Why Should you be Greedy?

The world will not have skyscrapers if it was founded and run on the principles of Buddha
You and i cannot post on the internet if all of us would have sat behind the forests and meditated of inner peace. We would have not advanced this far if we concentrated on the only desire to limit the same...We would have been marred in innumerable crosses if we wnet by jesus and ofcourse gandhi was shot for his shortcomings...and so was Martin Luther King!

Who proposes this morality of self-containment and satisfaction and who follows it.

The best improvement of the society can only come when the induvidual recognises the need for it and does not wait for communism, democracy to take the reigns and lead him to better life, nobody can do the best for you than yourselves, one man's faults can be the perfect action for the others, the hour has arisen to recognise the induvidual and the the induvidual has to recognise himself as the highest important being and NOT HIS DESIRES, by this i mean his sole strength must not be towards temporal gains and fleeting prestige but to make a epitome perfection of model himself and worship the same, in short your ambition must be your GOD and you must work towards it, this will negate the ill attitudes too, the upliftment or the instant destruction of the induidual will directly depend on his ideas and therefore he cannot blame anybody, he cannot say reservations, he cannot say caste, this might be utopia??? and you thought to be selfish is easy? ah!...



GREED cannot have a negative connotation if you have the ability and will to work towards the greed to make it a reality...

duh

When you are true to yourselves, it will be difficult, but it will be a life and not hypocrisy.

We are in a country where the poor is pitied, we are in a country where the oppressed is asked to raise his voice, we are in a country that secures seats even before the he person for whom the seat will belong to is unborn! We are in a country that had socialistic ventures till 1976 and the hypocrisy was whitewashed by the emergencies of 1976 and where the term “Socialist” was added.

Our society is not guilty of anything as a whole, it collects and pounds filth of guilt in some pockets and chokes them. It diffuses guilt when you are rich, when your family had a decent living a few years ago, when you are intelligent and deserving in the family. We feel that society is a line of skewed socialistic drums. Granted that the intention is as noble as the word ‘noble’ can get, but the ways and means that you take to achieve are skewed beyond recognition of this nobility, benchmarked…

Wake up in the mornings and i get to see the ceiling, i want to find it changed...and then i go behind the sheets and through the weaver's hole i again look through...i need to find a change in the ceiling...i want water to drip and wake me up every morning, i want the paint to peel with my months and years...alas it stays new and sometimes novel but yet it is not changing...i am becoming afraid of getting stuck...it is fun to catch a bullet when you are running...when you are not static...it might just miss you...

My Colored Glass

I see what is there
Beyond the smiles
Beyond the curved corners
behind the hedgestone

I see want i want
Snow fields and wasted twigs
Pine trees withered
She sipping wine

I see what i saw
Beetles, peacocks and cranes
Agony tree and washer's stone
The one legged bitch

This is my colored glass
I wear it all day
Wear it all night behind my pillow

The Premonitions

It is like a drowsiness that consumes you…enters from the air of doubt that prevents you from trying out new things and if you do the same frightens you of the consequence, I feel like using expletives here but then I think I will remain ‘civil’ as long as possible. I have plans, I have love, I have spleens and yes I have confidence, just one to take care of three things…I am failing many times now, I have never had these bullies around me, I feel like I am being pushed around by MYSELF, and I feel nobody is really responsible for what is going around me, and if it is supposed to be the omnipotent omnipresent God than I will kick him in his ass, I am sick of fate, destiny and karma, those are for people who have loads of money and they feel like they are not still happy or content that is because they never will be, you should be not content, you must direct your unsatisfaction and greed into ways that will actually benefit you, are those karmic superstitious yogis hearing???? I do not know, I might fail, I might fall so low that I am not going to get up or I will rise and belt the ass of all those apathetic bodies who cannot think or I might just have no one around me. Now, at this moment I do not give a rat’s ass to anything, anything that I loose or gain is again in my control but at this moment I do not care, I want to be with myself, I simply do not care, people can wait till I come out of this or they can just take their train, I will not lend money to home, I will spend more on my phone bills, I will feel miserable and will not shed a tear, I will smoke and I will drink and I will be the pink unicorn one day. In the end everybody wants something from you, else they want you. I am sick of this, yes maybe I am immature so what I will grow at my own pace, maybe I am idealistic. At the moment I feel like summoning the delusions of a guardian angel and belting her so severe so that the angel runs away so that I am my guide…

Go Back...

