Bad Days

Gawd, how tired I was yesterday! It’s a bitch driving in the rain to the office and back. Oh, I like the fooking rain alright; it’s not that, my monsoon beauty was not the real culprit in this case.

I like her in and out. I even liked that character “storm” in X files, Halley Berry enacting it notwithstanding.

(She is stunning by the way, a pretty unglamorous role for a mighty glamorous cat!)

Anyway, the real criminal(s) were the roads and the gods who make roads.

You know, stupidity comes in many guises. One guise is that of the idiots who digs up the roads in the monsoons in this land. I just can’t imagine what they get out of it other than the sadistic pleasure of seeing people jumping and hopping in their vehicles as if riding on top of a camel without a saddle through a deadly terrain.

Long stretches of National Highways are thus dug up and packed with boulders and rocks the size of a footballs. It’s not even rolled in to the ground. There is some kind of sports where people take bikes over barrels and boulders and what not. To be honest any of us could compete in that sport and be not laughed at.

We have been doing it for ages.

-Once a girl from north told me that those who drive any kind of vehicles on these roads can do anything on any stretches.

Stretches my god, she used to stretch a lot in front of me, showing armpits and the novelty that was her navel. I was pretty stressed out during that time; she used to sit damn close to me on my bike.
It sent shivers up my spine. I was barely a hermit then. Talk about a head catching fire and the fire force not being around!

Man, she had laid it pretty thick on me then. Oh, that is another matter anyway.

Well after the terrible hip-hop on our roads on this day I got home tired like a chipmunk after coitus. I am not joking, I watched one poor little guy of the species sliding off in a faint after the act back in my younger days. Its eyes drooped and limbs became like melting wax. Anyhow let us leave that one alone too.

Well after reaching home more dead than alive, I was sipping some scalding tea and munching crisp potato chips and was dreaming about writing something. I only dream of writing, not about its subject. It will come somehow.

In any case there I was sitting peacefully at home trying to be happy and then my dear girl rushes in with the news that our neighbor lady fell into a well. Well I dragged myself there and there she was in the well face up fully conscious and holding on to the hose of the motor and its attaching nylon rope. It was evident that it was a suicide attempt (The dame was disturbed).




There was a regular commotion out there, people were rushing in and out of the area with ropes and chairs and what not and was trying to go down the well to rescue her. Being idiotic as always I advised them not to do that and wait for the fire force that was called for. The mouth of the well was half sealed in concrete and the walls were steep and moss covered. It was a deep well. To my mind any bungling attempt would put her life as well as the others lives in danger.

It was the most unpopular opinion there and there was black looks and hostile comments all round. When they were going down the well I left. I was tired and was not in a mood to witness a farce. Of course the guys could not get her even half up. She was heavy and in that particular well it called for expertise. The fire force came and took her out immediately and rushed her to a nearby hospital. She is recovering now.

The strange fact is that no one was at home when she did it. Her husband was away visiting his folks somewhere distant and her younger girl did not care to look for her when she was nowhere to be found. She must have lain in the well for some time.
Nice folks, and with the kind of excited and interesting people around in the neighborhood it’s a wonder she is still alive!

Red Indian annals and mans extraterrestrial origins

I have lately been reading the American Indian chronicles on the origin of the world. It’s nice to have a different perspective and I enjoyed reading them. I especially noted one where the beginning of the world is described somewhat similar in fashion to that of the ancient eastern texts on the subject. I can’t locate it now. I will try to dig it up and post it sometime later.

Anyway, according to the Iroquois, initially there were two spheres in the universe or the upper and lower worlds. One was populated by beings that resembled the humans in form and the other one was inhabited by animals and monsters .This later region is said to have been in darkness. By all appearances it seems that the lower of these regions was earth.

The human arrival on the face of the earth happened in this way.



First a female form descended on the face of the waters covering the earth and landed on the back of a tortoise, this tortoise is said to have expanded till it became an island. The female form gave birth to two children. One was called the good mind and the other was called the bad mind (Got-ti-gah-rah-quast, or good mind, the other, Got-ti-gah-rak-senh, or bad mind). The woman died in giving birth to the twins. They opposed or balanced each other and went about fashioning the world for occupation. These two were said to be gods or existences and the emissaries of the Great Spirit or “Holder of the heavens”. The twins were only carrying out the directions of the Great Spirit.



The first work of Got-ti-gah-rah-quast was to create the sun out of the head of his dead mother, and the moon and stars out of the other parts of her body (she could have been made up of some primary matter!). The light these gave drove the monsters into the deep waters to hide themselves. He then prepared the surface of the continent and fitted it for human habitation, by making it into creeks, rivers, lakes and plains, and by filling them with the various kinds of animals and vegetable kingdom.

He then formed a man and a woman out of the earth (strikingly similar to the bible story), gave them life, and called them Ongwahonwd, that is to say, a real people. Meanwhile the bad mind was not sitting idle. He also seems to have created mountains, water-falls, and steeps, caves, reptiles, serpents, apes, and other objects supposed to be injurious to, or in mockery to mankind. Probably Mr. Darwin would not be very pleased with this.



He made an attempt also to conceal the land animals in the ground, so as to deprive men of the means of subsistence. This continued opposition, to the wishes of the Good Mind, who was perpetually at work, in restoring the effects and displacements, of the wicked devices of the other, at length led to a personal combat, of which the time and instrument of battle were agreed on.



They fought two days; the Good Mind using the deer's horn, and the other, using wild flag leafs, as arms. Got-ti-gah-rah-quast, or Good Mind, who had chosen the horn, finally prevailed. His antagonist sunk down into a region of darkness, and became the Evil Spirit of the world of despair. Got-ti-gah-rah-quast, having obtained his triumph, retired from the earth.



The men, divided into clans, spread over the land and had to change their language in the process, they seems to have undergone great hardships and was rescued every time by the intervention of the Great Spirit, appearing to them in the form of a man. This man later decided to reside with people and became their chief and was known as Hi-a-wat-ha.

He seems to have exhibited all the traits of men while he was on earth.
Some Indian tales describe the fearful phenomenon of Ko-nea-rah-yah-neh, or the flying heads. The heads were enveloped in beard and hair, flaming like fire; they were of monstrous size, and shot through the air with the speed of meteors. Human power was not adequate to cope with them. To my mind these looks very similar to the UFO’s.



And there were Ot-nea-yar-heh, or Stonish Giants'. (Does the H.G. Wells story of War of the Worlds come into mind, with its giant robots?) They were a powerful tribe from the wilderness, tall, fierce and hostile, and resistance to them was vain. They defeated and overwhelmed an army which was sent out against them, and put the whole country in fear. These giants were not only of great strength, but they were cannibals, devouring men, women and children in their inroads.



The Indians only rattled against their rough bodies and fell at their feet. And the consequence was, that they were obliged to bide in caves and glens, and were brought into subjection by those fierce invaders for many winters.

They were also molested by a terrific animal which they called Ro-qua-ho--a variegated lizard--a swift runner and strikes very violent blows with its tail, which destroyed many hunters while lying in lurk for them( Robots again?) After a while a pestiferous and annoying creature of the insect kind appeared in the guise of the Ro-tay-yo (a huge mosquito).

Anyway these would certainly delight the theorists of the alien origin of man.

