a bite of truth

  It so happened that somehow I ended up in Kashi, and I was dead, and I was being taken to Manikarnika Ghat to burn my body, and so it was; it was burning, and it didn't even burn half, they threw my body into the river and started burning the other body which was waiting for its turn ever since my body caught fire. And I wondered who would be next—oh, that might be you.

 People want to relate their misery; they want someone to feel what they are going through—their EMI, their school fees, their wife's unfulfilled desires, their sanitary pads. They have to fulfill all of these by holding up what they always wanted. Sadly, whenever I meet someone, if they happen to know me, they ignore me at the first; and the ones who doesn't know me will take some time to ignore. They always find some or the other to express their pain, and the other is also looking for them, ... And I couldn't relate to anyone either. Who is going to talk about music, madness, literature, paintings, papers, brushes, and all the stuff? And now I know that it's better to shut my mouth rather than try to communicate or to relate with anyone, where basically nobody is going to truly understand the other.

  "I  don't know if you are still loving your wife as the day you have met her, or still going to love if she is plotting against you; but I am still going to make art if nobody likes it, and I am still going to write even if nobody is going to read.”

 What are your talents?” “I can sketch. I can do watercolor paintings.” “And what else are you good at?” “Well, I can go anywhere alone, eat alone, go to a movie alone, can stay in my bed without being fucked or without fucking.” “Are you married?” “No.” “Fuck you, mister. Get the fuck out of here, we don’t hire single people.” He must have thought, “It’s hard to control this fucker. He has nothing to submit to—no wife, no kids, no responsibility. He can fight for anything and almost survive without anything.”

 people make babies for different reasons. Some want to ensure that their own blood inherits all the wealth; some do it because they want someone to look after them when they are old. Some make sure they can pass their trauma on, and some want children simply to trash them—because they cannot trash their superiors. But rarely does it happen that they conceive a new being in oneness: in a state of meditativeness, in a state of Shakti and Shiva, in a state of ultimate union. Then a pure soul enters the new being. They do it because they have so much to show, so much to experience, and so much joy of living to share.

  Celebration has something to do with life, not with any date or event. People are celebrating not to celebrate but to eat cake; their eyes are not curious about what's life is going to give them, but their face is full of misery of missing the cake.