boogerballs

Department of Suicide

2007-05-05T23:07:00.000+05:30

New Galli, October, 25, 2024
Five years ago, the Supreme Court interpreted that the constitution protects not only the right to life but also the right to death. In its landmark judgment, the honorable court observed that human beings have reached a phase where their choices cannot be judged solely on the desire to survive. A complex consciousness, like ours, moves far beyond the evolutionary fabric and searches for a different meaning for each individual. For many, it may be death, among others. The honorable court further observed that if the 40 crore people living below the poverty line chose to die, then there will be a dearth of people to tax, to rule. The prosecutions argument, according to the ruling, had concerns more from the people who will lose a substantial percentage of people to "rule" upon. The priests will lose the faithful, the politicians - their vote banks, old people - support in old age and so on. The court asked the defense - 'What would you do if there is a mass flight of people from this country to another one? Will you create a regulation to stop them?'
One of the clauses in the judgment was the creation of a ministry for suicide. The ministry had the responsibility to creating various suicide "points" across the country where painless methods will be provided to aid swift death. These suicide points will also contain counseling centers which have to be definitely provided to potential "clients". The ministry was free to decide on the fees that would be charged based on a suitable pricing structure.

Today, we have with us Dr. Karunakaran who has been a pioneer in this field. It was his original paper on metaphysics that was the rallying point behind passing of similar laws in many countries. Dr. Karunakaran was also the chief architect of the country's suicide point and support network. This interview was conducted by The International Editor’s Association, for their International Editorial Magazine.
International Editorial Magazine (IEM): Welcome to this show, Doctor
Doctor Karunakaran (DK): Thank you very much.
IEM: Sir, first of all we would like to know how you feel when someone addresses you as the Father of Right to Die.
DK: It is not an easy title to deal with. However, as an academician and a student of philosophy, I feel proud. On the other hand, as a human being I sometimes have difficulty in digesting it. Initially, when my paper was published, I received, humbly, the praises from across the world. One of the letters congratulated me on solving the final puzzle of human existence. At the same time, there were incidents where my effigies were burnt, my house was attacked, accusations of trivializing human life thrown at me from all directions. It has been a difficult yet interesting decade for me.
IEM: I understand that you refused to relocate to one of the developed nations.
DK: That is correct. My belief was that if I am wrong, which in this case was horrible, my people should judge me.
IEM: And you seemed to have passed that test and come out on the right side of truth.
DK: Yes, you see, my paper was like philosophy 101. If you look at Carl Bright's paper which developed my findings further, you will find that everyone was thinking in the same direction for a long time but needed a small helping hand. As the subsequent publications gained momentum, the soundness of the basics were enhanced.
IEM: Can you explain to us how the suicide point system works?
DK: Sure, I will be glad to.
The suicide point system is based on a reverse right to information model of transactions. In a RTI model, a citizen gets a view of the entire machinations of the government and the bureaucracy through a single window. The suicide point allows the government and the bureaucracy to get a single view of the citizen. This is accomplished by making the suicide point act as a conduit between the citizen and the government. But before I go into this system, let me clarify a few things first.
A) The architecture of the system rests on the very fear of the ruling class and the power hungry. They may be the government, the local goon or the priests of any religion. They are afraid that there may not be enough to rule. So suicide prevention is better than complete apathy.
B) The suicide points have citizen facing panels of some very hard working and brilliant people who try to analyze why the person wants to commit suicide. If the issue is personal, then the expert team of psychiartists try to resolve the problem by various scientific means. If the problem is related to apathy of the government, like potholes, faulty construction, bad debts and so on, then 100% assurance is given that the concerned department will solve the problem within an agreed frame of time depending on the size of the problem. In the meanwhile the aggrieved citizen will be compensated in kind or cash.
C) Just like the law against murder, there is a law against stopping people from choosing to die. No one can be forced to die and no one can be forced to live.