Clacking away

As is to be expected, things are hotting up inside the cowshed. The moment I landed insides today our trusted soldier starts off with a tirade targeting the current ‘miss universe’ in the set up. She takes up the cue pretty nicely and starts to shoot off her lovely mouth at the top of her stupid voice. Honestly, and I am saying this out of no malice, her voice is horrible. Admitted that she has some semblance of personal beauty, but that doesn’t excuse the hro hro voice.

Its insufferable, luckily she is given to adding regality to it and can’t keep up the strain for more than a few minutes. That saves us from tearing our ear drums for good.

Next appeared the ‘little vixen’, with the information that I am soon to use the ‘mobile phone’ in my counter attack - They play such tricks ensuring that they win both ways. If their innuendo’s can keep me from using the phone they escape my scathing tongue, if not they can claim that they predicted such an outcome and was ready for it.

Now I don’t normally use the cell phones. I hate them in fact. The one that I have with me now is an expensive one but I had not inserted any sim in it. But the recent hospital visits had made it necessary that I insert one. The sims are totally free in this land and my brother-in- law offered one of his temporarily. I think he has a dozen or so cards with him.

Well I had accepted and the card was still in the phone when the cowshed astrologers were predicting my future action. I was delighted to remember the fact and took the phone up immediately and let go. I enjoyed it thoroughly.

They had declared that they would take care of me by the end of the day. The imbeciles were pretty down when they left for home at the end of the day. Even the daily waged ninnies are raising high hopes of making me go on leave, ask for transfer, resign and what not. You could just imagine their total fear of me. If they had any semblance of morals they have discarded it all in the terrible game against me.

Now they are in constant communion with all the shoddy characters in the society. The kind of intimacy they have with deviants and goons and anti socials make me suspect that these are conducting something basically against their own country and against their society. Some of the gangs they are involved with have a history violence and terrorism.

The things that fear makes people do.

Well I have my hands pretty full now. Nothing sublime and generally useful is peeking out of my mind at present. It might go into a lull after some time. Till then my poor readers would have to do with the kind of stuff I supply now.

I hope you remember that the primary purpose of this blog is to spank my loveable foes soundly so that some sense enters their wooden skulls.

So bear with me.

Games

Terrible times these,

-man returns after years to his home from abroad and gets quotationed promptly. He is brutally cut down in open daylight near his home. His limbs are severed and he doesn’t survive the journey to the hospital.

Vintage hatred, but acted out by hired assassins.

To eliminate is easy it appears, all is decided with an exchange of small sums.

Well how much does a life really cost? Very little it seems, some time back there were reports that it required just a sum of a hundred American to polish a guy off from the face of the earth. To maim alone is difficult and dangerous. It took fifty times more money to do that.

But why you may wonder.

One it leaves living evidence, two there would be repercussions, three it needs precise management, for the demands would be for the removal of specific parts of the body. It needs planning and careful execution.

It calls for the specialists, the real Churgeons among the assassins.

But for hacking down a person you only need butchers, they are dime a dozen in our land.

Well as I said, hard times these…….

Anyway my foes were extremely sweet to me today; they went out of their way to make me feel that they are my pals. Of course, nothing is cooking other than they are preparing the way for yet another attack. They seem to have shelved the ‘beyond salvage’ procedure for the time being (thanks to the writer of ‘The Parsifal Mosaic’ for the expression.)

I also played my part of the big idiot to perfection. They had no doubts that I was entirely taken in by their openness and enthusiasm for me.

That happens when you live in the cucumber land, you are so terribly over confident that you would think you can even take down yourself.

Well I am waiting for further moves……..

Lord what's the world coming to

Good things may be in the offing for me in the coming week it seems guessing by the reactions of certain of my adversaries.

One of the ‘Madam’s darling’ was becoming violent as I was leaving the cowshed the other day. He was at the cell phone hollering indirectly against me, making it pretty clear that “they’ are pissed to the core. Normally I would have enjoyed it a great deal. He is just a child, this darling; with tiny and innocent dove eyes- Would have been good looking lass if he had been born in that species.

He is just a dolt and doesn’t bother me much. These cell phone antics could be countered in kind, by inserting a sim card in my phone and talking sense into them. But I have become a little more compassionate of late. I have a pretty acidic tongue and they would not stand a chance if they had to face it day in and day out.

Well don’t make me do it pretty boy, would you? I had packed those kind of things up. Don’t make me repent it.

Anyway some one seems to have put a spanner in their ‘quotation’ wheels. May be they are ashamed of the publicity. Whatever it was they are pulling out their old tricks. The sorry thing is I was otherwise occupied in the last week and could not give them enough attention. Fragile plants need constant attention they say.

Remiss of me.

But all that week I had something domestic to take care of and could not be my usual wonderful self. Even the illuminati (or the illumined) have such problems you know. It all comes with not renouncing the world.

Very sad it is!


Our former soldier was going berserk too. As could be expected they would have the full quorum on the Monday. Seaweed would be leading from the front; he had got hold of a disk with pig squeals and has started to play it on and off. I had to defend it with my own brand of subliminal induction into them.

Lord what is the world coming to!

Others are getting geared up too. The week promises to be a good one by all means. I am planning to catalogue the events anyway………and of course to create some caricatures of my dear foes…….. Hope they would have the sense not to indulge in their idiocy to make me do it.

Man from somewhere else

Well our poor everyday man was returning home in the night after an exhausting days work and as luck would have it he ran into two of the roughest characters around, both heavily drunk and in the middle of a heated argument. One was holding forth that the shining thing in the sky was the moon and the other was pretty sure it was the sun.

Our man was immediately noticed by them and was held up.

Mate, one drunk pawed him, see, that thing over head, isn’t that the moon?

The hell it is, the other guy said, our friend knows it’s the sun.

Our man had a wife and kids at home.

The thing over head was definitely the moon. But truth was not an option in the situation. Either way he is going to be mauled by one of them.

He was in a quandary.

He remembered his wife and kids and let out a fervent internal prayer to god to help him.

Of course the god was catching a few winks at that particular moment and did not respond.

Come on, the ruffians said; just tell the truth, we will look after you whatever it is, we promise you.

(Well that was what our poor guy was most afraid of. Especially that “we” looked definitely promising)

Then he had a brain wave.

He said:

I am sorry guys, you see, I am not from these parts. I am from the Valley of Silence.

The drunks were crestfallen.

Well in that case leave peacefully stranger, you wouldn’t know about it would you?

The story ends.

Is there a point to this story?

May be there are several. But being unintelligent I can’t think of any. Some friends volunteered though; here are a few of their suggestions:

1. On occasions saving your ass is better than saying the truth. (Elementary Watson, even I could have guessed it)

2. Be evasive where your personal interest is not at stake. (Sketchy, dude, very sketchy, but anyway I like the vagueness)

3. Avoid people, who quarrel over the obvious, they have other interests in mind (Definitely pedestrian friend, this could also come under stating-the-obvious. More than that, there was no avoiding them, that was the whole schema of the story, and don’t ask me what a schema is, for god’s sake)

4. Drunks can be duped. (Wrong, everyone can be taken in! You lose heavily brother, no one comes up with a story to con everyone, it would have no moral in it)

5. You can’t rely on god and has to rely on your wits to extricate yourself from sticky situations (Where did the fifty-fifty principle go? God has to do his fifty if we do our fifty, don’t he? You can’t be serious man; it can even be argued that it was God who put the idea into the man’s mind.)

May be there is no moral at all, well anyway, what is this nonsense about the moral of a story, I can make no sense of it.

