Heroes Genesis

Villain is action, 

Hero only a reaction,

Devil is a proactive god, not afraid of taking risk....

-Pulastye 

What Made All The Difference

You know, lately, since I have lot of free time at my hands to think, my early life has been running before my eyes in a very different way. Of course we all remember our past and sometime think about it, but for me, these day, it runs across in slow motion, and in reruns. Perhaps an effect caused by practice of slow reading books, which I have been doing a lot recently. 

Slow reading, is when you read a book much much slower than your normal reading speed. Reading each line of book multiple times, word by word, emphasising and investigating each word; trying to figure out why writer used only this particular word, or trying to find meaning in the punctuation that writer used; or do a lot of reading about the author him self- like reading his autobiography, and read books on the country he was born in- it’s social structure and history, to get a hang of his thinking, so that each line of the book, that I am slow reading, becomes more meaningful. In this process many hidden meanings reveal themselves. Like they are revealed when writer is writing the book. Slow reading is painful, almost as painful as it was for the writer when he wrote the book, the book seems never to finish . 

This ‘slow reading’, seems to be affecting my thinking in some odd physical way. Everything seems to be slowing down around me, like I have more time to look at, and analyse, each action. It, simply, could be the age too; but, I am less willing to go with that explanation. 

This slow motion rerunning of early life is revealing past events in a new light. From such angles which earlier seemed unimportant and, therefore, were unexplored. For example, the other day I was thinking about my grand family at my father’s side and remembering each of my cousins. How we use to play together, the bonding with some, remembering which still makes me feel a little mushy, and play tussles with the others. I was recalling their behaviour, their mannerism; and in the present doing the assessment of each of their’s potential at that time. Some of them were much smarter than I was, and some were powerfully built and bold; I, on the other hand, was the meek one who would not speak much and get scared even looking at a cow and start crying. I recollected what each of them was doing now. To my Amazement, if one looks from social status and financial position point of view, I, the meek one, was doing better, far beyond any comparison, than all of them. 

Wondering what had happened that their and mine lives turned out to be so different I started looking back at the events which could, possibly, have made the critical difference. And I, in my opinion, was actually able to zero down on the key event which made the difference. 

I remembered that during the long summer noons in the village, when after lunch all my aunts took their naps with my cousins in tow, there was one woman who did not sleep, and neither allowed her children to sleep. My mother. All noon, while whole village slumbered, she taught me and my sister alphabets, number counting, and Hindi alphabets. All other children would be resting and charging their batteries for a boisterous evening of games and running around, me and my sister would be getting smacked on our heads when we made mistakes in learning. Those days, then, we thought as punishment, which only two of us had to endure while all other children were having fun. And presently, while thinking about all this, it suddenly hit me that those noons were the reason that my life turned out to be so different from my cousins’. 

When all of us were put in the school none of them could deal with it, they could not pick up at all, while me and my sister, because we were ready, prepared by my mother in those sleepless noons, flew. We caught teachers’ attention and they took us under their wings and supported us, while cousins were ignored as burden. It all became a vicious cycle for them, and turned out to be a virtuous one for us. And that small detour, there, made all the difference in our lives. 

I was little shocked, too, thinking about its randomness; such a small act of my mother made such a huge difference to my life, what if  she would not have done that. Like other mothers, she could very well have given preference to mid day rest, which, by the way, would have been well deserved because the days were very hard in village, full of physical labour. Three women of the house had to cook three meals a day for the family of twenty five and ten field hands (twenty kgs of wheat flour was rolled into flat bread each day, festival and sowing days were even bigger monsters), had to take care of dozens of barn animals, and look after two to three kids each. And yet, despite being not well educated her self, eighth pass, she had the good sense to gift us education. How lucky we were. Believe me or not but thinking all this I cried. 

And then I could recall many other things too that made huge difference to my life in a very fundamental way which were completely accidental. As they happened they, very well, could not have happened in even slightly changed circumstances, and my life would have been altogether different, and for worst. The fragility of occurrence of such life changing events actually scares me thinking about them. How tenuous are the links that connect various event and make good a life; if one link does not present it self at the right time life could remain much smaller, and definitely much less meaningful. 

-Pulastye

DP

 If your DP is any indication, you have very different kind of fantasies. Rooted in unreal which is closer to abstract than fantastical. 

