My train is two and a half hours late, I just found out, on the train. Ten minutes from Vijayawada, the eye cannot escape the destruction of beauty and grandeur. What formed over a million years breaks away in one millionth of a second. The expression ‘Rock Solid’ has suddenly lost the solidity.
Rock formations, a thousand feet high are suddenly withering away, they are being dynamited. The scars on its proud face are still fresh and bleeding. Tiny specks on wheels, yellow and red, throng its base - moving away with the spoils of the dead. What was once an almost living organism stand frozen, unable to see little men do to it what millions of years of nature could not.
We move ahead and watch the poppy fields, as far as eyes will go. People diligently work among the fields, the sun heating their arse’s pointed skywards. They go about reaping the fully grown white fluffy balls with manic precision. Its scary.
I saw Destruction and Euphoria, in the space of 30 minutes. The point is driven home, without destruction, there cannot be euphoria. The price of Euphoria is almost always destruction. Drugs, fagging and boozing, all come to my mind. Euphoria-destruction, an equation almost as old as time.
It is as if a heavy tempest inside me just left me drained, or it may be the sudden change in clime, I retreat back to my mood of contemplation, euphoria…destruction…
Rock formations, a thousand feet high are suddenly withering away, they are being dynamited. The scars on its proud face are still fresh and bleeding. Tiny specks on wheels, yellow and red, throng its base - moving away with the spoils of the dead. What was once an almost living organism stand frozen, unable to see little men do to it what millions of years of nature could not.
We move ahead and watch the poppy fields, as far as eyes will go. People diligently work among the fields, the sun heating their arse’s pointed skywards. They go about reaping the fully grown white fluffy balls with manic precision. Its scary.
I saw Destruction and Euphoria, in the space of 30 minutes. The point is driven home, without destruction, there cannot be euphoria. The price of Euphoria is almost always destruction. Drugs, fagging and boozing, all come to my mind. Euphoria-destruction, an equation almost as old as time.
It is as if a heavy tempest inside me just left me drained, or it may be the sudden change in clime, I retreat back to my mood of contemplation, euphoria…destruction…
1 comment:
blogging is for the brave hearted.Look around the carcasses of dead blogs lie all around you.
Blog on into the dark night.
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