Truth of Bizarre

Truth of Bizarre

I hate love. So does it. Well, it all begins with the culture that victimizes us. We are so well persuaded by out culture that it gradually looks like our own. It then vehemently makes it way to our veins and arteries and thus we feel the presence of god sitting at the center of out hearts. We thus submit ourselves, or at least a part of it to the almighty god, who is supposedly supreme and the absolute.

To my knowledge, I have never encountered anything even close to absolute. My conscience can never give up to believe that there exits an Absolute. I still believe the Einstein’s theory of relativity and admire it to the fullest. Only the ultimate is real and rest inharmoniously fall pray to Deception that is quite like, my imagination, a bottomless well with a gravitational force equivalent to that of a black hole. It’s as deep, like faith, wide as a pool of mercy and high as hopes.

I am pretty sure that you won’t choose to surrender yourself to the deceptive arena. At this instance, I find myself in a precarious situation where its easier said than done to draw a microscopically visible line between Me, Reality and My own self.

On the contrary, I am so much deluded to believe that there exist other entities apart for me that resemble me. This frightens me. I suddenly become so lonely that all my relations and associations reach to an absolute zero. They don’t exist at all.

The ground reality is that the relations are important if you give them due importance. Metaphorizing it as a mass of silk thread gives the real picture of one that has lost its entity after tying a knot. You may be part of life that in due chores of living will have that forbidden pleasure of combing down through the mass very smoothly. And to much extent, occasionally. This will definitely hold true if you are geared up to deceive yourself.

Our preparation for death starts right from the day we inhale and exhale for the first time. The greed to attain salvation at its earliest makes us hard to believe that we are actually alive. And this compels us to dedicate our life to the process of cleansing out soul through the positive deeds that have been queuing up since last so many years, just to make the neighbors envy and grab the earliest available seat in a low cost airlines that takes us directly to the entrance to the salvation.

These good deeds by and large depend on all those fucked up epics and holy books that are believed to have been composed and written long before we invented printing press, pen or for that matter paper. Even before humans existed on the planet. And to much extent, on your conscience.

Why do you think that I may find it tricky and quite confusing to decide what is good for me and what’s not as an individual. Do we need a benchmark to decide the quality of life that I have kept in?

I ask you that why do you need to monitor the parameters that decide my due chores of life? Believe be man! You are the best in your own perspective. But I give a damn care to it unless it’s somebody like me. For a while let constant be that only change.

Let my life be a repository of hate enveloped by the intricacies of love and affection. You dig it hard, and you are bound to suffer eruption because I do travel, but seldom down the ring of fire. But only when my adrenaline wants me to do so. Let me selfish enough to love my own self and compassionate enough to hate you. This gives a meaning to my life that I really hate love.

I thus dismiss the absolute and will be the absolute.