The Riot

" Put a tyre around his shoulders, pour petrol and burn him." It was twilight in Ahmedabad. They were atleast twenty men. And they were talking of burning me alive. I was staring at death. Strangely i wasn't afraid. I tried to reason with them. I tried to convince them I wasn't a Muslim. I tried to chant 'hare rama hare krishna' or some other hindu mantra. They weren't amused. One of them hit me with a stout stick. But his blow was hesitant. Others goaded him not to be afraid and to hit me with vigour. I felt another blow on my head. I saw no point in fighting that horde; or in running. They were too many and I was alone. I calmly bore their half-hearted attempts at beating me. Soon they were tired and started pushing me. They warned me never to come back to their locality. I didn't say I wasn't interested. When I somehow made it to the hospital, the X-rays didn't show significant injuries. But my mind couldn't be scanned. I knew that day what it meant to be a Muslim in Gujarat.

Death

priyanka.she has gifted me a slow death.or have i gifted it to myself
and malign her name
i think of her.i dream of her.and she is not mine.she's a mirage that i
chase and my lips are parched
she is a shadow that i want to grasp
a dirge that i want to sing in a marriage
a death that i want to live
a pain that i want to adore
a void i want to bless existence
i have even lost my way with words
my muse has deserted me
life doesn't seem worth living and death doesn't come
how beautiful death is,how serene,peaceful,loving,all accepting
death loves all,accepts all
she loves and accepts saint and sinner,the mighty and the humble,the wise and the fool alike in her loving arm
then why has death forsaken me
why doesn't she embrace me in her extinction
i wish death would come
like mother's love
she would end my pain
i would cry into her bosom and she would understand
i would tell her how i loved priyanka and how i suffered for her and she would understand
and i would be happy that she understood
and she would tell me of the day when she would embrace her too
and unite her and everybody else with me
amd me with everybody else
till everybody and everything becomes one
and eternal unity
prevails

Jealosy

Can hatred spring from love? Animal hatred, at once passionate and bloodthirsty. I love her or do I hate her for loving him. I have burnt in my own personal hell- the hell of jealousy. All my illusions of love, of tenderness have been swept away. I wish he were never born. Or that I were dead.I hate him for being loved by her. The more she loves him, the more I want to kill him. It wouldn't satisfy me to murder him. If I achieve absolute power, I would gas him to death. No, I would invent seventh degree torture and make him a specimen of living death while denying him the luxury of death. I would make him suffer physically what I have borne mentally. He is my beloved's boyfriend. She adores him. I have loved her ever since I was thirteen. I never as much as thought about another girl. She is everything to me. And then I came to know about him. And my love vanished into the quagmire of jealousy and bestial hatred. How can hatred spring from love. Was my love a charade altogether? Did I never love her, not even for a single moment? Was I living in an empty emotion for eight years? She lambasted I didn't knew what love was.Now after two and a half years, I still felt like breaking his skull when she introduced him to me. Yeah I hate him for being loved by her. For snatching her away from me. For defeating me. For hurting my ego as nobody ever can. For showing me the hollowness of what I considered sacred in me. May God give him peace and the gift of pure love which He denied to me. May she be happy in his love. Only that these are mere moral dictums. Not my feelings. I am too human. I know too well the pangs of jealousy, the inferno of hatred, the pain of being robbed of a delusion.

Turiya

Loss of body consciousness is the pre-requisite for embarking on the spiritual plane of existence. The human body is what ties pure awareness to gross matter and prevents its true essence from joyous self-expression. Three planes of existence are accessible to all. The waking state is the gross state with sensory inputs and their co-ordination creating the transient illusion of commonplace "reality". The dream state manifests with the loss of sensory constraints. The mind is free to create its own "reality' and space-time limitations that predominate in the waking state are transcended. The third state is deep dreamless state when the dreamer is not even aware that he is dreaming. To become awake in the deepest dreamless sleep is to attain pure consciousness free from ego,intellect,emotions and sensory inputs. Thus the spiritual essence is manifested. This is known as 'turiya' or the fourth state in Indian mysticism and santori in other oriental traditions.