The love-hate relationship between me and my dearest annihilators have gone through many phases by now. The sorry thing is that we do not respect each other enough, may be I am guilty of not respecting them at all, being not at all sentimental where my opponents are concerned( The kids I recently made friends with over the net are excluded, I have never considered them my enemies, though I would have still liked to vex them now and then! I wouldn’t mind what they do to me too, even if they kill me outright! I am saying this because they might take it to heart if I did not mention it here!).
I would like to trace the strange relationship between me and my predators through one recent incident.
For the last few months I had shown considerable interest in IQ tests. I wanted to learn that whether I had an IQ at all. I searched on the net for every free test on it and took them all. I tried to fail at every IQ Test I took at first (may be, I did not have to try at all!) knowing that every move I make on the net is being scrupulously monitored by my friends the predators. I got lovely scores of below 60 in most of them. I was thrilled, but not my darling killers, they were adamant that I was a genius. I knew the predicament they were in. They couldn’t hunt and destroy an imbecile. That would be too uninspiring and dull. It was a question of their ego. They wanted a good fight. If they could make themselves believe that I am star material and dangerous, the hunt is that much more interesting and justifiable. So they try hard to boost my confidence level up from time to time.
I felt sorry for them and started to score in the region of 120+. Even that did not satisfy them. I tried to pacify them by getting into two high IQ societies on the net. But no they would not be satisfied. They want me to take the supervised MENSA test. They are pretty confident that I would get in easily. In fact they think that I belong to elite class coming in the 99th percentile in the world. I am not budging currently, but who knows, my vanity might take over and I might do it too, with these guys to boost up my ego anything is possible!
But how do they get these messages across to me? It is like in that parable in which the man sitting under a tree hears some birds over head speak about him. There are other methods too. Well that is another matter altogether.
The strange thing is that I was never confident about the power of my intellect at anytime in my life. As far back as I can remember I had always felt terribly dumb. Honestly that might be the truth. While at school all the others seemed much more intelligent than me. In the class I would be the only one who did not know the answer to the questions which was put to me. I would be mopping all the time, constructing strange and improbable fantasies inside my head. Yet unbelievably I used to score more marks than others in the tests and that used to astound me no end, I ascribed that to luck entirely.
There were also a few people who called me intelligent when I was young; I had always doubted that it was a joke.
The troubles and travails I underwent to make myself intelligent on those words! I can not remember all those futile years without a shudder. I read and read, spent hours bent over books, from Kapila to Sankara, from republic to future shock, but to what gain I wonder? I became more bogged down than I was before with all that information crammed in to my brain. They took up a lot of space inside and I did not feel wonderful at all. I thought they did not answer the one question on which I was concerned about- the meaning of life.
I think I liked Zeno best among the old Greeks I read, perhaps because of his leaning towards our own style of thought (cultural bias probably!) That parable about the circles still intrigues me.
I greatly relished Voltaire’s irreverence. Candide is a great favorite of mine still.
For the rest, I preferred the dialectical approach the best, still do. I wonder where all those other words went. I could condense all those hours into these three or four lines! Not much learned it seems!
My very lovable enemies seem to be in error. I am afraid I am not very bright, I am still blundering along the mazes created by human intellect, learning nothing. Intelligent? Not at all my learned colleagues! May be my newly acquired friends would supply me with enough acronyms to combat that gross accusation.
But there is still a chance that there could be some one more intelligent within me (or is it more precise to say “with” me?). I might have told the tale many times before now. Yet….
From the moment of my first memories, I have felt a division inside me. There were always two beings within me. One, some sort of a witness, watching every single move that I and others make and the other the real person who is called by my name and who acts as me. (This is no Locke, Olson and Snowdon my friends, it is not a theoretical postulate, it’s a damn reality)
This witness who is within me, always have absolute detachment from everything that I do, it does not say anything, do not interfere in anything, but is always watching, thinking how absurd this all is. It wonders what this person is doing, what the others are doing, why all these deeds feel utterly meaningless to it.
This entity has been the greatest impediment in my progress in everything, It doesn’t approve of anything in the world, it is the eternal misanthropist, and looks down upon anything the poor mortals do. I have never been able to establish who this entity is. Is it a part of me or something higher or different than me? What is it, man, spirit, a part of my consciousness, or the whole of consciousness, is it a case of split personality- the MPS?
Whatever it is, it is ever watching, and grading my moves, the shrewder I try to become the harder it laughs, this laugh is not an audible or perceptible laugh, it is some kind of a deeply philosophical laughter, some supreme mirth it only knows how to make. I feel it despises me and my puny attempts at making sense out of the nonsense I experience. Or is it me despising myself? Could it be like what Spinoza said?
That “one who despises himself is nearest to a proud man?”
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Monday, October 13, 2008
"Totally Ignorungs"
There is this wonderful rite among the Parsees; they leave their dead for the vultures to feed on.
It shows love for an animal people generally dislike.
Did I say “Animal”? I must have erred.
[Roar:
“Did you consult the visual thesaurus, minion”
I shake like a leaf (frr…shoosh ….mrrr…..jrrrr) “No I didn’t monsieur”
“Nor the Britannia…?”
“I was on social security”
“What”
“I did not have the money to buy biscuits”
“You super dense dotard, it is not biscuitary, it is a bloody dictionary
Oh I am terribly sorry, I didn’t milord
“WHY?”
“I was jijnoranj”
“What did you just say?”
“That I wos ignorungs?”
“YEAH”
“I wos totally ignorungs”
“Oh I see you were ignorant that such things existed?”
“I wos. I wos very much, right onerous knight of the holy empire,
Is that a shin sir?”
Indubitably, dolt, indubitably]
I am shaking in my tattered boots (I am all feverish and shivering uncontrollably) yet I can but hold on to my view.
Birds are animals too, according to the dictionary of the less wise.
Of course they can even be groomed, bathed, spruced up and even be placed on a throne.
And vultures are what? BIRDS.
Eureka!
Yes, yes, there are vultures and vultures. Some feed on decaying flesh, some on other things.
I have had the occasion to meet vultures in human form.
Pretty nauseating, to tell you the truth (truth? What in the name of hell is that?)
Have you seen a human vulture? May I point one out to you?
[“You eternal imbecile, you have no right to call us that!”
“Not even as per the right to information activation monsieur?”
“Veritably”
“That’s horriblific”]
Good god if I am not permitted to talk about vultures, what would I talk about?
It shows love for an animal people generally dislike.
Did I say “Animal”? I must have erred.
[Roar:
“Did you consult the visual thesaurus, minion”
I shake like a leaf (frr…shoosh ….mrrr…..jrrrr) “No I didn’t monsieur”
“Nor the Britannia…?”
