The Human City lies, in the night,
Darker than ever, though 'tis filled with light.
The evil aura of that vile race
Hangs around it, heavily laced
With Pollution-both Physical and in the Mind.
Everything around it, slowly sank,
The once-beautiful now decayed and dank...
Mother Nature herself cries to see
How cruelly so-called 'Humanity'
Destroys all that was peaceful, sweet and kind.
In those rectangular, unnatural dwellings,
And on those streets, are being done vile things.
Look in that house, that creature foul,
Angry, reeling, drunk as an owl-
Advancing on his bruised and beaten child.
And that girl, in that lonely street,
Cowering in fear, chased by savage Beasts...
Exhausted running, now trying to hide,
Staring wildly around on every side,
As they creep up, unnoticed, from behind.
The City crouches, hungry, hunting,
Concealed in smoke of its own making...
Hearts destroyed in the search for gain
Planting malice, reaping pain-
Evil itself, personified.
The Heavens look on with tortured Eyes,
As the power of the Devil continues to rise...
Faith in the Almighty fades away
Endless Night arrives, preceding no day,
Bringing Chaos, as order unwinds.
The people degrade into savage creatures...
Greed and rage their defining features,
Their hearts filled with desire
As they burn in an eternal Fire
Bringing Hell to Earth, as the End arrives...
Monday, October 26, 2009
Thursday, October 15, 2009
As a species comes to an end...
Has it ever happened with you, that you hear something, or read about something, something totally unconnected with your life, your world...and yet, somehow, the world seems a darker place...blacker, somehow? It happens with me everyday. Every single day. All i have to do, is open the newspaper...
It hurts somewhere deep, inside, when you see what the human race is doing to itself...when hate is so much easier than love, when more people harm each other each day than smile, even, when the ruling emotion in our lives is frustration...when all you can feel, when you see the stranger on the road, is mistrust and fear...
The villages, where our very sustenance is grown, the places most connected with Mother Earth, have people committing suicides every day, as the cruel people exploiting them, milking their innocence, shrug and find someone else to kill...and elsewhere, animals are slaughtered in the millions, a huge, unending river of thinking, sentient life being destroyed continually, to feed pure, selfish, self-destructive greed...
The concept of beauty loses all meaning and value, when faced with profit, the idea of earning money...hills are destroyed to build more, bigger, more expensive houses...whole forests vanish, replaced by factories, spewing death of every kind, destroying the World...
Children, supposed to be the very symbol of innocence, fill themselves with so much hate as to destroy everyone they can, in their very schools, supposed to be Temples of education, before destroying themselves...
God has become something only foolish people believe in, and anarchy towards the Laws of Nature has become THE way of life...
Our rulers, who are supposed to guide us, to show us how to live, are absorbed only in their obsession with money as the very system they live off crumbles around them...uncaring of all the lives they destroy every single DAY...
Our celebrities, the people we WORSHIP, are worse humans than us, and we all, perversely, enjoy seeing the hidden truths about them cruelly exposed...the shows we watch the most are the ones with the most hate, the most fights...and these shows are called the 'Reality' of our lives...
This Diwali, the Festival of 'Light', i look up at the Sky, and all i can see is a haze of smoke darkening the Sky...adding even more Darkness to our lives...slowly, inexorably, blotting out each tiny, twinkling star of Hope...
Sometimes, when you see all this, you flare with rage, ashamed that you must be a part of this species too, wanting to scream, to shout, to CHANGE things...but sometimes, overwhelmed by the utter hugeness of our self-destructive evil, all you want to do is sit down, bury your head in your arms, and cry...cry your heart out...as you feel the pain of an Earth, a Mother, whose children determinedly, surely, tread the path to a waiting, patient Hell...
It hurts somewhere deep, inside, when you see what the human race is doing to itself...when hate is so much easier than love, when more people harm each other each day than smile, even, when the ruling emotion in our lives is frustration...when all you can feel, when you see the stranger on the road, is mistrust and fear...
The villages, where our very sustenance is grown, the places most connected with Mother Earth, have people committing suicides every day, as the cruel people exploiting them, milking their innocence, shrug and find someone else to kill...and elsewhere, animals are slaughtered in the millions, a huge, unending river of thinking, sentient life being destroyed continually, to feed pure, selfish, self-destructive greed...
The concept of beauty loses all meaning and value, when faced with profit, the idea of earning money...hills are destroyed to build more, bigger, more expensive houses...whole forests vanish, replaced by factories, spewing death of every kind, destroying the World...
Children, supposed to be the very symbol of innocence, fill themselves with so much hate as to destroy everyone they can, in their very schools, supposed to be Temples of education, before destroying themselves...
God has become something only foolish people believe in, and anarchy towards the Laws of Nature has become THE way of life...
Our rulers, who are supposed to guide us, to show us how to live, are absorbed only in their obsession with money as the very system they live off crumbles around them...uncaring of all the lives they destroy every single DAY...
Our celebrities, the people we WORSHIP, are worse humans than us, and we all, perversely, enjoy seeing the hidden truths about them cruelly exposed...the shows we watch the most are the ones with the most hate, the most fights...and these shows are called the 'Reality' of our lives...
This Diwali, the Festival of 'Light', i look up at the Sky, and all i can see is a haze of smoke darkening the Sky...adding even more Darkness to our lives...slowly, inexorably, blotting out each tiny, twinkling star of Hope...
Sometimes, when you see all this, you flare with rage, ashamed that you must be a part of this species too, wanting to scream, to shout, to CHANGE things...but sometimes, overwhelmed by the utter hugeness of our self-destructive evil, all you want to do is sit down, bury your head in your arms, and cry...cry your heart out...as you feel the pain of an Earth, a Mother, whose children determinedly, surely, tread the path to a waiting, patient Hell...
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Breaking free...
He walked to school slowly, measuredly...today a day like any other. Tenth frikking grade...how he HATED it! The skyscrapers of his parents expectations, all built on his fragile shoulders...it had become so he hated going back home every day, to the same cliqued screaming, his mother screeching at him to STUDY, STUDY...all the things he enjoyed doing snatched away from him, the television a dead, empty shell, the dangling wires that his father had cut mocking him every day...the locks on the bookshelf, behind which his Harry Potters and Stephen Kings cried for release...and the reports, low grade after low grade inciting yet another beating from his father, the welts from the previous beating still unhealed when new ones formed...more and more punishments being invented with each test as his performance down-spiraled...he HATED it! He HATED the studies, HATED the bloody system, HATED his school, HATED his parents, HATED HATED HATED!The memories started it again...frustration rising in a red wave...the overwhelming need to destroy something, to BREAK something ripping through his self-control...his vision seemed to blur as adrenaline rushed through his system, walk quickening, just HOPING that someone messed with him right now...slowly, he asserted himself again, calming himself down, desperately, scared of what he would end up doing if he lost control...
He reached school, still walking in the same dead, slow, unwilling way, not wanting at all to go through it all over again...the Hell of bloody tenth standard. 'Stop it, stop it!' he forced his thoughts away...but there was no positive side to think about and calm down...he tried to shut himself off completely, imposing blankness over his mind...struggling to NOT think at all...he reached class two minutes late...and there she was. His CLASS TEACHER. She turned towards him, smiling that sarcastic smile she always reserved for him. "Come in, come in, Sir! We were all waiting for you as usual! PLEASE come in...Rahul, get a special chair for our special Guest!" And he came, sneering as usual. Rahul. Rich, spoilt brat...a bully who doubled as a perfect student. Great grades, beloved of all the teachers...and HE was the perfect target...never complaining, living his life in quiet, stony, loneliness...flunking all the tests. Even the teachers enjoyed it...that the dirty DOG's father was a donor didn't hurt at all either. He ignored the sneer, looking down at the floor, keeping himself firmly under control...but that wouldn't satisfy RAHUL, would it? He laughed sadistically, keeping the chair in the corner of the class, and said, "Please come, Sir. Sit. We are here to serve you, after all!" And the class laughed faithfully, like bloody puppies...he went and sat quietly in the corner. The abuse went on the whole period...being picked on for every tiny reason...for NO reason...just for Rahul's bloody entertainment...it got worse and worse, but he stayed just like that, staring at the floor, frozen...knowing that, if he looked up, that would be it. He would lose it.
