My Great Country

How is India a great country? Half the people in this country are not aware of or understand the full extent of fundamental rights, or how they apply to our lives.

What constitutes the meaning of a great country? I don't think you and I know the meaning of a great country. All we know are textbook answers and empty phrases: "Bharath Matha Ki Jai", "India is a great country", "I'm proud to be an Indian".

You and I don't know the meaning of those words. We wear them like new clothes, before every national holiday or cricket match.

We bicker for TRP ratings. We start smear campaigns for votes. We objectify to fill theater halls. We oppress for greed. We condemn children to heritage. We study to earn. We work to take more from the world.

We fall in love to fuck. We marry to measure our worth.

We love to hate, and we hate to love and sympathise. We believe in our traditions, yet we know only the abridged version.

Men wear ethnic wear just for occasions, yet women must wear them at all times. 

We love all things glittery. We want to live a modern world, but with the rules of the old one.

We trust second-hand information; our senses are just for our gratification. A life without pleasure is no life at all. Pleasure must come to us in all forms. Discomfort is our enemy. We don't learn from discomfort. We learn to avoid discomfort. 

Another's suffering is not my own. The world can burn; my house is safe. 

Children die from hunger in the hundreds, but mine doesn't have a high percentage.

We love watching TV, the invention of our age.

Our children are wrong to use the world wide web, the invention of their age. 

Our children must make life choices in alignment with our wishes; we will die and leave them to do the same. 

We say there is prosperity when there are still those without a roof over their heads.

We build schools for free education, but we eat up the money given to build bathrooms.

We will hold onto the past and never let go. We also want virtual reality to watch Salman Khan.

Cricket stars are not our idols; they are our slaves. Our cocks in cock-fights. If one defects, slaughter it and put another in its place. 

Our movie stars are those we wish to love and fuck, but we will settle for the ones who pay us the most.

We believe politics runs itself, forever sprouting units to crank its rusty gears. We believe law doesn't apply to us, but to the person standing next to me.

We let Bollywood and soap operas be our teachers of History. We believe books were made to blind us.

We let mass-murderers off the hook if they offer us a glorified version of pre-colonial "exploit and trade".

We are the judge. We are the police. We are the truth. We are the enlightenment. We can speak no wrong.

We want freedom, but we understand only privileges. We are united. We are divided.

The love for our country only blooms when we set foot on foreign soil.

We are idiots. Deluded, misguided, with a fiery spirit, unaware of worthier causes.

We are not a great country. We may have roots of gold, but the bark is rotting from within.

There are those who work towards the light and truth, but we will label them and ostracize them.

We a not a great country. In fact, we are not even a country at all. We are divided factions bundled together in a boundary, led by those who thrive on our ignorance.

There are those like Arnab Goswami, who distract us with gimmicks.

We are not a great country. We are great confusion. We are empty headed activists fueling personal agendas. 

We are righteous and arrogant. We dismiss those we do not understand. We accept those who are our images. We doubt that which is different.

We are not a country. We are helpless and lost. We are idiots.

P.S.: If this makes me an Anti-National in your eyes, then you do not understand what a Nation is. I believe that to you, the word 'Nation' is only an empty sound, into which you must cram any meaning you can find and throw it at other people's faces. You are a gossip girl, capable of only gossip and misdirecting people from what really matters.

Why Not Waste Some Time Here?

It's been quite some time since I last saw a blank page. It's a weird feeling. It is a feeling mixed with optimism and uncertainty. Optimistic, about what you are going write. Uncertain, about how that piece of writing will turn out. In fact, this feeling can be related to many things in the real world. Like starting a new day; you feel optimistic at the start of it, but gradually begin to realize that it's as shitty as yesterday. Something that I might end discovering at the end of this piece too. Sigh. All good things come to an end.

Speaking of "good things" coming to an end, the world around us is no exception. This is the point that I can righteously justify the choice of not having kids. Frankly, I don't think I want to father a child into this world. Someday, maybe. Right now, no. The world is a shit place. Let's just accept it. Denial is not going to take us anywhere.  Sure, that are some things and places, particularly, that are beautiful and worth experiencing; otherwise it's just shit. Life is beautiful. The world is shit. Twenty five years on this planet haven't suggested otherwise. Although, the possibilities of what the future might hold is tempting. Space travel is something to look forward to, but looks like it might not happen in my timeline.

So what was this piece about? Well, nothing, as always. What's the point of talking about one thing only. Let's talk about everything. Why define boundaries, right?

Lol
Why am I still writing this?
Why the hell are you still reading it?
...
 *Awkward*




 

From Work With Love

Procrastination is a great excuse to do something new. Sitting in my office right now, doing some "not-so-important" work, I find myself itching to do something that I have never done before, like every other day in the office. In the end, you have no option but to stub that "itch" in the ash tray of disappointments, just like every other childhood dream you've ever had. Just suppress it and hope it doesn't blow back one fine day.

