(This is the concluding part of my earlier post differently titled as It Is Not A Pornograph, It Is A De Factograph! The photograph is missing, sorry.)


Close your eyes in shame.
And in anger.
Shame and anger only can reclaim and redeem the true perspective in stark black and white. Only shame and anger could be so outspoken - nothing else.
Only shame and anger could voice the oracular truth of our conscience.
Only shame and anger could do a blow job burning the whole world in its myriad myths and fornications.
Now look at the picture in shame and anger.
Can you see anything in blind eyes? Yes, you see in your shame and anger the stark reality of the hapless world around us in denuded and deflowered body-politic.
Can you believe it being a prisoner of your conscience?
But what you have seen is what you have to believe at all as believing itself is an act of coinciding with the grim reality surrounding us in interwined parapharnalia.
So, you believe what you are seeing.
What you are seeing?
A nameless and faceless woman with nothing to hide her shame and anger is lazily coming towards your eye of vision to confront you.
As if to settle some scores with the cosmopolitan world disrobed in fashion-designer threadbares.
And she came in threadbares, no, she came in threadless bares hauntingly face to face towards me like you. What should I do now? Should I capture her in the captivity of my pin-hole? Or, should I not? I got dumbfounded and I closed my eyes - in shame and anger I paused for a while. Earlier or just a few moments ago, she showed me and the world around me her behind, the behind that boldly exposed the bare facts of the civilised world - defying its devilish nature, the demonic psychopathy and the culture of hegemonic bastardness to the hilt.
Defying she was all the way as if all through destiny.
Yes, she exposed the bare meaning of life to the hilt, to a lower depth of reality.
And I opened my eyes to the world - in shame and anger.
The gorgeous sun was peeping through a thick line of clouds, its venegeance was scorching - nobody was around there to feel the pinch of it. As if the blood was sweaing profusely on my body to give vent to the cuddling grudge that was boilng inside my heart and soul. My heart was aching, the soul was crying like a motherless child.
A sense of guilt overwhelmed me. I felt like running away, escaping away to my oftenly self-righteous world where I can remain blind without closing eyes and where anger can recede back to the safe cocoon of diurnal days and nights.
I had lost all reasons and then immediately got back all reasons to react and act accordingly. But what to act? And how to react?
And I acted at long last.
Her full torso inched towards me as if my head and the limbs had got benumbed under the prowess of the gravity - the gravity of the situational melodrama recreated in my mind's eye, recreated in ceremonial extravaganza of misadventure.
I closed my eyes but my mind's eyes were inconspicuously open to her barely ethereal body that opened the floodgate of third-eye vision in surreal surprise.
And I looked through the glass, darkly, and I clicked her and captured her into the captivity of my avavnt garde world!
When she came close me, she made some mimic gesture to me without uttering a word.
Was she dumb?
Maybe, he got dumbfounded by the horrors of the outside world.
Why not? She had all the reasons to be frightened and cowed down by the situational violence surrounding her so hauntingly.
I understood that she wanted to drink - water.
I brought out a Goodday cookie pack.
She gave it a bite and she vomitted immediately,
Could she stomach such things when she had nothing but green leaves to munch relishingly? Had she forgotten when she last had got a morsel of food to relish? Hunger had stopped stoking the fire in her metabolic needs as she had died long before the bodypolitic world cared to control the damage of the nameless and faceless pedigree.
She had never come alive in her life, again.
I brought out a bottle of Aquafina mineral water.
I became skeptic about whether she could stomach this too.
She guzzled it all at once down her thoracic duct which I thought had got choked all the while.
I heaved a sigh of relief - at last I had become eligible to satisfy her basic needs for her metabolic functions to go into breathful rhythm.
She cried in full tears, breathlessly as if it was her swan song to mortify her god-forshaken universe. Of course, her universe had been a little less than a pinball atom.
What for? I did not know - I dared not to know.
Then she turned back and took to her heels without caring a hoot for my existence. My whole existence came for a rude shock and it fell like nine pins breaking into many more into smithereens.
Slowly and slowly she disappeared from my physical visions.
But I wished to keep seeing her in my mind's eye.
And I saw her vanishing into the mystic blues in quest of another non-existent wilderness, the wilderness seemed to be more appropriate for her make-believe paradise.
I lowered my jaw in shame and anger.

Blame it on me, Mother
Forgive me for once
Dig a hole for me, Mother
I'll burn all my blames
In ashes of shame and anger

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There are many languages in yhe world. A few thousands or so - a mindboggling figure, of course. But why on earth? There are so many reasons behind this and the reasons are so practical. First and foremost, we have to remember that at the time of those languages having been evolved, there was a total lack of communication system and facility. People would have lived detached from others, from one area of population to another, from one tribe to another.

A small group of people live in a ghettoised habitat without knowing any other. To make communication possible among one tribe, a particular language was evolved among them. There were thousand of ghettoes or tribe. And number of languages evolved were in constant proportion to the number of areas or tribes of people. One tribe of people never knew the the existence of another tribe of people.

Such were the condition prevailed at that time and that was very natural. That might be the reason why so many languages were evolved and so many languages are still prevailing in this world. If the communication systems and the trnsport facilities would have been same as today, there was no questin of so many languages having been evolved.

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There are many languages in yhe world. A few thousands or so - a mindboggling figure, of course. But why on earth? There are so many reasons behind this and the reasons are so practical. First and foremost, we have to remember that at the time of those languages having been evolved, there was a total lack of communication system and facility. People would have lived detached from others, from one area of population to another, from one tribe to another.

A small group of people live in a ghettoised habitat without knowing any other. To make communication possible among one tribe, a particular language was evolved among them. There were thousand of ghettoes or tribe. And number of languages evolved were in constant proportion to the number of areas or tribes of people. One tribe of people never knew the the existence of another tribe of people.

Such were the condition prevailed at that time and that was very natural. That might be the reason why so many languages were evolved and so many languages are still prevailing in this world. If the communication systems and the trnsport facilities would have been same as today, there was no questin of so many languages having been evolved.

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You dream in hastening light
You dream in the flower of darkness
Never knowing which way the cockatoo will crow
Which way the weary river will lazily flow.

I never dream like you at daybreaks of the yonder sky
Like you I never fly in the air with a butterfly
I know when the moon will kiss you and the cockatoo will crow.

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My weary heart fails
I am on the crossroad of hope and despair
Gods are showing me the way
How long should I spend in mist?

Remembering the days of past glory
I can sow seeds in your breast
You know whether we can get a good harvest.

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My eyes pursue your images
The images of idle shadows among the mountains
Your weary heart on the raod to liberation
Your all dreams nestle in your breast.

One day we will die and your images will remain
The unborn child will cherish your dream
Will the unborn child ever be stillborn?

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