My Beloved

Are you angry with me, because I have been away from you for two months? You have got to believe me, when I say that I was thinking of you all this while. I've just reached home, kept my luggage, and have come down to see you.

I still remember that rainy August evening, when I saw you for the first time. The setting sun's red glow was falling on you thru the glass. Your blue highlights were gleaming. It had just rained, and there were still a few drops on you, and you looked just perfect. It was love at first sight, I must admit.

We have been thru a lot. You were there when the accident happened, and both of us, fortunately escaped unhurt. We have been to beaches, thru Mountain passes, into the dense fog, in the chilly winters, and the wet rain. We have been together for a really long time. You really don't believe that I don't care for you.

On the flight home, I was thinking of you, and how you would respond. Are things going to be totally different between us from now on? Are you going to the give me the same response when I touch you? I'll have to see for myself, right?

You lay there under the sheet, while the sun is bathing you in the gorgeous morning sunlight. I can catch glimpses of you ankles, but you are hidden, as if angry at me. I come and pull the sheet off you, gently. The sheet moves over your curvaceous body slowly, and it's good that I don't see you completely at first. As each and every part of your body is exposed to me, one by one, I fall in love with you, all over again.

I drop the sheet aside, and look at you face. Your deep eyes, look sleepily at me, and your smile is still striking. There is a smudge of dirt on your forehead, and I lightly brush that off. You shyly turn your face away from me. I trace your figure with my fingers, and every contour feels so familiar. It's as if I had never left you.

Does your heart still beat for me? There is only one way to find out. With a quick twist of my wrist, I turn you on, and you purr like a contended kitten. I reach down to touch your throbbing bosom, and I am reassured by the rhythmic beating of your heart.

I know things will be fine between us.



Disclaimer: I had written this when I had gone back to Pune after spending two months in Delhi. I didn't post this then, because I thought, it was rather personal, and quite pornographic. A casual conversation yesterday evening, just made me rethink, about how much I love my bike, hence I decided to post it now.

Wrestling with a pig

Many of you know, that I love to argue, and I could argue for argument's sake, but I usually don't. And that's because most people lack the intellectual capability to take a line of reasoning to its logical end. Most people also are ignorant of the various fallacies and tend to muck up. Arguing with them is useless. It is like trying to play chess with someone who has never played it, and refuses to learn the rules.

However, when someone tries to convince me to change my behavior or outlook, I have to defend my self, and tend to bring the full arsenal at my disposal. Something similar happened today. Someone was trying to convince me, that I should be less skeptical. I was not going to take nonsense like that, and argued till the other person had no point to make. This is when she said

That when wrestling with a pig, at the end you are both filthy and exhausted –but you get the distinct feeling that the pig enjoyed the experience.

It suddenly struck me, what an absurd metaphor it is. Firstly, What kind of person actually goes to wrestle with a pig? And even if someone actually did, what is the best outcome that he or she could expect?

Even though this metaphor was totally irrelevant here, it says more about the person who gets in to wrestling with the pig, rather than the pig...