The Ballads of Gravity

സര്‍വ്വ പ്രപഞ്ചത്തെയും നിന്നിലേക്കാക്കി; ഉള്ളില്‍ എരിയുന്ന കനലിനെ തീയാക്കി,   കാറ്റും മഴയുമാക്കി, കാലച്ചക്രങ്ങളുടെ നിയമങ്ങള്‍ക്കും , ചക്രവാളങ്ങള്‍ക്കുമപ്പുറെ, ആദിയും മധ്യാന്ധവും ഇല്ലാത്തിടത്തുനിന്നു,  നിന്നെ ഞാന്‍ പ്രണയിക്കട്ടെ! പെയ്യാത്ത മഞ്ഞിനേയും, മഴയും; വീശാത്ത കാറ്റിനെയും,  കാണാത്ത സ്വപ്നത്തേയും പ്രണയിക്കുമ്പോള്‍; മഴയും മഴവില്ലും , തിരയും കരയും  പ്രണയിക്കുമ്പോള്‍ , നിന്‍റെ മൌനം അനശ്വരതയുടെ കാവ്യമാക്കുമ്പോള്‍, നീ അറിയാതെ നിന്നെ ഞാന്‍ പ്രണയിക്കട്ടെ; അതിലൊരു സുഖമുണ്ട്, പെയ്യാത്ത മഴയില്‍ നനയുന്ന ഒരു സുഖം.

My name is Stephen Dedalus. There’s no philosophical, spiritual or practical reason why I’m given this name. I am a hawk within myself. A hawk captive in the body of a human. My wings are incredibly magnificent and powerful that even in the violent and unpredictable uproars of heavens I will not be lost. The mighty spotlessness of firmament never weighs my heart to the monstrous gravity. Gravity! What a great phenomenon! I fall in love with it. It attributes meanings to objects, shapes you and me, and makes us feel life, love and lust. Gravity makes time and space possible. The pataphysical absence of gravity is the presence of incredible atomic fragmentation of energy into uncountable atoms of existence into matters and particles. Gravity makes everything possible even life and death!  I’m an anarchist. The possibilities of this life is adventurous enough to explore the transient nature of our existence in this form. My anarchism is not political, but personal that I have no ide

The thickness of air is caused by the heaviness of dreams; tears vapoured into the forms of clouds vanish into the same thick air. I haven’t ever enjoyed the beauty of night like this. Removed from the shades of family care and protection, love and company of strangers , I live in the land of events where dreams are born or carried to and died or buried. Living life alone, meeting my needs and taming them and myself is a great adventure I’ve ever set out for. It is good to be here. I learn things fast and the way I meet people fascinates me, they are happening to me. I see that same thick air floating over their head; it rains in their minds unconditionally feastings their body and soul. They are all happy. They are happy. This strange land makes them something else. The memories and thoughts of their loved ones, dreams they make into reality, struggles they turn into happiness, make them monumental men. They survive and make the possible. Life is a cocktail. A perfect mixtu

Pieta is my favourite art, an amazing Art of emotional sculpturism carved by the victim of life; it frightens me and awes me. The conditionality of human race on the acceptance of fate creates the vulnerability and greatness of its kind- Pieta is an art of aesthetic purgation. What worse could have happened in the life of a mother other than the burial of her son? The emotional trauma she faces cannot be understood or explained through any of the existing or available laws of nature or human understanding. The numbness of heart, meaninglessness of life and helplessness of death altogether execute the verdict of some unknown laws to which we are all indebted from the time immemorial. Which human reason can understand and justify that law of fate? Sculpturism of human life! What I think about pieta and the words I use fail to convey the emotional status of that particular condition of human life especially in the life of a mother. No man can ever understand it, so do I. The