Walking out of the womb,
Clutching the cord of curiousity,
He takes his first step.
Unsupported, Unwithered of yesterday's innocence,
He takes his first step.
Not knowing the causes
Not knowing the consequences

In his own microcosm, he lives...
The others do not matter.
their loss and their wins,
are theirs, not his.
Never shed a tear or smile,
Not knowing the causes
Not knowing the consequences

What can change him?
Fear, Love, Defeat, coercion?
Why should he be changed?
So that it benefits you?
Benefits your kind?
Why do you perceive else?
So that you recline?
So that you are rewarded?
So that you are dead?

Go back to your farms,
Go back to your sickles.
Go back to your factories,
Go back to your Machines.
Go back to your houses,
Go back to your wives.

Go back, as He is long gone,
He remains no more.
He went when you were busy
He was standing beside you
He wanted to meet you, talk to you
He wanted to cry and say that he is no large
As you are is He, He was no master.

Go back He is long gone
He was other's delusion.
He varied in another's dreams.
He long went, into the last hedge that burnt,
Into the last dry well that was buried.
He remains no more.

Go back to your fields.
Go back to your factories.
Go back to your homes.
Go back!

Just Be.

I walk on the water
towards the horizon.
I seek to melt and become one with you.
I seek to fly alike the flamingos.

Fly alike the flamingos,
wrapped in their pink underneath.
i look the silvery streaks
on the water beneath.

I walk on the water
to see myself with the flamingos.
I bath in the flame of horizon
wrapped under the flamingos.

I seek horizon,
where sky and earth ends to itself,
never to rise,
never to fall,
only to exist...

I fly with the flamingos,
I walk on the water ,
To find this horizon.
where, the skies cease to fall,
the earth ceases to rise,
Are in a ease to be...
Just be.

Digital Delusions

He sits in the chair partly incapacitated due to his age. I can imagine him sitting at his balcony and picturing the birds and the very few people meandering through the roads below as purposeful. He is not sure of his digital camera...but then he just knew that ways of buying and selling were the same and hence he bought it..his veins know the slight pain and clot they have to adhere along to help him take it near to his eyes...He sits in a cold chair heated by the heaters...he sits along the balcony...maybe a little behind and more ahead. I cannot see him and i haven't but i would certainly like to.

After clicking the pictures he places the camera and looks into the shots taken. He has shot many times...he had shot at flying birds like he was doing now and he did not like taking pictures of people...he never shot at people as he had done that many times...
The air gains weight with its numbness and a cold more colder seeps around him. He is used to that...There is not much of a sun shining, just enough to give hope. He might be a bit numb to hope by now.

Yes he is the old man, the left overs of mighty ruins. He is a soldier of his leader alike to the footmen of Ozymandias.
He is someone who walked the long miles in frost and of Frost.
He is someone with a metal plate in his head.

The delusions of WW1 and WW2 are with him now...they had been submerged and dissolved in the ever running moments of time, experience and people. They submerged in the peace after, in the economy after, in the comforts after. But they always came up when there was silence, and silence is eternal...it is the foundation...a necessity for any sound to exist.

Silence identifies Sound.

