Why is the grass always greener on the other side?

Not very long ago, I came across this beautiful line penned by economic psychologists, Daniel Kahneman and Amos Tversky:

"A person who has not made peace with his losses is likely to accept gambles that would be unacceptable to him otherwise."

We are all a product of the choices we make. Except for the fact that we cannot choose where we are born or the first few years of our life when our parents decide what is best for us, we almost always have a platter of choices, sometimes more and as many of us would crib, mostly less.

You can satisfy your wanderlust or you can just settle down and do domestic chores. You can choose to be the "careerist" woman you always wanted to be or you can douse all those dreams and be a homemaker (which is even more difficult, actually). You could just find a cozy corner and read that book from where you left it last or you could just shelf it in that cupboard of yours to read it some other day (a day that will hardly ever come). You could comfortably sit back and gradually sip that cup of tea and think about nothing in particular, or you could steal a few sips while you cook, dry clothes, clean the house and check emails (all at the same time). Choosing is indeed a very difficult task. And ironically you just want the opposite of what you choose. 

For those who follow their heart, life may turn out to be a bit difficult in the beginning. People around would prefix/suffix their name with a lot of adjectives like egoist, careerist, insane, proud, loner. Frankly they must be none of these. They are just "different". They are different because they chose to follow their heart and not the general public aspirations. They are not ruffled by the petty speculations because they have a greater vision. They are more focused because they have a strong internal locus of control and they work on themselves to attain perfection. 

It leaves me to wonder what a duplicate society we are. We would appreciate it greatly when the protagonist denies to take dowry in a movie, but in real life we would crave for that pot of gold to arrive from the bride's side. The icing on the cake begins when someone in our neighborhood gets handsomely gifted on the occasion of his marriage. 

Is it because of an identity crisis that the grass always appears greener on the other side? Maybe that would be the biggest contributing factor.

Soul on a Rack

A Rack is also defined as "An instrument of torture on which the victim's body was stretched" I came across this usage of the word for the first time ever long ago during a literature course that had Merchant of Venice by William Shakespeare as a compulsory read. I could only imagine what the victim felt like when his tendons snapped and bones and skin gave away. The amount of physical pain that he would be undergoing in such a circumstance. His pleadings to the executioner to just take his life away and spare him the pain. His prayers to God to release him from that pain. The multiple thoughts he would be undergoing just to keep that pain out of his mind. What all and what not must he be think. Or could he even think of anything at that time? Hell No!

I stumbled upon the process once again when I was watching the movie "Braveheart". Mel Gibson essays the role of William Wallace the revolutionary 13th Century Scottish warrior who led the Scottish army in their first war for independence from the tyrannical  British rule. He met his death on the Rack, which was one of the cruelest form of punishment at that time.

That was the physical part of it. The person is dead and the pain is gone. Most of them were forgotten and some became immortal. But there are many of us out there whose souls are stretched on a rack, day in and day out. And trust me there is no panacea for it except maybe some would suggest meditation and most commonly suggest to "let go". But then how easy is it to let go? Many a times one would find out to one's sheer dismay, that those memories that we never want to remember, gnaw at our existence like a perennial parasite making us never forget them. 

Human mind is tuned to adjust. Some take a longer duration and some take a shorter one. And obviously in the process they must forget what they stood ever for. They efface the memories, the laughter, the squabbles, the sweet making ups, the love, the care and the warmth. Perhaps, that is what is let go. All that remains is the pain and the associated nausea. And that becomes the substance for one's existence.