How long can we continue doing that? Suppressing our emotions and thoughts, suppressing our self expression. Suppressing everything that makes us different from others and unique in our own way.

Who knows when this will change. For now, we need to work.

I have to work, to feed and cloth myself, or to have a future. We all know what happens to the poor, they are just ignored until somebody finds them to be a jackpot for political agenda. So obviously, we all don't want to be poor. We at least want to be wealthy enough to post "cool selfies" on facebook. Or own a fancy touch screen phone. Therefore, you work, I work, everyone works. We spend our adult lives working. Working to stay live. Working to have security. Work for some reason or the other. We have no choice. To be able survive in this world, you have to... WORK.

Just entering into the field of "working", I have begun to realise that there isn't much you can do after a full day's work. "Work" drains you physically and mentally. It becomes difficult to spend time on things you love doing, such as - reading, writing, music, art, carpentry, etc. Those who are fortunate enough to be paid for things they love doing are better off than the rest of us. The rest of us have to toil endlessly, so that one day, we will have the financial freedom to do what we want to and nobody can stop us. We look forward to that "cake". 

But....

Yes, it is a lie. It has always been a lie. Many free thinkers figured it out and tried to advocate it. The world just labelled them "Radical/Socialist/Communist" and cast them aside. Regarded them as crazy people who just didn't have the mettle to stick it out in this world. These free-thinkers had the world's attention for a short period of time, before the whims of capitalist desire resumed to course through our veins again, and we went back to ignoring such truths. 

Many right wing supporters in India are ready to jump at the chance to blame the West for "Modernising" our country, but they will eagerly accept a capitalist's free-market if it means more money. 

We whore ourselves out to currency, but prefer not to look at it that way. We have unlimited reservoirs of contempt towards others, and we seek to compensate it with "more and more money". No wonder we are defected. We harbour so much resentment and hate that it spills into everything we do. It spills into our surroundings. It blinds us from what truly matters, like, "human beings". We pride ourselves for being Humans, yet we indulge in inhumane activities and systems. Because, all we care for is receiving rewards. We believe rewards will make our lives better. An attitude that is a result of insecurity. But, nobody is ready to accept it. Not yet anyway.

The Toilers going to Toil.

And so, I join the Toilers. Toiling away my days working for money, until someday, by the grace of a miracle, I can break away from the shackles of labour and pursue what truly gives me self-expression, what truly makes me, Me. 

Until that day, I am only an employee waiting to be told what to do.

   

An Indian - The Identity that we are born into.

I'm not much for politics. I don't understand the workings of it. But the invasion of propaganda in social media, that recent politics have achieved, has pulled me into it nonetheless. The best example would be the online propaganda war that was happening between Modi supporters and the elite English speaking crowd of social networking. It didn't reveal much on who should be more deserving of rule in our country. Both sides had compelling arguments, though, one side sought to defaming the other. 

  

However, the scenario brought to light how ignorant most of us are. How gullible we can be, given the right kind of probing. There was an evident split in India, among its demographic, on those who really knew what the scenario was and those who were shouting slogans because other people around them were doing it. 

  

On the day that aspirations turned into reality, the day of the polling count, my life remained oddly the same, just with the addition of a very weird fear of how things are going to be in the future. I'm not terrified of Modi coming to power, but I am apprehensive about those "strong-will-development-seeking-monkeys" who are riding the wave of ecstasy after learning that Modi IS coming to power. Modi coming to power doesn't mean we need to PANIC. It doesn't really change our future, unless of course, we want it to. What we need is to move to forward, and not stew in the same cauldron until we attain salvation. What India as a country needs right now is acceptance. Acceptance that everyone is not the same. Acceptance that change is good for the long run, and that you cannot choose to remain in the same shit pile of traditions, customs, and ideologies if we really want to progress. 

  

"Old is Gold" - Yes, true to an extent. But, even old was "new" sometime. Our heritage did not drop from the skies. It didn't just appear one fine day. It evolved, slowly and steadily, changing with its surroundings, acquiring a shape as it moved along. 

  

Our future is going to orient itself in the same way. Slowly and steadily, change will come. It will come in its own time. One thing I'm sure about is that Politics is not going to take us to a better place. 

  

This attitude, that it is the responsibility of Governments to make our world a better and safer place, is a fallacy that we continue to trap ourselves in. Politicians aren't going to take us to where we want to go. They will take us to where they think we want to go. Both are the not same, and ignoring this has been our greatest flaw. 

  

Governments are not agents of Change. They are agents of Order. Modi is an agent of Order. Not the Moralistic Order that you and I read in our English textbooks, but the order that a religion dictates. We like to call ourselves a "Secular" country. Truth is we are not. 

  

We are a highly judgmental society that will tear apart anything that is different from us. We take pride in being an Indian and look down at the western world. 

But, then 

What does is it mean to be an Indian? 

