To be or to un-be

There's something about this feeling called 'feeling'.

Have you ever stopped and given a thought as to what happens inside your body and your mind when a particular stimulus is hurled at you. As a reflex you basically react to it. Physically, mentally any which ally... they're all inter-connected. One leads to the other. A classic example is the kiss. I remember when this man kissed me it completely took over my senses. How strange it is that the entire mind blanks out and focuses only on that particular feeling and connection.

When i see maimed children and old persons begging...it tears at my soul. I become numb. It hits the mind first and you are unable to think beyond the sight that you see. it then gets hold of your body and you are rooted. transfixed. Then the feeling of sheer helplessness takes over. You are aware that there are certain things that are beyond your control. This awareness damns you even more. Sometimes, acceptance can be your greatest enemy because it stills your growth.

We meet a person. We realize very soon that this person has everything that we've ever wanted. we're happy. but then doubts assail us. we start suspecting this happiness. we wonder whether we are destined for such happinesses. and then...we go ahead and put an end to it. wow. in the age of stupid, stupids thrive and make others stupid. There's a lot of confusion these days. Men want women who are strong, independent, (some like their women nasty), intelligent...but then... when confronted with such a one..they draw back all scared and frightened. It is quite strange. I mean...whaaa???

I remember having a conversation with this really arrogant and smug Bengali man. He goes..." Im afraid but men are soon going to be redundant." I stared at him. I'd actually tolerated him for 3 days and at the end of it I had decided that I will give him one last chance at redemption. Sigh! I waited for him to continue.. "I look at it this way. Man at 3 levels has been thwarted by women these days. Man as Protector. Man as Predator. Man as Procreator. Women are emerging on top at all three levels. It is shaking the very foundations of our ancient beliefs." I continued staring at him. I was really tired of him. And stretching the conversation would have meant having to listen to him. But a feisty (and super sexy) Bengali woman came to my rescue. She stormed at him.."So..you mean to imply that women HAVE to be suppressed...blah blah.." That was my cue to escape and i gladly took it. The look on his face was worth shooting (with a camera and a gun).... :-))) ... but you know i liked that Procreator, Protector, Predator funda.. hahahaha...its almost like the Holy Trinity...

Are we having fun yet?

In a corner of the world... she sits cowering...gazing terrified at all the happenstances...whirling past her..flinching at the slightest sound, eyes and mouth open wide, but the scream is silent...shreds of torn black silks fallen around her...like dead black birds...

Debris on the road...dumped metal heaps...a half building bent with shame... the explosion devoured its roof...a man on the road, a gun shot, bullet ripping through him, he flies without wings, body arched, hands hanging limply, head thrown back, a question in his eyes, "did i just get shot...???" little does he know that he's dead...

An underground basement...monotonous tempo...thud thud thud...strobe lights flashing, purple, blue, green...eyes closed, bodies swaying, lost to everyone, maybe themselves too...

She lies there, black silk sliding off a white shoulder...film of sweat on the rounded curve of an arched breast, head on the arm of a plush purple settee, hair touches the floor, mouth parted wide trying to steal the already depleting oxygen, sinuous body curved like cupid's bow reaching into him, head slowly sliding off the arm of the settee, almost touching the floor...exposing a neck that deserved to be ravaged, legs entwined around him, tantalizing glimpses of a milky white thigh...

He gazes down at her...dead eyes, muscles taut, rippling, a finger following the path made by a drop of sweat, down the flawlessly shaped neck...a neck which deserves to be ravaged, his jaw tightens, teeth gritted...a neck which has been punctured...mini-wounds...desperate search for veins to plunge the needle in...the knife is in his hand, sharp serrated... he surveys her body lying beneath him, the arched breasts, the soft skin shaming black silk, the submission...a hand grips and curves around her vulnerable throat finding the pulse...fluttering heartbeat...the knife shimmers...

She sits there cowering...in one corner of the world...they had warned her about him...but she was powerless...the knife wound on her thigh a testimony of what might have happened if she had not snapped out of the haze...she wondered why she picked up the gun when she left her apartment...

As he took flight he gazed at the sky...a million stars came tumbling down on him...he saw an up-side down world...he saw her face...the gun falling down from her hand..."did i just get shot?"