Nature features prominently, but as a background. It is there only as a revolt against the confinement of what is human-made, you do not truly feel part of nature too, you just hate man-made too much. Your preference of it is relative, because, for the moment you believe, it is less harsh than what is man-made! But harsh it is none-the-less. 

Nature is around you only as a vague feeling of non-confinement (being free!); detailing nature, for you, is unnecessary-no flowers or colours, because you are not into it; you desire its abundance and treat it with indifference- take it for granted, like everything that is in abundance- air, sunlight - is taken for granted. It has its value only because its absence would hurt.  

In the wild, on a partially gloomy day with take-away coffee in hand- give me the comfort of modernity but keep me free from its perils- and a bunny for a companion! Not too enamoured with human beings! Are you? Your need from them is only of cuddling, not of association. I need love, but I do not lean; toys not tools. Because, among the living, cuddling necessitates association, you would rather have a bunny than a human (A child over a grown human, perhaps!), that would fulfil an emotional need at a much lesser cost for you.

A self image which needs very little extraneous validation because no one is found worthy.

-Pulastye

Past

Emotional value of past never remains the same. It keeps increasing as the distance from the past increases. Memories are subject to a process of continuous filtration, with time fewer keep becoming more and more prominent.  

More distant the past becomes more glorious it seems, happy and sad both. Ever wondered why everyone finds one's childhood so alluring, because that is the most distant past one has.

-Pulastye

Canada

 I can see from the pictures the beauty of the land. Silvery waterways, endless verdure of temperate forest cover, azure glass of sky, wide highways with sparse human foot prints, all that of which the allure of nature's benign beauty is made of, where one wants to be lost for ever sublimating in to the elements. But remember, this is the same land which will turn in to evil witch in a white cloak once the winter comes. So,  be happy while mother nature is in good mood, before the time to hibernate returns.

-Pulastye

Place of Woman

 He often wonder, what is the difference between a man and a woman, not physically, or emotionally (which also is a form of physicality), but conceptually, from where all these physical differences have emerged. Seen purely from the basic utility point of view, woman is fundamental tool of propagation, more fundamental than man, because she carries the womb. Role of man could be eliminated by asexual reproduction, which is not so rare in nature, and by creating more benign survival environment which does not need physical strength of man (which is in control of nature too!). But, that’s not the route nature took. Perhaps, because the kind of brain capacity humans were endowed with they needed much larger canvass of interplay to put this capacity to proper use ( In inter species struggle.). Thus a larger cast was required with much more significant roles. Hence men were brought into the picture with specific role and responsibilities. But, the place of woman remained central as a primary bearer of life on this planet. Men were programmed for subservience to her. Hierarchy was drawn clearly, for it was not on woman to subdue man but they were naturally made subservient. In same way as a living being is subservient to food. As man may physically control the food but the need always is his, from the food, its never the other way round. The same is true for man and woman. Physical control is a sign of a deeper weakness of one who is trying to control. Where the relationship between two things is symbiotic, the need of control of one by the other is not seen if their mutual needs are in balance. It’s only when the need of one from the other is more and the symbiotic relationship is lopsided in favour of the other, that the one, more needy partner, is made physically stronger to wrest control from the other. 

-Pulastye

Power of Passion

Part of an old conversation, when a friend left a WhatsApp group: (And I still miss this friend often, extremely intelligent and  concerned,  whose presence was reassuring voice of sanity, until, one day, the friend decided to confront insanity in insanity’s own language of passion, and crossed over.):

“I don't know, in such cases trying to decide what is right always leaves me utterly confused. Unlike you, I can evoke no passion in such matters and that is a serious set back in choosing sides. Thinking running on the fuel of passion already knows it's direction. Then evaluation is not about right or wrong, it is about in favour or against. Which is easer to do. Without passion every step is a process of weighing, like checking the ground beneath before next step. I have tried passion route too. But couldn't separate good passion from bad one. Unfortunately, when something is burning you can't see its colour. And, I also met so many fanatics on that path that I was crushed with guilt to be in their company. But one thing I learnt, all form of passion thrives on response. So I try not to respond when I feel stink around me.

Sorry if it sounds overboard, but I think you gave the stink a bit of power by quitting the group.

You are being missed by most...one person made you to leave and so many others could not stop you; when passion renders more power to one vicious heart than so many loving ones, it got to be blind, don't you think?”

