There stood he.. On the top of the tallest mount on the white
blanketed terrain..he was faceless.. Even formless.. Hmm.. Whats the
glow that illuminates thy heart.. It’s the spirit.. The spirit of
humanity.. He seems restless like a human..searching for "nothing"..
Something great.. It overflows..for it cannot be contained in
faceless..formless life.

And thus the great, perpetual, eventual journey began. They flew.. The
white terrain longingly coo's for them.. Grudgingly letting go of
them.. Then came the fresh..greeny blanket.. Its like the journey from
the abyss to the base.. Its good to feel this.. This feeling which is
always elusive like anything that is ideal.. The blanket loses it
charm below.. It’s a bit boring..dull….annoying..now.. I had not hoped
for this.. It represents everything that disappoints.. Yes and angry
at it now.. There is blood all over the terrain.. And its hot.. Damn
hot now.. Like the fury of  Mrs.Durga Parameswari.. Is unbearable..
It’s the feeling of falling in an abyss that is worse than the one
which is felt at the abyss.. But it is not infinite.. After all, its
not as good as an NP Hard problem.. I mean the longevity of the
abyss.. It ends .. And how.. In style.. Sorry not style
but..ahuh..ahuh..decile.. It slowly ends.. Climbing through the ladder
of decile.. Low.. The terrain is now a tinge of orangy maroon..
Medium.. Its golden brown… High it’s the colour of deciduous leaves..
Hence the spirit wandered and became as happy as vinayak to find the
white blankets..

There was only one person, they said, who might know everyone else in
the blankets.. They called him something like "god" or "gawd" or
something like that.. Ah chuck it.. He was back… or he thought so..
But the omniknowent, all-present person of the blankets.. Knew .. Yes
he truly knew.. That everyone in the blankets is part of a complexer
than "shutter island", "inception" type of thing..
He knew that those who went out were the ones who come in..

It was seasonal indeed.. The spirit felt the home.. The faceless,
formless state was back..it was a chowk, you turn left.. You are back
there .. You turn right.. You are right back there..

There is no central defence for me to defend why I wrote this. I can
just say that my midfielders plying their trade between my mind and
body have been breached..and the fortress of this heart is broken
down.. And the spirit like heart-break shock.. Found out the
truth..its break enlightened it with the new spaces available even
though there is no garbage collection..  My strikers have finessed
myself to learn this art of ineffectively commuting the thoughts to
motion  and coherent, inherent,intelligent,brilliant flow of words
which anyways ineffectively portraying what was thought to be
conveyed.. I hope I havent left back any of the footballing positions
coz ashley will be sulkier than he is..  Now that’s my field and
nobody can breach me … Ha.. But I am missing the point here.. Yes the
heart-break-shock-like revelation. That it’s a cycle.. The white
terrain. The plush greeny blanket..The bloody red terrain.. The golden
brown terrain.. The faceless,formless dispenses these colours at some
stage or the other.. It does multitasking too.. Hence the colorful
world.. And such colorful minds.. I am happy now that I know what I
really know and what I don’t.. That everything is a
cycle..seasonal..unperpetual.. Elliptical..you can go out and you can
come in.. But you can never leave..


His highness

ps- mail

1 comment:

Rajesh K said...

No.. Thou shall not violate the copyright of the uncopied left over such a silly matter of his highness' mail.. Lest thy shall be honoured to the painfull jackass treatments..