Do we know what being an Indian means? (Don't even bother giving me an academic textbook answer, because even those turds had no idea what they were saying) 

Of course, we don't. This identity of being "Indian" has been force fed and choked down our throats until there is nothing else left in our system. People on this piece of holy land will readily tell you what it means to be an Indian. Ask them what it means to be human, and they will stare at you like you were speaking Latin. We have no Identity as a nation. We are divided not by states, but by caste, religion, culture, socio-economic status, and countless other political identities. Yet, we all sing "Proud to be an Indian". 

  

It disgusts me. We cannot feed our people. We cannot treat them. We cannot fight poverty. We cannot keep injustice at bay. But, we need "development". We need high skyscrapers, we need bigger flyovers and taller buildings, express ways, and fancier bus services. 

We don't know what we want. We exist. We eat. We earn money. And we follow the herd. 

What happens to the person next to us is none of our concern. If our families are well fed and fat, the rest of the world can go to hell. 

  

And, the rest of the world has gone to hell. If by luck of birth you are born in a well to do family, you can have aspirations and do something in life. Otherwise, you are doomed till a miracle comes and touches you. 

  

And that is all that is there is to it. Nothing more, nothing less. Modi can be the PM for all I care. If he runs a totalitarian government, he can do so with a spring in his step. Because, it is not he that we should be scared of, but the society that surrounds us. The ones that will blindly move to his tunes, the ones that will let him wield them as a weapon. It is them that I am scared of. 

  

Modi is one man, he has no authority or power without us. 

  

There is no changing what has already happened. Now, that he is THE MAN. I hope he proves me wrong.             

From the Empty to the Sour...

An empty page is a nice feeling. It stands for the idea that everything and anything is possible. It holds massive potential for possibilities. New beginnings are often the same. The mere number of possibilities fills you with inspiration.

But empty pages don't stay empty forever. They slowly start to fill up. And they keep filling up, and filling up, until you can't write anymore on them. . .
Life is sometimes the same. Full of possibilities at the start, full of potential... but, slowly they start running out of room, until one day there is no room left at all.
I think it comes with age.
I'm just 24. But it already feels so old. My memories as a child or even a teenage boy seem like a lifetime behind me. Or even an earlier life. Just memories popping out from somewhere.

It is age. Age does a weird thing to you. You can't really explain it. It makes you feel like you are more than ready for life, while it slowly squeezes out imagination and "possibilities" from the mind.

I've just started living my life, and I already feel old, and tired and ready to give up. Yet, there is still so much more to do.
...Or maybe I just believe that there is.

Senility can be a dangerous thing. It can seep out the juice from your life and leave you pining for old memories. Memories you can never re-live again.
Yet, I am not senile. I am young, vibrant and full or energy. . .
Maybe I just believe I am. Maybe my mind has grown senile.
Maybe my world has become senile.

Everything around me seems so old. The world of wonder, fantastical creations and good values thrives only in books and entertainment. The world we live in is quite old and dirty. It just doesn't look it.

It is masked by paved roads, incredible cars, radio signals and "modern" people. It's a coat of varnish on old wood. . .

Resignation. That's the word for it. That's what I am feeling now. Resigned that nothing is going to change. That things are going to be the same no matter what. Possibilities seem like distant stars. Sparkling and twinkling in my eyes but forever out of my reach.

Resignation and Senility go hand in hand.
Maybe one starts from another.
Maybe one ends with the other.

Maybe it's a just a bowl of crap.

Maybe I am just asleep.

Maybe I will wake up within the next forty-fifty years and find out that it's a new beginning all over again. 

May our souls rest in peace - A Man.

I'm returning to the keyboard after a long break from writing. The reason for the break was that I had run out of creative juice to write up anything, Not that anything has changed now. But who needs creative juices to write? If every writer is this world were to be phenomenal, exceptional and brilliant, the world will soon become a boring place. We need mediocrity in this world. And I dedicate this piece to all those mediocre people of the world, and I am also a part of them.

This world is a giant factory. Everyone has jobs that they must do with utmost integrity for the smooth and efficient functioning of this factory. Plus, like every other factory this one has it's own goals and agendas. As long these goals are being met as required, the factory will not give two shits about the people who run it. How often do you find a factory where the manual labor is the prime interest of concern? Rarely. Those who are employed to work at the assembly line barely matter to the FatAss "Lords of the factory". If one of these employees dies, it doesn't not even effect the factory much; as long as there is another person waiting to take up the vacant position.

Our world works in a similar fashion. Ultimately all that we are is units that make the big machines run(govts, companies, organizations, and economies). We, the common man, serve no other purpose other than that of numbers. The more the number of workers, the more the output. It does not matter that we commoners might have aspirations or ambitions. It is our duty to follow the herd and keep the turbines running, so that those above us may reap the rewards.

 
I am honestly very tired of being part of this fodder. This mediocre plane, which the world does not appreciate enough. We all just drool over the ones who are brilliant at what they do( like accomplished authors, scientists, great minds, politicians, and what the fuck not) while we feel inadequate and dissatisfied about our own selves.

