This a story about her, thrall and him.

The land extended and always seems that it was in a quest to meet the horizon. they seemed like two lovers condemned like Sisyphus in their pursuit to be together...the land rose and fell, cut through itself and let its passion flow through the abstract beneath it, to rise and fold into peaks and alas the journey appeared as a trifling junket anyways its hope never failed. The land I say can exist anywhere but not everywhere. It had the barren earth like a female unfolded and brought into the earth with innocence, it had been tilled like a women aged with thoughts, memories, fears and ambitions in her youth. It lay beside the banks of rivers giving the impression she was under the mercy of the rivers, little did they know if she rose above the rivers she would swallow them like the desert and but she knew too well to do that lest she swallows and be damned. She persisted through floods and flowered through the spring. This is not the anecdote on her but on her passing master who loved her. Wanted to make her the queen and wanted in an absurd way to ravish her; take away her attire and outfit throw them in to the surrounding banks only to get new ones and rejoice on the occasion...the master who was her slave and mastered her only till she wanted to be enslaved...in her own free will. Thrall is a farmer. He grew things that could be reaped. Alike his human and alike the mongers between them he wanted money. But it was not all that he wanted. He never knew...wearing the greased outfit with a grey tinge to it he never could blend with the surroundings that he sweated on. But then he went on with an unsaid commitment like Jeeves...sans the humour for the onlookers. He was not ignored. He had moments of attention in which he loved to bask and moments he wanted to be outlawed and isolated. These were the moments of victory when he wanted to be alone...he did not want to share it. He wanted to share it with nobody. Thrall is bored. Why? He is bored of her...she always grew what she was seeded with. Nobody knew and everybody knew why. Yet he was not happy about himself. He was very happy about her. He was not sure whether she was happy about herself; he admits that he cares less about that.
She has been a woman for long...she never aged and Thrall could be some where near handsome and ugly but not the average...he neither received many compliments about his looks nor was ignored.

Their quest and objectives where different. She wanted to meet him. He was blue and handsome and he always looked at her and sometimes people called him blind, sometimes people hoped there was something above him where they could reach. He was challenging as he tried and twisted people's predictions and premonitions cast on him. They always talked and the banks heard them. They smiled.

Thrall will never know the above though...sad, so sad else he would have helped them. He always wanted to help her but when he did he ended helping himself.

He was growing spinach this season and she lay hid beneath his crops.


The dawn awoke Thrall and today was different. He wanted to see her. It’s been long since he had seen her naked and yes it had been long since he had seen her naked too.
He undressed her in a hurry as a lot had to be done. He held the spinach with her head and then wrenched it out. And when he did the spores of the spinach fell around. Sweating and panting he undertook the repetitive process and the veins of her were filled with pain a pain so relieving. She was being stretched, explored and fluids emerged from the crevices of spinach. She screamed wit a riff-raff sound as Thrall continued doing the same...it went on for a timeless period through the day.

In the end it was done. There she lay in all her brown glory. He stood solemn without a word...when they would meet? The two waited and only knew they could not until they would measure their wait with time. The time had to end and then they would rush and hug each other, wipe their tears and laugh aloud. The time had to end. Wish Thrall knew about it.
Thrall could not have done anything about it...but sometimes they are things that are good to know about. Just know them even when you cannot do anything about it. It’s nice to know...it’s pleasing.

He remained solemn looking at her from above....he never said anything more, he never rained he saw her, her curves, her mounts he saw her. He loved her ugly rustic postures the way she shifted from one place to another, the way she recoiled and moved on herself. He loved her and he stood solemn. She stared at him.

Thrall since he knew nothing, understood nothing. He was not happy about himself most of the times but then he was totally mad at her. It has been since he had weeded her of the spinach but after the occasion, she never allowed anything to be grown on her...nothing...she was like the child who outgrew her father's control...Thrall had no influence on her anymore...she had understood any influence was bad...influence in itself was bad...she is not Thrall and Thrall isn’t her. her trivialities might be colossal for him and vice-versa...she never thought about Thrall and Thrall always thought about her, wept for her and slept on her day and night and looked at him above but he was not given a glance. he was looking at her from above and she was returning his stare... Thrall could do nothing, Thrall lay on her with his eyes staring at him above...Thrall lay now on his side and could see both in his vision. The banks were swallowed by her and the tree at the edge withered. The water vaporised into him above and the tree withered and mixed with her and Thrall lay on her. He still thought he was the one who was to be taken care of and given a part in the act. Alas he never knew that he wasn't in the play...the banks looked beneath at the trees and they stared at each other.

