The Frame

The woman on the Bench

2011-10-09T23:47:00.001+05:30

A dull afternoon maligned with heavy rains during the infant stages of monsoon loomed over Manish’s overpriced rented apartment. Out of the jug, he drank some water boiled in jeera and cooled over time. He picked up a newspaper, an avid reader that he was, to see what was plaguing the country as of the day. Bored of the political scams and the celebrity cat fights, he dropped the paper onto the side stand. “I need some fresh air” he tells himself. Taking the umbrella hanging on his door latch, he exits home in search of life. As he reached the exit of his building, Manish opens his umbrella and steps out into the drizzle. Cold humidity surrounded him. “Why is the world sad?” he asks, partly to the heavy air. He walks on the kaccha road that was laid out connecting his apartment to the main road, a walk spanning two kilometers. On the way, he waved to the shopkeeper who sold him his groceries, Mishraji as he called him.

The squelching turf and mild breeze laden with the smell of moist earth slowly brought back nostalgic memories of his childhood. He would often be scolded by his mother for dirtying himself while playing in the rain. Oh those days! He hated the rain now. The perverse pellets of water originating from the dark overwhelming shades of a once white cloud blocking the brilliant surya prakash that streamed through his windows inculcated a feeling of loss and depravity. “I think it happens to a lot of people. Part of growing up” he thought. But today, he felt different. He wanted the shadowy surrounding to prevail and preferred if the sun God was not allowed to pass his ray of happiness to the world he lived in. His mobile phone beeped twice signaling a sms alert. Slowing down, he removed the phone out of his right jeans pocket and looked at the screen. “1 Text message - Manya” it read. Manish hesitated before reading the message. He hated messages from his sister. He hated messages from almost everyone, which was not too many. It more or less involved him having to get out of his comfort zone, which was in fact very small. “Bhaiya,…a buk dat u ordrd jst arrvid…wil u b collecting it 2day???” Not very keen on meeting anyone, Manish replied back “Not today…I’ll collect it this weekend when I come over. tc”. He tucked the phone back into his pocket and continued walking. A disproportionately tall man smiled at him; Shastriji, his landlord, went past him in his Alto. Manish smiled back. Not wanting to walk all the way to the main road, he took a diversion to a children’s park he had wanted to visit since he moved in to his current home. “I think I’ll settle on a bench and watch the kids play.”

At twenty seven years of age, he felt old inside. Manish sported a beard and pair of dark rectangular glasses. Signs of his family heirloom, the male pattern baldness, already prominent, only aided his thought. “Beta, its time you found yourself a ladki” his mother would often nag him “I can’t rest until you have settled down”. He would laugh off the suggestion like the thought of India winning a football world cup. “Not any time soon, Amma” he would say. He reached the entrance to the children’s park, an arch which said “Sri Chandrakanth Singh Childrens Park”. “Childrens” he smiled at the apparent mistake in the naming and entered the park. A vast space of green grass with park benches, merry-go-rounds, slides and few other children’s amusement equipments lay out sparsely. He walked to a bench, the ground damp after the rain which currently seemed to have stopped, littered with rain drops and a few twigs and leaves that seemed to have fallen off the tree standing next to it. With his closed umbrella, he thwarted off the twigs and leaves and sat on the bench, inverting the umbrella at the foot of the bench to drain off the water. A draft of wind blew some drops from the nearby flora to his face. Wiping, his face he looked around. There weren’t many people around. He saw a tapri and decided to have some hot chai. “Nothing better than steaming tea and hot samosas in the rain” he thought, a combination he had discovered during his college. He walked over to the small shop where the man was boiling tea in a kettle. Nearby, he saw a young girl place a flower on a bench and walk back to her parents waiting for her at the exit of the park. There was a note stuck to the bench. Manish walked over and read it. “In the loving memory of Mrs Savitri Sharma who always sat on this bench everyday at 7:00 pm” it read. Intrigued at the note, he walked over to the shop and asked the man about it in addition to ordering a glass of tea and a plate of hot samosas.

“Arrey Savitriji” he exclaimed “her story is quite sad.”

“Is it?” Manish wondered.

“Would you like me to tell it to you” the middle aged shopkeeper asked Manish with a smile.

“Yes of course. I would love to listen to it” he replied.

“Just give me a moment” he said pouring him the tea and going over for the samosas”I will just put the next batch of samosas to fry and be there with you.”

“Sure sure.”

He carefully immersed a plateful of the to-be-fried samosas into the boiling oil and walked towards Manish.

“Sandhya” he called out “I am talking to this gentleman here. Look after the samosas and tea.”

“Haanji” came the reply from a girl inside the shop.

“Don’t let them get burnt beti”

A girl who appeared to be around 14 years of age appeared at the door and said “I am not five, bapu.”

“Nevertheless. It doesn’t hurt to be cautious dear.”

The girl turned around and walked back in, apparently displeased.

“Kids growing up hate it when they are told to do something” the man smiled and took a seat next to me on the nearby bench.

“Early rains this time huh?” the shopkeeper spoke looking up at the dark clouds in the sky.

“My name is Ravi” he introduced himself. “My father used to own this stall. That was until he passed on.”

“I am Manish. Oh so he was Mohan, I assume” Manish said reading the name of the shop “Mohan Tea and Snakes Corner.”

“Yes. And don’t correct me on the spelling of snacks. Many people have already done that in the past” he laughed “Every morning my father would look at the board and shake his head at his ignorance. I didn’t want to change it. It keeps me closer to him. It feels like something he left over for me, you know. Oh and he was a friend of Savitriji.”

“Really?”

“Yes she would have tea from our shop every day. She used to tell us that it was the best tea, even better than the 5 star hotel ones. And while returning the glass, the two would have a conversation that ended up with my father walking her to the exit.”

“’Poor lady’ my father would often say.”

Manish smiled “And why is that?”

“Well, you see, Savitriji was brought up in a middle class family. Middle class families in those days were quite rare. At a young age, she discovered her talent in painting. The little girl would use the extracts from leaves and flowers to use as paint and work on left over pieces of newspapers.”

“Wow. That is some determination. I am guessing water colors in those days weren’t exactly cheap”

“That is right. They weren’t cheap. Savitriji was a left hander, something that wasn’t welcome in those days. During her initial schooling days, she was forced to use her right hand by her parents. She told me that the society would consider her as a Devil’s child if they found out about her ‘defect’. By the age of 12, she was an ambidextrous person, and quite good at it too according to her. As it was in those days, little Savitri was married off at a young age, 14 years in her case, to a 26 year old merchant who in fact was a family friend. She moved out of her village into the city. Household chores and the arrival of two daughters halted the self pursued talent of painting. Her husband would often jokingly call her Picasso. He wasn’t against her painting during the spare time, but was quite concerned about the lack of attention their daughters might be faced with and talked to Savitri about it who promptly put down her paint and brush for the sake of the two girls. As time moved on, so did their lives. The girls were married off and had children and Savitriji and her husband were alone again except for their rare and random visits. The thought of the paintbrush came back to her mind. Call it ill fate; her husband fell terminally ill soon after. She spent almost all her time tending after her husband’s needs and the distribution of the wealth via a will. She inherited their home and a fair share of money to keep her alive till the end of her days. Sharmaji passed away during the subsequent monsoons. I remember that clearly because I was part of the youth who carried his body for cremation and the adamant rain wet the logs that were set aside for the very purpose. I remember looking at Savitriji who had resigned from sobs to blankly staring at her husband’s body disappearing under the logs and later being consumed by the flames.”