IEM: Sorry to interrupt you Doctor, but why go through all this when it is cheaper to let a person die. And what about the people affected by a person's death. How are they compensated?
DK: These are very fair questions. The Ministry of Finance has done a cost benefit analysis and realized that if the suicide rate grows at 10% per annum, the GDP growth rate will slow down by a certain amount in 10 years. This slow down is so huge that it was not acceptable by the government and the political parties. We are not only talking about poor farmers but also affluent middle class professionals who are more philosophical about existence than the former. An average upper middle class software professional earns 6-10 Lacs per annum of which say 2-3 lacs go to the Income Tax department. This is equal to around 40 lacs after various adjustments over a period of ten years. If 100 people like this commit suicide then the govt is poorer by 40 crores. This is one of the many aspects of losing valuable citizens. So we decided that the entire system, even though it looks otherwise, should be a prevention system and solve grievances of the common citizen. So we also had to have a solid "formula" to identify the really genuine cases.
Answering your second question, yes, there would be many cases when the subject's suicide would impact a number of other people. However, after a lot of discussions we decided that since we are going to concentrate on prevention, we should just let that be. If you have noticed, the number of state sponsored colleges providing psychology in various forms as a discipline has increased. These are the people who help others get back to a better life.
IEM: But doesn't this mean that the government will be bearing the cost of a person's depression? What about the grievances against the government? Won't the government spend unnecessary attention and lots of money on individual day to day problems?
DK: In fact, the government already does that. If you look at a state sponsored alcohol de-addiction center, you will not find any difference. The cost associated with the additional effort of, say, helping a farmer clear his debts have also been a part of the normal budgets. All this actually makes the government more efficient. Higher tax collections, better roads, reduction in riots and increase in communal harmony are examples of the same.
IEM: So tell us Doctor, how does a citizen commit suicide?
DK: It is more of mercy killing than anything else. The person has to simply fill a form, talk to the various trained personnel and he is then given the lethal dose of ******.
IEM: How many have applied for this procedure since the inception of this system?
DK: Roughly, 2 million people.
IEM: Wow! So many people want to die?
DK: Remember these are the registered cases. Lot of potential candidates are stopped by their religious beliefs and many by a sense of duty.
IEM: And how many of them have left us forever?
DK: One.
IEM: Only one? How is that possible?
DK: Remember, our big adventure is to prevent people from dying as well as to help them lad a better life.
IEM: Yes, I understand that but the figure of one is too small to digest.
DK: It should not be.
IEM: Why is that?
DK: Because he was the happiest man alive. There were no problems to solve.
...

Accident

2007-05-05T22:41:00.000+05:30

…(shouting)
‘Nyah Nyah Nyah…I don’t like this, I don’t like that. When will you stop whining?’
‘Watch your tongue!’
‘Not a single day has gone by…blah, blah, blah and blah, blah, blah.’
‘I said watch your tongue, you jerk.’
‘What you gonna do? Leave me? I am sick and tired of this shit. Wait, let me just break this china to aggravate you further.’ Breaks. ‘There you go.’
‘You son of a bitch. I am going to kill you. You have made my life miserable, you bastard.’ Looks for a weapon.
‘Day and night, the same shit, the same issues, the same headaches, the same sad stories. What do I care if your boss is an asshole? You don’t even listen to what I have to suggest and you accuse me of not listening. What do I care if you best friend didn’t invite you to her wedding? Big deal. Why does it have to screw our lives?’ Doesn’t notice that she has found a weapon, a frying pan.
‘You are gonna pay mister’. Swings the pan, hits him on the head. ‘Take it you asshole’.
Cries out in pain. Blood.
‘You bitch, you sorry bitch.’ Lunges towards her. Slips. Head hits the mahogany table. No movement.
‘Oh my God! Hari! Hari! Get up Hari. Don’t you do this to me Hari!’
Death.
‘What have I done? Oh god, what have I done?’ Starts crying.
Knocking on the door. She is startled. Confused. Springs into action. Cannot move body. Runs towards the door, changes her mind and runs back. Stops in the middle. Takes two steps towards the door again. Changes her direction and goes into the bedroom. Brings a large bed sheet and throws it over his body. Wipes her tears. Knocking on the door, again.
Arranges her hair and dress.
‘Coming’.
Walks towards the door slowly, trembling.
Opens the door.