Agori's, some thoughts

I recently saw something about Aghori’s in Ripley's Believe It Or Not!. The footage intrigued me. I had heard of the sect before, but was never interested enough to look them up. On a whim I went through all the stuff in internet on them. Well……. what can I say, may be there is such a path to harness power too……….

You can have a look at it yourself; here is a video of what they do. But it’s a very disturbing one and you are warned. It might hit you hard on the head and might haunt you afterwards, so be very careful watching it.

(Aghori video)

Some may call it macabre, ghoulish, ghastly, gruesome, chilling and the like. I would not even dare to call it revolting, after all dead human flesh is like any other dead flesh we eat. Some of us do that on a daily basis don’t we? Okay, we don’t eat it uncooked normally, but our partiality and reverence for our genus is what makes us abhor human flesh. May be the Agori’s are right in saying that there is nothing sacred anywhere and all have the same value shorn off their trappings.
Yet I doubt whether it would really lead one towards truth……

In fact I am pretty certain that it wouldn’t. Power (even if you gain it by such out of the ordinary practices) presupposes powerlessness, both are inseparable, they are twins; one would not exist without the other. Hence it is apparent that there is no absolute power anywhere.

Absolute power is only possible in the back ground of absolute powerlessness and they would negate each other.

So the sect’s basic premise that they can become Siva by storing power is untenable. Siva, if viewed as consciousness, goes beyond the realm of the dual. Gaining power is one thing and becoming liberated is another thing altogether. You can become Mr. Universe or a head of state without being an ounce illumined in the process.

Some say there are three main ways to reach truth (with innumerable subsidiary paths), the satvik (pure) rajasik (energetic) and the Tamasic (mean), they also say that people are naturally inclined towards one of these because of their dominant guna (quality). May be they are right, but in the end the method they all resort is one and the same.

It has to be, there is no other way to truth at all, whether you do it on the top of a Shava ( dead body) or on Shiva ( on the trikut) alone, it’s all the same technique. May be certain people may require a strong jolt to awaken themselves, like sitting on a dead body and meditating.

In reality the body housing a non-illumined self is nothing other than a dead body. You don’t need to find one stinking and rotten to do meditation at all. If you can’t use your brains itself what is the use of eating someone else’s brains.

Anyway some have collected stories of meeting them in person, strange stuff but interesting though.

But to believe that the human flesh imbues one with certain powers is taking it a little too far. To those who see the world as it is everything is powerful, whether it is dead or not, or it can also be powerless. It’s all a point of view, in the end all powers are the product of the mind and are not produced by anything that you see around. There are other ways to harness power without resorting to such strange practices.

I am stunned, but it is also useful to know that there are such methods of search for truth too. It drives the point nicely home, there even such desperate practices to get at truth, though delusional……..

In praise of a lost feeling

I have not been intensely romantic in my life other than on a few occasions and they were very strong and taxing. But on the whole I have escaped from the clutches of romance without allowing it to do any great harm to me. From my few experiences and noticing the experiences of others I am certain that it can pull a person down without mercy and destroy them even, if it goes bad.

The present generation, luckily or otherwise, are quite oblivious to its charms. They take life as a serious business to be conducted in a sane manner. I don’t know whether it is good or not, but I sort of admire them for the strong mentality that they display towards life in general. Back in my times the colleges in our land were great centers of romance. Most of the relationships ended in being with each other for the rest of the life.

That could be a pretty taxing affair too. In love everything would look rosy; the lovers would only exhibit their most becoming qualities for the other to view. After the knot is tied things take on a different hue altogether. Previously unnoticed or ‘charming’ flaws become the biggest hindrance in the “fambli” life.

I don’t think the present generation is aware of these intricacies. This could not be the reason for their aversion to the lure of romance. But somehow or other they have reached the conclusion that to be involved in such a relationship is beneath them, some of them consider it to be foolish to be engaged in them too. This I learn from their interviews.

Life has gone very brainy nowadays, it seems. Feelings are taken to be weaknesses now. I feel it strange most of the time, the way the youngsters behave, they have a steely timbre in them, it frightens me a little too. Everything that they do is very businesslike, like they are out to do something with the world, what I don’t know. They are the new iron race and I am concerned about the coming generation, they could be more brutal with feelings than the present one.

May be this is the right direction, maybe it is like they say in some old science fiction tales, in the coming times the emotional types might be considered weak and stupid. Though I too have something steely in me towards emotionalism (I was a great bawler at one time and hated every moment of it, that may have turned me against it if nothing else did), I would not like to live in the coming iron epoch. It would destroy me completely.

The tastes that we have in music too are alarmingly different. I still like old melodies and romantic songs, while the cool guys of today go for the blaring variety. Though I would still run for my life if some girl says that she loves me I am moved when I listen to these love ditties. I never can understand why, maybe I am inherently romantic.

I have a special liking for songs about separation.

They say that separation makes love stronger, Kalidasa has written a wonderful poem on it, the ‘Meghasandhesha’ or the ‘message sent through a cloud’. It describes the state of the lover in ‘Viraha’ or separation. It’s an absolute classic on the subject.

All these came to my mind while I was listening to the wonderful voice of Jesudas singing a song about separation. I like everything about it other than the stupid picturization of the song in the movie it was included. The words are haunting (lyrics by ONV Kurup, put to tune by G. Devarajan) and the voice of Jesudas has no parallel in our minds. It is beyond words.

The song begins somewhat like this:

“Were you near me, I yearned idly for a moment…”

And the imagery that follows is stunning.

The rain at night, the sound of the leaves stirred by rain, the music of the rain drops spreading over the strings of the heart, the cackle of the lone bird near the window......

The time the first bud came out in Chambaka, the hot imagination that touches the soft and silken hair of someone, the recalled lines of an ancient love poem ….
And so on. Its sheer poetry and I can’t translate it. All these make him intensely long for his lover.

It is also raining outside here now, may be that has added more charm to the song. Any way I am in love with this song. Pretty deplorable taste perhaps, well, what can I do, I like all the silly stuff…..

A Proposal

My recent brashness has brought on a blood curdling attack from our fierce perpetrators. They are always at phones, both the male and female of the species, spewing obscenities on me in the loudest of voices. But how do I know this, could they not be talking to others. Well my dear friends, you don’t call names inside an official establishment repeatedly in the loudest of voices.

You can go out there are no rules against it, that is what people do when they have to say something indecent on a cell phone. You move out of ear shot and let go.

Well that would not apply when you are attacking someone on the sly would it?

They probably are not even talking to anyone. That’s the good thing about a cell phone. No one would know if you are talking to anybody at all. The schizophrenics could go unnoticed in society now if they have a cell phone with them. They can talk all they want till the itch to talk is over.

I have discontinued using cell phones, so I do not have the option of retorting in kind even if I could, I have my doubts on it. A former military hand is especially belligerent on the phone. He seems to have learned almost all the vulgar words by heart in his former service. I am sure that the enemy would take to their heels if this guy is fielded even without firing a single shot at them.

All this takes place inside a government establishment! But this is only the minor part. You can ignore the braying of the asses if you chose. But matters do not end there.

They have spread the attack outwards into the society now. I wonder at the resources these guy have. It seems to be never ending. If I had such money at my disposal what would I not do?

(That’s what people are afraid of is it not? Well, well, well. Keep your money guys; you might need it in the heaven world which you are certain to visit!)

