I am not going to tell you what I know.
But if you ask me, I will tell you.

Awlrawk's Footnotes

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The object of desire

Pink. Pink is the color of desire, of lust, a craving... an obsession. A wanting. As you close your eyes and meditate on it, there is a small burning sensation in the stomach, not pain, but a desire, a wanting. The mere imagination of possession brings satisfaction, happiness- weightlessness.
A sweet fragrance. The aroma travels right inside and works its magic. The taste must have been sweet, the sweetest sweet. The sight was obsessive. Streams of pink were flowing, pure pink- it was the highest degree of craving, an addiction. The nerves were pulling. The limbs became weak. It was difficult to stand. There was a strange sensation all over the body. Down the throat traveled the fragrance and the taste.
Next came blue. Brightest blue. Illuminated blue. Strange bright blue. Hypnotic light it brought. It traveled up the brain, spread all over the head and left me numb. There was absolute silence all over. All the commotion, all the clatter, all the violence, all the disappointment, all the sadness was answered for.
And then the fingers went cold. Memories were haunting. Memories of possession. The object of desire. All the golden moments shared, it was obsessive. I craved for it, I couldn’t live without it. There was great discomfort without it, restlessness, the heart was pulling. Right from the centre, the core, the hub, there was something that was coming out. An obsession, a wanting, a craving.
Experiencing it with closed eyes, waves of pleasure traveled right out of the body, great pleasure, and immense pleasure. I went out of consciousness. I dreamt. I was flying across the blackest black backdrop. And then I saw the colors. All the bright colors, the sweet sounds, and the taste- unforgettable. The experience was inexplicable. I was in paradise.
I could see the four walls when I opened my eyes, I could see the forest, the green forest, the paradise when I closed my eyes. I was lying down on solid ground and then it became liquid. I was slowly sinking down this thick viscous liquid. I went deeper and deeper still. I closed my eyes and remained. It was not fast, it was not disturbing, and there was no hurry. Slowly we went, gently. It was greatly comforting. I was forgetting. I was forgetting all the sadness, all the disappointment, all those failures, all the problems. I was slowly sinking in the sea, the thick sea. The liquid flowed gently over me. I lost sight. It was all dark. The aura was no more. Next I lost the smell, the aroma was no more. Next I lost my ears. I could not hear the liquid flow over me. I must have lost taste. Then I lost the sense of touch. No more feel of the sea. It was all silent. No motion, no commotion. It was all over. Just thoughts remained- thoughts of satisfaction, of happiness, of contentment. The object of desire. The idea of possessing it. The obsession it brought- the craving. It was all over.

It was the water and the splashing waves that I looked upto most rather than her. Waves formed, traveled, dashed and roared all at once. The wind blew like I was in a wind tunnel. And then, she came.

With a smile she sat next to me. We sat silently on that raised wooden platform that encroached into the waves' property. We sat on the edge and our legs from knees to heals lay hanging in the air-inviting the waves. Wind blew continuously.

"I have been thinking about you for the past few days".
I wondered how it was the Moon's gravity that actually caused the waves. I reminded myself that I had to learn to surf sometime soon. I also remembered that there was a Surfer's Journal.
And then I realized that there was someone next to me trying to talk. I looked at her and smiled.

"You are very likeable".
I smiled again, this time looking into the sea. I wondered where I could end up if I dived straight down and swam in a straight line till I found land. I figured I could miss the Andamans and end up in Indonesia or some place near that. From my knowledge in geography and cartography i pictured that at one particular angle i could even miss Indonesia and end up in Australia or better still- Antarctica!

"But I don't know if I really love you or not yaar".
I noticed subtle folds on her forehead. They were the symbols of deep thought and worry. Her eyes were deep and a small shade of sadness was evident. But it didn't sound like real worry. My thoughts now focussed on the relationship between thoughts and forehead folds. The mind does silly things. People put their tongues out while pouring water into a glass. People bite nails, people pop knuckles. The mind is really not as efficient as it should have been. Nevertheless, it manages to work. It could seriously consider some improvization now. It was about time. Our computer technologies and cell phone models evolve so fast they should put the mind to shame. They do evolve out of the mind though.

"I think any girl will like you yaar. You are very good. Any girl will fall in love with you also".
I smiled. A huge ship was sailing in the distance. I admired man for having managed to float such a massive object. I admired space for having managed to contain the Earth and everything for so many years now. I tried to picture how far 2 million light years actually was. That was how far Andromeda Galaxy was from us. It was our immediate neighbour. I kind of liked it when i saw its pictures a few times.