Stone Deity

 “I was innocent,

and then they came along,

they picked me, chipped me, carved me, elevated me..

gave me a name, made me alive.”,

said the bewildered stone, when God asked, “How a stone turned into a deity!”

-Pulastye

For Freedom Do Not Love

 *To be truly free, do not love.*

Water doesn’t, it never slows;

Wind doesn’t, it just blows;

Cloud doesn’t, it just flows.

Tree is stuck to earth for

It’s roots fall for soil,

Bird may soar, but must return 

to the nest to its foil.

To attain true freedom, 

One must love freedom, and nothing else.

Fulfilment and freedom can’t be together. 

*Fulfilment is a work of life time, freedom is living in the moment, free*. 

Freedom is the price one pays for fulfilment, The free never seeks fulfilment. 

True freedom is never wanting anything; not fulfilment, not even to love, or be loved.

-Pulastye

Living and Surviving

Answer is always there, like a knife in the hand, the challenge is to stab your self in the heart with it. Facing the pain that comes with it. 

Come to think of it, everything that destroys us is made sweet and everything that builds bitter. All nature (or call it god!) knows is to create a challenge for survival, so that only stronger survives, and what could be more effective way of doing it than designing what “we like” and “what is right for us” in completely opposing way! The true wisdom is to understand this anomaly. 

But even that understanding leads to choosing between two difficult choices: live much but suffer pain (does a drunk live, yes.), or avoid pain and not live much (does on live by renouncing the world, I doubt.) 

Living and surviving are very different things.  Living is a process of self destruction in a happy state, and survival of self preservation and duress. So, in a way, one who faces the answers is not better off than one who avoids them.

-Pulastye

Human Struggle

 The struggle is the sign of the unique existence we have. If struggle goes away everything goes with it. We are rare in the known universe  because we can struggle, to whatever little extent but we have control on our fate, unlike innumerable other things in the universe who have fully surrendered to their fate and float dead in the eternal darkness, to god knows whose will.

The problem is of having highly sophisticated tool to struggle. In our case our brain. It must be kept busy. Once basics are taken care of you can't switch it off and put it aside, it demands engagement, and starts projecting frivolities as importants and leads people like us in to them. More automated your tools are more the danger that they will take you over. Our brain runs on the fuel of dissatisfaction, made from the mix to envy, greed, and all the others of the seven sins. Hunger uses them to hunt but also keeps them on leash; but once hunger goes to rest they run amok, forgetting that they are means, not the end.

Other livings, like animals, do not have this problem. Their brains also rest when their hunger rests. 

-Pulastye

Eyes

 Eyes are windows to the soul. Eyes are where the bodily existence meets the consciousness, the  soul; outside world meets the inside world. Eyes are the children born when what is divine in you takes the physical into its embrace and they merge into each other. Your eyes, the daughters of your body and soul. Two babies. Playful, kind, always smiling, always delighting; perfect children of beautiful parents. These lovelies dance in the cradle of your face enchanting the mesmerised world, as proud parents, the body and the soul, watch and glow.

-Pulastye

Shadow

 Sifted sunshine.

Nothing to touch, nothing to put a stain on,

And yet a complete existence.

Existence defined by void.

Like soul.......

Alive, but free from burdens of living,

Dark and pure, and overriding, 

Like sin.......

-Pulastye

Woman Desire

 It is always a surrender, a consent with reluctance. Always let a part of you go limp, always withdraw a little bit, just enough to let him feel it.That’s our way; to burn like moist wood- on fire but never ablaze, always shrouded in smoke, always glowing dim, always at some distance. Never fully expose core of your desire to him, and never ever surmount his. “It’s our jewel”, they say. I agree. A woman who erupts like volcano and blows her man to smithereens with every bit of his being left melting in the after heat, is a whore, a woman out of control. Be domestic. And the first sign of domesticity is taming of desire. So, never fail to make a show of it, good girl! That’s how you walk the tight rope of having desires and being desired, in this place. 

