Steven works nine to five, across the street is his one time favourite men’s shop, the one that littered the boards with advert shades of skinny oval faced ladies dragging men’s ties. Mark Crook was the man of the people, on Fridays, the shop had the habit of showing his ruffled hair, smart, no not smart, washed out smirk face that told lies of a business scam. You see, Mark is Steven’s boss and he tops him up with coffee at the office every morning from the coffee shop near the men’s.

Such morning when it looked like there was a party in the sky and umbrellas found their steel wings to knock out people’s heads, Steve went to this coffee shop. And in about a second and half of a milli, was down on the cold floor, eyes popping in their sockets, mouth ajar as a silent Oh formed his lips, the last he saw was a man with a shiny head brandishing a gun that was now making him gone.

“You failed, you we’re supposed to kill the waitress. She has seen too much already”

Mark seated on his fine mahogany table took a long look at his supposed hit man. He had a way of picking at his side hair. Mr hit man’s reply came in with a stutter. Nerves wrecking, splitting earlobes, a pouncing headache; all Mark could acclaim annoying. He threw a jug at him and missed.

 “That assistant of yours gave himself the bullets damnit!” He cried.

Oh yea he did. Why?
 So two nights in a roll down Drift lane hotel, laid on the fine satin sheets singing hymns and lullaby in between, is the waitress and Mark.
 So wait, Steven sacrificed his life for a waitress he didn’t know?

Or Steven gave his life up to save a waitress who slapped body with his boss, the one that sent the stutter guy?

Perhaps he gave his life because the waitress was his wife, the only surviving child of her aged mother, the mother of his little boy. And he didn‘t know after his demise his son would be kidnapped and the only way to save him, to get help was to lie on satin sheets.

And somehow, waitress would fall for the rich Mark, waitress would not know he was the perpetrator of kills and kidnap.

The subject of sacrifice is debatable and over rated like karma. Somewhere on the shores of a white background, there comes scribbles from someone’s thoughts about karma that i read the other day. Twitter is a home of senseless and sense. I  would talk about Facebook another day, don’t I tire on that one? So if karma is not even  absolute, what is his brother sacrifice doing then? And if the concept of it isn’t far fetched, such that evil/bad and good can go unrewarded, why are we still talking about sacrifice?

I don’t understand the depths of sacrifice that lies in people’s hearts. Yes, I understand that what they call sacrifice is actually an unfolding of selfish desires. Can we truly sacrifice without lifting a finger of benefit? You do this for me and I’ll do this for you.

Perhaps everyone should sit on the shores of aloneness and forget about sacrifice, after all, the good you do may go unrewarded, the bad you hide to do may also spread wings and fly away.  karma isn’t paying attention anyway, it went on long term break.
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Because if karma were truly around often, then sacrifice would have a meaningful basis and we can call on it to be in everyone’s heart. I would say it is nobody’s fault that the heart is interwoven with the wails and woes of today’s world such that everyone forgets everyone. But is that ever enough a reason? Last I checked, the garnish from your heart and a lift from your soul can actually make a difference however little. But that is not the case, you are either under somebody’s net or off their hook. And that is where the problem is. We forget that building connections is really about fishing and taking them home, not making a fire of it by the sea. Through the washes, boils and fries, somehow, they become a part of you. You are not supposed to put people under the net or off the hook, they should be in and around the net.

An embrace is enough sacrifice in purposefulness. Enough of the eye witnessing that births a wriggling nose, people don’t need you to just walk by them but to walk into their lives. I am tired of the do me I do you track song, the beckoning face that calls for a plea just because you need something from me at the moment is a deceit. Switch it off. Don’t write on the blackboard about time and issues of life, we already have them staring at us in our textbooks. If I cut out just a tiny piece of myself or more and feed you with because you are starved to death, because I must always watch out for you. How much more should you do the same?

If I am surrounded by thorns of associative flesh and somehow I saw a little plant growing from one corner, should I kill it, ignore or help it? And if one thorn arise from my corners choking in its own roots, would I not embrace it to set it free? So if I could do this for it, what stops me from extending my hand to the plant?

Is walking on hot coals to get a million dollars convenient? No, sacrifice is not meant to be convenient but you still try to walk on the coals anyway.

So if one cannot squeeze even a little of inconvenience for the convenience of another or persons who in one way or the other have had shots at inconvenience for your comfort or concern, then I can truly say karma is not a bitch like they say, The bitch is in the heart and karma is just a cover slam.

In today’s world, What goes around stays around. Good, bad. All stays around you.

Maybe, when we realise, together we can do so much and not just alone, sacrifice will make sense once again.

But no, the concept of sacrifice is long gone, just a small weight on a few. And no matter how hard I try, I realised karma isn’t coming back. And because it won’t, sacrifice is already lost.

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  1. there is a general conception of karma, but what we term as it is largely personal, and yes you cannot remove the self from acts however seemingly benevolent…. but still we cannot give ourselves up to meaningless acts, satisfaction of helping is in itself karma of it own. Perhaps Karma is indeed far fetched…and the ubiquitous understanding of it is the issue.

  2. Dhee Sylvester

    A man dying for the woman he loves isn’t sacrifice. That’s what I think. Because he isn’t dying for her because of her, but because he would rather not lose her. Meaning it’s more about him and less about her. It’s this individual interest that makes such death a self-fulling act instead of an heroic deed as some would like to spin it. And I believe that whatever is self-fulling is better regarded as a service to oneself rather than a sacrifice to any individual. On this basis, I would say it’s fairly appropriate to consider the society’s concept of sacrifice as a fallacy. As for karma, I won’t say too much about it as I don’t even believe in it. Bad things happen to us not because of the bad things we did or have done, but because bad things happen to everyone irrespective of who or what they are.

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