Nimirndhu Nil

Tamil'il kavidhai kor'ka aasai-thaan

aanaal... en Tamil kavidhai'yai keduthuvidummo endra ach-chum'mum kooda...

Kudhi-thu sellum kaagam'mum, thaliraadhu thudikum elai'galum, asaindhu aadum may'ga kavasamum

Pagalum, iravum, paruvamum, karumamum

pin-thodarum nizhal'laga

Kaatrum, mazhai'um, satrai sudum kaneer thulium

thudikum narambum, ambum, vaalum

Sindhanaigal'il aval mugamum kasaiyum...

Irumbhai valaikka pogum poraali'yin kalgalay thulaitha thurumbhai pola

Katri'yaval piditha tholgal'in pin nindru kuth'thiya mudhigin eerum kasai'ya

Adi'thalam mariya pinnum - kaalam, nayrum, paavum, puththi - sat-rai sutri varah

iru sottu kurudhee villundhadhu oru kuttai puzhudhiyil...

Arthamay illadha unarchigalil vaalum valkai pola.

Av-vun vali'ku alum vurimai avalukku mattum vundu

Andha vali'yeh aval kodukka neyrgayil alugai vunarndhu vuraindhu ponadhu.

Kuridhi'ya(?) Kanneer'ah(?) Idhil edhu manidhanay adakkum(?)

Viyarvai sindhum nerathil sindhanaikku id-dum illai ippoludhu

Pagazhil maraiyum idhayathirku iravil vudhithu payan-edharku...  

  

Que Sera Sera

Time is such a precious thing. It is not about metaphysical questions like who invented it(?) or on what basis it was invented(?) or whether it is the same for everyone(?)... This is more about the changes that happen around us when we are too adamant not to change or too stubborn with the thought of changing ourselves while assuming that the things around us remain constant in the mean time or worse still, attempting to change others as we change ourselves or decide to remain unchanged in the process.

In this process of change, undeniable is the fact that time runs by... 

The fact that every seed and every child grows, every sin is realized and regretted, every lesson has been learnt and unlearnt in the process does not count at the end of the day when the toll is seen as a punishment on one's own body and skin. Of late I read about a popular and beautiful actress from a couple of years ago lamenting over why she is not offered any roles in movies like before - especially after her marriage and two kids... well, she might not see it but, things have changed. Her innocence is replaced with the very fact that she is beginning to see and question the facts and realities of life. We get to read about women killing their husbands to be with their lovers and in the process landing in custody and losing their life as well as those around them. This in fact is not new. A few decades ago I remember a young couple who were quite close during their college days. The girl was seriously involved; the boy, not quite so. As usual, the family drama stepped in and she was told that parents knew what was best for their child and they had found a better option and a brighter future in the promised land - the U.S of A. - with a proposal that could be sealed through a holy matrimony. With her lover backing out, she took the proposal and did take off to the promised land - but not for a promised life. She declared to her new husband her affair from the past and inundated him with punctuated clauses about reasons why she would be lost in her past memories even if she were to li(v)e with him. As any self-respecting man would do, he wanted to wash himself clean from this mess as well and sent her back home for good. This time, the former lover had no chance to escape. To cut the long story short, there was a divorce, a second marriage for her and a first for the lover-turned-second husband, they have two kids and are living happily or miserably ever after. What was lost in all this drama was 'time'. What was established was the fact that what must happen will happen - que sera sera...

Sons grow, daughters grow, marriages grow old and sour, people yearn for rest and respect as much as they earn to rest and be respected, we spend so much time conceiving plans to destroy others when the same could have been invested to create something better for oneself and those around, we fight only when it comes to losing what we have and stay comfortably unbothered with pretentious emotions when we see someone else struggle or fight, we highlight the mistakes of others as we delight in our own eccentricities as we underplay our atrocities - as we begin to think and think of beginning a new chapter in our life. Yet, it moves...    

