Hello there. I am Ambika. I live in this world. I exist taking my space, yet have some doubts about my existence. I am alive. I want to be. But am I sure? What is my base for being alive? Being happy. And where? In my life. But am I satisfied totally? What do I want now? What all did I get? Do I have all merry memories or any deep thoughts, regrets? I have to be strong here, stronger than I want to be.Why? It’s dangerous because it’s life. I am afraid, I will make more mistakes if I don’t fear. World our humble abode. And now how much humble, to what degrees, really? In this sarcastic mockery called life, you are a born fighter, whether or not you want to be. It’s your basic or primary choose. Taking an easy example, the unborn is a real merry being because he is sitting there in the deep cozy shelter of his mother, the only person in the whole world whom he can wholeheartedly trust. Her womb is his heaven. He feels no emotional imbalance, no, none. Here he is there, with only the love of his mother, the love of God and the darkness beyond which lies a difficult world. When he comes out he is innocently happy, but why? It’s his pretty emotion. Let he keep it to only himself because it’s not the truth. The story has begun, of what, of troubles, of mistakes, of sorrows, even joys, of heartbreaks, of mental disturbances, emotional turmoils and what not, the ups and downs, periods of drastic transformation from being heroes to unwanted clowns. That innocent self and what heavy duty stuffs to handle? They become enough. And the day they do so, life shows its real face, a very difficult and frightening one. He runs, she runs, they run, we run, we try to flee, to escape. Now how far will this be possible? I don’t know, do you? He wants to get away from miseries, bitterness but amongst all this, in his safekeeping, he is carrying, we are carrying our little present of good times, good memories, pleasant people, experiences which we have stolen, which we don’t want to let go. He is told and she too and everyone else, if you are an exception, you are the best.But this statement has a two-sided meaning.Exception-the good one or the bad one? When you become best life tries to put you through.When they started with love, now they end up with hating you. You are smothered by imperfect situations cornering you and bad luck taking sides against your loved stuff and making you an imperfect crazy fool which you are not. Exceptional stories are not always perfect, are they? The sad stories of jealousy, vice, double-crossing, malpractice,fraudery, envy are also exceptional, but negatively. Do we need not to bother for them? We do. What about other problems in the lives of people, of animals, of nature, every live possible being, even if it is extraterrestrial. Life is a mute witness to so much unwanted phenomena. Someone is a loser stuff at studies, at romance, at perfecting in jobs, at sports, at pursuing his passions, at perfecting his imperfections. And the other is just perfect at all of it. So he is branded an exception. Does he like that label being given to him? I don’t think so. Then why is this name and designation given that undue importance? Why is it said you need to be exceptional at something. According to me can you be exceptional at everything, no not possible mortally. Do you need to be exceptional at hating, at doing criminal activities, at being wicked, at being impossible, at cheating, at preaching wrong and holding wrong stands for wrong causes, at spreading bad feelings, bad vibes, bad air or do you need to go down minimum on them. We need to think for a better cause, a fruitful one and we need to work for right ideas, we should do the needful, not only what is superficially fanciful. I am good at good things and better at better ones, don’t have time and my worth does not suit the bad guns or clumsy areas of exceptional messy mess. Exceptional, I don’t believe in this word. If you are good at something, feel for it, know its right in your conscience, then you have mastered the science of life, of living happily. When you can be just moderate at loving others ,helping them,working for your country,a good socially viable cause,if you can help people in their miseries,if you can make a good name in history ,if you can unravel life’s hidden mysteries, enlighten people with good thoughts, ideas, words, actions, if you can do something to change life for better, if you can turn the direction of people’s imagination, to real causes, make them realize what they are worth of and capable of. Then they may know that they are a revolution in themselves. And they are even better than exceptional, way beyond. They don’t have to be in bossism or command of this fake identity given by the word, exception. They can be their bests at living life, happily, sadly, gladly, madly, with good zeal, enthusiasm, spirits, kind heart, good mind. They don’t have to get distanced from life by being given the tag of exceptional. They can be in the middle of the game, of the race, feel the moon’s glory, sun’s power, feel the true feelings which define the world, life, living in itself very ordinarily. Because you can now become a commoner, or in my words, the super special being. Nothing happens until you feel to the ground, live on the ground and come to know that world is after all your own property, take care of it, its round. I cannot carry the load of the world’s exceptional shit. Exception, you need not be, moderation brings glee, with latter you wanna be free. With former, you need to go on a roller coaster worst ride on an unpurposeful game spree. Be a someone and let the world take pride in your strides. Be simple, be beautifully best. Exceptional is out, simple is in, now the king is a pauper and the pauper wears a crown of the king. Never feel bad if you feel simple or commonly you are the chosen one to run the race of life and sit on its golden throne quite beautifully.