Ronie Dinosaur

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...

Better than a life spanning a hundred years are the days of love-so long as you know it is love. What if I became a philosopher and knew everything? What if I gained the life I never had-still nothing. What if I fucked a thousand women-still nothing. But if I had the life I wanted, while knowing what I already had? Read more from here...

A man who never distinguished between dolls and a sold one. A woman showed me why a sold one is called a whore- then pointed a finger at me. Why would she call someone like me? That's why people buy and light firecrackers by their own hand. Desire is a bubble Read more from here...

Why was I sent here in the first place? I never signed up for this. Now they're playing God with my life- crooning self-praising anthems like twisted prayers, bowing to their own reflections. Later, they'll surely ask if I'd return to the rehab. Read more from here...

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How to Arouse Desire? To make them want you, let them taste you-at the pace you set. But you can never gauge their appetite. You feed a predator and expect love? That's when it dangles forever between guilt and self-pity. No matter how sweetly you play the prey, the predator won't be kind. They'll savor your misery, devour all of you, yet never grasp that they can't disappoint you endlessly and still demand your craving. To them, you're a fly to swat, a fool needing constant direction. Hey you-what's with this thirst for endless attention? Don't you know the tide can turn anytime? That scrap you're getting could vanish if you beg for more. Remember: I'm not the one who wants you. You're the one chasing me. Son, you're just a fan; I'm the queen. Our bond? My availability, on my terms. I know you miss how, just moments ago, you felt essential to me. But dear, there are fires to tend-situations, people demanding me. You're just... you. Sometimes, your intensity exhausts even a woman's heart. How do you bear it? I'm seeking a man of sharper intellect, one who reads my needs and delivers. I don't trade gifts or money for instant love-I'm human too, maybe wishing for a genie. I've left you nothing to toy with anyway. If you insist on playing, drop the neediness. Keep swiping, but the game's done, dude. I'm walking with the prize and trophy. Save your tantrums for Mom. Once the animal's trapped in the iron maiden, or the fish hooked, it might seem like skill on my part. But sweetheart, the real talent isn't the hook-it's your hunger for the sting, your drive to rise through the pain. I tease it in my absence, mix it with pity-love when I'm near, giving you just a glimpse of care. You crave being tended. But I'm no hunter-you're too naive to grasp the hunt's fine print. I'm too sharp to squander time on your pleas. Listen: Stand firm. Be a man. I have commitments. They might be waiting. Read more from here...