On Kamala Das, Madhavikutty and Suraiah

My heart is wrung with iron claws which speak of a hellish cold, I can’t breathe, I can’t move, I can’t think.

Oh what am I to do? The one soul I yearned to know has departed from the earth.

What should I call you, you dreamer of heavens, you chronicler of woes intemperate, you lover par excellence of humanity. Should I call you Suraiah, Madavikkutty, or Kamala Das?

Oh what does it matter now?

I never got to meet you, but did I know of any one more close to my heart?

I dreamed of being near you, sitting at your feet, looking at that beautiful and serene face, those dark and wonderful eyes….

Hearing that soft and childish voice speaking of the most inane of things,

And saying ‘yes mother’ whenever there was a pause.

I didn’t ever come did I? Even criminals came and sat at your feet. You touched them with your heart and fingers; they were like lambs before you.

You said:

I don’t think these boys raped and murdered any one, how could they do that, when I touch them it’s like I am touching my own children. They are so helpless.

How could you know anything about the world, you sweet dear, and how could you not know?

Oh how beautiful you really were.

But you thought you were not beautiful didn’t you, you silliest of all beings? You thought yourself dark and ungainly once, didn’t you, you timeless romantic?

Was there anyone more beautiful than you? Was there any being more charming than you?

You were perfect. No woman can be more beautiful than you.

Yours was a beauty otherworldly, yours was a beauty of soul, thou visitor of the heaven worlds.

What did they tell you when you went to those places in your dream states?

Did they chide you, did they make you cry, and did they call you graceless?

They wouldn’t have dared, not with me as your son.

Now when you go, go past them, go into the realm of love and peace that you couldn’t find here.

Go past HER that is eternal to HIM that is unbounded love. I know you were with him till that curious childishness took over you and brought you here.

You searched among our stupid systems to find true love, didn’t you? Oh dear, why did you not look inside, but you could not do that, could you, you were the nature itself.

How I riled against you for being inconstant in your choices, but nature can’t be constant can it?

Oh, thou eternal child, why did you come to visit us, we did not deserve your beauty, kindness and genius. We live here by cutting each other’s throats, raping each other’s mentally and physically, not thinking of love, not learning of love, thou lover infinite, why did you deign to be called human and to live amongst us,

You could make a tin drum sing like a lark, you could weave a web of mystery with the most prosaic of words. At your single touch words stood up and spoke in tones that we hear only in rarest of dreams.

You were Nonpareil, Undisputed……..

You were the real mistress of art. You could write like a goddess and then say,

I am a poor woman and I am living off my paintings now.

How it made me smile and to hear you say so…..

Only you could say it with candor that:

Aren’t we all liars, all that we write is a lie. The more beautiful the lies are, the more delighted we become.

You wondered: Why are these children so timid? Imagine you are writing the best literature ever, and it will be so. You know, I read pulp magazines, the serial stories they write, oh how beautifully they use words!

You divine enchantress, you mother literature, would there be any authority higher than you to say it.

Oh the beautiful lies that you wrote! There was never such as you in my language, even the greatest acknowledge that, yet none gave you any accolades. We are a heartless bunch; we don’t ever give credit to where it is due.

May be you felt it too at the end, maybe it was very tangible, maybe that’s why you left us.

In fright we ran to you and begged you:

Please don’t desert us; we love you, every one of us.

You told us that you would be back. Yes you are back now, in a shroud and in the chillness of death, you are back, in our midst, in our memories about the few words that you ever wrote, may be you would stay now forever,

And bless this most miserable of all people.

A badly crafted and wicked ghost story

(No old men including myself were hurt during the writing of the story.)

Disclaimer: Graphical events are described in the story. Hence reader discretion is advised. The author is not responsible for any untoward incidents which may arise out of its perusal. Old men, people with heart conditions, carrying women and children below 18 are advised to read it at their own discretion.


He must have been about eighty five and was still strong as an ox. Traces of his youth and beauty still remained with him. Some would call him handsome even at this age. His skin had not lost any of the freshness and glow of youth. He had all his teeth intact and they were still strong and white. May be he had become a little grey over the temples but even those stray hairs looked strong and wiry. He had been comfortable with his wife and had never bothered about love. Love? It’s a fancy word used by idiots who can’t get it up without a touch of imagination.

He had never used aphrodisiacs; everything was at his beck and call. His wife had loved him like a god without getting anything in return for a long time. She had grown old and wan in his service. He was very demanding and brutal in that regard. Of course they had little sex any more. But he was not bothered. There were house girls for fun and there was the technique of self-love if everything else failed.


He never had any qualms in indulging in it from the beginning itself. It made him calm and serene. It expelled the violence in him. There was a time when he used to do it a dozen times a day and that too late into his fifties. Now he doesn’t do it more than twice a day, while taking a bath in the morning and the evening. It was more like a medical examination, more to check his virility than anything else.

With all his great looks and physical strength girls were unfortunately short in supply for him. Somehow they sensed the total lack of sentiment in the man. He was completely at sea about it. He was also strangely unmindful of his personal beauty. If it came in handy good, if it did not well he was little bothered. Yet one could not rely on self-love every time, it’s not like the real thing. He resorted to devious methods to catch his prey. He had to work hard at it but he also had some success. Sometimes a little greasing of the palms of someone would make it easy.

On this day he was in the bath and had began the regular work-out without a care in the mind. He never needed any detailed visualization to do the thing. He had only to think of women in general and he would be alive and kicking. Not this time. It was as if the ship had anchored in the deepest of seas and the anchor got stuck somewhere down there. He could experience a deep hollow within his abdomen. It was a chasm he had never experienced in life.

He panicked. He could never remember an occasion where the thing had failed him.
He got hot and cold in the head. He had just got hold of a girl for household chores after the old one had left not being able to cope up. This girl was like honey. He had planned on beginning the assault that day.

Cursing everything including the god he jumped out of the bath.

He almost smashed into the new girl at the door. She was not watching him through any slits was she? The… the …..

He shouted at her:

Did you clean the cow shed, you no good?

The girl laughed and ran off exclaiming

What’s wrong with him all of a sudden!

He had to do something about it. His heart sank at the indignity of approaching a doctor to ask for help. Unlike the rest in his age group he did not consider other options at all. That did not even arise in his mind.

