It's something unpredictable... but in the end it's right.

Disclaimer: The below piece is being written by a mildly drunk human. All indications of oneself's spirituality are probably merely of the ethylated kind.

July 23rd - I became an uncle officially. Would have preferred a niece, frankly, but a nephew should do just as well. Join me in my hope that the young one lives a life of freedom.

July 28 - I became single again officially.

Aug 4 - I'll own an Enfield Bullet!

trivia begins

I'm going to have the bike painted black; in honour of Captain Jack Sparrow!

What the Black Pearl really is... is freedom.

trivia ends

Which of these events has the greatest impact on me at the moment? Which of these will leave the most lasting impact?

To put it in my most oft repeated abbreviation... DKDC.

Don't know. Don't care.

I really don't like to think of who or what my freedom really is going to be from... who or what I'm running away from. But the answer is probably, "Myself."

I love solitude. I'd love to share that sense of peace with someone. If you can explain that oxymoron away, you'd have done me a huge favour.

Frankly, I thought once that this seeming paradox had a loophole: the possibility that I would find someone who would suffer the same paradox. and live the cliche'd happily-ever-after life.

I tried to explot this loophole once. The experience was pure purgatory. A brief touch of hell of the kind reserved for one who has merely not believed in the truth: for one who believed an idle dream. A place that characterized an eternal desire for paradise but no realistic chance of attaining or reaching it: A peaceful idyllic place whose very peace became too violent to bear. Hell-lite as it were.

I'd not like to try it again. This time it would be a wilful sin. The sin of lust. The sin of choosing material comforts over meta-physical onces. And the reward would most likely be hell-proper.

And thus I am...

Living...

Condemned for eternity to a life of solitude: the life of a disbeliever in all concepts human and humane: the life of a man who knows no pleasure beyond his own - no pain beyond his own - no feelings beyond his own - and no thoughts beyond his own.

Of love I dare not speak. I have not the credentials. But, if I did love, it was the two of them. And they silently turned away. Not their fault obviously. My mother will bear testimony to the fact that I have always hurt those who are closest to me. A fact I'm not proud of. A fact that I probably do not do enough to change.

There was a time when i knew every thought of hers: when words were dispensed with because they weren't necessary: when I could truly say "you say it best when you say nothing at all". Oh! What would I not give to hear her voice again!

One last roadtrip planned. From Chennai to nowhere-in-particular.

The requirements?

Silence... lots of it.

The objective?

To hold infinity in a grain of sand and eternity in an hour...

I promise that my last words to you will be "I hope you had the time of your life." If When i do post just that one line, please indulge me and look into the obituary columns of The Hindu.