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Kachha Muchha, Meccha Kuchha

Previous short story:
The Red Gauze
Next short story:
Death: Better Luck Next Time.

Waging a war with the mind, the mind-- the source of existence, a part of me and one of mine, good and evil comes hand in hand, right and wrong, with pain and pleasure. Both as one, one as both, each paths lead to a different rendition. The key is to refrain from and to not give in, to make a choice and stick with it… though easier to succumb to desires. The mind, the thoughts, invisible and non existent, cannot be seen, nor be removed…reigns with significance, Cogito ergo sum (I think therefore I am).

 Of selfish individuals by default, growing and learning, corrupted and polluted, to fight against the self within, either the mind to stay in control or to be controlled, controlled by needs and desires, so treacherous and poisonous, the mind a mystery, capable of good and evil.

 The witches: the devil takes a rest when you go to work, so wicked, evil, and inconsiderate to others. The worst of kinds, the cruelest in times, who do bad deeds and not realize it.. delusional and full of darkness but perceive herself as a subordinate angel. Pathetic and powerless --to bow to the prowess and be humbled by her wrath. To think of escape and to get away from, but its nature of the world to encounter more people of evil, she remains undisturbed, remains unperturbed and rules her kingdom with traps and treachery. One would think that old age, children and a good life would bring out a better, nicer human soul, but no, it is a mine field out here, filled with insecurity and fear in here. And here you’re immortal. You walk and it explodes, walk and it explodes, you die and you live and you walk and it explodes, creating a simile of a thing called hell.

 The attitude of helplessness brings one to feel a whirlwind inside. Powerless and as a outcome gets pregnant and gives birth to the word pathetic, without a choice, opportunity-less, penny-less, a resolve that is hopeless, this burden seems cease-less.

 They deal amongst themselves, dwell amongst themselves, these kings and princess, powerful and ominous. To account to the amount of respect they’ve earned from which they earn. 

The laws of the world biased and prejudiced. Today it is made of things; unfairness and inequality, Stuck in a war, with no definite answer. To emerge as a victor appears unattainable. For the wrong reigns and the right seems wrong.

 A test of faith, of belief and disbelief, of taking a stand and making up the mind, which involves the living and everything therein, Patience runs low, ignorance runs high, the time bomb ticking, the heart starts aching, and calamity ascending, unprepared and wavering, pained yet still wavering.

 By default, one aspires and transpires, to become an object of pursuable desire. But I, I have deviated, I am corrupted, caught up with people who trade their souls for a imaginary pride and for gold, the rat race continues in the realm that doesn’t sleep.

To think otherwise seems useless, alone in thought and alone in path, so burdensome and weakened by the weights on the shoulders, crawling on fours while others walk high, with their heads held high and a walk that of the mighty, in arrogance and ignorance yet high and mighty. 

Attempt and try, think till you drop, without a fruit to talk about, failing and wailing seems no availing, a preventive measure, barred by the curse of the maker. 

Standing and hoping, looking and seeking, longing and waiting, for free will and freedom, for some inaccessible, impossible and unreachable, like a dog without a bark, an animal in a cage, a man devoid of freedom. 

The heat, the hot, the scorching humid, continuously heating for a stretched time, awakened and weakened by the dry air. The head now feels like butter in a pan, weak, weakened, affected and ineffective. Effecting and resulting to fatigue and restlessness, crankiness and moodiness.

 The heat a slow but definite killer, what good; the pleasures of the world when the mind stays in relentless trouble?

 But the hole punctured, gets deeper and deeper, the consciousness appears to remain unaffected the subconscious begin to demonstrate its effect.

 And yet again, the heat retreats, the mess to cease, the glum memories to fade, resulting into calm and serene.

Hope emerges, and happiness begins to shine, a tranquil image starts to re-appears; to soothe, to bring a smile back forth, the heart enveloped with knowledge and wisdom, producing an un-fearing and confident soul. For now it seems steadfast and steady, to forget and to get past the past. To justify what is unjustifiable, with patience and perseverance. Fresh air, green land, flowers and fruits, 70 virgins and rivers and honey; all are images of what seen as desirable and pleasurable. A simile, a metaphor, symbols that signifies satisfaction and happiness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

Previous short story:
The Red Gauze
Next short story:
Death: Better Luck Next Time.
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about the writer

Alam

Often seen as cold, bitter and distant but in reality is cool, sweet and not very distant..haha Sometimes I feel like saying what Kierkegaard said, People understand me so poorly that they even dont understand my complain about them not understanding me. On the other hand often I assume of understanding people completely...so i guess its a given or an irony or something else..depends on how you see it..
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