Thrall was not alone though...he was looked by time and nobody else cared as they knew Thrall and time would both pass...pass away...
Thrall! Oh Thrall! Wish you knew something though you cannot have done anything about them because it’s nice to know things...jus to know them...

Roof coloured sand, the floating dust, the warming sun. Used rails blocking the rays and their shadows cast on the cement pavements. As to deny its vanity, stains of spit on the rail's legs formed intricate vulgar designs and its off springs stood few meters away, repeating themselves as if a staccato verse was being completed by them.

The silence, that the pavements and the walls arising from their heads bore was the best work till now by any con. And as Smarag neared it he could hear the hot air rising and mixing with steam. Dragging his suitcase filled with several things of no use to anybody but himself, he dragged on...
At the entrance he placed his luggage down and wiped his brow and to soften his creased palms he slid them over his brown coat. He saw above and involuntary tears filled his eyes, the sun had beckoned them.
After searching in his pockets he produced his tickets and looked at them. Yes, they were for his train and yes of course the journey was meant to be made in a few hours from now. He picked his luggage; he knew not what the destination was and cared less for not many know where they are destined to. He brushed his coat, he wanted them to be clean as he would not take them after this journey, and so he thought. He was never sure of many things anymore.
He stepped on the station and his cells in the head began to ooze out some irritants and the reheard voices of the chai-walla and vendors stroke his senses and the smell of the urine diluted by the stench of sweat pervaded. It never changed and he wondered how all the vendors could go on and on for all the bygone decades with the same cacophony. Long before he had thought people bought from these vendors to stop them from going on, just stop them for a moment so that they could listen to silence, yes not many have heard silence for long, people have forgotten to listen to silence, and they simply cannot fathom its beauty. it was beautiful than the euphonies of their times and records of their forefathers, something that was lost, silence lost in evolution...he stopped as he could no more remember what he was saying, and then he remembered only a bit of it, yes he was not saying he was thinking?? He sighed.

It was sultry and the sun was no more to be seen, the standing posts made of rails veiled them. He placed his head against the post and the closed his eyes and imagined a million arrows flying past the fortress and plunging into the enemy's hearts...he always did that to get sleep, it was the best sedative he had come across- defying his logic.

The wires livened themselves and the diaphragm above them quivered and the wires asserted to themselves and to the diaphragm around, “yes something is coming in us just be prepared.” to which the latter replied, "yeah am always..." and then the sound cracked announcing the arrival of the train and Smarag woke up, wiped his brow again to find no sweat but only the stickiness left behind them, he felt better. Smarag boarded the train, the compartments were not crowded.

He sat in the corner where he neither could see anybody nor can someone look at him. He reclined but felt restless and saw the coat shimmering in the sun, he always liked it when the coat shimmered.

The train chugged as the steam rose high in the air. The coals made their journey down below while the steam rose above and i moved on straight not knowing that i go in circles.

As the train moved on the wind made him sit erect and his hands were laid on his knees with grace as he used to do it. The train breathed life in to him and making him to live it a step above his existence. He felt him self sitting with ease and the brow enlivened and light peered into his eyes a bit more; atleast at the sides, he could not see anybody, he nodded, he wanted it that way...

He looked outside the window with his palm under his chin and head laid on the window, the sun streaming through his face exploring the passages of his countenance. The train sped through. It was gaining speed as it rode on and he felt stronger as it moved, it was a circle of energy being given to him and then intensified and a little more being given and then intensified again...the more he felt strong the train moved faster, there were no curves and there way no caves of darkness, it was a warm day and the coat added to the sudden felt comfort.

His hair lay now thrown back from the forehead and the claws beyond his eyes became retractable, he wanted to see and look and he decide to move on and sit amongst people, he was feeling bored and the long time that had elapsed in the train accentuated his curiosity and then he drew back himself...

He saw his hands; he never liked them in particular. For no reason, he looked at his hands. The wrinkles were vanishing and the red spots diluted to pink and then to cream yellow as they settled to their natural colour, the bones fell into their places and the creaking of his knees stopped. His knees heard silence, he stood up and he realised he could do that faster. He sat again and then shot upwards and stood erect and his spectacles hindered his vision, he removed them, the train was moving faster like never before, no he remembered they had moved this fast a long time ago, the rails stopped screeching and accelerated the wheels above them and greeted the next set of wagons as they ran over them, they shined along with rays as the wheels polished and scratched them. It had been long since they had loved each other so much...the train sped with an unearthly speed, a revolution.