 

 We keep forgetting that these great minds are no different from us. They posses the same biological anatomy, the same mental processes, and the same number of limbs. They weren't sent here from a superior planet, to come and induce great moments of history in our lives. They are the just the same as us. They were all mediocre, before the world took notice of them and began to perceive their work to be more than mediocre.

The world is a shitty place. Learn that. Embrace that. It is the people that make it less of a shitty place. But who has time to chew on that truth? Everyone has their eyes peeled on that imaginary carrot that dangles in front of them. Everyone is blissfully ignorant of the truth that this carrot is being held in place by those narcissistic capitalist spearheads that only care about that green paper, whilst they lay ruin to this beautiful world of ours and our minds, by polluting and intoxicating us with their heavily fabricated lies of status recognition and desire.

(look at that, it's in full HD resolution)

 Humans deserve more than being slaves to currency. Humans deserve more than just being consumed by their own creations. Or that would be the case in an Ideal World. But if a species is foolish enough to be consumed by it's own "gears and levers", then maybe it deserves the fate at its hands. Maybe humans are not meant for greatness. Maybe it's true calling lies dormant at the wake of its own ruin.

Why am I ranting about all this? Because the forces that cause the above are the same forces that call us mediocre. Creating levels and ranking systems, so that we start calculating what we deserve and begin to believe that it is our right. And when this right is not fulfilled we become jealous, nasty, back-biting beings that just care about what they deserve. A lot of people get trampled in this. A lot of people just become foot notes in History.

I guess, that is what we all fear in the end. Fear of being forgotten and discarded, like that carton of sour milk you just found in your fridge. Is this a real fear? A fear that if you ignore you will die right away?
Let's compare that with a real valid fear. Imagine you are standing in the middle of the road, playing with a yoyo, and suddenly out of nowhere you hear a loud blaring horn of a goods truck speeding towards you, five fucking feet away from your face!! That tickling sensation of butterflies in your stomach that you would feel right then is what I call "real fear". Real fear that if you ignore, you will most certainly die. (Now in this situation even if you don't, you will most certainly die, but that's an entirely different argument.)

The fear of being forgotten or not being recognized is not a "real fear". That's just being scared that society is not going to accept you as a worthy member of its communion. You know what I say to that?

FUCK DAT SHIT!!!

Society is the biggest fuck up of the modern world. If we really want to progress as a species, we need to put something big right up Society's "behind" and blow it up. *BOOM* We need to wipe Society off the face of the earth. But, that would be paradoxical, wouldn't it? Destroying millions and millions of lives in order to move forward... Wait, we're already doing that! *scraps idea* NEXT!!

But, it's true. You, me and the person next to you don't need to be afraid of a pack of wolves tearing our limbs apart. "What?!! You flunked your degree? OMFHBBMOG!!! (Oh My Freaking Holy Blasphemous Bitchy Mother Of God)......You're a dead man walking, you know that? Dead man."

Aren't we supposed to be an evolved race? Why does it feel like we are evolving in the WRONG FUCKING DIRECTION. You don't believe me? I have proof. Look at the Judges of the supreme court of India.

And finally, I'd like to end this post by dedicating this song to all the Gay Men and Women around the world, especially in India. Perseverance and Strength. Enjoy.
Manowar - Warriors of The World

Sweet Juana

Being a druggie is hard. Thanks to the world, society and governments all over, people believe that we druggies just sit and do nothing. I beg to differ. We do more than sober people. Just that nobody sees it. 

Well sure if you actually sit down and compare our lives, you could come to the conclusion that sober people have more productive lives. But, let's step outside of norms for the time being. What does one mean by being productive? 

If you think being productive means fulfilling what the government says you must do to, to  be a law abiding and useful citizen, well, ummm..... slave much?

Well, I'm not calling you a blind minded fuck who believes you're not being a slave to the government, I'm just saying it could end up there if we are not careful. Just saying. But that's just my Anti-State Sentiments(ASS) bubbling to the surface. You are free to disregard it. 

I simply feel a government that is ok with this 

.....is well, upto something. Don't you think? No? Oh ok, maybe it's just me then. 

So where was I? Oh yes, druggie productivity. Hmm. Right. One second. Need to formulate this a little. 

We druggies are intellectual beings that create, destroy and recreate in the world of the Never. We come across brilliant ideas, innovations, discoveries, truths, and so much more. Though, before we can do something about it, you sober people attack us and we are forced to defend ourselves. In which time, that Train of Thought has left our mind space, and returned back to the world of the Never. Opportunity knocks only once, and we were too busy opening the door for you (sober people). Come on, sober people, cut us some slack will ya?

Do you even know how hard it is to cross a busy street when you are dead stoned, and when it is freaking dark? There are balls of light zooming at you from different directions, and you can't afford to panic and freak out and shit. You need to walk straight, in an orderly fashion, so as to not confuse the oncoming traffic into making stupid mistakes and causing a huge fucking "pile on" of a road accident. But it's possible. We do it on a daily basis. We carry a huge burden, and we carry it without you ever getting to know about it. 