“Cut. Great shot”, shouts the director.

Dream

2007-05-01T15:18:00.000+05:30

Ramesh was half asleep. He kept on dreaming that he was opening a door, again and again. What lay behind the door, his dream would not tell him. He got irritated in his sleep. He had to get out of this loop. He knew he had to wake up. The moment this thought entered his mind, he knew he was dreaming. He shook himself awake and got up. He felt better now. He tried to check the time. He had to switch on the light to do that. He yawned and got up. He went up to the switch board and fumbled for the switch. He pressed the one on the left, for the bulb. Nothing happened. He tried switching it off and on a few times. Nothing.
"Damn, no power!", he muttered.
No light, he felt scared. He tried not to think about it. He tried to think about the presentation tomorrow. He was supposed to train a team of new joinees on direct sales techniques. And suddenly his mind was back on the darkness. It seemed that space around him was solid and full of scary creatures, about to caress his back. He froze for a moment, his ears intently searching for any sound. And he moved immediately, trying to feel his way to the door to the balcony as fast as possible. His fear grew uncontrollably. He was shivering, thinking that he would not make it to the balcony. He found the door and started feeling for the latch.
"Come on, come on", he urged himself. His fingers were moving as fast as his heart. He didn't want to notice any sound or whisper he heard. And he managed to open the door and almost threw himself outside.
He saw the lights of the city, fewer in number yet comforting, and relaxed.
The nice breeze was sufficient to dry his sweat. He heard a clock strike 3 in the neighborhood. He decided to sit on the chair outside for a while before this fear subsided.
That is when someone tapped him on his shoulder. Ramesh froze like a rock.
"Hello Ramesh", the voice greeted him softly.

Ramesh woke up with a start, his heart pounding like crazy.
"It was just a dream, it was just dream", he soothed himself.
He wiped his face and slowly got out of bed.

He went up to the switch board and fumbled for the switch. He pressed the one on the left, for the bulb. Nothing happened. He tried switching it off and on a few times. Nothing.
"Damn, no power!", he muttered.

Blind Man

2007-04-29T22:20:00.000+05:30

I am blind. I was always blind. My wife could not agree more. That is what she said when she left me. I did not try to stop her. She left, hoping to hear me plead with her, ask her to stay a bit longer. I did not let her know. My face was probably frozen with regret.
She was my sight. Now I am just another blind man looking for light.
I smoke a lot too. She used to disagree with this habit. I can still see her pausing her face and giving me that stranger's reluctant look. She had stopped asking me to quit the day we got married. And how I used to crave to hear her ask me to give it up. She never spoke about it. And now I will never hear that voice again.
Everyone around me recognizes me. They greet me when I pass by. I try to place them from their voices. Voices that have left more voids than they have filled.
Yesterday was different. Yesterday I saw her. She was standing far away with her back turned towards me. I had not expected to see her here. She was waiting for me. Or that is what I would like to think. She turned around slowly, with full knowledge of my presence. But she was still far away.
She looked at me and smiled. I had to go and meet her.
I started walking towards her. I watched her relax a bit as if she was thankful that I made the first move. I was happy. I wanted to talk to her, hold her hand.
She was waiting for it too.
But she was still far away. The sun had started setting behind her. I had to reach her before the sun had set. I had to run to reach her. And I started running. I was running faster than I had ever before. Yet I was at the same place. I was scared. I did not want to let her go today. I had to run faster.
The distance did not decrease. She was disappointed. I knew I had failed her again. And I could not run anymore. I stopped. I sat down on the ground, exhausted. I was ashamed of myself. I buried my face between my knees and started to cry. I had cried before but not like this. I did not care who heard me, I did not care for anything else. I wished I was dead. It was as if this was the day when my life really ended.
She put her hand on my shoulder and said - "Don't cry. I am here."
I looked up to find her standing right behind me. She had decided to walk the remaining mile.
I saw her smiling face and knew that I was happy. No sorrow. No regrets.
"It's time", she said.
I nodded in agreement and got up.
I turned to look at what was left before we walked on, holding each others hands.
The last of the mourners were leaving as the sun set into the glorious redness of the sky.
The cemetery was empty now. All that remained were my ashes.

