Saturday, February 19, 2005


What is it that one searches for?

Like a cold desert wind tiny words chill your bones for no reason at all..

You live in the cracking paint of indifferent walls of a home that isn't really there at all…

You just imagined it because you would have liked for it to be real…

You need to have a definition all of a sudden, they tell me that there is a gargantuan thing called an identity and it's made up of several things that one can list down as matter of factly as the grocery list that you might have made as a matter of the day's course…

Let's talk about the first thing that anyone will ask you

- Are you gainfully employed?

Yes that is one of the things that paints the picture that everyone else in this world is supposed to identify you with…

What is the point?

The point is success? Now is it?

Is it the fact that you are supposed to be this person doing all the right things at all the right times and doing it at the satisfaction of everyone that you know and happen to have the good fortune of knowing…

What do you want to do?

Right now at this moment…

REALLY what would you rather be doing?

Would you rather be some place in the past or may be some place in the future… anywhere but here like the movie title goes … and they will tell you that you are supposed to be living in the present all the time… I wonder why? What is the great mystery of having to live in the present and what is the great compulsion to do so for that matter. Why the guilt when you take time to sleep just for the sole purpose of having a dream that is so bizarre and unreal that it beats the daily reality of life any day….

What is the point?

The point is survival? Now is it?

To live is to eat everyday and make sure that your heart beats regularly and you get enough sleep and exercise…hmmm … one wonders about that, now if that's what it's all about then why do I need to have new shoes so badly? Do I need them or is it the picture, the unfinished picture of me that needs those shoes

Those shoes that are preferably with high heels like the one some vague image of a supermodel wears or the kind that one sees on women with 22 inch waists, you don't wear shoes because of your waist now do you? But it's better when they are supporting a 22-inch waist… right?

And then another time you may be in the trap of doing what it is that you would have been doing had you not been in the so called ' middle classness of life' that's a phrase someone I know uses ever so often and he gets me to wonder… is it really the mosquitoes and the stench that make you want to leave a place? Isn't it always the people that want to make you want to pack your bags. Isn't it the fact that you would rather not be in a situation that needs you to be in a state of permanence of any sort because there is the monster of boredom waiting at the other end of the rainbow.

So what would you want to do. Leave one piece of earth to go to another one and then begin the search for that elusive 'quality life and quality time'? What? What? What? What is it that you really want to do, no matter how many times you ask yourself that and no matter how many times you get an answer…. You will never have one that might satisfy you completely…. Simply because you are growing yes growth that indecency is growing in the physicality of your being.

Growth is that process which makes your skin stretch and your mind run faster than your skin is stretching till the time that they can't keep up with each other and that may either result in the state of ' unwell' Unwell will be in the beginning of the physical kind till it begins to affect the ends of your nerves and such things. After the nerves have been corrupted you will in all probability die and that would not be so bad cause then you could go to heaven or hell and ask another question like

What is the point?

It's the same thing you see… this never gets over and it never leaves you … you just grow and then you die and then you grow some more and then you come back as a cow and you wonder why are these strange two legged people insist on depriving my child of the milk that's meant for him and then killing me for food when they could have had potatoes and coke instead.

What is the point?

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