The best country does not exist

With it’s citizens bullying those who doubt a country’s worth, I am affirmative that it’s no good of a choice to call it pro-liberty. Men and women who fail at contributing to the country even just by wearing a mask, often choose to support the fact that our soldiers might be fighting on our borders – risking their lives to save ours. These people who can’t even take wearing masks seriously, never really know the pain when they talk about any sacrifice this country came by to this date. It’s only their fondness in the idea of patriotism that makes them call someone anti-national but not their patriotism.

Voicing your opinion on a grave matter most probably requires a sense of time before becoming sound.

If at all this is the best country in the world, I don’t see the need to label it as one. Trust me, when someone does that, it usually means they are on the way to the label’s destination but never really conclusive about their claims. It only scares me to see the men of this country falling prey to the lies which actually sound very fantastic to even me. And, only men are falling prey to our leaders’ lies as I see women having very little to no voice mattering to the narrative. We are however getting there. But, the fight continues knowing nothing about what is it that we are fighting.

We are the best country in the world if it doesn’t matter to be one. I’d love to see every nation stop calling themselves one because the ones saying so are usually scared for their lives that they might be lying. Either that, or they are hiding the fact that they’ve failed already. If at all it matters to be a part of a good country, to be a good human – tell me there’s a different universe.

That being said, it’s better to have failure in our country being voiced than building an image like it’s a Photoshop battle on Reddit. Tell me if you win and correct me if you lose.


This article marks my 100th day continuously posting on WordPress. Thank you for reading my articles and motivating to keep me going. I feel like I’ve done something I only dreamt of. What I see for the future of this blog is for it to remain the same – I’ll try to write every day here about anything I find randomly taking up space in me. I hope you continue to be a part of this as well and we’ll reach the moon one day.

धन्यवाद | Thank you | Asante | Gracias | Благодаря ти | Dank u

Here are a few numbers (images below) for this year so far. It has been the best time I’ve ever spent on WordPress. On the Internet arguably. Maybe I can never stop blogging now. My activity started to be visibly high for the first time on this blog during April’s Daily Prompts challenge put up by editors at WordPress. It remains a solid background to keep me writing and posting my work.

Top countries with people viewing this blog
Thirty three thousand and six hundred words excluding this post

It gives me joy to see what I never would’ve realised without giving some kind of performance.

My first year
This year

These numbers mean nothing compared to the friendships I’ve made here. Made changes I never expected for the blog. Most importantly, kept creating when most of our world is busy complaining. And, there’s no harm in that either. I take pride in being self-obsessed about this one fact. Keep reading, keep looking 😀

P.S. I made a video edit recently using copyright-free content from Pexels. Have a look!

Read more from the blog:

Look at my artwork:

Me

I don’t like hating people. Here’s the thing, I generally don’t hate. But, when I do, it feels like my motive is absolutely right. And, that is something I have to deal with in a way I don’t understand.

Says a note signed “Me” on the canteen’s refrigerator.

This person mostly loves someone who is good to be ignored, if not hated. At college canteen, such notes are rare to find. The person writing them usually makes sure we know who wrote it and why.

That’s precisely why people stopped taking them seriously. Much like Facebook, but in real. I look around, eating my pie, and there she is, crying alone with her burger.

I don’t know why, but it felt like she was the one who wrote it. I did not want to judge a personality so real that she is crying in the crowd.

I walk up to her. Offer the remaining of what’s left on my plate. She does not respond. Gets up and walks away. Maybe she thinks I am the one who judged her for being real.

But, it’s not me.