Just imagine again
And then I imagined further …Now I was my own. I had bought myself from my owner. It is true that I got myself finally but… but in pieces. Small and big pieces. And I got a pair of hands, a pair of legs, a pair of ears ,a pair of heavy breasts, a stomach, a gall bladder, Kidneys, liver and a few more organs (which were supposed to keep those pieces alive), a no head (much of it was sold and rest was fatigued) and a half heart( the other half was with my owners).
I bundled those pieces, tied them up with the rope of my hair. I was walking with the weight, with the heavy weight of those pieces and was empathetic to my last owners. Then I reached a corner of the earth, sat there with the pieces, counted their accuracy and then started examining those pieces. One by one. Seperately. Those legs were mine. They wanted to move in many directions, in all the directions ,in all possible directions and I cut them into pieces with the help of a knife and threw them in many directions, in all the directions, in all the possible directions directing,” Walk! Walk away! in whatever way!’’ mmhh! An assignment over. Next was a pair of eyes. They always wanted to dream. They always dreamt. I had to do something for them and I made airy wings for my eyes but after soaring in the blue large sky they preferred to swim safely in a pond. They kept swimming for years, for million years in the cold- warm water. Another assignment done. Then came a pair of ears. They wanted to listen to the heart. So I kept them with the half heart that I possessed. It kept listening to the whispers, to the loud whispers, to the sobs, to the bubbling jests. It is listening to the half heart.
My stomach, liver, kidneys, lungs, bones always wanted to rest. Now they don’t have to work as they were supposed to work for the whole not for parts. Their work done and happy they are.
Next was a pair of heavy breasts. They did not want anything. Many others wanted them. I thought to keep them on exhibition in a museum but many pairs were already there. So I burnt them .They kept burning for some time and now happily burnt they are. Happily over. Happily non existent.
Now only a pair of hands remain fulfilling their wish to write. They write they will keep writing for years, for million years. And I am done with my duty of ownership. Whole lost. Pieces happy. And I owned myself to lose. The separate pieces were already dead when I owned them. I just tried to cremate them by fulfilling their wish, for the sake of salvation. So that they don’t need to exist ever in future.
your imagination has triggered another imagination of my own....
ReplyDelete" the part of unconscious mind, broken into pieces, now carefully removed from the conscious one, deep fried into my blood, without the white blood corpuscles(no safety wing) consumed by my ears, eyes, hands, ass, broke knee, jaw, liver, whatever..... It will start vanishing soon. You cant find it ever again.
"hello, am i talking to Mr. mind, this is Mr. heart speaking., yes Mr. Blockhead truly, can you tell me one thing how it feels without the unconscious?"
"Ask my friends the two testicles"
'ya, you two bloody fellows sons of a bitch!!!, tell me how you feel, do you feel mussy and moosy looking into sussy?"
'Its quite serene, the weather I mean, wet weather, hollow from the middle."
"You assholes don't know how it will change in a moment"
the unconscious vanishes from the parts, bit by bit, trough the heart,legs, broken knee, above the eyes, below the belt, hairs, evaporates bruaaaahh, blueeeeeeessss, fruuuukkkkk. Now what can they feel a certain numbness, control.
restrain, block, suffocation?"
none sense, everything is non sens ical
Awesome ma'am!
ReplyDeleteThe Nihilistic Richa Ma'am! I am glad, even in your imagination you are willing to write eternally. You can own your hands, we will own your write ups.
ReplyDeleteExcellent stuff. Looking forward to more of this kind.
Prabhat, your comments are often better than my posts.
ReplyDeleteThanks Mohi and Chandra Nisha.
supercoooooooooooool imagination.........
ReplyDelete