god told them to do it, so they did. they brought the small, destroyed figures up the wooden steps. the crowd jeered and cursed at the hooded figures, yet the victims remained quiet. it was a miracle, honestly, that they could keep their silence. if they hadn't they would have been dragged back to the dark stone rooms, and more of the symbols would have been cut into their flesh. the blood was visible now, through the rags they had been given. all three of them stood there nonetheless, fearful of what would happen if they did otherwise.
an identical number of their captors came forward, seeking approval from the crowd, and from the apparent god. they got it. shouts of encouragement cheered on the captors as they shrieked in joy and ecstasy. they all had knives. after a short while, they began cutting and cutting. cutting into the people because god said so.
We stood alone in a group. We felt lonely. We were the ones that kept on going even when life kept coming. Its the truth. We are survivors. In this day and age we have no noble cause to champion, no grand ideal to enforce, no over-reaching dictator to dispose. We fight for our identity. As a person, as a child, as a parent, as a son, as a daughter. We fight for ourselves. To be seen, heard and understood. Its the perverse penetrative scheme set in motion because we are tired of our lot. Tired of being hopeless, subject to the pity and scorn of those just a thread above us on the loom of fate. We're spun a tale as old as time; about the nature of luck, but this time we fight back, we rise, we live.
It has turned out to be a bright Thursday. More into himself, Ross, has decided to 'feel' himself, throughout the day. A nice ride to his office, he finds himself comfortably seated in his chair. Even the chair and the ambiance feels good today, more comfortable. There is a lot of positive vibe in him which makes the same parking space appear different. He called up his old friends, whom he hadn't called since past 1 year.
His positive spirit it might have been, all these people were so happy to hear his voice. They wanted to meet him, but they were kinda caught up in work. He met 2-3 old faces out there, it is his old office where he was working for past 4 years. Being back after a break of 1 year in the same space, and that too being present fully to the experience, made Ross so happy. He found his lost smile, his high pitch and his body moving freely. He was even found shaking his hands and legs in the tune of the song in his ears. All this, yet completely present, not trudging in the land of thoughts. Just Ross, his feeling , his smile, his passion and his life! Everything about Ross, in the moment. There is a fine line between the space of his thoughts and the moment that he is in. The fear arises when the border is stepped over. Sometimes its hard to come to the zone of now, from the zone of thoughts. That is when it all starts falling down for Ross. Someone has corrupted this land of his imagination, more like weeds that have grown out there, kind of energy-suckers to be precise!
But today, uptil 4.00pm, Ross is alive, awake and more like he was always. As he sees himself in the mirror, he says " Damn! that's you Ross!, that's my man!"
There was some magic in the feeling of the moment.
He doesn't ever think of me. As if I'm supposed to feel guilty for his indiscretion. He's the married one, not me. Why should I care? I'm hurting no one. No one close to me, anyway. I don't know his family. I know him. And that's all that matters. I just want him. No baggage. But he insists on whining every time I see him. Beating himself up. In between doing things to me that he can't do to his wife, apparently. So why should I have to listen? I won't, I told him. I won't listen. He doesn't get how this hurts me. I love him so much and he barely gives me the time of day except when he wants to forget his guilt for an hour or so. Then I'm just supposed to evaporate and he can go back and play happy families with a woman who makes him miserable. I could be so much better for him. I am so much better for him. Why can't he see that? I'm probably the best thing that's ever happened to him and yet he keeps going home every night. I should end it. Let him miss me. Of course I'd take him back at the drop of a hat, but perhaps making him sweat a while will do him good. Show him what he's missing. He'll realise it's me he wants and not her. I'm the fun one, not her. I'd be a better mother to his kids, she'll see. Why can't I stop being angry about this? He gets under my skin. It's my fault. I'm the one who pursued him. It takes two to tango though, doesn't it? He can't hold me responsible. Did I make him to do it? I'm good but I'm not that good. I'll end it. Plenty of more married fish in the sea, right? I'm the best ever to happen to them.
Not many a times do you feel liek this. You feel like you have not known yourself but just blindly following like a sheep in a herd. But where is this herd heading to? It has never been a matter of personal introspection, its more about blind following. But following where? Where does this I want to reach? Not a moment of privacy is allowed, just the next thing and the next thing..the desires keep hopping on. Not a single moment to discover what are the things we love. Where is the feeling to be one with yourself? You are just playing like a story you saw in a movie.That movie star in a perfect corporate role, or that romantic lover in a beautiful flick you saw. We are all just playing those actors in our mind. We are never living in this now. Where is the beat to syncrhonize yourself to your SELF? The self that defines you, that creates you, that makes you who you are. That originality is far better than a thousand copies that you run behind. Perhaps someday I will be able to discover that 'I' which is not the role thats being played, but in the moment that it stays. Perhaps I could capture that I someday!