25-26 August 18
A Pillar is there. She. A god can be either. It has been there ever since Dakshina Kashi happened. I slide curtain from my seventeenth floor to see rain. There is no rain. But its dark. Not dark of the night, clouds. They are going to be there for next six days.
It was a strange day, filled with particles in the air and motion. Breaths aren’t deep. Food is untimely. Months end is taking some time to be stable. Rakshabandhan came. My father’s sister was here. Her face swollen with emotion. I had seen here three and heard several times this year. This year she lost her son. He was drunk when he died. And lost her husband few months after.
Roberto Calasso’s work was new to me a week ago. But his writing made me dive. not just into the depths of myth. But Personally his narration has been a revelation. The way he skated past through stories like yesterday’s history taking big leaps yet still made it look like a game of see-saw. From Prajapati to Brahma, Rudra to siva and from Mahabharat to Buddha and in between sketching such lines that were filled with many colours that cannot be founded easily.
It is a wonder of a book for anyone who would like to get introduced to the world of Indian Myth, magic and sex.
Late night walk was half hearted. And as much I was sweating I kept thinking of a cheese burger. Somehow I reached my tree. And the moment I started stretching, all temptations were taken away.