The rest of the day passed the same way...every teacher coming into the class, removing some of their frustration, their anger onto him, and leaving...and he absorbed all that frustration like a sponge. Making it his own. Finally recess arrived, his few blessed moments of peace...he almost sprinted out of the class, running to his tiny, concealed eating place, where he sat every day, all alone, hiding from Rahul and his lackeys, his one unspoiled, undefiled refuge, where he could truly be himself. And there, in his seclusion, he let his rage out. He picked up a stone, walked to one end of his tiny corner, and threw it with all his strength at a tree, exploding into movement as he let his rage out. And then another, harder. And another. His own personal therapy, repeated each day, giving him some peace, some satisfaction...he almost smiled as he managed to scratch the tree, the sight of the sap flowing down somehow a release. At least he was affecting SOMETHING. And then, suddenly, his space was invaded. The trees were shoved aside rudely, the jeering voices reaching him, preceding the loathsome sight of HIM, him and his gang of lackeys, identical sneers on their faces, reveling in their victory. They had finally found him. He quickly became the stone again, raising his walls, preparing his defences. But he was acutely aware of how shaky they were...they had invaded his LAST, intensely private space...'Damn them!' His rage was there, right below the surface, closer than ever before...but there was no alternative. He would have to take it.
Rahul grinned. "Hi, Rat! We finally found your hole! How's it going?" But suddenly he hesitated, the sneer faltering a little as he saw something in those dead, lifeless eyes, a hidden flash, a spark...but, in his rush, he ignored his instincts...foraging on with renewed vigour, angry that he was feeling afraid. "What, are you unhappy? Did we interrupt you crying? Missing mamma? Oh, but I forgot-Mamma has given up too, no? On her little rat? Came to school and said it also, no? Cried in the office of the Princi, no? Poor Mamma rat...but not her fault! What can she do if Papa rat is a drunk dog, passing on dirty genes? Are they even his, by the way? Or some other rat, passing by? Ha? Say something, coward!" In the end it wasn't the insults that did it, but the laughter of the faithful lackeys...their mechanical "Ha ha" slowly, irretrievably pushing him towards the edge...he began to walk slowly towards the mongrel standing there, still trying to keep some last vestiges of control even though he KNEW it was pointless, and why did he care, anyway? Why SHOULD he? Everyone hated him, his so-called PARENTS hated him, they wanted him dead, didn't they? At least this way he would give them something to remember him by...and he would be doing the bloody world TWO favours-the first, by killing HIM, the second, by destroying himself. "One more word, bitch-and you'll say no more," he whispered. "Is that so, Rat? What you gonna do, ha?"
"I'm gonna wipe. That Sneer. Off. Your. Damn. FACE!" he roared, forgetting everything, mind going blank as he gave in to the rage...rushing forward, losing control entirely for the first time...feeling that Rush of pure, angry thrill...he saw the object of his hate through a red haze...saw the rest of the faithful MICE sprint...saw even HIM turn around to run. "HA!" He roared again as he reached out and grabbed the back of his shirt...the next few minutes were a blur, one long, suspended moment of MOVEMENT, of destruction, his hate pouring out of him in waves, washing away all the injustice, all the insults in pure, warm red, the screams like music to his ears...
He finally managed to stop, spent...all rage gone...finished...he looked down at his hands and felt his face twist in horror...the full realization of what he had done slamming into him, knocking him to his knees...the ground felt strangely wet...he looked down. "NOOO!" He got up and began to run, no thought in his mind but to get away from what he had seen, what he had DONE...he ran and ran...past the horrified teachers who had come to search for him...past the boys cowering in the classes...past the open-mouthed Guard at the gate. Onto the highway. He barely even heard the desperate screeching of brakes...applied suddenly...too late. He smiled, the impact washing everything away...his guilt, his fear...the image of what he had done. Free...finally...completely.
He reached school, still walking in the same dead, slow, unwilling way, not wanting at all to go through it all over again...the Hell of bloody tenth standard. 'Stop it, stop it!' he forced his thoughts away...but there was no positive side to think about and calm down...he tried to shut himself off completely, imposing blankness over his mind...struggling to NOT think at all...he reached class two minutes late...and there she was. His CLASS TEACHER. She turned towards him, smiling that sarcastic smile she always reserved for him. "Come in, come in, Sir! We were all waiting for you as usual! PLEASE come in...Rahul, get a special chair for our special Guest!" And he came, sneering as usual. Rahul. Rich, spoilt brat...a bully who doubled as a perfect student. Great grades, beloved of all the teachers...and HE was the perfect target...never complaining, living his life in quiet, stony, loneliness...flunking all the tests. Even the teachers enjoyed it...that the dirty DOG's father was a donor didn't hurt at all either. He ignored the sneer, looking down at the floor, keeping himself firmly under control...but that wouldn't satisfy RAHUL, would it? He laughed sadistically, keeping the chair in the corner of the class, and said, "Please come, Sir. Sit. We are here to serve you, after all!" And the class laughed faithfully, like bloody puppies...he went and sat quietly in the corner. The abuse went on the whole period...being picked on for every tiny reason...for NO reason...just for Rahul's bloody entertainment...it got worse and worse, but he stayed just like that, staring at the floor, frozen...knowing that, if he looked up, that would be it. He would lose it.
The rest of the day passed the same way...every teacher coming into the class, removing some of their frustration, their anger onto him, and leaving...and he absorbed all that frustration like a sponge. Making it his own. Finally recess arrived, his few blessed moments of peace...he almost sprinted out of the class, running to his tiny, concealed eating place, where he sat every day, all alone, hiding from Rahul and his lackeys, his one unspoiled, undefiled refuge, where he could truly be himself. And there, in his seclusion, he let his rage out. He picked up a stone, walked to one end of his tiny corner, and threw it with all his strength at a tree, exploding into movement as he let his rage out. And then another, harder. And another. His own personal therapy, repeated each day, giving him some peace, some satisfaction...he almost smiled as he managed to scratch the tree, the sight of the sap flowing down somehow a release. At least he was affecting SOMETHING. And then, suddenly, his space was invaded. The trees were shoved aside rudely, the jeering voices reaching him, preceding the loathsome sight of HIM, him and his gang of lackeys, identical sneers on their faces, reveling in their victory. They had finally found him. He quickly became the stone again, raising his walls, preparing his defences. But he was acutely aware of how shaky they were...they had invaded his LAST, intensely private space...'Damn them!' His rage was there, right below the surface, closer than ever before...but there was no alternative. He would have to take it.