Now, as I talk about being high, I would like to remove the-high-induced-by-C6H12O6 out of this, because...haha, when it comes to that area - it's every man for himself. Let's just leave that there. I have no control over what the fuck I do when I'm drunk. And that shit is legal. Government logic. I guess money really speaks to them, huh? But, I shouldn't be one to judge.

And Marijuana is illegal!? 

"Of course! That's wrong. Why would we openly start selling something that will put our buddies, the tobacco companies all over, in jeopardy? No no no no. No fucking way. I sentence this idiot to five years of imprisonment for disrupting peace, spreading harmful ideas, and challenging my sense of logic. Take him out of my sight." 

........

........

........

Sorry, I got a little emotional there. Just my ASS acting up again. I should control it. The CIA might read this. (CIA, if you are reading this - I will NOT marry juana. I swear. I promise. I am against racism. You should be too. No no. Just saying.) 

So are you getting my drift here? Do you understand why it no longer pays to be the law abiding citizen anymore? (Actually when did it ever?) Anywhooo. I think I over used my Freedom of Expression Right. Should shut up. And give something sweet for the ears. 

May Juana bless the soul of Dick Dale & the Del-Tones for this song:

Miserlou By Dick Dale & the Del-Tones in the movie Pulp Fiction. 

Ramblin' Bamblin'

Alright, I think this blog of mine requires a little bit of revamping. The quality of posts has been a little on the downside.

But I guess I think I need to first come to terms with the fact that I am boring. Both to myself and other people. And I indulge myself a lot. A lot of the time.

Anyways, as I attempt to write the blog post, I find myself feeling empty. Unable to churn out anything for the moment. I guess I can't. Not that I usually churn out something all the time. Anyway, enough of self-retrospection.

I've been reading quite a few blog posts recently. Good blog posts. So good that I start to feel insecure about myself as I finish reading them. I wonder how are people so well informed all the time? Where do they find all this time to keep themselves informed? Maybe because they are not in their world inside their little heads like I am all the time. Maybe that should tell me something.

And a blog shouldn't be about me questions to myself.

Let's end on that note.

And this song:
El Salvador by Grand Funk Railroad

Alone in the dark.

What do you do when the world doesn't make sense to you? Or how do you learn to cope with the world when you realize your own uselessness?

Do you accept fate or whatever you want to term it? Or do you stand up despite the circumstances and be labeled arrogant?

I don't know how to answer these questions. All I can see is my future crumbling down and turning into dust, constantly. How do you walk into a future like that, without the slightest sense of fatality and discouragement?

Where does one the find courage to walk into darkness knowing things will come to an end? Where does one find the strength to do that? How do I that, when I myself am convinced that I cannot do anything about it?

Belief? But how do you know that your belief is not blind when you are the only person who believes whatever you believe? How can you test that it is not utter horseshit? And by chance, if you do know that it is not horseshit, how do you convince the world to share your perspective?

Ultimately how do you know that you yourself aren't speaking horseshit?
When you are in doubt how do you convince the world to think otherwise?

Where do you find absolute answers to such questions, that pop up all the time. In my experience, there is no place in the world that can answer these questions with absolute certainty. The world at best can provide you with suggestions or advice. How do I answer these unanswerable questions?

I cannot to ignore them and go on because, the world, the society demands answers. Answers that I do not have, which in the eyes of the world is equivalent to being to wrong and 'in over one's head'.
Does not having a plan for the future make me a liability to society? Cannot I not live in the moment and improvise?

What is the point of making plans if life does not let you keep them? What good is a plan that will be discarded before it is implemented? What good is it to plan when you don't know the future yourself?

These just maybe thoughts of a incapable, lazy mind. My mind. I'm not the best the human race has to offer, in fact, I maybe the worst. Zero productive and a large waste of space.

How does one combat one's own uselessness, even after knowing so? I know the answer to that, and the answer is - to do something. Something that has significance and meaning in this world and to the people in this world. But, knowing is not equivalent to doing. It takes a lot to convert the former into the latter. Something, I fear, I might not have.

"All words and no action." I fear my own fatality. My own lack of inspiration to do, to create something in this world. This will be the end of me. And all, I feel is helplessness. Watching myself slowly burn down to the ground and all I am doing is watching it happen; distant, unmotivated and fatalistic.

I am afraid that I will not have the strength to save myself when the time comes. And I don't think that there could be anything worse than that.

At times like these, I wish an angel would appear out of nowhere and guide me in to the light. But, all I have is myself. There is not much comfort I can take from that. But I guess, that will have to do, for now. 

Stagnant waters.

Where is the fire for life? Where is the passion to go on?
I have lost the purpose to go on. I can't find it in this huge pile of relations, fuck ups, people, expectations and responsibilities. I cannot feel it anymore - the urge to push forward and create something.

My life is like a ship left on cruise control. Aimlessly floating in space, without a destination, without a course. What is the point of a ship that goes nowhere?

