Nirvana

I am no Gautama Buddha. I am not even similar to him one bit.

No, I know none of my friends, well wishers or not so well wishers think so. But why I proclaimed my dissimilarity so publicly was because of a train of thought.

Now, as we all know (or believe without knowing), Buddha attained enlightenment sitting beneath a Peepal tree. That I regularly attain enlightenment would give me some degree of similarity to the aforementioned prophet, but for the fact that my enlightenment generally follows a few stiff drinks sitting in the bar, and I am not sure that the one named above (Buddha, not the Peepal tree) would give me a pat on the back for the bar part.

Anyways, coming to the point, I am no Buddha because unlike him, my preferred place for thinking is not beneath a Peepal tree (hey environment guys, see how green I am being in this post) but on top of a toilet seat.

When you are sitting on that most hallowed of places in your home, you feel a sense of ethereal calm. You dissociate yourself from all the shit in the world, and find yourself to be completely clean both within and without. A sense of bliss envelopes you and makes all distractions go away, and lets you into almost a trance. It is in this state that your mind is at its clearest best. Logic strikes you like a flash of lightning every millisecond, and your brain works faster than that of Chacha Chaudhary (blasphemous though it may sound). And of course, not a soul in the world to disturb you. I doubt even Menaka or Rambha would have dared to break the tapasya of Vishvamitra, had he been meditating in this sanctum sanctorum. Not to mention the fact that he could have shaved off a few thousand years from the tapasya, purely because of the tranquility and calm it provides.

And of course, last but not the least, the toilet seat is what introduced me to blogging, and made me meet on of my mostest bestest friends ever... Many more toilet seats to you, Cha...