The doctor looked him many times over and asked him.

How old are you?

That‘s none of your business. He retorted angrily.

Grandpa, it is my business. I have to prescribe a stimulant for you. I need to know your age.

He did not mind the Grandpa thing. It has never bothered him. But he was reluctant to admit his age to anyone including himself.

60.

He murmured almost inaudibly.

The doctor sat up and took good hard look at him. He had heard quite clearly, he was used to hearing even murmurs from death beds. But the doctor very well knew that patients rarely told him the correct age. So he normally added ten years to it and arrived at the believable age of the patient. Here is guy who at seventy ………..

And you still want to ………

He saw his patient becoming livid in the face and desisted from further commenting on the propriety of it. He secretly wondered how these old bastards kept up a liking for the thing. He could not at his young age.

The wife hints every now and then.

We don’t go visiting our folks anymore!

He would freeze at that. When translated, it actually meant -we don’t do it often enough my dear man, a change of place might help like last time, who knows!

......Now our folk’s house in the country, it has plenty of space and peace and quiet.-

God how women hide a lot of meaning inside a simple sentence……….

He shuddered involuntarily.

These old guys, they are dynamite.

He put certain questions to make sure that the old lecher was not a heart patient and had no other illnesses which set on suddenly.

He advised as the old guy was leaving.

Be careful with it

Our man went home trumpeting like a whale. It took some trouble to convince the girl of the necessity of being secretive about it. But at last he was able to lure her into an old and empty pool at one end of his estate and was into the mood immediately. The prescription was working wonderfully.

Then something happened of which he had no recollection afterwards. He was suddenly not within his old and trusted body.

He was somewhere else, well not spatially, no; he was still at the old place.

But he could view two of him around now, one was lying on the ground face down and prostrate on top of the girl. That one was strangely not moving. The other one was him now, he had all the old urges in him still. He was still trying to grab the girl and continue with the interrupted effort. But the girl was otherwise occupied and was not minding him in the least. She was trying to throw his other body off her chest and could hardly help screeching in the attempt.

She hastily clamped her hand on her mouth and feverishly sat up gathering her cloths.

The dirty old fucker, she said panting. He doesn’t have sou with him too.

She spat in revulsion and hurriedly slouched off from the place.

His subtle body was still franticly trying to alternatively get back into the old carcass and run after the girl to make her come back…………

He levys at ese that frely levys

People may wonder why I have this fetish with freedom. If I had to answer that I may have to indulge in what some highly intelligent people now call my mystical bullshit.

Why bore them with that once again, so I would try to find something else instead. You may not be satisfied with this explanation all the same. You may find any number of holes in it. Holes are not bad, there are even the black holes they say, where whatever shit happens does not really happen. It eats up the time, the black hole.

Any way I am glad I am not the only one who likes this strange concept, not the black hole eating up time, its likeable, but this other thing called freedom. Look how John Barbour (d. 1395) goes about it.


“A! Fredome is a noble thing!
Fredome mays man to haiff liking;
Fredome all solace to man giffis,
He levys at ese that frely levys!”

Mark how he cutely he hums that last line. “He levys at ese that frely levys!” That is what is important, living at ease, without burdens, without the gnawing doubt that someone has stealthily intruded into your mind and has usurped your very self. Those were the times of comparative ease, oh yes there was the church with it’s strangle hold on the intellect and mind. They were burning nice girls (both young and old) at the stake and drinking up all that Smoky fragrance. Yet slavery had not become a fashion then as it is now.

A person could yet say “ Freedome mays man to haiff liking” and be not black listed and put under surveillance. You say something on the line now; you would have visitors all of a sudden.

“Didn’t we see you at +++ yesterday? What was the name of that man ++++?

Nice, he is good, he is brilliant. We are great admirers.”

Of course there won’t be any man other than in their feverish imagination, and we call these imbeciles normal.

You would be no more alone then onwards, you would be reverently followed everywhere. You have suddenly become a national treasure. What the establishment can’t take is this free spirit in man. Whenever it sees that, it feels threatened like a girl about to be brutally raped. It becomes stupid and raises a great hue and cry.

Liberty is something to be had as Barbour says, a necessary pre-requisite for it is freedom. It’s not of liberalism that he was speaking of, that was totally against freedom, that was limiting freedom to pissing in public and having sex outdoors. To Barbour it was of something innate, something we feel all the time and is a part of our existence.

“Freedome all solace to man giffis” . How can we not agree? There have always been efforts to snub the free spirit of man. That’s what makes Shelly say “I am a devoted enemy to religious, political, and domestic oppression” Shelly was all heart and feeling.

I can only echo his words:

“Shout aloud! Let every slave,
Crouching at Corruption's throne,
Start into a man”
(TO THE REPUBLICANS OF NORTH AMERICA.)

I think it’s stupid to discuss freedom from the stand point of the intellect, intellect cannot live without being entangled, it’s a slave to structure, it can’t get out of its subservience . So Let us discard the intellect and embrace emotions. Why do we feel that we are free internally? Do you think that it’s an aberration, a falsification of the true state of things? Why do the little children do what they like and not what we tell them to do. Where from comes this rebellious spirit.

I believe that this comes from the deepest core of our being. You can be an emergentist and still believe in this. If matter is evolving into higher forms one higher form could be this being that is free in mind, who can spread his mental wings and take off to any place in the universe. You might disprove me with your mathematical tables and complicated thought structures. You might even patronizingly say that, buddy, it’s so, we agree with you, to be done with me.

But this belief of mine is primary; I just can’t live without it. If I have to think that I am a remote controlled thingamabob I had rather end it all and be finished with that slavery once and for all. I can’t be internally controlled. I can’t be mentally manipulated. I assert my mental freedom; I would like to think the vilest thoughts on the greatest of people and the greatest thought on the vilest people in the world. I believe that is my sovereign right.

More about it later….

And would fain shed no more………..

As it fell my lot to be called nonsensical by the intelligent and my musings be termed utter nonsense’s I was readily immersed in gloom and saw a pall of melancholy descend in stealthy haste unto my poor soul. (Let me catch my breath!)

