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Rekha Madam!

1. She alighted from an e-rickshaw. I was walking with my gaze into ethereal shrine. I had a hunch: it might be her. She was waiting for someone.

2. I could have done it some other day. Why not now? To be genuine in my salutation for once.

3. She was wearing a white saari and she had grey hair with freckles on her cheeks. What I paid attention to, in particular, was the dot. The red bindi on her forehead.

4. She asked me how I was doing and i mirrored that with words. She asked me about my current job and my educational qualifications. I told her. Then she asked me about why I quit the job. Before I could complete: she said I would get more tuitions. You have started : you would get work in time.

5. I had heard her conversation with a student of hers. It was a long ago. I went to take her permission for something. The student was telling her : “I feel as if you don’t love me.”

But I love you and all others. Don’t ever think like this.

The student felt good.

She explicitly asked him to touch her feet.

6. I was baffled. Her love was wierd to say the least.

7. Satya Prakash was fond of mocking the sounds of her slaps. She used to beat naughty ones.

8. Myopia and hypermetropia ever remained the highlight of my study under her supervision. Kuldeep Shukla.

9. She ever remained a mystery.

10. Her hobby was Mathematics. On Sunday she used to practice Mathematics. She became a librarian like Laotzu. I thought I saw a look alike of Laotse outside JK cyber cafe. Previous one was in Vrijpura.

11. The student who touched her feet took Saurabh Singh to our section of MMHS and asked him to show one flying kick as he was learning karate.

I was wondering why it was such a big thing for I could do that. Gyanesh Chaturvedi had taught me kingry kick.

12. I used her dots till the end of the infinity. If someone implanted suggestions in me: it was her. Grammar. She was a grammarian and mathematician. She knew Hindi and English. If someone could be called hypatia of Maria Mata it was her. Her name is Rekha and there’s no parallel to her. Do parrallel lines meet at infinity? Her name was Rekha and she played with dots.

13. She triggered the avalanche of tears on our farewell day. I saw a tear in corner of her eyes as Ruchi was giving the parting speech. Ah, how could I have seen that. I would have cried in private but she made it a vidaai samaroh. When it comes to crying Rudra Academy always gets the first prize. Natarajan Pencils : champions once again!

15. A Sanskrit dictum says: good people appear harsh but they’re soft inside: like coconut. Others are like plums : soft only on outside. She could teach Sanskrit as well.

16. I saw Neelima and Maya mam in a dream recently and it resulted in meeting her.

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Death is dead!

1. It’s a strange place I have reached. Whereas the most abstruse of spiritual and political topics seem like back of my left hand: my everyday life is a life of dire poverty. My net worth is three hundred and twenty rupees and I am waiting to receive my due fees from three parties.

2. World Food Programme received Nobel Peace Prize: though they are as rigged as Cricket Matches : I am happy that some charity does happen on their behalf : and since I spend some time everyday-playing Free Rice game: I feel like I deserve some rice when I eat it. Not because what I have donated recently is enough to feed many children: it’s a meagre one kilogram : but I am extremely popular. Despite being hidden. Despite being a blogger who has only hundred followers who were not bought by liking in return or by using flattery: I did wait for the count to reach to 100 from 90. By then, all previous ailments, which are merely memories were dropped. Blogger’s World survived but didn’t thrive. A Blogger blog which had utmost honest accounts of how Corona originated (it originated when I was enjoying the Chinese porn): survived. I am happy for World Food Programme. I do need some institution or organization which really does what it says.

3. Maria Mata Convent High School doesn’t. Its T is italicized. Mafos. Logos. All the same. Red Cross? I don’t know. I was a star advertiser : then I was not eligible as a teacher. I was eligible to be butchered collectively in another school: Sanskar Public. The main problem is: I don’t understand why such a prestigious institution encroached such a big amount of public land on a road. Secondly: the same was done by Choubey Nursing Home. And after many months of news reports in 2018 : nothing ever happened. Voices are suppressed : efficiently. I would give you an offer you won’t be able to resist. Marlon Brando/Al Pacino/Robert De Nero? It doesn’t matter. You’re a Warner Bros: stay mum. Anand Hero? Yarmulke? It’s time to shine. Put a drunk man near collector bungalow. What is news? Even collector bungalow encroached public road. Do you have courage to bulldozer that land? Or is it only poor people like me?

