Art.

So bring on the rebels, the ripples from the pebbles, the painters, and poets and plays ๐Ÿ™‚

They dance to the rhythm,
Composed by a musician.
His beats and melodies,
Grooving to symphonies.
And then shamelessly go ahead
Bashing a learner, a newbie,
Putting it in his head,
That he’ll never be a
Beethoven or a Mozart.
But maybe all he needs,
Is to be himself. He is art.

Admiring paintings in exhibitions,
But making sure their kids face
The same pressure and competition
Art is not a way to sustain living,
They say.
They’re right.
Art isn’t a way to sustain living.
Art is a way of living.

The writers up at 3 A.M,
Battling their inner selves.
And then having to go through the pain
Of facing people, whose words are vain.
Because they buy all these bestsellers,
And then become these preachers,
Talking about their love for books,
And conveniently disrespecting
The one who wants to add one too.

And anyone with a camera,
Can make a movie, they claim.
A bit of a failure,
And everyone is ready to blame.
Hiding behind their popcorn,
They laugh and giggle and smile.
And absolutely forget to acknowledge
The efforts of the maker, all this while.

 

A/N: Love how, when you take a different career path, or take any choice which is not generic by societal standards, everyone is all set to offer free advice, and even try to convince you to change. Sometimes, when they don’t know what you’re talking about, they’ll ask you about it, and then use that limited information to convince you how unappealing whatever you’re into, is. There is struggle in any field, so why is it hard to accept that there is the same even in all these artsy fields? Moreover, why do we want to make choices with no struggle whatsoever? Why do we need to be handed everything in a platter?

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