-Pulastye

Syllabus of Life

 *Syllabus is same for all*. Be born, pursue happiness, deal with suffering; first chase achievements later chase nostalgia; when young, conquer, when old, preserve; the joy of meeting people, making friends, falling in love, carve relationships and see your self expanding, and then when people start  leavening  one after the other  (children  go, friends and partner die.. ) see yourself shrivel and shrinking,  and then, finally, be dissolve into a nothingness called death, and, surprisingly, feel thankful to it for having released you from the misery of life. This journey from “whole world is my oyster” to “when will the death come with deliverance” , it is the same for those  who live long enough. *School and books are different though*...Some do it with panache, some with simplicity; some with recklessness, some with caution; some get drowned in love and some thrive on hate; some live in others, some live for others; some sing aloud, some hold hand of silence and just listen to it; some seek shoulder to cry, some keep a bold front....our methods are different, but our tasks in life are the same... always...

-Pulastye

Intimacy

 This was a higher form of intimacy, not like the intimacy experienced by lovers who when undress in front of each other are aware of each other’s  nakedness, it was hidden so deep in the consciousness that it was beyond the bounds of awareness. At this level intimacy is not stimulating, it is soothing; and not identifiable even by absence of partner (Don't lovers miss each other?), except for that subtle sense of something always pleasantly nagging you like an imaginary musk. 

-Pulastye

Love

 Love, when we are trying to describe it, always takes form of an ideal. An ideal is a thought mechanism invented to regulate  the direction of human emotions, and is essential part of human conditioning, imposed through myth, legends and stories. Like the ideal of bravery directs violence, by specifying the time, place and a list of valid reason to resort to it to make it more useful to society, the ideal of love regulates the human passion. Ideal of love has evolved in such a way that it always sets standards of behaviour under the influence of passion much higher than what is possible for human beings to achieve. Which is clever, for nothing holds passion’s attention better than the impossibility of task.  And, also, for the obvious reasons of preventing the force of passion from turning against the society, the ideal of love always emphasises on self-sacrifice rather than pursuit by any means. No wonder unrequited love is exalted as the highest form of love. Therefore, the ideal love, in its purest form, is unattainable.

-Pulastye

Lofty Aim of Art

Well, I would interpret it as expression of frustration resulting from artist's acknowledgement of eternal failure of getting the same beauty on canvas which is there in his mind, without defiling it in some way. Mesmerised by the image of beauty in their heads artists often forget that the image in the head is so beautiful because it is fluid. Every aspect of it, as you focus on that aspect modifies itself to its best possible version in a flash without you noticing it because it is in your mind. The sum of parts is exactly equal to the whole, and is always maximum. But once you put it on canvas each part becomes fixed and unchangeable. It is now open to scrutiny. Then, invariably, comes the problem of sum of parts being unequal to the whole. This frustrates the artists to no end. Though, this is also what keeps them going forever in refining their art, for they blame themselves, their limited artistic ability for it; and that is good for growth of art and artists. However, once someone realises that largest part of thing of beauty is made up of allure which goes poof as soon as one touches the beauty, he turns in to a sage or philosopher; acknowledging the futility of the endeavour, the unattainabilty of lofty aim of art.

-Pulastye 

Beauty of a Woman

Let me see, how can I bring out the difference... appreciating a building for its architecture can never be same as a man admiring a woman for her beauty.....one is learnt appreciation, other is something built-in into his very being, in fact, is the very basis of his being... for man that is what woman is, his reason to exist...and beautiful woman, is his belief in god..and being with a beautiful woman, makes him feel like god....

- Pulastye 

Channel Over Message

Channel, over sufficiently long period, always grows bigger than message, because receivers have limited capacity to distinguish between the two, they recognise the value of message only from its form (written in Vedas, must be wise, from IIT, must be intelligent, has money, must be successful)and form is controlled by channel....prophets have always controlled (and manipulated) in the name of god because common folks have no ability to recognise god...(if you look at it, structured religions are books ruling the world..)

-Pulastya  

Baby playing in the rain

When the elements that make an organism meet their own....

Memories of first child ever born on the face of this earth, whose mother was nature,  possessing momentarily, rising from the depths of mysterious genes, this little baby who plays with wind and rain, unafraid-“It’s my mother’s lap extending into oceans, rivers, droplets and breeze.

You o dear lady! who looks at me with her heart in her eyes and milk in her breasts is only her shadow who cuddles me when Mother Nature is busy with her other children...

...Today she herself  is here to feed my soul....”

-Pulastye 

A Poet

Who sees a flower bloom and weeps is a poet...

(How fleeting is glory and how near is the end...)

Who sees an infant die and laughs is a poet...

(All see end, not a new beginning..)