Price Tags

A few years back, I recall a conversation with one of the greatest 'kanjoos' (miser) who told me about his minimalistic approach to life and how he and his family were existing off handed-over clothes; on the parallel I also happened to meet a spendthrift who was giving off clothes from his wardrobes so that he can fill them up again for the season and to suit the latest fashion to align with his family's taste. There are people who save on food and end up spending on medicines. People who spend on luxuries and yet feel empty within. People who save and save every penny. every dollar and every paisa and finally end up in their old age watching their money squandered when shared. 

Money and how we approach it - as a means to an end or as an end in itself - quite metaphysically encompasses one's ego that needs to be satiated. Tell me what you do with your money and I will tell you where your ego (self) bloats and where it shrinks - the things you so desperately procure to feel full and the things you let go to establish yourself. Money defends the ego. 

If our ego can alter the way we use, misuse or abuse money, money too has a fair chance to use, misuse and abuse our ego - with and without its presence. 

During our discussions, my kids told me that they observed that people who speak with price tags attached to every thing they possess, are rather poor or nouveau riche. They lack class. They usually hold and never use what they have the way it is supposed to be. These are the kinds that buy an expensive carpet and hang it on the wall, buy four-wheel drives that they do not even know how to roll out of the store and end up being gaudy, greedy and jealous burning with envy in their eyes when they pry something new over their neighbour's wall. They are an easy spot at weddings, birthday parties and any such social events where they deck-up their image in a futile attempt to hide their plunging egos. Note: They should not be mistaken for the unnecessarily scanty, irrevocably transparent, miserably revealing histrionic personalities that may be floating around. Those are the attention-seeking kind.

At the end of the day, whether you wish to be flashy or wish to be subtle, you reveal more than you intend to hide.        

 

The Serpent'sTea Cup

Late into the night, I received a call from a friend of mine to announce that a common friend of ours, had just had twins - a boy and a girl. They had baked a huge double-decker cake and had celebrated the event. 

As a friend of mine once asked, 'What is the big excitement in the birth of a child(?) When a virile man and a fertile woman join, conception and birth of a new life are bound to follow... what is the big excitement about it and the need to be congratulating(?!)'

Well, I did agree to him when he told me that. But, this celebration yesterday night was different. This friend of ours was with the merchant navy; newly married, he had to return to the sea to make money for the new expenses they were starting to have. He was in the waters when he heard about his wife being pregnant. The wife had told him that she could take care of the pregnancy as his mother was with her and there was nothing to worry and all he had to do was keep working and send home the money which she promised to save on land for him. The child was born; he couldn't come. His excitement of becoming a father was saved for only the sea to witness. Two years later when he returned, he met his little boy for the first time. He was so excited that he showered all that he earned on the mother and the child. He knew that there was a lifetime ahead and the sea could meet all their needs. After a short break, they knew that he had to return to keep the home running with promises to keep as a provider. This time, it was a five-year contract that he signed. That sacrifice would be worth enough to refurnish the house, spike the bank balance and provide the little luxuries for his loved ones - he thought. He went. 

Everything went smoothly as planned and he received regular photos of new things filling the house - a new car, a new couch, a new set of jewellery... everything that would make his return to land a joy once he landed - after all his life and savings were in his good wife's good hands. 

One day, when he was still in the sea, his mother sent him an SOS and wanted to talk to him. She soon came on a video call with him and showed him the house - it seemed reduced. There was almost nothing - save for the stool left for his mother to sit and weep on. The brilliant wife had skilfully taken off with their son and every bit of investment he had made monetarily. He felt more emotionally drained than financially. He returned.

The house was empty as his mother had shown. She was being taken care of by the neighbours till his return. There was nothing. Everything purchased that he got to see only on the photos were like they never were even there; the bank balance that he was told was his savings was all saved in the woman's name. The car she drove away in, the bags she packed everything into, the child she took away... everything that she said was 'theirs', were now 'her's' to keep. Every woman who does something as vulgar as this must have a family to back her up in such a deal; in this case, it was her father stood by this angel's side - who got a case filed at the police station to keep our man at a distance and a divorce filed at the family court soon after, to seal the deal. Benefit: A daughter to take care of him in his old age with a bag full of free goodies got out of her shrewd investments made with the sweat and blood of another soul. 