Yet I bade it welcome, being kindly even to the undeserving, saying:

Sad sir, why wouldst thou tarry, strike and smite me down ‘fore you sally.

Alas it seemed loath to do so, marking that me sometime otherwise doth fare,

Was one who had a merry soul and had eaten many a berry while still young,

That he had shed tears enough to drown even the doomsday fire.

And would fain shed no more………..

It grew lighter in my company

And one day left me saying:


“The joys of future years are past,
To-morrow's hopes have fled away;
Still let us love, and e'en at last
We shall be happy yesterday.”

_Punch


And much more besides:


ON THE ROAD

Said Folly to Wisdom,
"Pray, where are we going?"
Said Wisdom to Folly,
"There's no way of knowing."

Said Folly to Wisdom,
"Then what shall we do?"
Said Wisdom to Folly,
"I thought to ask you."

_Tudor Jenks


WILD FLOWERS

"Of what are you afraid, my child?" inquired the kindly teacher.
"Oh, sir! the flowers, they are wild," replied the timid creature.

_Peter Newell



SOME GEESE

Ev-er-y child who has the use
Of his sen-ses knows a goose.
See them un-der-neath the tree
Gath-er round the goose-girl's knee,
While she reads them by the hour
From the works of Scho-pen-hau-er.

How pa-tient-ly the geese at-tend!
But do they re-al-ly com-pre-hend
What Scho-pen-hau-er's driv-ing at?
Oh, not at all; but what of that?
Nei-ther do I; nei-ther does she;
And, for that mat-ter, nor does he.

_Oliver Herford



THE INVISIBLE BRIDGE

I'd Never Dare to Walk across
A Bridge I Could Not See;
For Quite afraid of Falling off,
I fear that I Should Be!

_Gelett Burgess



METAPHYSICS

Why and Wherefore set out one day
To hunt for a wild Negation.
They agreed to meet at a cool retreat
On the Point of Interrogation.

But the night was dark and they missed their mark,
And, driven well-nigh to distraction,
They lost their ways in a murky maze
Of utter abstruse abstraction.

Then they took a boat and were soon afloat
On a sea of Speculation,
But the sea grew rough, and their boat, though tough,
Was split into an Equation.

As they floundered about in the waves of doubt
Rose a fearful Hypothesis,
Who gibbered with glee as they sank in the sea,
And the last they saw was this:

On a rock-bound reef of Unbelief
There sat the wild Negation;
Then they sank once more and were washed ashore
At the Point of Interrogation.

_Oliver Herford

Controlling the techno-dunces

I think I have moved a little away from my main concern, that of helping my electronically harassed friend. Some might have guessed that I too have become involved in the process even if in a different way. All of it had started long before I even started this blog. It had to do with what I said on the shameless corruption in my office.

May be they wanted to control my outbursts; they tried even beaming me with their state of the art technology. They tried their best to make it work alright. The perps are a community the world over and help each other out. The moment they included me in their black list they got the tools to sound me out through their subliminals. Unfortunately I was not a novice in this genre of tricks.

I could easily beam some too if I really want to, though not in the techno-stupid style of the perps. I did not develop it to do this sort of thing. It comes as a natural gift as you bring your will under your control over the years. None of the perps who are around now have been to the places I have been to and back.

I have distaste for this sort of thing, not because I would accrue any bad Karma from it, to me such inanities do not exist; they would not trouble me in the least. Those who talk about Karma know nothing about the real nature of it. Even if they have read or heard it somewhere they would not understand it in the least. Not because they are stupid, but because they would refuse to believe in truth like the Englishman who saw the Giraffe for the first time and declared “I don’t believe it” So I would desist from going into anything of the sort here. Explaining them would not serve any useful purposes at all.

But there is something else in it, controlling others in effect blocks their free spirit from doing whatever they want to do in life. Even the evilest deeds are a sign of growth in a being. Some would not understand this too. It’s intricate and it would take some real reflection to grasp it all. Anyway if you curb this free spirit it takes away their individual freedom to act with their free will. That is worse than death. If they want to be perps let them be perps. I would only be careful not to let them have a free ride inside my brain.

This I do without mercy. When they tried to sound me through subliminals, I cooked up a subliminal sound file myself and played it on them with the woodpecker file I downloaded from Tom Bearden’s site. It seemed like a nice touch at the time. I looped it over many times and recorded the subliminals beneath it just fast enough to be heard and not slow enough to be glaringly obvious.

Of course I wanted them to notice that something of the sort is going on. In certain cases it’s the partially known which frightens the shit out of us rather than the unknown. Unknown is yet unrealized, it can be pushed aside, but not the known, it stays and stares.

Now the woodpecker noise is the most irritating one I have heard in a long while. The duds had to bear it for one thing and had to listen to the subliminals too. Well they had it coming. They started it with their cell phones, I pods and gizmos. I got angry, and I also had access to the records of my friend to form a view on what sort of things that they pump into you.

You know, the one advantage of having a cell phone is this- You can play anything anywhere and there is nothing others can do about it. This subliminal recording of mine had none of the algorithm Smirnov was talking about. It was just a subliminal file you can make with any of the free tools available on the net. It contained no trigger words or trance-inducing-beats at all, no alpha, theta, delta shit. Then why play it you may ask.

Well I had some other tricks up my sleeve and the sound file was just a ruse. As I told you I am no tyro in this ‘influencing others’ business. When one does Pranayama for years on end he acquires the talent to control prana in himself as well as in others. I had practiced intense concentration and meditation for long hours, had studied occultism for I don’t know how long. I did it all to get at the truth. But really there is no truth that way. There is only bondage.

Anyway I know a bit about how the subtle forces in nature actually work and I have enough understanding of them to make some of them work nicely- Pretty dangerous tricks to posses as I shall show you later.

You might want to know what I recorded in those subliminals. Here are some samples. They might look bizarre and cruel, but they were fashioned on those supplied by my affected friend, may be a little stronger, well you need to upstage the culprits. Anything goes in war and love as they say. The detailed versions of the ideas I used is followed by the bracketed ones containing the real version. Ideation is vital in any such business:

“Do you look into the mirror, you corrupt imbecile?”

(Ever look in mirror?”)

“Does shit bought by dirty money taste better?”

(Shit tastes better?)

“Say, what price would fetch your soul?”

