Life being a parotta
Looking deep down into my plate, as though i can see through the One thin layer of dough, which is folded and beaten. The resultant is again folded unto itself and again beaten mercilessly against concrete of a steel table until it's consituent layers merge into one. The resultant is again folded and the process continues until the layers themselves become schizophrenic about their individuality, no telling where one starts and one ends. No fixed boundaries or limits, one merges into the another, seamlessly. Consider this as a metaphor for the human psyche. The layers inside us, inside our hearts, the deepest part of our minds and hearts, layers of experiences, lessons that we learnt in our growing up years, lessons that we are imbibing even as we walk and speak to others around us. Layers inside us, each one a creation of our sorrows and happinesses. And as years pass by, these layers merge into one another, becoming indistinguishable from one another, until a time comes when