The thought, before it is a thought, can be many things. It may have been an observation, an opinion, a passing conversation, a strand of hair between your fingers. But once it is a thought, it has come to a turning point. You see, thoughts are like illegal immigrants, or, a vagabond if you want to be politically correct.
They live outside the purview of your formal structures. They creep through the narrow lanes, pull over a tarpaulin and make that their home. From far, they may all seem indistinguishable – tattered, unclean, a shameless blot on the order of the mind city. But, in fact, they are all distinct, each dirty thought from the next. Each with its own unique filth, own unique composition of dirt, grime and shame.
If you have lived long enough, you will realise dirty thoughts don’t just have power. They have this primordial strength to offend, upset and overthrow every semblance of sanity with their sheer existence.
A dirty thought is not an unwanted thought. It is a forbidden thought. A much desired, anticipated, secretly cherished but never accepted as it is thought. And, each such thought opens a window onto the secret garden that no one but only we ourselves know of.
Because, you see, a thought, before it is a thought, is many things.