“It must have been agonizing for her to watch her husband’s body being toyed by the rain” Manish empathized.

“Oh I could barely look the woman in the eye. It was heartache to do so. She resigned to herself, barely even talking to the neighbors and started painting. Her paintings were frequently incomplete as the thought of the subject would evade her soon after she had begun. As years went by, she became a great-grandmother, the news she got after two years of conception. Surprisingly, she wasn’t bothered. She would often caress he little ones when they were brought home but her mind would be far off in the world of surreal paintings and colors on the canvas. This was soon noticed by her children who feared for her sanity. One day, her eldest daughter Padma visited her along with her husband Krishna to take her to their home. Though initially hesitant to leave the house she spent almost her entire life, their persuasions got the better of her and she moved in with them. By the way, the little girl who placed the flowers on the bench was her great-grand daughter. She is five years old. Savitriji would talk at great lengths about her whenever she could. She was, according to her, the most beautiful thing alive that she had ever seen.”

“Children, they always are. It’s the world around that turns them ugly as they grow”

“I agree with you Manishji. Those are the exact words that my father used to tell me. You should have met him. He loved conversations. He would often sit among a group of people and discuss the world. The Cuban revolution, the disintegration of the USSR and the atrocities of America were some of the well discussed topics that were discussed upon while sitting next to a radio spilling out the daily news. He was a staunch communist and a blind follower of Karl Marx. Always keen on philosophies and open to various thoughts. The only thing that lacked in him was literacy; though it wasn’t really evident unless he was asked to read the newspapers.” Ravi laughed “He would then make some excuse about his failing eyesight to avoid embarrassment.”

Manish laughed along “A very interesting character, your father, I must say.”

“Yes he was indeed. Anyways, back to the story. The change in air did help her out. In the first month she seemed twenty years younger while playing with her great-grand daughter. But there are certain things that you cannot control.” Ravi shook his head and continued”her health started deteriorating and her memory began to dwindle. Long hours she would spend staring at the canvas as though trying to remember a distant memory in order to portray it. Slowly, irritation kicked in and she was often found yelling at the blank canvas. When asked for the reason, she would deny on remembering one. Doctors said that the old age had started manifesting itself on her and that nothing could be done as such except drugging her to keep her docile. It was then that she was brought to this park to watch some movement and life. The laughter and animated actions of children jolted her to sanity. She developed a certain interest in numbers around that time. She would come here at 5:00 pm which was the peak hour and start counting the number of children and name them as per her wishes. It was a fun game to her ageing mind, a game she played vehemently. As the children left, the trees were named. It was a fun game for her.”

“One day, her children removed any traces of painting from the house in order to sever her from her violent thoughts. Savitriji discovered this and started throwing tantrums all around the house. Krishna was horrified with her atrocities and threatened to hurt her if she hadn’t calmed down. Padma went over to her bed at night and told her that a man selling paints and canvases would visit the park everyday to sell his wares and that he would appear during the waning hours with his children so that they would get the chance to use the playground without much interference. Savitriji shifted her schedule from 5:00 pm to the later hours of 7:00 pm waiting for the man. She spent six months waiting for a man to sell his canvas”

“That is a sad story. So she passed away waiting for the stationary, then?” Manish asked.

“No. My father pitied the poor soul and saved a good deal of money and hired a man to sell a canvas and some colors around 7:00 pm at the park. Canvases are expensive. It took a lot of time to save enough money from this income” he said pointing at the shop “The man was told to tell her that he had been waiting for long to give away his merchandise to someone and was glad that he had met her. The happiness on her face was inexplicable. She looked like a child who had just received the first present of her life. She went around displaying it to anyone she met. She came over to our shop three times. The next day Savitriji did not come to the park. Though we missed her talks, we were happy for her. Then one day, we met Krishna and we asked him about her well being. It was from him that we learnt that she had passed away in her room the day she received the canvas. My father was disappointed. Krishna told us that there was one painting on the canvas she had painted before she went to bed that night. It was a single glass of steaming tea. Stunned and confused, we offered our condolences to him who accepted them gracefully. That was the end of our Savitriji.” Ravi stared at the ground.

The two were silent for a moment.

“Well the samosas are ready. You seemed to like them. Would you like to have some more?” Ravi enquired.

“No thanks. They were great though. If you don’t mind, could I have a glass of tea please?”

“Sure” Ravi said and hurried towards the shop. He poured the tea in a glass tumbler and brought it back to Manish who paid for the snacks.

He walked over to the bench with the note and sat on it next to the flowers sipping the steaming hot chai. It had started to drizzle. Manish looked up at the clouds and checked his watch.

7:00pm.

He looked straight ahead at the entry gate. A mild hope in him began to grow. A want, a need to see someone.

Two children entered the park and ran towards the slides, pulling each other on their way. A man carrying a red cloth bag followed them who yelled something at the two. He settled his bag under a tree in a dry space and unpacked the contents. H extracted an object that looked like a canvas with something drawn. As Manish walked past the man, he took a look at the painting on the canvas. The remains of the painting in his retina called on to a thought that he had never experienced before. An expression of shock appeared on Manish’s face. All the paintings on the canvases were the same. They were all paintings of a cup of steaming hot tea. Horrified, Manish’s mind came to a standstill. He walked out of the park briskly, splashing water and hurried back home with his heart racing and his body shivering. A car narrowly managed to avoid hitting him.

“I told you it will be worthwhile sticking a note like that on the bench.” Ravi smiled at Sandhya “these people are so gullible.”