Rahul grinned. "Hi, Rat! We finally found your hole! How's it going?" But suddenly he hesitated, the sneer faltering a little as he saw something in those dead, lifeless eyes, a hidden flash, a spark...but, in his rush, he ignored his instincts...foraging on with renewed vigour, angry that he was feeling afraid. "What, are you unhappy? Did we interrupt you crying? Missing mamma? Oh, but I forgot-Mamma has given up too, no? On her little rat? Came to school and said it also, no? Cried in the office of the Princi, no? Poor Mamma rat...but not her fault! What can she do if Papa rat is a drunk dog, passing on dirty genes? Are they even his, by the way? Or some other rat, passing by? Ha? Say something, coward!" In the end it wasn't the insults that did it, but the laughter of the faithful lackeys...their mechanical "Ha ha" slowly, irretrievably pushing him towards the edge...he began to walk slowly towards the mongrel standing there, still trying to keep some last vestiges of control even though he KNEW it was pointless, and why did he care, anyway? Why SHOULD he? Everyone hated him, his so-called PARENTS hated him, they wanted him dead, didn't they? At least this way he would give them something to remember him by...and he would be doing the bloody world TWO favours-the first, by killing HIM, the second, by destroying himself. "One more word, bitch-and you'll say no more," he whispered. "Is that so, Rat? What you gonna do, ha?"
"I'm gonna wipe. That Sneer. Off. Your. Damn. FACE!" he roared, forgetting everything, mind going blank as he gave in to the rage...rushing forward, losing control entirely for the first time...feeling that Rush of pure, angry thrill...he saw the object of his hate through a red haze...saw the rest of the faithful MICE sprint...saw even HIM turn around to run. "HA!" He roared again as he reached out and grabbed the back of his shirt...the next few minutes were a blur, one long, suspended moment of MOVEMENT, of destruction, his hate pouring out of him in waves, washing away all the injustice, all the insults in pure, warm red, the screams like music to his ears...
He finally managed to stop, spent...all rage gone...finished...he looked down at his hands and felt his face twist in horror...the full realization of what he had done slamming into him, knocking him to his knees...the ground felt strangely wet...he looked down. "NOOO!" He got up and began to run, no thought in his mind but to get away from what he had seen, what he had DONE...he ran and ran...past the horrified teachers who had come to search for him...past the boys cowering in the classes...past the open-mouthed Guard at the gate. Onto the highway. He barely even heard the desperate screeching of brakes...applied suddenly...too late. He smiled, the impact washing everything away...his guilt, his fear...the image of what he had done. Free...finally...completely.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Change.
You know when you're walking down the street, and you're pretty sure about how the world looks, how everything is working? And then something happens, unexpectedly, and-
Paradigm shift.
You're suddenly living in a different place, a whole new planet, almost...and you start floundering, struggling to adjust...suddenly, painfully aware of how little you actually know...wondering what behaviour is acceptable in THIS place, how you should be reacting, what you should be doing...and then, with time's unstoppable, inexorable flow, you adjust. What was unthinkable yesterday, is obvious today. Life goes on, inescapably...
We humans ARE a strange race, ain't we?
Paradigm shift.
You're suddenly living in a different place, a whole new planet, almost...and you start floundering, struggling to adjust...suddenly, painfully aware of how little you actually know...wondering what behaviour is acceptable in THIS place, how you should be reacting, what you should be doing...and then, with time's unstoppable, inexorable flow, you adjust. What was unthinkable yesterday, is obvious today. Life goes on, inescapably...
We humans ARE a strange race, ain't we?
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Life? She's one tough teacher.
What is it about life that just as you're settling down and, even though you know you're not supposed to, in some dark corner of your mind, you go-"I could learn to live like this, dude!"-and just as that though worms its way into your head, she gets up and BAM! There lands one HARD kick on your butt...and the wind blows, and you realize [way too late] that all the houses you ever built were beautiful, complicated monuments made purely of cards... And then you're in the trough all over again...struggling to stay afloat in that stormy, lonely ocean...wondering when, WHEN will you ever find an anchor...a boat to rescue you...you hear the faint laughter as, up there, He looks down upon you, shaking his head at how foolish you are, that you can't see what's right in front of you...and He smiles mercifully and let's you learn your lesson, for your own good. But you hate it. And then you rise up on the next wave, and there you go again, forgetting everything you've learnt so far, all your determination, everything...and He laughs all the harder. Because he can see what you can't: Life, waiting just around the corner, foot raised for the next Kick...
"This, too, shall pass."
"This, too, shall pass."
Monday, September 21, 2009
...
Why can't i bring myself to write anything these days? Creative juices have run out...wrote and discarded a whole post...and started but haven't yet completed another one! Don't ask ya...slowing down in my old age i think! :-| But he wins who perseveres, ain't it? I'm working on it...
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Pain
He sat there, all alone. The dank smell of ammonia in the cold, empty bathroom seemed to be drowning him, slowly and gradually choking out his air...after all, what else could explain the lump in his throat? The strange pain in his chest? The difficulty he was having breathing...he gritted his teeth, burying his face between his knees and struggling to keep the emotions inside, taking refuge in the cold of the floor and walls, trying to drive away the OTHER pain as he cowered in the dirty corner...trying to drive away the cruel reality that his life had become...dark, without hope...short-lived.
The door swung open suddenly, and he looked up blearily as a gang of teen punks walked in, long hair, over-sized clothes, no worries, laughing their heads off at some lame joke...their happiness made them look vaguely unreal to him, like he was seeing them through a screen...people that relaxed, that innocent...could they really exist? He smiled coldly and withdrew into his shell again as their laughter was suddenly cut off as they noticed him...somehow drawing them closer to his misery by ruining at least that moment...they looked at him, too..his pain so open, so clear, that it was obvious to them too. Most of them looked all freaked out and uncomfortable, the image before them really not fitting in with their image of the world..."Dude..." one whispered quietly. "Let's roll, maan..." the door opened and shut as they left, leaving him alone with his pain...he smiled again, feeling a perverse sense of enjoyment as he, again, relived his own, personal hell...feeling the knives digging into his heart again...
Alok Sharma, his name was...an ordinary name, that fit him like one of those designer gloves that he never even dreamed of wearing. A quiet software engineer in a big company, his identity lost among a sea of cubicles, part of that many-headed river of humanity, living his obscure, 9 to 5 life...quietly content...his education had passed that way too, always just good enough in class, working away quietly on his bench, decent performance but nothing too stand-out, well-behaved, unnoticed...college went by the same way...a decent Engineering degree. "First class," as his parents had declared proudly in the neighbourhood. Then, in a quiet ceremony with a few of his friends and some relatives, nothing too flashy, he had joint the strands of his fate with a sweet commerce graduate, his mother's friend's daughter. All arranged by the parents, of course. A quiet honeymoon in Goa, and life had settled back into its old, comfortable rhythm. His wife suited him too, fitting nicely into that rhythm...managing the affairs of their little house in Bangalore while he went out and worked, no struggles, no too many ambitions. He, too, never strove to rise high on the career ladder, testing software in a Bangalore company, a Boss's dream...one son had arrived, in the same quiet way, over the next few years...he began to attend school too, following in his father's foot-steps, giving the parents no trouble at all...and they, too, doted on him in their simple way, giving him every pleasure they could...and then, one quiet day, those simple, gently twined strands were ripped apart and destroyed so completely...
An ordinary day, just like all the others. The only slightly hurried morning routine as his son got ready for school, the relative peace as he, then, got ready for office...the dust, heat and bustle of the busy Bangalore rush hour...and then the peaceful, air-conditioned atmosphere of the office. He worked steadily all day, the break for lunch, also, like all the others, sitting quietly, unnoticed in his corner, away from the louder, chattier crowd of his younger co-workers...and then, in that ordinary break, had come the first tiny ripple of disturbance in his comfortable routine, the first, barely registered ripple of an immense wave of pain that would soon, too soon, sweep away his life...his cell phone beeped, flashing the low-battery sign. For the first time in his ordered life, he had forgotten to charge it the previous night. Five minutes more, and it shut itself down completely. He wasn't too bothered, though. Not too many world changing calls would be received by that tiny, insignificant instrument-at least, as he had thought then...the rest of the day had passed normally, no disturbances. At least until the end of the day. Just as he had been about to leave, the Boss had walked up to his cubicle, and given him one more thing to do...nothing much, but he had really wanted to get home that day, somehow. However, being the quiet, simple man that he was, he had taken the file without a word of protest and started to work on it, finally finishing a half hour later. That had been the second ripple...a strange sense of foreboding had begun to grow inside him, some instinct warning him that something wasn't quite right, a slowly but surely growing weight in his chest...