And now when that silence resurfaces...he is in many delusions as there are noises and images in his head. Only for his head.
And just like wines get better under earth, silence becomes cancerous under head. Imaginations get skewed, many colored glasses gain priority...and when he finds a head without a metal plate, a head with out inorganic screws, a head without delusions, he pukes...
He pukes it to the very earth that gave him, to the very nation that grew him up amongst the snow, shine and beer.
His eyes become clear. He takes his camera and he shoots at the birds again and he is not unhappy.
He sees the bird once more as it still stands and hasn't been fell...the wrinkles adjust enough for a smile on his face
He looks at his camera...he does not have to load the trigger...it was automatic...
Maybe he fears of the coming years...but he is imprisoned and more safe than any birds in his own delusions...
And when he has more of them...he just pukes

He pukes in Bavaria, Germany

Some Pictures of the trip described below

With no intention to arrive

March 24
6:30 am

Alarm rings, and with contempt I snooze it off …only to be woken up by Gaurav, my room mate (who henceforth shall be G). We together work 24 hours a day…him during the nights and I during the day (hmm mid-mornings maybe)…An Impulsive thought: This will not be just another day…after having been an agony uncle and ‘in agony’ for sometime I decided to tear up my daily routine or any routine I had for the ensuing weekend. Yup, a trip, to run away from the honking and bonking cars, chattering keyboards and my mouse which clicks alike dripping water… With these thoughts blipping in the first few seconds after my sleep and forty winks, my day began at 10:30 am.

The Plan, The Strategy, Ya-da, Ya-da…

For the next 90 minutes G and I went around as recruiting troopers in our living quarters but to no avail…they simply were not infected by our enthusiasm. In the end we met one Mr. I-tell-you-where-you-can-go who told us about places surrounding Bangalore namely the Coorg district, Chickmagalore district and of course: Mysore, its surrounding areas.

A skim and glance look-up on the internet told us that Chickmagalore would be a more viable option and we narrowed down on the places in that district. Chickmagalur is a supposedly called a calm and serene town…the latter adjective, ahem I am skeptical about it. Chickmagalur district is a coffee plantation site in the State of Karnataka, India. It is located at 1900 meters (approx) above the sea level and the district encompasses some of the beautiful temples built at the time of the Hoysala Dynasty that ruled South India in 16th C.

The places we chalked in our ‘Desire’ map were Kudremukh (an iron ore deposit), Bhadra Wild-life sanctuary, Kemmengundi (hill town), Sringeri (pilgrimage). The only information in possession: Chickmagalur is 247 kms from Bangalore (Capital, State of Karnataka…the Silicon Valley, Pub City and Traffic Ravine of India).

3:45 pm approx

After having a terrible Chinese lunch, G and I took the auto to the noisy Majestic Bus Depot and had a phantom thought that empty places would haunt us instead of buses (to Chickmagalur).




Yes! There are buses every one hour to Chickmagalur from Bangalore!

With an optimized budget in our hands we got into our seats. My broken Kannada saw us the way through in getting the required tickets and also know from a passenger nearby that it would take us 6 hours to reach there! Well since there was not much to see in the town of Chickmagalore, we had to go some place elsewhere. And now that it would be night by the time we reach we decided to stay put at Chickmagalur.

On the way the ‘Desire’ map was under continuous editions. We cut its corners and flapped its ears and it pretty much had a circular shape when we were done discussing.

We arrived at Chickmagalur at 10:50 pm and settled in a lodging facility which was already occupied by a mosquito army and we became its Fish ‘N’ Chip…L

March 25
6:30 am

Chickmagalur is a small town…with filth and petty shops selling all the things one might not need. At the time we ventured out none of the shops had opened apart from a few tea and biscuit vendors…on enquiring we came to know that shops opened by 9 am.

After my sleepless night and a contradicting one for G (looks like he is insensitive to mosquitoes) we hurried to the bus stand and decided to go to Kemmengundi a hill station situated 55 kms from Chickmagalur town…

The lazy town had its effect on us as we slowly sauntered to find a bus…here again the seats, ceilings and windows were reserved by the mosquitoes. On enquiring the locals, taxiwallas and the-guy-sitting-drinking-tea-smoking-beedi one comes to know that one has to catch two buses to reach kemmengundi. The route: Chickmagalur-Lingadahalli-Kemmengundi.