Your Enemy

2006-12-19T22:35:00.000+05:30

Stand Up! Do you see me coming now?
One more enemy to defeat,
You laugh, when you see me crying loud,
Have I already given up?

Will you wait, till the blood dries up?
Watch knees give way to the feet,
Let the words take shape from a dying mouth,
Before the endless sighs only remain?

Or will I say no more or shout at you,
To let you know tomorrow that I will defeat you?
And not be one more of the shrunken masses of beaten souls,
With sunset in my eyes and death on my door?

Who were the ones that have fought this battle?
Where did they find the strength of the lost?
Did you lend them the years, taught them the weapons,
Carefully designed to bring their downfall?

Was that the tower built by you,
Where they could almost touch the sky?
Did you paint their fingers blue?
The final mocking act before their fall.

Sages dead and living tell your tale,
How they fought to stay obedient to you.
That it is true dying is the end of life,
It is life that you rule with the morbid mood,
Under warm shadows and dark lights,
Death remains the absurdness for the unfulfilled kind.

If I surrender now, will you still keep me alive?
Tomorrow when everyone lays down their arms,
Will you be ready to rule the barren earth?
Or do you know that there will be men to fool,
Who will still worship the very name of you?
Purpose will be their very goal,
They will buy life at the price of their soul.

Hark! Can you hear the rising voice?
Freshening up the air with a will to die?
Happy men turning their backs to you,
Your true enemy is a friend of mine.

And I laugh, I slip through your fingers.

Seventy Six

2005-12-31T10:44:00.000+05:30

Twelve months, passed by several times,
Carrying the weight of 24 hours, so many days and nights,
Countless seconds, like millions of miles,
Stay away those frozen smiles.

The paper sticks horse and the cardboard box,
Tin cans and giant locks.
Muddy roads with inviting looks,
Bruises got from fighting imaginary crooks.

The page of the diary where they live,
Is covered with dust and forgotten links,
The heavy air smells of time,
In a room where memory is piled.

Once today, the mind floated back,
Like yesterday, on a flying mat.
Found all the laughter that it could pick
But all slipped away in the journey back.

They won’t come back, that’s what they say,
They like the corner where they stay.
In the mind covered by whitened hair,
By the sun, moon and the clouds gray.

They keep the blue sky and the green grass,
And the moon seen through a crystal glass,
Yet, the longing they allow me to keep,
In a distance land, where I am seventy six.

Prose

2005-09-02T14:03:00.000+05:30

Losing is good. It makes one understand the importance of enjoying victory while it lasts. So if you are willing to raise the stakes high enough, I am ready to lose myself.

The Fortunate Son

2005-08-24T11:53:00.000+05:30

"The very fact that we are here negates the hypothesis that corporal punishment when used on children reduces their IQ", he said. He was the smartest. Actually, he still is.
His father had also read the news article. Funny how pop psychology becomes news. And he had taken a different stance when his dad had pointed out the article to him.
"There is no respect for discipline nowadays. If you had been in my place then you would have known that I have gone easy on you." his father had complained.
"Thank you father, for the consideration. I am deeply touched by your concern and controlled violence", he wondered whether the sarcasm was too much for his short tempered father.
"Son, you should be grateful to me and your mother. If we had let you run around rather than making you study you wouldn't have been where you are", informed his father.
"Maybe I did not want to be here", he said becoming remotely philosophical.
"Oh, don't give me that. You can say that very easily now that you are decently succesful. Be thankful that you turned out fine", his father said with a hint of irritation.
"No father, you should be thankful that I turned out fine", he said, slowly delivering the line like an actor, making sure that there was nothing left to be discussed.

