Ronie Dinosaur

Ronie Dinosaur Chapter 118 – Neither Nor Neither submission nor aggression. A woman who neither kneels nor strikes. For the philosopher-athlete forged in one scarred body, a companion who meets affection and responsibility in equal measure- no reflex to drag him under, Read more from here...

Ronie Dinosaur Chapter 92 – Hunger and Poverty The point is— a man must eat when it is served. Yet I carry this blame: I did not eat, though the world knew my hunger— those who fed me, Read more from here...

Ronie Dinosaur Chapter 23 - Ulubulu lulu Neither sunlight came, nor shade. Neither Shiva, nor Buddha. Neither ghost, Read more from here...

From age 21 to 33 - twelve long years - I kept my body and my heart locked away from any woman. I didn't touch a single girl for twelve years. Now, at 42, I still have no girlfriend, no hand to hold, no voice that calls me hers - never had. I didn’t finish my degree, and I carried the debt of my parents’ favours - debts I had to repay, along with the blame of running away from my obligations. Still, I earned about 300,000 dollars in that time, without anyone investing a dime in me. Childhood vanished into studying for a future I never reached, and most of my youth burned up fulfilling duties that never fed my soul. I walked away from my studies because they no longer served my purpose - books couldn’t give me the emotional intelligence I needed to talk to a girl, to express myself, to be human in the ways that matter. Read more from here...

Losing every battle, one by one, Ronie Dinosaur arrived- scarred, stripped bare, still standing. I no longer know where the winners went, or whether they ever existed. Even cattle need a shepherd. Read more from here...

This is something beyond mere bad intentions-people with very little ability have those, not me. The reason I don’t have a girlfriend until today is because I’m too horny. I have a lot of lust, and it isn’t an issue of intent; it’s part of my character that I feel it in excess. It steals the show, taking the spotlight away from moving step by step toward mutual understanding and affection. I end up giving the wrong message by mistake. And my low emotional intelligence makes it seem like lust is the only way I know how to approach a girl. I don’t live by the clock. Sometimes I sleep at eight and wake up at midnight in the middle of winter, and I have no desire to sleep again. That’s normal for me. From my study years to my athletic days to the period of alcoholism, I never cared about a watch. For me, dark is light and light is dark; neither is special. I’m lonely during the day just as much as I am at night. That “love at first sight”-I never saw the girl beyond her eyes, let alone anything below the belt. I was afraid that even looking at her would make her dirty. With the girl in college, I restrained myself whenever she became affectionate because I was scared she would misunderstand me. Maybe that’s why I could never say what I actually felt, and I lost her-and many others later. When I say nobody ever wanted me, I mean I wasn’t good-looking enough for anyone to choose me on that basis alone. A man desires women. That is biological and natural. It is not a flaw in my character, but I treated it as one. In India, women portray themselves as devas-untouched by desire-yet the same woman at night expects a man to ravage her. At my age, I didn’t know the second half of that psychology. I only knew the devi part. If I told a girl that I desired her, it would weaken my claim of being with her. Besides, I don’t think the two girls who tried to hit on me did it successfully, because they only tried to touch me-by accident or by intent, sometimes even forcefully. The only real solution is following my own decisions and desires instead of being manipulated by someone else’s. My questions were unclear; I wasn’t asking the right things. I was beating around the bush, trying to act naïve the way they did. No matter how affectionate I am inside, I have no problem calling myself a randa, a man of lust. I’m stating facts and looking for answers. I don’t chase. One negative reply and you’ll never see my face again. And those girls must have thought at some point over tea: “This motherfucker didn’t persist or insist. We might have even said okay.” Read more from here...

Should I lie and say something else? What have I actually observed in this world? I witnessed every woman I met choose someone-anyone-but never me. Should I pretend they rejected me because there’s some fundamental flaw in me? If my heart is not able to feel love at all, or the thing in my heart is not love at all? Read more from here...

Only this can be done- so this will be done. Even if victory slips away, it will still be done. Fear demands a steeper price than failure ever could. Read more from here...

The stark difference between Shiva and Ram begins with the direction each chooses. Ram belongs to society; Shiva stands outside it. Yet they feel like twin expressions of one primal force, moving on different planes of existence. Shiva listens only to the mann-the raw, untamed inner will. He bows to no one; insult or misunderstanding mean nothing to him. Ram listens to the voices around him, follows rules, and bows readily. Society crowns him the ideal because obedience makes him useful-an image sculpted perfectly for public worship. Shiva carries no such burden. He can be animal, dinosaur, or Ardhanarishvara-half-woman, wholly free. He refuses the narrow cage of masculinity that society demands and ignores every game of approval. Whatever Ram builds within civilization, Shiva dissolves by simply being himself. Both arise from character, but Ram’s is shaped from the outside while Shiva’s rises untaught from within. The mann invents its own law; copied ideals do not. That is why Shiva has no avatars. He is not a replica, not a rebirth, not part of Vishnu’s line of refined societal images. Ram, the seventh avatar, is a continuation-son shaped by father, ideal polished by tradition. Neither figure is complete alone. Shiva eventually enters society after wandering beyond it; Ram is exiled to the forest and learns freedom by force-two reversed journeys toward the same center. Each supplies what the other lacks. A woman becomes the bridge in this alchemy, because every person seeks to balance the wild inner Shiva with the disciplined outer Ram. In the swayamvara hall, Ram pursues and wins Sita; desire begins on his side. Picture the scene: the clang of bowstring, the murmur of watching kings, the sharp intake of breath when the bow snaps. His victory is public, earned, performative. Shiva moves differently. He is pursued. Women worship him through the Shivalinga, meeting him as equals, not subordinates. Shiva allows, he permits the woman to feel the power through him. Ram-no matter how ideal he appears-still needs to hold power over the woman he wins. The wife is expected to bow; the worshipper of Shiva stands eye-to-eye with her god. Ram is desired as husband, son, brother-roles society can use. Shiva is desired for the Shivalinga itself: source, not symbol. People need Ram because they can possess his story. Shiva exists whether anyone needs him or not. These are two modes of being: the wild interior truth (Shiva, the mann) and the socially sculpted identity (Ram, maryada). Wholeness comes from holding both without letting either dominate. “Who am I?” must flow into “Who are you?” just as Namaste answers Namaskar. Awareness is not isolation; it is the meeting of two truths. Read more from here...

Without fear, without regret, from a point where there is nothing to lose, with an open heart-they humiliated me. From that girl in school to a whore from the parlour, sometimes I think I was made like a lab rat Read more from here...