Question after question is all that runs through my mind. One unanswerable question after another. Each one bearing down on me like dead weights, not to be lifted until answered.

It is not nice to carry so many unanswered questions. They become heavier and heavier every time they pop in into my head. A repetitive burden that latches onto you and doesn't let go.

They follow me every where. Everywhere I go, bubbling up to the surface and then stewing in the recesses of my mind. Forever occupying whatever free mind space that is left.

I cannot answer these questions. If I could, things would have been far more simpler. How do I find the answers to all these questions? Should I spend my time resolving them one at a time or wait and let the answers come to me?

I can't wait much longer. I must break free from this burden. There are places that I must go to, things I must experience and all that I have to give to this world. There are so many journeys to make. Yet, I am stuck here, anchored to this state of mind, without knowing how to go free.

My ship yearns to move forward. It creaks in its static position waiting to feel the wind, the thrill of momentum.

The scenery around is getting boring and seems to instill waves of lethargy.

Now I know what a dog on a leash feels like. Now I understand.

Tamed beasts cannot carve their own path. It is the wild ones that have the privilege to do so, but living in the wild has its costs.  

World in negative.

It's fucked up. It's all so fucked up.
Vision has become a passive tool now. Used only to navigate and blend through crowds. Colors have faded out of focus, leaving a barren topography of the world for me to stare at.

It's seems so unreal. As if I'm locked up inside a large hall, sitting alone amidst endless rows of chairs, while images of my life endlessly flash on the giant screen. My eyes are glued to the screen, but nothing stimulates a response. 
A giant clock laboriously ticks to acknowledge the passing time, as new images keep pouring onto the screen, forever repainting the canvas, forever stealing the focus of my eyes. My mind is lost in thoughts of worlds that will never exist. Simply because they are figments of my imagination and wishful thinking. Worlds that stimulate positive emotions, making me unused to the bitter taste of reality.  

What does that say about me? Doesn't that mean I'm delusional? 
I don't know, but it has made me a prisoner of my mind. 

The stench of this prison is bearing down on me, spurning fatalistic speeches about life, misery and the meaning of existence. Hoping that such ramblings will result in necessary catharsis.  

Without a meaning for life you cannot go on living. You need it to build a purpose, a future and finally a meaningful life. I recently lost mine. I'm looking for a new one. 

My eyes are scanning the world for that something. Something that just might ignite color back into my world. Restore the will to survive, and continue to provide fuel for future times. Is there such a thing out there?
Will I catch it before it disappears for good? 

All unanswerable questions. Endlessly surfacing from the depths of my mind. 

That is just one part of this bizarre mind-space. Though, one that has all my attention these days. Daily life has become a redundant obligation. Soon I could be mistaken for a walking zombie. 

A frenzy of images still flood the screen. It has never stopped.
It gets worse during sleep and dreams. There is nothing telling me - "It isn't real".

Torment: The End.

Do you know what happens when a vase is broken and stuck back together repeatedly? It eventually breaks so much that it cannot be mended back anymore. In fact, the only way you can get the vase back to how it looked at first, is to melt it down and remake that whole thing, from scratch.

So does a heart that has been broken in a similar fashion. My heart.
Not the organ that pumps blood into my body, but that non-existent organ that pumps life into my conscious and subconscious being. The source of my emotions, thought, passion and Ego. The very thing that defines me. The thing that makes me do what I do.
Now, it lays broken. Unwilling to mend back together, because it knows, it can't be broken anymore. It can't take it. It won't take it.

Birds chirp outside my balcony. The morning wind carries their cries to all those who can hear. The sun is about to rise. The world will turn again. These things would stir any soul into action, injecting life into them.

Today, mine lays still. Unaffected by chirps, untouched by words.
The heart is broken. But it will go on. It will still work. It will churn its gears; despite being pounded into scrap metal. It has become an expert at doing that now.

Damage gets to everything in time. With each pounding, something is lost.
Piece by piece, too much has crumbled down from my heart. Lost. Irretrievable.

It has retreated deep into the dungeons of my being now. Even I can't reach it anymore. No matter how bad I miss it.

But there is a silver lining. A very thin one.

This marks the end of a chapter and the beginning of a new one. One that I don't even understand or can predict. One that will change things forever.

For those who have been reading my posts....

The torment in my mind has officially ended. The storm has blended into my world. It has seeped into everything it has touched. It has become a part of me.

The resistance has ended. Now I patiently wait, for the next turmoil in queue. 

Torment: A lull in the storm.

I know that I generally talk about my life as if it were the worst thing to happen. As if I hate every fiber of my being. I do, but there are moments of brief experiences of pure emotion that emulate a "good life". Brief moments of pure existence accentuated through external stimulus. Stimulus that goes along the lines of talking, watching, being and interacting with other kindled "souls" who are compassionate and empathetic despite their circumstances. It instills something in you. Something that makes you want to live on into the next day, with the assurance that not everything in life is bitter.