He had hurried out of the office and into the parking lot, kicked his little commuter motorcycle into gear and headed home. He drove faster than ever before that day, not paying attention to anything but the road...had even surprised himself by honking impatiently at the vehicles ahead when there was a slight hold-up...a car had stood at the side of the road, people screaming at the driver, an accident, maybe. He, not wanting any more disturbances, had hurried on. Someone else would handle it. The ripples were getting bigger, lapping at his feet...sending cold shivers of an unexplained fear up his spine...
He had reached home, the cold weight of fear in his chest almost unbearable. He had desperately wanted to reassure himself...to see that the fear was purely irrational...parking in his customary place, he had almost run to the door, controlling himself with difficulty...'Why is this happening to me?' he had thought. 'In two minutes you'll see nothing is wrong. They'll both be there at the door, and you can laugh and tell them about it. Stop hurrying. Nothing is wrong.'
Convincing himself, almost, he smiled as he reached the door, somehow still not being able to stop himself from pressing the doorbell before he registered what the lock on the door meant. Empty! The fear had come crashing back...the fury of the wave now distantly registered...he had fumbled for his key, hands trembling as he slid it into the lock and shoved it open, the door almost slamming into the wall in his hurry...he had rushed to the phone, wanting desperately to call his wife...to know that everything was fine...just as his hands reached the receiver, it rang. He had jerked back, shocked...then rushed forward to pick it up..."Hello?" His voice was shaky..."Gita?"
"Um...Sir? The lady who owns this phone..." "Yes! My wife! What happened? Is something wrong?" His throat was constricting, the panic shutting him down... "Sir...please calm down...your wife...I think you should get here and see for yourself. Please stay calm, Sir..." He had hurriedly noted down the address, not even bothering to thank the kind man on the phone as he slammed it down, rushing out of the house again...this time he had ridden like one of those maniacs he frequently came across, cutting and turning as he rushed through the evening traffic...then suddenly he had come upon it. The scene he would never, ever forget for the rest of his life... His wife, standing frozen on the side of the road...an ambulance...paramedics carrying a stretcher into the van...a tiny figure lying prostrate on it...he had known who it had been without even getting a step closer...the wave crashed into shore...sweeping him under with it...he was drowning, drowning...it couldn't be...it couldn't...
Tears streamed down his cheeks afresh, the memories crowding in upon him...he remembered the hellish ride to the hospital...the paramedics not even bothering to put an oxygen mask on...what was the point, after all? They could see it, he could see it...but he refused to accept it...talking feverishly to his wife as she sat right there next to him, still staring straight ahead...no longer alive, almost...her eyes only on the beloved son who would never smile again...never laugh again...
The whole story had been pieced together over the next few days...his son had had a bad day at school, too...his teacher had shouted at him for something and he had been upset as he had gotten out of school, missing the school-bus, his absence noticed only when the bus reached at home without him. The mother had panicked, trying to call her husband time and again but to no avail...she had waited at home, calling her son's few friends in the hope that he was at one of their places...then when even her husband had failed to come home at his usual time, she had panicked and gotten out, searching the roads for her son...on foot, almost losing her mind with worry...finally coming across the boy, their son, lying on the road, in a pool of blood...the car that had crashed him standing right there, people beating up the driver, ignoring the little boy as they satisfied their blood-lust, forgetting humanity as they unleashed their frustration and rage...and she had stayed like that, frozen, watching her son die right before her, the shock too much to take...even now she was in an asylum, still in shock, comatose, almost...
The biggest shock to him had come when he had realized that he had actually driven past his son...maybe in time to save him , even...'someone else would handle it', he had thought. But no one else had...his son, upset, sad, guilty, had tried to get to his father for comfort, walking in the direction of his office...an office he would never reach. And his father, his idol, had driven right past where he lay, dying, in the STREET...he had survived a week, attending office like a machine, living in his own shell...and then he couldn't take it any more. The decision had come to him already made, almost. He had walked out of the house, arriving at this place randomly, this place where he would end the pain...forever...
He smiled again and stood up, his legs carrying him, almost of their own accord, towards the wash-basin...the napkin blocking the drainage...the tap turned on, water filling up...the tiny pool sparkling so peacefully, so invitingly...
Far away, in a tiny room in an asylum across town, a woman's eyes flickered, recovering from her shock...she looked around for her husband, calling his name...so desperately wanting his support as she struggled to absorb her grief, to recover her life...
[Fate works in strange ways. Those who say they make their own destiny are only kidding themselves...think it's absurd, what happened at the accident scene? It's inspired from a true story. Please do not avoid helping accident victims...always remember that they, too, are real people, with lives, dreams, loved ones...]
The door swung open suddenly, and he looked up blearily as a gang of teen punks walked in, long hair, over-sized clothes, no worries, laughing their heads off at some lame joke...their happiness made them look vaguely unreal to him, like he was seeing them through a screen...people that relaxed, that innocent...could they really exist? He smiled coldly and withdrew into his shell again as their laughter was suddenly cut off as they noticed him...somehow drawing them closer to his misery by ruining at least that moment...they looked at him, too..his pain so open, so clear, that it was obvious to them too. Most of them looked all freaked out and uncomfortable, the image before them really not fitting in with their image of the world..."Dude..." one whispered quietly. "Let's roll, maan..." the door opened and shut as they left, leaving him alone with his pain...he smiled again, feeling a perverse sense of enjoyment as he, again, relived his own, personal hell...feeling the knives digging into his heart again...
Alok Sharma, his name was...an ordinary name, that fit him like one of those designer gloves that he never even dreamed of wearing. A quiet software engineer in a big company, his identity lost among a sea of cubicles, part of that many-headed river of humanity, living his obscure, 9 to 5 life...quietly content...his education had passed that way too, always just good enough in class, working away quietly on his bench, decent performance but nothing too stand-out, well-behaved, unnoticed...college went by the same way...a decent Engineering degree. "First class," as his parents had declared proudly in the neighbourhood. Then, in a quiet ceremony with a few of his friends and some relatives, nothing too flashy, he had joint the strands of his fate with a sweet commerce graduate, his mother's friend's daughter. All arranged by the parents, of course. A quiet honeymoon in Goa, and life had settled back into its old, comfortable rhythm. His wife suited him too, fitting nicely into that rhythm...managing the affairs of their little house in Bangalore while he went out and worked, no struggles, no too many ambitions. He, too, never strove to rise high on the career ladder, testing software in a Bangalore company, a Boss's dream...one son had arrived, in the same quiet way, over the next few years...he began to attend school too, following in his father's foot-steps, giving the parents no trouble at all...and they, too, doted on him in their simple way, giving him every pleasure they could...and then, one quiet day, those simple, gently twined strands were ripped apart and destroyed so completely...