He strode to the mirrors and wiped them, yes they were never clean and amongst the dew spots he could see himself, his angular cheek bones and his eyes set like pearls of human value...they shined and glimmered not with the sun but with something he had lost a while ago, they glimmered with hope...

he went and he could not see any people, they were jumping off from the train as it turned around the edges as curves in the rails had seemed to cease existing, the train ran over the shadows of the mounting landscapes around, threatening to tear them apart and shred the trees by cutting their shadows.

He was young he said to himself. he shouted and tore his silence and shrieked in happiness and bounced on the seats...spat in freedom and smoked, standing on the edges of the wagons and shrieked at women at whom the train allowed a glance. He ignored the sun, had his hands in his pockets and brought his coat taut on his shoulders and then he relaxed them and sang his song, that ran through the air...he never thought, he did...

The sound crackled far away and this time the lines and the diaphragm just sat there and then they voiced the opinions of their master, he began sweating and they was a pain in his knee...he could not see the diaphragm nor the lines as he closed his eyes, he sat in his seat and and then ran his fingers through his hair and felt them falling. The train made a shrill noise with joy as it pumped energy into itself and the rails lost their shine as he lost it in his eyes...he saw his hands where the vein spots started reappearing, he shrieked but could not hear himself and felt his tongue wobbling....the diaphragm shrieked again....he could not keep his eyes closed again anymore, he opened them and looked above and saw the train pumping the last of energy into it and come to a standstill, he stood up carefully and boarded his wagon, he sat and his hunchback hurt him but nevertheless he brushed his coat and they shimmered…

He liked it when his coat shimmered.

This really happened:

Walking from the institute back to my shacks with the fog clouding , hiding from nobody in the gaps of my hair the only sound I could hear was my jeans rick-racking each other as I strode over to my room…smoking the mist I looked at the trees and the branches and the huge ground that extend to several meters at the side of me …and then I said to myself “there can be no ghosts and I believe in none…no spirits we are just biological organisms and jus like the ant crushed we end…nothing more than that it’s over and out jus like pressing the end call button in my mobile jus like the second that finished before the present one…hmm it can’t be” there were no refusals and still I went “no! it cannot be there can be NO GHOSTS there cannot be simply not, it cannot be because we have a mind, not because we can picturise them, not because we attempt to find them…and not because my forefathers told me!” Ok, I moved on and climbed those couple of stairs and then went over to my room…and then as I shifted to warmer clothes I smiled “why the hell did I have to think about ghosts all of a sudden of all things in the world! Poof”…maybe even that’s a part of growing up…yeah I always attribute too may things saying that “it’s a part of growing up”…
In my bed I slid into the cold blanket to start the clean circle of warmth…i guess people know how it works…its like the blanket takes in heat from your body and then the wool intensifies it I guess…too lame a explanation…leave it there and I move on…
I woke up in the middle of my sleep and then saw that the door was open and I could still hear the gothic music playing on as I had kept it on when I was about to sleep…and the fog diluted as mist in front of the door, creeping in all the while. I hummed a lazy tone and then searched for the slippers, opened the door and there was no one at the corridor but the fog. Hmm the fog got denser and my hairs behind the neck stared at the ceiling…
A friend of mine came up to me from the corridor door and said “50 bucks”….I looked at him with a question in my face…and then he grew from being anxious to angry and started shouting in a voice that could only impinge my eardrums…”50 bucks!, 50 bucks!”… And he helped me in a fiend’s way to remove my pants all the while searching my pockets.
I am forgetting….
And then I remember getting up for the second time opening the door and then running on the road taken few hours before all the while crying, apologizing “oh I believe in you, u might be there, exist there and then swoop down…jus go back to your warm nests…go back…oh please do…” and then I entered the long distance call booth and called home and heard warm voices and hurried back into my blanket…

Freudian Inventory Results

Oral (53%) you appear to have a good balance of independence and interdependence knowing when to accept help and when to do things on your own. Anal (50%) you appear to have a good balance of self control and spontaneity, order and chaos, variety and selectivity. Phallic (40%) you appear to have a good balance of sexual awareness and sexual composure. Latency (33%) you appear to be overly practical; don't undervalue abstract learning, abstract learning increases your ability to make good decisions (and predictions) in the real world so it would be 'impractical' to shun it. Genital (73%) you appear to have a progressive and openminded outlook on life unbeholden to regressive forces like traditional authority and convention.

