What happens to peanuts?

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"What happens to peanuts?" Suraj asked his friend Pratik who was dropping some peanuts into his mug of beer. They were sitting in a bar. A tinge of blue had enveloped the bar, which a while ago was imbued with an intrepid red. Colors play tricks on a human mind. What you see as red is everything but the color red! Should one not have the right to know the actual color of an object instead of the color it so proudly and deceivingly reflects? But what about the colors present inside the bar? They were not coming out as any reflection from an object! Can it be that colors from a source, like that artificially glowing bulb in the bar, be different from the colors reflected from an object, like that from peanuts?

"What do you mean what happens to peanuts? Peanuts become alcoholic, my friend! Just like us!"

Pratik, has this weird habit of dipping anything edible around him into his glass of intoxication. Once, when he was drunk as hell he explained Suraj, his friend through thick and thin, how he thinks everything has the capacity to absorb the shit that goes around it.

"You see, you put garbage in and you get garbage out! As simple as that" he explained.

 "What are we, Suraj?"


" I asked, what are we?"

"I don't know, peanuts? "

"What? No, we are garbage, okay!"

"May be" Suraj shrugged off "But what I wanted to ask was what happens to peanuts when you don't break the shell yet keep it underground?"

Now Pratik was getting irritated. He had had too much of shit inside him to get into the metaphorical shit he was insinuating about.

"But who the hell do you think would bury it with a shell? If you want to get a plant you have to put the nut without the shell"

" Who the hell you say? Why, the nature! What happens to the peanut when nature is allowed to do its job? Will it not be tough for it to grow? Will it even grow?"

In a single gulp, Pratik downed his drink. He picked up a swollen peanut that remained in his mug.

"Look my friend! This is a peanut. A drunk peanut. What do you think its purpose is in this world? What is the meaning of its existence? For all that I know it has imbibed itself with my drink, with this garbage! It has served my purpose and I don't give a fuck to what happens to your peanut with that shell of yours."

"Want some?" He offered his drunken peanuts.

"No I prefer mine to grow into a plant. That's its purpose. Even if it has struggles with that shell, even if it is tough for it to grow, I am happy that it has its natural identity, its own individuality. It will either grow or die trying to."

The waiter came with their bill.

" I would like to pay for the peanuts, you pay for the drinks" said Suraj and excused himself for some fresh light, some natural light outside the bar.


  1. Even the drunkard is trying to grow. He has an identity too. Dostoevsky was a goddam drunkard.

    1. Doesn't it depend on the capacity to hold one's whiskey in his mind? Doesn't it depend on resisting garbages, metaphorically speaking, to allow a natural identity to set in?

      Talking about Dostoevsky, I have found myself a gem: Tolstoy's My confessions.
      The first page itself sets in his lack of belief in religion! Have you had a read of the book?


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