An ordinary day, just like all the others. The only slightly hurried morning routine as his son got ready for school, the relative peace as he, then, got ready for office...the dust, heat and bustle of the busy Bangalore rush hour...and then the peaceful, air-conditioned atmosphere of the office. He worked steadily all day, the break for lunch, also, like all the others, sitting quietly, unnoticed in his corner, away from the louder, chattier crowd of his younger co-workers...and then, in that ordinary break, had come the first tiny ripple of disturbance in his comfortable routine, the first, barely registered ripple of an immense wave of pain that would soon, too soon, sweep away his life...his cell phone beeped, flashing the low-battery sign. For the first time in his ordered life, he had forgotten to charge it the previous night. Five minutes more, and it shut itself down completely. He wasn't too bothered, though. Not too many world changing calls would be received by that tiny, insignificant instrument-at least, as he had thought then...the rest of the day had passed normally, no disturbances. At least until the end of the day. Just as he had been about to leave, the Boss had walked up to his cubicle, and given him one more thing to do...nothing much, but he had really wanted to get home that day, somehow. However, being the quiet, simple man that he was, he had taken the file without a word of protest and started to work on it, finally finishing a half hour later. That had been the second ripple...a strange sense of foreboding had begun to grow inside him, some instinct warning him that something wasn't quite right, a slowly but surely growing weight in his chest...
He had hurried out of the office and into the parking lot, kicked his little commuter motorcycle into gear and headed home. He drove faster than ever before that day, not paying attention to anything but the road...had even surprised himself by honking impatiently at the vehicles ahead when there was a slight hold-up...a car had stood at the side of the road, people screaming at the driver, an accident, maybe. He, not wanting any more disturbances, had hurried on. Someone else would handle it. The ripples were getting bigger, lapping at his feet...sending cold shivers of an unexplained fear up his spine...
He had reached home, the cold weight of fear in his chest almost unbearable. He had desperately wanted to reassure himself...to see that the fear was purely irrational...parking in his customary place, he had almost run to the door, controlling himself with difficulty...'Why is this happening to me?' he had thought. 'In two minutes you'll see nothing is wrong. They'll both be there at the door, and you can laugh and tell them about it. Stop hurrying. Nothing is wrong.'
Convincing himself, almost, he smiled as he reached the door, somehow still not being able to stop himself from pressing the doorbell before he registered what the lock on the door meant. Empty! The fear had come crashing back...the fury of the wave now distantly registered...he had fumbled for his key, hands trembling as he slid it into the lock and shoved it open, the door almost slamming into the wall in his hurry...he had rushed to the phone, wanting desperately to call his wife...to know that everything was fine...just as his hands reached the receiver, it rang. He had jerked back, shocked...then rushed forward to pick it up..."Hello?" His voice was shaky..."Gita?"
"Um...Sir? The lady who owns this phone..." "Yes! My wife! What happened? Is something wrong?" His throat was constricting, the panic shutting him down... "Sir...please calm down...your wife...I think you should get here and see for yourself. Please stay calm, Sir..." He had hurriedly noted down the address, not even bothering to thank the kind man on the phone as he slammed it down, rushing out of the house again...this time he had ridden like one of those maniacs he frequently came across, cutting and turning as he rushed through the evening traffic...then suddenly he had come upon it. The scene he would never, ever forget for the rest of his life... His wife, standing frozen on the side of the road...an ambulance...paramedics carrying a stretcher into the van...a tiny figure lying prostrate on it...he had known who it had been without even getting a step closer...the wave crashed into shore...sweeping him under with it...he was drowning, drowning...it couldn't be...it couldn't...
Tears streamed down his cheeks afresh, the memories crowding in upon him...he remembered the hellish ride to the hospital...the paramedics not even bothering to put an oxygen mask on...what was the point, after all? They could see it, he could see it...but he refused to accept it...talking feverishly to his wife as she sat right there next to him, still staring straight ahead...no longer alive, almost...her eyes only on the beloved son who would never smile again...never laugh again...
The whole story had been pieced together over the next few days...his son had had a bad day at school, too...his teacher had shouted at him for something and he had been upset as he had gotten out of school, missing the school-bus, his absence noticed only when the bus reached at home without him. The mother had panicked, trying to call her husband time and again but to no avail...she had waited at home, calling her son's few friends in the hope that he was at one of their places...then when even her husband had failed to come home at his usual time, she had panicked and gotten out, searching the roads for her son...on foot, almost losing her mind with worry...finally coming across the boy, their son, lying on the road, in a pool of blood...the car that had crashed him standing right there, people beating up the driver, ignoring the little boy as they satisfied their blood-lust, forgetting humanity as they unleashed their frustration and rage...and she had stayed like that, frozen, watching her son die right before her, the shock too much to take...even now she was in an asylum, still in shock, comatose, almost...
The biggest shock to him had come when he had realized that he had actually driven past his son...maybe in time to save him , even...'someone else would handle it', he had thought. But no one else had...his son, upset, sad, guilty, had tried to get to his father for comfort, walking in the direction of his office...an office he would never reach. And his father, his idol, had driven right past where he lay, dying, in the STREET...he had survived a week, attending office like a machine, living in his own shell...and then he couldn't take it any more. The decision had come to him already made, almost. He had walked out of the house, arriving at this place randomly, this place where he would end the pain...forever...
He smiled again and stood up, his legs carrying him, almost of their own accord, towards the wash-basin...the napkin blocking the drainage...the tap turned on, water filling up...the tiny pool sparkling so peacefully, so invitingly...
Far away, in a tiny room in an asylum across town, a woman's eyes flickered, recovering from her shock...she looked around for her husband, calling his name...so desperately wanting his support as she struggled to absorb her grief, to recover her life...
[Fate works in strange ways. Those who say they make their own destiny are only kidding themselves...think it's absurd, what happened at the accident scene? It's inspired from a true story. Please do not avoid helping accident victims...always remember that they, too, are real people, with lives, dreams, loved ones...]
Friday, September 4, 2009
Why i believe God exists [and think you should, too!]
1. Because it's obvious?
Yeah, it really is! Think about it-What really are the chances of the Big bang explosion JUST happening? Imagine a really, REALLY long, winding road. Now imagine standing at one end of it, having never EVER traveled on it, not even knowing how long it is, properly, and being asked to guess the EXACT number of curves on it. What would you be ready to bet on getting it right? And then imagine being asked to describe each and every curve EXACTLY right, with details like angle of variation from previous line of travel, surroundings, amount of grass growing on the verge, etc etc. NOW what would you bet on it? Even provided you're drunk as an owl, aren't the odds glaringly obvious? Thats exactly what the Big Bang theory is. An infinitely long road from one single point to a universe...with each curve being an event in that chain...and each event having infinite possibilities...you get the picture. And, of course, the fact that the existence of the single point is ALSO suspect! Yeah, right. And people who believe in a MUCH more logical concept, a creator? Hell no, THEY are the fools! Look, people, when i look around at the world, and see the beautiful, greased machine that it is...perfectly self-preserving...unchanging even in constant change...the only discordant note in this beautiful, complicated chorus US humans, the probability of it all occurring by chance is SO impossible it simply vanishes for me. What IS it with people that the simple idea of something bigger and better than them is unbearable? Ha?
2. Because my ego ain't SO inflated...
that i can't take the idea. That, in my not-so-humble opinion, is the biggest issue people have with God. HOW can i agree that there is someone out there who's so much better than me that if i live for a thousand years, or more, i'll still just be a tiny, infinitesimal point in front of His almighty hugeness? NO chance! I'd much rather bury my head in the sand and spend my life denying that i ain't the best thing in the world. I control everything! Yeah, i ain't a big fan of the whole "You build your own destiny" thing either. There are, and will always be, uncontrollable elements in your life. Loads and loads of them. Of course, no one says that you stop trying to make your life better than it is and blame it all on Fate...but if it ain't there for you, you ain't gonna get it. However much you struggle. All the facts are right there in front of you, dude! Just look at 'em.