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End of DAY

Yes, my day is done and another coffee, i have to sit/stand and get to home ...looks like there will be a lunar eclipse today so apparently i have to bath and pray ...lets see :)

Bye.

Some of our days for some of us begin with the dreams. Irony is that when we feel the reality around us we forget those beginings and in an attempt to end the day right we do not ruminate on how it began in the subconscious mind...most probably it can be the fears, excitements or the needs and the relevant ablities of the previous day that lingers in our reflective part of the mind...can the end of the day be a junction point where we sort out our done and undone chores during the day,the dreams: can they be like a feedback?

I remember one statement :

this happened in my dream:

i roll out my tongue and say that i have too many of the white substance on and that means i might have some deficiency?

and a voice mutters , "No! it means there is a good blood flow in your tongue"...can it get more of a jabber than this?

and then the consciousness starts to deal with things in hand...and am at work now...well if i am typing this , it means I am not having much to do at the moment!

Friday evening...for a change my grey cells were becoming volatile with fluid inside, it was a reaction...a nice one with a severe pain and somewhere when it was guiding my footsteps along the corridors one of the cells plopped and said 'sex'...and the rest joined in chorus and everybody together in the cacophonous battalion of the grey army marched, muttering with contempt 'sex, sex ,sex'.

My hands rose to my head, whats that?, my eyes turned inwards, my conscious checked out for fantasies...Oh no not now my body screamed, and my lips bent into a culvert and choked its cells into a smile and my fingers twitched and my tongue felt the wet water, and i moved on, clutching my hair in 3 fingers and a tamed flame in the other hand...

i woke up in the mornings and i could hear the distant slogans from me...the urge passed and my foot touched the cold floor as i gropped for a towel. It was over, it was over....and surmising my intentions the cacophonous battalion went on a march....'it was over, it was over, it...was...over...'

ABYSS...

Something is amiss out here, am I trying to emulate my contemporaries or am I stinking in self doubt?.. Conjure up an image of you alone with all the resources intact...the material world loses its value...you are the rich, poor and genius! Whom would you try to impress now...yourself? c'mon it would boil down to the fact of who you actually are.....now you will try searching for someone of your own kind and if u meet him or her you will for another and then with three a society would be called up for and then with four you would separate into teams of two and have a friendly banter and then confidants will be born. To make things worse two more would arrive and at the end of some day you will be right here where I am, lurking in this same self doubt...and at the end of it realize all of this was from the very audience to whom u cater the above lines! Vicious circle indeed ...or is it one’s ignorance/indifference or rather mine to trivialize the whole thought process of a society?!When looked with profound interest, the inanimate has more individuality than anyone.....Is it better to be the shallow moon than to be among the millions of bright stars? And you being the human ......will posses the "mind"...rather........the sixth sense... which has the ability to think and do quite the contrary. Of the six people the three of you try to globalize while two might crave for isolation calling it privacy and then one in remorse for the past, laments. We were made complex in our systems to think simple which we are not....we ponder, scratch the scalp, read, write, discuss, argue and at the end of the day accept and move along! Or such is the life.... born ...live it through all the adequacy present and bear through all the inefficiencies. Enjoy the efficacy of work and bear the brunt of bliss and one day, not earmarked in a diary you invite an audience without an announcement and your silence invokes a shrill outcry that penetrates even the indifferent souls...and that day is branded as an anniversary! Who are these six people, after you they are now five in number.....and when one looks upon with deep concern all these six people are you....your six senses.....and when you are dead you loose the sixth sense and the other five are relinquished of their places thereafter...Does their individuality not stand for a chance?Can a human only be a reflection of his fellow men? So huge is this scenario that it prevails as an afterthought striking you only after each word was written and yet it puts forth an impedance to keep it unchanged!

