Profound Truth...

The profoundest instinct in man is to war against the truth; that is, against the Real. He shuns facts from his infancy. His life is a perpetual evasion. Miracle, chimera and to-morrow keep him alive. He lives on fiction and myth. It is the Lie that makes him free. Animals alone are given the privilege of lifting the veil of Isis; men dare not. The animal, awake, has no fictional escape from the Real because he has no imagination. Man, awake, is compelled to seek a perpetual escape into Hope, Belief, Fable, Art, God, Socialism, Immortality, Alcohol, Love. From Medusa-Truth he makes an appeal to Maya-Lie."




de Casseres

Crazy

They say I am crazy,

That I am not blind,

But have lost my mind.

And I laugh. 

They say I dont have a Job,

That I do not know to hold on,

But thats just an oxymoron

And I laugh.

They say I dont have money,

That I will fail to earn,

But thats none of their concern

And I laugh

They say I laugh with no moral fear

My life is doomed as is my career,

But my laugh is just a cover,

For I know to brave the future

The road ahead is not hazy

Thus they say I am crazy 

--

The End

the Slap from Brahma

The slap fell on Sangram's left cheek.


All the cosmic energy in this Universe that was created from the beginning of time, reverberated infinitely in his physical shape that summed up his existence. The initial impact of this pristine energy made him feel as if the big bang, that created the universe itself,and which he had always doubted as a concept, landing right below his earlobe. The ear drums started to oscillate like the balls of an angry bull charging across the field. The energy descended down through the throat which was now like a dried river bed, reaching the heart and lungs, which stopped beating altogether to analyse, contemplate and pass on this baton of divine energy to the stomach and others parts of the body, through the various communication channels available. The stomach churned and the kidney burned. The pancreas twisted further and as the energy dissipated with a mighty fury, every 206  of his bones started to crumble like a pack of cards. From the very atomic, sub-atomic to the inter galactic forces of nature that shaped this world, it all converged into the surface area of his left cheek and exploded with a bang. the big bang.
It is now important to know what happened next,
that he fell to the ground, with the skin the colour of Spanish tomato, is secondary to the fact that his brain, unable to preserve this energy, felt the sudden urge to release it all together. He ejected a jet of warm urine out of his pants and it streamed down through the left knee and enriched the earth below. It was a momentary bliss followed by sobs rising like a tsunami amidst the sea.
Sangram Dash was exactly 17 years and 3 months old when he first watched a raunchy young man riding a voluptuous woman on a 19 inch monitor and was overcome by a feeling of utter embarrassment. He was also 17 years and exactly 3 months old when he got caught seeing the raunchy young man riding naked on the voluptuous woman.


The reason for the slap was elemental, being caught at the oddest hour of the day, watching the oddest thing and at the oddest place. Simply said the odds were heavy against him. But even that slap from his father was nothing compared to the one rightly placed by Sunil Samarth. Fresher, Computer science, 2006 Batch, roll number 20718, village Barpali, district sambalpur.


Infront of him stood the reincarnation of Brahma, Sunil Samarth, with fury of the gods in his eyes and strength of the devil in his arms. He stood fearless, undaunted.
However Sangram had a peculiar appearance. He was over 6 feet tall and looked liked a stuffed Grizzly Bear. There were only a few strand of hair left at the edge of the egg shaped head, yet all of his body was covered with an inch of thick hairy fur. The eyes were bulged and appeared about to fall. The teeth appeared to be mummified.
The hands and legs extended and looked more like the mechanical arms of a Robot. And there many concentric circles of flesh surrounding the torso.All but 21 years of age, he had made a huge positive mark on the college campus ever since he stepped his foot in some three years back, thrashing the hell out of the new kids on the block.
For Sangram the last hunting season had just started, however for Sunil, it was the first day at college, first day that he would be staying away in a hostel, read hostile environment. As it turned out he was kidnapped and taken away from his hostel room to the senior's dormitory, on the very first night. He had some idea what was about to befall but was not left with any option, just to oblige and accept the inevitable, like the other two hapless goats ready for the butcher.




