Primal Instincts

Fine Raymond Fabric, tinted Lee Cooper boots, elegant Rolex watch, Carl Zeiss specs, eau de Cologne 4711, and a Blackberry feels great on men when they sit infront of their Dell Optiplex, relaxed in an air-conditioned cabin. The scent of luxury feels a man with pride; prestige brings a swing in men's graceful steps, the chest swells, the neck holds the head high, his refinement and polish is unparalleled.

But for some men, the fine fabric solves just one purpose; it hides the Primal Instincts. Not every day is meant to display grace, some days are meant to rip off the fabric and go wild. And last Saturday was one such day, when six men, Trilok, Ajinkya, Vivek, Sunil, Venkata and I, turned brutes.

Raw power fueled our mountain bikes in our hunt in the Bhimashankar Forest; with little concern for the contours the bikes rolled on, we conquered the mountains, the streams, fear was what men knows not. The Male Ego was getting repleted; to conquer is what the men are born for; and we moved on satiating the primal instincts.

There are forces, much powerful, whose mightiness is beyond imagination. They call it Nature. Its forces shapes the globe, they cut and mold, grill and shove the whole mantle. A brute more forceful than any other that ever existed. An untamed beast! And we six never imagined what we will be confronting.

Gliding down the forest trail, I launched my bike into the Bhima River, but little was I aware that my raw muscle power won't be enough to keep my bike from being flown away by the sheer force of the rapids of Bhima. Somehow I managed to grab my bike back and pulled it ashore, and soon enough it was Trilok's turn to get flown along with his bike. It was clear to all of the six brutes that we are upto something mightier.

Mighty the devil might be, but Men of will sees no hindrance, fear is left out for the submittal beings. Something, that mighty Nature knows not, hath been bestowed only to the bipedalists, the mind, a sharp weapon designed to defeat any enemy no matter how mighty he is. And when the six bipedalists swung their sharpest weapons the mighty beast bowed down. The battle lasted an hour, but in the end Men triumphed.

Men triumphs, it's his destiny. He is the one, the wheel came to him, he lit the fire, he explored the world, he counted the stars, he built, he destroyed, he kills, and he germinates. From caves to lavish mansions, from carts to Rolls Royce, from lion skin to Armani he sprinted to refinement, leaving behind brutishness and embraced luxury, the luxury which is the trophy of the champions victory over the mighty brutish Nature. Today we don't need to fight that battle again; our ancestors did it for us. We have collected all the war trophies; it's time for victory celebration, the merriment goes on, we need not go back to our brutal days, a Noble life awaits us. But for some men, the fine fabric solves just one purpose; it hides the Primal Instincts.

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