4. Sampat had problems with my cleaning the field. My neighbors had bigger problems. And why? Because it’s always a problem. Sampat didn’t know that her name means what her grandchild’s name meant: “vaibhav” : opulence. It was the same name which was inserted into me when I was dying after having my heart stopped. Satyam was present in two such episodes with me. Galla Mandi: Ganesh: and then playing the ball in the academy. Jai Tripathi called it out like the child who saw emperor’s clothes: is it a bhoot bungalow sir? Sampat only had a colony of ghosts in her house. She was rude then and even more rude in parting. She was the second lady after the secretary of Gandhi Smarak Nidhi who employed me: but they were never as clear as I was: they mixed money with cleavage while I wanted them to keep them distinct. I was supposed to be paid for my honest labours. The kids I taught didn’t let me teach. They were mostly nuisance makers. I did my best but in the end: you are not being paid because we had to spend time preparing tea for you. You know what: I had five ghosts in my house: they channeled countless ghosts and you’re not new. Maybe you’re more connected to elite of the town: being a Chaturvedi and all. Who is Bhajju Goswami? Is he same as Gyanesh Or is he a different version. He was more of a friend and we did play chess but he disappeared.

5. It has been six months. I was beaten by a black commando and police. Why? Because I was walking towards a library. I was composing with a slut who thought she was a goddess. I was commenting on heir apparent winking at cheat apparent. The policeman didn’t know where Gandhi Smarak Bhavan is and yet had a right to beat me. Isn’t it logical that since that beating didn’t change the disease and didn’t control the community spread and the Maximilian Muhammad farci: all draconid constellation rulers be soon brought to justice? Will it make me happy that same treatment is given to president, prime minister, or all goons? Will it make me happy that all traces of this civilization disappear for good? I really don’t know the root cause. What can I say? I see beggars vying for attention all around me.

6. What did I learn this year? It’s Autumn. Now deciduous trees mean something else: they don’t make me recall whores. They merely tell me that I have sacrificed myself as many times for the Truth as the leaves falling from trees. I see crows, pigeons, mules, bulls, pigs, dogs and humans: they all have a different meaning to me. This was the greatest year ever!

7. I still long to see thousand hooded serpent. Giant lizards. Aliens. Grays. Sirians. Vulcans. Orions. Etcetera. Where are my countless clones? Exact replicas with whom I may spend time without noise? How long do I need to serve logos before I am rewarded with a noise proof room where I have perfect control for as long as I need it. If no such thing exists: logos is powerless and fake.

8. Where are gods and goddesses with thousands of heads. Not the mystical version of people cooperation. No. If you rattle psyche of children for aeons : by telling them stories about them: you should show something real. Instead: you invent new ways of torture:

9. Celibacy. Sexuality. Marriage. Ethics. Parents. Police. Neighborhood. Shamans. State. Taxes. Outcastes. Incomplete education. Sleep deprivation. Malnutrition. Adulteration of food. Using electricity, internet and other wiring to adulterate music of spheres. And add goons, maafia as well as Mahajan to that: if everyone is indebted to some greater Lord: why do I need to bear the cross everytime?

10. Advertisement carry more knowledge than news reports. Imagination is more powerful than knowledge. I was a slave. Then I thought I was free. Then I was initiated by another Inder who imposed some impossible to fulfill conditions like a diary: what a fake institution. Then: back to Nayanmars who claimed perfect enlightenment merely by chanting omamashivaay. Here precedence was given to rudraksha bearers by primeval Lord? What’s so special about a tree, stone, hair, bones, DNA? Anki and Anlil.