More nuts

2005-08-11T19:43:00.000+05:30

"Has she gone out?" he asked.
"No, she is right there. She is checking her invisibility suit. That is why you cannot see her." I explained.
"When is she coming back?" he asked.
"Oh, whenever she takes off the suit, she will be back." I replied.
"So, you are waiting for her?" he asked.
"No, I just like the feel of an accountant's office. Especially when I am playing Snake on my mobile phone. I feel completely at home just looking at the amazing number of types of vouchers, slips and so on. The colours of the forms are simply amazing. Whenever I feel like relaxing I come here. Are you here to meet her or do you want to play something too? I can vacate this chair if you want me to. I will come back later. What do you want to do?" I said.
"Thanks. I will come back later", replied the nut and went away.

And thus, another nut was discovered.

Old man and the bird

2005-08-10T13:55:00.000+05:30

"You look sad. What is wrong?", chirped the bird.
"I am old", I said.
"What is wrong with being old?", asked the bird.
"I can't fool myself anymore", I replied.
"Why do you want to do that? I never fool myself", informed the bird.
"Because I know too much to understand that I am the reason behind my regrets", I explained.
"Hold on old man. This sentence is too big for me to comprehend", said the bird, almost falling off the branch.
"You see the young man with earphones, right there?" I asked.
"Yes, I see him. I like the colour of his earphones", the bird answered.
"I was him once. And now I know that I should have danced to the music. I just walked."

White boots, bleeding nose and other things...

2005-08-08T12:00:00.000+05:30

So, I have a pair of white boots. They are things of beauty. And green socks to go with them. But A's reaction was not very encouraging. "Don't try to hide your inadequacies using fancy sports gear." S laughed like a happy bull. He is getting married, he informed A. Thanks to my showing-off couple of minutes back, the discussion again turned towards me. "When are you getting married Vijay?" S was in full flow of Vijay bashing "He is a paedo. The girls he likes are too young to get married". "Hey, that's not true. I have always fallen for older women. One day older or one year or ten years, doesn't matter. But always older." And so I fell into the trap. Luckily, A and I had to go and play football in a part of the city far, far away. We did go and play. It was after a two month break.
The game was good till A tried to do some perverted thing behind my back under the pretense of fighting for the football and banged his nose against the back of my head. He later on confessed that he was trying to smell my neck or something like that. The nuts never leave me in peace. On the way back, I had to drive. It was pretty late by the time we were back.
A was presenting his theory which apparantly explained my supposedly pervert nature. "Seeeeee...I will tell you why S was right. You like older women because you want to hide the true fact. Deep inside your unconscious mind, I like Freud, can see a systematic effort to diffuse the truth into a more socially acceptable orientation."
"You are bleeding and look disgusting. Wipe your nose", I said passing the tissue box.
The Dal was cold and so was the rice.
Life has to be captured, proclaimed the new ad on TV.
I am trying to baby, I am trying to...very hard.

Reasons

2005-08-04T15:22:00.000+05:30

Did anyone ever say - "I am late because I was angry" or stuff like that? Maybe, may be not. Would these reasons be sufficient enough for a man to escape the humiliating lecture that may be just around the corner?
Isn't anger a state where a man loses his sense of space and time and knows only to hurt? How can he be in office on time in that case? Company policies should expand to include human emotions as reasons for deviating from professional course of actions.

Things they say...

2005-07-28T00:47:00.000+05:30

He said that I looked depressed. I informed him, before venturing to fathom the reason of his observation, that I am always depressed. It runs in my family, I said. To this he volunteered a weak, what the hell are you saying, half smile half laughter. So I pushed him to reveal the cause behind his concern (was it?). He said that he had a feeling. I told him that his sensors might be rusty because he should have got this feeling when he met me for the first time.
Actually, he is not supposed to be told such things as he is respected for this judgement and all. It hurts him and all when he learns that he is not respected, that much.

