Monday, October 19, 2015

A full bite

Today I visited with my beloved husband ... A Dentist !

After little check up (which is for beloved husband) both of us with Dentist went to his office.. was a nice scene behind his office chair..I saw it with aww....

He had decorated all kind of teeth with gums (which must be plastic made . . . I mean not original ) on the wall with caption and sizes printed in small white plates beneath every set.

I tried to take a selfie but seeing that my beloved husband after having removed his tooth ....not in the least mood of showing any enthusiasm to the dentist I kept the notion with me and move a bit away from the gentlemen talking about what to do next and how to prevent remaining teeth....

Suddenly a thought came into my little brain... a certain age....not all but most of us will loose their teeth one by one....(exception is with those who'll die very young) and its a sad fact.

Then I realized that all my life I have led a toothless life....its like I lost my teeth at very young age... I always keep myself aloof....watching and observing other people's moods and views...

A toothless absurd....

I have never bitten into anything....I was waiting....kept myself clean....always reserved and patient....

I was reserving myself for later on . . . and thats what I will keep doing in future...and may be one day suddenly I will realize that all my teeth have waiting....and in vain....

Whats to be done ?

Isn't this unfair ?

Thus I made up my mind....I...HR....went back to the gentlemen who were by now standing by the side of the office table and was talking continuously about the same thing....politics....

I asked Mr Dentist to come out of his sphere and while he did ...I went behind the office table and with a nice smile displaying all my front teeth....having wall of teeth behind me....took a SELFIE.

I wouldn't mind if both of the gentlemen consider me least I will remember this day that on this one occasion I used my teeth ...hmm....and took a full bite.

Saturday, October 10, 2015


As I was trying to cross a busy road today I saw few old men hand in hand also waiting by the curb to cross together.

Although they were together laughing and smiling making small jokes on each other but I felt that actually they were very very uneasy.

I could see that in their worn out faces and deep milky eyes like they…one to all…. were missing something….

What was that?

What is actually they were missing at that moment…a stick….an umbrella…or….what else?


Freedom to be alone…to have one’s own space…freedom of being not under any obligation…but this is not what they want….now…they like to be with people…young or not young all the same….they now like to be loved…cared…hugged….they don’t want to be free anymore.

In my present age …I can give up human beings very easily …. I think I can and actually I did get rid of few of the very bad relationships…. calmly.

It never occurred to me that one day I might start missing all those forgotten or thrown away people.

I might remember every detail …I might feel guilty of being so cruel…. I might see myself alone and would never find anyone to love…care or hug me.

One day I shall also with my frail body and all the time forgetting mind find myself alone by the curb and would not remember that either I am to cross the road or already have done that….

I might also miss something or someone but will not be able to name it.

Right now…I like to be alone….all by myself….alone in the house…alone by the road…shopping…reading….routine work…all alone….but….would I feel the same when I get old?

OLD ? Am I not already old ?

I really don’t want to be an old hag….

I really dont want to feel sorry for the choices I made.

I really do...want to die before this Freedom of mine becomes my slavery.

The source of my suffering and loneliness is deep in my heart.
This is a disease no doctor can cure.
Only Union with the Friend can cure it.

Rabi´a al-Adawiyya, translation by Andrew Harvey and Eryk Hanut – ‘Perfume of the Desert’

Monday, October 5, 2015

Free Man's Worship


This is the reason why the PAST has such magical power. The beauty of its motionless and silent pictures is like the enchanted purity of late autumn, when the leaves, through on breath would make them fall, still glow against the sky in golden glory.
The Past does not change or strive; like Duncan, after life's fitful fever it sleeps well, what was eager and grasping, what was petty and transitory, has faded away, the things that were beautiful and eternal shine out of it like stars in the night.
Its beauty to a soul not worthy of it, is unendurable; but to a soul which has conquered Fate, it is the key of religion.  

To every man comes, sooner or later, the great renunciation. For the young, there is nothing unattainable; a good thing desired with the whole force of a passionate will, and yet impossible, is to them not credible.
Yet, by death, by illness, by poverty, or by the voice of duty, we must learn, each one of us, that the whole world was not made for us, and that, whoever beautiful may be the things we crave, Fate may nevertheless forbid them.
It is the part of courage, when misfortune comes, to bear without repining the ruin of our hopes, to turn away our thoughts from vain regrets.
This degree of submission to Power is not only just and right: it is the very gate of wisdom.

A Free Man's Worship,
Bertrand Russell.

Age of Reason

I must be free:
I must be self – impelled, and able to say:
“ I am, because I will: I am my own beginning. “

He has waited so long: his later years had been no more than a stand-to.
Oppressed with countless little daily cares, he had waited: of course he had run after girls all that time, he had traveled, and naturally he had had to earn his living.
But through all that, his sole care had been to hold himself in readiness.
For an act. A free, considered act; that should pledge his whole life, and stand at the beginning of a new existence.
He had never been able to engage himself completely in any love-affair, or any pleasure, he had never been really unhappy: he always felt though he was somewhere else, that he was not yet wholly born.
He waited.
And during all that time, gently, stealthily, the years had come, they had grasped him from behind: thirty four of them.
He ought to have taken his decision at twenty-five.
Yes, but at that age one doesn’t decide with proper motivation.
One is liable to be fooled: and he didn’t want to act in that way.
He thought of going to Russia, of dropping his studies, of learning a manual trade.
But what had restrained him each time on the brink of such violent break, was that he had no reasons for acting thus.
Without reasons, such acts would have been mere impulses.
And so . . . he continued to wait . . .

(Jean –Paul Sartre ~ The Age of Reason)