objects.

It’s my office, my seat, and I’m the boss—or I have a boss. Either way, we decide everything here: what will happen, when it will happen, and what will not happen. You can’t pressure me. If you’re in a hurry, and you arrived late, you’ll have to wait. Your urgency doesn’t matter; you can’t force me.

It’s our temple, it’s our mosque, and we will do whatever we want. If you’re getting disturbed, that’s your problem. You can go somewhere else or tolerate us. I sing the Arti or make mosque announcements five times a day at full volume. After all, if we can’t practice our religion as prescribed, where should we go? And remember, my constitution gives me the freedom to follow the religion of my choice.

He is my son, she is my daughter, he is my husband, she is my wife. I can do whatever I want with my family members. If you’re disturbed because they’re screaming, being abused, or not receiving enough food or comfort, that’s not your problem. Who are you to interfere in my life?

It’s my house, and I keep my footwear outside because they smell. Whether I wash them or not is my decision. If their bad smell or improper arrangement disturbs my neighbor, that’s not my business.

Only what I do is universally good, and only the road I travel, prescribed by my ancestors, is valid.

There is no room for discussion or debate. If you open your mouth, I will shut you down because I am wiser, mightier, richer, and more resourceful. If you beat me, I know very well how to play the victim!

O Chaitanya! We live in this kind of world.
Ask yourself: If you can witness all this drama with equanimity, without getting perturbed, then are you the sane one, or is the world around you insane?

Hari Om Tat Sat
Yours Truly Hari