They are the moments that lull the stormy torment of my mind. They are the ones that validate meaning in life. They are the ones that make you want to fight for meaning in life.

They are scarce, found in the most unexpected of places, visible only to the seeking eye; which invigorate you with pure emotion, making you feel alive, such that you are left feeling glad that you were alive to witness them. Though I say it with such grandeur, they are not grand, they are not phenomenal. They are simple, pure and touching. The last one being the most important of all.

In my life, these are the moments.....

-Looking at the face of the person I love. The very existence of the person, the meaning that faces invokes in me, makes available a surge of energy, a fire, that enables me to break free from my chains and rise with the occasion. There is no real exchange of energy happening. Just having that face in front of me, what it means to me, creates a feeling so strong and pure that it almost seems real.

-The old lady who comes to clean the building I stay in. She comes everyday, whether it's hot, cold or "sick". She leaves her chappal outside the building. She cleans every floor. She takes out everyone's garbage.
From the first day w met, she never drops an opportunity to have a little chat and to ask how I'm doing, even though our relationship begins and ends on the veranda outside my room; our own spot where we have our little chats. From our "little chats" I've come to learn that her circumstances aren't in any way pleasant. Hell, they are unfair. Yet, I've seen her express only emotions so far - a bright smile that lights up every inch of her face, and tear filled eyes followed by a crackling voice. The later, occurred only twice, when she was weeping for her children. Otherwise, her face is brighter than a sunflower, despite her dark skin tone.
When she comes around, my mind calms down. It forgets about all it's worries, because my mind itself knows they can wait until we've said our goodbyes.

-Standing on the terrace, watching the world zoom by under my feet (or so to speak), unaware of my presence looking down on them. It shows me how big the world really is. Take the number of livings things in the world, multiply it by the number of worlds in each of these minds; that's how big the world really is. Compared to that I am not even a fraction. I'm a decimal. Insignificant by sheer number itself, forget everything else. It tells me I'm not the only lonely one around. There are millions more, and some of them don't even know it. It calms the tides of despair in my head.

The most beautiful things to experience, that are available, are present among us, they are present in us. But, we all have taken human contact and interaction so much for granted that we've forgotten how to appreciate them. Everyone of us, even me. But that is just an after-thought.

These are my moments of peace, strength and tranquility. They are vibrant, strong and generate from within. Nonetheless, they are moments. Random, spaced out, short-lived.

After all, they are just lulls in the storm.

  

Torment: Continued.

It'a all so lonely. So quiet. So distant. So much like a dream. I keep waiting, hoping I'll wake up. I close my eyes, open them again; nothing changes. Everything is the same. I am trapped, or that's how my body feels. My mind cannot go beyond these physical boundaries. It's stuck here forever, in a body of flesh and bones that give  away at the slightest impact. After that, where will it go? Nowhere. It'll end right there.

So, there is no escape. Just a window to look at the world outside, and limbs to navigate it. No purpose. No goal. Just raw existence. Living, breathing, watching. Mute, dead, hollow. Time ticks by, without actually ticking. The end is coming, it's one second closer every time. The end of existence is coming. Only IT knows when.

It will take everything away from me. Everything I know and feel. The world will be gone, but the rest of will still have me, or what's left of me.

So why am I living? Just to die someday, and remain dead forever. I don't really know, but that's the way it seems to be for everyone else. All those who lived and died before us. They are never coming back. My life is no more important than theirs. My beliefs are no more firmer than theirs. My desires are no more stronger than theirs. They all are like me. I am like of all them. We are no different, just separated by time and body. I am no more alone than they were. We all are alone. In our minds, in our thoughts. We live. We die. The rest of it is meaningless. Everything we do, say and hear, holds meaning so long as we live. That's why the dead don't go to schools or attend concerts. Dead people don't react. To them, a dagger piercing their skin is the same as ice cream dripping down their hands. When everything around is the same, there can no meaning, no distinction.

But that's just my mind talking. It loves putting me down. It loves driving me towards insanity. It loves to make me contemplate death.

It maybe because everything around me makes me wish I was never born. 

Torment: Chapter 1.

I haven't really written anything in a while now. Haven't completed anything I have started. My mind is tired. It just wants to rest for a while. It just wants someone to say "It'll all be OK." But nothing really happens.

Blocked. Every new day is a dragging experience, going on until it is replaced by another. "Time is flying". But, nothing is really happening. Every thing is still; stubborn, alien. The air is suffocating my lungs; not setting them free, not letting them die. Time seems still, yet it is flying by. Am I a part of this world or am I trapped inside this mind and body?

Where does my life lead to? Where does it end?...

What am I fighting for?

Why can't I know the answer?

Why....?

There is no answer. Just silence, as always.

WHY?!
...
...
...

Is there even a future...?

There is no answer.
Just silence.
As always. 

The Gamble.

A lot of time has passed. Things around me are changing, for good, maybe. Uncertainty colours everything i see and hear. Doubt and fear cloud my mind.

