“Directions please?”
“Go straight and take a second left, after 50 steps take another left, walk until the end of road and sit there for one year, seven months, twenty six days, three hours, forty eight minutes and three seconds.”
“That precise?”
“Yeah, that precise.”
“Thank you very much.”
“Ohh.. that is 50 Rs.”
“Thank you?”
“No. The reason for ‘Thank you’.”
“But, I thanked you already.”
“Now pay for the reason.”
“I paid by saying thank you.”
“No. You acknowledged the price by saying thank you.
“I don’t wish to pay.”
“As you wish.”
“What?”
“As you wish. I can’t force you against your wish.”
“Great! So there is some sanity left in the world! Thank you!”
“Now that’s priceless but as you have already claimed it by force, as per your wish, although use of force is forbidden at this place, I will settle for 500 Rs.”
“500 Rs. for what?”
“Sanity. For which just a while ago you thanked.”
“Good god! I had thanked the heavens but seem I was too hurried in judging the situation. There is not a single speck of sanity in you.”
“If you expect sanity from me, then why is hell you thanked heavens for it?”
“What?”
“500 Rs. and end of the matter.”
“Go to hell.”
“You can’t force me to anything.”
“Enough of this rubbish. I am leaving.”
“As you wish.”
“What were the directions? Can you tell me again?”
“Why not? I am here to help! Go straight and take a second left, after 50 steps take another left, walk until the end of road and sit there for one year, seven months, twenty six days, three hours, forty eight minutes and three seconds.”
“I won’t say thank you this time. But you ought to know this that I am not devoid of courtesy. How can I do that?”
“It’s so simple. Just say, thank you.”
“I did that a while ago and you were not satisfied.”
“What is your area of interest? Showing courtesy of bringing satisfaction to the every situation?”
“I guess, as an individual its first. But as a human, I have to try for second.”
“What are you? Individual or human?”
“Both.”
“I suspect that!”
“What?”
“I suspect that.”
“Why?”
“Seems that your area of interest has just increased! What are you now?
“Same one as before. I am getting late. I am pretty intrigued by our this little conversation but I got to go. Sorry.”
“I don’t charge for any repentance. You can go.”
It’s been one year, seven months, twenty six days, three hours, forty eight minutes and three seconds. Since I walked straight, took a second left, after 50 steps took another left, walked until the end of road and sat there.
And I wish I had paid for the reasons…
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Glory days ahead!
Glory days ahead!
And they will always remain ahead. That’s the truth. That’s the fact and that’s the tragedy…
Everyone’s got some really fine memories. Memories which could be described as the golden moments… how many of them were golden when fresh?
What is gold but a sepia tinge of time smoothening out the odd imperfections of every moment as the time passes?
And what is time?
What is life?
What is to be alive?
I have lost the sense of being live human being. From where I see myself, I am just a memory making machine. All the thoughts and feelings are the incident rays which will develope in memories. Buy some, sell some, eat some, chew some, love some, hate some, live some, observe some.
It’s always a past and its always dead. Does it smell?
Queen says, “No.”
Afterall she can afford the perfume that I can’t. She lives in the palace. I live in the republic. She can sentence me and I can only borrow the sentence. She has lost all the memories. She lives in the present. She is cold and she is brutal. There is no future to her either for she can never make predictions based on prior memories.
All these fools around me, admire her and say, it’s because she has lost her memories.
Huh… it isn’t for nothing that I call them fool…
I know, its because of that perfume.
It is sickening than dead memories…
And they will always remain ahead. That’s the truth. That’s the fact and that’s the tragedy…
Everyone’s got some really fine memories. Memories which could be described as the golden moments… how many of them were golden when fresh?
What is gold but a sepia tinge of time smoothening out the odd imperfections of every moment as the time passes?
And what is time?
What is life?
What is to be alive?
I have lost the sense of being live human being. From where I see myself, I am just a memory making machine. All the thoughts and feelings are the incident rays which will develope in memories. Buy some, sell some, eat some, chew some, love some, hate some, live some, observe some.
