Its been a long time since I penned down something. Days are going by. My big brother, the timely 'time' has been keeping an eye on me all the time. All he does is keep running after 'nothing'. And all I hear from him is the low tone ticks, ticks n ticks...and constant alarms peircing straight through my head beckoning me to come and have a look at its charming legs walking royally oblivious to the happenings in the world. Everybody tries to be in harmony with him, follow him like a tireless stalker. The fact that the rotation and revolution of Earth around the Sun is coherent with time and space remains the same. We obey him. Calendar gets flipped over regularly. The pages of books are turning yellow. My feet doing a lot of walking, trampling down tiny ants..Untouched..Unnoticed..Things are done hastily..Connected to the mechanical world like a baby connected to a mother through the umbilical cord.
In a moment, seconds of evanescent incidents are stamped as history. Many unnoticed. Untouched. They are saying something. I reckon they are yelling out saying 'Ohh..dont do that'. But in another unnoticed, untouched second they are again yelling out at me saying 'Ohhkk..carry on..but this is your last time..'The 'they' am talking about are my senses. They are waffling about the whims and caprices and enticing me. I as an able-bodied-slave ought to fulfill him. I suddenly hear my big brother, the timely 'time', mocking at me and saying
'You are a mad man..'
I say 'No I'm not!'
He says 'Tell me one good earthly-human reason'
I'm pondering over it...Still pondering..No..I dont get a earthly-human reason to convince him.
He says 'You are a slave to your senses. They are making you do all they want'
Meditating upon it, I come to know that every quality of mine and every action of mine is a result of me being a subordinate to my king. My senses. I'm a victim of its politics. An intricate politics. I'm just an owner of my 'chassis', the physical body.
Meditating upon it, I come to know that every quality of mine and every action of mine is a result of me being a subordinate to my king. My senses. I'm a victim of its politics. An intricate politics. I'm just an owner of my 'chassis', the physical body.
He says 'Why dont you fight them'. It sounded really interesting.."Fight them". So yet another venture..
"Trying to keep my senses under control..Trying being a master, king of my own senses".
Before I get tooo philosophical I better descend down to earth. My wings are tired.
P.S Tried to bring a convoluted insight into the politics of mind..
