Welcome to the story of nothingness

Everyday I wake up to look into live screens or dancing letters of a book and then subside onto my bed to have thoughts about everything.The everything includes somethings that I know and somethings that I have never seen or understood,and then smile at the very meaning of meaning itself. Alas,what a life I have, I would welcome myself to the world of meaning or in other words,the world of nothingness. I would play a scene with my thoughts, we will be looking into our eyes, smile at each other,finally we will try to convince where we are and the meaning of existence. I would strongly oppose the definition of self,existence and thoughts, then the alarm would remind me that its 7 am in the morning and I would doze off from world of thoughts since its time to embark to the life of living beings. Welcome to the story of nothingness or the story of everyday man who has the luxury to  think.

From thoughts 1: Collective identities

I am a living being, I am a mammal, I am a human being, I am cognitive, I am Indian – the effort to project our identity to collective forms seems to be a basic feature of our survival. The collectivism promoted by the social setup or individualism supported and nurtured by certain societies , the society seems to have some sort of collective identity in terms of religion,race,color or some attribute based on which we form collective identities. 

It might be a natural decision of an evolutionary species to keep in check the radical growth of disorder in our society thereby keeping in control the predictability associated with our system. 

The identities ,the crisis associated with identities, and friction between various collective identities can create various different patterns of human society.This is observed by an individual when he plays his role in a group.

The collective identities can provide an individual some kind of role which will allow him to perceive an end to journey. A kind of elegant full-stop to a poignant poem and falling for the pit is every poet’s dream. 

The ever-changing​ role and identities in an individual can bring about radical changes in one’s behaviour .

A little

Little is known, but a little is known

The world is hungry and yet we yawn

Because we know a little that little is known

Where we are, from where we came are

questions to sleep ,we are alone yet we are not

We made ourselves yet we are  unsure

Little is known, because a little is known.

Die hard my thoughts,for it time for new to be born

Yet I weep for my thoughts because what am I

They only know that

Little is known about a little is known.

Gift

Man:”What gift do you need?”

Woman: “I want you to take me to a fish market where they don’t sell good fish, it should have that typical stinking smell at its extreme level or take me to purana Dilli railway station where men and faeces are the same or take me to any of public’s waste disposal sites in Cochin.Take me to filthiest of the places.”

Man: “Then?”

Woman: “Tell me about me,tell me that you love me.I want to hear it”

Dear You,

Dear You,

A pen,a piece of paper and lot of tears ..thats where i started writing this letter..The last letter that I would be sending you in my life time.You remember that day when we had that huge fight to finalise on your “favourite colour” as a response to others question about it.You wanted others to see you special.. .I remember that day very well.You wanted to tell green,less people used the colour,you thought its a special colour.The fight went on and on,the words became sharper and harder..And i remember when i called you an imposter.With that single word,you fell to earth and cried with your head down..I hugged you so tightly that you cried like nothing and went on crying for half-an hour.I held on to you..We held our hands and told everyone that your favorite color is green..

Oh..memories are flowing ,poring down the lanes of lost life..I remember everything..every single act of ecstasy…Remember that day,you wanted to have that cup of tea that was supplied to our class teacher during a class.Perplexed,curious about the taste and aroma of teas,you wanted to have it.You were shy..i remember when you told me your wish,you were blushing and kind-off afraid.You remember how i urged to ask her and how you went to her and asked her…That sparkle of innocence you shared with me..It was overwhelming..
You remember that day when you said that you love a girl more than myself.Even with that lie in mind,i was happy for you..You remember her,don’t you…The girl behind the veil..I remember you ecstatic love towards her..your eccentric way of communication with her.I remember how you used to immerse her in love.I remember how you could dinner,supper and anything you like just to think about her. and i remember how you crumbled when she left you with erased words in a piece of paper.You did shut down your mind and even quit talking to me.
I injected in you the thoughts of life and complexities of a simple universe.I introduced sex,lust,science,art and i sat with you.We read Ptolemy’s work,we met sea god of philosophies,we met the honour and the depth of each other,we ate together and we grew up together.We never talked to each other about us,but we knew we were the closest friends that we has for each other.Did you forget that?
College life went like a rocket to space.Fast,straight, and sometimes out of orbit,we reached here.Here is where you said to me that you want to leave me.You want to end the miserable life of ours.
I suppose you dont seem to nurture the same love i have for us.I always wanted you to follow your heart.I always wanted you to live free with preconception.I wanted you to enjoy the stream of thoughts that anyone would possibly have without distinctions and difference and prejudice.And after all the years we spend together,you wanted to leave me.

Dear you,I am not waiting for you to leave me.I am going..Next second after the next,i am reduced to nothing but your memories,and that because i chose to die rather than to leave your hand.
I am writing this,neither to inform you about my demise nor to force into changing anything.

I want you to know something,on that day,I didnt wanted you say you favorite color as green because you were always special and you dont need the ornament of material and immaterial specialities to support that.You were always special.I was happy for your love towards that girl because,in that love,there was everything about you being special.

And when you join that corporate company tomorrow to take a desk job leaving behind me and all other wonderful thoughts you have.Never remember me,because you will feel the immense pain of losing you and you will suffer more

With loving regards,
Yourself