What kind of funds are these, or are these collected from different wealthy dolts in the society by coercion, it seem to be so because they exhibit scant respect for money. If I or you were spending money you would be careful what you do with it, but not these wonder workers. I call them so because they seem numerous and at the same time connected to form a unity.

They all work with one mind and seem to have rehearsed their roles beforehand. This is not be wondered at because, the spineless invertebrates keeping out of sight need only let on that these “upright citizens’ are working for the state and is trying to trap the greatest threat to the world.

Currently all the imbeciles I see around believe implicitly that I am that threat.

I can destroy the world out right you know, and these good citizens are saving the world from me. Shouldn’t they be rewarded? No doubt they should. They are working for the benefit of the humanity.

And to tell you the truth, they are being rewarded, if you only knew of the sums that the “authority” spends to nullify my horrifying sins! (The safety of the world is at stake you know). You would not believe it.

If I did not have a pen with me all these exalted deeds would have been gone unrecorded. What a great loss that would have been to humanity, who ever recognizes that such hard working and sincere souls are out there working silently to eliminate terrible universal calamities like me?

On this day I was at a bakery on my return journey, no one was there when I went in. Suddenly the whole world gets there. Every one of them shows wonderful familiarity with me. They even hint at certain things in my life. The girls at the counter purposely delay the delivery of the items I ordered to me though none of the crowd was purchasing anything.

They were waiting for the ‘experts’ to arrive. Soon the expert arrives and speaks to the owner of the shop on more intimate details concerning me. They darkly hints that the only want to “make things clear”.

They are already so tense at the workplace that I am sure that they would soon start alluding to “Quotations” (quotation is a covert term used to describe the work given to hired killers.) Well nothing is impossible for these guys. When the goons and uprights go hand in hand anything is possible.

Anyway things are hotting up at the workplace.If everything else fails these guys sure is going to jump on me and start suffocating me. All the signs are there, they are currently chewing mixture of betel in front of me (none of them does it normally) and according to sources “betel mixtures came to be associated with contracts, agreements, weddings or other occasions. After contracts were signed, betel was chewed to signify the final "sealing" of the agreement. “

Unless they are planning to marry me (at this late age and in my poor physical condition!) they could mean only one thing, that an agreement has been concluded to eliminate me. I am fearful and I am suggesting something else in its stead. I am ready to marry them, both the male and female perps all together, one’s life is more precious than our prestige, is it not.

I am not worried about looking ludicrous before the public in marrying them en masse. I don’t mind their ages and different statures in life, I am without options and I am ready. Would you marry me perps? I would like to have my life back. And please don’t worry male perps, the Delhi High court has ruled that males can get married in this land, if it is not permitted in this Gods Own Country let us by all means go to Delhi and get married.

My wife won’t mind, it’s to save my life, is it not.

Don’t chew betel mixture because you have decided to get me eliminated, chew it because we are going to get married, I promise to be good to you.

I can be the lover you were looking for all your life.

Disgusting

There are rare specimens of humanity, so degraded that others would not dare touch them with a ten foot pole. I have the good luck to work with some of them. They wouldn’t mind to stoop down to anything, even pawning their dear and near to achieve their ends.

Harsh words you think? Well I haven’t expressed myself satisfactorily enough for my own liking. I shudder when I meet them; honestly I am revolted to my very core with them. It’s a fear people feel when they meet despicable types who is vile personified.

To those who have a modicum of decency such horrors among men are fear-inspiring. When I look at them I see the very abyss of humanity, the yawning depths of human depravity and treachery.

I fear for the rest of human race at those moments. When such specimens are around the case for humanity is lost. You can do anything, you can be rash, you can act vulgar even if needed, you can turn tantrums, you can call names, you can screech and explode, you can do any of these things, but you cannot dissemble. You need to stand forth and be true to yourself.

But this hateful bunch is otherwise, they have made an art out of dissembling.

To me that is the nadir of life.

Those who dissemble to dupe everyone into believing that they are truthful are not members of human community for me, they belong to some other race, no, not even to the animal race, animals don’t dissemble, they don’t cheat, they don’t take people for a ride without any cause other than to relish the filthiness in doing so.

This they practice on one and everyone.

Wouldn’t you be afraid of coming in contact with absolute filth? I unfortunately have to do that all the year round too.

I have never tried to hide my revulsion for them at anytime. Well does that aggravate them, oh no, they are pleased as hell with it. They think it’s some kind of an achievement. They think so high of their achievement that they even celebrate it all the year round.

I have been working with them for years and have not seen everything that they can do. Currently they are lying high and low about their lives and their colleague’s lives. You can’t take their words for true even when they are about to die. They would lie about anything and everything, even about illnesses of their colleagues. Only they know the benefits of that.

There is a lifelessness about their faces that’s utterly revolting.

Currently they are on a collection spree to help the ‘needy’ of their colleagues.

Actually, as can be guessed, they are the needy lot. They are trying to masquerade as benefactors of others in their gang in their absence and those it is intended for wouldn’t see the color of it at anytime.

Nice trick to make a few bucks isn’t it. They are getting fat on that too.

Others would puke even hearing about it, but not these. They would even gobble up the puke too, much too tasty to waste.

There is even a specialist of such practice in the gang.

He is seen admitting that he “is not interested in anything else”. He seems to be some sort of a deviant unfortunately. There could be others too.

What can one do but ‘respect’ them for their ‘contribution’ towards the human society.

Tiredness

“I am tired, I need rest”

(A man we know back in this land.)

Of course, we know that you are tired; we know that you need rest. And let me tell you, it’s not a physical tiredness, it’s not a mental or intellectual tiredness, it’s a spiritual tiredness. It’s a tiredness resulting from seeing the fruitlessness of upholding a stance, trying to live up to those ideals that are fast being overwritten, annulled and put aside.

Some of us would say that you are sadly out of tune with the times.

But you did well. You stood fast to those things that you believed in even when others were shouting for your head. It’s not a little matter, it’s not a silly matter, it was gutsy and nice and we respect you for that.

You took on an iron structure and escaped comparatively unscathed. If that is not heroic, what is?

You see, we have very few real heroes nowadays, we only have hyenas prowling in the dark, we have been reduced to such a pass that we were even cheering the hyenas if they come out in the day.

We had lost heart.

Do you know, we don’t need supermen anymore, we only need people who exhibit a semblance of integrity, who tries to stay with what they think at least till it is proved otherwise?

It is not much to expect is it?

But sadly we can’t find many who do that. That is our predicament; it’s the dilemma that we face in this most lighted up of all dark ages.

We have been cheated and taken for a ride by those we trusted in for ever so long that we sometimes forget to clap when we see someone otherwise. We no longer know what is right and what is wrong. We have seen right proved wrong and wrong proved right so many times.

So we wonder when we someone say “This is right’ and hold fast to that.

Some of us call it obstinacy.

We have been taught so by our peers and elders. We call total looseness flexibility now; we have discovered new meanings for words, in fact we are regularly inventing expressions to cheat ourselves out of any meaning that may find hidden in them.

-So that we can call ‘black’ white and the ‘day’ night.

We are whiling away our time like that.

But remain with us for a while anyway, we may reform, we can’t rule out anything can we?

About touch

You know what touch is. It’s the most pleasant of experiences. I often think it is the only pleasurable experience that we really have.

May be you don’t agree, there are other senses too isn’t there?

