Early Morning Musings Part 7

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What is living? One would ask a scientist who would describe it as being alive- a negative in the sense of not-dead. A situation where the DNA has no ability to replicate and pass on. Though that may be functional and the truest sense, that is too mundane for any drunken writing.

One can actually begin from the emotional sense. Or, when do you feel the truest alive? Or when do you generally enjoy the feeling you are experiencing? That is probably one among many instances that being alive felt ecstatic. What surprises me is the political memory- where people forget the injustices of four years for the sops of the election year. Men forget the pain of any preceding time-period to experience joy. In the sense that the joy is the award for the pain. Why? Why? Why do they think that joy and pain are a couple? What fucked up our collective psyche so much as to accept this insidious ‘pair of opposites’? And who decides the equanimity of magnitude? What is the SI unit?

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Anish woke up in the middle of the night. I want a drink he said. He got up careful not to wake up his partner, and went to the study. There he opened the upper shelf and took out a crystal bottle of amber cognac. Even in the faint blue light of the night-lamp, the amber shone like a prohibited carnal pleasure.

He slid the digests to take out his hidden glass. Poured a liberal amount of golden ambrosia and gulped it down. Sweet. Sustenance. Seductive. Necessary. His tongue, throat, stomach and groin felt noticeable pleasure. Fuck. Nice.

He filled another- careful not to spill anything on the carpet. He could not sleep. But he could drink.

He switched on the TV. Fuck, again Sasubai. He changed the input to Prime. He couldn’t choose. He switched off the TV. He took a gulp.

Maybe I need a divorce. Well, he couldn’t technically get a divorce. But a separation. Wtf. How did he reach this thought? The sex was good. Work for both of them was good. He wasn’t bored of Shweta. Why did that thought even cross his mind?

He took a gulp.

Was he so bored in life that he had to place the balance of burden on his fuckingly hot partner? No! Then why?

He sighed, poured some more, and switched on the TV to watch a son torture his mother. To sleep off means to confront the truth in the morning. Brandy and Babdya were easier to bear.

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