It’s always a past and its always dead. Does it smell?
Queen says, “No.”
Afterall she can afford the perfume that I can’t. She lives in the palace. I live in the republic. She can sentence me and I can only borrow the sentence. She has lost all the memories. She lives in the present. She is cold and she is brutal. There is no future to her either for she can never make predictions based on prior memories.
All these fools around me, admire her and say, it’s because she has lost her memories.
Huh… it isn’t for nothing that I call them fool…
I know, its because of that perfume.
It is sickening than dead memories…
Friday, November 19, 2010
My limitations...
My limitation is 512 syllables.
Most of them will be dots...
These dots hide everything that is to be shared...
Like the underware hiding the last essentials from the shame of nakedness...
Huh...
Naked is the truth... Uncomfortable in the great gatherings of survivers... Puzzled and little guilty of being there and playing with innocent's conscience...
Are you aware of this irony that, only innocent's have conscience worth disturbing them?
I don't know...
Conscience is a luxury I can't afford...
Huh...
Most of them will be dots...
These dots hide everything that is to be shared...
Like the underware hiding the last essentials from the shame of nakedness...
Huh...
Naked is the truth... Uncomfortable in the great gatherings of survivers... Puzzled and little guilty of being there and playing with innocent's conscience...
Are you aware of this irony that, only innocent's have conscience worth disturbing them?
I don't know...
Conscience is a luxury I can't afford...
Huh...
Knowing the small difference...
I wrote those wise man's dreams. Now I am rather ashamed of doing it.
Why would someone do that? Forget someone but why did I do it?
Rambling is important. It is about all the freedom that exists in this great republic.
They say, things would be different once the peace is found.
Although I doubt it, nevertheless I am waiting for it eagerly.
This wait is like standing on the bridge, watching the water flow.
I am sailing or maybe selling the wise man's dreams...
That difference makes me know everything...
Why would someone do that? Forget someone but why did I do it?
Rambling is important. It is about all the freedom that exists in this great republic.
They say, things would be different once the peace is found.
Although I doubt it, nevertheless I am waiting for it eagerly.
This wait is like standing on the bridge, watching the water flow.
I am sailing or maybe selling the wise man's dreams...
That difference makes me know everything...
Wise man and his dreams...
We just need to know the difference. As we can only understand through the difference.
Like the wise man in the ancient time, who was way ahead of his time as if a futuristic prototype of wise man after 17 centuries later than his (or was it 18? Maybe less… one century? Half a century later? Who knows? There are only speculations) searched for a wise woman… (1)...
His search result had to be wise. For only wise female can understand the predicament of wise male trapped in his own web of reasons and reasons to understand those valuable reasons. I like to play with words. There is a lot of comfort in repetition of same word again and again. Like its hammering my pea sized brain and making it flat. Hence increasing the size. I am wiser than before that way. From a pea sized brain to flat paper-thin brain spread over three continents and one large ocean. It’s not an overestimation friend. You will never find more malleable thing than human brain. It has got this immense capacity to expand under intense hammering. Not for nothing that people can believe in everything they come in contact with. Like,
Do you believe in God? “Yes I do. He created me!”
Do you believe in Good? “Yes I do. I am here to serve the good!”
Do you believe in Game? “Yes I do. I am playing it since my birth!”
G: – A syllable as in G-spot. Sex is everywhere. Let’s not forget that.
But it’s only known through having it or not having it. Through the difference.
… (1)… at the end of his search, he found his foolishness.
When the queen (yeah the same sexy queen) read this passage out of the context, she accused me of being sexist. When I refused to decline her accusation (actually I was distracted by her smoothness of skin. It felt smooth to eyes. Causing me to yearn for touch), she pulled out a whip with a cracking sound. The place went cold. Almost moist. Atmosphere blackened. And that whip started to dance like a lightening. Now I was afraid of touch. I closed my eyes and shivered by the anticipation of lightening making a mark on my waiting skin.