Yes there are. Sight, sound and taste are pleasurable of course but to my mind not in the way touch is.

I will illustrate it for you.

Have you ever had medicine oil applied to your wounds? May be you haven’t. I know the modern medicine would abhor and shudder at it. But it’s the most pleasant of feelings; it’s applied with feathers so that the wounds wouldn’t hurt.

Some background.

I was a very unruly child and used to play in the mud and dirt all the time. Actually none really cared what I did; they always let me have my way. So I would be digging up earth worms, chasing squirrels and crows, following ants, climbing all the trees that I could in the vicinity, poking with sticks inside every single hole that I found around the house, upturning old stones and discovering all the inhabitants under it, sliding into terribly antique old ponds that we had around the house which was infested with water snakes, frogs, and fish, assist in directing the flow of water throughout the length of our country estate when plants and areca nut trees were being watered in the summer and so on.

Falls, cuts and bruises are the part of such exploits. Of course none was concerned about hygiene back then; also they thought that contact with the nature made children strong and immune from diseases. I am not a medical person and so I can’t say if it was good or not for the health, but I can say one thing, I liked every bit of my exploits.

Of course all of these were done bare foot, and possibly in the nude too. I may have had enough dresses or foot wear (I was the boy of the manor after all), but I had a great aversion to them in my childhood. I was a free soul, a rustic soul, I liked the sun touching my bare body, the breeze caressing me, and rolling in the dust. I still remember girls employed to look after me running after me with dresses and giving up in the end.

I was fast with my legs and possibly it stood me in good stead when I was in sticky situations later in life where the only fight one could think of is the ‘horse fight’ namely good old fashioned running.

The girls used to tease me that the crows would peck at my little thingy if I did not wear trousers or some stranger would come and steal it otherwise.

I may have felt some fear if I had known Freud’s castration complex then, but luckily, my mother only chanted hymns when I was in her womb and I was quite oblivious of anything which would have taken my little self away by way of force.

Freud seems to be all muddled up over the issue too. In fact he muddied up everything with his infantile analysis of human psychology, he may have been acting out his own sexual fantasies by way of writing about it.

Anyway back to medicine oil.

I would always have cuts and wounds then on my feet.

My mother would bring out the oil and apply it on them when she feels like it. It was a pleasant time for me. I was intensely interested in what she was doing on my sores with the feather. May be she would be thinking about several other things at the time, but I always felt her to be very mysterious then. I would alternately look on what is she doing and at her face to catch her expressions.

My mother has the most fluid of faces; it is still a delight to watch her in any kind of moods even at this late age. You would catch her at her best when she is angry. I still manage to make her so at times to watch her. I can’t describe what happens to her face then because it is totally beyond my powers to do so. Every single muscle in her face would behave delightfully then.

But even otherwise watching her was fun. In fact most of our women are fun to watch when they are emotionally involved in anything. Other than the most sophisticated and the deadened ones that we have now, our ladies could call up such minute and fleeting expressions on their faces (Please believe me when I say that these are not the stylized feelings of wonder, delight, anger, distaste etc in the general sense, these are a myriad of fleeting expressions which are hereditarily coded into them and speak of thousands of years of refinement in the back ground) all the time. As for my mother she is the absolute mistress of it. Interestingly most of her female relatives are too. I love them for it.

Sometimes she would look totally unconcerned while applying the oil and I will be disappointed, but at other times something will catch her interest in the cut or wound. There would be a series of indefinable movements of the lips, eyes, nostrils, eyelids, brows and the entire face. Though I had great delight in the touch of the feather on my sensitive wounds I would forget that and look at her face to see the wonderful display on it.

But that was only a side dish; the real thing was the feeling of touch of the oily feather. It would feel hot and cold at the same time. Eagle feathers are the preferred ones for the job I think, may be any father would have done too. The wound would be lightly washed by a lotion of diluted Dettol before the oil is applied. She preferred Dettol over all others and still maintains that it’s an antidote for all kinds of skin problems.

Naturally I would not be in a good mood after that. But the moment she takes out the medicine oil I would be again all attention. There is way in which she applies the oil, with very soft deft touches and concern that tells me of her love for me.

Mothers here never show their affection by hugging and kissing their children unless they are very little. In fact they would most probably be chasing us the year round to beat us black and blue. And they don’t ever tell their children what they are doing with them and we never ask them what they are doing to us. Both parties have an unshakable belief that the mother is always right in such cases. So there would not be any explanations at all. You can watch and learn what is being done.

But their affection is tangible to us at all times, it is a physical feeling, it’s as if it’s an entity by itself.

Well back to medicine oil.

I would place my mind at the spot where the oil is applied and would catch every little feeling that there is. It was an absorbing job. Sometimes I will close my eyes and try to see what is happening while the feather is at work. It was a sweet experience, I would be aware of every point the feather touches both on the wound and outside. It was as if my skin had become an eye and was seeing what’s going on. The little ridges and the rises on the surface and around the wound would be exquisitely sensitive to touch. You need to close your eyes and concentrate to feel it in its entirety.

Now when I occasionally notice the scars that I have on my legs from those exploits in the childhood, I would also try to recall the sensations I underwent while medicine oil was being applied to the wounds and cuts that once were.

Even the memories bring some of the original feelings back. I think touch is the most remembered of all things in our lives.

The kingdom of Darkness

In the land of shadows we hate light, we worship darkness.

It’s in our nature, we are vampires, and our code says it in black and white.

Day light is death, only those who seek death shall seek the light of day.

It’s a secret doctrine, not many know of it. We have kept it under cover. But there are those who prefer light among our subjects.

They are our food supply. We can’t have them agitated, so we supply them with synthetic lighting and they seem happy.

But we are fearful. There may come a day when some would realize the truth.

Our ideologues are trying to devise a method to overcome that.

As an initial induction, we have tried to erase the mention of darkness from our annals.

There is no darkness, we say, there is only the brilliance of light all the year round.

Those who seek darkness would not find it in our kingdom.

We are the only fully illumined environment in the universe. Those who see darkness anywhere in it is subject to an optical illusion. (We take them out for treatment and naturally drain them of their blood.)

Or they are the trouble makers. (Our treatment of them could be guessed)

Or they are after power. (We question them before draining them).

These are only the initial steps. Our guys are working on something better.

In the mean while we are keeping our fingers crossed.

All that sparkles is not water

I am not as lazy as all that and I do go to other blogs sometimes, more accidentally than intentionally. I thought these guys would be the unbeatable kind, the best in the business, the ones who have their wits about them , the ones writing about the most abstruse and intellectual of all subjects- in fact I picked such blogs to go through.- the intellectual blogs, the ones where they discusses the world.

I wouldn’t be naming no names, Devil forbid (Currently he is in charge of these regions as per the astral records).

Guys I am disappointed, I am sad and almost into crying, I may not be an intellectual at all, but your blogs made me into one and I am angry about it, at least I had to develop the acumen to call a spade a spade, to call out to the kings that they are parading in the nude.

The terror and fear I had to go through before my baptism into intellectuality. It shook the balls off me.

You have made me come out very plain. I am ever the nice man, the one who cares for the weak, but your mental weakness had a desultory effect on me.

I am totally shattered.

Oh, boy……..

You see, being dumb is no sin, being thought dumb is still less sin, being dumb and thinking yourself dumb is the least sin of all and to tell you the truth being dumb and imagining yourself intelligent is entirely no sin in the whole unimaginable universe.