“I was on social security”
“What”
“I did not have the money to buy biscuits”
“You super dense dotard, it is not biscuitary, it is a bloody dictionary
Oh I am terribly sorry, I didn’t milord
“WHY?”
“I was jijnoranj”
“What did you just say?”
“That I wos ignorungs?”
“YEAH”
“I wos totally ignorungs”
“Oh I see you were ignorant that such things existed?”
“I wos. I wos very much, right onerous knight of the holy empire,
Is that a shin sir?”
Indubitably, dolt, indubitably]
I am shaking in my tattered boots (I am all feverish and shivering uncontrollably) yet I can but hold on to my view.
Birds are animals too, according to the dictionary of the less wise.
Of course they can even be groomed, bathed, spruced up and even be placed on a throne.
And vultures are what? BIRDS.
Eureka!
Yes, yes, there are vultures and vultures. Some feed on decaying flesh, some on other things.
I have had the occasion to meet vultures in human form.
Pretty nauseating, to tell you the truth (truth? What in the name of hell is that?)
Have you seen a human vulture? May I point one out to you?
[“You eternal imbecile, you have no right to call us that!”
“Not even as per the right to information activation monsieur?”
“Veritably”
“That’s horriblific”]
Good god if I am not permitted to talk about vultures, what would I talk about?
Sunday, October 12, 2008
The Truth about my Blog
All that you see in this blog may not be what they seem to be at the first glance.
I have a reason for saying this.
Recently, every post I previously wrote on this blog has been put under a microscope and was found utterly defective by some innocent people!
I wrote about cruelty in one of them
Some highly intelligent readers assumed that I am completely at sea as far as word meanings and researching them in the dictionary was concerned.
I can’t blame them of course, for they are entirely in the right about the post.
All hell broke loose at certain quarters about it, it seems,
-and about some of my other posts too!
It was all highly interesting and dramatic; I enjoyed it a great deal.
The question they should have asked themselves was this
-Would anyone commit such blunders just like that?
No they would not.
There could be some purpose behind such obvious gaffes.
The fact is this.
To me, what I write in the blog is not important
WHY I WRITE is more important.
And keeping on writing is of utmost importance.
It is about a war that they would not understand.
-and it is also not their war.
They are all very serious about life,
I like them and would not want them to be hurt for their contact with me.
I did not want to drag them into it in the first place,
but they became curious and what can I do about that.
This war is very real for me
-and I worry that these innocents would also become a part of it.
My regular readership is highly exclusive and they are dangerous.
They are not the type to leave comments.
My posts are a game that I play with them.
I write for them alone.
This blog thus is an instrument of war.
When they look for a weakness in me (in intellect, emotional life, anything)
I provide them with it through my postings.
When they jump for joy because I have become weak,
I go hard at them.
They want to shut the blog down.
They have tried to do it before.
They haven’t succeeded.
I am forcing their hands to do something drastic.
We both pretend on the surface that nothing of the sort is happening.
I did not start this blog to illuminate anybody or boast about my literary talent.
It had a definite purpose behind it. Keeping myself alive was not the least of it!
To them it is a business deal, a contract.
To me it’s my bloody life.
Everything I do on the net has a definite purpose behind them.
I had planned to ditch the blog the moment I achieved one part of my aim, to start on something else.
That is, to make them show their hand to me.
I think I have achieved that.
I am not a bad strategist.
I usually achieve what I set out to achieve, single finger or not.
I might deny everything I have written today and say something else tomorrow.
It is all in the game.
This post is also a move in the game.
If you want, you are welcome to watch it. But don’t take part in the real game or take it all to heart.
The better posts I have written (on Yoga and mind control etc, that is if the are good at all!)
-Can be taken quite seriously
-For they are written to assert myself over my friends the contractors.
But be choosey what you pick from the dishes that I serve!
Good day my sweet friends, I am sorry if you are disappointed in me.
I have a reason for saying this.
Recently, every post I previously wrote on this blog has been put under a microscope and was found utterly defective by some innocent people!
I wrote about cruelty in one of them
Some highly intelligent readers assumed that I am completely at sea as far as word meanings and researching them in the dictionary was concerned.
I can’t blame them of course, for they are entirely in the right about the post.
All hell broke loose at certain quarters about it, it seems,
-and about some of my other posts too!
It was all highly interesting and dramatic; I enjoyed it a great deal.
The question they should have asked themselves was this
-Would anyone commit such blunders just like that?
No they would not.
There could be some purpose behind such obvious gaffes.
The fact is this.
To me, what I write in the blog is not important
WHY I WRITE is more important.
And keeping on writing is of utmost importance.
It is about a war that they would not understand.
-and it is also not their war.
They are all very serious about life,
I like them and would not want them to be hurt for their contact with me.
I did not want to drag them into it in the first place,
but they became curious and what can I do about that.
This war is very real for me
-and I worry that these innocents would also become a part of it.
My regular readership is highly exclusive and they are dangerous.
They are not the type to leave comments.
My posts are a game that I play with them.
I write for them alone.
This blog thus is an instrument of war.
When they look for a weakness in me (in intellect, emotional life, anything)
I provide them with it through my postings.
When they jump for joy because I have become weak,
I go hard at them.
They want to shut the blog down.
They have tried to do it before.
They haven’t succeeded.
I am forcing their hands to do something drastic.
We both pretend on the surface that nothing of the sort is happening.
I did not start this blog to illuminate anybody or boast about my literary talent.
It had a definite purpose behind it. Keeping myself alive was not the least of it!
To them it is a business deal, a contract.
To me it’s my bloody life.
Everything I do on the net has a definite purpose behind them.
I had planned to ditch the blog the moment I achieved one part of my aim, to start on something else.
That is, to make them show their hand to me.
I think I have achieved that.
I am not a bad strategist.
I usually achieve what I set out to achieve, single finger or not.
I might deny everything I have written today and say something else tomorrow.
It is all in the game.
This post is also a move in the game.
If you want, you are welcome to watch it. But don’t take part in the real game or take it all to heart.
The better posts I have written (on Yoga and mind control etc, that is if the are good at all!)
-Can be taken quite seriously
-For they are written to assert myself over my friends the contractors.
But be choosey what you pick from the dishes that I serve!
Good day my sweet friends, I am sorry if you are disappointed in me.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
In Defense of Nonsense
[As the scene opens you hear,
Voices:
“Off with his head”
“The impostor,”
“The idolater (he believes in Buddha of all people)”
“The primordial biped”
“The bloody illiterate injian”
Then there is a scuffle, something falls down, and some one is seen running.
Enter on stage, the Scribe in abject terror, running for dear life, holding dearly on to the dilapidated computer of his, trying to type in words with a single digit in his hand. (He hasn’t learned typing; it’s an uphill task every time he tries to type anything)
Sounds of running feet coming nearer, the scribe cowers, and runs to a corner of stage trying furiously to finish what he was doing.
