Theater of Life

What am I to say

What am I to do

Whether I am to stay

Or must I go

Is it up to me

Or is it up to you

I guess,

Nothing is up to anyone

It happens when it happens,

Till then behind the curtains

We must arrange our things

When the time comes

When the curtain opens

All will be exposed

And judged

By hundreds of gods

Sitting quietly in the dark

Watching like a hawk

The gods decide

Who was good and did well

Who was good but did not do well

Who was bad yet did well…

40 Years of Prithvi Theater

Non-existent existence

I was a just a point

A dot

In a state of singularity

I had no face, no body

No heart or brain

No identity or name

But that was real ‘me’

Entirely me

It was blissful being that dot…

Now there are trillions of dots inside me

In my body, in my brain

All these dots interact with each other

And with other dots in the universe

Getting entangled

They fight and cry

Love, hate, even rejoice

Sometimes outside dots order my dots around

In another moment my dots want to run the world

Want to own the world…

I miss that early state

That one dot was much more sacred

Than all these trillions put together

My originality is lost due to multiplicity

I wish to return to my original state

Non-existent existence