Yet being intelligent and calling yourself intelligent is SIN, nay it’s S I N in capital letters with double spaces between every letter. It is unpardonable, it’s the worst kind of idiocy that there is.

I need to be brutal here.

You are totally, completely, wholly, and utterly off dudes, if you can’t catch the reference, let me be more specific, the shit that you write, it’s totally gross. I would not call you duds though, you need to have a brain for that, there is no use in targeting something which doesn’t exist.

May be I am the only person aware of this out there in the internet at present; I could be the only wise one. I hope you wouldn’t post my profile with the caption “The only intelligent black mass in the internet, or the entire planet” now. Yet I am not talking about the indefatigable cunning that some characters exhibit to ruin the lives of others. We have them even here in this blessed of all countries.

You may create the biggest din in the universe about this, but ‘water with gas’ is ‘water with gas’, there is no point in calling it anything else. Forget the language, forget the style, forget the grammatical errors, none of your nonsense’s would come anywhere near mine. Not as nonsense mind you, but as real authentic musings on life.

That is the sad part.

I never expected it; I had thought my writing style was stilted, uninteresting and uninviting. But oh no, oh no, it appears to be the best in the world, it may lack in high sounding words, it may not say “peremptory castigation” and things like that. It might say ‘unmindful ridicule’ instead.

To tell you the truth I do not know the meaning of both the expressions. But anyway I am not going to put up banners on my ignorance, by the way you are. Good luck with it.

May be you are clawing on the wall by now. But wait I haven’t finished. I have something more to add.

Those were cruel words, those were uncharitable words, and those were nasty words. But again truth is truth, there is no gainsaying that. Just forget about the cliques involved in the blogging world; just think on the merit of the out put. Not one blog out there would stand up to mine. Take even the silliest of my posts; they shine like a beacon in a stormy sea.

Never mind that I have not been to the sea as yet, let alone find myself in a stormy sea, but believe in every word I just uttered.

They are not utter nonsense’s. They may not make sense immediately (What does for that matter?) They are about nascence, about being born again, and renascence, about being reborn. May be its even about renaissance, namely internal transformation or also about reformation, that is, restoration.

Did anyone expect that I can’t see even if I have ears, and I can’t hear even if I have eyes? Wrong, it’s the wrongestest thing anyone could look ahead to. I see everything little ones, I miss nothing, I may feign ignorance, but I am the light, nothing would shine in my absence.

Not even shenanigans.

This is not said out of elation, this is said out of disappointment.

I expected more from you guys. I was out to learn at your schools, I was out to begin afresh, to polish what I write in very easily understandable words and to stun the world with my profundity. Well now none of that is going to happen.

I may not know Einstein, but I know when I see a good thing, a good piece of literature, even if I do not write it. Let me tell you without mincing words- Yours are just hoogle boogle, whatever that is.

I am the unquestioned king of the nonsensical in the world by common consent. But even I feel dejected by the wares on exhibition out there in the world of blogs. Terrible stuff, terrible stuff. Not even a glimpse of insight, not even an iota of sense, most of them talks about papers that they are about to present. Man, they are not much better than some ‘papers’.

What the hell are they talking about; do any of them know them themselves? I doubt it, I doubt it very much.

(I think you have the sense to take none of this seriously, the fact is that you guys write sublimely and I am a little envious of the fact. There is the case of finding equilibrium or the homeostasis or the center, or whatever, isn’t there? I am trying to do just that. )

Little Satan’s

I have often laughed at my adversaries for seeking assistance from Kuttichathan’s and such supernatural forces. No doubt it was a little hard for my very few readers to latch on to what I was talking about in there.

Well I have at last taken pity on them and am about to reveal certain very ‘secret’ information about Chathanism here. These have never been revealed before and if you miss this post you would never come to learn about it!

So be on your toes!

Well are there such things in the world, and if there are, are they dangerous?

-What do you think, are they?

Let us examine what they are first.

Never doubt it for a moment that they are real (wink), in the sense that your thoughts are real, you don’t perceive your thoughts do you, but all the same you are sure of their reality.

(My muse says that some do perceive thoughts nevertheless and she is right, I used to perceive them in my father’s face even before he started to speak once. No judge would look more condemning than him at those moments. Where do they come from you may ask, the thoughts I mean, well it seems that I had triggered them off in those instances. A pretty straight forward case don’t you think?)

Anyway back to serious discussion. Kuttichathans are thought forms and they are very real, you might think that I am dabbling in the supernatural here, but let it be made very clear from the very start, there is nothing, and I emphasize it, there is nothing supernatural in the world. All phenomena that you come across are natural and physical.

-Only that there are levels to it that we often fail to realize (Man, don’t we know that feeling now!)

Well, didn’t once people think that Praná or life force is a mere figment of imagination of some mystics, then the late USSR scientists came up with the theory of Bio energy, though it is not the same as Praná it gives you an idea what it is in a very basic form. (Some say that it led to the downfall of the Soviet empire, there was too much bio energy around it seems….)

Any way the power of thought and its property to create material phenomena was known to all the people in the world, especially people who dabbled with the psychical phenomena. But it’s not a part of modern science as yet (may be it should be made so).

There have been a few experiments in clairvoyance and remote viewing etc which had turned in some results. We know of instances of telepathy though it has not been proved conclusively. (I leave it to you to think of an instance in this case)

But why are these not proven like that?

My very secret information is that, it has to be so because the world is full of people who are after power and control, if any of them gets wind that there are such things around they would start trying them out and bring their own and others downfall. What I say would look lame and stupid to certain kinds of minds, you need to experience and learn about these things to be sure of them! So pray for such things to happen to you.

Let us jump into the cauldron now.

The term Kuttichathan is made up of two words in my language. ‘Kutti’ and ‘chathan’ . But you guessed as much by now did you not? In case you haven’t here is the full dope. The word Kutti means “little” and the word Chathan is a derivative of shaitan of the Arabic or of Satan in a more anglicanised version. The meaning is clear isn’t it? These are ‘little satans’ and the name is appropriate as they are thought to be evil entities which are mainly used to harm people.

How do they harm people?

Well they are sent with harmful intent towards people to kill, maim, complicate things, and generally ‘despatch ‘ them.

Do they do that?

I don’t know if I have mentioned this before, once some dignitaries in my land called a shape shifter before them. Shape shifters in this land assume frightening shapes and appear before their prey in the night to dispose them off by frightening them to death.

Our guys asked.

What if you can’t kill him like that?

The shape shifter sheepishly admitted.

Well sirs, then we need to apply some arm pressure on them.

Meaning of course, strangling them.

These were the erstwhile ‘exterminators” of this land, but they don’t ply their trade now, more sophisticated methods have been invented for the purpose it seems.

Anyway thoughts and magic might not always work, do they?

Hmm

Going grimestestestestestest………..

Why are people like this?

No idea. (As if he has enough ideas otherwise! Hmm)

Anyhow I should know of such things, being a “writer”!

(Who in the hell hole fixed such a title on me oh Lord?)

Guys tell me, what the hell is a writer? Take pity on me, because I am totally bamboozled by it, never saw the genus in my life. Is it some kind of mutant with several heads and hands? Then may be Ravan in the epics was a writer, he had ten heads and enough hands to match, I am yet to hear of him composing anything though, seems to have only discomposed Siva and Parvathy while they were engaged in ……in …. Well……you know what….. Ahem…. in the (pro) creation of the universe……

He took up mount Kailas, the abode of Siva in his hands and juggled with it. Siva was pleased as any man would be in the circumstances; a little outside assistance in such matters is always welcome.