(You bloody sell-soul)

“Would you sell your family off to the biggest bidder?

(You rotten pimp)

The list could go on. ideation is needed because when they hear the words their minds should search for their meaning, that’s what makes them hot and cold at the same time, the frantic search for the meaning of the terms. Why is he saying that? Why am I a sell-soul, pimp, shit eater? It’s this confusion that does the trick.

I can get pretty imaginative when I get a mood on. But this alone would not do as you can see. I needed to burn these into their brains and make them jump at them. That needed methods to bye-pass consciousness and its censoring features as those Russians mentioned in the site. I did not have Smirnov’s technology with me. So I had to improvise.

First you need to acquaint them with the words thoroughly to sensitize them to it as the perps themselves do in the case of others. Well I had the cell phone. I asked my friend to call me every now and then and would talk to him loudly interspersing my talk with the words in the subliminal text.

The talk would go like this, giving stress on the subliminal words.

“You don’t say! You actually saw him take the bribe? Does the slimy ass ‘ever look in the mirror’ (You need to tone the phrase up). He did that? Perhaps ‘shit tastes better’ (stronger tone). My god, these guys, they would ‘sell’ (strong tone) even their ‘souls’ (strong tone)”. Every word used in the subliminal text would have to be brought into their attention again and again.

That of course concluded the first part. The perps and those trained by the perps are hardened imbeciles and would be unfazed at such gimmicks. They would laugh it off. But as they say in the parables, a war is not won in a day. I had an action plan. I needed just to get the words across first.

Now begins the second phase. The woodpecker noise continues with subliminals in it and simultaneously I force my will on them taking them up one by one. There are subtle techniques for it and I won’t go into any details here. For one thing they won’t make it any clearer to you, for another even if anyone tries to imitate me it would take years to reach that level of effectiveness. Mental powers do not come easy; you need time, perseverance, hard work and above all luck to get there.

Then there are also checks and balances against acquiring them in the nature itself. They are pre-installed preventive measures to make sure that none would make use of such powers to harm others. Unless you are 100% certain that you are in the right and you know the dangers involved and the techniques to defend and fend of forces against you, you would be torn apart by the giant forces of nature itself. Every force that you make use of would turn on you and you would find yourselves with no place to hide and no one to save you.

I never had the occasion to make use of these before I had the tiff with perps because I had few enemies in life. I usually mind my affairs most of the time and let the others be; I am a little harsh with my tongue and can be quite acidic with words but the anger passes when the moment is past. I used not to hold grudges at all. I had done years of conscious projection of powerful thoughts on the welfare of the world. So I had little reason to act against any one.

Till the perps appeared in the world with their inanimate mechanical tools to destroy people’s minds the world worked pretty well by itself. Evil and good was there. They balanced each other and every one had their share of them. Every deed done was recorded and reciprocated. But the current techno-stupid tools absolve the imbeciles using them completely of the responsibility of their deeds. I was angry that this was happening. I could not sit idle with a philosophy of “God will take care of everything” and see others and I suffer from our stupidity.

These wretches are out to out-wit the god himself. They had to be taught a lesson. The nice thing was that the imbeciles had the backing of every religious organization in the locality. I liked that, I had always known them to be mind control groups who would sacrifice their followers ruthlessly to achieve any petty aims they set upon. It was nice to have them under one roof and pit myself against their guiles and vileness. May be there is something in astrology; I was born under the strong influence of the Mars. I like a fight any time. But it is easier said than done.

There are several hitches when you go on a mental skirmish with others. Unless your mind can work at different levels at the same time nothing will come of it. When your will is forcing itself on the other person, you should also be broadcasting the words mentally with tremendous force so that they would make an indelible impression on the other mind and along with that strong mental images relating to them need be sent. You have also to try to connect these words and images to something that the person is afraid of in life (the trigger element of Smirnov). You need also to make sure that these would remain with them and set upon them on every occasion they falter.

All this requires knowledge and the capability of manipulating forces at different levels, knowledge about human energy fields, primal forces, nerve centers, how different forces would work on different inner vehicles of man, the channels through these things can be sent, nature of obstacles to overcome (inborn as well as installed by magical rites), the features of the mind, the basic nature of the individual and you name it, you have to know it. If your efforts fail at one level you need to go up to other levels and work from them. In some cases you may need to work from within them.

That goes by the name of shifting of consciousness, pretty mighty feat by ordinary standards. Once you start on it you should not fail, if you do you would not be left to talk about it.

Well anyway I got through to them after a little while. They began to feel the heat of the mental turmoil. I would try them out occasionally by mentioning the bare outlines of some subliminal term like, ‘Sh’ and they would go pale. The problem was my control over them was more lasting and serious than theirs on others would ever be.

Even now if I had any thought on any one of them it would lodge in them immediately. They got frightened to the core and started consulting every knave that has ever practiced sorcery in the land. As I have mentioned before, they are at temples and churches the year round, ardent atheists among them have started reciting divine charms to save their “Souls”. The Hindus bring their black magicians, the Moslem’s bring their Mullah’s and the Christians bring their priests and nuns to the office to watch over my “Evil” influence on their poor “blameless” sheep.

As they were the practitioners of such arts they soon realized where the problem lay and stopped their broadcast altogether. I too stopped my tricks on that line on that. The dunderheads never had the guts to start on that path again. Now they try to besmear me by any means they could lay their hands on. They start rumor campaigns, send anonymous letters to all and sundry, sabotage my work, ride the net to prevent me from saying anything on them, file court cases to curtail service benefits etc.

I have received enough threats on life to scare the shit out of any one. The latest one had bikers following me to engage me physically, the main instigator being the driver of the official car. I am pretty free with my tongue as I mentioned earlier. I may have said something to particularly please him that day. He is on daily wages and has nothing to fear about official action. So he shoots off his mouth inside the office though he had no business to be inside it in the first place.

There are a few other daily wage hands too, whom they use to such good effect. The girls among them would watch for an opportunity to create a terrible ruckus in my presence. As I have nothing to do with their work I don’t talk to them directly, it’s too risky in the prevailing circumstances, and as such I wouldn’t look at them even if they had a hundred boobs instead of the normal one (or is it two for person?)