Enter on stage armed: Men and women boys and girls.
There is laughter and animated conversations,
Some of them shout.
Draw your weapons
Several draw their acronyms, and witticisms, glistening like sabers.
Shouts of “ Kill, kill “
They lunge in unison
The Scrivener falls, all bloodied over.
The scene darkens; infinite bathos is playing in the back ground.
When the scene lights up some one is rummaging in a garbage bin. He comes up with a machine, flat and damaged.
He opens it up and begins to read:]
"IN DEFENSE OF NONSENSE
I was reading Rebeca, and I was entranced.
How beautifully the prose moves,
rhythmic, undulating, shedding liquid light on unseen and minute substructure of sensitive experience.
[Oh God did I just write that, what would the Madame say?]
What a wonderful name -Daphne du…..Maurier …..Brings Eliot and scriptures back ….damyata ….
[You loafer, think you are him, who shook his spear during the reign of our majesty the queen Vittorio de sica?
Don’t be bombastic.
Eliot indeed,
and that da da da is from the epic Gilgamesh, not from any horrible injian scriptures.
I studied it for great many years at the Universal City]
Have I read Rebeca before?
May be, but it appears fresh at every new look.
-Oh no, I do not care for the slushy romanticism in the story,
romance murders me,
I am an unabashed believer in practical life.
(Don’t read too much into it, I am not amoral and even immoral)
I too had once caught the fever of platonic love in my teens, (damn Plato)
my, the pain and torment I underwent on those days!
It still brings tears of pity into my eyes for my former self.
-Platonic relationships- whew, not in the case of love my man, not in the case of love, may be in everything else.
As I had once fallen into the trap I was over cautious on all other occasions.
There was this incident where I was in a train at night and had the ill luck (others might call it sheer bliss) to get acquainted with a girl on the next birth.
I can’t sleep on a train,
it reminds me of cradles and rocking of mothers and aunts and women in general and about all who picks you up when you are little to pat, cuddle, squeeze, poke their noses into you and generally have fun with the soft little body. {Madame, my apologies again]
- It makes me feel helpless and dispirited.
- I need firm ground beneath me to sleep.
Well there was this girl and we got talking.
She was to get off the train some where in the middle of the night and so was sitting with eyes wide open
- and they were good eyes too, judging by the passing lights from stations.
Our portion was totally dark;
the holder of the bulb looked like an inverted mammary gland.
(Strong maternal imagery all through the post I see!)
[You mope; you said it was totally dark,
how did you see the holder then?
-Your esteemed honor, may I invite your kind attention to an earlier reference that I had the occasion to make?
-That of the passing lights?
I have 20/20 vision my lord.
I could see even in pitch darkness, or so some sweet nymphs say]
All the other wonderful people around us were sleeping as if they were doing their major in sleep and all else was subsidiary( may be they studied at the Universal City too)
- such was their total involvement in the sweet repose.
So she was in the middle birth and I was on the lower,
I was talking to her standing up out of politeness.
- Any thing could have happened then you know, other than the most bizarre, the proximity was such.
I had to struggle with the real villain inside me.
I was learning it the hard way that sometimes even faint smells would make people go crazy.
She was swishing the hair around a lot too. (Was it intentional?)
What the bloody hell…
Now she slithered down and sat on by birth and suddenly came up with a line which I hold in holy dread.
“You know, it is as if we have known each other for a long time.”
Lord God Almighty,
(this comes of being decent! she had me measured)
I bolted under the pretext of lighting a cigarette and had to spend rest of the time
(till she left the train)
in the corridor, praying to every known deity that she wouldn’t push any further on it,
and talking to some bums loitering there with an occasional nod to her from a distance.
Later that night I wished her good bye at last
( being of a good sort I had assisted her with her baggage too)
and she introduced me to her brother,
man, I had a terrible time 'hum'ing and 'haw'ing to him on the platform to dispel any doubts that he may hold of having something of the matrimonial line in the incident
-There was nothing wrong with her credentials mind you.
Employed, educated (she even taught me how to spell Quasi Govt- I wonder how that came up),
sensitive, (“there is moonlight outside isn’t there?”
Oh man, I can tell you, that one was tough under the circumstances.
It seemed pitch black to me all the time)
Not bad looking either,
somewhat wheat complexioned,
small in figure
(Me, 5 / 11 and a half inches, could turn a heavy iron rod umpteen times over head-
you get the idea, I hope
- would be the first to run in any dangerous situations too!)
small hands and feet,
nails polished black
(hate nail polish on women and abhor on men, some men in the country side have this habit.
My soul shudders at it every time I view one.)
Had great loads of hair and two very good eyes.
Nobody feels bad when such treasures fall into their laps out of the blue except perhaps yours truly.
No, no, don’t even dare to go there!
I can bring whole constellations into being if I want to.
At the time I was speaking of, I could have generated the bloody cosmic evolution it self.
-Man, you have to stop raising your eyebrows like that and mumbling,
“You hooded egotistical …….”,
I may have some chauvinism in me but it is not chronic and untreatable.
My fear of a girl’s affection stems from two other things altogether;
one is the great fear of responsibility.
Though I might tow the line once I was really caught,
I preferred not be caught at all and the other is this inherent weakness of mine,
can’t say no to a girl who professes to like me.
I can never be firm in such cases and would go through terrifying internal conflicts if I did,
having absolutely no judgment on these.
I still remember the incident when a girl offered me sweets at school and I had brashly declined it out of pride.
I thought she was not my type, if I had known any better then!
Whenever I recall it, I still sweat blood for my insensitiveness to her.
No kidding man, no one knows how I regretted it afterwards,
she would have long forgotten it by now, but not me my friends!
I had too many such experiences in my life with girls, not that I am an Apollo in human attire
- I have seen Vishnu Narayanan Namboodiri look like a trillion bucks at the age of fifty-five-
It was a very sobering experience.
I am not hideous to look at, that is all.
But I wonder why it is always the other way round in my case all the time.
Normally men chase girls,
well, surprisingly every girl I got a little close to, sort of wants to cuddle me and play with me all the time!
(I must say that those that I keep at a distance hate me like hell,
or usually manage to portray that they do.
Some even glower at me for no reason at all!
Why I wonder!)
I may have the Eternal Child in me,
and may be I am projecting my child unbeknownst to myself to all and sundry.
I could gauge the maternal feeling coming through in them almost always,
there would be the gentle smile, the wistful look, the change in tone the sigh and the slight but ever so slight leaning towards me.
I hate that when it happens.
The end"
The man stopped reading and threw the note- book back into the bin.
He sighed:
“Lies are always more attractive than the truth.”
As the light slowly fades on stage he starts to sing.
“If non-sense could turn into petty pence
This man had it in abundance.