11. Amitabh. Western Buddha verse. Piyusha Patel: only person who asked me earnest philosophical questions in the last year. Only a few meetings. Mere confirmation that I hadn’t forgotten the names and teachings: Jiddu, UG, Eckhart, Nisargadatt, Buddha, Padmasambhava, Nanaka, Rama, Vaasudev, Vyasa, Ramananda, Muhammad, Moses, Ramalinga, Patanjali and Gandhi. Foundation course: Shriram Sharma. Osho. Kripaluji. Satya Sai Baba. Baba Ramdev. I wondered if Asharam, Ram Rahim and Rampal etc were merely adept actors or something of order of solitary confinement did happen to me. I was deprived of sleep, food and given shock treatment by gray aliens in the darkest nights. Let it be known to all who read: Death is dead. Covid is dead. Dick Laurent is dead.

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Dark Matters!

How blind were power hungry politicians. Until Atal was in power his style was mimicked by the rest. As soon as he went out of the business: he fell ill and forgotten. Shah started mimicking Modi and others started mimicking him in rallies. Rhetoric. I was not surprised: they knew only this way. I had observed my siblings copying my father. When I showed it to them: it had a two fold effect. I would use the same technique to fight shyness. They said. Then they began attacking me for being deviant. I was not an ant of Devi but rather Anant. An ant on Pennant. I would have to be careful. You are reading my mind and seem interested. I can tell this much: it’s a jungle of memes and instead of realising the essence we get attached to forms. If not family or friends– memes from art and culture take over. Ramayana and Mahabharata are art forms which engage people so much that they are able to spill blood. Another art is art of creating Patriots. They are conditioned by system using intoxication. Then reverse conditioning is needed to feed masses who are vicariously enjoying the thrill of martyrdom but can’t really dare to kill. Bhagwad Geeta can be interpreted anyway: Gandhi who championed the non-violence considers it to be a battlefield of mind where evil is subdued by good. Right wing says: you would have read that it was all a dream as in case of other stories like sage Markandeya witnessing Matrix by grace of Godhead.

Rahu Hullabaloo loopah.

I woke up in a container. Someone had called police. A Burlesque man had killed another with a Lance. Lancelot patios ios soiree reefer fey. In the new version: everyone was busy playing some games or the other. I found none of them suitable for me so I invented my own. And even when it resembled the games they were playing it was unique. It had a life of its own. They checked my right arm. As soon as they put some solution on it- there came a great amount of steam. I was quarantined. I had been waiting. I knew the charade for I was the designer. Exploring the facility. My grandmother who was naked most of nights because of excessive lust for her husband died some 50 years ago used to prey upon me. A pervert. I found her in the quarantine. I kept exploring the facility. It had a clean toilet and plenty of food which was distributed punctually. What else a nomad like me needed. I sang a nobody is nobody and a monody can be converted into a threnody if dying monopoly allows it to be. I used to play on the piano. I woke up in a dream. It was a strange dream. A realm of possibility. I had been to the bathroom. I was going to search for the urban itching for my bike was stolen. I rode a friend’s bike. I woke up in a garden. The Heather and the lemon grass. Kids wanted to play but I was concerned about their safety. I was distressed that the ground was muddy.

Dark matters!

You decide Take this key,
And this package
Which will make you invisible
Hide behind the wall over there She said. I woke up again  I was wondering if I could cross over the sewage line being dug on my way to search the thief. Then I found myself on the very ride I was looking for. It was strange but steam was still coming out of my arm. I woke up at the bench. Then in the container. Then I found myself on bed. It soon seemed like a Jacob’s ladder rungs though I had no recollection of its initiation. Though thrill it was enervating beyond limit. I was becoming delirious and nauseated. Seated on my chair I kept puking frequently and rocking it. I kept on falling down. Rabbit hole bit me last six months. I was distracted.

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I see the naked emperor!

1. Malkin was archaic for an old woman or mop. I came across it as I was looking up grimalkin: cat or greymalkin.

Greymalkin Malkin

Grimalkin kin

Mall besides desi design

Signature alkaline

Wild card

Wild cat

Auto cad

Maleficent grim reaper

Cent percent cenotaphs.