Show me a man who doesn’t like his girl clinging to him in fear, especially at the time of doing their ‘duty by the nation’ (as George Orwell said) then I will show you Santa Claus, not fake mind you, in flesh and blood.

Machismo is a thing that we guys go for in a galactic way.

As English ladies would have said:

It’s the truly ‘bloke thing’. (I like the way they say it. They roll it with the tongue, that ‘bloke’; it comes out sweet and soft and terribly endearing.)

Such moments are rare and far in between in a man’s life. You just can’t go off and pick up brawls with others to show your girl that you are macho, can you, only the most intelligent do it nowadays; they mostly end up in jails.

The rest of the unintelligent species have to wait for some minor natural calamity to occur for their chance.

That’s the opportunity to say inanities like:

Don’t you worry sweetum, there is nothing to be afraid of, I am here, ain’t I?

(The girl, though frightened, would be laughing on the insides, ha ha ha, what did he do when that goon stared him down the other day?)

Some girls would show much more spirit, saying:

You know what, that’s exactly what I am worried about. Aren’t you going out and checking?

My wife does it all the time. Wisely I wouldn’t budge. Words are one thing, life is another thing altogether, she might get another loafer to marry again, but I would not get my life back.

It is much safer inside your house on a night than anywhere else in the strange uncanny world outside.

Anyway, I was talking about something very serious in the beginning. Let us hop back to that.

Why are people like this?

Take for instance the case of Seaweed, he is perfectly convinced that he is about to resign very soon; (of course he means not himself in this case, he would rather eat crap than do that).

He is our current Krishna in the office. The guy is said to have a way with women, the girls in the office are also emphatic that he knows the way!

The girl sitting nearest to me is quite proud of the fact too, may god bless her.

They are the experts aren’t they? Girls? So we would not discuss that. I still lose my way somewhat with my dearest wife when we do it, so I need to respect the guy without any inhibitions.

He is the current super star of skits in the office (Some don’t like this “Office“ of mine, so let us call it the cowshed from now on)

Any way skits are daily organized by the slimy friends inside the cowshed.

First, Karuppachan (Our indefatigable Driven- words ending with ‘r’ are plural in our language, so Driver is Plural Driven is singular as wonderful humorist VKN used to say) would make an entrance with some subtle remarks, intended as the gist of that day’s skit.

I now call him the ‘Sutradhar’. (The actor who presents the plot in Sanskrit plays.)

Then several characters would make entries, I admire the way the skits are enacted, even tones are carefully modulated, the whole settings would be carefully arranged, they usually move the furniture to suit their purpose.

There would be several summons for me from the Madam, the first thing is to divert my attention to some spurious things so I would be taken aback while the skit is being played.

I ignore such summons mostly, after querying her by way of mental telepathy.

The dialogue would go like this.

What is urgent? I will ask her.

(You need to know that all higher officials have some magnetism, and would respond if you query them on the inside. That comes with leadership qualities.)

She would say.

First you come.

I would say,

Not now my dear, I am engaged in something important, may be some time later.

Then she would send peons. (Peons only exist in India, they are very proud of their existence too. They now call themselves Class Four Officers)

You are being called.

I would smile at them.

In a minute my man, this will take just a minute.

He will go. After a while there would be a loud ringing of buzzers.

Another peon would come following that, repeating her summons.

I will say.

I was called? Oh, my god I forgot all about that, tell her that I will be there in a minute.

The technique is to be nice always. Never lose your cool. All the while I will be interrogating her telepathically.

What you want my dear?

She has a tolerably strong mind and wouldn’t divulge details. In fact women are more magnetic than men and know how to use it for their ends. I have met only very few men who have very strong minds. Others are just malleable notwithstanding the great importance they give themselves.

In her calls there would be nothing important, you can make anything important or not important by paying attention to it. A silly reminder could assume paramount importance in official life if correctly manipulated, at the same time the most serious of things could be pushed under the carpet if studiously ignored by all concerned.

Here she wants to drop something on to me to make me busy so that the skit would go on as planned.

The trick is to avoid that by all means. Despite my experience in such battles and the comparative strength of mind there are sticky situations in which you would come only second best in life if you jump into them without thinking.

So play for time, time is the factor which decides the outcome in any mental battle, it’s the best weapon in fact, if you can manipulate time to suit your interests others would start to feel the heat building up their funny womanish undersides. (This is no derogation of women; it’s only a classification of human traits)

They would start behaving like bitches in heat, moaning, getting impatient, restless, that’s when you strike. You face them head on while their defenses are down.

They got so impatient today that they started their skit without getting over the preliminaries and they were going to lose.

They brought in a guest artist and started their skit by his long harangue about what to be done to his dung (read files). This when no communications are directly received by our cowshed from the public and they have little right to state their case without being asked as we are a referral set up.

The guest artist started to ‘sing’ loudly without intermission, he went on for three hours like that( tremendous lung power) raising voice, giving directions, getting up a temper, losing cool, advancing demands, all the time making sure that he is near me, and touching me almost, being a cowshed one can’t oust him from there.

If I was doing something “urgent” as they planned for me, I could have been drawn in and become irritated as the time goes by. But as I was prepared I took up a pencil and began a tattoo on my table in the rhythm they use in trance inducing sessions all over the world, interspersing it with mental commands to the players now and then.

They got so fucked up by it that they tried to play their last card.

It’s a scent which begins as a mild invigorating one and brings on the head ache by its persistence, pumped out in various degrees of severity. Well this was tough, every one made they scarce from the scene as the scent was introduced.

This was the last card.

I knew that they were done for, so started on a yoga breathing technique which utilizes only the mouth temporarily closing the nostrils off. They persisted with the scent for an hour or so hoping that I would get a splitting head ache from it.

They could not continue it any longer because the cowshed being a public concern others could not be absent from their seats for long periods of time.

You should have seen their faces in the evening. It went like, grim, grimmer, grimmest, grimestest grimestestest grimestestestestestest………..

A strange case of filicide

Why do people do the things that they do?

There is this guy in my village. He was a primary school teacher once, perfectly nice, very decent to talk to, always in control and what you would hope for from a teacher of your little kids.

One day he took up his little girl in his lap and cut off her head. She was just one and half years old.

He said his goddess asked him to do it. He had a temple in the house and he was the high priest there.

He was set free after being treated for temporary insanity in one of the government institutions for a year and was not convicted. He then used to come to see my father almost every day to get his job back. My father was then holding the charge of Deputy Director of Education in the district the man was employed.

He told us that he is not under medication. He had the certificates to prove that too.

He appeared perfectly normal, only enough remorseful on the outside, used to address me in the same manner as before, asking about my studies and things like that.

My father was a kind man and wrote a favorable report citing the man’s temporary mental instability and recommending him to be re absorbed in to the service as he was cured of it.

But the Parent Teacher association at the school would not have any of that.

What if he has another attack of insanity, it was their children’s life at stake.

He is still in the village and has not shown any further problems, only people are a little wary of him.

I often think of him, I may have written of it before too, I would try to divine his state of mind at the time of the act and afterwards.

