Evening shades on the solitary trail..
The posts on this blog deal with common people who try to stand proud in front of their own conscience. The rest of the life's tale naturally follows from this point. It's intended to be a joy-maker, helping the reader to see the beauty underlying everyone and everything. Copyright © Sandeep Dahiya. All Rights Reserved for all posts on this blog. No part of this blog may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the author of this blog.
About Me

- Sufi
- Hi, this is somebody who has taken the quieter by-lane to be happy. The hustle and bustle of the big, booming main street was too intimidating. Passing through the quieter by-lane I intend to reach a solitary path, laid out just for me, to reach my destiny, to be happy primarily, and enjoy the fruits of being happy. (www.sandeepdahiya.com)
Tuesday, February 11, 2025
Saturday, February 8, 2025
The will to exist
Energy’s manifestation as matter is
bound by the laws defining our survival instincts. And survival has the tools
of attack and defense as the primary modus operandi. So ‘being’ is like walking
on the tightrope, holding the pole with one end as ‘attack’ and the other as ‘defense’,
sometimes tilting to this way to defend, the other times to the opposite end to
attack.
Each eatable grain on the earth wants
to survive. It has the multiple layers of defense and attack mechanisms to help
it carry its journey forward. And we break through their defense portals by
cooking them and make a pulp of their starch and protein by breaking these
down. The grain accumulates lots of starch to lengthen its life, but we are
smarter enough to break it down for our consumption. Primarily, a grain collects
its starch for its own consumption. Getting eaten by the humans or animals is
the least of its priorities. So to reach this rich source of starch and protein,
we have to first defeat its first line of defense, the structural line of resistance.
Grains have physical obstructions in the form of thorns, bark, husk and other
protective armor. We go through it with our superior weapons by peeling and
milling.
At the second tier of defense, the
grain still tries to survive and here it engages the gluttony humans with its
chemical warfare. The grains have certain pathogenic properties that don’t go
along the digestive capabilities of the human stomachs. They also possess
certain enzyme inhibitors that make the grains harder to be broken by the
digestive system. It makes them very tough to be eaten raw. To break this line
of defense we use the weapons of boiling, fermenting and germination. We even
dupe them by soaking. Soaking actually dupes the grain into believing that it’s
the first stage for the birth of a baby plant. As it gets ready for giving
birth to a baby sprout, it withdraws the defense portals and immediately
certain enzymes are born to support the baby sprout. And something eatable for
the baby plant is eatable for us also.
So it’s primarily about attack and
defense at all the hierarchies of life. What we see in the world at the
tangible level of we humans is simply a representative of all that is going at
the tiniest levels. So keep your defense walls strong and the attack portals (skills
and efficiency) well oiled. The bubble will anyway burst but to maintain that
bubble and enjoy the pleasure and joy of being, we have to give our best just
like a tiny grain does. Learn from a grain. If not for
this tough fight, how will a tiny seed grow into a majestic tree some day? A
tree is the optimum actualization of a seed’s potential. Similarly, we too have
the task of maximizing the potential that we carry within. Fight
well!
The countryside PDL and PDA
The lethal most Public Display of Lust
(PDL) I have witnessed goes like this. It was a bull in full heat of the
moment—in hormonal terms. Sadly there was no cow in sight. The red-hot excited
bull must have had a great sense of visualization. If not for this how would
you digest the sight of a bull riding a scooty. The bull visualized the scooty as a cow. There are always
alternatives. Aren’t there? The scooty was parked by the roadside. A nice white
scooty, smaller than a cow. So the bull raised its front legs and landed on it
for lovemaking, mating, raping, call it whatever. It shocked and jolted the
human senses for a moment but then everyone laughed, hollered, guffawed.
The craziest, all-defiant love pursuit
I have seen goes like this. It was a massive male buffalo. A free-roamer
allowed to graze in the fields in return for mating with domesticated buffaloes
to sire colts and getting fresh milk in the family. It would go lumbering
across the village streets after grazing in the fields and was cordially
welcomed to fulfill the needs of the buffaloes at the time of seeding. The
buffalo bull should have treated all the females in the village equally, with identical
affection. But then it fell in love with a young filly. It was a very
attractive young buffalo. He just went crazy for her. He knew that she would
come of age soon and then he would get an opportunity to be the father of her
colt. He lost interest in the rest of the buffaloes. She would be there in the
shade of the barn and he would wait in the street, sitting in the burning June
heat, waiting for the evening to come when they took her out for watering at
the village pond. Then he would accompany her to the pond, walking fondly with
her, gentling shoving her, licking her skin. He won’t go into the fields to
graze and thus was losing weight. Spellbound by her, he wasn’t interested in
mating with other buffaloes. The people started calling him Majnu. The owner of
the young buffalo took it as an attempt to tarnish his reputation. The people
started joking that it was an attempt to malign the family’s honor. The irate farmer then
would beat Majnu with well-oiled sticks. But he would bear all this just to be
with his love interest.
The grandest fight one wages to prove
one’s libido even in the old age was presented by another romoeo, a one-eyed
community buffalo bull. We called him Kana, for he had lost one eye in a fight
with a rival. He was a massive bull. In his heydays he sired hundreds of colts
in the village and was thus the cause of bringing fresh milk to scores of rural
houses. But then age caught with him. He but would try to keep his fiefdom
still intact. I remember it once when he fell down in an attempt to get onto a
young buffalo. The onlookers laughed and made derogatory puns at his vanishing stamina
and strength. Maybe the old buffalo took it to heart. And to prove a point that
his power was just the same, he carried the momentum right there on the ground.
We saw him convulsing with lust on the ground. The poor old bull was trying to
drill a hole in the earth to prove a point. It was pretty hilarious that day.
When we try to be what we are no longer, we simply turn a joke. Don’t we?
And just today I saw the bravest
Public Display of Affection (PDA):a cow and a bull standing right there in the
middle of the busy road at the entrance to the town; in full foreplay mood,
licking each other with the very same pleasure treasure that each species seems
to run after on the earth. We respect cows and the vehicles would divert to the
sides to allow them this holy PDA. And here I am going on my scooty marveling
at their holy audacity. The only point of mismanagement was that he chose the
wrong moment to try to materialize the peak of affection. He went for the heave
just when I was crossing over. I was at a safe distance but still the shuffling
and movement brought them precariously close. It was a momentary scare. He
would have risen in love to the crest of ecstasy and I would have fallen as a fruit
of their love. I’m glad not to have become the casualty of a PDA.