Well, its not too often that I get a fever or the thermometer graces my day with a 102 degree reading, especially when the day itself did not leave any stone unturned to cause a cataclysm of molten ego and murky self-esteem. Somehow, I have this sadistic liking for an achy throat coupled with this hot and heavy head and not to mention the burning carcass; for once without hope or desires or notions. I think a fever is the most sincere way in which a human body responds. It has no pretense, no denials and not an ounce of self-glorification.
Its as if you are lying on a sacrificial altar blindfolded and waiting... Waiting for that final stab or cut or stroke which supposedly has a higher purpose. Maybe, the body is doing you a big favor out of sympathy or even pity. Its draining you of all your numb emotions, eroded pride and raising you up towards a peak of just a single and physically realized back-draft. Here the only thing you know, realize, formate and accept is the surging heat through your being that incinerates everything in its way and keeps you wrapped within its womb.
You watch the window, the tablets, the fan, the blank ceiling but don't see them. You hear cars honking on the street, the mango vendor screaming or the crows fighting over a dead something but still, you do not listen. Why? Because for once you are in touch with your true sensibilities and consciousness. As the fever increases, so does your awareness but the only thing is, we feel so overpowered by our defensive physical responses that we somehow fail to see what our mind has in store when the body touches a 104 degrees. But hey! At least I am still writing...
Lets take for example a lawyer, a lover and a magician. The lawyer is lying on his bed with countless "well-wishers" surrounding him(they have a pending case of course). But, does he think about the spoils he would rope in once he convinces the judge that the utter nonsense he says is the truth? No! The only image he probably has is a blurred outline of a someone or even something which had given him a purpose that he willfully lost in the cat and mouse game of "guilty as charged." But, even his sharp sense of logic or his habit of systematic perseverance fails to help him realize the vision. Why? Since, he is too involved in negotiating with the pain and physical discomfort. Just imagine if he actually could see beyond that, if he could negate this constricted physical response and cross the line... He probably would not be a bastard of a lawyer anymore!
Lets talk about the lover in the subsequent paragraph. For now the magician has held my attention and no, he is not on stage pulling out a rabbit. He is lying in his tent surrounded by his pigeons and rabbits and cards- but without a trick. Is this the man who could hypnotize a lady and make her talk like Caesar? Is this the great illusionist who could vanish castles and summon spirits? Yes, he is the one. But, what is he now? A hapless child on the palms of a temporary ailment who even fails to see what his own spirit feels like due to his physical preoccupation. The summoner of spirits is not spirited himself. The one who used to enthrall august audience with his hypnotism is himself in a delirious trance and too weak to move. What is he thinking? Upcoming shows, new tricks? Hahaha probably not! The only thing he can think of is any possibility of his own tricks curing him of the condition. Yeah that sounds lame but trust me, a 105 can easily bend a resolute backbone into submission and a magician is no different because after all he is a slave of physics and chemistry who just knows how to present them in a good wrapper.
Aaah! Finally!!! Its the cupid struck heart in a fever ridden body of possible expectations or even selflessness(its a rarity though). This is the most significant sample. It is said that in some ancient civilizations priests would cut open the bodies of two dead lovers to see if there is any difference of biological constitution from the normal or any sort of a divine manifestation in them which caused them to be so much 'in love' during their lifetime. If they found anything is still unknown, but one thing I can tell you with certainty this is the time when the lover experiences the most sincere and self-preserving feeling called "selfishness". I am not talking about it in the mundane or conventional sense but in a very objective manner. Why do we love? Why do I love the woman I do and why does the woman love me or not love me or feels in between the two? I love because the feeling of loving someone makes 'me' feel overwhelmingly good and lets me foresee the future. Had love been an established and proven failure in 100% of cases but branded as 'good' I doubt whether poets would waste their imagination or lovers their money or blood or tears on it. A mother loves her child because she feels good about it, because she went through the pains of labor and the child is the tangible fruit and because she dreamt and weaved a future together with him or her. Had this been a matter of total sacrifice without any intangible rewards or future or hope then I am certain that overpopulation would just be an urban legend.
