As
sheltered and isolated I’ve been in the past couple of weeks, one cannot escape their own mind, especially the intrusive
thought pyramids that spread like an endemic disease while you’re at your routine reading, or over your cup of tea. The
hegemony of the head ultimately devolves into hegemony of the flesh, which is when your
isolation feels like a curse and you long for company to get yourself rid of yourself. Men of weak character might well end up
first grade degenerates, if left to themselves – Hitler was one, so were the serial killers, or the legendary rapists. One chink in your thought armor might let the disease of the mind flow in. All over a
cup of tea or the newspaper.
I, too, suffer from the affliction of
breaking into the occasional reverie – my stream of life vanishes into another dimension, or perhaps starts retreating as if some
celestial setback came into effect. It hurts when your mental expansion is hollow, much like when a lesser skilled medical practitioner allows air bubbles to enter your
bloodstream; one might think about potency of the serum but there is
just more air inside of you in that instant. Getting carried away has shaped my life, to frankly admit.
In the maze of head all my wars have been won, maidens been wooed, my tents have been pitched and a many deeds done that would have Mr. Alfred Nobel rise from his grave and award me himself.
Forget the conscious world, even my unconscious is
slapping disconnected frames from life together and guaranteeing me a secure and enjoyful sleep. Just this morning I remember waking to an embrace to a woman whom I just fornicated with. But unlike the persistent deviancies of my awareness (at present), my sleep also
splashes my head with other color – yes, literally.
My conscious and subconscious self distracted by my untamed thoughts do not find the time for the world out there – take the sensational murder of some BJP leader in Bihar by his rape victim in broad daylight, or the rending tale of a BSP leader purchasing and repeatedly raping a girl in his custody for over an year, or Wikileaks, or the ongoing inflation in vegetable markets that might have people experimenting with their own ejaculates as a culinary alternative.
Sometimes
the heart willingly beats, certain voices still do stir it up, or certain friends who still rekindle the passions (of geekdom), but it mostly beats almost as a redundant biological device which could
do no worse buried or charred.
HIGH FIVE!//ca. Jan, 2011
Harshly put, this is the foundation to the life that I still secretly pursue. To improve on my version, add the factor of 'pre-liberation' that I've so obssessively patronised.
Was overcome with an unbearable tide of emotions by this evening. To my luck I could sneak away from the office sans a trace. Wiled time at R-City; then later, dismayed at the find that there existed no Shopper's Stop inside - I had free coupons to feed my materialistic minimality - I immediately employed a rickshaw to get me home. Melancholy took hold through the journey - I walked into my apartment in mere folds of flesh, there was a vacuum inside.
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