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Random thoughts of a mad woman
You ask me how I became a mad woman. It happened thus: One day, long before many gods were born, I woke from a deep sleep and found all my masks were stolen—the seven masks I have fashioned and worn in seven lives

BELOW ARE some of many random thoughts, which keep haunting me, and keep me mesmerised ,they keep me hooked to you .These are all courtesy Khalil Gibran .I remember when Amrita (Pritam) spoke of first melody, first painting , first words . I envy them to have thought and said it before I do. I curse myself for not being the first painting ,the first melody, but I am there, I was there and will always remain…..will always remain ….

You ask me how I became a mad woman. It happened thus: One day, long before many gods were born, I woke from a deep sleep and found all my masks were stolen—the seven masks I have fashioned and worn in seven lives—I ran mask less through the crowded streets shouting, “Thieves, thieves, the cursed thieves.”

Men and women laughed at me and some ran to their houses in fear of me.

And when I reached the market place, a youth standing on a house-top cried, “She is a madwoman.” I looked up to behold him; the sun kissed my own naked face for the first time. For the first time the sun kissed my own naked face and my soul was inflamed with love for the sun, and I wanted my masks no more. And as if in a trance I cried, “Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks.”

Thus I became a mad woman.

And I have found both freedom and safety in my madness; the freedom of loneliness and the safety from being understood, for those who understand enslave something in us.

But let me not be too proud of my safety. Even a thief in a jail is safe from another thief.

When My Sorrow Was Born

When my sorrow was born I nursed it with care, and watched over it with loving tenderness.

And my sorrow grew like all living things, strong and beautiful and full of wondrous delights.

And we loved one another, my sorrow and I, and we loved the world about us; for sorrow had a kindly heart and mine was kindly with sorrow.

And when we conversed, my sorrow and I, our days were winged and our nights were girdled with dreams; for sorrow had an eloquent tongue, and mine was eloquent with sorrow.

And when we sang together, my sorrow and I, our neighbours sat at their windows and listened; for our songs were deep as the sea and our melodies were full of strange memories.

And when we walked together, my sorrow and I, people gazed at us with gentle eyes and whispered in words of exceeding sweetness. And there were those who looked with envy upon us, for sorrow was a noble thing and I was proud with sorrow.

But my sorrow died, like all living things, and alone I am left to muse and ponder.

And now when I speak my words fall heavily upon my ears.

And when I sing my songs my neighbours come not to listen.

And when I walk the streets no one looks at me.

Only in my sleep I hear voices saying in pity, “See, there lies the man whose sorrow is dead.”

The Pearl

Said one oyster to a neighboring oyster, “I have a very great pain within me. It is heavy and round and I am in distress.”

And the other oyster replied with haughty complacence, “Praise be to the heavens and to the sea, I have no pain within me. I am well and whole both within and without.”

At that moment a crab was passing by and heard the two oysters, and he said to the one who was well and whole both within and without, “Yes, you are well and whole; but the pain that your neighbour bears is a pearl of exceeding beauty.”

Body and Soul

A man and a woman sat by a window that opened upon spring. They sat close one unto the other. And the woman said, “I love you. You are handsome, and you are rich, and you are always well-attired.”

And the man said, “I love you. You are a beautiful thought, a thing too apart to hold in the hand, and a song in my dream.”

But the woman turned from him in anger, and she said, “Sir, please leave me now. I am not a thought, and I am not a thing that passes in your dreams. I am a woman. I would have you desire me, a wife, and the mother of unborn children.”

And they parted.

And the man was saying in his heart, “Behold another dream is even now turned into mist.”

And the woman was saying, “Well, what of a man who turns me into a mist and a dream?”

Khalil thanks for these pearls of expression, these stanzas talk to me, explain to me, I was losing my voice, my expressions were dying.

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