They practice at being rude to me every moment of the day. They have fixed a technique by which the buck is passed to everyone so that I can’t fix on any one in particular. If on this day someone would be rude to me, the next day he/she would be otherwise while someone else would take on the “work’. The poor darlings hit upon the course to evade my ‘invisible’ attacks getting fixed on anyone of them. They fear that it would drive them crazy.

That continues to this day. Today day it’s the guy to whom I once had denied the “Uniform Allowance” who is at the fore front of the attack. (He had changed category and was thus not entitled for the allowance. There was no normal way it could have been done. Yet if I had shut my eye and if the auditors had not noticed it, he might have benefitted from it.) He still holds the grudge and he is chums with the local goons and has threatened to “take care of me” if I get out of hand.

Actually I love every moment of it. Look at the effect I had on them all, I had turned all the imbeciles to the altar of god; I had rekindled spirituality in them. I had joined together people who were at swords and daggers when they see each other. The tumult ended their corruption altogether. Now they work for the ‘common benefit’, not for bribes alone, the poor lambs. The speed at which they now serve the people is unbelievable. They had to run from post to pillar to ‘control’ me so they had to please everyone who came to the office.

The greatest worry they have at present is whether am I (meaning of course, yours truly) working hard enough. Honestly I am not. I am lazing it and is doing the barest minimum allowable work. I had ideals once and had worked like five men but with these fuckers around I feel like kicking very hard at something rather than working hard.

Anyway you need to give the devil his due. They are fast becoming model citizens. I would not wonder if one of them wins the Bharatratna (Highest possible civilian award in this land) in the near future- bless the darlings.

Neutralizing fear

I know it’s not easy to curb subtly planted thoughts from emerging into your conscious, and they may even override your conscious activity as in the case of brainwashed persons. All this could happen. But not everyone is mentally manipulated to become a suicide bomber. Even the perps would not go that far, they wouldn’t want their own asses blown away in the process; you may still have some little time in your hand.

So stall for time, nothing is going to happen to your world all of a sudden. Well if it would have to, it has happened already. So what are you afraid of? The feared shit has already happened; otherwise you would not be in the place that you are now. So take it slow. When you draw back from doing what they suggest they might come out into the open and try to make you do it by overt promptings. That not a very bad thing. It is as if you are forcing their hands.

As I mentioned before too the only two areas you need be careful is the fear of death and the manipulations on your sex instinct. To nullify their effect on yourself you can call those incidents back into your conscious mind. If you are struck mute by the mere suggestion of death (Most people are, despite what they maintain outside.) break out of the habit.

Think on death, all philosophy begins with death. It would soon cure you of the fear of it. Even the greatest fear it, it is congenital. But fear of death at the moment of its actual occurrence and fear of it instilled in you artificially by external agencies are two different things. The later you can combat. You haven’t actually died; you are only being threatened with it.

So you are going to die, what the hell, everybody has to die; your fear is not going to make you less a candidate for death. Say hello to death, let’s be chums with him, you can even converse with him.

He is mortal. Shiva had once killed him too. This shiva is nothing but you true consciousness. It can raise or kill death if it wants to. Nachiketas, a young Indian boy once approached death for guidance. It was given freely to him. There is a whole treatise on the subject. Death is approachable and companionable. He is near us every minute. He is the most nearest of all our kins. So why fear him.

The best example of the conquest of this fear can be seen in Socrates. He was sentenced to die, Plato and others could have easily saved him, but he chose not to escape.

He was a true philosopher. He had conquered his fear by dispassionately thinking on it. I assure you, you need not be a Socrates to do it. Anyone can do it, provided they are ready to do the work.

If you can’t, alas, then there is no way I or anyone can help you in this regard. This fear of death that they make you feel, comes from the submerged regions of the mind. You would not know if it is that you are afraid of, but as I explained there are only these two methods to get at your subconscious and modify it- Fears related to Sex and death. You get rid of the fear of death first. Then no amount of subtle promptings can make you do what you don’t have to do.

Then there are people traumatized by sexual experiences. This may even have happened in the early childhood. If it is too terrible for the mind to handle the mind would try to blank it for life to preserve the individual. But the fear would remain and would show itself by several things that people do and say. The false morality that they teach you throughout your life might also cause conflicts even if you are not otherwise affected by sexual fears.

It’s a bit tricky to get out of the mental muddle if you were molested in any manner in childhood. There could be a method to deal with it too. But it is too extreme to suggest it here.

Instead I shall tell you a parable. If you were a lion cub and was mauled by bigger lions and somehow escaped, the fear will stay within you till you become like them, a lion. I know being a lion is not fun; it’s being brutal and merciless, it’s being predator instead of prey. You may never want to hunt and kill but unless you believe that you can do it, others would still hunt you down.
It’s all in the mind.

My ideas might be a little hazy for your liking, I know. I don’t have any readymade solutions for the problem. I am trying to find some. I think that is what matters at this juncture. Even if I am the only person thinking on the subject in the universe (I know I am not), it might just generate some responses in the human conscious environment. Thoughts are not fruitless, if I know anything about anything that is this. Thoughts tend to coalesce and produce like thoughts.

Some of you might be able to better my suggestions. Let the thoughts on freedom flourish.

Nothing personal

I must admit that every time I go though the words on that Russian site I feel a twinge of conscience. They seem a bunch of decent people and even wanting to help others. I have attacked them severely, but that was not out malice. To me any tool which can covertly enter the human mind and alter it is demonic. There is nothing personal in it. May be this world is not the same anymore, may be everything is changing. May be it is as they said, I have not fully understood what they are about. They are marketing a technology which has been in the making for more than two decades. May be as they claim sweat and blood was spilt to make it happen. I certainly would not want to put a spanner in their wheels. They have as much a right to market their product as anyone marketing guns and RDX have.

But that being said weapons like that maim and kill only a few (Not that killing is good, though there are duds enough in this world I want to dispose off). They don’t create Zombies in their wake. But psycho-semantic tools do. They infringe upon everything that we hold decent and sacrosanct. We have enough of control already; we are being led like lambs to the altar of our own destruction as human beings. The market and their lords do not view us as individuals; they view us as prospective idiots who are there to offer them more money and control.

