Sunil's Blog – Mistico Indio

Ruminations of a poet and philosopher

Posts Tagged ‘Sunil Kumar’

Which person do you sympathise the most from Greek mythology?

Posted by Sunil on July 7, 2020

By Sunil Kumar(From My Quora answers)

Interesting question. I don’t sympathize with anyone as such. Even though Indic philosophy urges us towards universal brotherhood, there’s this Herculean gap in my mind while considering another culture.

But, having read their mythology since childhood, the most intriguing and self sacrificing character that kind of evoked my sympathy was Prometheus. As a Titan, he made the ultimate sacrifice for humanity by giving the secret of fire free from the control of the zealous and self-centred Zeus.

Also the subject of a huge poem by Shelley, and passingly mentioned in the more readable ‘Circe’ by Madeline Miller who kind of makes the whole Greek universe enchanting in her prose.

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Surreal City Excerpts

Posted by Sunil on August 9, 2013

Hi Folks,

Here’s something to entertain you. Excerpts from “Surreal City”. Only the racy sensual parts. If you would care to read the description; my novel is a paranormal thriller. In short, the supernatural. No AXN, just a rollercoaster ride around the world. Apparently, Sunny Leone is the most searched star in India; and Kate Middleton somewhere in the Wild, Wild World. (West; but that’s the rest; the globe with my friends from China, the Americas, Africa, the North and South Poles).

(A
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So something;( To make it absolutely clear: Excerpts from My Novel: Surreal City” © Sunil Kumar, 2012)

Also Everybody Kindly read this stuff in bold:
WORK OF FICTION: NO RESEMBLANCE TO ANY LIVING CHARACTER, RESPECT EVERY FAITH, IDEOLOGY AND CREATIVE FREEDOM)

#1: (A Scene somewhere(Old Delhi): Khurbaz’s friend Shadab meets the dusky Begum Afroza late at night. Never during the bright incoherent light of day. The strict rules their families follow mean that devising an ingenious method is necessary. They meet at their cousin Aaliyah’s place, mostly empty, always available.

They meet secretly at night, laughing and jumping in a melodramatic garam-masala way. The house is very dark, and the dogs are barking relentlessly. The light switches off and on, a set for a horror movie. Sex has to be partially lighted, a touchy-feely extravaganza.

Realizing they are completely alone, Afroza tempts him, unabashedly. Shadab carries her straight to the next room; ignoring the stained and kababed walls. They change positions partially undressed in a ridiculously small space.

As Afroza takes off her embroidered salwar, Shadab grabs her big round breasts. He squeezes one of them, hard. At that moment, he feels nothing else matters. Just the intense, hot touching, the tiny champagne-bubbles of ecstasy, everywhere.

She rubs her nipples suggestively, then grabs the bed sheet and rolls over completely. Her body is extremely curvy and tight. A wrapped, busty Amazon. She is now completely naked, moaning and wriggling.

As she moves her hips, Shadab is even more aroused. He looks at her hair and bosom, the abode of unrestrained love. Afroza stares at him, and then starts licking his mouth’s corners. They look at the ceiling; the sex goes on till dawn.

Scene # 2( The Coast of Ipanema: I mean somewhere in Brazil):

Antonio’s naked, almost. Removing his underwear, he goes into the old bathroom. The shower is running. Flavia will come in the evening, quickly, after work. A little reflection reminds him of all the past women, the ghost of Christmas past, the busty Italian women or the small, delicate fingers of the short Far Eastern masseuse. His latest flame can be a roller-coaster in bed, a blow hot, blow cold love machine.

Flavia sneaks in, closing the room softly. There is a fire running in the main room, as hot as the one within them. The shower is running, and Flavia strips down to her knickers. “Do you smoke?,” she asks. “Sometimes,” Antonio replies quickly.

“Well I do that,most of the time!,” Flavia says. She removes her flimsy lacy top. Her pink nipples are gleaming in the soft light, a stunning gleaming costume. Antonio grins and lies down. Flavia runs her fingers over his torso, making him even more aroused. An empty wine glass is lying quietly on the side.

Flavia’s breasts bounce and jiggle in front of him. Her body sways, as Antonio’s hands reach for her thighs. They kiss wildly, moaning softly into each other with short, panting breaths. He starts off slowly, and then gets faster as she becomes more excited.

“Bite me,” she says. Her whole body convulses as she scratches his back and screams. He grabs her hair, and they make love till the morning.

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Happy Birthday, Mr. President!

Posted by Sunil on February 24, 2013

By Sunil Kumar

I have completed “” years on the planet. Happy Birthday to me! Coincidence; me shares a birthday with the founder of Apple, Nike, one of the Beatles; the CM of an Indian state, film-makers and writers. Whoever thought of the concept of celebrating another year of existence on the planet was a crank; or a genius.

What predicates existence(specifically mine!) The story of the world around me; the legions of people in the world (including myself) now in an avatar of profligate extension of their own selves. Many of them in verbose flow; despising and earnestly loving the pomp and the show. Paper, music, social networks; endless blabber. Television shows; defenders of the faith, ideas in stasis; the slang states of India and beyond. (English sure is a funny language, malleable, adaptive; a million dialects).

Dripping blood; vineyards of the soul. Poetry; philosophy, prose. No interconnected thoughts in a linear collage. BBFN! I will meet myself again!

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