Monday, November 26, 2007


"The door to your right leads to the source and the salvation of Xion and the door to your left leads from matrix to her and to the end of your species. And as you have already put, the problem is choice."
- The Creator says to Neo in Matrix

Going back to the streets from where I started the journey i.e. going back to the concepts of illusion (my first blog) which got revived last night when I finally watched Matrix after years of resisting myself, considering it to be nothing more than a sick, graphically manipulated action flick. But to my wonder I found it to be a 21st century translation of our very own bhagwadgita, Gita which answers the very question of existence of human life on the earth and the purpose for which a man gets trapped in this web of life and death and the only way out to achieve eternity. Applying the model of matrix in our own context this whole world which we deem to be real is nothing but a beautiful illusion crafted by the perpetrator, whom we call God. The very reason of our existence is a purpose, a very unique one. Once that purpose is achieved, the doer is exterminated (in the language of matrix; gets deleted). The only real problem, keeping the rest of all aside for a moment (irrelevant in the real sense), is the problem of choice, the choice between real and unreal, the choice between desire and freedom, illusion and fact, benign and sinister, and the choice between existence and salvation. But the man smart enough to deal with the problems, already decided which way to go to, eliminates this whole problem of choice. As the Oracle explains in matrix to Neo when she offers her a candy, he asks her in return that how did she know he was going to take it? I view ‘Oracle’ as a composite of all religions, sects, scriptures, hymns and manuscripts which are there with us the entire life, guiding us always which road to take but we hardly pester us to follow them. So the question of choice doesn’t arise in practical terms. The choice has already been made. Everything is planned and already decided. Belts have been tightened and I am ready for a flight, flight to the world of my dreams, my oceans and mountains, my aspirations and realities. I am educated… I am the master... I am the ultimate. I have found the secret code. This is the only purpose of my very existence. Destruction. To born, age and consequently die without actually realizing what are life and death in actual expressions. And here lies the key to the door opening into the world of myriads lost in the fixture of life and death, i.e. the door to the left leading from matrix to her and to the end my species.

But why is it so difficult to choose the right door and why isn’t it the choice we always make? Is it really so hard to comprehend the real world which is in fact a world of illusions? What I understand is that it’s like a mirage. You try to grab it; it disappears and reappears far away, taking you further away from the door to the right, i.e. the door that leads to the source and salvation. Really, a brilliantly designed program by a mastermind who must be laughing at the moment when I am trying to crack his own puzzle.

Sunday, November 4, 2007


i was strolling on the road
when i saw it coming
i could escape the collision
but i let it go
it shattered me to pieces
but i saved the very thing
they call me insane...



A painter scribbles four lines on paper in a random fashion and calls it the masterpiece of his life. He had never been so justified in his presentation. He always wanted to draw something like that but just now he got the real combination and accomplishment. For the first time in his life he had been so true to those four lines. For the first time he had been different. For the first time he had broken a wall. Just then four boys walk into the room and have a look at his masterpiece. They burst into laughter and call it the joke of the century and absolutely rubbish. They call him insane. They scratch the painting and tear it into pieces. The painter contented as has never been, just looking at them and doing nothing, standing there with a smile on his face collects the torn pieces from the floor and put them in his pocket. He picks up his brushes, colors and throws them in his bag and walks out of the room with the same smile on his face and retreat to sleep. He never woke up after that. But that night he dreamed of something profound. A ray of light coming from behind the mountains, dazzling into his eyes and asking him to follow its path. The path which has no road, no turns and very few accompanying travelers who look contented with the same mysterious smile on their faces. They join their hands and wave them into the air for someone standing far away at the horizon waiting for them for centuries. Just then the dream vanishes into eternity and the breath leaves the matter…

Who’s sane? Who’s insane? Who wins in this struggle for sanity? These are some of the questions which need to be answered… till then remain insane…