Thursday, January 24, 2013

Stung


 I am stung by the experience of touching the core of human existence.


ten billion human lives
living, dying, even as
incrementally growing
per second per second acceleration
in their count, becoming countless
unless extirpated
by some malevolent swipe

all of them feel and take it as a boon
given as a bestowed favour
and benediction for the ultimate
all-assuming and consuming 
bouquet of experiences
out of the question that it be questioned
why, if it wasn't, or if there wasn't it given

poison, ecstasy, satiation
through food or sexual encounters
with meager or mega means
and humongous affluence
whether through comprehension
or lack of it, assumed to be
a given, to be taken,
kept to be lived and not questioned


the convenience emanating from
assumption of destiny
for comfort, consolation, and pacification 
in the hypocritical oddities 
of colliding vanities, deprivation,
corruption of mind or action

ought not at least a few
if such be the case
feel resentment and be embittered
with rage that life's vagaries
do not offer choices
that from birth to demise
everything in between is a caprice
so whimsical that what goes by the name of virtue
resides in evanescent droplets of dew
while evil pervades and conquers


does one think 
or is it improper to question this myth and reject it
as not a given, and therefore
not feel belittled, lost, bemoan
not having been born
not missing out most grievously
on the experience of life and living

and if not born 
and therefore not in the knowledge
of missing out on life
how is it that it is not realised
that they would not know the loss
of experiencing life
which would have only been an
expedient of contingency,
ad infinitum, contingent upon another

the question is, why not no life
and simply not know about its absence

what a sting

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Bhai,

That burning and stinging of visionary eyes with the bird of knowledge taking flight in them (pictures) burnt holes in themselves. Wages of knowledge.

charu