You believe that I am talking rot do you? The other day I was in Emile Zapata’s site (Of the Mindguard fame). He has a test by which you can know how controlled you really are. The program shows you a certain number of logo’s and checks how many you can recognize. Now I do not live in the west, I don’t often watch the TV now even, but I could recognize most of the logo’s in the test. If I scored very high like that just imagine what the guys in the west are made to take in. Every image and word you see and hear comes loaded with the suggestions that they are more near to you than your loved one.

Well coming back to what Naomi C. Pattirane said in her comment, my friend could be a prey to the methods she suggested. But they have to be more sophisticated than the tools mentioned in the Russian site. Alan Yiu had hinted that there were methods by which a person’s mental activity could be monitored from outside with help of computers. This was in the late 70’s I think. You can’t dismiss all that as paranoia. Anyway if there was any effort to discover the trigger words inside him it was never done by placing him in front of a computer like the Smirnov technique does. The perps may have found them using the hit and miss method of watching him, asking his near and dear about it and testing the efficacy of the words/images in real situations.

If the Smirnov’s tool is used on anyone, it effectively lessens the force of the talk-back strategy that I suggested in my earlier post. You can’t talk out a CD player. But the matter is not as hopeless as all that. The internal dialog still keeps you alert. It questions every promptings from within you. Every inner suggestion has to come out into the conscious to get enacted.

Let us talk about this in more detail in the next post

Sounding your core

Well it’s about Igor Smirnov again (Do I hear a snigger somewhere? May be I am becoming two noid’s at the same time!) All the same isn’t it wonderful how the name crops up every now and then on the net out of the blue? The strange thing is, the guy seems to be haunting us even after he has left the human haunts and has gone elsewhere with his mind control expertise.

-The question could be should we wish him bon voyage?

Harsh words these- as some would say.

Well may be I am not in the business of being nice anymore or maybe there is nothing to be gained by being nice. And again there is a chance that these words are being put there by someone else other than myself. Pretty scary I know, but who can tell? Are we thinking our own thoughts any more, are we feeling our own emotions (even motions) anymore?

Frankly I have nil idea. I might have been turned into a remote controlled biological machine for all I know.

Is this the Zombie land? Who can tell………..

Things are getting scarier by the second, the one consolation is, you are not anymore responsible for what you do. There is always ‘them’……….

Thank god for small graces.

Honestly I have nothing against Smirnov other than that he meddled with something sacred and inviolable- our right to be free (laugh your head off and continue. Who wants to be free, we are seeking the masochist heaven, we expect whip lashes and bestiality. See how our flesh develops goose bumps all over with the mere thought of such delicacies).

Every particular ‘movement’ has its own messiah. Well the psychotronics has Igor Smirnov. He may have been just moving with the current, the argument being-if he did not do it someone else with an even wicked intent could have.

Of course the current was getting stronger even in his time and was becoming a flood by the second.

Incidentally the in-thing now seems to be the calcite crystals in the pineal gland; they are similar to those seen in the human cochlea which captures sound waves. The mobile phone companies are pumping big money into the research to learn if a technique could be developed to send messages directly to the brain by way of pineal gland.

As you know they are the current moguls’ of the EMF technology, need anything more be said? We are in for a lush time it seems! The lords and masters are always considerate; they know what we need and what we seek. Look how they are spending their hard earned pittances to better our poor lives! May be the Rothschild’s and the Illuminati are behind all this. Some say they even funded Karl Marx to write Das Kapital.

May be they are funding me too, though I would like to see the color of money sometimes! You can’t live with hope alone, even Jesus seemed to have said so. “Man doesn’t live by dread alone” (No fear, I said dread and not bread, there was no ‘mishtake’ as I sometimes make, in this case)

But yet who can tell. Nothing is certain anymore. Are we our own friends? Am I my own friend? Some call this sort of writing convoluted metaphysics. Some also calls it the metaphysical bulshit.

Actually its convoluted bulshit. As an aside, shit may be the only substance that we now process on our own. Everything else is packaged and presented to us for ‘convenience’.

Well if the Rothschild’s are involved there could even be a class struggle in the future between mobile-made- Zombies and other Zombies. Perhaps the government of the ‘mobiles’ would wither away in the end.

Who can tell…….

Anyway coming back to Smirnov, an internet site is offering his mind control tools for commercial use. They call it psycho correction tools. (Well why does it bring on thoughts of correctional facilities all over the world? And again where do these thoughts come from? I seem to have no idea of anything of late!).

Well let that be. These tools of Smirnov are intended for screening candidates who are seeking jobs.

Smirnov was always evasive about how the technology works in what he had said before. This new site is a little more explicit on the subject.

The technique seems to be one which has been in use all along- Find trigger words to bye-pass the conscious and modify human behavior by influencing the subconscious.
Smirnov persistently calls it the unconscious. May be to him all the portions of mind beneath the conscious are the unconscious. Anyway for simplicity’s sake I am sticking with the divisions introduced by Freud -of the conscious, the sub conscious and the unconscious. (The Rothschild’s seems to have funded Freud too. If you think I am in jest, read “The Synagogue of Satan”)

The long and short of it is that I don’t know what Smirnov is talking about. But Freud’s technique seems helpful. It’s more explicable in the context of Hypnosis that is at the back of this all.

Well once you get inside the mind you try to create conflicts within the consciousness by introducing thoughts and emotions incompatible with the individual’s basic belief systems. (This is the normal human behavior, I learn) As the hidden parts of the consciousness are the more primary and are related to his/her personality these inner promptings would be taken as the action of their real selves. This would create commotion inside the mind (any sniggers? Come on, you can’t be terrorized by a guy named “Chasing my shadow”).

The person thus emotionally intimidated would naturally yearn for a solution for this dangerous situation inside. Then cunningly a solution is offered somewhat in line with the persons existing value system but of course subtly different in many ways.

All these of course are effected through covert mental manipulations.

The poor dumb ass embraces it and follows it through to the end acting it out and thus resolving the temporary hiatus (Hiatus?) he was facing. He would naturally be greatly relieved too. This is the case with even the finest of human beings or I hope so. When attack comes from within there is nothing one can do about it. He would not know that his character is being altered without his consent. (That’s how we create Zombies for our recreation)

Smirnov says a lot of fancy things about being careful while using the tools and to ensure that the basic character of the individual is not altered in the process. But its mere hogwash as you would learn by going through the explanations provided in the site. He was too well aware of the dangers involved in marketing these tools (That’s the novelty of the whole thing, isn’t it?).

