Now, I’d like to stop, and go away. I’ll not talk till I feel like talking.
Now, I’d like to talk. Talk to me. I am talking to you, aren’t I? Why aren’t you talking to me? But don’t talk to me about this and that. I prefer that and this.
Now, I’d like to stop. I am not talking.
Stop making the rules, I said. Either you talk, or you don’t. You aren’t the only one in the relationship. There’s one more person. For a very weird reason, I thought of the East India Company.
I have drowned enough on this long road. The curves, the blind-turns, the slopes, the accidents; I have survived them all. Mountains in the rear-view. Their smile a thumbs-up. Fare well. There is an unpleasant comfort in the rear-view. Known.
It’s the plains now. The road ends, soon. Just a few moments, and I’ll be renewed. A change of clothes, life, fears, friends, emotions, pain, shoes, perspective, future, and a new set of tyres.
But, I won’t turn back.
The problem with fathers is that they die. They shouldn’t. Thankfully, I’ll never cause that problem when I die.
Life shouldn’t be so angry with us. We should not be too (angry with life, i.e.). After we have made a big deal of all the things in our life, we should look at our life.
It will be fun.
Broken bangles in a pentagonal, or hexagonal if you prefer, tube.
We will make our meaning of what we say and chest-thump it for a while, because we are too busy to make sense of history.
All around me it is dark. the only light I see is a glare – the source and the recipient at the same time. Into this source, the small idea comes alive. It gets written in black – in white light.
The way to madness must be much easier, than the way that leads us to keep our sanity. For the path to sanity is crowded – with acquired beliefs and a committed slavery to adhere to those. That madness, which I am sure we all seek, has purity; one that convention denies – where we seek it.
Social mithridatism denies that road to purity.
And our souls will be split in two as we walk two diverse paths in the hope that our-half soul, lost in the crowd, shall come join and become one, become pure.
It all happened in a matter of few seconds. From birth to realisation of reality. I almost did not want to believe it, but I cannot forget those eyes. Everything there could have been a mirage, but not those eyes. They were speaking a truth that I have smothered for long. Not that it will gush out now, but at least the slabs of stone that had compressed it, almost to nothingness, have now been dissolved.
I don’t have to do anything about it, I won’t even. But I cannot, now, relegate it deep down there.