I can’t get any clue, does he rue the deed? What was this ‘direction’ of his goddess that he is talking about, was the action brought on by something else, like the unfaithfulness of the wife for example , he was comfortably well off, he did not even have to work to survive, so financial problems could not have been the cause.

Was he schizophrenic? (Don’t laugh, I don’t hold a doctorate in psychology and I have point to make) Did he see the goddess and hear her words? Schizoid personalities are said to experience such states. How is he coping up now with what he did? Does he feel a deep and continuing remorse still?


I am baffled, how does a sane man go and do something like that without showing any traces of it on the outside ever, or was he always ill and was shrewdly covering it up?

How can a man live after such a deed, is there something which erases such records from the mind?

Who knows!

It’s raining in our parts of the world.

Oh I like rain………
I like rain falling like shimmering iron sheets from the skies, I like it drizzling slowly in minute drops, I like it slanting away in air currents on the plains, I like rain falling like hail storms with fury and deadly intent, the rain that searches for us through open windows, roaring and thumping on the roof while we are within, crashing into us while driving, caressing us on a the hot summer noon coming totally unexpected, I like rain murmuring like our beloved on a pale evening while the day is ending, I like seeing it falling with hissing kisses on the surface of the water and gushing and gurgling through sewer pipes, nipping at the leaves of the trees out in the open, chortling through the passages that it created on the ground and becoming little pools in the sand, I like rain whooming and whooshing in the nights, love the rain which clings to the ankles and apparels of stunning girls, the sudden rain driving men and women into the shades they can find, rain clouding my helmet , the rain coming in great streams down the slopes in my ancestral home, sloshing and slopping in the mud, fogging over the fields in my country side, the rain sliding of the hoods of vehicles, streaming down from the faces of little kids who takes it all very importantly, flooding fields and making vehicles to be escorted across by people walking on both sides of the submerged roads, darkening the skies and the mind with faint dread , rain seen on a sea shore and while bathing in the sea, the rain starting and dying and starting and dying, rain going the whirl wind way, falling off trees, rain following the trains and bending back as we observe it, rattling on the window panes, making strangers acknowledge each other with faint smiles on their faces, making others move closer to us for warmth, rain weaving fantasies in our minds, bringing longing and remembrances, asking questions like ‘ Did I do right then?”, rain wetting palms and crinkling the skin up, running down the spine with fits and starts, spreading on the chest making noises with the clothing, rain coming and not reaching us, rain following us and leaving the places behind, rain seen on my beloveds face and tasteless on my tongue while I kiss her, rain muting all sounds, rain making the saplings bob and bob like a kid elephant, rain spreading like sweat on plantain leaves, moving in droplets over telephone and electrical wires, forming globules on the end of grass which children used to apply to their eyes, rain filling the ink stems which we applied on our slates when young, rain wetting our school books and satchels, filling the freshly ploughed fields so that the skies looked up to us from them, rain seen from afar, falling on distant mountains, filling ponds and wells, making the small fish and water snakes come out on the surface of water to breathe again and again, making the frogs start on a weird symphony, rain running down the trunks of trees, steaming on hot roads in summer, the new rain bringing that exhilarating earthy scent, drowning the paper boats I made in childhood, making my father buy new umbrellas which I never really used and forgot to bring home every time, making the old wooden doors in my country house very unruly to shut, rain washing the face of the earth and making everything appear new, rain falling through bright sunlight making the little children exclaim that the fox is getting married just then, rain making my feet chilly with its persistence, creeping through my arms to my body, drumming on upturned flower pots, rain which makes the night lights hazy, the new rain creating flies out of tiny ants, rain making my dog philosophical and glum, bringing on snails into the house which he doesn’t like, rain in the night with fire flies around, swaying with the trees, slow rain making them stand still as if in expectation of something, rain bringing in letters and news papers wet, creating headlines in TV, which floods the road in front, which brings everything with it while we stand watching the river in spate, cows, logs, pieces of clothing, plastic buckets, toys, uprooted trees, furniture, cans, floating dogs, rubber hoses, radios, napkins, card board packets, rain which turns off the power as if by magic, which makes us light candle sticks and peer at each other at night and making us say every now and then, “the damned fellows wouldn’t repair it in this rain”, that make the trains late and people lax, that makes the politicians come out of their shell and forces them to make statements like “ the roads are being cleared manually and a special action committee has been convened to monitor the progress” which makes the ministers fly to the capital to seek assistance for damages right after they have been back from a visit to claim assistance for drought, rain which makes the electricity minister say things like “ There is enough rain in the catchment area of the dams, but the silt may make it impossible to collect them in our fragile dams” and which makes the authorities say, “ we have no other option but to open the shutters to avoid serious complications, so the public may be inconvenienced for the next two or three days ……….”

Oh I like rain and the troubles it brings. To our poor tropical hearts rain is a sentiment, it’s a part of our sensibility, it sensitizes us to the finer feelings, it pours directly into our hearts and floods it with new shoots of creativity, see, it even brought out the poor poet in me, though the guy is ashamed to be seen………

The How of it

Really how do I write? (It’s a double edged question I know but I am going to take only one edge this time)

Well how? That is, how do I write?

It seems to be like an internal stream with me, my thoughts flow just like that, in the most natural of ways, they jump from this to that, that to the other, it’s a sort of monkey prose, there may not be any discernible order and recognizable pattern. Of course they are not the grandest of thoughts they have been called senseless before.

I am not saying everyone should follow my example. Let the others write the classics and the important things.

But I beg of you, just try writing rubbish some time. Everyone can write the other stuff, the serious stuff. Try writing stuff for change. Bet you won’t be able to go through with the exercise. You will feel buffeted by unseen forces, chained to unbreakable barriers, you would feel fear, terror and horror.

How many of you would dare do that?

Some don’t like this silly attitude of mine, they are the serious types. They want moving and vibrant stuff on display. Alright, even I can do that, in fact everyone can do that. Writing serious stuff is the easiest of all things, you have models before you, you have the words and expressions before you, you just need to arrange them in the most acceptable format and you are done.

But the problem with me is that I rely more on the unconscious rather than on the conscious. All great writers do, but saying this does not make me a great writer. I don’t even want to be called a writer , all I am doing is to express myself, may be in the way the expressionists do. I etch impressions, may be they are sketchy, there may even be big gaps in them, in ideation, in execution, there may be chunks missing.

Well you know that is what you guys are for, I work with the assumption that the readers, even me while reading it sometime after are much more intelligent than the writer , they bring their life into it, their knowledge and information into it. Like T. S Eliot used to say poetry grows and achieve greater mass as time passes. I don’t know if I am using the exact expression that he used, but the meaning was the newer readers would bring their awareness into the work of art.

That is what I am aiming for; I would like to provide a mere skeleton to them to work with, to make them bring in their feelings, experiences, world views and enrich it. I would like to provide a mere frame work to weave their dreams on. Dreams? Yes dreams, dreams need not always be pleasant.

Don’t confuse it with the body of writing of Saussure et al. Their work begins after the scribes work is finished, mine goes the other way round. It offers a chunk of raw meat ( that is, if you are a non-veg, let it be a shapeless roll of dough for the veggies) you can add any ingredients to it cook it , burn it, roll it over stakes, steam it or do anything you want( in your minds of course).

That is all there to it. But this doesn’t say anything about the delight I get from writing. Why do I do it? What do I get out of it? Words, nothing but words, I am an inept version of Keats in that regard. I may not have his command over words, but I am not a lesser devotee.