Who hears a stone moan and kisses it is a poet...

(What beats in others is your own heart...)

Who cuddles a thundering ocean like a lover is a poet...   

(Heart doesn’t suffer from fears of eyes...)

-Pulastya 

To The Lips

 Birth place of rose petals… 

Or nursery of passion’s infant dreams.... 

Done in silk, dyed in the blush of a bashful heart, as it seems...

May God ever bless the touch with most sweet pain... 

That throbs under the rose coloured stain ....

-Pulastya

Forgetting

So True... but, sadly, they never completely fade away, it is that other pictures are painted over them; they still lie underneath, suppressed, and yet, still ever so slightly gnawing on your soul in your loneliest moments, making it bleed...love is such a poison that even if you survive it, it always leaves ugly scars behind, which start burning as soon as you are alone. Seeing someone you loved once fade away, is letting a part of your soul go away for ever....

Trying to forget is the worst form of remembering...

-Pulastya 

छुअन का प्यासा तन

इस क़दर सूखा 

की जल उठा ब्यार के छूने से,

और बारिश तो जैसे शोलों की बौछार है......

-पुलस्त्य 

Beauty Blesses By Being

 It’s been such long time that your face will seem fresher than ever. And, of course, I noticed the glow in the photograph, it prompted me to ping you, its curvaceous mistress. The glow is the ooze of bustling feminine, ripening in tenderness and caresses of staying indoors. Enchantress is intensifying her charm to defy imposed loneliness and attract admirers from the farthest places and from across the hardest obstacles. Keep the window open, for some devotee might jump in, to bow to the beauty and to offer devotion to source of life...

May god bless the glow. And, thanks god for those curves, may they remain firm for ever. Sadly, however, wind and sunshine are no cure for loneliness of a beauty, they only aggravate. Beauty blossoms when surrounded by eyes filled with devotion and bleeding hearts of admirers.

But, these being desperate times, call for desperate measures. So, derive solace from knowing that there are admirers out there whose hearts are beating to the rhythm of echo of your laughter they had once heard, glowing in the reflection of memory of your tender eyes, and in their dreams wander the earth that falls and rises taking after those curves of your body. Every beauty is a world to its admirer, a vast universe secretly humming in his heart...And that way, beauty blesses just by being. 

-Pulastya

Perception And Reality

 A car is a riding machine for us, a complicated power transmission chain for an engineer! Which one is its reality? Reality is nothing without perception. A statute Krishna in temple, mere stone or God! Depends on how you perceive it!

So, there are perceptions and there are things unknown, if there is any thing in between it is only a stop gap perception of things based on effervescence of our bubbling desires and tremors of our hidden fears exciting our imagination, like old lady in the moon, and ghosts in the dark rooms of the house, till one reaches to a better one.

Because knowing is perceiving only, when we do it scientifically we are only fixing method of perceiving (if you do this such and such will happen...!) to ensure the repeatability of outcome. 

All knowledge is paradigmic, and slight change in paradigm changes perception of reality. 

Reality that can be observed by senses is limited, large part of reality is deductive or logic based. For example what is sun? An orb shining in the sky which gives us light and warmth. That is what we know directly by using eyes, and our skin. Ok, but is that all of it? It is also a mass of highly condensed gasses burning at a very high temperature! But can we feel that through our senses! No, that is deductive, meaning scientists have deduced that indirectly based on scientific paradigms of what is a gas, what is light, what is spectrum of light etc..these paradigms are only current state of understanding of things and keep changing with newer facts ....Simpler example- when your husband looks upset that is something that you can perceive directly, but is that the reality? Let’s find out first why he is upset? Perhaps because he is hungry. So, now what is the reality, that he is upset, or that he is hungry? For less smart the first one (that he is upset) for smarter the second one (that he is hungry). Why smart, less or more, because the second understanding can be used to deal with the problem. It’s a solution, just give him to eat and he will be better, indicating better understanding. 

All that you call “reality” is perceiving in progress, one can never be sure that ultimate point has been reached and final perception can be freezed as reality.   At best it means that only currently the limit of understanding has been reached. Once Newton’s perception was reality, now Einstein’s is. Who knows what next? Perhaps we will eventually deduce (only deduction will be possible...by this very argument!) that truth (reality) is a function of time. That, to understand reality is an endless endeavour. The thing is further complicated, as Quantum mechanics has already cast as much doubt on the nature of observed reality itself- perceiving, method of observation, itself changes the outcome. 