It's like a coin toss; before it lands to give a verdict, you can imagine the different outcomes of that one little action and try to comprehend the various possibilities that those outcomes can trigger. As so long as it is air borne, you can let your mind run free.

Once it lands, the verdict is decided. There is no turning back.

But while the coin is still in its mid-air flip, while it is still tracing out its trajectory, our minds are locked in this intense struggle with reality, noticing every single flip of the coin, its path, speed, trying very hard to calculate what the result will be, trying to outwit chance itself. The intensity escalates as the coin rises and falls. It peaks just before the coin lands. When the coin ultimately hits the ground, so do our delusions, shattering on impact, leaving us face to face with stark reality that cannot be altered by the mind alone.

Life itself feels like a coin toss. A journey where anything can happen and where every flip and turn accounts to the end result. Ultimately, it doesn't matter if the coin showed heads half way through or tails three seconds before landing. What really matters is the final count, the end point, the last flip of the coin, after which the coin shall remain either heads or tails, forever, until it is picked up and tossed again.

We can often lose ourselves inside the vast spaces of our own minds, lock ourselves in and become mere observers of the world outside, mute and distant, as the rest of the world buzzes past our ears. It is amazing how fragile our minds can be.

I am lost. My synergy with the world has vanished. My mind is my only refuge. I wish to free myself from my own illusions, but there is no time. A single coin rises up in my mind's eye, its every flip echoing through the emptiness of my mindspace, and my mind is at it again.

When nothing happens......

Stuck. Blocked. Sober. Distant. Uncertain. Waiting. 

The perils of a Human Mind.

The world is our playground. We are thrown into it all at once without any kind of manual to make sense of it. So, over time we make our own. We see observe learn and reproduce, and go over this cycle a million times, and each time we do it, we get better at it. Eventually, we begin to sync our world with the world outside. We begin to understand how it works, we begin to learn tricks to survive in it. In other words, we call that growing up. And as we are growing up, we sometimes ask ourselves what is the meaning of life? What am I doing here? and Why am I here? Everytime we ask ourselves these questions, we don't really get an answer. There is a wondering silence which is broken by that little voice in our heads that answers this question for us. Each of us comes up with our answer, and we either find peace or remain disappointed at it. When it is the latter, we ask ourselves again what the meaning of life is and hope to find a better answer.

Some of us spend our entire lives trying to find the answer. It is not that we never find an answer for it, we do, but these answers generally have an expiry date, after which point they just stop making sense and we have to find new ones to replace them. It is important to replace these answers, because like a power source, they keep us running in this gigantic race called Life. They help us cope with the world, so that we are not left behind and forgotten in the abyss of history. After all, we ARE going to die, and if we don't do something that others can remember us by, then even in death we shall be disappointed in ourselves.

Sometimes, what happens is that life keeps throwing inexplicable situations at you, that keep you asking yourself what the meaning of life is just to make sense of what is happening. As usual, you are greeted with a Zen like silence where you come up with your own answer and get through whatever debacle that got you quizzing in the first place.

Sometimes, it is not that easy. Sometimes, even the answer you come up with is not enough. You keep wondering what the meaning of life is and kill yourself trying to find the answer. It gets even more frustrating when you see that others around seem to have found it and are getting on with their lives. Sometimes, we actually kill ourselves. If that happens, you've the found the ultimate answer that brings you peace. But, when you don't have the courage to take that bit of initiative you are left in the same shit hole of a question.

There is one question and a million different answers, each thought up by a different individual. Each one being a figment of our thought. Therefore, one answer cannot be more valid than the other. So there can be never be a true answer.

Now, if there can be no true answer, how have the rest fared better than me and seem to figured out this elusive riddle? So, this means that their answers aren't true, they just believe it is. Then, it ultimately boils down to what we believe is true? Then all this shit and crap we see around us is a consequence of a whole orchestra of belief systems? Then if it is only belief systems, then doesn't that mean that one belief is valid as the other? or that one belief system is no more valid than the other?

So basically, what human beings have fought for, cried for, worked for, and died for is just a figment of our minds? That our worlds are precariously built on systems that originate from our minds which by themselves aren't real. If an alien race were to look at us from outside, would we just look like a bunch of idiots creating so much ruckus over nothing? If so, then who is that mastermind out there who has got us believing otherwise, destroying my peace of mind and having me recite this whole drama because the of various crisis-es I must deal with for existing in a society?

As usual, the Zen like silence ensues. So there is no answer. So if there is no answer, the question must be  invalid too, bringing me to a dead end where I have successfully deconstructed my world.

The only conclusion I can some to is that we Humans are a delusional race, and we shall continue to delude ourselves till we meet our graves and we shall pass on this delusion to our future generations so that they do it too, for generations to come.

I bet some old dude two thousand years ago thought the same thing, and many more after him. That is all.

May science be my escape, until even that is proved invalid. And I pray that it isn't, because that would be the end of us all.