The Ailment

2011-10-09T22:45:00.002+05:30

I knew the Sun existed. It had been shining down on me from over a hundred million kilometres. I hated the night. A sense of claustrophobia would surround my senses. I knew I existed. I existed as the Sun did. But deep inside, I feared for the sunset. I feared for the rise of the Moon. I knew there was a Moon within me. I wouldn’t call it a multiple personality disorder nor would I call it schizophrenia. Regardless of the labels that have been surrounding my ailment as some would call it, I still believed that I had a fairly good idea of my condition. Even still, I knew that it was just a matter of time before the labels were tagged on me. Every time I would cut myself or would bleed profusely, a sense of calmness would alight upon me. I was often thankful for being socially inept as I didn’t really dig the fussing my amigos would make over my condition. I fostered great love for the small blade that I would often rip my skin open with. It was like smoking. The urge was too strong to resist. The searing pain sent by the sensory nerves to my brain when the skin was sliced open and the oozing sticky, warm blood dripping on the floor gave me a high like none other. Disturbing? I think so too. It was until I realized that it captivated me, this condition. It was interesting to say the least. I often wondered how it was even possible for people to turn haemophobic. I loved the sight and feel of blood. I was haemophilic. But it was only my blood. Any other person’s or animal’s blood wouldn’t attract me as much as mine does. The fluid that carries around life in my body, the substance of life; life itself was flowing dissolved in the red liquid like the invisible presence of gravity. The act of trying to survive as the very life force gushed out of my system was a challenging high, much unlike anything experienced before.

But why am I writing this? Why am I bothering to write this whole boring ordeal, this boring piece of nonsensical material unreadable to a dynamic mind? I do not have the answer. I just wanted to scream it out loud to no one. No one so that no one would bother me or themselves about this ailment that which is not unique but is quite disturbing.

I finally hate soft drinks. It's simply sugar water!

It doesn’t make sense to me either.

Thoughts yonder

2010-12-17T23:24:00.000+05:30

And then it rained. It rained heavily all through the night and all the way till the next morning. It rained. It rained hard. The storm was unbearable. It hit hard. It uprooted everything in its path. It exploited the weakness of every element in its way. It tossed the weak and tested the strong. The harsh reality behind the invincible truth of its surmounting strength came into view. Nobody was spared. The time seemed to never end. The caves trickled under its massive force. Then the lighting streaked across the dark sky. It tore the dark paper in one swift motion of awe. Drops pelletted towards the moist earth. It was fate. With the mounting force upon the dispersed bodies, there was nought but hope in them as the weak were thrown across by the storm.

And then it rained. It rained heavily all through the night and all the way till the next morning. It rained. It rained hard. The cold was enveloping like the invisible death surrounding. The abstract nature of the environment sent chills. It was cold. Goosebumps galored. Heart beat dropped. Breathing got misty. Fear covered the eternity as the hope of fire shimmered into its slow death. The sight was painful. It hurt. The salt over the wound. Darkness jeered at the forlorn. There was no escape but to let it pass. Victory was distant. The hope was on self now as it slowly started to drain. Shivers. Uncontrollable shivers. Prayers. Prayers for victory to arrive. Futile prayers. The subconscious pitied. The cold bit to death. Who would stand it? Don't know. But then. Who knows?

And then it rained. It rained heavily all through the night and all the way till the next morning. It rained. It rained hard. All was lost. Everything gone. Search was on. But the object was unknown. What was lost? Who was lost? Was it I? Was it you? Was it this life? Was it humanity? Was it thought? Was it ideals? Was it principles? Was it existence? But then does I exist? Does you exist? Does life exist? Does humanity exist? Does thought exist? Does ideals exist? Does principles exist? Does existence exist? Then what is the search? Who is the search for? Who searches? What searches? Does anything exist? Does the cold exist? Does the thunder exist? Does the lightning exist? Does the rain exist? Then whom to fear? Then what to fear? Then why to fear? Alas what is fear? Who knows fear? Who is the mother? Who is the father? Who is the god of fear? Unknown but existing. Subtle yet besieging. Tame but uncontrollable. Does fear have a morphology? Does fear have an anatomy? Does fear have psychology? So does fear exist?

Wonder. Only wonder. Simply wonder. Thoughts yonder

And then it rained...

Fact or Fiction?

2010-04-05T00:11:00.002+05:30

Meditation is the art of closing oneself to the outside world and opening the self on the inside. An art designed by sages so ancient that traces of none have been left behind, save this art. I have read somewhere that meditation is much more difficult than moving mountains or fighting off lions. It is performed by removing every strand of thought existing in the mind at that point of time and living in that one present moment which we do not seem to cherish now. Will it be a fact or a fiction if I told you that upon exploring the deeper consciousness of your mind, you will find potential that you once thought was so impossible?

Evolution through the process of survival of the fittest has resulted in Man - the pinnacle of this newly coined phenomenon. But the concern is that, the momentum resulting from the evolutionary process has taken its toll on nature. Man right now is unseeingly a part of this momentum. The mechanism of man's survival should not be the survival of the fittest. This phrase was meant only for the lower order of evolution in an attemp to reach the supreme height through sheer quality. Our development is not a result of our physical strength, but our mental ability to adapt to any situation regardless of our position. The resulting effect of this phrase on such a high potential object such as man, as pointed out above, has had disastrous effects on nature as we see now. Rather than realizing this in the cushion of a span of one million years or so of our existence, we have been content living this numb life, trampling our own people, knowingly or not. Is this because we provide more attention to our external body in the form of workouts, make ups, makeovers, massages, et cetera? Is it because we are letting the true potential of our mind, a much more powerful entity than a hydrogen bomb or any other nuclear arsenal for that matter, lay to waste? Do we wish to end our existence as result of our illusions in our own filth not realizing what heights we were capable of attaining?

In this present world of materialism, our minds have been embedded with years of prolonged rustic sedimentation which on unearthing can baffle us with a light of so much intensity that we may be awed by the sheer amount of possibilities at our disposal. Examples of possessions in religions, various informations relating to rebirth and also multiple personality disorders that at times exhibit personalities unknown in the society have been read, re-read, researched, analysed and concluded many a times with very little functional result; so has the human brain been researched, analysed and concluded many a times with relatively much less information.

The immense technology that we have at our disposal is a result of the handiwork of the human brain. why haven't we come to terms to the fact that if it can be sown in the brain, so can it be reaped there? Remote communication in the form of mobile phones, broadcasting in the form of television, healing in the form of medicine, warmth and comfort in the form of clothing and so many others. Why don't we realize that if our mind can come up with these, it can also provide us these without any raw material.

Telepathy, telekinesis, regeneration, astral projections, clairvoyance, precognition, scrying, levitation, etc are just a few psychic abilities that fiction has created for us. It is our self induced research that will let us know anything about our inner potential, assuming there is any, and then realize whether or not all these are fact or fiction.

Formatting the Society

2010-03-09T23:34:00.000+05:30

Travelling to my office situated in an IT park, I was forced into making an analogical observation, relating many of our situations, to ants. The congested traffic and the slow movements towards our destined places of work made me think of those marvelous creatures that carry weights many a times as themselves. The early morning outbreak of IT professionals on the path to work, very well resembles the line made by ants moving towards their hill. The overhead work bestowed upon us by our superiors is a perfect analogy to the hard work performed by us for the many an egg the queen ant lays, here, money.