What happened next is beyond me. I was waked up by small sparrow having her lunch on the grass outside queen’s palace where wise man found his foolishness.
Don’t tell anyone yet but I am making this news public. No, don’t laugh on the foolishness of last sentence. I am making a secret army for rebelling against the queen. You can join in by killing the queen.
Don’t tell anyone but I am killing the queen.
Don’t tell anyone but I am killing the queen.
Don’t tell anyone but I am killing the queen.
Don’t tell anyone but I am killing the queen.
Don’t tell anyone but I am killing the queen.
Repeat. Hammer. Believe.
Repeat. Hammer. Believe.
Repeat. Hammer. Believe.
Repeat. Hammer. Believe.
Repeat. Hammer. Believe.
Wise man found his foolishness.
Wise man found his foolishness.
Wise man found his foolishness.
Wise man found his foolishness.
Wise man found his foolishness.
Repeat. Hammer. Believe.
Repeat. Hammer. Believe.
Repeat. Hammer. Believe.
Repeat. Hammer. Believe.
Repeat. Hammer. Believe.
And I am tired…
There is no need to repeat it. There is no need to hammer it. There is no need to believe it.
You know it.
When you live the difference.
Like the wise man in the ancient time, who was way ahead of his time as if a futuristic prototype of wise man after 17 centuries later than his (or was it 18? Maybe less… one century? Half a century later? Who knows? There are only speculations) searched for a wise woman… (1)...
His search result had to be wise. For only wise female can understand the predicament of wise male trapped in his own web of reasons and reasons to understand those valuable reasons. I like to play with words. There is a lot of comfort in repetition of same word again and again. Like its hammering my pea sized brain and making it flat. Hence increasing the size. I am wiser than before that way. From a pea sized brain to flat paper-thin brain spread over three continents and one large ocean. It’s not an overestimation friend. You will never find more malleable thing than human brain. It has got this immense capacity to expand under intense hammering. Not for nothing that people can believe in everything they come in contact with. Like,
Do you believe in God? “Yes I do. He created me!”
Do you believe in Good? “Yes I do. I am here to serve the good!”
Do you believe in Game? “Yes I do. I am playing it since my birth!”
G: – A syllable as in G-spot. Sex is everywhere. Let’s not forget that.
But it’s only known through having it or not having it. Through the difference.
… (1)… at the end of his search, he found his foolishness.
When the queen (yeah the same sexy queen) read this passage out of the context, she accused me of being sexist. When I refused to decline her accusation (actually I was distracted by her smoothness of skin. It felt smooth to eyes. Causing me to yearn for touch), she pulled out a whip with a cracking sound. The place went cold. Almost moist. Atmosphere blackened. And that whip started to dance like a lightening. Now I was afraid of touch. I closed my eyes and shivered by the anticipation of lightening making a mark on my waiting skin.
What happened next is beyond me. I was waked up by small sparrow having her lunch on the grass outside queen’s palace where wise man found his foolishness.
Don’t tell anyone yet but I am making this news public. No, don’t laugh on the foolishness of last sentence. I am making a secret army for rebelling against the queen. You can join in by killing the queen.
Don’t tell anyone but I am killing the queen.
Don’t tell anyone but I am killing the queen.
Don’t tell anyone but I am killing the queen.
Don’t tell anyone but I am killing the queen.
Don’t tell anyone but I am killing the queen.
Repeat. Hammer. Believe.
Repeat. Hammer. Believe.
Repeat. Hammer. Believe.
Repeat. Hammer. Believe.
Repeat. Hammer. Believe.
Wise man found his foolishness.
Wise man found his foolishness.
Wise man found his foolishness.
Wise man found his foolishness.
Wise man found his foolishness.
Repeat. Hammer. Believe.
Repeat. Hammer. Believe.
Repeat. Hammer. Believe.
