There is complete silence on the top floor. The reverberating water pump and the hum of water flowing through the PVC pipe come together to accent the silence. I sit down cross-legged on the floor. The floor’s chillness touches my spine permeating my fleshiest parts. I quiver, but start enjoying it soon. The occasional breeze is utterly enjoyable for its infrequency. I observe half a minute’s silence (as taught), thinking what’s going to happen tomorrow. Now, I check my posture and start chanting my mantra. Thoughts start flowing faster than the mantra. I try to decide whether I should have a haircut tomorrow. "Cannot get up early. Will have to postpone it to Saturday", I conclude.

I evaluate my two ex-girl friends. "Which of them was heavier, more attractive?" I try to judge. Cannot decide. I think about the cold night when I first tried to trace the blue vein from the wrist of the first, and then, about how I struggled to carry the second girl’s 62 kgs of 22 years - piggyback! By the way, where are they now? I think more on these lines. I drop the subject. From somewhere beneath these thoughts, I keep hearing the mantra. I see the big lingam of the Big Temple. It grows before my eyes. It grows and grows. And grows.

I still hear the mantra. Now, I don't. I lose focus.

I'm not thinking. I think, I'm not thinking.

Things start to get a bit hazy. I feel the familiar comfort in my neck, back and limbs. Time dies. I feel the breeze. I hear the hum from the water pipe. I'm weightless. I enjoy the slight convulsion that I always feel at the end of every session. I feel relaxed. I try to prolong the sensation. But, not for long. "Has it been 20 minutes?" I wonder. So it’s time to stop. But, I don’t. I want to continue. Thoughts start.

With effort, I stop chanting the mantra and keep silent for another minute or so. I feel a convulsion. Very pleasant. I'm done.