a bite of truth

  You have your wife, your kids, your grandchildren, a car, a bike, a home. And now—it all doesn’t matter. You are still empty; still, you don’t know yourself. You don’t have you.

 “Marriage starts after the honeymoon.”

 “Not being excited for anything, yet still enjoying it — that is enlightenment.”

  Marriages are made in heaven, but they never say where the extramarital affairs are. Perhaps they’re also a part of heaven — a forbidden room, maybe — or a tool to send lovers to the actual heaven.

  In my entire life, I have never cheated on my barber — and I still wonder how these girls manage to have multiple relationships.

 "ఏంటి బాబు గడ్డం అలా పెంచుతున్నావ్" ఆతులు పెంచుకుంటే కనపడవు కదా." వాడు మళ్ళీ నా జోలికి రాడు, నేను సచ్చిన రాడు లే. This is how I filter people. 

 When I was in engineering, I found some amazing literature. And after reading some of their works, like, I felt at nights I would walk with Dostoyevsky in his room — fidgeting round and round, lost in thoughts while he poured his mind, making his soul pure. His wife would hit the typewriter like some shots being fired from a gun — the legend he is. And then, after leaving Dos, I would meet Charles Bukowski in a bar. We would be drinking together; mostly, his humour was raw — words flowed like magic. He had the same essence as Dos, but he was a drinker. He never thought about another man he’d rather be — what a soul. As I was not a heavy drinker, I would be down after a half. And then, in my dreams, I would be sitting in a discourse of Bhagwaan Shree Rajneesh. As I would watch him speak, and as I listened to his absolute, my soul would leave my body. And then Mahler’s music is all over. And then, at the end, there is Beethoven’s madness. And then we all would sit together and have ...

  డ్రాయర్ ఉల్టా వేస్తేనే పరేషాన్ అయ్యెటోడు, రీల్స్ చూస్తు సాగం జీవితం సంక నాకిపోయిన, Feel అవ్వట్లేదు.

 మీ ఇంటి గేట్ లు తెరిచి పెట్టడం వల్ల లక్ష్మీ దేవి వచ్చి మీ "కిస్తీలు" (EMI)లు కట్టదు,  మీరే కట్టాలి.

 కొన్ని గొర్రెలు కలిసి ఒక గొర్రెకు పెళ్లి చేసాయి, సంతోషంగా ఉండాలని కాదు, ఎక్కడ బాగుపడతాదేమోనని.

  Ultimately, man chooses to celebrate a festival rather than life itself. Man is so poor that he must wait for a festival to celebrate, instead of celebrating life itself. Man cannot be happy unless he has something to celebrate.

  Even after writing four books, with the fifth on its way and the sixth already here, after analyzing portraits and learning from my watercolor mistakes, painting outdoors as well — I sometimes feel suicidal, with zero satisfaction and an endless existential dread. I might die an absurd death, and I regret being mentally fucked up because of that bitch. Still, I feel useless. And I don’t understand how these rotten, chicken-shit brains can scroll miles through their phones and kill their lives all the way. Chicken-shit assholes — gorre nayallu — how horrible their lives must be.

 Sometimes I just drink lemon tea while everyone else drinks Irani tea. And what comes out of it? Nothing. There must be something. It just makes me feel special. What? Yes. Weird? No, writing about it — and some of them actually reading it — makes me feel so special.

 “I know that I don’t like anybody, and I also know that I hate none. I accept the fact that nobody loves me, and, in fact, the reality of some people hating me. That probably never disappoints me, and that’s the reason for me being happy.”  I only love the dead, and that keeps me safe.

 "People have been convinced that without some new clothes, a vehicle that hasn’t been washed yet, without going to someone’s home or being visited by someone, or by comparing all of these with others, they are not worthy of celebrating Dussehra. But it’s not about any of these—it’s about killing envy, the state of being envious, and the evilness of the mind."

                            *  నీ బండి ఐతే కడిగినవ్ మరి నీ సంగతేంటి.                            ** హమ్మయ్య నా బండి అయితే కడిగేసినా,  నా పాపాలు అన్ని పోయినట్టే,  ఇగ అన్ని బండ్లు ఒక్క దగ్గర పెట్టి,  పూల మాలలు ఏసి, ఒక ఫోటో తీసి,  స్టేటస్ పెట్టేస్తే, అన్ని అయినట్టే.