2. I had tears for a kid. A kid dreaming to make it big in the world of Cricket. Skid id . The childhood was eaten up by alcoholic beverages and domestic violence. He absconded multiple times to fulfill his dream of becoming a cricketer.

3. I see the naked emperor. I see the mob.

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The second harmonic

It was in evening. He was talking to her. The vehicles were passing by and his dancing body full of energy was in tune with with her. They were in the mood for fun. And there was mysterious foreboding about something. The thing that happened. Made them feel as if their lives had become a conundrum. It was not lives it was actually one life. The only way to solve it was for them to live together. And they were living in the hearts of each other the physical separation was not something which could be done away with at that moment. And that was the way Wendy started to live with them. And Jessica … Events took turn when she least expected them She was there with them when the baby was born and her life was never the same again. What had they become and what were they going to become only the home of the mystery new or perhaps even it didn’t That remains to be seen. The scenery was becoming picturesque They had a feeling that they were not alone, but that too was part of the game. The game unique game and they were scoring too much too soon. And now they were laughing at their own jokes. But underneath there was another layer of Ideas ceiling But they seemed to be doing the same all over again. Why did the love it’s so much? They had been doing role-play for many years now even decades and yet they felt as if they were new to each other. … Rumpled stilted skin skinny Skillet let them do what they Desire And they did it with gusto and rhythm. The Rhythm Divine Wayanad Ananda Danish trim The rhythm of love. Which flew from their hearts Not to mention the fact that the fog was thick. Not going anywhere. It seemed aimless and naive. Then all of a sudden it just went away. dream like reality was becoming a Nightmare for Some Nights What made it worse is that they couldn’t agree on the dream. The-dream Ram realm of infinite happiness opened for them for once and for all … She was always there for him and yet he felt as if it was only one moment when their eyes noticed each other. … Their story was coming to a happy conclusion. …

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Temperature dropped again.

1. Ajit Jogi and Bezaan Daaruwaala leave.

2. I met an octagenerian. He used to live here as a tenant. The fact that I began reading literature written by Shriram Sharma and continued reading it till I left for Kota, Rajasthan for the preparation of JEE was made possible by him. He had an ample amount of literature which he had purchased during the 1992 Ashvamedh Yajna. He was an officer in the education department. A martinate. A bit peevish. He’s currently suffering from consumption, like my grandmother . The meeting today was brief.

3. There was again a lightning episode yesterday which killed three young men in a village nearby. They were in their farmhouse for picnic.

4. Temperature dropped again. On May 13, it was for the first time: I participated in the prayer meeting. I was enjoying a bike ride in a thunderstorm and my uncle who had planned to join me had to drop out because of the weather after we had a visit to the temple of the Goddess.

5. Our matches are turning out to be low scoring these days. I expect that young people would understand apocalypse. I forget my multiple demises. I can’t keep my experience in mind while I communicate with them. Cricket.

6. Height experiments are fun to demonstrate. I was successful in showing it to 3 witnesses. My height is variable between two measures. It has been consistently so.

7. As I was weeding out the carrot grass: I saw a black monkey. It was near the mango tree. Near the green tomb of the saint. I uprooted 100 plants. I had conversation about Bengal : Karna, Mahabharata, Angadesha and devotional anecdotes. It was after my reading of rice cultivation.

8. The day was rich only because of the weather. Unless the temperature was bearable I wouldn’t have been able to write this note comfortably. I saw the maid on my walk back from the wilderness. She had sent her two daughters for work because she had injured her right hand middle finger. Similarly my uncle injured his while trying to chip the Supari as I was taking a nap on sofa on Sunday.

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Scorching Sun and The Shin Armor!

Scorching.

1. This is what scorching Sun feels like. The hot hell. The clouds against hazy skies are too scanty to contain the heat from reaching the Earth. Moreover: the night bounces back some radiation which is retained by the haze which is devoid of any moisture. You envy snowfalls and you make believe that with profuse sweating some of your sins would also burn. That future summers won’t be as hot. But it never works.