Can you believe the nuts I associate with...frikking nuts.

Things to do...

2005-07-12T23:18:00.000+05:30

They say that i should visit New York. Rather I must. The reasons that they present are in no way related to what I want, or maybe what they want. Actually there is only one reason that they can think of - it is the greatest city in the world and that is why I should make an effort to be there, atleast once before I die. Should I have paid the city a visit? May be later...

Once More Please Tell

2004-10-20T15:28:00.000+05:30

Is there anything known as the "non-Freudian slip of tongue"? No, I do not think so. But my research on Freud’s teachings has only been limited to oedipal complex and the all-pervasiveness of sex. This might indicate that I have no knowledge about slips of tongue and the related mental activities which, in fact is true. However, this is not a story about what I know. Rather a story of what I said.
Let me take you to a time buried in the past, when everything was blue. When the friends you made promised to stick to you for life and mourn your death for the remaining part of it. This is the story of that time, 9:45 a.m. to be precise, on an otherwise completely forgettable day. The day had already started to take its toll and a late night drinking session was now looking like a big mistake. In the meantime the spark plug had generated enough electricity to start the Internal Combustion engine or so the Professor claimed. He also claimed this session was important because most of the exam questions will be drawn from it. That did it. The moment he uttered these words, my head exploded, partly because my sleeping, unattractive head had caught the Professor’s attention and partly due to a reason that completely escapes my mind right now. And in that state of utter helplessness, confusion and stupidity, I uttered the words that became immortal – “Sir, once more please tell!!!”
“Hahahahahaha...”
“Say it again man, please I beg you, say it again, hohahahahah!!!”
“This is the best bosssss… do you have anything similar stocked up somewhere!!!”
“Young man, you should be paying more attention in the class. I know that three years in an engineering college are long enough for anyone to lose interest in almost everything, but you should think about the common man out there working his nuts off just to pay for your education",the Professor pontificated. His careful observations were not over yet. "And by a common man I do not mean your dad. Only a very uncommon man can have a son like you", he noted and after a pause long enough to make my face and ears turn red he said "As of now you can come up to the blackboard and solve the first problem on page 34.”
Whether I solved the problem or not is a different matter altogether, because I remember the day for those immortal words. Those words still remain a bond between us – the people who had once silently agreed to be best friends forever. And till now we have not been able to figure out whether or not it was a Freudian slip. The reason being that whenever one of us went to the library to look it up, the more popular sections of Freud’s works captivated his attention till lunch time. After lunch we never worked – an afternoon nap was considered very healthy by all of us.

(Except for those immortal words the author cannot guarantee the authenticity of anything else in the above piece. He also claims that the past is a figment of his imagination and no one should fiddle with this figment. And he is not telling it once more. :-) )

Hallowed Be My Name

2004-09-27T13:42:00.000+05:30

Whisper to the sky your deepest wish,
Let the wind shiver at your thoughts
See the clouds gather around
To mourn for your unredeemable soul

Run when the rain turns you cold
Thunder growls at you and lighting burns you down
I will stand here and watch you suffer
Run, run like your brothers

I will laugh but I will pretend I care
In your most private moments when you share
Your failures and your dreams
Wrapped in warm tears

If the sun makes you feel bright
I will rob you off it by sending the night
If angels soothe you, give you hope
Ghosts will chase you towards fright

Good or bad, the confusion will stay
In your head, day after day
Right will seem wrong to you
Evil is everything you do

When you scream in your sleep
And dead friends make you weep
Pray to me, beg for mercy
While I punish you for the thoughts you keep

Then one day when the end is near
After countless years of living in fear
Crawl slowly to the grave
For you my arms wait

Remember the love who wont mourn your death
Remember your friends who gave you no place to rest
And the stories, that you were to them
Remember everything till you are dead

I will wait for you till the end of you
And create a new journey with a different view
But again, it will be you versus your shame
Hallowed be my name.