But what happened was alltogether a very different story...
The Sun had long set in the distant horizon. The sky was crimson with the birds making a marathon run to reach their nest after a hard days work. The little chicks remained perched on tree tops, occasionally raising their head to get a glimpse of their parents. They kept on chirping proudly as their parents flew competing against each other. Very soon it will be their turn to fly.

Bus number 2508 cruised along the vast stretch of the national highway. The Bus was packed to the hilt. Most of the freshers stood silently and looked like scapegoats about to be butchered. They stood huddled in between the row of seats, stressed for the most part of this 20 kilometre journey to the city. For once there was no age, sex or regional discrimination. Each one of the fresher stood as per the policies laid out by the seniors and they in turn had stood as per their seniors and so forth. There was no defiance.

It was an unusually humid day. The crisp ironed shirts were no more crispy, sticking to the torso, and streams of sweat running down the entire body, it was left with patches of sweat everywhere. Most of them were too close for comfort, each body pressed against his friend to be. Few girls stood in embarrassment unable to scratch where it itched them the most. Boys, unashamed went about their business of scratching where it itched. And then in the gloomy darkness, sticking their head up to breathe, they were no more sure whose itch they were answering to. Thus few of them scratched their neighbours itch, releasing them of their mortal suffering.

Sunil stood hidden behind many of the fresh faces around. Yet there was something different about him. One look and you could say he was like no other. He was different. He was bold and when most of the others were gyrating, smashing themselves against each other, he stood still like a statue. 

The Bus finally reached the hostel compound.And one by one everyone started to get down. A bunch of guys including Sangram were waiting inside the phone booth cum Xerox shop round the corner. And as soon as they saw these three coming towards the booth rather than to the safe haven of the hostel gates, they pounced on them like a lion on a hapless deer. 

Two hours later, Balasurender was explaining the meaning of sexy. Eshwar was desperately trying to prove the existence of God. And Sunil was frisked away by Sangram to give the breakup of his body mass in kgs. It seemed he was doing well than the others and was beating Sangram at his own game. 

Unable to constrain his frustration after an hour, Sangram managed to say," Maaaa*****ia",  saying it as if he meant it. It was near perfection. The word is a local slang for having illicit relationship with your mother.A word fit for the kind of guy infested with incest. A derogatory word in every sense of it. But just like love which itself can mean a gamut of feelings, so is this word, and it really means a whole gamut of feelings for many different people. Some take it pretty lightly and some can drive a knife through your heart, if you are not careful enough.

And when Sunil Samarth, heard the word, he was not overcome with disgust. But he was simply teleported back in time to the precise moment when he had uttered the same word, and with a certain diffidence on his face. It was time for redemption of the guilt that had been haunting him for as many as 4 long years. It was his time to deliver the cosmic energy to the worthy successor.

And without wasting a moment he delivered the divine gift of Brahma to the worthy successor as he had received it from his brother.

PRELUDE

Four years ago..

Sunil returned home with ruffled hairs and unbuttoned shirt.

The tussle had lasted for a few minutes and post three sentences, it was all over. His brother stood on the stairs with fury red eyes and an exceptional hatred for him, shocked, his brother had asked only one question at the middle of their all important struggle, 

"What did you say to me?"

"Maa***hia"

Patassssssssssssssshhh. 

Post a momentary loss of consciousness, Sunil felt the whole world revolving around him, he could see the stars and planets in the vastness of the universe and he felt enlightened, there was immense energy all around him. Every atom in his body absorbed that energy. He knew as no one else did, when one humiliates the creator of life on this planet, Brahma, the supreme creator of this Universe(Brahmand) answers the mere mortal with an unimaginable force what he gently calls the SLAP FROM BRAHMA.

