If today is the tomorrow you dreamed about yesterday----and the present contains nothing more than the past----and what is found in the effect was already in the cause, then dreams are the tomorrow of the self that we see in the mirror.
If it’s true that a dog may be man's best friend, but the horse wrote history, then perhaps life is nothing more than a dog and pony show. If so, and you think you have no dog in the fight, and have only a one-trick pony, then you’re only dreaming if you think you have a future in horsing around in this dog-eat-dog world.
Time can be a bitch in its finest moment if the clock-face we gaze into for an expert opinion of where we are in life is really a headstone on man’s greatest attempt to technologically capture the aromatic essence of that bottled “jinn”. It becomes a most macabre and grandiose of sweeping gestures signaling humankind’s incontestable “understanding” of time, settling any and all arguments as the most cynical do by “quoting” death in nuanced threat.
Well, to whatever extent one is even passingly concerned about death, up to but not including the impact of its naked consideration on the nuts and bolts of perpetuating one’s lifestyle, there should at least be an acid-test on its relevance to whatever “bigger-picture” insinuates itself into that mechanism of “lifestyle promulgation”, scruples be damned. It seems that the time leading up to death should tell us more about the nature of death----and collaterally the nature of life----than just an obituary, bad breath, and 21grams cheating both the auditor and his pet maggot.
If time were explored with the same attention to detail as we so submissively yield to when scrutinizing the way matter occupies space, we might see death in a less threatening way, though the greatest threat to life seems to be the way we live it; never mind death. If only the primal plaintive cry of helplessness/hopelessness in the face of the clock could become more of a concerted effort to hack, decode, decrypt time in a way so that we can not only affect its flow, but creatively interact with it for more predictable outcomes to life’s efforts…
In what kind of “Bizarro-world” is this even possible? If we can momentarily visualize death and life as two sides of a continuum, seamlessly connected by a shared path----kind of like a cosmic Mobius strip----and not as a mutually annihilable binary, apelike dancing that old dirge of yore, we can see time struggling to be made more manifest by its associations with the very constituents of matter whose nature it predicts through causality. Along the way we realize that real time exists as timing and not in some separate entity we’ve come to know through its relentless, maddening tick-tock.
If there is some truth in any of this, perhaps there is enough to reach that vaulted threshold of being directly observable, being mindful that it may be hiding in plain sight, in something we are all familiar with, but never suspecting what it really means…
Rao Bahadur G. B. Ambegaokar of Baroda 1865 - 1934 by Kalpana Parlikar
Berugalu mattu Rekkegalu by Malathi Rangaswamy
ANECDOTAM ..... an ordinary life by Manu Duggal
SECOND INNINGS by satish jain