2. I tried making the little girl laugh with some stories : fictional enactment of an ice-cream seller sleeping because of hot summer. Her uncle gently knocks at his door to buy some and brings it back with some cold drinks. There are no permanent resting places neither any permanent sources of income.

Transmission Lines

3. I couldn’t curl the mosquito net back. The boy on the footpath had taught me but I seem to have forgotten. Mosquitoes didn’t bite my skin but they kept clouding my vision for many hours. It barely had space to stretch my legs yet air upstairs wasn’t as heavy as inside the room.

4. Kids keep playing on and off. They are subject their parents who are subject to whims of government who is subject to some mysterious phenomenon or a one world government conspiracy.

5. My business is thriving at present. I have invested and gained. My voice is a pleasant voice. Meaningful noises are paradoxical calculations. I plan nothing. Nothing happens.

6. This side of the town feels like the Texas of the No Country For Old Men

7. A shepherd is driving a bunch of seven goats towards pastures in the South West. A man with a red eye on a bicycle passes by towards East.

8. The shrubs are dancing and the limbic system is being titillated too often these days. It’s the seething blood of reptilian humanoids. The shin.

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Mosquitoes espalier moose Syracuse excuse meme mega gasoline.

Danseuse masseuse Usenet

Netsuke nettled kettle

Tenet Benet Benedict Cumberbatch

Cucumber una bomber

Acanthoid lycanthropy

Scandent indent entomologist

Logistics logoi oily lyrics

Oeillade ladle ladder rungs

Tabor taboret rey tigereye

Eyeball snowball ballpark private eye

Grippe gripe ripe frippery

Kevin Perry

Timothy leery

Eerie rye

Bye and bye

Sly sky Kyle leeway wayward naumachia chiasmus Muskegon Michigan Ganymede gonfalon falchion falcon Cavill villager Germaine country tryst stylus lustrous tumultuous omnibus succubus busted colophon honeycomb discombobulated odalisque seraglio lionized zed eyes.

Peignoir neoteric rickshaw Hawkshaw scrimshaw hawker Chieftain tainted fiefdom domicile

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Wordplay of the day!

Caryatid tidbits doing foin without

Bit coin .

Dreck Mandrake Madeira made era

Mad ida diadem pingala alacrity.

Rinse sequin Quincy springe.

{ Observing the word Atheling in the third chapter of Alice Adventures…By Lewis Carroll I realized it was akin to methinks not a recent invention. }

Sick duck wick wicker

Kerchief chieftain kickbacks

Snip snap Knick knack

Acknowledge zed eye iodied doddering.

Gracile miasma tensile plasma

Smartphone smarmy army

Moxie eidolons onslaught

Laughter terse omniverse

Berisi mili tude of an et ude.

Six sigma ursine cinema

Nematodes despondent entomology

Gyrating thing hongee gee

Hinged education in noisome mesuga

Sugar coated yes men mensueyude yes stalks .

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47 Minutes@÷

I was not the same when I had a difficult time believing that one day reading my own words would become the greatest source of inspiration to me. Now as I read myself: I find a most authentic and most trustworthy source of inspiration which is more than merely surface consciousness. There was a time when I remembered all that I had written. I recall that day in Bhopal when I told SV about having scribbled 35 pages at stretch. And I retained all that I had written. I was confident that I recalled all that I had spoken or written down. That was also the reason why it didn’t give me the inspiration or sheer joy to read myself back. Now it’s a different matter. My bandwidth has increased. And I find new gems: soothing and comforting to my body and mind. My pure body of gnosis grows vast.

Hide and Seek!

Birds are chirping and singing. A drilling machine makes noise in the hands of a carpenter working in the neighborhood. He has been working for many days. This body has been sweating incessantly as I sit under the shed of tin foil.

Miss communication is so rampant. It made me drive a few blocks. I have broken a few of my resolves recently: like- no sleeping during the day, no consuming of milk products, no Kurkure or sweets and sweat is so near to sweetmeats.

