In considering what is significant and insignificant, in asking questions that aren’t questions, and giving answers that answer nothing, we send days and decades to the graveyard of mediocrity. We ourselves dig their grave, bathe them, and bid them adieu. We are the culprit and the victim, the oppressor and the oppressed, and the subject and the object. The two mingle in such a way there’s no distinguishing between them. No thin or thick line. All gets blurred. No magical way forward, no bringing the dead back. What remains are their residues, remnants, and rumps: lament, disturbances, and a special hellhole crafted along the way in the deep recesses of our being.

There’s no limit to engaging with what kills time. Bring the chaos out, poke the nose in matters least concerning, toss the backside out onto the patio, delight in hedonistic kicks, and glory in immersion. In one way or........

© Greater Kashmir