Monday, 24 March 2025

Heaven Pieces

It's an afternoon in the summer vacation during the 90s. It is sweltering heat outside. There, in your grandfather's room, it's nap time after lunch. Windows are closed, it's a kind of dark and the desert cooler is running in all its glory. You can smell the freshness of tiny water droplets the desert cooler is throwing in the room and your nostrils are filled with smell of khaskhas. There is a tiny amount of light that enters through colored glasses of the windows and you are laying on the bed with a comic book in your hands. That, is a description of what heaven is for me. If you are lucky such tiny heavens are scattered throughout our your life, and when you grow up and realise the actual hell the world is, you collect these heavens from your life and you build and integrate them in your present life. The truth of the slavery is absolute, and all that remains for a common person is survival and pain especially in today's times. But what he or she can do is gather little heavens from his or her life and make them alive again. I remember reading comic books while eating food. I remember laying on the terrace on the folding bed, while the cool night breeze blew under the moon, with my head on the lap of my family servant, Babu as I called him and he used to tell me stories, mostly folktales. When he died, his son didn't have the money to perform last rites and he did jal pravah, I got the news late, and couldn't reach in time to ensure his last rites. A part of my heaven got eaten by river fish. It's unfortunate, I know, but unfortunate is something that happens due to luck, it's cruelty. They are, and I don't need or want to say who they are, burning personal heavens of people, and all that would remain in the end would be a bunch of androids and beasts fighting and killing each other for survival, with no concept of what real happiness or real love is. This entity which sits at the place of God mocks my love for Babu, while at the same time being responsible for fish eating his body. He used to smoke beedis and used to have khaini dabba, and wore dhoti kurta when he used to go to the bank. But these assholes who ridicule people for talking about nicotine patches won't get that. All the heavens will get burned and in the end will remain their fake heavens where they would get high on synthetic impulses and compounds knowing nothing about what actual love is. I will preserve and guard my heavens for as long as I'm alive, that is what I can do and that is what I will do. 

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