A crazy place

It looks circular to me. Yet one can create anything out of it. Anyone out of it. I don’t understand most of the things, most of the people, most of the walls, most of the gates, most of the urinals, most of the streets, most of the chairs, most of the grass, most of the water, most of the moons, most of the air, most of the trees, most of the jobs, most of the foods, most of the results, most of the observations, most of the colours, most of the languages, most of the beauties, most of the doors, most of the mirrors, most of the songs, most of the whispers, most of the cameras, most of the dogs, most of the clothes, most of the arts, most of the books, most of the hopes, most of the cries, most of the slaughters, most of the time, mostly all, mostly one, mostly self. The structures automatically gets broken, break is a harsh word, the structures gets adjusted to welcome a new alien from mars or wherever and then interesting things starts to happen. The sun and the moon exchange positions to fit in mars. The officials create a new number to tag him. This makes the computers older with newer memory. The memory gets extended to welcome mars. Oh I forgot I also do not understand most of the photographs. I do not understand any of the punch liners which create a hero and dump someone inside the place where left over bottles from the laboratories creates the smell-less mystery. Then rain falls one day. The rain scoops out the dumped someone from the deep well and exposes him to the world. Oh I don’t understand most of the lightning. Most of the telephone numbers too.

I say that nature creates without knowing why that creation, how that creation-will that be too vague.  Then why are we at all trying to match things. Nature creates superfluously. There is no repentance, no effort to vanish that creation, no cross calculations, no cross-checking and no effort to analyze the similarities between two creations. Then why us? Nature creates ice and leaves the ice to decide whether the ice would want to flow down or vanish to the infinite air or do/be both of these things. Nature creates a circular moon from distance and leaves it to the moon to show white or yellow or half or quarter or whatever.

Everybody seems to be obsessed about death these days. But nobody questions birth. Everyone seems to know what is the mystery about death, how does it feel to die. How did we feel or could we at all feel what birth is or how is birth or why or when birth? So what’s the point ‘waiting’? Or as the intellectuals would say (some having read some pretending) ‘Waiting for Godot’. I did not read it. I have heard it from somewhere and also seen the cover. A friend of mine would say that I would select books by the cover (from the school library). And then with half reading would give up. How can one be so much superfluous? Andy would know the answer. But I kind of read the introduction with time and patience.

And when rain falls from the cloud or whatever is it not ‘loss of water’. But we need that loss for growing crops to feed our hunger.