As the matter stands, he uttered sense
And was done in for his foolish-ness “
Closing chant as the curtain falls:
“He was pretty dense, he was pretty dense
He was pretty dense, he was pretty dense”
Finis
I
Voices:
“Off with his head”
“The impostor,”
“The idolater (he believes in Buddha of all people)”
“The primordial biped”
“The bloody illiterate injian”
Then there is a scuffle, something falls down, and some one is seen running.
Enter on stage, the Scribe in abject terror, running for dear life, holding dearly on to the dilapidated computer of his, trying to type in words with a single digit in his hand. (He hasn’t learned typing; it’s an uphill task every time he tries to type anything)
Sounds of running feet coming nearer, the scribe cowers, and runs to a corner of stage trying furiously to finish what he was doing.
Enter on stage armed: Men and women boys and girls.
There is laughter and animated conversations,
Some of them shout.
Draw your weapons
Several draw their acronyms, and witticisms, glistening like sabers.
Shouts of “ Kill, kill “
They lunge in unison
The Scrivener falls, all bloodied over.
The scene darkens; infinite bathos is playing in the back ground.
When the scene lights up some one is rummaging in a garbage bin. He comes up with a machine, flat and damaged.
He opens it up and begins to read:]
"IN DEFENSE OF NONSENSE
I was reading Rebeca, and I was entranced.
How beautifully the prose moves,
rhythmic, undulating, shedding liquid light on unseen and minute substructure of sensitive experience.
[Oh God did I just write that, what would the Madame say?]
What a wonderful name -Daphne du…..Maurier …..Brings Eliot and scriptures back ….damyata ….
[You loafer, think you are him, who shook his spear during the reign of our majesty the queen Vittorio de sica?
Don’t be bombastic.
Eliot indeed,
and that da da da is from the epic Gilgamesh, not from any horrible injian scriptures.
I studied it for great many years at the Universal City]
Have I read Rebeca before?
May be, but it appears fresh at every new look.
-Oh no, I do not care for the slushy romanticism in the story,
romance murders me,
I am an unabashed believer in practical life.
(Don’t read too much into it, I am not amoral and even immoral)
I too had once caught the fever of platonic love in my teens, (damn Plato)
my, the pain and torment I underwent on those days!
It still brings tears of pity into my eyes for my former self.
-Platonic relationships- whew, not in the case of love my man, not in the case of love, may be in everything else.
As I had once fallen into the trap I was over cautious on all other occasions.
There was this incident where I was in a train at night and had the ill luck (others might call it sheer bliss) to get acquainted with a girl on the next birth.
I can’t sleep on a train,
it reminds me of cradles and rocking of mothers and aunts and women in general and about all who picks you up when you are little to pat, cuddle, squeeze, poke their noses into you and generally have fun with the soft little body. {Madame, my apologies again]
- It makes me feel helpless and dispirited.
- I need firm ground beneath me to sleep.
Well there was this girl and we got talking.
She was to get off the train some where in the middle of the night and so was sitting with eyes wide open
- and they were good eyes too, judging by the passing lights from stations.
Our portion was totally dark;
the holder of the bulb looked like an inverted mammary gland.
(Strong maternal imagery all through the post I see!)
[You mope; you said it was totally dark,
how did you see the holder then?
-Your esteemed honor, may I invite your kind attention to an earlier reference that I had the occasion to make?
-That of the passing lights?
I have 20/20 vision my lord.
I could see even in pitch darkness, or so some sweet nymphs say]
All the other wonderful people around us were sleeping as if they were doing their major in sleep and all else was subsidiary( may be they studied at the Universal City too)
- such was their total involvement in the sweet repose.
So she was in the middle birth and I was on the lower,
I was talking to her standing up out of politeness.
- Any thing could have happened then you know, other than the most bizarre, the proximity was such.
I had to struggle with the real villain inside me.
I was learning it the hard way that sometimes even faint smells would make people go crazy.
She was swishing the hair around a lot too. (Was it intentional?)
What the bloody hell…
Now she slithered down and sat on by birth and suddenly came up with a line which I hold in holy dread.
“You know, it is as if we have known each other for a long time.”
Lord God Almighty,
(this comes of being decent! she had me measured)
I bolted under the pretext of lighting a cigarette and had to spend rest of the time
(till she left the train)
in the corridor, praying to every known deity that she wouldn’t push any further on it,
and talking to some bums loitering there with an occasional nod to her from a distance.
Later that night I wished her good bye at last
( being of a good sort I had assisted her with her baggage too)
and she introduced me to her brother,
man, I had a terrible time 'hum'ing and 'haw'ing to him on the platform to dispel any doubts that he may hold of having something of the matrimonial line in the incident
-There was nothing wrong with her credentials mind you.
Employed, educated (she even taught me how to spell Quasi Govt- I wonder how that came up),
sensitive, (“there is moonlight outside isn’t there?”
Oh man, I can tell you, that one was tough under the circumstances.
It seemed pitch black to me all the time)
Not bad looking either,
somewhat wheat complexioned,
small in figure
(Me, 5 / 11 and a half inches, could turn a heavy iron rod umpteen times over head-
you get the idea, I hope
- would be the first to run in any dangerous situations too!)
small hands and feet,
nails polished black
(hate nail polish on women and abhor on men, some men in the country side have this habit.
My soul shudders at it every time I view one.)
Had great loads of hair and two very good eyes.
Nobody feels bad when such treasures fall into their laps out of the blue except perhaps yours truly.
No, no, don’t even dare to go there!
I can bring whole constellations into being if I want to.
At the time I was speaking of, I could have generated the bloody cosmic evolution it self.
-Man, you have to stop raising your eyebrows like that and mumbling,
“You hooded egotistical …….”,
I may have some chauvinism in me but it is not chronic and untreatable.
My fear of a girl’s affection stems from two other things altogether;
one is the great fear of responsibility.
Though I might tow the line once I was really caught,
I preferred not be caught at all and the other is this inherent weakness of mine,
can’t say no to a girl who professes to like me.
I can never be firm in such cases and would go through terrifying internal conflicts if I did,
having absolutely no judgment on these.
I still remember the incident when a girl offered me sweets at school and I had brashly declined it out of pride.
I thought she was not my type, if I had known any better then!
Whenever I recall it, I still sweat blood for my insensitiveness to her.
No kidding man, no one knows how I regretted it afterwards,
she would have long forgotten it by now, but not me my friends!
I had too many such experiences in my life with girls, not that I am an Apollo in human attire
- I have seen Vishnu Narayanan Namboodiri look like a trillion bucks at the age of fifty-five-
It was a very sobering experience.
I am not hideous to look at, that is all.
But I wonder why it is always the other way round in my case all the time.
Normally men chase girls,
well, surprisingly every girl I got a little close to, sort of wants to cuddle me and play with me all the time!