--

The END

Ajanta

Miss Ajanta Das was no stunner, yet you couldn't make the mistake of ignoring her as she walked by. In conventional terms you would even dare address her as the girl next door. Her hair straightened in accordance with the recent Bollywood trends, a slight hint of touch up heightened by the fragrance of morning mist. Her lips full and glossy pink without a hint of artificial gloss on it. And if you happen to have the audacity to enquire about her sensuous lips, she would politely let you know that it is the saliva that does the trick. Nothing more. Her walk is that of a person who is not confident of what lay ahead on the road, often gyrating on her toes,blessed by a centrifugal force which acts mysteriously upon her. However her head remains perfectly aligned to her torso all the while. She would lift her head high as she walked, with her eyes set on the horizon, appearing never too high looking straight at the sky or never too down as to appear having a toe fetish. She was fair and remained so until her death. Born to rich, powerful parents, she was always  humble enough to apologize for any stupidities she did. However those stupidities were as rare as sighting a tiger in the wild. her name had nothing to do with the Ajanta caves located in Maharashtra. In fact no one in her entire family had ever been there. She was the only child of Ajay and Anita Das. And they felt a divine obligation to name their only child Ajanta, the letters derived from their own name.
this very first instant itself indicated how madly they loved their offspring. She was their Darling. The crowned  jewel in their eyes. The person destined to make their name immortal in the society. They both were distinguished civil servants of the Government of India, honoured with many facilities that their lovely daughter would benefit so richly from.

Everybody in the university premise knew her. She was famous for she was a distinguished student, a faithful friend, a genuinely nice person to get along with, neither to shy nor a blabber. And under adverse situations, she always knew the middle path of peaceful negotiations. You know, most of us did not believe she would ever fall in love. Her aura was divinely revered that to imagine her with any coarse mortal was a sin. She was a princess . Yet she did fall in love, but not with any prince...

But this is not the biography of Ajanta Das,
It is about the energy that brings two most unlikely person into each other's arms and is responsible for the human species to survive and continue to grow. It is about the energy that surrounds us, engulfs us and consumes us day after day until the day we release our soul from the mortal sins. It is about the energy that is capable of with standing the brutal axe of time. It is something over which many epic battles have been fought and will continue to do so. It is the same energy that makes an introvert guy like me sit till the middle of the night and write with passion for all you beautiful people to read.
and mysteriously I believe this energy is slowly diminishing from our life and if not for certain heroic individuals who glorify and preserve this energy, it would have been completely lost along with many other species, devoid of it.

The Blind Man saga.. The girl who hoisted the Red Flag

Day -3
Blood lust

One more day passed by, when the Maoist have hoisted the red flag high up in the air. The red Corridor of blood lust is increasing ever so fast. No more the fight against the government is restricted to forests & villages. The smaller unknown peaceful towns on the border of the red corridor are the new decisive Battlegrounds and have been set as a perfect example of the inefficiency of the Government in tackling the insurgency.
More than the brutal deaths on either side, it is the constant threat of the apocalyptic future for the common man, that has made life miserable throughout the entire regions.
Survival in these trying times, across various ethnic groups, pose a major challenge for each individual family.
Yet the indomitable human spirit, fights on a guerilla war daily for the very reason to provide a secure and better future for the coming generation. The government cant sit back and afford to relax, as it has always done in the past. The actions must speak for itself. The Maoist fights for a change. A change that was supposed to have brought prosperity to the most backward and downtrodden of the society. Yet scams after scams have left nothing for them except to retaliate in the most inhuman way possible. The government the present and the past which had like a crippled puppet watching from the sidelines and consoling themselves that the threat is not immediate and is not possible on such grandeur scale, is now willing to draw these Maoist leaders to the discussion tables.
It remains to be seen how effective would that be, considering the inefficiency is profound & writ large on its face.
Whatever be the reason, the girl who was raped multiple times by the CRPF jawans, tied and hanged upside down, abused to the core of the human soul possible, is now rightly hoisting the Red Flag in the middle of the town square, marching over the dead soldiers, the  very same ones whose job was to protect her in the first place.

what an irony of life...