When I first met this man, he had just returned from a Tea Shop. It had become his usual routine to go sit there - not for the tea - but to see his son being taken to school on that route in a closed car - who he could see only from a distance. He looked shaken, stirred and sunk - like a ship being rattled in a storm - when he narrated these incidents with his chin on his chest. 

Soon, the nasty divorce battle began; the lawyers fought over the lies, the liars fought alongside the lawyers and finally the judge for whom these battles were not fought for a reason, declared peace and granted at the end the best thing the man had ever received - a divorce. The very same evening, he got married (again) to someone much younger, more beautiful and far more healthier and started a new life cleaning up his dirty slate. This incident made me chuckle at the seaman's unpredictability. Soon, we heard that his new wife had conceived and as things were expected to naturally turnout, delivered twins - doubling his happiness - that like most men, he deserved. 

While talking to him this time, he seemed so calm and collected. He was talking about how busy he is at times that he can't answer the phone like before - times when he would be doing the dishes or changing diapers for the new lives. Life had become calm after the storm and as a sailor knows best, no matter how far a man sails into the deep, he only moves closer to his heart on land.     

Questioning the Answer

This time lets play a brain game. This is about the most dangerous question in the world. A set in fact - but, it begins with this simple one: 'Are you happy?'

To which anyone would retort with an impulsive-compulsive-response, 'Yes(!)'. Just hold them there. The quicker the response, the more preconditioned and thoughtless they are. Catch them there; tell them that you really want them to know how happy they really are. Shoot Question two: 'What makes you happy(?)'

Remember: You still haven't got the answer for Q.1.

Allow the person to reflect. Let them list. It may include the normal, regular and boring: music, books, games, food and a long list of other B.S. Look interested, keep listening all the while exploring and wondering why these things - each thing - on their list makes them happy. If you are a seasoned mind reader or a gifted psychoanalyst, you must have already started to understand the subconscious drives and subliminal desires of the person; if not, understand that the tip of the iceberg reveals only a bit of the mountain it hides.

Remember: Q.2 is still inconclusive. 

This is when Question three touches the bottomline: 'Would you still manage to be happy doing the things that you do that really don't make you happy(?)' 

This is the point when retrospection really sets in when the person will try to recollect and count the things that are mundane, an unescapable list of tasks and ritualistic endeavours undertaken to be validated. Most of us do what we do just for validation without gratitude. We do things, wear things, speak things and pretend to like or even dislike something to avoid being named, labeled, branded and sealed as 'misfits' and the 'unfits'. In short, we pledge our life to be drafted according to other's opinion. And in it lies our unhappiness. 

Remember: Q.3 cannot be answered.

So when we clear off this smoggy vision of self-created illusion of happiness, we tend to see in bits, pieces and fragments the ruthlessly guiltless, shamelessly raw and fearlessly liberated parts of ourselves - caged, confined and battered over the years manifests. In these fragments across the maze lies the puzzle of who we are. In it lies the undeniable self - only if we dare to see. 

The best resort for those who don't wish to see... don't take the question.        

Check Mate

 

Chess has a ginormous monster, a legend called Magnus Carlsen and there is another legend who blew off his top cracking the game as if it were a war - none other than Bobby Fischer. Of course there others like the magical Mikhail Tal and the refined Capablanca - my daughter's favourites. These are people who were fighters; who made up their own moves, who explore and explode the board with their limitless calculations and strategies. 

Then there are the others, those who learn chess like it were a set of algorithms, patterns that are limited to their theoretical understanding of openings, middle game strategies and end game finishers and maybe a couple of gambits and traps they pull out once in a while like snipers. These are our 'memory boxes' created in the likes of factory-manufactured products going in and coming out of mushrooming chess academies. They go to tournaments with calculated moves and if the counter move is different, they panic and are lost. 