The Dogs Must be Happy

2004-09-21T14:36:00.000+05:30

Everyone is familiar with stray dogs, I presume. So am I. Especially the ones that bark at me when I walk back home in the night. Pretty lovable creatures, I must say. I mean who wouldn't want a couple of rabies carriers escort him/her home every night. The world is an unfriendly place and the dogs definitely bridge that gap. And in all probability, they are unaware of the effect they create on a dark, lonely road. Would they do the same if they knew what goes through the mind of the "barked at" person? Questions like these, I am quite sure, hardly interfere with the daily routine of those dogs, especially at the peak of their mating season. They are spared of such thought provoking inquiries on the very fundamental nature of their existence. Only highly evolved primates like us, in our spare time, can ponder upon such intellectually stimulating issues, thanks to our minds. Whether it is a boon or a curse is debatable, but it sure does provide fodder for crappily written essays. The issues, in the meantime, keep on increasing. Bad thoughts good deeds or good thoughts bad deeds, fight or flee, bite or be bitten, scratch the itch or deny its existence, feign a headache or fake an orgasm, take a shower or use a deo, heads or tails, black or white and so on. It is a miracle that the walls of sanity are still intact, or so I think. Meanwhile, the dogs roam around, barking and breeding. And what more, they live for an average of only 10 earth years.
The dogs are definitely happy.

An Ordinary Life

2004-09-16T10:46:00.000+05:30

When I was a kid, my mother used to tell me that "life is full of surprises". Today, having grown past the age when one is called a kid, I am still waiting for that surprise. Life gets more and more ordinary day after day. The destinations are set, the paths are defined, and the body is fed till it can get up and walks and then...walks. The toothpaste still feels minty, the bread is still prone to fungus if kept in the open for more than a day, the fare meter of the auto rickshaw still looks suspicious just like the driver, there still is no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow and the rainbow is still too far. Washing clothes, keeping the toilets clean, surfing channels on TV, pretending to work at office is the closest life gets to an adventure. Superhuman powers, Jedi like action, neo like revelation or simply a car chase don’t even happen in dreams. Asking something like these is like wanting the moon on the dinner plate, dark side up. No wonder so many people join the army, terrorist groups in order to lead an action filled life. However, they too get a raw deal - rotting wounds, missing limbs, promiscuous wives are a part of the package too. Is it too much to ask for a "Justice League" style of life, those tight fitting clothes and that space station to protect the earth from alien invasions? It seems the answer is yes. We chose this life. And yes, we had a choice. The choice was given to us some hundreds of thousands of years ago - the choice of continuing our existence as monkeys. Some monkey was definitely bright and suggested coming down from the trees. And evolution slapped us in the face by giving us a mind and existential issues. As if it was not a big curse to be branded humans for a long long time to come. Only the people with James Bond like lifestyles will disagree with me. And maybe the people he screwed during his illustrious career. Not sure about that. The monkeys in my head are confused too. They seem to like the idea of hanging upside down better than hitting randomly at the keyboard. But look what they have done - they wrote all this!!!. What are the chances of that?!!
Hmmpff... And thats the maximum excitement I will get on this "extraordinary" day in my "extraordinary" life. Gawwwddd... pleeeeaaasssee give me a light saber ... and please please turn me into Skywalker Jr. while you send your monkey to get the saber. I won’t mind if, after that, I am transported right into the middle of an intergalactic war in a galaxy far far away.
And guess what, no surprises here either.