Why does the woman feel in love, not in love or confused? Because there IS something in it for her(intangible, certain, formless but pleasant, secure and satisfying) or there is the lack of it. Had it been a controllable and voluntary option, she would rather do something more 'fulfilling' than be the keeper of a problematic heart full of burdens. Now, the lover has a 106 degree fever and he is crouched in a corner in his balcony. He chants the name of his beloved like its an omnipotent variation of paracetamol or thinks about her balmy, soothing touch on his flaming head. Or he just sits there in physical agony unable even to go till his bed. How different would it be if he could in some way filter out the physical pain and discomfort and just feel that unified feeling surging through his body? What would he see? What would he experience? What would his sub-conscious reveal? Will it be a newly realized feeling of selfless love where the only thing he would want is to give?
Oh wait! Even that is selfish because he feels good about it... Or maybe he would not think of love at all but just float in a semi-conscious state with all the uncertainties, humiliations and agony magnified(like in a hall of mirrors). I have another idea! He probably would keep sinking into such a level of consciousness where there is no pain, no agony and no suffocation but he just feels numb. Ignorant of anything that till a few hours back killed his very being, negated his existence or mocked his purpose. At least he loses his physical consciousness devoid of all negativity!
And when the scheming lawyer, the bizarre magician and the ardent lover possess a single body surging with a 108 degree fever; they become all the same... The pulse dropping, heart beat collapsing and eyes half-shut as if in prayer. At least for once they all pray for the same thing- eternal peace and a freedom from a cage of forms, tears, flesh and unlimited wants. They become perfectly unified when the throat belches the last breath with a click and the eyes roll back. What are they now? Who are they? Mere names on certificates? Memories of convenience?
They are just beings who lived their lives in a fit of selfish fever so potent that they failed to crossover even when freedom was just a yard away. So, the next time the mercury rises and the paracetamol comes out of your shelf to give you a temporary relief, call a doctor if you are in love with being in want. But, just by chance if you are looking for something beyond yourself then 'ride the fever' that you have within you and for once start feeling it. For one day you just might cross over and find that no one created light but the light was always there...
Its as if you are lying on a sacrificial altar blindfolded and waiting... Waiting for that final stab or cut or stroke which supposedly has a higher purpose. Maybe, the body is doing you a big favor out of sympathy or even pity. Its draining you of all your numb emotions, eroded pride and raising you up towards a peak of just a single and physically realized back-draft. Here the only thing you know, realize, formate and accept is the surging heat through your being that incinerates everything in its way and keeps you wrapped within its womb.
You watch the window, the tablets, the fan, the blank ceiling but don't see them. You hear cars honking on the street, the mango vendor screaming or the crows fighting over a dead something but still, you do not listen. Why? Because for once you are in touch with your true sensibilities and consciousness. As the fever increases, so does your awareness but the only thing is, we feel so overpowered by our defensive physical responses that we somehow fail to see what our mind has in store when the body touches a 104 degrees. But hey! At least I am still writing...
Lets take for example a lawyer, a lover and a magician. The lawyer is lying on his bed with countless "well-wishers" surrounding him(they have a pending case of course). But, does he think about the spoils he would rope in once he convinces the judge that the utter nonsense he says is the truth? No! The only image he probably has is a blurred outline of a someone or even something which had given him a purpose that he willfully lost in the cat and mouse game of "guilty as charged." But, even his sharp sense of logic or his habit of systematic perseverance fails to help him realize the vision. Why? Since, he is too involved in negotiating with the pain and physical discomfort. Just imagine if he actually could see beyond that, if he could negate this constricted physical response and cross the line... He probably would not be a bastard of a lawyer anymore!
