Seduced by a question

Every now and then, while smoking a cigarette, I like to ask myself ” Does  the cigarette smoke ever reach the sky ? “. ” ask” because that’s where it has stayed. I never moved to the answer stage. More precisely, I didn’t even try. Almost from the moment I first met this question on a ” I am a poet ” trip , I was overwhelmed by the fact that I  actually asked this question. Sure, there had been references to smoking in many of my earlier “poems” but this was no ordinary “smoking” , it was a bloody metaphor. Being as instinctively ethical as I am, I had immediately Googled to confirm if it was a new find. And you know what ? No one before me had  thought ” Does the Cigarette smoke reach the sky? “. Can you imagine it ? I mean, when you “have” and others “have not” ?  I spent the next few hours reflecting on my unique glory as I experienced a huge outpouring of self love in that state of self hypnosis .That joy, that ineffable bliss. And because of what? So you can see what that question means to me. This is why I could never move beyond it. When a question is so giving, so fulfilling, you Stop caring about the answer.

PS- Technically speaking, everything above earth’s surface is ” sky” and so Cigratte smoke doesn’t really need to reach the  ” sky”.


2008, December 8th

I had quarreled with my colleagues after getting drunk at a restaurant.I walked to the rocks near the sea.I found this girl and boy,both Caucasians,mid twenties.They asked me to sing.As I started singing ,they started kissing passionately.Soon,I was just a background to their romance. I walked on .After a few minutes,I met a completely sloshed french girl who wanted my Beatles’ T-shirt. ” How much you want?” she screamed. I said “talk to me for one hour”. She agreed but soon her friends came.They were relieved she hadn’t drowned in the sea.They took her away.I walked on. Next, I met some Russians playing guitar.I started singing . They tolerated for a while and then went away,without saying goodnight.I walked towards the sea and saw a white man with silver hair, meditating. “Open your eyes!”I shouted.No response.I said he would never get Nirvana and laughed. “Please go away”, he said meekly.I felt guilty and walked on.I sat down on the sand.The night was getting colder when I saw a bald man in black robes walking across me. “Hey! Are you the pope? ” I shouted.He walked to me and said ” I am Italian but not the Pope.”We laughed and started talking.


It was seventh class and we were in the middle of our monthly tests. I had done decently in the last two tests but being just three months old in the school, I was eager to establish my “intelligence”.This meant I had to score high and score higher than OTHERS.

And so, during the Maths test when Aman, sitting next to me , asked the answer to a question, I flatly refused. I mean he was competition,topper in sixth class and second in last test. You don’t give up your advantage with  guys like that ! I feared there’d be some angry retaliation from him later on but nothing of that sort happened.

Two days later in the English test,I needed the answer to a question.With no one else close, I turned to Aman and guess what,  he told me the answer !I went to Aman after the test. “Why did you help me? “, I asked.He casually answered” No competition with friends”.This hit me very hard.Somehow, I instantly accepted and internalized that idea.A complete transformation.Never again I’d be the old competitive me. A new mantra and a new hero had arrived. My world had changed. In an instant.

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