Pressure Cooker

They say shower thoughts are funny. But I disagree.


They are a hell of a lot more than funny. Funny is just the tip of the iceberg.
They are philosophical, so much so that they challenge your very existence.
They inspire the economist in you, one that always craved to understand what the heck the GDP meant, and how the per-capita is calculated, and how our daily actions impact the economy.
They take you back into your past, and forces you to face the brutal reality that stupidity can at times be for good.
They reveal the fact that you always failed to notice, those simple inventions of the past that you use, and take for granted, are so powerful that they are impacting your life, and all the actions you’ve carried out thus far or will carry out later on.

That’s a lot of pros for me to defend, and I better explain myself, and you bet, I can!

Take for instance, a pressure cooker.
You don’t mind if I start talking about the list down to top. Do you? One paragraph below corresponds to each of the pros I listed above, down to top.

A pressure cooker is in my opinion an extremely significant invention of the past. How so, you ask? Just look at it. Look at the amount of energy it saves while it is cooking, and think about the amount of energy it has already saved since its incarnation. Energy in the form of electricity, the relatively less water being consumed, the number of dishes used while cooking being reduced to just 2 to list a few. If you say there are cons, such as you cooking using a pressure cooker on a flame powered by charcoal several years ago, that’s a problem with charcoal, not pressure cooker.
Now, that’s the energy part in brief. You think about it, and you will find more and more reasons to appreciate this simple invention.

If a mortal that never used a pressure cooker cooked something for the first time, and out of hunger or laziness, didn’t wait for the vapor to escape from the cooker, and opened the lid, he definitely hurts himself. You witnessed such a scene? You did? This must tell you some serendipitous side-effects of this magnificent invention. One: The mortal that’s hurt is now hospitalized, and the doctor that treats him makes money. Two: While he’s being treated, it is likely that the pharmacy is also benefited. Three: So does the fruit seller, and the rickshaw wale, or the taxi driver these days, while the mortal is transported and the list goes on and on. Stupidity is good.

All that I’ve talked in the last few lines are contributors to the GDP, and per-capita. Go on and read more in Wikipedia if you like. The doctor, fruit seller, rickshaw wale, everyone contributes to GDP, and affect their per-capita in their own way, and the world bank upgrades of India.

The mortal that’s hurt, if it is severe, it does, for sure, challenge his very existence. Oh Lord, philosophy of existence has also been taught.

Don’t you now think the shower thoughts are more than just funny?




In just about everything, there’s intrinsic beauty
that’s nothing but immaculate.

Like the freshness in blossoming flowers’ petals,
or the kind colors of the setting sun permitting the gazing.
Like the tenderness in the told love,
or the depth of the untold love.

Perhaps all it takes is the willingness to see.


None of this is making sense anymore.

My mind defying the reasoning,
and stalling to think, but
tunneling all my energy to just pound the heart
several times faster, all of a sudden, and
often to yank myself off my body
to force me look at myself,
to challenge and prove that I’m failing to
recognize myself coz I’ve fallen apart
long time ago through
the constant motivation I’ve always had,
to find things that only complicated my life,
eventually leading me to fear just about everything
in life, and that there’s
no way I rebuild myself.
I’m afraid to seek an answer, a way out of this sinkhole,
as all such efforts thus far only kept breaking me further apart,
one experience at a time.

Am I in the vicinity of insanity?
If I ain’t, I wish I’m taken right into it,
as quick as possible,
for I will then be sure that I’m insane, completely,
and that it is okay if nothing makes sense,
and laughter and cry are no different.

No Particular Reason


I think about it, and with a little effort, I’m sure as hell I’d know who that healthy passenger or crew member is, that had ham or green peas and farted into the beautiful sky while at an altitude of 20 thousand foot. I can even tell if it was just ham or just green peas that (s)he had, or both, also in which order and quantity, if at all (s)he had both. I can as well tell if it was a group farting in ultimate unison. But for the life of me, I don’t know why I cry sometimes for no particular reason. Is it due to malfunctioned hyperosmia that affected my brain, and half way through impacting my nose forgot to do so, and left me with melancholia?

Lone Wanderer


I wonder what you seek in those
lone wanderers you come across
as you take rounds
gazing all the way into the
dark corners of their hearts
that lit up by the brilliance of your beauty
as they reclaim, and reveal theirs
to their forgotten selves;
beauty that lasts for moments as they
lose themselves to you in
moments that’re willfully vulnerable,
and full of love they seek;
the same love they once were fortunate enough
to have received,
or have had the greater luck of finding one who could
find meaning in the love that was given.

Is that what you seek, too,
you lone wanderer?