KemmenGundi

We boarded the bus at 8:15 am and after 15 minutes the place around us started changing and I started having a deja-vu but nevertheless refreshing…the petty shops started retreating back, driven by the shrubs that were growing bigger as we moved on…the wheels trembled as they grained on the remaining asphalt. After the mini-infantry of the shrubs, giant banyans and eucalyptus tree advanced alike the cavalry to remove traces of any commercial leftovers strewn on the ground…

Humans do live but they have to co-exist here.

Smoke from a boiling pot of hot water seemed the only trace of inhabitance around and Lingadahalli was no where in sight and we cared less.

At 9 pm after 45 minutes of a shot-in-the-arm bliss we arrived in Lingadahalli and so did the cows, shops, a small bus stand and its people trying to conquer the whole place by their mere presence.

We received a merry welcome feasted on fresh fruits, stocked our water bottles…adhering to the Indian Stretchable Time (IST)…the bus to kemmengundi scheduled at 9:15 am arrived at around 10:30 am…It was the only bus for the mornings.

G’s Spirits soared higher with the bus, and he was photographing every other cow and tree on the way. I dozed due to drowsiness of last night. We crossed villages like krishnarajapura, Ballavara on the way…

Not to mention, the nature can turn you green with envy, and we were kind of intoxicated and all we could do is hear to moans of the bus and nature belittling us with its silence, the weather was cold and everybody was silent and people called in and called out of the bus at various intervals and we never knew/bothered to ask when we would alight.

And when the time did come we were caught unawares. The bus stopped near a gate…this gate was the entrance to kemmengundi…now whoever could expect a gate for a town! Paying the entry fee of Rs.5 each…we walked through the entrance…

The roads and quality of the same improved and there was a horticulture nursery and trees attired us for the skies…

After we were done with taking-room-settle-down syndrome…we went to the near by map board and realised that kemmengundi is surrounded by hills…further one can go to forests in Muthodi for which one has to hire private transport from here. The hill station had only one phone to talk within the country…our mobile phones failed to pick-up and retain any continuous networks…we bothered about it and then turned numb as we started our hike towards the gardens in a terrace cultivation style.

We further hiked and found ourselves at around 5000 feet, our enthusiasm made it up for the thinning of air out there.

Two main places to look forward at kemmengundi would be

The Shanthi falls
The ‘Z’ Point

A hiking of around 12 kms will lead you to Shanthi falls followed by another 3 kms to ‘Z’ point. We reached atop of the hill and were happy, exhausted.

This place is smaller than a town or even a village when compared to inhabitance rate…there are no ‘people’ living here. There are horticulture nurseries, officials, caretakers, one telephone exchange, around 6 lodges (2 rooms each), one mini bus parking place, one small hospital, a broken watch tower and around 70 (caretakers, officials inclusive) living on a continuous basis. A preserved piece of land…

Sunday, Bloody Sunday…

After a deep sleep under the cold breeze and blankets we woke up like on any Sunday and rushed with the morning chores to catch the bus back to Lingadahalli. We were to go to Billibajangara Hills, Belur, and halebid before returning back to Bangalore. Huge distances were to be covered and a lot to see and do. But the day had something else in store for us.

There is only one bus from KemmenGundi to Lingadahalli in the mornings and people depend on it heavily. Owing to our strict budget we included ourselves under the mercy of public transport. A ledge gave away, or so the bearing in the wheel and the only bus, the hope to wheel away to the nearest place Lingadahalli was 25 kms away, had broken down on the way.

We looked at each other and muttered under our breath, ‘It happens’ and went for a stroll outside the gate of kemmengundi…and then realised that Lingadahalli was 25 kms…the disguised chance showed up as the sun struck mist and the clocks struck noon. We decided to take a walk along the jungle.