There are 960 ways in which a chess board can be arranged; still, in classical chess, often promoted by the Federation Internationale Des Echecs (FIDE) - the International Chess Federation, there is only one way, the right way of setting the board. With the chess board set in the 'right' way, there is a possibility of anywhere between 1327 (recorded openings) to 3000 possible openings - giving a fair chance to memorize and replicate openings and counter defence based on successful moves previously played. When the chess pieces are randomized and set in 960 possible ways, the number of possible openings can be multiplied 3000 times 960 that makes the game unmemorizable, unpredictable and exciting. For Fischer and other legends, this unpredictability is what makes the game fun to play instead of matching algorithms with the opponent that they feel makes the game mechanical, tiring and (yawnnn!) boring. This has led to a clash between the conservatives and the radicals and at times the classical chess conservatives taking up the challenge to fight the liberal radicals of freestyle chess over the board only to run screaming the other way in panic and horror when they realize that their memory boxes are unable to think beyond the boxes and squares they have been trained to play within. Needless to say, Fischer must be smiling with ease (at least) now. 

Chess apart, this also figuratively showcases our parenting styles. Hands down I would agree that today's parents are more involved, concerned and evolved in parenting than our predecessors. However, do they pick the box of conservative and traditional parenting methods, suggestions and ideologies or are they exploring possibilities rather differently(?) Are we trapped within our own acquired knowledge or do we challenge the norms and give unpredictability a chance(?) Our kids may be ready for the mundane with trackable answers from the reserves of encyclopaedias... yet, are they ready for the unpredictable and unpardoning challenges in the discourse of life(?) 

Like chess, only time will tell who wins, who loses, who resigns and who berserks at the end of the game when a thin line is drawn between a checkmate and a stalemate. It's your move now...  

To Paint Play or Pray

 

There is so little left of life that no one can afford to miss one bit of a moment to experience joy, laughter and bliss. As a child we were all born happy. Others could only stop us from experiencing what we found to be happiness - like stopping us from jumping into a puddle or getting drenched in the rain or just watching a metamorphosis. Happiness is just there 'within'... by nature. 

And then the child grew and started to look around for supportive happiness, a form of dependency to make one happy that seemed impossible 'without' others permit. Happiness expected to be derived from others, other things or other's things or the other's other - the latter two squandering into the illegal and immoral territories. The idea of happiness we picked up from people around us and from leaflets in magazines to exploit man's search for satisfaction - a commercialized concept of modified and nurtured happiness. The claim that the better watch is the costlier watch, the better car is the yacht, the better (pent)house is the one on the rooftop that no one would otherwise want, the best drink is the one that oozes out of a civet's butt and the best food is something that is covered with gold that the body can't even absorb. And we fall for it...

This Veblen Effect of purchasable happiness moves us to find ways to bring in the moolah to gain the content to find what it promises. Some buy things while others go after people. Finally, we have our warehouse and storerooms full of things we do not use and our boardroom and bedroom with people we cannot trust one bit. This search for finding something lost either puts us in a vicious circle or takes us on a carrot and stick ride. 

Art turns beautiful and develops a character when the artist sublimates; but sublimation sinks the artist into the challenges, problems and issues he faces subtly yet with a subliminal effect. The end might bring in a smile but the journey would have been a walk through silent pain that only the artist would know. Sports on the other hand, would be a diversion indeed - to play that shot, to hit that target, to checkmate... that requires focus and concentration before experiencing that exhilarating sense of ecstasy - but that too comes with a quid pro quo - the sportsman has to be in a particular state demanded to reap the particular rush promised. Meditation and its associated jing bangs also can take you out of reality - like a drug - yet the reality awaits with its jaw open and shiny, pointed teeth waiting to swallow you whole when you come out of that cuckoo world. 

What is happiness then(?) Where is this 'joy'(?) When does one attain bliss(?) I have reached a phase in my life where I render it a privilege if I can find someone happy and consider myself fortunate to be in their company. That gratitude gives me a chance to be at bliss. I think when we wonder why God put us through a rough patch in our life and ask why our facade of happiness was shattered(?), it is perhaps to remove the filth that covers our eyes, to make us see the false and the pretentious lies floating around us and clean the rubbish we had to put up with while creating a space to accommodate simpler and truer essence of life. Every journey changes the man who undertakes it and every scar has a story to tell. Until then, Paint, Play or Pray... everything for a while.  