-Pulastya 

Solitude

Solitude works best when all reference points of happiness, achievement, sense of security are internal to you, measured from a reference point which does not need comparison with others. That’s possible only when you have either beaten all external benchmarks (too good than the rest) or abandoned comparing (renounced the ways of world). If external benchmarks are still relevant to you then isolation is not solitude, it is loneliness. Need to connect to others for emotional reasons is the key difference between solitude and loneliness. Solitude is for satiated, loneliness is hunger. Enjoying solitude is enjoying freedom from emotional dependence.  Ironically, solitude and loneliness are possible even without isolation, depending on how deeply one understand the world around and looks outward for emotional gratification; more one understands, more one gets detached, leading to attainment of state of solitude. In such situation presence of other humans and their chatter is a mere nuisance, which when, sometimes, becomes unbearable people do move to seclusion to cut it. 

-Pulastya 

Holi

Holi, one day of going back to primal. A day of freedom from our clearly etched identities of civilised form and nature, when we let loose our common basic core as a human animal. All the components of the format of celebration-gathering of people for a purpose, colour, intoxicants, dancing on high energy music- blur our social human identities and restores us back to our animal ones. It is a restrained orgy, sublimely sexual. Which is such a relief.  To be like  just a fragment of a mass with no individual identity, and yet be able to feel and live individually. On the day, men and women are unrecognisable from normal days. In a belief that they are hidden behind the colour on their faces and the intoxicant in the eyes of others, they begin to lose the inhibition dictated by behaviour appropriate for their social position. Men become openly eager, women showy. Air is filled with under the surface simmering sexuality. Touching of faces, meeting of eyes, smiles from those who never would smile to you on any other day out of inhibition, that chasing, catching, breaching of personal space, all augmented by alcohol in the blood and music in the air is  a form of freedom that primitive human animal, buried in us on a normal day, craves and yet can’t not get. A prison of his (man’s)own rules opens the doors of its cells for one day, with in the walls of the barbed wire perimeter, for nothing can be done whose effect will be carried to tomorrow and will not fit with our social identities. So dancing becomes large part of venting of sexual energy building up in the air. Women and men go crazy. I have seen women dance like there is going to be no tomorrow. Kind of energy that is exhibited on the day gives full credence to the words of JBS that dancing is vertical expression of a horizontal desire. 

Come to think of it, there is nothing in the nature more perfectly designed than a woman to express desire, that’s the most beautiful sight of nature, the rare unification of what could be and what is. And all we do is privatise it, suppress it. Humans are so terrified of beauty that when we see it our instinct is to capture it, enslave it, destroy it. Like pigs shitting on bed of roses-with no sense of smell, tenderness or softness, just startled by bright red colour giving in to their first instinct of fear and defecating as a result. Only few can resist that first wave of exposure to beauty, surviving the terror it may impose, by over loading the senses with stimuli. This kind of overloading normally happens to man when he is in grave danger,  hence the feeling of terror on seeing the beauty. When the danger overloads the senses, instincts are trained for fight or flight, giving a quick relieving to overloaded senses. In case of beauty same or more amount of over loading of senses takes place and yet instinct do not know what to do. Training of fight or flight does not help. There is an unusually prolonged hyper over loading of senses with stimuli which are new, a newness that fails the fight or flight mechanism. Man staying filled with a sensation which is larger than danger and with a failed fight or flight mechanism, that’s the mother of all terrors, remember the nightmare where you are chased by a beast and can’t move despite trying very hard to run. In most cases the only recovery that happens is delayed firing of fight or flight mechanism in a distorted way, leading to man trying to capture, enslave or destroy the beauty. Those who stay still longer become poets, sages or God, for they have learnt to live with beauty.

-Pulastya 

Definition of a woman

I know woman. 

Her definition is hardwired in my body cells-

Like quarry knows it’s natural predator. 

She, in reality exists only as a  tamed counterfeit 

of the woman that flows in my blood.

I, all my life, have been a seeker 

of this perfect predator in the real world. 

I dream of, 

Her jaws closing on my necks, 

In that moment of orgasmic ecstasy, 

When death reveals to life it’s full worth, 

Our eyes meet one last time, 

And, I thank my killer for choosing me...

-Pulastya