A few errors here: we did not get enough water as we thought it would be just 30 minutes of a journey in the bus and in all the excitement of a mini trek we forgot to go back and buy new ones. Sun started to beat upon us and we started sweating in our backs. G was more excited to sight any wild animal by chance but I washed his dreams by reminding him that they come out only in the wee hours of mornings…but nevertheless we walked with feet on ground and our heads brimmed with wonderland images…and of course with an Empty bottle + A black bag.


I was a bit tired and numb with no more plans popping. The ‘mind and desire map’ shriveled with time and so did our strength…8 kms non-stop walk on treacherous slanting roads…and 17 more to go with no water/shop in sight…

In a way it is said reality digresses itself to suck upon myths, legends and stories and make them loose their identity. Here it’s true…As we hiked, on the way we chanced upon a petty stream from a narrow water fall behind a bridge stone. We took our bags and sat there… filled the bottle in the stream…yeah this was mineral water too…

Trekking on further we come to know there is yet another waterfall, a tourist place…yep that meant food and more water…but we weren’t sure of how many more kilometers…The name I guess was Kallatigiri.

Farishta….

Screech…dreeuuulllllll….a car stops by…whisks us by saying they are giving us a lift till the road that would lead to the waterfall and speeds. G’s thoughts play all the Hindi movies and kidnapping sequences, and I plot ways to escape…Scrreeech again, they say 2 kms to the right and you have the water fall. “Good Humans”, muttered G with myself nodding my head. 4 kms done!

We walk up another 2 kilometers to reach the fall, and it’s a fall with a temple of VeeraBadhreshwara below…the water that falls on the steps of the temple has many ingredients namely: water, fishes, plastic covers, pan and gutkha packets, rice, soap, detergents, shampoo, left over pieces of cloth and of course people still adding to the mélange…yeah it’s holy…so G baths in them, I wet my feet along the streams contributing our bit.

Time: 3:00 clock

13 kms to go…

Oh there were a lot of trees, only if I knew their real names and listen to the stories they bear.

A guy in a blue shirt starts to follow us and asks if we are trekking around, I nod my head…he speaks on in Kannnada…G looks to me for translation…

We find out that he had a squabble with his friends only to end up being left in the way… time passes by and we walk…

We reach the village Ballavara by 4:30 pm and still we have 8 kms to go…Blue Boy goes home… exit!

We reach leveled roads and hike on to rest after a non-stop 7 km stretch …Land and places turn arid around and sun starts to set…wasted lands and ravines emerge out of the greenery we left by…we cannot say where the mud wins over its conquerors.

We are tired…we talk about real estate and prices only to fall in silence again…we see yet another 5 miles to go…we sit down and are intoxicated by weariness. Every step gets counted…we walk on…


Farishta arrives again in the form of a tractor…and we get on to it…and we hand them some cigarettes and they are more than happy to drop us at Lingadahalli…all’s well…we arrive and yet life and moments have their twists…we are even to witness an ‘end’ here…

Temperate

Happiness, exhaustion and ruins of our enthusiasm is what we have now…we snack at a desi tea shop nearby and G wants the bus to come…its 6:30 pm and the bus to Chickmagalur is slated to be here (at Lingadahalli) at 7:30 pm…an hour amongst mosquitoes, commotion of the village market and silence beyond that…

I sit and wait and G walks around trying to contact people through the few phone booths around…We walk again to have another tea…asking every person around if there is a bus at all to Chickmagalur…they give affirmative noises and nods.

Sudden commotion brews up in the mini bus stand and all the people gather around…striking match lights at the place where we previously sat 10 minutes ago…G walks up to see if the excitation is caused by some thing or the other that fell out of our bags…(we are tired, disillusioned!!)…

We come to know a patient who had arrived from a nearby village to see the doctor had died in waiting…there is silence…and whole market is filled with hush and the dusk dawns meanwhile…I shift my legs uncomfortable and bus arrives…we sit inside and the seats are filled with few murky strains…the very trees that enlivened me lurk as shadows along the sides...