3. 'Cuz the Holy Books say so.
No, the idea ain't as absurd as it looks at first. What many non-believers say about the great religions is that they were just invented by some really smart ancestors so that people would live their lives well, and being afraid of an after-life and a greater power and so on, would be more afraid to commit crimes and be anti-social. Also, as an added bonus, the mythical ancestor would get a free fan-following, people listening to whatever he said, and loads of cash [or kind, depending on the time-span] for doing nothing but sitting around blessing people. And, maybe, it would generate employment in the future, what with all the people needed for building temples and all the priests, etc. All fine, but i see two holes in this theory. First, the scale of what some of these Books say is so vast [for example, the Hindu culture lists 330,000,000 SUB-Gods alone, and yeah, they all have a name and function. Would YOU sit around making something like that up just for those motivations?] that it is really tough to imagine anyone who had the brains, the patience, and the TIME for writing all that as human anyways. A person that smart? And getting power at that scale, with people doing whatever you told them to, it would take someone of such pure spirit not to go crazy with the power that he really would deserve to be called a God. [Evidence that their power didn't drive them mad? Read some of those Books!]
And second, if there was such a person, who was so sweet and kind and compassionate that he thought about all the future generations till the end of the world-why would he lie about what he was saying? Maybe, just maybe, honesty was another of his long list of qualities? Think about it...
4. 'Cuz atheism, or even agnosticism, is a REALLY lame excuse...
for running away from what you KNOW you're doing. A flimsy, lace curtain you hide behind, because you realize completely, that if all, or even ANY, of the religionists are right, you are majorly screwed after you die. Because hell, in none of the religions, is an attractive place, and heaven, in all of them, is definitely not where YOU are heading! Because you don't want to learn any kind of control over yourself, want to do everything that is morally discouraged in life, want to break every rule in the Book, and then want to believe you won't even be punished for it. But, trust me, you're screwed anyway. Try telling an angry patrolman on the streets that you don't believe driving drunk is illegal and just see what you get. So, cuz there ain't any running away from THIS court of law, you're much better off finding out, and following, the rules don't you think? And even if it ain't true at all about the afterlife, all you're really losing from staying away from alcohol, drugs, tobacco and crime is a huge load on your conscience, a screwed up liver, and every kind of cancer you can think of. And some that you can't. And if, by chance, it is, and you insist on doing things they say you shouldn't... Make sense to you? Sure did to me
That is mostly it. I ain't saying you should become a Vaishnav [like me], or a Christian, or a Muslim. Not yet, anyways! That is entirely your pick. After all, you never know which one might be right! [Actually, they all are, but that's another long story for later...] So i ain't some religious fanatic just waiting to get up and riot all because you call God something different...or don't believe in Him at all...nope. I'm just stating my opinion...and hoping it gets YOU thinking...please comment.
Yeah, it really is! Think about it-What really are the chances of the Big bang explosion JUST happening? Imagine a really, REALLY long, winding road. Now imagine standing at one end of it, having never EVER traveled on it, not even knowing how long it is, properly, and being asked to guess the EXACT number of curves on it. What would you be ready to bet on getting it right? And then imagine being asked to describe each and every curve EXACTLY right, with details like angle of variation from previous line of travel, surroundings, amount of grass growing on the verge, etc etc. NOW what would you bet on it? Even provided you're drunk as an owl, aren't the odds glaringly obvious? Thats exactly what the Big Bang theory is. An infinitely long road from one single point to a universe...with each curve being an event in that chain...and each event having infinite possibilities...you get the picture. And, of course, the fact that the existence of the single point is ALSO suspect! Yeah, right. And people who believe in a MUCH more logical concept, a creator? Hell no, THEY are the fools! Look, people, when i look around at the world, and see the beautiful, greased machine that it is...perfectly self-preserving...unchanging even in constant change...the only discordant note in this beautiful, complicated chorus US humans, the probability of it all occurring by chance is SO impossible it simply vanishes for me. What IS it with people that the simple idea of something bigger and better than them is unbearable? Ha?
2. Because my ego ain't SO inflated...
that i can't take the idea. That, in my not-so-humble opinion, is the biggest issue people have with God. HOW can i agree that there is someone out there who's so much better than me that if i live for a thousand years, or more, i'll still just be a tiny, infinitesimal point in front of His almighty hugeness? NO chance! I'd much rather bury my head in the sand and spend my life denying that i ain't the best thing in the world. I control everything! Yeah, i ain't a big fan of the whole "You build your own destiny" thing either. There are, and will always be, uncontrollable elements in your life. Loads and loads of them. Of course, no one says that you stop trying to make your life better than it is and blame it all on Fate...but if it ain't there for you, you ain't gonna get it. However much you struggle. All the facts are right there in front of you, dude! Just look at 'em.
3. 'Cuz the Holy Books say so.
No, the idea ain't as absurd as it looks at first. What many non-believers say about the great religions is that they were just invented by some really smart ancestors so that people would live their lives well, and being afraid of an after-life and a greater power and so on, would be more afraid to commit crimes and be anti-social. Also, as an added bonus, the mythical ancestor would get a free fan-following, people listening to whatever he said, and loads of cash [or kind, depending on the time-span] for doing nothing but sitting around blessing people. And, maybe, it would generate employment in the future, what with all the people needed for building temples and all the priests, etc. All fine, but i see two holes in this theory. First, the scale of what some of these Books say is so vast [for example, the Hindu culture lists 330,000,000 SUB-Gods alone, and yeah, they all have a name and function. Would YOU sit around making something like that up just for those motivations?] that it is really tough to imagine anyone who had the brains, the patience, and the TIME for writing all that as human anyways. A person that smart? And getting power at that scale, with people doing whatever you told them to, it would take someone of such pure spirit not to go crazy with the power that he really would deserve to be called a God. [Evidence that their power didn't drive them mad? Read some of those Books!]
And second, if there was such a person, who was so sweet and kind and compassionate that he thought about all the future generations till the end of the world-why would he lie about what he was saying? Maybe, just maybe, honesty was another of his long list of qualities? Think about it...
4. 'Cuz atheism, or even agnosticism, is a REALLY lame excuse...
