Trash About On Your Floor

 

I completely love the movie ThoovanaThumbikal, a wonderful, well acted and interesting movie and my subject of interest is the lead actor Mohanlal who acted in my opinion the very definition of what a man We should be a free, simple, intelligent thug.

Hard to fathom, with no care for fawning, airs and without a singular drop of hypocrisy, the very air he exhales send winds to sails, He is freedom through and through.

He and Babu are two characters I can't see to get out my head.

They were men, they were fierce,free, and lived so, entering a tricycle for cold sweet lime, while tying a lungi with a goat head wrapped in plantain leaf. I mean look at those eyes, do they look like they suffer fools?

India, via Gandhi and Tagore gave us the model of the non-violent intelligent thug, You don't care a damn for the wholesome image, all you care about is your freedom, and while the world would seek your imprisonment with one goad or the other, money, it means nothing to the man who has found his floor. He can then trash about on it, bent to the read, king in every right.

And it is possible for he first and foremost picks the floor above all things, preferring that solid constant to the unassured dangle of society, When it become yours, loved, you can owe no man any explanation or apology for trashing fearlessly on your floor, Nor can any any man dislodge you. You were most likely gangled on the rungs .of the goad of society and in there lies  the noose, But if you pick the floor then who is the world to you,like Dioginese you can spit on the royalty, and you should they haven't found their floor.

I say all the time that there are over 500 books in the holy books website, which I am supposey to read at least twice, and that right there is 8 years of my life scheduled already. 

On your floor,  the world is light years too early to think it can teach you a lesson or do anything to you, it lives for your notice, in it's inquiry you find frequency in phrases like these 

You want me to..?, why me

What if I died?
Okay
Well, it's not important to me
You will have your say, I will have my way
For how long

To what end

How do you get to the floor, pick the cheapest clothing possible, live in the smallest house there is, never longing for the things of the world, either marriage or children. Sitting down with your book, who is the government to you, who is anybody even?

Once I have my phone with the Ramayana or Sutras, I travel to places and very far so if my immediate surrounding is under threat, imagine what I think of the government.

So at my floor, I dare the world to prod me, I dare it to threaten me, I dare the world to make me hangry. Man is the walking reading, constant sacrifice, The world have changed him into an effete grubber, a solipsistic onanist, he doesn't remember his floor, he must look for it by pushing aside the heaped up trash about him, then who can dislodge him.

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