The run back to Chickmagalur ensues and we are there by 9:30 pm for dinner…we buy our tickets to Bangalore…smiles vanish and exhaustion overcame us…the ride turns rugged…foots swell…and we grin and wince at the same time…but I know there is a peace beneath us…what is it? It’s a smile…a smile beneath the wrinkles of exhaustion…a smile blend with the above experiences however small they might be.

Uncertainities

Thanks to orkut.
I had to scrap a friend and i was about to write the same lines, "yes life's on...guess things are fine...take care". But then, hey! I stopped and for a difference i wrote something that i have been feeling much of the times, i wrote him...
"Dude, hmm quite unnerved by the uncertainities of life :(...guess it will be fine but lets see:)"
Now this friend of mine thought something is seriuously wrong as i seldom put forth such a statement in public scrap books...and he wanted to know more (typical humane attitude) and he asked me what it was and i never replied....

Guess we all have this questions like a noose above our heads....should i do A or B...what they will lead too...why not do something different? But then what if i fail when i do that?...so the questions go on...
I would not want to crib here in this article as it leads to no where....

What i am calling for is...everyone has a want to achieve something...to prove themselves to their selves and we wait for opportunities...Most of the times we regret for things that we have not done than of things that we did. Why not give it chance...put in all your effort and the physics of energy will take care of it. I did that once...and i got it...but it required all my focus and in the go i lost contacts with a few very fine friends of mine. Yes that only emphasizes that u lose some to gain anything...but then how much do u want ur needs...is the question here...

Trust me or rather trust Paul Cohelo for this line which i summarize..."when u aspire to be something/ want something, proportional to the intensity of the want the whole universe conspires around you to get you that thing".

And well if u feel like "am i being selfish"...trust me everyone is, in some way or the other...

We are, We are ALL INNOCENT :(

Venue : 189,000 kms of the coast of google shore webland.

Time: 0.000034 secs after midnight

Event
The single agent of the deterministic thread finds out the goal and the search thread lands up on the below....

The humans had perished, there was none in the planet, none of the humans...not the jesus or the caricatures from the denmark or the non-believers...the museums had been marooned and the space was pointless...the pagans became the stones they worshipped and the rest floated like the mighty air around they believed in...well when this would have happened...did the much talked about flying sphagetti monster ate them all...or did the hitchiker's deep thought was all done and through with the experiment...? Proof was found and u know what some how...damn somehow people became happy and everybody smiled...they found their faith and they also found their caves...they found the oil and they found the green papers...they had everything...some one found purpose...it was in the cleavage of his ass that he did not try to look there all these years!...the purpose was in the ass!...and yes he found it!...and someone smiled reading this...and he had not smiled for a few days now...everybody smiled...omigosh! even the ones who did not want others to be happy...damn he smiled too...because he knew when he did not want people smiling...he just had to close his eyes...damn it was right there and he did not know that...anyways he found that too...he smiled!...even the guy was happy when he knew that the vibrations in his vehicle can form skin collagen fungus as when u touch the vibration...dry skin withers and then they float in the air and in a possiblity when the earth's atmosphere comes in contact with the meteroids and then splits a part of it into the space which then strikes at mars and the same in turn happens and the fungus in the water of mars is returned back to the earth and another guy in west of africa gets the fungus and dies in the same instant when that guy's engine revs up and he is all set to go to the disneyland...the guy who found this was happy as...its not everyday u find something like this!

and the thread was too happy that it found this document and ceased to exist too...hence
Moral: please fight, go to wars...be jealous...blame and unleash the hell and heaven on urselves..worry...because if u try to be happy always and harmless...u just might become extinct...

HAPPY QED: Man...can 'not be extinct' from the above.

But if the above QED proves to be true then man is happy so...the opposite might be true also...
--I hang the scale in the balance...wink and sigh and then run away---

Where are THEY?

