Ulyssian 3

Looking at the trivialities, she was busy with the 'mixture' in a paper-cone upside down. She was hungry. Hungry in stomach and body. This hunger kept her philosophical as she intermittently started to weave the webs to trap herself in. Freudian liberation of conflicts, merged with the primordial vices lurking in the theory of 'the survival of the fittest' by Darwin, stirred the animal instincts in her. Her mind was predominated by the symbolism of everything around with sharp sensuous awareness and sexual metaphors. The infamous cantilever bridge, at a distance shaped like her own breasts, joined together the twin cities - one completing her third century, the other one turning septua-cent-genarian. Had the bridge not been there, she thought, would the cities be masculine enough to keep life inclined towards prosperity!!! She felt like the super-symbol of the youth in the tale of these two-cities. 

 

She could see at a distance a man half naked, after his holy bath from the sacred river, was trying to dry his multi-coloured chequered piece of loin in the river breeze. She philosophised, if Shivalinga is a holy thing or not, as amidst street-fresco on the walls of the ghat, in one of the small temples looking on the river she saw a dog sleeping peacefully beside Lord Shiva. Up the strairs she confronted a girl, clearly a school-truant. Her face was full of jollity though she had nothing. She seemed perpetually happy with less of nutrition, purple skin, and dotted face and half-blonde tangled lock of hair as she had nothing to lose excepting the books in her bag.

We all are born with nothing to lose. We all do not die with such bliss. This time between our birth and death, as we all grow up, we are taught to do and feel things so that we are engrieved by an inculcated sense of 'loss'. 

This sense of 'loss', in turn, is our sense of 'belonging'.