Home is where you are.
In streets. People stare at you because you got yourself tonsured. You stare at them because you find them interesting. You move your body. You spend money. You use your brain. You catch a bus. You see them spit on the road and kick street dogs. You get agitated. In daylight you feel safe. Guarded by the men in armour plated suites and ties. At night you feel lost. So you illuminate the earth. And then, like a blind man, you collide with the next person you see.
In war-fields. You hide from the bullets whizzing all around you while your loved ones wait for your return. You are too scared to use your gun. So you use your conscience. While the president sits in his home sipping wine, you collide with a bullet.
On a train. The landscape outside changes while the future becomes past. Your co-passenger changes as the train moves from station to station. The summer breeze bathes your face. And different voices, different languages surround you. And then you hear your train scream. The trains collide.
In space. You turn your telescope towards the sky to look back at time. And maybe somebody two million light years away is looking at an earth inhabited by the Neanderthals. Two million light years later when you are turned into dust and maybe the earth is also gone with you, they will stare in awe through their telescope at the third planet from the sun. Beaming with life and colliding against each other.
In a discotheque. The guitar sound fades in while the masses flow in. Voice booms out while the light flickers with the drum beat. Electronic sound fills up the room. You have left your telescope back at the work-place along with your brain. And then you reach out to grab it, control it, direct it and connect it. But you cannot. You get confused. You get yourself a drink. Then you move your body on the floor. So does everybody. The light goes off. Masses collide.
At some distance the empty space lights up. And then came the delicate sound of thunder. And we are all one again. Tightly packed in a nucleus. Heavier than you and me and everybody and anybody.
This is home.
We will all explode again. To separate. Fight. Mark territory. And build walls.
In streets. People stare at you because you got yourself tonsured. You stare at them because you find them interesting. You move your body. You spend money. You use your brain. You catch a bus. You see them spit on the road and kick street dogs. You get agitated. In daylight you feel safe. Guarded by the men in armour plated suites and ties. At night you feel lost. So you illuminate the earth. And then, like a blind man, you collide with the next person you see.
In war-fields. You hide from the bullets whizzing all around you while your loved ones wait for your return. You are too scared to use your gun. So you use your conscience. While the president sits in his home sipping wine, you collide with a bullet.
On a train. The landscape outside changes while the future becomes past. Your co-passenger changes as the train moves from station to station. The summer breeze bathes your face. And different voices, different languages surround you. And then you hear your train scream. The trains collide.
In space. You turn your telescope towards the sky to look back at time. And maybe somebody two million light years away is looking at an earth inhabited by the Neanderthals. Two million light years later when you are turned into dust and maybe the earth is also gone with you, they will stare in awe through their telescope at the third planet from the sun. Beaming with life and colliding against each other.
In a discotheque. The guitar sound fades in while the masses flow in. Voice booms out while the light flickers with the drum beat. Electronic sound fills up the room. You have left your telescope back at the work-place along with your brain. And then you reach out to grab it, control it, direct it and connect it. But you cannot. You get confused. You get yourself a drink. Then you move your body on the floor. So does everybody. The light goes off. Masses collide.
At some distance the empty space lights up. And then came the delicate sound of thunder. And we are all one again. Tightly packed in a nucleus. Heavier than you and me and everybody and anybody.
This is home.
We will all explode again. To separate. Fight. Mark territory. And build walls.
posted by Arjun at 11:57 PM
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