Skip to main content

Oh! how she liked it?


Sitting her self on the perimeter of a beautiful fountain, Ursula wondered how trivial her life was. Clouds overhead dissolved into one another, gaped at her, made funny faces, and retreated into the great body of sky. Great body of water before her silently observed as if in muse, blankly stared at her, through her, and she felt disembodied, formless, sitting there, she felt invisible to herself, existing only in the moments of action, but otherwise dissolving into the surroundings. She summoned all her substance, when an external object called in question, but otherwise she remained formless, non-existential. Time, what does she care about time, she did not like intoning those words to a stranger, but she did, ten past seven, stranger was pleased, and she disembodied again, dissolved into molecules, she did not want to exist, if it was for dispelling time to strangers, the world could live without her, she was insignificant, world doesn't need her, her presence is ephemeral, she lived on the surface, she shared no access to the core, she wondered if there was a core to the world. Water flowing downstream amused her, where to? She asked her self, and why? This constant flow, perpetual exclusivity, how she is kept unawares of all the flow, she is detached, she is not an inclusion in the flow, she dreaded the thought, repulsive, despicable, and notorious. clouds descend , stoop to look closely at her, drawing with them, a sudden bleak darkness, shadows of spite weighing down on her, numbing her senses, compressing her room, forcing her to exist again, but she did not want to. Nothing makes any sense now, her trivial existence. Her insignificance burdening her, pulling her emotions asunder, fighting the enveloping waves, cramped her room from the forces exclusive from her existence, she regained her existence, but this is an infinite regress. Oh! How she liked it, when she could not exist anymore.

Machine humming to life bored Ursula, it bothered her that man counted making the machine in his list of accomplishments. It did not matter; all time is lost, and lost into the farthest corners of the propensity. she hesitated, but she had to do it, she removed the wall clock, dumped it in the waste basket, stared at the polished whiteness on the wall that retained the features of clock, the purity of it lifted her with evanescence, she was pure, she felt the purity on the wall, touched it, caressed it. Then it occurred to her, something protected her, or someone or she would be impure by now, but she was pure, as white as the whiteness on the wall, but who protected her. Her obtuseness gave way to crisp vision; she looked through the wall, no signs there. It did not matter; she was trivial, insignificant, and unnecessary. Then she thought, ironically, it did not matter that 'it did not matter' for it just did not matter. She should drown herself in a sea, gracefully depart, but, where to?

Sound of music lifted her up in air, swung her hither and thither, she felt the ground beneath her slipping far away, receding faster than the speed of light, and she lay there hung up in mid air, no one beside her, no object in her vision, she experienced vacuum, she could not feel anything, not smell anything, only hear, and hear with each sound wave diffusing into her body , crests lifting her up, troughs pushing her down, as on a saddle, but her room constrained, pressure increased, volume went up, she billowed in waves, with ebbs pulling her into a wormhole, and then suddenly, sound of music shot through her ears, pierced through them, squeaking past her, wither? she prepared herself, as the wave approached, she caught it inside her head, trapped waves bouncing inside blew open the throat cover and flew downwards through her neck pipe into the stomach, dissolved into blood, superimposed with the arteries and flew voluptuously throughout the body, reached the ends of toes and fingers, lost their intensity on their way and finally subsided.

Music interested Ursula; she found crickets chirping and sound of night ingratiating. Horses galloped rhythmically, wind swooped and placated, water sprinkled smoothly, crisply. All these sounds evolved over a period of time into tapping our senses enchantingly, she thought. she sang, millions of nerves released their pent up tension and she sang fully, she sang gorgeously, she sang facing the sun, she sang with her face inside water, she sang pouting her lips, seductively, she made faces ominously, and she sang and sang.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Room number 713...

When she heard the sound of scrabbling under her bed she gaped in horror. The roof was no longer there and the sky was crammed with stars. The yellow lamplight had its neck twisted and the light was dimming, a dark hairy whisker of shadow creeping up to swallow everything. The sliver of light coming in through the parting curtain was the only thing remotely consolatory in the creepy hotel reminiscent of horror movies, old and new. The wooden cabinet shook and the drawers slid out, one after the other, like the many tongues of a hysterical creature of the nights. The clothes hanger slid to a side and revealed the crack in the wall beyond. She tried the light switch but obviously it was not working. The bedspread was damp from something that was not hers – an ache spread through her limbs, paralyzing her, bolting her spine to the cot. A whiff of chill air snaked through the open fisheye hooks of her blouse, circling her rigid frame, raising the hair on the back of her nec...

The moth that covered my face!

My dog came prancing and dancing towards me, I started petting him almost impulsively, took his ears and rolled them over his head hither and thither, stroked his forehead, he was enjoying my attention blushingly perhaps, and he leant his head downwards and was swaying around to get the most of affection. And, suddenly he leapt forward with his hind legs brushing my knee cap, I looked over and he was merrily teasing a moth which apparently fell over on its back and was trying desperately to climb back into a more modest stand. Well, anatomically speaking, the moth had a curved back, smooth with shiny plate like outer skin that extended from front to rear forming quite an armour. It had tiny legs, it was just too hard to find out how many though, drawn so close to the body in a twisted tangled mess, it looked as if, the insect was bothering perhaps a little too much about its legs. On any other occasion, the moth would have leisurely entertained me with its physical theatrics, but this...

Entrenched Prejudices taking the form of Patriotism

What a great way to celebrate the Independence Day? I am bemused, apparently owing to the wide exposure of emotional experiences hitherto seemed innocuous. Delve a little deep into the acquaintance with idea "patriotism", one will invariably be granted with an uncalled inquisition, one gets to stare at a disconcerting vacuum. Why do we brand ourselves with nations that are a mere collection of geographically propelled, culturally augmented, self aggrandizing people? Answer is elusive to many for the reasons best known to them hitherto for their own good are turning skeptical now. Man whom the evolutionists assert shares a common ancestor with chimps and gibbons, naturally after parting his ways with his cousins (chimps, gibbons) choose to retain a comprehensive emotional, physiological and mental disposition. Man, if he ever chooses to embark on a space ship that supposedly travels back in time is bound to diminish his self esteem owing to his impromptu urge to track his ance...