Man, being a social animal, needs to live in a society. The society is an accumulation of combined thoughts and a form of symbiotic coexistence. Man is also a creature of habit and through the ages, this society has worked tirelessly towards stabilization. In order to govern this society, we have come up with different aspects of governance where Democracy is the most popular form. Democracy, in Abraham Lincoln's words, is "for the people, of the people and by the people". That is, the government elected will tend to the common man's need, the government is only meant for those who elect it and the government is responsible for those people who have elected it. Unfortunately, this society that we live in, has brought upon ourselves, a self imposed dictatorship. We are preys of our own congested thoughts. The fact that our lives rule as a result of certain unrelated concepts, is a hindrance to what we actually are, to what we can actually become.

Through history, we have tried and tested different methods to attain stability. But, the stability achieved may have been one of the key reasons for the word 'destiny' or 'fate' to arise. One may never realize his or her dream. The one, who accepts this unquestioningly, brings in one of the above mentioned two words. He, who doesn't, fights against it. A career in a field of interest is something everyone dreams of. But the one entity called money shatters all these dreams. Knowledge is lost. Education is looked upon only for the sake of the paper devil, money. A different form of interest with respect to the rest of the group is often treated with ambiguous reactions. Change is like a form of allergy to this society, something that takes a long time to set it. Change requires the stable society to loosen up a bit. Change requires resource allocation in a field unknown. All this affects a man's evolving mind. Society constricts free flowing thoughts. The organization, that we have so painstakingly developed, has turned into our enemy. We have turned into our own worst enemies.

Transcending the belief that unity is strength, we tend to ignore the fact that what we have is a false unity, a form of pseudo-amigo relationship. We fight among ourselves for reasons, most of which, are beliefs. Money has made man from a civilized creature to an animal, a move contradicting the evolutionary process. Why should we simply fight a losing battle against nature? A need for social justice has long come and unless we find the answers to where we should stand as the wisest of all, we are sure to end up in the dumps. The simplest answer to all our problems is abolishment of currency in the form of money. "What will the currency be then?" or "Who will work without money?" You may ask. The answer to this is knowledge.

Intelligence is evolved in us because of our natural instinct for the search of answers, a quest for knowledge. These natural instincts are being curbed as a result of our desperate attempts to become monetarily rich. The paper power that we assign to ourselves, the power which every man is stung by in his lifetime, this decaying matter of falsehood is right now the governing force in our lives. One may say "Interests or desires will not provide you with food or shelter. Nor will it give you the lifestyle you require. But money will." I agree to that if and only if we don't have a change in perception. The answer to every problem is simple, but if we are unable to find a solution for something, all we require is a change in perception. Our needs are what drives us. A laborer may be the lowest paid worker in a hierarchy of a construction company, where the truth is that this man, whose sweat and blood was responsible for the massive institution, is now forgotten and is provided with the most depressed level of benefits. If knowledge becomes the currency, the thirst for knowledge will result in hard work. A farmer will be the richest due to the fact that every man will come to him and trade knowledge for crops. Isn't that what he deserves if he is responsible for every man's survival? Everyman will work for survival. Every man will be rich on the amount of knowledge he possesses. Inventions will have a startling increase, discoveries will be numerous and since knowledge is an eternal entity, its value will only increase as years go by, unlike its present counterpart whose value depends on the natural resources available.

"Then what of sports and entertainment?" You may ask. Knowledge doesn't mean bookish data. Every moment, man is absorbing knowledge from his surroundings. Sports and entertainment also provide us with knowledge. Our thoughts have to be broadened. Caste system was thought to be a major part of the society, one which couldn't be abolished. It was just a change in perception that saved thousands of lives. This country constituting 1/6th of the world's population consists of vast human potential. We need to realize the potential of many a persons. Ask yourselves, deep within you whether or not you have satisfied every dream you had. If not, ask the reason. If, money comes up in any of the levels of thought or even as a part of the answer, you know whom to blame. Knowledge will provide wisdom that will in fact one day make us realize that it is not the invisible supernatural or the ever available land that we should prioritize as numero uno, but ourselves, our human race, our brothers.

We have negative feelings towards each other. Why not be jealous of a lion for its strength? Why not feel hatred for a dog because of its keen sense of smell or an eagle for its eyesight? Why not compete against a superpower called God in order to attain perfection? Why compete against ourselves who are equal in every aspect? What we require is a formatting of our society, just like the formatting of a computer. Sooner or later money will become redundant and the later generations will laugh at our ignorant ways of dealing with our daily life. So why make a fool of ourselves in front of our progenies? Let us be those who are responsible for this change. Let us be the ones revolutionizing society and striving towards a peaceful harbor of unity.

We are the creators of our destiny. As of now, it is our forefathers responsible for it and it is up to us to realize this and take it within our hands.

I

2010-03-04T22:11:00.001+05:30

I? Yes I. This is not about the "I" which is the ninth letter of the English alphabetical order. This is not the "I" which represents me. This is about the "I" which is now so responsible for the now so pathetic state of man. This is about the "I" which I consider is the most dangerous alphabet in English. This is about the entire enterprise known as "I" which has now resulted in the downfall of human brotherhood. Yes, this "I" is about ego, man's most betraying sense of thought.

The question starts with
Q: Who am I?.
A: I am a man.
Q: So, what is a man?.
A: A man is an animal who is intelligent and sophisticated, way more than any other animal.
Q: What is the proof of that?".
A: Don't you see the advances we have made on this planet? Has any animal come even close to it?
Q: Are you proud of it?
A: Of course. Why won't we be? We have achieved everything we wanted.
Q: How did you achieve everything?
A: By being intelligent and competitive.
Q: So you say that you competed against other animals?
A: Of course not. We competed against ourselves.
Q: Why yourselves? Aren't you united? Is it that simple human wants, made you fight against each other?
A: That is called survival.
Q: You don't survive by killing each other. You survive by living together. Isn't that what the civilized do?
A: This is man's way of survival.
Q: Then, is man a monster who selfishly and for his materialistic needs kills his fellow brethren?
A: If you think that way, then we are.

From the youngest child to the oldest human ever lived, man has experienced a feel of envy, jealousy and the need to prove to his fellow man that he is compatible, intelligent and strong. The simple need of being accepted by people around him often leads to the contrary. For years, we have lived in our own disgusting mental dirt called ego. Ego causes rivalry. It causes war between nations, kingdoms, friends and even siblings. Eons of knowledge and education has done nothing to prove otherwise.Every war in history has been the cause of the leader's ego; be it military or religion. Military, in order to prove that he is the greatest ruler and that his ego will not accept orders or advices from the other. Religious, in order to state that his mind is not feeble enough to have faith in the supernatural that isn't the most powerful. This prosthetic or pseudo strength that one attains through this feeble sense, though self confidence and trampling of the lesser under his foot is a common occurrence, is often considered a necessary evil. But how many realize its evil component?

