Roolfethnohteetymgnidnirg— Grinding my teeth on the floor

Alarm was working in the reverse direction. But the message was clear. We were planning to wake up just before sleeping.

We were brainwashed, yes. But Ok. I am not satisfied. So, I will tell this story some other time when I feel like.

Shilpa was opening the dickey of her Maruti Suzuki 800. It was raining heavily. No wait. It was bright sunlit day. But will it go with the scenario? I guess may be. But then, what are your surroundings? Ok. It was raining heavily. She picked up both the kids and started running towards the factory.

Can somebody open the door?
Who is it?
It is me, Shilpa. We have two damaged products.
Oh! Is it? Did you call customer care before coming here?
No. It was urgent.

Naah. Leave this story too. It looks rhetoric and bit more hyped up. More than necessary stuff. It is not fitting in anymore. Not going in any direction. Like there is art and there is design. I prefer to be a designer more than an artist but I end up becoming an artist. Art is more of an expression which cannot be improvised or made useful for more purposes. But design can be improvised and made useful in the future endeavours.

But all these stories, blogs, daily articles, and publications are representing art. And mostly, writing can actually build something. It has been considered as one of the most proficient modes of communication actually. So, if we give a twist to this mode of communication; it becomes something else. Wait. Where are we going? Is it a fucking TED talk or a lecture?

Cannot seem to get my hand on what I actually I want to write. So, I am just putting in my thoughts at the moment to build these thoughts into this blog. Am I wasting time here? No! Am I knowing myself better? Am I expressing well? What are my responsibilities as a writer? To keep you engaged. Have you managed to do it so far even when there is nothing in this blog but just trash. But you like this trash, don’t you? Why? Because it is playing with your mind and more than frustration, you are actually feeling the childishness and shallowness in the article.

The curves in that thigh were inviting. Can you zoom in a little bit more? That curve over the knee was definitely something because it grabbed my attention for 10 seconds. Ok. I am literally dragging this article now. Just let me drag it a little because I want to stay with the curves. As I started pretending to be genuine about the curves, my imagination actually kicked in. But I controlled from the bottom of my desires and controlled my emotions for it. It was beautiful. I started my “Aviator” and started looking at the road. Suddenly, it was all sad. So, I thought about the incomplete emotions. How can I deal with it? Writing about it? Yes. So, I wrote this incomplete piece of poem.

You feel I want it, I deserve it,
But then, why something is burning my heart?
For what has vanished, for what cannot be stopped,
Being me is a mistake, maybe, it is a

Leaving it unattended, the poem to recite,
All the pain that was in the first prose,
Goes down to something incomplete,
Just like this prose will enter the

It will be gone like a drop in the ocean,
Clear and profound but still empty,
Closing my eyes won’t help,
Because hell breaks loose to

All this incompleteness, all the glory,
In your name is hidden in your fears,
With all dedicated to shame, sanity,
Release is not possible if

I go home. I get angry. I throw things around. No! Who does that in this sane world. I just feel like it but I have learnt to control I guess. But that does not stop me from being crazy inside. When I realized the art of expression, I was born for the second time. I was open to a world of possibilities. But so many of them.

Still, it is not going anywhere but this alarm started ringing. The dream just ended and we were up right before we went to sleep. The alien around me asked

What is the secret behind your smell?

I closed my eyes. I did not want to wake up to this. Jacob held my hand and closed the doors. He started kissing me. But who is Jacob? Jacob removed my shirt and started smelling me.

What is the secret behind your smell?

Alient was right besides me lying down playing with my hair. Am I woman? Why is alient treating me like a lady? Am I in a different form? Should I get up and look at myself in the mirror? But then, this alien will know that I am awake. But wait! It already knows. I close my eyes again.

Beta! Phone is ringing?
So what! Mother?
Please pick it up
Mom! This is dad.
Tell him I am busy. I shall call later.

I go down. Look at people. Watchman is giving me weird looks. Is he sick or what? But he is sick every other day. Pathetic piece of shit. Will he also ask me the secret behind my smell? Well fuck him. Why am I thinking about him? It is beautiful outside. Oh! That car is honking unnecessirily. So nice. That person is yelling for no reason. There is rabbit shaped cloud being eaten by a lion shaped cloud. Is it judgement kicking in? Why am I seeing these shapes as I perceive mentally or know? No. This is not judgement. This is abstract imagination but it is still limited. I know that it is limited. Limited by something unknown. Do I need to find that unknown?

May be I should just sit at the swing. It is a beautiful feeling again. Not exaggerating the beautiful. Not so far. I close my eyes. I open them and slowly see a shift in colors. They are turning from white and grey shades to whiter shades. It is all going white but I did not do ecstacy. What is kicking in? It is all white like snow on the top of a mountain. There are no buildings. No judgemental clouds. No watchman. No phone. What is it? Are my eyes still closed? I dont know if they are open or closed even if I open or close them. Ok. Let it just be. Let’s what happens. I like such new experiences too.

I look at the small puddle of water near me. I look like a Sadhu with jooda and big white beard. I am all bearded. I close my eyes again. I am standing in front of a river with a lot of other sadhus. Ok enough. I want to get out of this. But that white snow mountain location was better. Let’s go there again. Yes. This feeling of being alone nowhere. Am I safe? Am I dead? But I am feeling this for sure. Yes. I am alive. I shall be safe till I want to be. Or I should just give in and drop myself down the hill. If this is a dream; then, I can fly too. That bird flies past me and comes to me. I look in its eyes and feel the same sense of liberation. She cocks her head and asks delightfully

What is the secret behind your smell?

Oh! This!