I walk into the cafeteria...and hear a voice "hey man how ya doing....how was the test...oooh see that girl....." the mind starts functioning the blood starts clogging up in a section of my head...it has started ....I am shaky not knowing an answer which anybody of my age would know...”hey madhu”, a girl takes a peek at my table, “ got the assignment done?” and I give a blank stare all the while telling her to get the hell out of there. I am suffering in here ...contradictions...fighting against an unknown enemy and not knowing whether it is the enemy ....where did all this start ...I was living like everybody else ...playing a game of cricket in the weekend, pestering for a movie....looking at the new comics and then get a corner in the daily bus and get all wound up over it...as far as I remember it all started when I saw a heap of leaves gathered at a spot...they weren't there all those days...those leaves were under my legs, an assurance that I would not fall and that they would sail me to my destination peacefully… until then after which, a fear developed what if those leaves were plucked and shoved away from my life will I lose my way even before I
know I about it.this tinge of anxiety exponentiates every second ...why is that one should perform when one does not want to be the player...who has organized this big crime against themselves that billions have fell into...a brilliant trap that many fall from the womb into it and are swallowed, ingested, digested and all their energy is taken up for a purpose unknown. I guess I realised this when I was half way through and decided to climb out of it and only to find that here is where my destiny might lie and I am now stranded with no where to go. the moon looks good but better behind a tree... the sun is bright but- for me to see it should be behind the clouds, the peacocks make u feel elated but only when the sky is overcast and it is about to rain...the rainbow is beautiful but it is all the more great when we do not have the sun shining on its path after the rain ...so many ifs and buts....too many wants and everything is a permutation of what is available....all the needs are fed and again ingested by generations and one's waste is another’s source of energy ...after some time....eons have passed man names these as deceptive visions, material pleasure and Maya but still loves it cherishes it and it is an irony that he earns the same by his discourses against it! and suddenly I go void and I surge below so deep and all my anger dries out...just like that...in a moment where was all that vigor that I had a second ago and am I being conquered periodically by this fate...it says," ah boy come on...I had been on a holiday, decided to take a day off of u and you start defying me ...lets go for a ride get in.. else be left out". Left out? left out of what? left out of these trains that go back and forth under the control of tiny tots ...we are similar to them why don't we raise against this little heads why do we traverse thru the same tracks again and again thru the same roads. on the way we yearn and earn for some to tag along to abuse and adore them whenever we feel like and all these feelings being controlled by this train driver...who is he? he changes color so often...he was my mom first and then when she smiled and understood there were limits he disappeared from her and then from then on he began to haunt me… wanted me to get on his bogey and ride with him ...his face brings the wrath in me and then is overwhelmed into fear when he again looks at me and then I nod to take the seat but only for a short time But then I am my own enemy now....and its all the more frustrating that even though it is within me I am not able to figure out its strategies ...plop and he is not vanishing he persists and he dominates me to get out of that running train just jump and fall onto the sands beyond ....I am not able to get up as my fellow victim gives me a smile...what if he is a clairvoyant and is the driver. he should be enjoying. A villain he is ...seeing his puppet fear, shake and with all anger it taunts itself with.And then your head cannot take it anymore it flows through your eyes emanating that fear that rather becomes your defense...people ask me what happened to u are u feeling okay? no dammit I have been like this sedated as a saturnine bloke for years that I cannot remember nor can I recall when this all started....and I can't share it because it is something that is spewing out of me out....every atom in me ....spewing as gusts of sighs and morning toothpastes and then I gurgle with vigor .....prevent choking and then the grand finale happens he reaches your stomach and I recoil as a blow is given and I am like a smothered cookie....I walk into the cafeteria and the glass of water stands still like the few moments before my brain had started actually function ...and then as if it were like me, first the drop sways and slides on the surface on the glass and it will also have its share of the pit feeling in the stomach when it hits the table...my face becomes a weak wrinkle and I want to say it and get it out of my system, get some of the drops out of me as the glass could do and I muster up the courage and with all the strength that chokes up all the way to my throat and comes out adding a few ounces to the already persisting tonne in my head and I whisper, " I am tired and tired of it all!"I caution myself not to say it aloud. That would wake up the ones seated around me and they would be on my back pestering with all those heard and reheard questions. That will make me feel all the more worse and last but not the least I say it within myself with a very meek voice lest the driver should know where I am and take me for a ride.A child nearby cries to his father and asks him to take him for a ride. Believe me there is a lot of difference between me and him because sometime in the past I used to love rides...a past that I am not able to recall… its all vague...its not dark or sullen now, everything is bright and some may say that I am out of my mind...no dear its all in the mind.. that’s the whole problem...as for the others… all these are floating in the air for them to take it in and become one of them and they aid the driver in hunting me. will I be found?