8:06

2004-09-13T13:37:00.000+05:30

Time, tide and trains wait for no one. Of the three, two are definitely predictable. In other words, with a substantial amount of certainty one can say that "2.00 p.m will definitely happen two hours after 12 noon". Similarly, the same person, without succumbing to the success of the previous prediction, can assert that "Belapur-VT local train departs from Belapur station at 8:06 a.m everyday". This, however, does not qualify him to make predictions about life, universe and everything. That is not the point here. The point is simply a fact, an inevitable event. I hated that event. It made me hate life, hate myself and most of all, hate Bombay, six days a week. It happened anyway. It happened at 8:06 every morning. It was my morning sickness for nine whole months.
8:06 was the time when the day exploded in my face - the beginning of a miserable, one dimensional journey that had to take place, rain or sunshine. It was symbol of my helplessness in the face of the forces of a capitalistic economy. It was a ritual.
I washed myself, and dressed myself in the best clothes before I took those trembling steps towards the first of the many destinations to be reached during the day. I could not be late. A sound, like thousand people blowing a mammoth conch shell, tore the world around as if asking me to surrender myself to it. And I did. It knew I would. Its doors were always open to me. The doors were always open to everyone. When they were closed, it rained, it killed. Like a concentration camp. Everyone was trying to breathe in as much air as possible, afraid that it would get over soon. Everyone knew that everyone else was trying to do the same. There were no boundaries of flesh, no existence in isolation. My sweat, his skin, their pain, everything was one. The journey was endless. And then in a sudden moment of disgust, everyone was spit out like vomit, spilling themselves on the platform. Somehow everyone managed to pick themselves up. They had to. Their journey, like mine was not over. Running, stumbling, screaming, cursing, we ran. A strange brotherhood we had formed. Twice a day, we met, we saw each other beaten by the city, it's so called "fast life" and as our eyes met, we understood. The only way out was to stop running. We knew that but couldn't. It took nine months for me to ease the pain. Another five to erase it. It still haunts me though. I wake up in the middle of the night, fumbling for the watch and right then realising that I am one ritual short in life. I have managed to stop running. I walk nowadays. One day probably I will loathe this too. So, right now, I am just looking for the right place to stop... forever.

Fear of Everything

2004-09-03T15:16:00.000+05:30

On any given normal, bright, sunny day I am as brave as one can be. I sometimes catch myself telling my niece not to be afraid of the dog that haunts the stairs to her house. I even commit explicit acts of bravery by watching horror movies on the bright and sunny morning.
I, however, temporarily forget that the night will come bringing with it fresh fears, right out of the factory. And night keeps its appointment, accompanied by that extremely clear darkness.
Then a voice, exiled by the sunlight, returns to take its revenge, cornering me inside my own head. The images gather around him, staring at me intently. They go away only when I keep my eyes open and let the light in my room stay on. But sleep betrays me and takes over slowly pulling my eyelids over my eyes. It is a vicious circle. Fear slowly creeps under my skin, tingling me now and then with my worst nightmares. I have to stay awake, all through the night, till I am convinced that the light creeping through the window is actually daylight and not my guilt shining torchlight on me. One might wonder where guilt fits in. Guilt is a bonus, like a bouncer from Brett Lee. Negotiating the residual images from long forgotten horror movies is not enough. What if the person, now dead, from whose motorcycle I stole petrol woke up to demand compensation in any form from me? And fear somehow becomes clearer in the night taking shapes and shifting through them constantly. The shape of the girl in Exorcist, the probably dead beggar who might have lived for one more day had I given her some money and many more.
I have tried to fight this creepy feeling only lose every time miserably, implying more sleepless nights.
I haven't been trained in the art of war against fear and the repercussions are countless.
The other day when a mob in Bangalore threw stones at shops in order to make the Bandh successful, I was there and afraid. The fake calmness in my voice asking my friend to ride out of that place could not fool me. And it does not fool me when I call upon its services while talking to my superiors, at a job interview or just plain old speaking in public. Every time a feeling of having done something wrong creeps up, a fear that "they" will somehow find out what’s inside my head. They never go and probably will never go.
Right now the Karnataka State Electricity Board (KSEB) is my only friend and hence I have promised myself that I will pay the bills religiously, on time. As for my fear of hurting someone, making a blunder at work, not carrying the correct ticket on a train, letting the tongue slip too far, being fleeced by the auto rickshaw man etc., I am not too sure how to deal with them. At this point in time I remain afraid... of everything.