(I must say that those that I keep at a distance hate me like hell,
or usually manage to portray that they do.
Some even glower at me for no reason at all!
Why I wonder!)
I may have the Eternal Child in me,
and may be I am projecting my child unbeknownst to myself to all and sundry.
I could gauge the maternal feeling coming through in them almost always,
there would be the gentle smile, the wistful look, the change in tone the sigh and the slight but ever so slight leaning towards me.
I hate that when it happens.
The end"
The man stopped reading and threw the note- book back into the bin.
He sighed:
“Lies are always more attractive than the truth.”
As the light slowly fades on stage he starts to sing.
“If non-sense could turn into petty pence
This man had it in abundance.
As the matter stands, he uttered sense
And was done in for his foolish-ness “
Closing chant as the curtain falls:
“He was pretty dense, he was pretty dense
He was pretty dense, he was pretty dense”
Finis
I
Sunday, October 5, 2008
The Question of Privacy
[The over lords of the globe Speak:
You dumb ass, why did you start a blog in the first place and name it thus?
As a penance for our kind acceptance of you and your lassitude and your utter disregard for what is happening around you?
Such utter nonsense you mute, you should have kept quite, for words that matter would issue only from our silken lips, not from you, not from some stupid ape (oh apes are welcome as long as they are servile and as long as they are not parasites), we hold the rights for every word you utter (Don’t even “utter” nonsense, don’t even dare, that too belongs to our forte!)
You have no rights what so ever, get it into your head, you have not been allowed into the fortress of wisdom, you are an out cast, dig your hole in the ground and we might, just might, take compassion on you and pour some gruel into it.
Drink it like it is the very nectar, you minion, and be satisfied with your low grade existence.
The audacity, the total neglect for the gods of this earth- can any one believe it? See how we glitter, see how we lighten up the place we are in, see how superior we are, and how even our basest inanities become like the choicest wisdom in the whole universe.
Dare you say you knew Einstein, even if he had come up with that quote equating the human stupidity with that of the vastness of universe, excluding only himself from it, Even if we shunted him from school to school because of his inborn stupidity, for we knew him thoroughly and you not?]
And now to you direct, fair friend,
What I did find in you, wise friend, and that could be because I haven’t looked any further, was a certain charm in your words.
When I see something like the following lines, written by O.V. Usha;
“Oh I am without words…..! look,
blossoms fair, and radiant, on the wayside!”
(Inept translation! poetry can not be translated the wise say!)
-Perhaps you can do it better than me I hope? Here are the original Malayalam lines (this is not a dig at your great wisdom by any means!)
(VAKKUKALILLA….
VELUTHU VIRINJORU POOKKALITHA VAZHIVAKKIL.)
When I view these lines, I don’t exactly go into rapture, but they shake up my being somewhat.
Usha was not writing a Haiku, yet it brings back memories of Basho.
“When I look carefully, I see a nazzuna
Blooming by the hedge.”
They were not out to take advantage of anything. They found something curious, where others would have found something very normal. No one need have worried; it is not a galacticaly dangerous practice. It’s only a personal point of view. It definitely did not hold any element of possessiveness in it.
For, they did not want to pluck the flowers and make them their own, they were only glad those existed. Some may call it metaphysics. I wonder too, could it be some sort of physics- a physics of awareness rather than an awareness of physique…….?
But then alas, perception always requires something visible before it (like the nazzuna or the fair flowers), though not necessarily tangible, like the chilling touch of an ellipsis.
I couldn’t be a Basho or Usha but I thought I had found something nice. It reminded me of some one who did the impossible in this land, (These are honest words; don’t defile them with an acronym). Perhaps you know who I am referring to, for you seem to have all the dope on me.
Perhaps I was wrong. Or was I? As I said, it is a matter of personal view point….and not a matter of my bestial preferences.
My personal world has nothing to do with yours. So don’t play with it even for popularity’s sake for the single reason that I was perhaps inept to believe in you.
I was delighted in a good way. That is all there to it. There was nothing mystical or platonic in it.
Here are those wonderful lines once again.
“When I look carefully, I see a nazzuna
Blooming by the hedge.”
They are not mine as you know, but they could have been mine. They reflect my attitude in a nutshell. I hold no rancor. You are young and impressionable,
and I am as old as the world.
Make anything you wish of it.
You dumb ass, why did you start a blog in the first place and name it thus?
As a penance for our kind acceptance of you and your lassitude and your utter disregard for what is happening around you?
Such utter nonsense you mute, you should have kept quite, for words that matter would issue only from our silken lips, not from you, not from some stupid ape (oh apes are welcome as long as they are servile and as long as they are not parasites), we hold the rights for every word you utter (Don’t even “utter” nonsense, don’t even dare, that too belongs to our forte!)
You have no rights what so ever, get it into your head, you have not been allowed into the fortress of wisdom, you are an out cast, dig your hole in the ground and we might, just might, take compassion on you and pour some gruel into it.
Drink it like it is the very nectar, you minion, and be satisfied with your low grade existence.
The audacity, the total neglect for the gods of this earth- can any one believe it? See how we glitter, see how we lighten up the place we are in, see how superior we are, and how even our basest inanities become like the choicest wisdom in the whole universe.
Dare you say you knew Einstein, even if he had come up with that quote equating the human stupidity with that of the vastness of universe, excluding only himself from it, Even if we shunted him from school to school because of his inborn stupidity, for we knew him thoroughly and you not?]
And now to you direct, fair friend,
What I did find in you, wise friend, and that could be because I haven’t looked any further, was a certain charm in your words.
When I see something like the following lines, written by O.V. Usha;
“Oh I am without words…..! look,
blossoms fair, and radiant, on the wayside!”
(Inept translation! poetry can not be translated the wise say!)
-Perhaps you can do it better than me I hope? Here are the original Malayalam lines (this is not a dig at your great wisdom by any means!)
(VAKKUKALILLA….
VELUTHU VIRINJORU POOKKALITHA VAZHIVAKKIL.)
When I view these lines, I don’t exactly go into rapture, but they shake up my being somewhat.
Usha was not writing a Haiku, yet it brings back memories of Basho.
“When I look carefully, I see a nazzuna
Blooming by the hedge.”
They were not out to take advantage of anything. They found something curious, where others would have found something very normal. No one need have worried; it is not a galacticaly dangerous practice. It’s only a personal point of view. It definitely did not hold any element of possessiveness in it.
For, they did not want to pluck the flowers and make them their own, they were only glad those existed. Some may call it metaphysics. I wonder too, could it be some sort of physics- a physics of awareness rather than an awareness of physique…….?
But then alas, perception always requires something visible before it (like the nazzuna or the fair flowers), though not necessarily tangible, like the chilling touch of an ellipsis.