So does that mean one should not believe in himself? Does that mean the self should bow down in front of the other? There is a thin line between self esteem and ego .The former is a way of saying "I exist and I prove to thee that I am not going to be taken for granted" while the latter says "You are not worth existence and I will prove to thee that you will be taken for granted". Let me ask you. Being the most advance race in the world, why do we plague ourselves with such dire emotions? Why is it not possible to co-exist, accepting every man's idealistic thought and accept it for his worth?

Truth is that, being the most advanced of other races, we tend to believe we are more advanced than ourselves, more advanced than those of our time. The wholehearted concept of peace and brotherhood is a false testimony masking the dark face of self, now embedded deep into the subconscious intellect of every human being that has scarred this planet off its varied and rich beauty.

Think of any ill situation except, of course, natural ones. Every cause has this evil truth marked in it.It is sad but true, that any sort of development man has to make in the progressive fashion, be it for himself or the world around him, has to begin from within, from his mind, from his ego.

INSIGHT
Ill incarnation of the illegitimate idea imbibed into inner identity is importantly and insistently invoked inside the iniquitous injustice involving insufficient intelligence indulging I.

Whole lot of crap a.k.a Gyaan-2

2010-02-28T21:45:00.000+05:30

The profound disgust relied on man's extraordinary balance with nature is an attribute violating the most virtuous sanctity of his elopement with an ardent intrusion into the path in order for the search of truth as a whole.
Belittling the one who marred you ain't going to resemble the hidden truth of the analogical pathway dug into your subconscious mind in order to penetrate the ferocity of life.
Tolerance of the mind is imbibed in the state of unconsciousness wherein absolutely nothing perpetuates the hidden truth from the foliage of the universe, thereby committing to self a treachery yet so unknown as the ancient truth.
Path of dust and path of bricks have only one difference - the former is a stream of life dubbed into a vast container of freedom whereas the latter induced into a state of slavery, is bound to stay solid despite its reluctance to everything oh so unknown.
Detained through a row of vociferous calls, I bring this upon thee that he who knows what he wants knows nothing as compared to the he who knows not, what he wants not.
Thrusting through the infinity of time and space, a single string of thought misplaced may change the universe as with respect to time wherein a single second similar to the flutter of a butterfly may erode the most advanced foundation of the world if unknowingly chosen or selected by a primordial article as ignorant as man.
The ubiquitous truth of reality is the fact that truth is a variable of an equation with roots buried deep in the ember of the molten core of the mind yet so precariously mislead into the infant realms of human fancy.
Journey of life is a step towards immortality where the antics of the moral police lay down upon you the blocks of righteousness that you be made to follow until death.
Pathetic, aye, pathetic is man who without once realizing the meaning of love so divinely believes in its simplicity and yet kills over its complexity.
Desperate attempts to unlock the scrutinizing abundance of awe is a desperate attempt in itself to redeem the unwanted and selfish motto now left so unfulfilled within thou.
Wise do seldom make mistakes, but redemption is attained by those regardless of the path taken, thus provoking the most materialistic approach onto man in order to attain eternal peace.
Glory be to thee who may have taken care of truth as a child little bird and the detesting lie as an egg now so forlorn as unborn.
The perilous voyage of insanity has its roots in the womb of the mother of all plagues as in the Pandora’s Box now so wide open, delegated by the subtle error of mankind, in his ignorance, as a whole.
The subterfuge counteracting the vivid sound of the breath that is being anticipated in the minds of many are as a result of the disproportionate connections embedded with all.
Heed the call of the mighty wind that one day may sweep you unknowingly from the whereabouts of your soul now so charred in blight.

Quotes a.k.a Gyaan

2010-02-28T21:16:00.000+05:30

Fear limits your potential, pain tests it.
I am no teacher, but a mere student of nature.
Time is your greatest enemy, yet your closest friend.
Knowledge is the light of the world which money tries to eclipse.
Man is wise, but men are foolish.
Self realization is the stepping stone to wisdom.
Fate is the answer of those who have given up.
Accept nothing without questioning its very essence.
Wisdom is the rightful charity to the humble.
Unity is a concept, unification a phenomenon and one is existence.
He who tries to change the world achieves nothing; he who changes his perception, changes the world.
A nation’s most formidable asset is its mind.
Respect and equality are the signs of maturity.
A great psychologist is one who hates everyone and yet loves everyone at the same time.
Ideas cause debates, faith causes war.
Intelligence is not the solution but a mere channel.
I do not ask of you to not speak a lie, I only ask of you to not withhold the truth.
Society is a result of change, epics are a result of the society and change is the inevitable truth.
Ignorance is bliss; the ignorant is doomed.
To change the future you must loosen up the present and time will mould the rest.

The HuMind

2010-02-26T23:23:00.001+05:30

Why do I bother writing about a topic which has been a cliché for ever so long? I do not know. Probably the one fact that it is the one thing that has been researched on a lot but relatively understood, I would say, the least. Is mind part of the brain or the heart? They say "Let your mind decide what path you take." So does this by any account mean that this object is a part of the brain as science would call it or is it your heart that through a set of sympathetic steps lets you walk a path of softer decision? A combination of neurons or a combination of muscles? If you ask me, I would say that it is neither, but just a form of energy that flows in an unconcealed network, throughout the body. Anyways, I leave that to the experts. My intention here is only to portray what I feel a human mind is, when in it's process of execution.

A complex set of algorithms and formulae like a a computer? Maybe or maybe not. Complexity is proportional to maintenance. But regardless of such a theory, the human mind is something responsible for maintenance of a person, household, a city, country and even the Planet. A thought, is more of an extra-scientific phenomenon; in the sense, something that is, as of now, above the realm of science but yet not touching the supernatural. This phenomenon is a combination of intricate steps obtained through constant exposure to the aura of experience, bound by constant creativity, and calculated assessment of the process of prediction which is in fact taking place due to the above reasons. The loop continues as a feedback system wherein a situation is passed through a number of steps of analysis, planning and design; the execution of which would be carried forward if and only if the feedback system passes it through an almost perfect vessel of risk calculations and a bottle neck containing a sieve to filter off the contravening data in order to emerge with the most perfect solution for a certain situation pertaining to the following factors; namely the person's mindset(mood) which includes any physical or meta physical cause, the way his thought has been progressing through the 'x' years he has lived and through the constant process of learning which he/she would use for reference at every step of the formation.

The answer obtained is perfect with respect to the person thinking, i.e the one in question. But the human mind is made up of so many permutations and combinations that the most perfect idea which may have given birth in one mind maybe shunned by another. Psychology, if successful in untwirling this web of complexity, would emerge as the greatest science ever, as it would beat by a million miles, the complexity that has been thought of by our theoretical physicists about the universe. This abundance of knowledge which will be key in the survival of the human race could result in many things deemed impossible. The total control of the mind can result in a process of telekinesis, telepathy, regeneration or maybe, it may even lead to an ever searched answer for immortality. But who controls this ultra-tech machine? Trust me its not any one of us. Had it been us, unwanted thoughts, awesome ideas and magnificent concepts wouldn't arise. I believe a random thought generator exists, something that generates small sparks of thoughts which act as inputs to this feedback system. The possibility of the above mentioned superhuman abilities arise based on the amount of control man has over this random thought generator.