Lets talk about the lover in the subsequent paragraph. For now the magician has held my attention and no, he is not on stage pulling out a rabbit. He is lying in his tent surrounded by his pigeons and rabbits and cards- but without a trick. Is this the man who could hypnotize a lady and make her talk like Caesar? Is this the great illusionist who could vanish castles and summon spirits? Yes, he is the one. But, what is he now? A hapless child on the palms of a temporary ailment who even fails to see what his own spirit feels like due to his physical preoccupation. The summoner of spirits is not spirited himself. The one who used to enthrall august audience with his hypnotism is himself in a delirious trance and too weak to move. What is he thinking? Upcoming shows, new tricks? Hahaha probably not! The only thing he can think of is any possibility of his own tricks curing him of the condition. Yeah that sounds lame but trust me, a 105 can easily bend a resolute backbone into submission and a magician is no different because after all he is a slave of physics and chemistry who just knows how to present them in a good wrapper.
Aaah! Finally!!! Its the cupid struck heart in a fever ridden body of possible expectations or even selflessness(its a rarity though). This is the most significant sample. It is said that in some ancient civilizations priests would cut open the bodies of two dead lovers to see if there is any difference of biological constitution from the normal or any sort of a divine manifestation in them which caused them to be so much 'in love' during their lifetime. If they found anything is still unknown, but one thing I can tell you with certainty this is the time when the lover experiences the most sincere and self-preserving feeling called "selfishness". I am not talking about it in the mundane or conventional sense but in a very objective manner. Why do we love? Why do I love the woman I do and why does the woman love me or not love me or feels in between the two? I love because the feeling of loving someone makes 'me' feel overwhelmingly good and lets me foresee the future. Had love been an established and proven failure in 100% of cases but branded as 'good' I doubt whether poets would waste their imagination or lovers their money or blood or tears on it. A mother loves her child because she feels good about it, because she went through the pains of labor and the child is the tangible fruit and because she dreamt and weaved a future together with him or her. Had this been a matter of total sacrifice without any intangible rewards or future or hope then I am certain that overpopulation would just be an urban legend.
Why does the woman feel in love, not in love or confused? Because there IS something in it for her(intangible, certain, formless but pleasant, secure and satisfying) or there is the lack of it. Had it been a controllable and voluntary option, she would rather do something more 'fulfilling' than be the keeper of a problematic heart full of burdens. Now, the lover has a 106 degree fever and he is crouched in a corner in his balcony. He chants the name of his beloved like its an omnipotent variation of paracetamol or thinks about her balmy, soothing touch on his flaming head. Or he just sits there in physical agony unable even to go till his bed. How different would it be if he could in some way filter out the physical pain and discomfort and just feel that unified feeling surging through his body? What would he see? What would he experience? What would his sub-conscious reveal? Will it be a newly realized feeling of selfless love where the only thing he would want is to give?
Oh wait! Even that is selfish because he feels good about it... Or maybe he would not think of love at all but just float in a semi-conscious state with all the uncertainties, humiliations and agony magnified(like in a hall of mirrors). I have another idea! He probably would keep sinking into such a level of consciousness where there is no pain, no agony and no suffocation but he just feels numb. Ignorant of anything that till a few hours back killed his very being, negated his existence or mocked his purpose. At least he loses his physical consciousness devoid of all negativity!
And when the scheming lawyer, the bizarre magician and the ardent lover possess a single body surging with a 108 degree fever; they become all the same... The pulse dropping, heart beat collapsing and eyes half-shut as if in prayer. At least for once they all pray for the same thing- eternal peace and a freedom from a cage of forms, tears, flesh and unlimited wants. They become perfectly unified when the throat belches the last breath with a click and the eyes roll back. What are they now? Who are they? Mere names on certificates? Memories of convenience?
They are just beings who lived their lives in a fit of selfish fever so potent that they failed to crossover even when freedom was just a yard away. So, the next time the mercury rises and the paracetamol comes out of your shelf to give you a temporary relief, call a doctor if you are in love with being in want. But, just by chance if you are looking for something beyond yourself then 'ride the fever' that you have within you and for once start feeling it. For one day you just might cross over and find that no one created light but the light was always there...
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