Bahabi Ne Jam Kar Chusa

Interfering with the plans of the gods had only rarely turned out well for those men who did so, and the sailors of Helen’s Grace had come to their mission understanding their lives were now worth only what the mercy of gods could deliver, and that, they understood, would almost certainly mean their deaths at sea.The captain appeared late in the process, boldly proclaiming himself the leader of the men only as the statesmen in Ithaca fought amongst themselves to appoint their favorite to command the mission. Laughter and derision had met Cyril at first, but then he opened the old, dusty bag he had carried into the gathering, pulling out the tip of a spear.Those in attendance grew silent, staring in awe and fear. They knew the origin of what Cyril held in his hand. It was the very thing which had slain the hero Odysseus. “How have you come to possess this?” some shouted, others crying “Thief!” and “Murderer!” Cyril waited until the commotion had died down and explained that he had. There is no solace, no stop for breath, and we go on and on you and I... Don't we? I am on my knees now and the whip continues its exploration of my body. Would there be any place you wouldn't touch, or haven't? I attempt to stand again, I need more from you. Please. The kisses become blows.... striking like hot iron again and again. I am on my knees once more, and not sure I can stand. You tell me to stay down, but stumble to my feet. My body has let go, but my mind still challenges you. Why must I continue, why must I get up once more??Almost to my feet, I tell you that I need more, that I want you to give me more. Cleanse me of these unslave-like thoughts... wash me clean with your whip, as only you can do. I am on my back in the sand. My body screams it is so tired. I am ancient, and the pain leaves no part of my body untouched. The sand is warm and I could crawl into it, and sleep for a million years, but you are still above me.Do you know what it is I need? Do you know why I am.
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