Body and Soul

If you are Fantacizing, it doesn't matter if she is Pamela Anderson or your Padosan.

Why the soul is wearing this body? I mean, why THIS body only? Why not someone else's?

Also I have never seen my own ass. Or for that matter my brain or my lungs or any inner part for that matter. But they are integral parts of my body. Then if they are taken out and presented before me, will I recognise?

Also when I touch any part of my body, like say my nose with my finger, then whether finger feels the nose or nose feels the finger? And then what is the difference since finger and nose are sensed at the same place in my brain.

And why penis is the only hanging part?

Someone wrote 'Life is there to Live'. What else can you do with it? Paper is very cheap therefore people write. If a sheet of paper is as expensive as an ounce of a gold, then who will write and what?

Afterall trees are the only integral part of this earth. Their roots are firmly attached to the ground. Therefore we call it rooted. But what about all others? We afterall don't have any bonds.

Nipple is circling over the breast. Tongue-tied & twisted just an earthbound misfit, I.

Its 1.32 p.m.

I grew up in a small town. Also had a very close relationship with farmer and the associated community. I have always felt that farmers are the most optimistic souls on this earth. They have to be. The nature forces them to be like that otherwise they will just break down under the tremendous uncertainty.
OK. So the point I started was to do something with farmer. Yes. Farmers generally have buffalows. They either buy a pregnant buffalow (we call her Gabhan) from market or raise one of the calves. (I am not sure buffalow baby is called a calf or not). The buffalow goes on giving milk till she can bourne more buffalows in her belly. At the end of around 3rd quarter of her life she can not give birth as the nature won't allow her (We call such buffaloes 'bhakad'. I am sure people are trying to increase this useful age). Now comes the catch.

Some farmers don't sell these poor souls to butcher. They remain in the stable till the death comes over. Some farmers being very poor can not feed such bhakad animals and are forced to sell them. Some farmers are very calm and cool. They just go and sell a buffalow to a butcher. Have you ever seen such an animal dragged to the kattalkhana. It's a very miserable site to watch. You can just read everything in the eyes of that poor animal.

I always used to wonder what that soul would be thinking? What a great emotional turmoil it would be undergoing? What? What? What?

Today I can feel what that animal goes through. There is no pain. There is no sorrow. It is just a plain end. You just can not think when you get stabbed by the most beloved person. When a person about whom you think 24 hours a day, cheats you, that is something unbearable. The worst part you lose the trust in everything related. And that is the biggest blow. Because there are many things which you do because you trust someone. When trust is over, lot of things in this life slam the door upon you. You are no longer eligible to enjoy them.

But I envy these animals. These souls atleast die in next day or two. I have to stay for much longer. Much much longer.

It is 1.52 pm now.

Once again

It's been a month now I have not written anything. Yes, I was busy. Buried myself into the work. Visited home for a weekend and then another weekend spent in fruitless interview. But hope is the tight rope on which I walk. Work is challenging, sometimes boring, sometimes monotonous and sometimes interesting. It is as complex as a critique on a poem written by another poet. You never know what is the objective. Is it written so that reader can understand and appreciate the poem or will get more confused and will say, "hey man, the poet wants to express this through these lines but has written totally irrelevant to highlight the irrelevance in the life of the common man which is symbolized by the crow sitting on the branch of a banyan tree on the banks of a river. Now why Banyan tree and that also specifically on the river bank. Here lies the intensity of the portrayal of the life in this world......................................................".

The point was complexity and nothing more and nothing less.

Rest of the things are moving on with the usual pace. When I am not working I think of them. Then I become sad. These days I am entering into a shell whenever such an emotion grips me. I should not do so. I should fight. But that is not happening. I have to find a solution. Hope is the tight rope walk. I am not able to concentrate on my daily reading routine usually before going to sleep on my bed. I open the book and thoughts surround me. I start grand Soliloquies which I know for sure will never come out of my mouth in front of her. But I cant manage to resist the temptation.

Whoever is going to read this, keep two things in mind:
There are very few people in this world who think about us 24 hours a day. And in such a short life the probability of finding one is very low. So don't miss the second chance if you have already missed one.
Thing no 2: This is my personal opinion but may be worth giving a thought.
I won't be sad if nobody remembers the moment I spent with him/her in their life. But I dont want anybody to remember me as a person who just used him/her for my own sake and then kicked out the relationship. I am certain that I dont want anybody to remember me like this ever. And I would be extremely satisfied if there will be no such person cursing me when I am lying on my deathbed for my selfishness, and at that moment I will not give a damn if there will be nobody in this world who will even bother to stretch his/her memory to think who the hail was this santa.