But I must say that there is nothing new in the technique, there is only a change in the actual methods employed to alter an individual. You can’t call Hypnotism a new technique or hypnosis a new phenomenon, can you? Hardly. All old magic was concerned with it, the white, black and the indifferent. They had their own technique to fashion Zombies but as it doesn’t come within the scope of this post let us skip it. (Skipping is good, it keeps the legs strong)

It is true that to bye-pass the conscious is not as easy as some believe (Or so the site says). Both the conscious and the sub conscious have strong defensive mechanisms to guard against such attacks. The subconscious also works in the form of images rather than words (This seems to be my own contribution; I have no idea where it came from). You can’t just override the conscious and get into the subconscious by brute force.

That’s why trigger words are needed. They can be only of two kinds - those related to the instinct of survival (fear of death) and those related to the sex drive. (I find both of these are my contribution too, where does all these interesting thoughts come from I wonder? I certainly was not born with them I am afraid, as some inherently intelligent people are, they don’t need any education, they only require edification.)

Anyway I would like to emphasis it that these are the only kinds of trigger words which would do the trick. Though the site does not say it in so many words, this has to be the method employed to get at the subconscious by them. They only tell us that the first stage is to locate the trigger words of a particular individual. This is done by placing the person in front of a computer screen which plays a stream of random numbers asking them to punch a key when they feel like it.

These are not random numbers at all. Every number has a word imprinted on it (So says the site but more likely it’s an image, as my coming thoughts suggests) which could only be seen by the subconscious of the individual who is being tested. The tested individual involuntarily punches the space bar when the numbers with the words relating to his basic instincts appears on the screen. Without knowing to him or her examiners would have a complete profile of the person ready to be used when situation demands it later on.

(Hell, it’s going to be long post. I find that the thoughts have started thinning out of my head by now. May be their makers are taking a nap. I should wait till new ones come and continue later)

Searching for liberty

Honestly I have very little taste for realistic paintings and I like the impressionist sort far far better. There is something in me which rebels at the whole concept of realism. May be I can’t stand the sight of order in a chaotic world.

















Also to me the real is subjective and is personal (in art), and there is no point in recreating the world with a paint brush when you can capture any number of versions of it on a camera. If you are skill full enough you can breathe life into them too. Anyway I would prefer Guernica every time to any of its realist versions.

Yet here are some realistic paintings that my brother forwarded to me. I haven’t seen the work of Iman Maleki before and do not know anything about him. He is an Iranian and maybe that’s the reason why he does only realistic paintings.

His figures seem to be in search of something. Who knows may be its freedom that they are searching for!

Bummer story

I am bad. I have hurt my perps in a bad way. Their eyes are not currently draining.Their tears have created a big river by itself. I call it the river of sorrows.

There is no bridge across this river- may be there is one across the river Kwai but this one is un-bridgable.

( Not unabridgable, well may be that too is true , sorrows can’t be abridged. They lie like a whale swept ashore by a naughty gale.

-Gigantic, infinitely portruberent, excruciatingly prominent.

Hence like James Joyce I will let it stand-

Dear word, don’t sit, stand, stand, stand)

What a bummer!( Anyway what does bummer mean?)

Well talking of rivers,

We used to have 44 rivers in the Gods own Country, we now have 45.The last one that of my perps.

It has enough water to drown the grand canyon. I don’t know where it is situated though, the canyon. Let me know if sombody has the full dope on it.

Would ya?

My guess is that Sitchin Zacharia would probably say it is in Nubiru and is being held by EN KI currently. I would only be worried if it is occupied by Ishtar, I like the babe.

She is defenitely sexy.

Sex is savvy even in a goddesses.

Well wherever it is situated, it would be filled, flooded and swept away by this river that we have. The Grand canyon that is.

I Am not content and composed ( though I have composed the above) to let the matters lie like this. Who would want to only hurt their enemies , that’s bad form man, bad form, you should eliminate them instead. Exterminate, massacre, decimate.

And that’s how its done mate. Its like mating, the agony and ecstacy of it.

Off with their fooking ( As the irish would intone)heads.

Indulge in a terrible carnage, (wasn’t even carthage pulverized). Be horrifying cannibals , create a deluge of blood. Completely destroy not partially maime, painstakingly anihilate and not simply punish.

I am not the author of these Maxims. Chanakya ( Koutilya) is. Now there was a man if there was any. He could teach wickedness to the Devil and the dark lord would be thankful too.

I can imagine their bitter faces as I am writing this. They used not to believe in god, but recently they are never out of the temples and Kuttichathan Madoms. It is not Madams ( I only know of one madam, it is kunju madam and she is a man, the fore most pious perp I have ever met in this land) but ‘Madom’ ( House, lodge , staying place or whatever)

Their Kuttichathans are good, for they seem to report every thing I do to these uprights.

They tell me openly that the times have changed, meaning of course that it is the proleteriate which is in power ( they prowl the secretariat that is).

I am not irritated. I never am.

Good game shrimps. Lets move further on.

When the limbs go crazy

Well I do share your remonstrations.

It is preposterous that I should be back and pitching my tent again. Pretty bad taste on my part. Yet the matter is, the moment I see a key board my fingers jump to it and start typing on their own accord.

What can one do? If there is one disease that I fear in the world that is this. I can cure it no way. I have tried everything from tying the hands behind my back to taping the fingers together with duct tape. But to no avail, type they must and suffer I must.

It is as if the fingers have a life of their own. I mean, what could anyone do if their limbs rebel against them and goes their own sweet ways?

There is this story by one of our better authors in the land. I haven’t seen him in person but have always liked his treason (Serves in the French Embassy of all places)

Interesting bloke.

But the good thing is, he didn’t merely pinch the francs, but caused occasional fracas in our literary circles by what he wrote.

Well, he doesn’t write anymore, served as the president of the writer’s academy for a while. That really took the keg out of him.

He may not write again.

Anyway back to what he wrote when he was still functioning as a human being…..

