Is It Really Madness?

Yesterday I wrote three poems. I badly wanted to write something unlike what I do for this blog. I wrote several lines and deleted them before I could write a poem that hardly rhymed. But I felt nice after having published it on Gridlocked (xubayr2.blogspot.com). I composed it using Google documents and posted it directly from there. I got a further urge to type and I ended up writing two more on same ideas but contradicting perspectives. I wanted to play with lines this time. I smiled at what I did.

I have blocked Gridlocked from public viewing and only my friends who received the invitation can read it. I have some poems and posts on it I don't want everybody to read them. But I wanted these three things I wrote yesterday to be kept open and also available on search engines. And so, I created a web page using Microsoft Publisher, created an account on www.6te.net and uploaded that page to get it hosted on the Internet. I knew this as a possibility to host such pages but I have tried it myself for the first time. It took some time but I can do it anytime now again. The link to the page and of course those poems is http://xubayr.6te.net.

In the evening today we went out for dinner. It was only vegetarian. I had a heavy fruit juice after that. It was after a long time that I tasted this type of food. Earlier in the afternoon I had vegetarian again with fried ladies finger which was cooked by me. My mother had left the vegetable cut in the morning and I just had to fry it. It took me a good 15 minute exercise with the pan before I could get the ladies finger in a good color. Though I used right amounts of salt and oil, it didn't taste like how my mother cooks.

A few days back I read some of my old posts, I went across a letter, and an article I had named as "This Is Madness". I read the last paragraph first and started laughing. I called myself mad. When I read that letter I felt rather embarrassed thinking about the number of people who might have read it without my knowledge. Perhaps it was my mistake. Or perhaps it was just a necessity. Whatever it was, it wasn't understood well. There were two replies from my friends to that letter and I read one of them. I felt better after that.

The paragraph which I read was: "You like being called mad and you love to be mad. You wish even ~ calls you mad. You are mad for ~. And you are proud to be so. You even know that the person reading this is going to term you as a mad. You want that to happen because you are mad. This, of all things, is madness." To many it looked fiction. For me it was a thanksgiving to myself.