Nude at Crossroads

There are things we build with hope. Hope they say is what keeps us doing what we do and without it, we are as good as dead. Hope brings forth optimism, a willingness to move forward - despite every reason one has not to do so. Hope, is a thought. 

To lean on Greek mythology and look at the lore about the emergence of hope, it starts when Pandora, the first woman sent by the Gods as a form of punishment to man (interesting isn't it(?)), could not withstand her temptation and opened the Box of Troubles with which she was sent, that which she was cautioned not to open (interesting again, isn't it(?)) This mistake arising from her impulsive curiosity was realized only after the damage was done and all the troubles were out (interestingly typical once again(!)) Well, almost... 

Pandora however was quick to cover up and managed to shut the box before the final 'trouble' escaped. The one that remained. The only one that managed to remain. Though intact, nevertheless, a trouble. This in fact is the reason for all the trouble, that makes man take and endure the rest of the troubles. Perhaps, the worst form of trouble. 

Guess what that mischievous trouble could be... well, indeed, it is 'Hope'. The one that makes us feel that everything will be alright, that everything erred can be forgiven, forgotten; the lost can be rebuilt, the sickness would heal, the dead would rise, a few still alive would die, the clock will slow down for us to catch up, the lost will be found and the found could be lost; every puzzle can be solved and every problem resolved; the crooked crook can be caught by her horns and thrown into a burning bush of thorns; hope, is what makes us walk through burning coals of torture, climb the pricky ladder of indifference, cross the burning bridges of chances, break the glass ceiling and endure the pain to finally meet the blind lady of justice and win the battle against lies, betrayal and double standards and war against the hypocrites - everything with nothing but an invisible armour of 'hope'. But then, that is what hope does... makes one feel unconquerable while exposing what a vulnerable, empty, depending fool he is and pushes him soon into the embarrassing dark dungeons of regret and shame.    

Every man must fall, every river must rise, every stone will turn to sand and every grain of sand to stone, every tower will fall and the earth will still move even if we don't wake up at night. There is nothing to hope for and trouble ourselves. Every other trouble erupts from outside - except hope. Why bother ourselves with hope(?) Losing hope is the best way of not being distracted, attracted and becoming stubborn with our pursuit. When standing naked and with nothing to hold on to at the crossroads of life, look back and be overwhelmed, stay stranded in oblivion - brooding over things you cannot change or see the three turns ahead and move ahead without hope, without expectation - that is perhaps the realization they call 'nirvana'. 

A Daily Dose of Love

 "रांड सांड सीढ़ी सन्यासी इनसे बचे सो आये कासी" 

(Raand, Sand, Seedi, Sanyasi - Inse Bache So Aye Kashi)

- Kabir :)

'The four' Kabir asks every thinking, sensible and rationale man to detach himself from to move towards 'Kashi'. 

Makes sense when you see them to be the forecasted encounters every man will find enroute to 'Kashi'. Those temptations that will test a man's virtue, intellect, courage and wisdom before being considered worthy of reaching 'Kashi'. Kabir reminds us to be saved from the scripts and games of these unpredictable four if one wants to be single-minded in attention, focus and concentration to reach 'Kashi'. 

But, what is there in 'Kashi' upon reaching there(?) What's in store in the literal as well as figurative Kashi(?) A bunch of lost souls who got in there, landed there, found their way there... or perhaps the enlightened lot who will not speak and would rely on everyone to find their own way - waiting to blame it on destiny if one finds and if one doesn't/cannot too. So we have a bunch of disconnected people who have walked past dangers and temptations and know that each person's journey is unique and cannot be replicated. There would be those who would have found the meaning of life in the meaningless nothingness of nirvana. So basically there is nothing. So what is the point of going to Kashi(?)

The fun I think is in the journey rather than the destination. If we focus on the journey, we miss the destination and vice versa. Isn't it(?)