I couldn’t be a Basho or Usha but I thought I had found something nice. It reminded me of some one who did the impossible in this land, (These are honest words; don’t defile them with an acronym). Perhaps you know who I am referring to, for you seem to have all the dope on me.
Perhaps I was wrong. Or was I? As I said, it is a matter of personal view point….and not a matter of my bestial preferences.
My personal world has nothing to do with yours. So don’t play with it even for popularity’s sake for the single reason that I was perhaps inept to believe in you.
I was delighted in a good way. That is all there to it. There was nothing mystical or platonic in it.
Here are those wonderful lines once again.
“When I look carefully, I see a nazzuna
Blooming by the hedge.”
They are not mine as you know, but they could have been mine. They reflect my attitude in a nutshell. I hold no rancor. You are young and impressionable,
and I am as old as the world.
Make anything you wish of it.
I AM WHAT I AM
Whew, got it in the mid ribs!
-I am breathless, I am devastated.
Good lord, who knew that my poor posts would become a global event!
Oh, my fair (and not so fair) friends,
- I give you my solemn assurance,
-I wouldn’t be on that thing for gazillion (favorite expression of my little nephew, meaning endless I suppose!) multiplied by quadrillion, quadrillion …..quadrillion Kuwaiti Dinars!
I feel truly infinitesimal
- dismal would have been the more appropriate word but …
I will let that go for now.
Yet how can I let go of my embarrassment in front of the loving soul that is with me,
- for no reason other than the recurrence of the images of an ellipsis and of a something coupled with remarks on bareness
-which was subtly planted in my mind by certain wonderfully insensitive geniuses?
I pledge my word that I have nil animalistic inclinations on that line.
As it has been lately established by some very perceptive people that I am a terrible cannibal
(Can I question their judgment from my innate imbecility?);
-I am glad you guys were so terribly careful about yourself;
-otherwise I probably would have gobbled you all up in no time!
That would have been a great pity,
-considering my worthlessness to the world and your extreme worth.
(But then why is the cannibal hurt,
- in horrible pain and is withering with sorrow?
And why does the soul of the cannibal shudder at the sickness of it all?
The Cannibal is not supposed to have a soul,
-or intelligence and culture!
He is after human flesh,
-he is the ultimate parasite,
-and alas he does not yet recognize it! )
-Should you be so brilliant, should you be indeed!
What do you take us lesser mortals for,
-Illiterate aboriginals in persistent need for clear guidance in matters of conscience?
Oh the triteness,
-the wretchedness,
-the total and complete banality
-of the insinuations,
- and the way it was done!
And I am terribly bad at riddles;
-electrocute me please,
-instead of putting me on something on a territory which I do not own and do not want to ever own.
I forgot to tell you,
-this blog is not for the highly enlightened;
-it was not advertised with visiting other blogs and leaving my URL in them,
--except on two isolated incidents to date.
No one is forced to visit it or read its content,
-I post whenever I am in a mood to post and whatever “nonsense” I choose.
It is my adventure with my own little ‘parasitic’ inner world,
-not an attempt to attract any one into it,
-though I write as if I have a large audience,
- it is just a fad;
-there is nothing more to it than that.
All conversations,
-whether internal or external,
-do expect an audience before them,
-other wise they wouldn’t take place,
-even the greatly enlightened would probably agree to this.
Yet sometimes people do come to my blog,
I haven’t bothered to ask why,
-because I was not out to catch them and make them my own,
I have always thought that life is sort of a short interval between birth and death and that it has no meaning other than what we make of it.
The meaning I personally ascribe it is to live it the way I feel it from time to time.
I often wonder what others see in what I write,
-some of the posts are hastily done in a stupid style with no finesse and flair,
- (oh, do Cannibals have such things!)
-just to get it over with-
-yet I wouldn’t complain.
Let them spend as much time as they want in it.
(It is no boast, I have “Start Counter” in it,
-and they give pretty good account of what the visitors do in the blog.)
I had planned to delete the blog after I reached 180 blog posts,
-since I can not find time and energy to do it with my job which requires some daily driving.
Now I have decided to let it stay alive.
I am game, I thrive on the acrimony, and it hardens my resolve to fight on.
Folks, I had come up by the hard way,
-there were no silver spoons on my table,
-not that I regret it,
-they are only good to look at but rather chilling to touch as I often find.
Cold metal, elegant and poised but nothing organic or life sustaining in it,
- I was satisfied with my wooden one.
- It breathed its life into me.
-It brought the whole forest into me.
Everything you see in my blog has a meaning for me,
- but may not have any for certain sublime souls.
But I can’t help that.
None of the posts were written with anyone in mind.
Some of them were an inept attempt at story telling,
- having little factual basis.
It was my personal take on life.
(God what wonderful things people write about others,
- once incensed?
A foolish post like “the way of the wise”
-and a stupid title of the blog were brought to book along with everything I do because
- they relate with some one else’s perceptions of life in a way I could have barely guessed.)
Yet I do not regret it.
Unknown to me,
-those seems to have shaken something up.
There are absolutely no deeds without effects,
-even the most evil deed would have to produce the most good somewhere in the world.
That is how the balancing works.
Let me be the Devil so there will be God!
I have always liked him,
-Lucifer,
- the son of morning,
-all resplendent,
-the first born of god,
-the one with the great pride,
- the one who rebelled against god for his leaning towards man,
- who was cast out into the deepest of hells,
- who can not regain higher worlds without human souls praying for him
I like the myth about him;
-I like him in his pride,
- in his eternal sorrow at the injustice done to him,
- his nonchalance at what had happened.
I have seen both of them,
-God and Satan,
-the god stricken and sad,
-and the other one with great flashing eyes,
- arrogant,
-powerful and defiant.
Strangely they always look demure to me whenever I meet them,
-looking up to me as if in supplication,
-seeking my blessings.
Given a choice I would be the later any time, any day, any moment.
But I can’t,
-because I am man,
-and they are the creations of the genius of my race,
- I am not theirs.
They are like my children,
I love them,
-I hold them near to my heart,
-I love them when they play with me,
-covering me with dust and refuse from their figures,
-painting me in many hues.
And,
I AM WHAT I AM
–nothing more,
-nothing less-.
I am truly sorry that this blog is not for the highly exalted.
They need no help from me.
-I am breathless, I am devastated.
Good lord, who knew that my poor posts would become a global event!
Oh, my fair (and not so fair) friends,
- I give you my solemn assurance,
-I wouldn’t be on that thing for gazillion (favorite expression of my little nephew, meaning endless I suppose!) multiplied by quadrillion, quadrillion …..quadrillion Kuwaiti Dinars!
I feel truly infinitesimal
- dismal would have been the more appropriate word but …
I will let that go for now.
Yet how can I let go of my embarrassment in front of the loving soul that is with me,
- for no reason other than the recurrence of the images of an ellipsis and of a something coupled with remarks on bareness
-which was subtly planted in my mind by certain wonderfully insensitive geniuses?