"But i don't think she can feel so for long. Anyone who falls in love with you will come out of it soon".
The breeze was carrying away her words but i managed to make out the statement. Sound was really just a longitudinal wave propagating in the air with compressions and rarefactions. It was a pity that it required a medium for travel. It meant that evolution didn't consider man making it to space. Evolution was either conservative or underestimated us.

"I don't know yaar. I just need more time, please".
I heard the word time somewhere. That word always took me deep into thoughts. I thought time was the only means of establishing any sort of change in the Universe. Someone told me that time was the means that carried information continuously. I always questioned the requirement of time.

Lehangooga and I : The reality

1)Who/what is Lehangooga?
2)How is the above question related to the ultimate question?

Let's make an honest attempt to answer these two very important and fundamental questions.
Shall we start first from the ultimate question?Well, the ultimate question has always been simple... "What is all this?"

All the philosophers over the past thousands of years who have landed on this crazy planet in the sub-urbs of our Average Joe galaxy have tried to answer this simple question.

What the heck is all this?

There seems to be some hidden deliberateness in why we don't generally ask this question. It is as though we are being cheated. We were programmed to "generally" not ask such things. Then why do a strange few spend their whole lifetimes searching the answer?

After getting so fine-tuned to getting up in the morning, having a cup of coffee and heading to the office , why should one ask the question? Well, the ones who actually search the answer will ask you back-First of all, why are you getting up every morning and rushing to your office?
YOU are leading your life, YOU are going to your office, YOU are working. Well, what the heck is all this? Why is all this happening?What am I? Why can I think?

A group of people were thrown onto an island. There were a lot of pebbles and lots of paper cups in the island. Soon, people got used to the island by putting the pebbles in the cups and then throwing them back and picking up another pebble and so on. A strange few however, reclined themselves to finding out where was it that they were thrown. When these people asked the rest of them why they were playing with the cups, they found it to be a strange thing to ask. Are you crazy? What do you mean why? This is me, this is what I do, this is how I live. I put pebbles in papercups. They also shot them with a barrage of other questions like- why are you not putting pebbles in papercups? How do you think you can live by not putting pebbles in papercups? why do you search for the answers for questions which cant be answered?And so on...