Isn't human life about being there and fighting through strife(?) The identity of a human being (the answer to the basic question, 'Who are you(?)') does not lie in our our name, age, gender, position or any other silly societal given's - that would be too lame even if we agree to it with the slightest expectation. Our existence lies in our action - in what we do. In the verb and not in the noun, adjective or compliment. We are not who we say we are; rather, our actions explain who we are - even without saying a word. Words fool while the truth lies in silence.   

In our search for rest, calmness and a piece of peace within the facade of life and its briefings, we miss the beauty of chaos and the adventure of moving through it. The test of virility is not in choosing to be impotent.

 

  

 

The Three Kinds of People

In a recent conversation with my son, he mentioned that we should not be cutting ties with people; this was after we were wondering about being independent and self-reliant without bothering or disturbing others. He reminded me of an earlier conversation we had when I had mentioned that it is not ideal to to be dependent and lost nor wise to be independent and alone but quite reassuring when we can be 'inter-dependent'. He added on, 'We have lost too many people who we couldn't get along with and we are left with only a few... let's not lose them too.'

This was neat and timely. The books say, people either go towards people, avoid people or move away from people. The first two are surprisingly sympathetic and pathetic. Those who move towards people with a sense of neediness to be accepted, respected and loved are those who need constant validation; those who avoid are the one's who have been affected during earlier interactions with certain kinds who would have broken a trust or even better - betrayed them. The third kind are the complacent ones... with no need for validation nor fear of being betrayed - they simply move away minding their own business with self-assurance. Which one to be or not to be, is our choice and ours alone.   

Personally, I have committed to be of the third kind. Superimposing Transactional Analysis to these three types, this may also be compared to being a dependent child and transforming into a selective adolescent/adult and later maturing into a spaced-out individual. While this may sound and appear to be a personality trait, it is a dependent variable based on our situation. It is retrospective. 

My son seems to be right in content yet we may have to differ in perspective. For some considered lost, who walked away, who shut doors, who live in a scripted delusional narrative do not deserve to be with you for better or for worst. At this point, we may not know what we appear to be or which category we get slotted into by others. That is upto them and we have no control over it. The best I can say to those who have taken their time to label and slot me into a category of their convenience, I may be guilty as charged; but, the charges are guiltlessly accepted...  

Ditches and Hitches

A smile is all that you look for when life is sloppy and you don't seem to get a hang of it.

A smile even from someone unrelated and distant can make your burden light.

A smile when the stretcher rolls, a smile when a file moves, a smile that disappears at a turn and returns to appear once again for a lifetime. 

A smile is all it takes to make it's greedy cousin - the laughter - poised for a while.

For the past few weeks I have been facing this strange issue of a reemergence of unprompted memories at the wrong time in front of unexpecting people in the most inappropriate way. These moments happened while seated on a dentist's chair and when asked to bite into a mould to get an impression or when the nurse was trying to pump out the aftermath of a few procedures - when I was expected to stay still... but couldn't. It was the return of the uncontrollable happiness and laughter that were part of my soul a few decades ago. When this imploring excavation and restoration was happening in my mouth with two, three people hovering over my face and asking me to keep my mouth wide open or shut tight, I was erupting into laughter. Why(?) Because I was recollecting old jokes, silly ones, funny ones, stupid ones, creamy ones that were once shared among friends and closer ones and with whom I have cracked up like there was no end to it.

Well, this time, I was not going to stop... I needed this happiness. Something lost over a couple of years in the past. A dark phase of my life. A phase I wish can be wiped out. A phase when I was made to feel guilty and ashamed of everything about me... like the demons could gaslight anything (kuch bhee) and were there to snatch what was 'me' out of me. Laughter and smiles are like a thunderstorm and rain that quenches the earthy soul that clears the slate. That brings back memories, a new strength, a new possibility and lets you throw a birdie at people who are there thinking that they have the power to restrict or control it. It is this happiness - even if it is in front of strangers - as embarrassing as it can be that every man deserves to have.

Life is fun. Especially when you can see possibilities past the ditches and hitches... 

Hocus Pocus Focus

Why is it that we don't break into a laughter these days(?)