I need to burn oil lamps under an Ashwath tree at the time of the Twilight as it’s a Saturday and retrograde Saturn must be appeased. I hear distant sirens of buses and dogs barking. Clouds have been playing hide and seek with the Sun. I tried listening to A Scandal in Bohemia but it didn’t create the requisite effect. I need to read the newspaper aloud to grandma for appeasing her demons. But only after I have had an instant coffee. Riding the bike goes with instant coffee and bike had a dry battery today because of the heat. I registered for another edX course on Ebola pandemic and I plan on finishing it up by the end of the next week.

A subtle soft chirping of crickets is audible. I keep asking myself: was this day a success? What were the key events of this day?

Vaidhri ti is not considered a good Nitya Yoga and a lot of planets are retrograde. I read Bhagvat Puran and sang Gayatri Mantra early morning. Yesterday evening drizzle only increased the humidity in the environment therefore the last two days felt extremely hot. I burnt some garbage and cleansed the pig dung along with soot. Ambulance sirens are audible and an acau seed pod flies high. It’s the most potent seed pod I have observed naturally because instead of birds it does its own job. No wonder the whole nine yard is full of new acau shoots whereas we had chopped them off. It wasn’t possible to uproot them. I hesitate in doing that again. My objective is primarily to keep drainage lines clean and the ground in a situation which lets kids enjoy the game without making them injured or fatigued. I hurt my right leg thumb and it bled during a fielding session where I saved some runs. The reason? Accumulation of small stones and pebbles on ground during the severe lockdown version 2. Those debrees are still waiting to be cleared out. Now kids don’t contribute into cleansing the ground. I invited them to participate in the cleaning ritual to inculcate a good habit in them. We cleansed for 5 minutes everyday and since we were 10 or more people it was about an hour of work everyday.

Observing that they were reluctant, I stopped asking them. And you might be surprised how thorough I am in reaching to conclusions regarding public affairs where I am the one in charge: I wanted one of them to say it: that they didn’t want to give their five minutes everyday for cleaning. We were playing for about 90 to 100 minutes at the time. After relaxation in the lockdown 3.0 we started playing again and none of them came forward to offer help in keeping the ground clean. Having previously witnessed their reluctance I only considered it normal to let go and continue doing it myself. Nobody likes policing. I have been doing garbanzo beans for about six months this season and yet polyethylene, leaves, stones and wood is piling up in the drainage lines.

I need tools. Individuation wasn’t as miraculous as living fluid in the schizopolis but it keeps you safe. Of what use a rotten system of Tantra in India is : since it depends on clothes, hair, tuft, classes and money along with lots of swearing. I understand why humans are crown of creation. I also understand why education is so important. I also realise how kabbalah is essentially Bhagvat dharma. Easy eradication of delusional superstition is much preferably superior to fathomless dark night of pseudo religions where nobody understands meaning of any words but talks a lot.

Time taken- 47 mins

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Scab abysmal small vow can cow say wow?

It was etymological delight to discover that Scab had two meanings which related in a creative way. I was the link, soot, or sutra or sutra tma.

I refer to the Merriam Webster dictionary online: Scab

Entry : 2 and 3.b.2.3.4.

A crust on a wound which is nature’s way of healing. As well as a union worker who returns to work before the strike is over. I’d like to sell it for the likes of me like this:

A wound is the viewpoint: nature or Karma cafe being prime, like the government number one being the cause of scarcity management in the demand and supply chain or the nature in its harsh form or the calamity times: strike takes double meaning: one from the nature on body and the other on the livelihood. The scab being the protective sheath becomes the strike breaker.

I don’t recall on which of my previous blogs I wrote about this and when but whenever– it did seem like a big achievement to find a novel association in English dictionary.

Can more than two swords be kept in a scabbard? The Hindi saying says:no. How about two daggers? Or three…or more?

If I thank James Harbeck’s blog after every post for inspiration: I would be called a loyal dog at best. And a thief otherwise.

A cow died. Overdosing on plastic bags. Politicians promise to ban it. It has been a long time. Cow is an utilitarian device in the name of religious education. Nobody cares for a stray cow.

Here is a picture of mature Aries Sun. The Atmakaraka entering into the Bull:

Time taken: 22 M 45 S