I pledge my word that I have nil animalistic inclinations on that line.
As it has been lately established by some very perceptive people that I am a terrible cannibal
(Can I question their judgment from my innate imbecility?);
-I am glad you guys were so terribly careful about yourself;
-otherwise I probably would have gobbled you all up in no time!
That would have been a great pity,
-considering my worthlessness to the world and your extreme worth.
(But then why is the cannibal hurt,
- in horrible pain and is withering with sorrow?
And why does the soul of the cannibal shudder at the sickness of it all?
The Cannibal is not supposed to have a soul,
-or intelligence and culture!
He is after human flesh,
-he is the ultimate parasite,
-and alas he does not yet recognize it! )
-Should you be so brilliant, should you be indeed!
What do you take us lesser mortals for,
-Illiterate aboriginals in persistent need for clear guidance in matters of conscience?
Oh the triteness,
-the wretchedness,
-the total and complete banality
-of the insinuations,
- and the way it was done!
And I am terribly bad at riddles;
-electrocute me please,
-instead of putting me on something on a territory which I do not own and do not want to ever own.
I forgot to tell you,
-this blog is not for the highly enlightened;
-it was not advertised with visiting other blogs and leaving my URL in them,
--except on two isolated incidents to date.
No one is forced to visit it or read its content,
-I post whenever I am in a mood to post and whatever “nonsense” I choose.
It is my adventure with my own little ‘parasitic’ inner world,
-not an attempt to attract any one into it,
-though I write as if I have a large audience,
- it is just a fad;
-there is nothing more to it than that.
All conversations,
-whether internal or external,
-do expect an audience before them,
-other wise they wouldn’t take place,
-even the greatly enlightened would probably agree to this.
Yet sometimes people do come to my blog,
I haven’t bothered to ask why,
-because I was not out to catch them and make them my own,
I have always thought that life is sort of a short interval between birth and death and that it has no meaning other than what we make of it.
The meaning I personally ascribe it is to live it the way I feel it from time to time.
I often wonder what others see in what I write,
-some of the posts are hastily done in a stupid style with no finesse and flair,
- (oh, do Cannibals have such things!)
-just to get it over with-
-yet I wouldn’t complain.
Let them spend as much time as they want in it.
(It is no boast, I have “Start Counter” in it,
-and they give pretty good account of what the visitors do in the blog.)
I had planned to delete the blog after I reached 180 blog posts,
-since I can not find time and energy to do it with my job which requires some daily driving.
Now I have decided to let it stay alive.
I am game, I thrive on the acrimony, and it hardens my resolve to fight on.
Folks, I had come up by the hard way,
-there were no silver spoons on my table,
-not that I regret it,
-they are only good to look at but rather chilling to touch as I often find.
Cold metal, elegant and poised but nothing organic or life sustaining in it,
- I was satisfied with my wooden one.
- It breathed its life into me.
-It brought the whole forest into me.
Everything you see in my blog has a meaning for me,
- but may not have any for certain sublime souls.
But I can’t help that.
None of the posts were written with anyone in mind.
Some of them were an inept attempt at story telling,
- having little factual basis.
It was my personal take on life.
(God what wonderful things people write about others,
- once incensed?
A foolish post like “the way of the wise”
-and a stupid title of the blog were brought to book along with everything I do because
- they relate with some one else’s perceptions of life in a way I could have barely guessed.)
Yet I do not regret it.
Unknown to me,
-those seems to have shaken something up.
There are absolutely no deeds without effects,
-even the most evil deed would have to produce the most good somewhere in the world.
That is how the balancing works.
Let me be the Devil so there will be God!
I have always liked him,
-Lucifer,
- the son of morning,
-all resplendent,
-the first born of god,
-the one with the great pride,
- the one who rebelled against god for his leaning towards man,
- who was cast out into the deepest of hells,
- who can not regain higher worlds without human souls praying for him
I like the myth about him;
-I like him in his pride,
- in his eternal sorrow at the injustice done to him,
- his nonchalance at what had happened.
I have seen both of them,
-God and Satan,
-the god stricken and sad,
-and the other one with great flashing eyes,
- arrogant,
-powerful and defiant.
Strangely they always look demure to me whenever I meet them,
-looking up to me as if in supplication,
-seeking my blessings.
Given a choice I would be the later any time, any day, any moment.
But I can’t,
-because I am man,
-and they are the creations of the genius of my race,
- I am not theirs.
They are like my children,
I love them,
-I hold them near to my heart,
-I love them when they play with me,
-covering me with dust and refuse from their figures,
-painting me in many hues.
And,
I AM WHAT I AM
–nothing more,
-nothing less-.
I am truly sorry that this blog is not for the highly exalted.
They need no help from me.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
De- Sensitization
Sensitizing is a cruel and terrible act, it passes beyond the inhuman embracing the very substance of evil.
Well, absolute evil is the absolute denial of every sort of freedom that you have, it is a complete take over. In the days of yore it was known by the name of possession. It begins by making you hear things -words, sounds, expressions, and fragments of musical notes, audible pictures and even a cacophony of voices. It makes you relate to things in your past which you have stealthily buried within you.
Every one has a past, and some of the things we have done are nothing to be proud of. Certain of them were beyond our control; where we were made to suffer for the wickedness of others. When these come back to haunt us we squirm and quail. We are again dragged back into the dumb hell of despondency. We cry out, our anguish is so terrible then that we rail against everything……..we want to kick God in the shin….we want to do terrible things to God.
Let me tell you, this is how every one is, there are no exceptions. Every one has a sore spot some where, none are immune to them. You see a dazzling citizen walk by, you see the confidence, the proud carriage, and the look of triumph on the face and you believe that they are blessed by fate and have invented a heaven for themselves on earth. Man, you have missed it completely; they are as insecure as you are! Take it from me, this is a fact. They are as fragile as you and me. May be they were just lucky not to be dragged back into the past, into the sounds and scenes and memories that they tremble before, but they too have had them. If you have lived, and unless you are a hopeless idiot you have them. The intensification of pain comes with knowledge. In bodily pain there are barriers above which you do not feel anything, but in the case of internalized pain there is no limit, it multiplies exponentially. It lands you in a living hell.
What do the perps do to make you suffer so? It is simple is it not, to lead you back to those times of your absolute terror, for it has not gone anywhere. It is hidden beneath the surface of the mind, prowling stealthily underneath to come up at the least excuse. They know this, for they have had such experiences too. But they have converted those into a vicious pleasure of making others squirm. It is a shared pleasure for they are projecting their own pathetic sensations into you and eliciting a response which corresponds to their own. Unfortunately the human psyche is constructed in such a way that it can only come up with a limited number of responses where it concerns our emotional life. On strict analysis there are only two basic reactions possible to us (there could be infinite number of variations within them.) of pleasure and pain. The sensation of pleasure adds worth to our lives. Pain takes the life out of us.