The Blind Man Saga... Lake View Apartment

Day 2
Dead Tired...

Relocating to a new place is fun and a bit adventurous, but with so much packing, moving and unpacking to do, it becomes all the more pain at all the right places.
Not to forget, the looping anxiety that brews all the while, about the well being of the goods. Today happened to be my first complete relocation, and a successful one to begin with. Except for a slight headache and stiff calf muscles, everything seems to be in order.
I have gulped down two aspirin tablets  with my usual drink, to soothe the tendons.
Hope things will be better tomorrow morning.

The new apartment is on the 3rd floor of the majestic building, located on the outskirts, towards the south of the city, As I say,far from the madding crowd. Its ambience is serene and with a balcony beside my room, I could easily view glittering new high rise buildings still under construction. There is a beautiful lake near by, some 200 yards straight from the apartment's premises. Water has always a soothing effect on my nerves, and to see the placid water of the lake, undiluted with a bluish hue was a good sight to my sore eyes.
With the evening simmering in the distant and a dazzling display of lights emitting from far off places, it does look elegant. Especially the reflection of the light on the face of the lake. The place is still not clouded with any new building blocking off the sight, but the prospects of it are increasing, with the constructions going on around it.

With all unpacking done for the day, I need to rest my poor self.
There is a new place to be explored and secrets to be unearthed. ..

The Blind Man Saga...

Day 1
Blue Hour 
refers to the period of twilight each morning and evening where there is neither full daylight nor complete darkness.


There is a saying, "The night is darkest before the twilight". I have wondered about it quite often over the last few days. How often does one wake up in the morning to realize that the darkness of the night before is not over yet. what's worse, it isn't going to be over ever again.The nocturnal creatures will not stop to haunt your dreams. You lay in your bed, tossing over and over again waiting for sleep to drop by. Yet it remains a distant cousin who visits you once in a while, bringing joy into your life. And with that you also accept the fact that the dark shadows during the early hours of the night are going to be your tenants for life. Nightmares become your alibi. The rainbow is black. Funny as it may seem that my dreams are the playgrounds of many a characters that are yet to see the light of the day. They are pleading me to rescue them from the shadows that grows ever so rapidly towards them and yet, I have in all probability, summarized that whatever disasters happen, be it personal, local or global, happens to someone else in some other country, in some geography thousand of miles away. I did not believe I could be the lead subject of some very extreme situation happening to me. I am now the architect of my dreams and nightmares, I am the creator and the destroyer of the characters that dwell in those dreams and nightmares.. 


I am blind, Its the part that I came to know a few months ago. It has been rough ride ever since. However I am not completely blind or else I would not be here on this blank page pouring my thoughts out. I am in that hour of my life where I can clearly see the Earth rotating to enter the shadows, where the once bright Sun is bright no more, calmly drowning over the horizon and the vast winter sky is about to turn blue waiting for the dusk to take over. This night is going to be dark and long, the day being too bright. And somewhere through this wheel of time, in between these vast horizons, in between the twilight, I stand with my head held high basking in the warmth of this magnificent hour, which I refer to as The Blue hour of hope.


This is my time, my only hour and this I must use to the best of my ability to produce the musings of my grieved mind.
Never shall I stop to write, never shall I succumb to the obvious. My fight is against me. My fight is with the time that I cant hold back. My struggle is to sail through the night towards the twilight. And I do not know whether you will appreciate or condemn my words. Whether you will find it vulgar or mesmerizing, whether the words will stir your soul or give you pain of passing moment. Immortality is not what I aspire to achieve, its the hope to survive the night's long ordeal, the hope to once again feel the zephyr of the blue hour lifting my soul way beyond into the Sun...