Of life, Of love, Of sex

Life always fascinates me, it fascinated me as a joyful child and as a mournful loner. I was creative as far back as I could remember and I can sense it diminishing thoroughly as my memory retreats from that far back time to reach present. It has been kinda smooth for me, the life. I almost never worried much as to what I would do when I grow up, I never spared my thought to find out what are my natural instinct and dreams. I have always been lazy, sensitive to emotions, marginally insecure and broadly nonsensical. My natural instinct would be to reject any idea that I fear is superior to that of mine, instantly. But then I have come in terms with that behavior and have made it perish lately. I have learnt to accept things for the way they are, people for the way they are. And its a pleasing sense. Much better than the sadist egoistic satisfaction I used to get by rejecting them earlier. I feel more secure now, my thought remain more indifferent to the outer world that way. Life has brought me many surprises. Most of them are good and for good. I feel lucky. And thankful most of the times. Dubious incidents now make sense to me and I rejoice. I feel change is good and thrive for it. My inner most desire to cling to the things I love, things I want to preserve has faded away. This desire of holding makes you unhappy. As my heart is now relieved of any such desire, I find my thoughts falling into place, mostly filled with satisfaction and not obsession. Life as I have learnt is a set of memory, good or bad, but its just a set of memory. Imaginations take shape and I see my life, now more beautiful  and free. Free of restricted dreams, sublime fame, sense of  obvious pretense for being in a society of materialistically gone mad fellow living beings.  I now feel no sad for my fame to die or name to go bad. For my face not being recognized by college juniors, smiles not being given back by beautiful colleagues. Euphoria and ecstasy drive me away not being drifted by the magnetic fatal attraction of  wealth, fame and "sense of achievements". Life is to live, and living is synonymous to happiness. Happiness is a fairly uncomplicated term and never momentary. I feel lucky and I feel more happy as I feel I am mortal. I feel my life has just begun.

Love is a good thing to experience. It makes you smile when you are alone. Sitting on a deserted hillock or on your porch, you feel you belong to some one. Your heart race and blood pressure builds, eyes closed you delve into dreams. Pure euphoria. Love for me has never been a boon. I tried to make love my mistress may be and it cursed me. I was always longing to be in love. And I fell in it indeed. For that part of my life I would name it lovely. Yes, thats how you feel. Lovely. Concentration rich the peak it can ever get to. Always focused on the loved one. Smiles never stop, and joy seems just to be beginning every passing day. In the shadows of unknown crowd and strange land the sens of your hand being held by the one you love, the sense of you love being with you makes you sail. You embark unafraid of the storms that may await you. Just you. You defy the misfortune that may lust you. But love is too mortal like man. Its born as a cute innocent thing, grows to become a complex, confused and entangled not-so-good thing and die naturally or mutilated in an undesired way. But it dies with or before you. An unnaturally dead love, leaves scars that hurt and haunt for the rest of life. Still "peeda main anand jise ho, aye wo meri madhushala". Love is the only of its kind where even paint is ecstatic. You restlessly chase this pain, just to get possessed by it once. And this pursuit is worth it.

                 He who feels the pain of his own soul, and clings to it

                and yet thrives to spend his whole life, in that one moment of pain

               he is the man in true love, he is the man of true form

Love is the drink of gods disguise, this moment is your last chance, go get drunk.

Sex as a word makes ripples of current run through your spine as it does as an act. Its one of the best gifts nature has given to human. To love and to lust out of love. Every human act is closely associated with one thing, ego. Ego is the driving force of life. And sex is a man's alter ego. Its spells how you are. A philosopher knows everything in the world are fallacies. But lust of the beloved is a purest form of emotion like true prayer. Its unfiltered, unrestricted, soulfully desired and magnificently ecstatic. I have always been fascinated by it. Desiring to enact myself as the best lover the world has ever seen. Every one does. Often I get obsessed with it too. Not anymore. sex is life in compact. You start excited, you want it to never end, but only the end makes it worth it. And you forget how much you enjoy when you do it. Sex like life is a set of memory. A hundred small things make a complete act of passion. And you try to cling to each of them but you can not as a rule cause you have to rush for the end. That is the goal. And to enjoy it fully you must spend just enough amount of time doing it that your body naturally drives itself to. Otherwise soon its monotonous and you lose the whole purpose of it. Same, analogous to life. Let the mind drive itself. Don't drag it. Don't push it hard. Just remember you have to enjoy each moment of if but its enjoyable cause it has an end, a climax and that keeps you driving. In life you die and in sex you orgasm. Enjoy it, making love to your beloved is not a shameful act live living your life is never one too. The man who says so is the man who never lives. Sex is sin just in dead man's dictionary.

       My beloved's embrace is the heaven for me, I find solace only there

      From ruins I rise too, with the sense of my beloved's desire

     my enemies, the world how would they know, I am a man in love, my soul has caught fire.

Truly

Abinash