Some one has defined pleasure as the absence of pain and not a sensation in itself. You might think that it is an extreme definition. But actually it is the most comprehensive of all definitions of our psychical activity. A little thought will soon convince you about it.
So how do we combat pain? Well, we do not combat it, we accept it – a bit lame, you say? It actually is a very powerful statement. There is no negativity in it. Consider it your enemy but do not ignore it. You have to live with this enemy whether you like it or not, so plan to do so. It would pounce on you unawares, so be prepared for it. Once you prepare yourself for the worst (the very Hell if you like) it would start to lose its terror. You would find that you can manipulate it so that it loses its sting and leaves only little traces on your mind. There are methods and methods of combat. When the enemy is so powerful you go by the rules of Judo- you convert its strength to assist you in destroying itself. Let me tell you, this can be done- it has been done. Your intelligence and your understanding do not matter. You could have the highest IQ in the world- it would not stop you from the victim of your fears. That story about Admiral Nelson - that in which he was left alone on a deserted island in the night while he was a child, and when rescued asking the questioner “ what is fear” in response to the question whether he did not feel fear in the night – is absolute tripe. Every one feels fear, it is ingrained.
You can’t fight pain, you can only divert its line of action, same way the perps do. It would be bestial to channel it to some one innocent, so channel it back to the perps, even with their trickery they are not above feeling terror, get back into them using the same channel of communication. They can’t ignore you the same way you can’t ignore them. Project into them imagining you are touching their core, raking up feelings of despondency, worthlessness, meaninglessness of their lives, and confusion. Imagine that you are homing in on to their Achilles’ heel. Let them have it full blast.
You think that this would not work? Well you would not know that unless you have tried it would you? Give it a try. As you go along you would find newer and surer methods to get in to them. Jung is in fashion now, think on the lines of collective consciousness, where everything is linked together to form one giant consciousness. Firmly believe that you are getting back at them with your thoughts, your will. Will it that they start to feel it in their bones that they are being haunted and hunted.
Even otherwise they are feeling it; they are not mere machines even if they have got machines to do most of their work. Unless they are sharing the feelings there would be no sense in doing it. What you sow is what you reap. This is no mere useless saying. There are subtle laws at work. You would be assisting them if you consciously involve yourself in it.
Think on it so that you understand the theory yourself.
Well, absolute evil is the absolute denial of every sort of freedom that you have, it is a complete take over. In the days of yore it was known by the name of possession. It begins by making you hear things -words, sounds, expressions, and fragments of musical notes, audible pictures and even a cacophony of voices. It makes you relate to things in your past which you have stealthily buried within you.
Every one has a past, and some of the things we have done are nothing to be proud of. Certain of them were beyond our control; where we were made to suffer for the wickedness of others. When these come back to haunt us we squirm and quail. We are again dragged back into the dumb hell of despondency. We cry out, our anguish is so terrible then that we rail against everything……..we want to kick God in the shin….we want to do terrible things to God.
Let me tell you, this is how every one is, there are no exceptions. Every one has a sore spot some where, none are immune to them. You see a dazzling citizen walk by, you see the confidence, the proud carriage, and the look of triumph on the face and you believe that they are blessed by fate and have invented a heaven for themselves on earth. Man, you have missed it completely; they are as insecure as you are! Take it from me, this is a fact. They are as fragile as you and me. May be they were just lucky not to be dragged back into the past, into the sounds and scenes and memories that they tremble before, but they too have had them. If you have lived, and unless you are a hopeless idiot you have them. The intensification of pain comes with knowledge. In bodily pain there are barriers above which you do not feel anything, but in the case of internalized pain there is no limit, it multiplies exponentially. It lands you in a living hell.
What do the perps do to make you suffer so? It is simple is it not, to lead you back to those times of your absolute terror, for it has not gone anywhere. It is hidden beneath the surface of the mind, prowling stealthily underneath to come up at the least excuse. They know this, for they have had such experiences too. But they have converted those into a vicious pleasure of making others squirm. It is a shared pleasure for they are projecting their own pathetic sensations into you and eliciting a response which corresponds to their own. Unfortunately the human psyche is constructed in such a way that it can only come up with a limited number of responses where it concerns our emotional life. On strict analysis there are only two basic reactions possible to us (there could be infinite number of variations within them.) of pleasure and pain. The sensation of pleasure adds worth to our lives. Pain takes the life out of us.
Some one has defined pleasure as the absence of pain and not a sensation in itself. You might think that it is an extreme definition. But actually it is the most comprehensive of all definitions of our psychical activity. A little thought will soon convince you about it.
So how do we combat pain? Well, we do not combat it, we accept it – a bit lame, you say? It actually is a very powerful statement. There is no negativity in it. Consider it your enemy but do not ignore it. You have to live with this enemy whether you like it or not, so plan to do so. It would pounce on you unawares, so be prepared for it. Once you prepare yourself for the worst (the very Hell if you like) it would start to lose its terror. You would find that you can manipulate it so that it loses its sting and leaves only little traces on your mind. There are methods and methods of combat. When the enemy is so powerful you go by the rules of Judo- you convert its strength to assist you in destroying itself. Let me tell you, this can be done- it has been done. Your intelligence and your understanding do not matter. You could have the highest IQ in the world- it would not stop you from the victim of your fears. That story about Admiral Nelson - that in which he was left alone on a deserted island in the night while he was a child, and when rescued asking the questioner “ what is fear” in response to the question whether he did not feel fear in the night – is absolute tripe. Every one feels fear, it is ingrained.
You can’t fight pain, you can only divert its line of action, same way the perps do. It would be bestial to channel it to some one innocent, so channel it back to the perps, even with their trickery they are not above feeling terror, get back into them using the same channel of communication. They can’t ignore you the same way you can’t ignore them. Project into them imagining you are touching their core, raking up feelings of despondency, worthlessness, meaninglessness of their lives, and confusion. Imagine that you are homing in on to their Achilles’ heel. Let them have it full blast.
You think that this would not work? Well you would not know that unless you have tried it would you? Give it a try. As you go along you would find newer and surer methods to get in to them. Jung is in fashion now, think on the lines of collective consciousness, where everything is linked together to form one giant consciousness. Firmly believe that you are getting back at them with your thoughts, your will. Will it that they start to feel it in their bones that they are being haunted and hunted.
Even otherwise they are feeling it; they are not mere machines even if they have got machines to do most of their work. Unless they are sharing the feelings there would be no sense in doing it. What you sow is what you reap. This is no mere useless saying. There are subtle laws at work. You would be assisting them if you consciously involve yourself in it.
Think on it so that you understand the theory yourself.
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