Why is it that we can foretell how a story is going to end even before reading the book or watching a movie to its end(?)

Why is it that we don't get fooled by people's behaviour - no matter how much effort they put in to conceal their intentions(?)

Well, perhaps if you are wondering why, the reason may not be that you were suddenly miracalized by a magical wand and have been loaded with a sack-load of wisdom. Neither does it mean that your years of investing in knowledge-accumulation has finally started to pay off nor does it imply that you have been suddenly awakened with realization from a session of pseudo-science like yoga, accupressure, accupuncture or even tantric hocus pocus. 

The actual reason for being able to reason, rationalize and reach a conclusion even before getting excited without a boring conversation or never-ending observation is because of a process of data assimilation and identification of patterns of thought and behaviour and being accustomed to experiences of knowing what that would lead to that comes with ageing with unwalled experiences. Its like being able to predict the movement of a vehicle looking at the indicator - it could be as obvious as that. 

While idiots may call it a gut-feeling for loss of better words, a intellect-wannabe may recall it to be Deja or Voulez Vous. To break it into simpler language, this factor to reach quicker conclusions on where the path one takes or someone else we observe taking could lead to - like the prognosis a doctor makes - comes with age; 'age' that provides experiences on exposure to stimuli that are at times pleasing and many times... unpleasant - like the scent of a woman or maybe the scent of the woman. 

We look in awe at the elderly who can predict the future of our current experiences and situations in life and may even look upon them as a sage or as some divine incarnate. But, we could be a big butt wrong... for the more a person is exposed to multi-faceted stimuli without judgement or preference and the more endowed he is with opportunities considered vain, unvirtous and condemnable that make him corrupt with experience, the better chances he has to be likeable and to be seen as a person with a halo by all. Only the wisest man siting there giving advice knows what a SoaB he is on the inside... Quite a predicament isn't it(?)

The fact is, as long as man has access to good, clean and an unconditional supply of air, food, water and sex, he will remain a Saint. Deny any of these and he becomes a Saint Bernard. While we all know that a well fed cat never steals, the problem with the world today is that we have made these basic and elementary human needs 'inaccessible' not only by making it unaffordable but by making it undeservable through values imposition - values that become barriers and burdens than anything of brilliance. Exploration in forbidden territories begin with denial and the enthusiasm to do so is sustained by the way one is able to justify their way until they reach a point of unguarded, unguided, unquestioned orgasmic explosion that comes with the risk of expulsion. The one's who find it, remain quitely seated with a smuck smile of bliss while the others who run around searching for it like a blind, headless chicken in a dark maze at night, may meditate to cool their groins. 

Life is simple. And in it lies the beauty of our salvation.        

The Recoiling Whip

 

Poetry and art, they say, are not to be explained.

They are to be understood and interpreted as the viewer pleases.

If explained, they cease to be poetry or art as they turn into a prose that is as much a narrative.

Life too swings on this balance - on one hand when logic strikes and makes us see everything as right and wrong, left or right, black or white; while on the other, we see life as an emotional essence that needs to be felt - unexplainable and uninterpretable. 

Then there is also the grey line between that black and the white... the crossroads at which we often st(r)and. Where pieces of the puzzle we try to solve, the riddle that we must resolve, the maze through which we fix our gaze - all seems to fall right in place. This is a God forsaken land where only truth triumphs, where one is true to their own self, where the exchanges that happened did so in the quiet darkness of our souls - the mutely comfortable point where remotely isolated truth gets segregated from the bashful lies - even if it cannot be proclaimed loud. The fantasies - implored and explored - every thought that could possibly bring an unstoppable mischievous smile. The facade.

Companion is a partner with whom your secrets are safer than it would be if it were with you; a person who judges not yet is excited and looks forward to hear and share about what one experiences; a soulmate with whom one can share thoughts and thoughtlessness as if one were speaking through a mirror. Mirrors are fragile and tend to break... still, reflections are as needed as a companion. When the journey into the next wilderness continues, away from explored and more accustomed paths, the vulnerability of being broken (yet again) does creep up like a recoiling whip. Yet, it moves...