Barring the fact that years of dedicated work and psychotherapy in more than one way has had a profound effect on the amount of control human beings have on this random thought generator, the extraordinary power of the human mind unleashing is just like any other dangerous component. say Uranium - power or bomb. If man develops himself in a way as to control it, every answer that he seeks, will manifest in front of him, be it either for the common good, in this case absolute, or for the worst, obviously absolute.

A provocative thought

2010-01-17T19:36:00.002+05:30

Death has always been an alluring phenomenon for me. Do I fear death? Is it fear? Is it anxiety? Is it curiosity? Or to an extent, does it instill in me a tad of excitement? It is fascinating, enticing and equally appalling at the same time. Death brings out the thinker in me, the philosopher and at times, the broad minded dreamer. It is a difficult endeavor, if I may call it an endeavor, to brace myself for such an event. I think, I wonder, I fantasize about how it would be after I depart. A collection of memories, fantasies, hopes, achievements, faith, belief, everything comes to a standstill from that one moment. The orphaned body, marred by the events during its lifetime, undergoing complex chemical reactions, all the way from its formation to its final decay, to its disintegration into the deep hollows of earth where it may never form again just like a child entering the labyrinth, never to see the sun again. I wonder, maybe due to my lack of faith, about the turn of events, had there been a soul in me, in you or in everyone else for that matter that would carry our dreams and hopes into another entity in order to realize it. Is this wondering or is it a small part of me hoping, unable to withstand the inevitability of leaving everyone and everything that I have ever loved or hated? I may evade responsibilities, commitments, meals at times, outings with my friends, but can I, and will I ever be able to evade this majestic phenomenon? This life has a meaning if the people in whom I find meaning, find a meaning in mine. If my soul represents my hopes and dreams and if I wish for it to be passed on, I believe I literally should do it. This thought provokes me into doing something which my world and the world outside it, my generation and the generations after it may remember as my hopes and my dreams, as my soul.

My Last

2010-01-03T15:04:00.002+05:30

Lost in the abyss of gloom

as pain washes my happiness

I long for the warm bright light

to face my delirious fight.

Thrown away an outcast

my paranoia has engulfed me

I sing to thee a hymn of glory

to help me bear this agony.

Those passion and hope

I throw away them all

My honor and prosperity

I yearn for them many more.

Helpless, I become an onlooker

of my sufferings in this world

Who am I to be considered

as fate has its arms around me curled?

Tumbling down the valley of despair

my mind reels back

to the thoughts of my past

What have I done to deserve this last?

I feel fear, I am anxious

my regrets haunt me

falling down the tavern of life

I long to wash away my memory.

The Clay Rose

2009-12-22T22:04:00.004+05:30

Once upon a time in the village of Long Valley, there lived a family of magicians. Aaron Gladbeard, a renowned wizard and one of the councilors of the village, was the head of the family. His wife, Sheba the enchantress was the mother of their three children. The eldest of them, Arthon who was sixteen was followed by his brother Gezeb, fourteen, and finally came the eight year old Shahana, their little sister. The village respected the family and so was it vice versa.

Suddenly, a plague struck the village like a bolt from the blue. Animals died, people starved, the crops wilted and droughts occurred. Nobody knew who or what was responsible for this and as frustrations grew, so did the desperation for answers. In the end, the blame fell on the Gladbeards, and they were blamed for the ill omen. Aaron was bludgeoned and Sheba was burnt at stake. Arthon who escaped the mass murder was forced to see his younger brother and baby sister buried alive. The youth devastated by the scene, fled the village. He ran into the forest, feeling the blood of his father smeared on his face, listening to the sound of his mother screech at the stake, smelling her partially burnt flesh fresh in his nostrils, seeing his younger siblings crying for mercy and tasting his helplessness and fear in the air around him. His sadness and anger consumed him. He started living a recluse, without letting anyone know about his whereabouts. The hot blood in him infused with hatred and animosity drove him to lead an uncivilized life, a life he lived only to engineer the destruction of Long Valley, the village that had destroyed him. He survived on wild animals and herbs. He conjured spells and incantations through sweat and blood. Finally, on a new moon night, twenty years later, he cursed the village. He cursed it with all the pain he had endured. He cried for the village as it burnt to the ground. At last, the disgusting village was nothing more than rubbles and debris. Meat cloaks were lying on the ground with smokes and fumes flowing out of them. Arthon cried all through the night, all the way into the morning till he could cry no more. He screamed, till his voice went hoarse, to the heavens. He threw the ashes in the air pleading the heavens to send him back his family.

Things had gone according to plan till he met Anaya the next morning. Anaya, he remembered was the one girl whom he had loved, and through these years she had remained the same beautiful rose that he had always cradled close to his heart.

Seeing another human being in front of him after such a trauma made him stagger. He thought it might be a mere mirage, a hallucination of what he may have wanted to see. Reality hit him. She had not died in the massacre. He felt lost. He gathered up his remaining strength and approached her.

“Who? When?” he stammered

“How? Why?” he screamed and fainted.

The next morning, Arthon found himself lying in the arms of Anaya. He jumped up terrified. He could not hold himself up any longer and fell back into her arms. Anaya nursed him to health in a week’s time. Arthon felt obliged to this woman. He was at her mercy for a week and instead of killing the man responsible for destroying her dreams, she had nurtured him back to health.

He fell in love with this rose again.

The deeds of Arthon the sorcerer were widespread in the kingdom and his head was on the hunt. Every day, Anaya’s and his lives were at stake till he finally ran away to a place where nothing could ever find him. Here, the couple loved and lived each other but did not dare to have children fearing their fate.

Years went by, their eyesight and health dwindled but the love they had for each other stood the test of time, stronger than ever. Anaya was on her death bed. Arthon squinted through his cataract to see his love with the same keenness as he did on the morning after the massacre.

His frail wrinkled hands held hers; he smiled at her and said “Let me get you a present that I had kept with me before I left the village, my love”

“Why are you showing it to my now? Why did you not do it earlier? I am dying Arthon.” Anaya asked him smiling barely able to whisper.

Arthon hobbled as fast as his bent legs would carry him to get her a clay rose. As he carried it towards her, he started recollecting the story behind the article.

It happened when he was studying in the school at Long Valley. There, during an art class, the teacher had asked the students to go out and make the first things they saw. Arthon walked out of the class to view a beautiful scene of Anaya picking up a trampled rose flower. The way her delicate hands wound around the downtrodden petals and leaf moved him and he set to the task of remaking the rose and giving it back to her, just to see the sheer happiness light up her childish face.