for running away from what you KNOW you're doing. A flimsy, lace curtain you hide behind, because you realize completely, that if all, or even ANY, of the religionists are right, you are majorly screwed after you die. Because hell, in none of the religions, is an attractive place, and heaven, in all of them, is definitely not where YOU are heading! Because you don't want to learn any kind of control over yourself, want to do everything that is morally discouraged in life, want to break every rule in the Book, and then want to believe you won't even be punished for it. But, trust me, you're screwed anyway. Try telling an angry patrolman on the streets that you don't believe driving drunk is illegal and just see what you get. So, cuz there ain't any running away from THIS court of law, you're much better off finding out, and following, the rules don't you think? And even if it ain't true at all about the afterlife, all you're really losing from staying away from alcohol, drugs, tobacco and crime is a huge load on your conscience, a screwed up liver, and every kind of cancer you can think of. And some that you can't. And if, by chance, it is, and you insist on doing things they say you shouldn't... Make sense to you? Sure did to me
That is mostly it. I ain't saying you should become a Vaishnav [like me], or a Christian, or a Muslim. Not yet, anyways! That is entirely your pick. After all, you never know which one might be right! [Actually, they all are, but that's another long story for later...] So i ain't some religious fanatic just waiting to get up and riot all because you call God something different...or don't believe in Him at all...nope. I'm just stating my opinion...and hoping it gets YOU thinking...please comment.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
His private prison
He stood in the dark room, wondering what he was doing there. Everything was extra clear to him, like he was living in technicolour. Even the dank, cracked grey walls seemed to glow with enhanced clarity...every scratch, every weird brown spot more well-defined than it was supposed to be, somehow. He turned towards the door and walked towards it, suddenly wanting out of there. As he walked, the walls of the room seemed to be pressing down upon him...the need to get out, Out, OUT growing with every step...he began to walk faster, jog, sprint...the door seemed only to be getting further and further away...somehow he couldn't make himself move...his muscles disobeying him, weighing him down! Frustration filled him, rising higher and higher in his chest...suddenly unbearable...he had to let IT out SOMEHOW...opened his mouth and screamed again and again, fear and rage combining in rising volumes...still running as hard as he could...suddenly he was there! At last....relief flooded through him as he reached for the dirty, rusted door knob, and...it wouldn't turn! LOCKED! "NOOOOO!!!" His desperation ripped out of him in torn, anguished sound...something was gonna happen, he knew it, something BAD! Screaming again and again, he pounded on the door...finally giving up and sliding to the bottom, frustration trickling away into despair...lying just like that, face down, in the dirt and dust on the floor...and then, through the clouded mist around his consciousness, he heard it. A soft, whispered step on the floor behind him. RIGHT behind him! Panic rose again in an unbearable wave, scrabbling up from the floor as fast as he possibly could, whipping around while curling into a defensive crouch, teeth bared in preparation for a desperate struggle, eyes wide as they could be, he saw - her. His tiny, fragile, achingly beautiful daughter...beautiful black ringlets of hair framing her almost too-white, doll-like face...wide, baby-blue eyes staring up at him, confused, afraid..."Father?" She said in a small, fearful voice. "Is everything all right?" Realizing how he must be looking to her, he quickly stood back up, all fear and pain forgotten, love gently flooding his heart...his chapped, dry lips breaking into a beatific smile as he rushed towards her and scooped her in his arms..."Of course it is, baby. Of course it is..."
"Whoa!" James shot up from where he had been dozing in his chair as, once again, the screams echoed from the building. "God! I nearly jumped outta my skin! Is it always this bad?" "Yeah...you'll get used to it," the older, more experienced security guard said coolly. "After all, what else can you expect from a crazy house, huh?" "Whatever, maan...it's either that, or pretty soon it'll be me in there screaming my head off with the rest of 'em!" They laughed together, the sound somehow out of sync with the oppressive atmosphere as, inside somewhere, the screams started all over again...
He held her close, burying his face in her neck, inhaling deeply her scent of lilac and daisies..."I love you, baby...don't ever, EVER leave me again...look what happened to daddy when you weren't around...promise me you'll never go anywhere without daddy again...promise?" "Of course, daddy!" she said...her voice the most beautiful music he had ever heard. "I love you, too!" The words hit him hard...ecstasy bursting in his chest as the dank, dark cell around him seemed to vanish, bright spring sunshine bursting in, blinding him....angrily he widened his eyes...he didn't want to miss even one second of looking upon this beautiful, tiny Goddess! Without warning the darkness rose again, threatening to destroy him entirely, he could feel the screams clawing upwards towards his throat....his heart began to thud, fear gripping him again...and then he could see again. His daughter looking at him...so loving...a worried frown creasing her brow..."What is it father?" He smiled then, the awe filling him again as he looked upon her in the light...every aspect of that amazing face shining out at him with such clarity...he could barely absorb it all...in pure ecstatic bliss he laughed out loud, free....so free!
"Dude! This just keeps getting freakier!" James was visibly shaken by the manic laughter that resounded through the hallways now. "Yeah, that's a new one...it's the new guy." The other guard, too, didn't look so nonchalant anymore. "Been like this every single night since he was brought here. Almost two weeks now and I'm still SO not used to it! Oh and by the way, we might have to go quieten him down if he stays this way, OK? Yeah. And trust me, that is NOT fun at all. Jabbing needles into screaming, thrashing men isn't anyone's idea of a fun night activity! Why d'you think the other guy quit?" "Oh maan....no kidding!" was the tortured response. "God help me...new guy? Oh yeah, i read something about that one in the paper...his daughter died or something right? Is that what sent him off his rocker?"
He held her at arm's length, filling his eyes with that unbelievable vision...afraid to blink, almost...his eyes filling with tears...blocking his vision! Angrily he wiped them away...and looked back at-Nothing! The blank walls of the room stared back at him, each crack, each scratch an evil, triumphant smile...celebrating his loss...and then suddenly something caught his eye. A flash of something bright...in the darkest corner, a prostrate figure...he ran there, his legs still strangely leaden, and looked down expectantly...and then he was blank. Frozen for one long, infinite moment...before, without really absorbing it, he felt his face crumple into depair...his legs giving out...sinking down next to her...his daughter...except that there was no trace of her in the lifeless, cold eyes staring back at him. The anguish filled him all over again...tears ran down his eyes...feeling every open wound in her defiled, destroyed body lacerate HIM...physical pain combining with the torture he was already feeling. Howling like a mad dog all over again, he crashed to the floor, banging himself against the walls....ripping at his clothes...his hair...
"Alright, I think that's our cue," the guard said and stood up. "Let's go." James took a deep, shaky breath. "K...but dude, this is something i SO don't wanna do!" He sighed and got up, and they began walking towards the dark building, the menace almost physically tangible to him. To get his mind of it, he spoke. "Anyways, dude, you didn't tell me-what's his story?" The other guard gave him a strange look. "You really wanna know? Trust me, ignorance IS bliss." "Come on dude...it can't be all THAT bad!" James said, an unsure half-smile on his face."Nope, it ain't. It's worse. Don't tell me I didn't warn you! Yeah, his daughter did die...but that isn't what drove him up the wall. He was pretty much a goner since quite sometime before that! Schizophrenia. Horrible. You know how his daughter died? She was killed. HE killed her. 'Multiple knife wounds'...wife had left him long before that...they didn't even realize it 'til like a week later...found him lying right next to her, both of 'em covered in blood...I have a friend in the Force was telling me about it...like a scene straight from hell, he said. Happy now? Let's go." "Dude! What in hell have I gotten myself into? I really have a bad feeling about this..." James muttered as he reluctantly followed his new colleague into the forbidding interiors of the asylum...
He lay all alone, in his own private prison...his daughter still next to him, right there...even in waking, she never left...everything gone. All alone...all alone...that was all that he was aware of now. All alone in his misery. Nothing, NOTHING to alleviate his loneliness. They would be here soon, he knew...with their needles...at least they gave him some temporary peace. He waited...and then, like a bolt from the blue, it struck him. It was THEM! THEY had killed his daughter...and now they were out to get him! His enemies had finally caught up with him! And then suddenly all fear was gone. If death was coming for him, he would welcome it. He had nothing left to live for, anyway. But he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of winning. No! He smiled suddenly as he came to a decision. This time, THEY would die screaming. And then he would, too, but like a man. By his own hand. But first, THEY would pay for his daughter's death. He heard the steps outside his door, muted voices approaching cautiously...he stood up. His hands would be enough at first. And then...whatever they carried. He smiled again, baring his teeth in a vicious, animal show of aggression, letting the demons take possession of him. This time, no one would walk away. THIS time....
"Maan, you sure about this? It's awful quiet now...let's just go back?" James asked hopefully as they approached the door. "Nah kid. Relax. He usually quiets down towards the end...a quick in and out. No worries!" Grinning confidently, he slid the key into the lock and swung the door open...
