silent bubbles.

The waves sparkling with thousands of silver stars , the reflection of early morning sun ,spread itself as frothy milk as it touched the sands .As the main waves withdrew back to the sea, the drenched sands were covered with bubbles of all shapes and sizes that lost all its air in few seconds and lay spent on the biscuit coloured sands ,wetting it even more as it gave up its identity in its very short  lived life.

Brithrahari the 1 cent AD philosopher poet king 's observation as he sat meditating on the banks of ganga at Haridwar ,that life was like bubbles ---budhdudha  of a rapidly flowing stream came to my mind as my feet soaked in the cool water  on a warm day and inhaled the restless energy  of the relentlessly crashing waves  as well as the gentle eternal calm of the deep waters,beyond. Both, facets of nature.

There were  couples  with kids ,playing in the waves , an old lady laughingly chiding her grandson who was caught unexpectedly in a  wave and was rolled around.Groups of young men playing cricket and several others practising silambhaatam--traditional fighting with sticks,and few others executing gymnastic tricks and fishermen unloading their  catch from their small catamarans--.A black butterfly flitted just above the spray , flirting with it ,seemingly taking a dangerous flight path.

Innocent faces of blissful ignorance was to be found everywhere. Creased at the most with the worry of having to attend office tomorrow after the leisurely weekend.How i wish that i could gather their innocence and ignorance wrought by ordinary normal  mundane but  comforting existence and smear it over  and regain my own.A lanky horse and its rider came near , searching eagerly for children's  his customers .The good old proverb came to mind -If wishes were horses i would be riding it .

The wall of silence i had erected around myself was breached exactly an year back and was slowly chipped away .Of what use  is that to me or to those around? It seems only death has been visiting periodically ,ever since, then.

Before i was haunted only by the death of my son but now the deaths elsewhere unconnected to me yet in a round about way linked to me has started to haunt me as well.
How i wish that i am really a paranoid, scizhoid, delusional lesbian cum transgender and treated precisely as such as per the rumours floated around me and not what i am actually being perceived by those desperate for power.

PPT's and immoral and unethical media houses  ,life of innocents , civilians is nothing to be trifled with , whoever and which ever side they may be.

Who is the maniac who is in the centre of this all? The deciding authority of the information gathered from me , from my conversations and even the contents of the stories i read.Use me if at all [i seem to have no say]only for creative purposes and never  for destructive ends.

The thread.
1. 22.5.13--Decided and stated aloud that it was my 'Karma 'that no one near me is wiling to believe the bugs, tapes etc.

2.24.5.13 ---in a telephonic conversation with my brother delved in past .The fact of our childhood pal returning to normal life after a brief stint as a Naxalite in AP.That of a famous neighbour marrying a tribal woman which was disliked by his father an up Brahmin'.of course i could overhear some one else's breathing and sharp intakes.


Earlier my conversations were very brief and never into the past.

3. 25 th noon read    'Ants 'a short story on tribals by the Oriya writer Gopinath mohanty  in 1940 ,about smuggling of rice by tribals owing to starvation and the hero an officer'tracking them down the jungles to book them for crime against state, but dropping it with a sudden  change of heart on seeing their pathetic forms.

Just who has this unbridled power and right not derived from any law ,to read what i read in my leisure?

4. Night got the news of the death of ex salwa judam chief and several congress men[collateral damage?] at the hands of Maoists.
I immediately caught a cold and at same time burned with fever.My facial muscles tightened and earlier weepiness was replaced by anger bubbling ,forth.

Only a bhasmasuran will work thus.Every party seems to have one at its midst.The  difference is in the scale of wounds inflicted  on self and causalities caused as collateral damage.

A line of co incidences and i am absolutely paranoid ,thinking my house is rigged and bugged and  under covert surveillence and totally delusional in stringing them together and arriving at illogical and irrational conclusions which is nothing but the sustained efforts of kgb and co to show my true colours to the faithfuls.All nothing but bubbles.

I dearly and very clearly hope so.What a relief that would be ..
.