O Hollywood! Why do you choose to be a celebrity? Fancied you. Don’t you know? Fools rush in where angels fear to tread. It’ll cost you your head.

There is a rash of people following celebrities, wanting to know. About how they live, while acting on film and stage. Drama kings and queens want to land ‘the dream’. To make it true. Wait! It’s not for you. It’s not what it’s cut out to be. The mannequins are from catalogues scissored with precision. And still…something’s missin’.

I watched the Oscar awards and wondered why. I could have cried. Finally, some might say, the women came out to play. To be numbered. They said, It’s not enough! Let’s get tough! No. The feminine force is strong, but wise. The Creative, Her mystery.  Not the one who totes and strokes; my name, my fame, oh dear, my shame.

O Humility, where do you reign? I long to know your sweet domain.

Darling men, lovely women, do you know how far you’ve come? And how much further you have to go? Do you realize your time waster? The attempt to distinguish yourself. Why are you crying? Are you lying in hiding? My heart aches to witness you. My compassion, the greatest fashion statement.

‘All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players’. O Hollyworld! How you hold your hostages within your false and glamoured grip. When you come to make a change, you simply rearrange.

Some say, The caucasians are dominating the world. We must recognize ‘other’ races! Yes!…but aren’t they just more pretty faces? Men have held the women down. The time has come to take some ground! Yes…but is this just another grandstand? Are we feminine or masculine? Who is wearing the pants now? In my silent voice, I humbly bow.

There is a peace inside of you. Found, if you let your hair down. Take off your gown, your message, your push, and find that button that opens the door to that simple you. It isn’t costumed, though perceived as disguised. It isn’t where you’ve been hypnotized. It can’t be found singing the blues. Nor has it a reason to protest news. With all its might, there is no fight. It realizes the war is One.

1 + 1 = 1. Hollywood, Baby. We are all already equal. You’re not so good at math. Not yet.

To all of you. To all of us. Forget the fuss. Ones who want to be recognized have yet to realize. We are the parts of a unity. By birth. It is all inclusive. All the world, and beyond. There is no way to dispute this. It is obvious…yet somehow missed?

If you care to be distinguished by caste, culture, gender, and how you use it, do your Self a favour. Muster your pride…then, lose it. Who you are cannot be disgraced. I may see your white, your black, your coloured face, but make no mistake, who you are is always visible.

I wish you a bloom. Not a bang and boom when you enter the room. But the unfolding of your inner lotus that lets you know, you’re just like me. It’s our responsibility. To reap what we sow as we grow our seed. There is no mistaking. The identity that you have come to hold is your truth be told. When you look in the mirror, do you know who you see? You are your own evil, your own queen. And if you look deeper…Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest One of All?

O Hollywood! May your curtain fall.