"Whoa!" James shot up from where he had been dozing in his chair as, once again, the screams echoed from the building. "God! I nearly jumped outta my skin! Is it always this bad?" "Yeah...you'll get used to it," the older, more experienced security guard said coolly. "After all, what else can you expect from a crazy house, huh?" "Whatever, maan...it's either that, or pretty soon it'll be me in there screaming my head off with the rest of 'em!" They laughed together, the sound somehow out of sync with the oppressive atmosphere as, inside somewhere, the screams started all over again...
He held her close, burying his face in her neck, inhaling deeply her scent of lilac and daisies..."I love you, baby...don't ever, EVER leave me again...look what happened to daddy when you weren't around...promise me you'll never go anywhere without daddy again...promise?" "Of course, daddy!" she said...her voice the most beautiful music he had ever heard. "I love you, too!" The words hit him hard...ecstasy bursting in his chest as the dank, dark cell around him seemed to vanish, bright spring sunshine bursting in, blinding him....angrily he widened his eyes...he didn't want to miss even one second of looking upon this beautiful, tiny Goddess! Without warning the darkness rose again, threatening to destroy him entirely, he could feel the screams clawing upwards towards his throat....his heart began to thud, fear gripping him again...and then he could see again. His daughter looking at him...so loving...a worried frown creasing her brow..."What is it father?" He smiled then, the awe filling him again as he looked upon her in the light...every aspect of that amazing face shining out at him with such clarity...he could barely absorb it all...in pure ecstatic bliss he laughed out loud, free....so free!
"Dude! This just keeps getting freakier!" James was visibly shaken by the manic laughter that resounded through the hallways now. "Yeah, that's a new one...it's the new guy." The other guard, too, didn't look so nonchalant anymore. "Been like this every single night since he was brought here. Almost two weeks now and I'm still SO not used to it! Oh and by the way, we might have to go quieten him down if he stays this way, OK? Yeah. And trust me, that is NOT fun at all. Jabbing needles into screaming, thrashing men isn't anyone's idea of a fun night activity! Why d'you think the other guy quit?" "Oh maan....no kidding!" was the tortured response. "God help me...new guy? Oh yeah, i read something about that one in the paper...his daughter died or something right? Is that what sent him off his rocker?"
He held her at arm's length, filling his eyes with that unbelievable vision...afraid to blink, almost...his eyes filling with tears...blocking his vision! Angrily he wiped them away...and looked back at-Nothing! The blank walls of the room stared back at him, each crack, each scratch an evil, triumphant smile...celebrating his loss...and then suddenly something caught his eye. A flash of something bright...in the darkest corner, a prostrate figure...he ran there, his legs still strangely leaden, and looked down expectantly...and then he was blank. Frozen for one long, infinite moment...before, without really absorbing it, he felt his face crumple into depair...his legs giving out...sinking down next to her...his daughter...except that there was no trace of her in the lifeless, cold eyes staring back at him. The anguish filled him all over again...tears ran down his eyes...feeling every open wound in her defiled, destroyed body lacerate HIM...physical pain combining with the torture he was already feeling. Howling like a mad dog all over again, he crashed to the floor, banging himself against the walls....ripping at his clothes...his hair...
"Alright, I think that's our cue," the guard said and stood up. "Let's go." James took a deep, shaky breath. "K...but dude, this is something i SO don't wanna do!" He sighed and got up, and they began walking towards the dark building, the menace almost physically tangible to him. To get his mind of it, he spoke. "Anyways, dude, you didn't tell me-what's his story?" The other guard gave him a strange look. "You really wanna know? Trust me, ignorance IS bliss." "Come on dude...it can't be all THAT bad!" James said, an unsure half-smile on his face."Nope, it ain't. It's worse. Don't tell me I didn't warn you! Yeah, his daughter did die...but that isn't what drove him up the wall. He was pretty much a goner since quite sometime before that! Schizophrenia. Horrible. You know how his daughter died? She was killed. HE killed her. 'Multiple knife wounds'...wife had left him long before that...they didn't even realize it 'til like a week later...found him lying right next to her, both of 'em covered in blood...I have a friend in the Force was telling me about it...like a scene straight from hell, he said. Happy now? Let's go." "Dude! What in hell have I gotten myself into? I really have a bad feeling about this..." James muttered as he reluctantly followed his new colleague into the forbidding interiors of the asylum...
He lay all alone, in his own private prison...his daughter still next to him, right there...even in waking, she never left...everything gone. All alone...all alone...that was all that he was aware of now. All alone in his misery. Nothing, NOTHING to alleviate his loneliness. They would be here soon, he knew...with their needles...at least they gave him some temporary peace. He waited...and then, like a bolt from the blue, it struck him. It was THEM! THEY had killed his daughter...and now they were out to get him! His enemies had finally caught up with him! And then suddenly all fear was gone. If death was coming for him, he would welcome it. He had nothing left to live for, anyway. But he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of winning. No! He smiled suddenly as he came to a decision. This time, THEY would die screaming. And then he would, too, but like a man. By his own hand. But first, THEY would pay for his daughter's death. He heard the steps outside his door, muted voices approaching cautiously...he stood up. His hands would be enough at first. And then...whatever they carried. He smiled again, baring his teeth in a vicious, animal show of aggression, letting the demons take possession of him. This time, no one would walk away. THIS time....
"Maan, you sure about this? It's awful quiet now...let's just go back?" James asked hopefully as they approached the door. "Nah kid. Relax. He usually quiets down towards the end...a quick in and out. No worries!" Grinning confidently, he slid the key into the lock and swung the door open...
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
That strange impulse...
You felt it? That weird, no-real-thought-behind-it nerve signal that motors you, invariably, into something that you regret later? Something you say, with this evil kinda rush of sadistic satisfaction as you realize, in your rage, that you've really crossed the line with this one...that THIS one is really gonna hurt? Or the same evil, animal rush as you literally cross the line and commit an act you don't really mean to, physically ripping through that barrier of 'civilization' that we humans have built around ourselves over the ages...letting savage instinct take over? Or it might not be anger...just something that you end up, without knowing how, doing...and then thinking about all the reasons why you REALLY shouldn't have later, when its way too late? I have...how many ever times too many! Hand of fate? Plain human stupidity? Or is it just me and the voices in my head? [Sigh...!]
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Wassup?
Hey...this, pretty obviously, is my useless first blog, the classic 'Intro' that people write when they can't think of anything else to! So, while i won't enumerate on the various reasons why i have been wanting to blog since, like, forever...or even on THOSE particular reasons why i took so long to get around to it...i can tell you this-all you'll get from reading this blog is that the author is an irreverant, highly opinionated teen with no respect for anything [including the loving, respectful, so-called 'Blogger's Community' around here], someone who thinks about the weirdest things in the world. So ceeya later guyz...gotta go...i'll leave those of y'all who got suckered into reading 'til here to curse yourselves for the abyssmal waste of time...[Actually-dont go kicking yourselves TOO much about it...not really your fault...what with the fancy name and everything? He he!]
PS: For those of you wondering, yeah. Even this post is earth-shattering. Of course, no one expects you to understand how! :-P [That is a targetted comment...don't take it seriously alrite? Of course...not that it isn't true or anything, but we wouldn't want to hurt anyone's sentiments, now would we? Even disrespectful ruffians do try not to be immodest!]
PS: For those of you wondering, yeah. Even this post is earth-shattering. Of course, no one expects you to understand how! :-P [That is a targetted comment...don't take it seriously alrite? Of course...not that it isn't true or anything, but we wouldn't want to hurt anyone's sentiments, now would we? Even disrespectful ruffians do try not to be immodest!]
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)