“I was waiting for the right moment Anaya. Here, look here it is. Surprise” he said quivering in his frail voice. “Remember the rose dear? The, the rose the stupid kids had stamped upon. The rose you picked up and had tried to heal, like you healed me? Anaya, do you remember? Long time eh? I know. Here, hold it. Let me see it. I…I felt this was the right time to say how much I've loved you all these years. Hold it, feel the flower. It’s as delicate as you are, dear, so do be careful.” He chuckled.

Anaya smiled. She smiled. And she smiled. All the way to her death, she smiled. Arthon stared at her. He too smiled. His cheeks twitched, his lips quivered, tears rolled down his face, into his beard. He leaned forward to place a kiss on her cheek. A teardrop sailed on the bridge of his nose and dropped on her left cheek. He kissed her and closed her eyes.

“She was old and weak” he said to himself “old and weak. That poor thing was in pain. It’s not a problem. My…my Anaya will live till the clay rose exists. Yes that she will, won’t she? Of course she will. I will make her live” he murmured.

The next day, he started on a new endeavor with the same rigor and passion with which he worked on to devastate the village. He was going to recreate Anaya. He was going to break every law in the nature, fight against the forces of the universe, war against the land of the dead and even if he be the only one on his side, he would still win. How long could he survive this pain of losing someone he loved? How could the Gods be so cruel to him? Who would understand his longing? Driven away by his own people, being hunted by his own countrymen, has anyone ever once sided with him? Nobody had ever been with him and now he needed nobody. All he wanted was her. Nothing in the world mattered more to him anymore. Not even his life. His obsession had reached new heights.

Years later, through sheer perseverance, he recreated the body which he had so longed to see. Every part of the body that he created, he put in everything he could into it. As the beautiful creature lay under a silken robe, he examined it closely. Yes, the integrity of the face reminded him of his mother, its innocence reminded him of Shahana and the exquisite elegance reminded him of her. He wanted to call her by her name, but his grey cells had given up. He couldn’t think of the name and he finally came upon the name. He had to breathe life into her, so he bent down to give her the kiss of life.

“Oh.” He said to himself” Silly me and my clumsy nose.” when his long nose touched her, before his lips could, for the kiss. He tried again and succeeded. He breathed into the body a new life and as this new creature woke up, he called her by its name.

“Rhea” he called out to her beautiful little eyes opened.

“Rhea” he whispered to her.”I christen you Rhea.”

As the days past, Arthon would keep watching the young woman play with the little animals and caress the flowers. “So much like Anaya” he would say to himself. One day, he talked to her about his love.

“You are old Arthon. I love you, but I do not want to stay alive when you are gone” she told him as her hand grazed his face.

Arthon would think about this day and night. How could he not have thought of this situation? He was confused. He didn’t know the solution for this problem. Would he never be able to woo her? He sat down at his worktable and started going through the textbooks on ancient magic. He lost count of the days. He wouldn’t eat or drink. Sleep rarely came to him. At last he found the spell. The spell was a forbidden one among the wizards. It had a serious side effect. The spell said “the crude juvenile thou shall become, but to eternity, remain a man”. In his haste he did not think about the repercussions, he just wanted to get back to his young days. Before chanting the incantation, he decided on bringing the clay rose to life. After a few hours, the soft red rose lay in his hands. Now, he proceeded towards the final spell of his life. On creating the recipe, Arthon chanted the spell and imagined the age that he wanted to go back to.

After an hour, Rhea entered the den after her stroll in the garden. She looked happy till she found a man lying unconscious in Arthon’s study. She sprinkled some water on him and Arthon gazed at the woman for whom he had abandoned all his magic. “Rhea” he called out to her “it’s me, Arthon.” She looked surprised and terrified. “What have you done to yourself?” she asked him “I don’t know what to say.”

“I did this for you Rhea. I did this for you.” Arthon told her.

She ran out of the cave full of tears.

“She will be fine. Now to get myself ready.” Arthon told himself and donned the best of clothes that Anaya had once stitched for him.

He went outside feeling the best he had in his life in search of Rhea with the live rose in his hands and he found her sitting beside an oak tree. He approached her slowly with the rose in his hand. As he came near he saw a shocking scene. The truth hit him hard. Rhea was in love. She was in love, not with him, but with another man whom he had never seen. He returned back home and disgusted with himself and tired after the turn of events he fell asleep. Right before he slept, he made up his mind to talk to Rhea in the morning.

Arthon woke up as the first rays of sunlight entered the den. As he got up, a parchment fell from his mat. He read the content and tore it in fury and madness. She had left him. She had gone off to live with a stranger. He didn’t know who he was or where he lived. He had lost the battle against fate. Now immortal, he would wander the lands searching for her. Exasperated, he set the entire den on fire. Suddenly, he realized that he had left the rose in the den. He rushed into the den withstanding the agonizing pain caused to him by the fire only to find the red rose wilt away in the heat and fall off his table, burnt.

He picked up the rose and turned around to get out of the den but was hit by a huge woodwork that fell on him. It knocked him unconscious and his body was charred in the fire. Arthon died as he had wished for. In his unconscious state he could see only one thing, the face of Anaya. He remembered what he had forgotten. “Anaya” he said and smiled in his mind.

The Story of how God got lost in his process of creation and how his chances of coming back are bleak --- A probabilistic approach

2009-11-30T20:47:00.007+05:30

Ok. Now this thing is long. Very long.

Warning: Highly atheistic content.

Non-Technical Aspect

In the beginning, Father Time and Mother Nature bore two children. They named them God and Devil. The parents were very happy with the two bonny babies. The twins grew up with the Universe as their playground. However, they weren't spoilt, but brilliant and wonderful kids. Their cousins, the Angels and Demons, were very fond of them as well. Mama and Papa wanted the kids to stand on their own feet and hence gave them puzzles and work in the Universe which the boys did with great vigour. They specialized in the creation of life, a field their parents were very proud of.

One day, Devil asked his brother "Bro, what say, we do something killer huh"?

"Dude, we are supposed to be creating life here and not doing killer stuff" God replied.

"You are not getting me. You just are not getting it."Devil spoke with impatiently.

"Relax man. Of course I am not. Do you think I am able to read your mind?" God asked.

"Yes you can. But then that something we have agreed upon not doing."

"Yeah right. Now that you know it, shoot. I am working on a star here. Can't you see?" a bothered God asked his brother.

"Hey, I am working with you as well. Get over with your attitude. Alright. Here we go. What say we play a game?" Devil asked.

"A game?" God asked looking bored..

"Yes. A game."

"What about this game?" God asked inquisitive.

"What say we create life in our form, and then play the game of reviving us back."

"Reviving us?" God asked raising his left eyebrow "Dude, you planning to get us killed or something?"

"Yeah. Something like that" Devil replied.
"Do you by any chance see the word crazy or insane written on my forehead. Because I think I can see it appearing on yours" God spoke with sarcasm at his brother's proposal.

"Your sense of humor just amazes me at times dude. We are immortal remember? Only the toys that we create get killed" Devil reminded him.