Repeat. Hammer. Believe.
Repeat. Hammer. Believe.
And I am tired…
There is no need to repeat it. There is no need to hammer it. There is no need to believe it.
You know it.
When you live the difference.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Introducing Island of Sanity
Last afternoon, after sleepy morning and before shattering evening, between my 17th and 18th “ohh... shit” of the week, queen’s soldier came to arrest me. As usual I was half asleep in my room of illusions while, my other half was struggling with dour reality. Soldiers knocked on the door of the room. No one heard. They kept knocking. No one moved. Then they used deception. They called mimicking voice of hope and my other half tired of its struggles, eagerly opened the door thinking it may led him to the land of dreams where illusions can be touched and felt and ate and drunk and smoked and #ucked… what a piece of shit! He landed my complete ass in the prison.
It was sad… dirty… cold… I was sad, dirty and cold. Isn’t it astonishing? the way our mood reflects the environment? It becomes more astonishing when it doesn’t. Although that could become part of another post so I will stick to the matters related to last afternoon. Yeah, the room was sad, dirty, cold plus filthy etc. Like any proud citizen of Shengdana Republic of Absurdia I moaned and complained loudly about that horrendous injustice to my tranquil afternoon. Damn! I want to go back to my house. There was no reason for me to be arrested that too at that ungodly hour when other people slave their seconds to make money in different corners and sub corners of this world.
I want JUSTICE! My scream was so fierce that it blew away the gates of prison and in walked ‘sexy queen’. She walked in a way which only suits her and her posterior. We looked in a way which only suits third rate leeches. Hmmhmm… that’s enough…
“Why are you screaming?”
I presented my plea.
“What is wrong with that?”
I tried to explain.
“But we haven’t moved you a bit!”
I tried to understand.
“Can’t you see?”
“Yeah, I can see and that’s why I am screaming. Why in hell you shifted me to prison?”
“You mean, why walls were made visible?”
Interesting!
It was last afternoon. During my another botched attempt to escape on the island of sanity. My escapes mean nothing in the end. For what is there to be escaped from? Does it really make any difference if walls are visible or walls are hidden?
Can I live without a prison?
It was sad… dirty… cold… I was sad, dirty and cold. Isn’t it astonishing? the way our mood reflects the environment? It becomes more astonishing when it doesn’t. Although that could become part of another post so I will stick to the matters related to last afternoon. Yeah, the room was sad, dirty, cold plus filthy etc. Like any proud citizen of Shengdana Republic of Absurdia I moaned and complained loudly about that horrendous injustice to my tranquil afternoon. Damn! I want to go back to my house. There was no reason for me to be arrested that too at that ungodly hour when other people slave their seconds to make money in different corners and sub corners of this world.
I want JUSTICE! My scream was so fierce that it blew away the gates of prison and in walked ‘sexy queen’. She walked in a way which only suits her and her posterior. We looked in a way which only suits third rate leeches. Hmmhmm… that’s enough…
“Why are you screaming?”
I presented my plea.
“What is wrong with that?”
I tried to explain.
“But we haven’t moved you a bit!”
I tried to understand.
“Can’t you see?”
“Yeah, I can see and that’s why I am screaming. Why in hell you shifted me to prison?”
“You mean, why walls were made visible?”
Interesting!
It was last afternoon. During my another botched attempt to escape on the island of sanity. My escapes mean nothing in the end. For what is there to be escaped from? Does it really make any difference if walls are visible or walls are hidden?
Can I live without a prison?
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
half baked ideas
"find something"
comes a voice from very quiet, dead night...
"why not, sure oh sir!" i reply
and i search... how to capitalize my small 'i'? this republic is a fantastic place. we are free to do anything which fancies our mind. more than that, only thing that matters to me is, i am free to do anything that fancies my mind. i want to capitalize my 'i'.
"wake up"
comes a voice from very quiet, dead night...
