Thursday, 24 January 2013

How I wish!

How I wish, just like Gregor, the central character of Kafka's metamorphoses, to start afresh,  to consider that world is still the  same, to imagine that I  am still the same . How I wish, I could get rid of my madness, of my yearning and thirst, and still imagine myself   a child who can  look up to his elders to make amends. How I wish, I could be the same individual, as I see around me, and then most of all , become a man of action. How I wish, I was not troubled by  pangs of loneliness, and be freed of the curse of freedom . How I wish, I could be that which normal people around me already are, be that which has been so firmly established; be that which has been so well institutionalized . 
How I wish, I could be a writer , whose books would embellish the shelves of intellectuals and laymen alike. How I wish, I could own a house, with sofa , and a balcony with an untrammeled view from there . How I wish, I could then sit atop a reclining chair; looking obliquely at my library behind , muse upon the world running by, and then shape a theory , an idea, that would move me and my readers from the deepest recesses of heart. 
How I wish, I could harbor a wife, to embellish my staid disposition, and sink into the deepest mysteries of bodies, through her submission . How I wish , I could fornicate in grandest and weirdest of ways, and then bear a child , and relish its innocuous ways. How I wish, this child of mine , to be a greater being than what I could ever be. How I wish , it then opens up the world and decorates my name beyond his own self.
How I wish, I could see my hairs graying  as my children  grow old in front of my eyes. How I wish, I could celebrate their successes , and relish their joys as time grows further by. How I wish, I could then renounce my life , and part with all that I would have gathered . How I wish, then , one fine uneventful summer day , I would find myself sitting in a rocking chair on the balcony of my hard earned house ; look at the books I have read and written in my library through the corner of my eyes , take the final sip of piping hot tea , and draw the final breath. 
How I wish, I could belong to all the follies of trite, conservative life I just now wished for, the established perfection to my parents and other conservative eyes.
And then , I know , this devil within me, has no wish to be anything , but only to sink in deeper and deeper and be more and more of myself alone.

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