Lehangooga and I : The Story

If I would ever get stranded on some desolate island in the remotest corner of the world with only one companion offered, then it would most certainly be her. For I would be complete with her, even without my Raymond's suit. If one could, with craftsman like precision, cut out everything from my life except her and do the same to her too, neither of us would miss a thing, for we formed a system, a closed system. The jargon in which we spoke, our gestures, our system of nomenclature, and our humor, all made people wonder if we inadvertently crash-landed onto this planet from deep space. Some others wondered if we were furtively connected with mysterious invisible cables. While in a group, I would suddenly make a statement completely out of context, which would be more like a radio signal I was flashing in the air, and she would be the only one who would receive the modulated signal at my frequency. She would then reciprocate with a gesture or statement of recognition and that reaffirmed our stand. So, the fact of the matter being that I loved her company and she loved mine, I contemplated on why it was so. The result of that contemplation is this document.
If I ever felt like a magician, a black magician to be precise, it was when she was around. Often times I was able to carve out future like a meticulous sculptor, the way I wanted it. Wanting her company, I would camp at a convenient location, not for long though, it would be a transient wait. For, she would come. Just ten meters straight now and then a turn to the left. Another ten meters straight and I am waiting for you. These would be my telepathic instructions, and she would come. She would walk at a brisk pace, which would slowly become a leisure stroll as she approached me. Simultaneously, a smile would start to germinate on her face, a smile, which would culminate in my presence. Was she shy or was it a shade of guilt? Probably it was a last minute beautification. She would stand bravely in front of me, her hands over her hips and her head slightly tilted to the right and she would then ask if we could go for coffee. I always wondered whose line it was. I thoroughly enjoyed walking with her to the cafe. She would walk pushing along her bicycle and I walked freely. Sometimes, I pushed her bicycle for her. We were the world.
If, for some unknown reason, my sense of smell were to be removed forever and if I had one last opportunity to smell, then it would surely be her. The sense of smell is supposed to be closely connected to the memory part of brain, which is why familiar smells so often remind us of memories of places or things or incidents. She smelled like happiness. She smelled like perfect satisfaction. When with her, I made it a point to stay close to her and smell her often, for those were the elysian moments. It was not the perfume, it was her. She smelled divine. I also, for another unknown reason, made it a point that I never told her how good she smelled. Perhaps it wasn't a very good thing to say to a girl that she "smelled" great. What complemented the smell was, without doubt, the voice. It wasn't a perfect voice at all. The beauty of her voice came encrypted in that imperfection. It was there to notice, if you cared enough. And surely enough, I did care. The voice used to reverberate inside my head for hours together after a meet and I could not think or do anything during that interval of time. Yet, it wasn't an inconvenience, it was a pleasure. There was a subtle stress in the way she uttered every word. A tinge of worry accompanied it and it created loads of sympathy and shades of liking deep in the heart. She was magical. She was mysterious.
If I were ever allowed to freeze time forever, I would freeze that moment in the library when I held her hand in mine. She was comfortable with me. She trusted me. She would allow me to touch her. I remember how, at the library, she gave me her hand for examination. And I held it in both my hands, for it was a precious thing to hold. It was intimate. It was warm. We were close to each other, physically and mentally. And I examined her hand closely. People tend to have curvy semi-circle like white markings at the start of their nails. She didn't have them. Also, the skin below her nails was pale. Very pale. I told her that it was unusually pale and I took her hand even closer. And she watched me closely, with her chin resting on her hand and her hand resting on the table, while I held her other hand, right next to her, close to my face. I placed her hand above my right hand and with my left hand, I continued my examination. I went finger by finger, pressing each finger at the joints and then pressing them near the nails. Her fingers were soft. They were like wheat dough or fresh bread. For every press, I felt strangely ecstatic waves pass all over my body. That was when I regretted the fact that humans had only five fingers. All this while, I had the pleasures of the smell adding to it. If this would last for a hundred million years, and hundred million more, I would still not be tired of it. Yet, it was I who gave her back her hand and ended it. Probably she felt all those sensations too. Probably she wanted more too. Yet, I cherish them today because they ended soon and hence form a golden memory. Probably she cherishes those memories too.
If I were to describe her on a small piece of paper, the text on that paper would be something similar to the text that follows. In the glow of the dark while the gentle night breeze carries her lingering perfumes to me, and drenches me in her aura, and while she looks into my eyes with an innocent smile, I take her into my arms with a warm hug and make her sense the comfort of staying with me. I show her orion and Taurus and those deep sky objects. As she gently falls asleep in my arms, I caress her gentle soft cheeks, which are absolutely smooth, like the sand dunes of a hot desert. I am greatly satisfied when she is in my presence. The sheer flow of emotions as I look at her face has shaken me for eternity. I remember those magical moments when I inserted a strange sense of wonder telling her tales of the outer worlds and the remote sense of fear in her face instantly turning into a golden sense of comfort as she held my arms and put her face into me. It is miraculous how close we got to each other. The gentle laughter she produces and the sound it produces is rather like the flow of a river stream amongst those grey rocks. And her smiles are carried to me by those gentle winds. As the full moon glows, so does her face and perhaps I could keep looking into her the whole night without the very concept of sleep. She is perfect. She is pure. The sweet scent which I can smell when I am close to her face tends to make me insane with ecstasy. I would like to do that a million times and still want to do that. Truly spectacular it was as we spent magical hours by the seaside without speaking a word. Mere presence gave us the joy of life. Oh! How I thank God for having given me his best gift.
If you asked me about the most confusing day of my life, i would tell you about that day. She had her bicycle and i was walking. She started riding it ans asked me to sit at the back. Now how would you handle the situation of being asked to sit at the back of a girl's bicycle on a hot sunny afternoon in a certain south Indian city? You can, for once, handle the situation by accepting the invitation. Yes, that is what i did too, though after a long session of my hesitation and her persuation. And so when i rebooted my consciousness that fine afternoon, i found myself hanging on to one end of a girls' bicycle with this girl in the driver's seat. She was , for some unknown reason , particualrly fresh and happy that day. It was sort of uncomfortable, i must admit. I did mention it to her that it sounded like female exploitation on my part. She was somehow keen on having me at the back of her bicycle. And then started the events. She saw that i was not comfortable and asked me to hold the seat. Now, since she is already sitting on it, you know what happens next when i place my hands there! And exactly at that moment it started raining. Well, what do you know, she had an umbrella. She asked me to open it and hold it for her. When i held it, she complained that i did not cover and asked me to move closer and hold it over her shoulder. And i held it on her shoulders as it rained. We were again close, the moment was intimate. I wanted to speak out and tell it all to her. Then something happened to her and she lost control. She rid onto the mud nearby and lost control. To avoid the cycle falling on me and i falling over her, i got off. We both were speechless. We were close. I looked at her. She possessed me at that moment. I belonged to her and she belonged to me. This was my moment. Now i had to speak out. And then came Lehangooga. He took her hand, made her sit behind him in his bicycle and rode away to the horizon.
If there was one place i wished to go to, it was the horizon.