"ohh yeah, i am awake and conscious as the dazzling sky... can you see it breath? those stars twinkling with each breath of it? and its murmering something in my ear... i listen hard and embrace it closer, take my ears right into its shivering lips... i can hear, through my ear, listen oh dear, let me be asleep here... lullaby..."
my land is free. for everyone to explore. everyone to live. everyone to die. stop those voices... there is a difference between land and me.
"what is it?"
comes a voice from very quiet, dead night...
who is there to answer? i don't know... how could i? and why should i?
only because those questions come from some unknown source, they become more important than my questions?
hmm...
the night it very quiet. the night is dead. there is a chaos hidden in calmness. only i can listen. because i want to listen. and then i may chose to be dead. will the night listen to me then? hmm... naughty thoughts! ain't they? [:D]
comes a voice from very quiet, dead night...
"why not, sure oh sir!" i reply
and i search... how to capitalize my small 'i'? this republic is a fantastic place. we are free to do anything which fancies our mind. more than that, only thing that matters to me is, i am free to do anything that fancies my mind. i want to capitalize my 'i'.
"wake up"
comes a voice from very quiet, dead night...
"ohh yeah, i am awake and conscious as the dazzling sky... can you see it breath? those stars twinkling with each breath of it? and its murmering something in my ear... i listen hard and embrace it closer, take my ears right into its shivering lips... i can hear, through my ear, listen oh dear, let me be asleep here... lullaby..."
my land is free. for everyone to explore. everyone to live. everyone to die. stop those voices... there is a difference between land and me.
"what is it?"
comes a voice from very quiet, dead night...
who is there to answer? i don't know... how could i? and why should i?
only because those questions come from some unknown source, they become more important than my questions?
hmm...
the night it very quiet. the night is dead. there is a chaos hidden in calmness. only i can listen. because i want to listen. and then i may chose to be dead. will the night listen to me then? hmm... naughty thoughts! ain't they? [:D]
Sunday, August 22, 2010
First Rule of Absurdia
Language is a tool. Or so they say. They include great scholars of living and equally great mourners of dead. They might be mutually exclusive but there is no reason for this might be to be true and they being the same, simply two sides of coin or even two colors mixed together making them something new, grand, alien, supernaturally human or ungodly deities. Whatever… we all are absolutely equal from basic constituents of our body parts to uniquely diversified needs of ultimate death.
Some bozo’s sitting at the top of caved in mountains (strictly speaking, they sit right next to beggars of pot holed pavements. But beggars got dignity of leaving all their self behind and begging. Bozo’s beg, hiding in undergarments of their 2 year old children), scratched their heads at above observation of equality and like they usually do whenever required to use brains came to conclusion by the game of loudest voice wins. Winner proposed one rule.
The first rule of Absurdia:
“All shengdanas were born equal and would die an equal death.”
This way shengdanas of this great republic don’t really matter but some obscure quantity, a number thrown at each other. E.g. yearly production of Shengdana is xyz 000 metric ton.
I wonder, how this many shengdanas stand still till they are weighed and used for such dirty purpose?
Saturday, August 21, 2010
The reason behind reasoning.
I thought about writing the Annals of Shengdana Republic of Absurdia. But dates are always confusing and no matter how hard one can try tend to repeat themselves so I settled on incomprehensible ramblings.
I dreamt of a dream in which I was dreaming about the valley in the far, remote corner of this wide spread republic. The valley was piercing the eyes with loud screams of greenery. The shapes of mountains wrecked havoc in the ears with echoes of my breath. It was unbelievably beautiful.
I woke up from the dream of a dream in which I dreamt about the valley. I never bothered to search that place. Cause nothing remains unbelievable in this Shengdana Republic of Absurdia. I am sure, some concrete born, geometrically dumb structure must have replaced all the greeneries and there are already too many pot holes in my road to the cinema hall, waiting for the remaining mountains to cave in them.
In a way, I would write annals. And pass it on as rambling. Even I haven’t learned to differentiate between their meanings.
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