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I punctured her excitement. This brought her on the street, back home. The old ‘selves’….’old, old’ is how she had depicted these selves of her, went out of control, wanted to carry her far off, any place, known, unknown…away, away from ‘home’ which locates in the domain of ‘here’ where there is no excitement.

Home is a disciplined place. Home demands an order, cleanliness, sense of belonging and no chaos caused by excitement. This demands a peaceful presence.

Presence needs constant mastering. ‘Home’ loses meaning in the absence of a master. The world out ‘there’ has no masters. Every one affects everyone, explicitly or in-explicitly. It’s a dream world without any address. Once you forget to keep your eyes on the path which lead you any place out from the domain of ‘here’, it’s hard to find way back home.

The other day I found an old man sitting under a street lamppost asking every way farers if anyone knew the address of his house. Incidentally, every one of them he enquired was in search of address of their houses which they were reluctant to concede. Years of failure to find his home had almost paralyzed him. Actually, he felt tired wandering through the same by lanes, evaluating the possibility of any of them leading him to his house. Incidentally, they had none. He was lost forever.

Lost by Reinhard Kuchenbecher

Lost by Reinhard Kuchenbecher

Her home is ‘here’, she knew this fact without an iota of doubt. Any place ‘away’ from ‘here’ simply is not here, she knew this fact too.

What she had meant by ‘old, old’ is that she had forgotten to visit these places long ago ever since she had ‘grown up’, and that, these places were far off from her ‘home’. This doesn’t mean that she had not been traversing in the domain of ‘there’ but she at least kept an eye on the paths she had taken to visit these places, so that she can return home safely. But those ‘old…old’ selves we think we have buried long ago, dies not unless there energy sources are won over by the one who is present.

She, supposed to be the master of her ‘house’, failed to associate with the energy sources, the very associations which energized and brought to life what she thought was dead and buried, owing to absence of her very presence. Finding quality energies these ‘old, old’ selves lead her away from her home. When one is lost, near or far, loses the sense of reality. Now excitement shall reins the mind and mind will commands moods. Moods are impulsive when energetically excited uncaring of the consequences. Now ‘old, old’ selves shall determine where they dump you.  In excitement one forgets to ‘see’ the ugliness of the dump. One fails to realize that bringing to life to these ‘old…old’ selves is pronouncement of death sentence to the ‘intending self, we identify as our real self. It’s like one is riding a reckless mad horse, an impulsive daredevil hot head, heedless of any consequence.

Puncturing by Piaya by Steve Jurvetson

Puncturing by Piaya by Steve Jurvetson

The only way left to me was to puncture her excitement. Puncturing excitement isn’t an easy job. It’s painful, both ways. The pain can push one to adopt a defensive posture. The one lost in excitement invariably comes up with justifications if you try to reason out the fallibility of excitement. These justifications feel false in some other time in some other state of being. But not when one is bent to defend one’s excitement driven by excitement.  If you continued to insist drawing the persons attention to the consequence of how excitement might dump one in some pit, the defense turns into offense which infects the other, which invariably turns into a battle to settle who is right. I took the risk and punctured her excitement. It was easier for me to do so in the wake of the fact that her ‘intending self’ had associated herself with me thus turning me as ‘her’ energy source. It’s not that we have never got into a ‘battle of egos’. But, in view of my special position it was easier for me to evoke her ‘intending self’ and make her ‘see’ the consequence of excitement. Besides, I went well prepared this time. Normally, I hide my emotions which to me are meant to ‘feel’ and not speak using the drive. Besides, emotions do affect the other person if the other person is on the same page, if both vibrate with the vibration akin. I, intentionally and tactically, expressed my emotions, which soften her enough so as to make her receptive to the needle of reason I puncture her excitement with. She realized in the very instant.

(How did I punctured her excitement, I shall write another piece as it contains whole lot of dialoging)

home by Charlie s

home by Charlie s

To my joy, she realized her state of being and turned her pain into sadness, taking an about turn. Her sadness infected me but I was happily sad, not sadistically, but blissfully.


Sadness is what impels you to return back home. Yes, I see her on the way, back home.