Oh where are those valets and mughalai servants...where are the mausis who shroud us victims from our fathers and mothers...where are the next door boys who enable us to run from the woman whose pots we spilled and where are those farm boys who would teach us that clean dirt exist....i miss them as i have not much common with them...their habit is my anxiety and their curiousity is my fear...i see them big and brawnish and me as a puddle of wet sand ever to be displaced by new ideas...they are walls who defend and i am the water looking for the cracks and shimmer and sparkle in the suns glory, as i reappear on the other side...Oh where are they i wail..and i smile...they are just around the corner dear boy, they are just around the corner...do not go there as the sparkling sun in here burns you there and u will vaporise while walls stand... because they are made me to stand and burn... while i am made to crawl and shine...

Whilst i sat smoking in the chair with last drops of tea alike dew i watch him and think about the others...he is tall lanky and yes he is handsome in that folded dhoti of his and the worn out shirt...all his poverty to veil his beauty...the skin of his legs outshine white with its darkness...there are no veins showing because of the old age and no energy characterisation with those pimples on the contrary...he walks and strides along and i wonder what would be to be him...and nothing more...and yes i see my shoes...and his chappals...and he has the world beneath those rubbers and i have the world over me...its so heavy...i cannot hold it in my head...the world is stuck to his slippers for me i hold it on my head...i try to move and i rotate and i try to run, i revolve...oooof my own mysterious ways....

Why do we seek satisfaction? Can anybody tell us how does it feel to be satisfied...has it been used only for the journey and never as a destination...A junction point?
Would be to devalue the life when we say satisfaction. We seek it everywhere...from dust to love...and we find it empty when it comes to satisfaction and when we try to seek in ourselves we find only the want for it and not the thirst quenched...why does one get frustrated travelling in the circles of desire and want for more...have u ever thought of the word 'more'...its so infinte and leads from the present reality to an abstraction that can limited only by something in reality again...like a forest fire that can be put off by the limited sea and the sea limited to the place where it cannot put the fire to a doze. In a world that we are trying to rationalize everything we are not able to logically think about our wants...a logical reasoning could be "i want this and for this i have done this"...and most of the times it isn't as simple as that...Satisfaction, Wish, Desire are the three spokes that keeps the human wheel running and they have to balanced to such a degree between them so that they do not break the rim of life...and we live in the rim and we want to go to the centre of the wheel...but what keeps us from doing that are these three spokes...remove them the wheel crumbles and keep them the centre cannot be reached and with every effort of traversing through these spokes from time to time as wheel runs we travel in circles and so does our wants but then the journey of the wheel/ life is not something with infinite corners to from a circle...the wheel moves in the straight medium of time and the rim wears out and yet the spokes remain damaged/rejuvenated and when the rim comes and so do the spokes there is no center...the center or the concept of satisfaction that is meant to be created by you and not attained...just to keep the wheel rolling...

logic reason logic reason logic reason logic reason logic reason logic reason logic reason logic reason logic reason logic reason logic reason...

1: any reason u write this.....
2: reason!reason! why on the name of the incredulous tamaran do u need reason?...
1:who is tamaran?
2:like ur reason
2: u think reason is the end don't u ...the end point of the begining road just like the flowing river water that starts and ends at the same place...why do u need that...for what u go back to reason...by reason u go back by beliefs u move ahead by putting the past behind you!
1: the present has been built by the reasons involved in the past and the future by the present's reason what makes u think all are mutually exclusive
2:I think not i believe...

Who is watching?

Usually thoughts come to me rushing when i sit in my couch trying to see beyond the TV through the smoke from my lips...the reason: an aversion towards the unseen seeing idiot box...a million times i felt the box watching me more and penetrating into the thoughts of the viewers. trying to read what is going on in their minds and whoop! when the viewer forgets what he had thought about, the box flashes it across thus keeping the viewers anxiety atuned for itys future penetration. Thus the boxes are watching us more intently than ever.

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…