Well, in the story the protagonist is a young man, a nice, god fearing, upright young fellow. But on one fine morning he starts calling his parents by their pet names. Now it may surprise those in the west a bit, but in this land of Manu (the law maker), to call ones parents by the name is sacrilege.

The guy did not finish there. He had definite ideas on everyone around and was intend on broadcasting them all over the place.

According to him the congressmen (not the American kind, the Indian kind who belong to Mrs Gandhi’s party) were weirdoes and the stalwarts of the left were total shit heads, or something of the sort.

He was especially eloquent about it when the local party leaders were around.

Well the long and short of it is the normally taciturn boy had started saying things which would make a steel statue sweat like the weeping willows. (The weeping willows don’t cry you say. Well I told it to cry and that is that)

Anyway the boy became a bloody embarrassment to all, though most of them did not know what they were being embarrassed about.

The enlightened and decent populace could not take it anymore. There is a limit to everything.

So he was taken to a Pan Opticon (maybe it’s a porcupine or provision store or psychiatric ward, I don’t know which) and was subjected to all kinds of treatment including the electro convulsive therapy (Some say the Spanish Inquisition would have been proud of this instrument of torture, had they found it in time). But the boy remained unreformed.

The shrinks may also have become a little worried about the free discussion of their physiognomic features. Suddenly they did not want to do anything with him anymore.

Thus he was returned home quite uncured and still very much in possession of all his beans. He clanked them every now and then.

People normally had good exercise after that in the locality. They learned to sprint at a moment’s notice and scale obstacles if necessary. They also formed vigilante groups to check out whether the boy was coming anywhere near them.

As they say in the fables, prestige is not a loose thing to do without.

Well once while he was sitting on the compound wall of his home facing the alley way in front, his former teacher (A handsome, chaste and cultured lady) came that way. He jumped down directly in front of her. She saw him alight and pleaded with to him with palms coupled.

Don’t say anything horrid, my child.

Our boy looked at her keenly for a moment and asked:

Are you wearing loops now?

The lady fainted there and then and had to be medically revived.

Other than this strange trick with his tongue the boy was completely harmless in all respects. He never attacked any one physically or created any other nuisances.
After some time the local people began to say.

“If it’s the head that is sick, we could do something about it, but what could one do where the tongue has gone crazy?”

Well I don't know, perhaps the same is the matter with my fingers. They go crazy when they see a keyboard. It’s a bummer, to me as well as others. But what could I do.

I am helpless.

May be there is a finger god somewhere and I could pray to him/her/ it (Not to exclude any gender) for relief.

If anybody finds this particular himherit let me know.

Pushing The Envelop

Did anyone miss me? No? Well no matter, who misses whom these days? Do we really care that much for each other?

Don’t think I am complaining. It’s a statement of fact. We don’t really have the time for that sort of shit, do we?

No of course not. None has. We have things to do, place to go, sights to see, people to meet. None of them is unimportant.

That keep the wolves away from the door. And that is vital.

The shrewd Indians of old knew of this. They advised:

Yaya kaya kavidha bahuannam prapnuyat.

That is “Obtain lots of grub by whatever means and methods you can.”

This grub that they speak of, it envelopes every normal activity.

Those ancient were quirky; they did not leave the matter there. They took it much, much further.


They were emphatic in stating: “ Annam Wy Brahma” (Grub is truth, God and everything)

So we can’t set the effort simply aside can we? No, not really. Not because they said it, but for it’s the truth.

Grub does matter.

But what if one has enough of grub for the time being (It never happens you say? Okay, consider it for the sake of argument then)?

We don't have anything on our hands. We are sitting with an easy conscience.

Well thats when we do ‘nothing’, and that takes up time too.

I am being very serious here. It’s no child’s play, doing nothing. It takes some practice, it takes some effort.

To me it’s a serious business. It’s the hardest of occupations. I sometimes despair of sticking to it.

Try it for a couple of hours. Just try it, you will soon find how difficult it is.

Habitually we opt for the other thing, that is, do. It’s easier than sitting still and unoccupied. The funny part is, it’s less dangerous too.

You watch the Chinese man sitting by the side of the road as if he has nothing else to do. There is a stupid and beatific smile hovering on his face.

He seems completely self satisfied.

You are disgusted. You think: There sits the “White man’s burden. He wouldn’t even shit unless told to”

All the while the man might be enveloping the whole world with his being and was even becoming the world in the process.

That takes some doing.

I say if anything is really tough this is it. May be this is why people prefer doing something else instead all the time.

In a way that’s nice too, having something to do all the time. Having something to occupy the mind, to structure time.

That’s all we could do to keep away from ennui. Fill the blank stretches of time with activity. It doesn’t matter what they are as long as they keep us occupied. There is safety in occupation. It pushes adrenaline into the system. It banishes fear for some moments. It creates oblivion.

It creates what?

-Oblivion. Haven’t you heard- something obtuse, oblong and obfuscating?

That’s rot, how could activity create oblivion, it’s the direct antithesis of oblivion. Who you trying to kid man? Don’t we need to be alert to do something, anything?

Alert to what?

To the thing, the immediate environment, to a whole lot of things.

Well, that’s oblivion.

Well then I am Idi Amin.

You don’t know how true that statement is.

Anyway joking apart, doing something pushes other things into the distance. Activity acts as a magical shield, protecting you from inner demons. But the demons may have to be faced sooner or later.

Really we run away from ourselves all the time. You now know the reason why.

While at work we are only aware of the structure that we built its nuances, its vagaries, its occasional blessings, niceties. We proudly call it life.

Structure is lifeless. It’s an imposition; it’s what some call the play of names and forms. It’s the web woven by our own misunderstanding.

Don’t call all this the antediluvian mystical crap. (It may be so, but it’s all true too).

All the time we go missing from our own lives. Some of us would never have the luck to find that in this life time. To me nothing could be sadder than that.

But none would realize that. We would still be having the personal swimming pools, the choppers for emergencies, the 52 inch Plasma/LCD TV’s, the master cards, the universal remotes.

But what exactly could be missing from our lives?

Nothing, we say promptly.

Correct that’s what is missing.

Nothing.

We wonder, what in the hell is all this talk about?

Well what indeed!








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