Time & other things...

Night. Thoughts of time. Who decided on that pause and how long it should be, one second to the other. Why sixty seconds, why sixty minutes, why twenty-four hours? Because of the sun, because of the moon? Why anger, why grudge, why time sends its hands onto us with such aggression. And then all the puppets on the floor dancing to its rhythm trying to keep up with money & appointments. In the final earth, the redemption will be for the one who has no recollection, interest or concern for time. Its these puppets I am scared of most. These humans... the ones who live for time and money, those idiots who say "time is money" and those strangers I thought I knew. How way off the mark I am... how far out on the periphery I stand. Looking... its time to get away again.

And then I remembered the high points of the evening, Ji To Ke and his yellow-insulation tape on his temples, making him more oriental than he already is, the disgusting job of telling him about the disgusting job, that last analysis of Reverse Khan, Nimhans employees analysing that cigarette butt for hints and clues and that ongoing dream of Jigaanthar and me speaking in viscera, all gibberish, like the heart's air, like the Dara Okat monologues, that field of lilies and those 24 frames per hour of a mysterious face at sunset time...