"Unless Pops or Mom blow us to bits or we annihilate ourselves that is."Devil said to himself.

"So what is this game you are talking about?" a curious God asked his brother.
"Look don't you get bored watching the same things again and again. The birth, the death, the this, the that. Dude, I get really bored at times to be frank. You don't get a first person feel man." Devil confessed.

"Yeah, so do I. Once in a while though." God agreed
"Now my game is that, we" he said pointing to the two of them "we create a life form that looks just like us and we" he said pointing at each other again "we live their life."

"You mean we give birth to ourselves, mate with ourselves and kill ourselves and all?"God asked
"Yeah something like that. For the moment keep the giving birth and the mating part away. Makes me feel a little weird." Devil replied making a disgusted face.
"Dude, we are going to kill ourselves man. Thats like Mom's first rule of Don'ts. Annihilation at your own risk. No resurrection guaranteed." God said alarmed and remembering the first rules of Do's and Don'ts their mother had taught them "Listen up, we are perfect at the moment alright? I don't want to screw up my 100% perfect record."

"What a nerd I got to hang out as a brother. Dude, you listen to me. How often do you get to kill yourself and come back to life in some other part of the world?" Devil asked a little heated.

"Sounds interesting" God said, lost in thought "What are we to do with a 100% perfect record anyway?"

" My point exactly." Devil said pleased at his brother's mindset. "Now that we have come to an agreement. Lets begin the design."

"So soon? Man, you are one cunning fellow. You know that?"

"My pleasure bro"

"Yeah yeah. Lets get to work. What do we call this life form man?"

"I don't know man."

"Lets call it Man"

"Yeah I know we have to call it. What do we call it?" Devil asked agitated.

"Dude I just said it. Its Man." he retorted.

"Hey that is just outrageous. You calling that thing Man?" Devil asked while into fits of laughter. "Man! Man! Dude you are crazy man. You calling it Man"

"Dude, couldn't help it man. Oh damn. I am saying man myself." God also started laughing.

"Dude we are tripping on some Universal Dust man. Oh this is ridiculous. What about calling it Dude?" and he started laughing again.

"Dude man. This is some trippy stuff."God said.

"Alright back to business Devil" God said with a straight face.

"Fine fine. Deep breath. Deep breath. Lets go with the first name. Lets get on to project Man. Dude we need a formal name for it."

"Who? Man?" God asked

"Yeah, that will do." Devil said pleased

"What will do?" God asked confused.

"Who-Man dude. Lets it be officially called Human."

"Whatever makes you happy. All you have to remember is that we have to address ourselves by these bizzare names."

"Its a game. So don't take it seriously" Devil said getting irritated.

"So? We are involved in the damn game." an annoyed God said.

"That is fine. As long as we come out of it unscathed, its going to be awesome. We will ask those boring Angels and crazy Demons to record the entire thing and then we can have a long laugh after all the charade while watching the entire thing." Devil said imagining the whole scene.

"Awesome awesome. Lets get it started." God said excitedly. "Lets start off with the properties."

"Hmm." Devil said deep in thought. "We are making this Man thing in our form right?" God nodded affirmative.

"So lets make it the same as us, with the same properties except for a few obviously."

"Yeah. Here is an idea. First of all, we need to create a dimension of positives and negatives so that there is a reason for their existence. And FYI, I govern the positives."

"Yeah yeah. Whatever. Just let me understand the whole concept. I must be getting slow." Devil said a little confused.

"See, we need a positive dimension where the humans do something positive and the negative dimension where they do something negative. simple. And in my mind there are two words for it. Good and Evil."

"I've heard them some where. Hey those are like out names man. This is getting a bit too freaky. So is Good the negative dimension or the positive dimension?"

"The positive obviously. I govern the Good because its similar to my name and you govern the negative that is the Evil because it is similar to yours. See you go hand in hand. And plus you are the cunning one. So you can do total justice to this thing."

"Hmph. Loser taking the boring side as usual"

"Shut up. You want to take it? Take it"

"Dude, just pulling your leg man. I was made for this stuff. Look how awesomely I am going to pull it off."

"Shut up. You are just delaying it. So, I'll list the characteristics and you say a Yes or a No that is it and nothing more. Get it?"

"Fine" said Devil and they started chalking off the characteristics.

"Immortality?" asked God

"Are you kidding?"

"A yes or a no Devil"

"No"

"Regeneration?"

"Thats the same thing. Oh! My bad. No"

"Telepathy?"

"No."

"Vision"

"Hell yeah."
"Stop using your room name. Hearing?"

"Yeah dude. Don't want to spend millions of years ... Sorry."

And they went on listing them on and on till they were finally happy with the expected outcome.

"But I still don't know what we will do without telepathy man or Telekinesis. I'll have to do a lot of work man" God said feeling depressed.

"Big deal you lazy oaf. These things aren't going to last for long. Max to max, say, a few million years and then we will be back. I need a punch line or something that I say when I see their confused faces after we revive ourselves. What say 'So long suckers!' or..."

"Hey we still have to take Mom's and Dad's permission" God cut his excited brother off.

"That is the tough part. Anyways lets go search for Mom."

So the two boys went in search of Mother Nature for the nod to go ahead with the project. Searching for their mother wasn't an easy task as she would be working in one part of the Universe or the other or with some life form or helping uncle Universe with the creation of a galaxy or so.

Finally they found her working on the star the boys had left while talking about their possible adventure.

"What in the world were you idiots thinking leaving a star in the midst of its generation? Don't you know the implications of such an action?" she asked infuriated.

The boys cowered with fear and apologised.

"We ... we thought it was done Mom." Devil said."Like a couple of atoms more. That is all."

"Yeah. A couple of atoms more" God supported his brother unable to say anything else.

"Just kidding." she smiled. "I saw you guys talking something over there and so I was just doing a little bit of maintenance work on this star. A slight problem with the Hydrogen composition."

"There goes your 100% perfect record." Devil smirked at his brother."That is no way my style of work."

"Hey it was your mistake as well. I was adjusting the composition when you came up with this wierd plan"

"Its not wierd. Accept it. You liked it as well."

"What? Yeah ok. Accepted."

"So what is it that you boys have been talking about? What plan?" asked Mother Nature

"Umm Mom. Its this thing that we have come up with. A little bit of improvisation in the creation process" God started to explain.

"Wonderful. Go on. Enlighten me." Mom said.

The boys explained the entire plan and waited anxiuosly for their mother's reaction.

"You guys are going to be lost in yourself. Have you lost it?" she asked exasperated.

"Um ... Mom, isn't that what dad also does. Get lost in time?" Devil asked innocently.

"Don't you dare talk about your Dad like that. Remember Don'ts rule number two? God say it"

"Do not provoke your parents or uncle Universe into annihilating you. No ressurection guaranteed." God recited bored.

"Nerd." Devil whispered to his brother.

"He always knows how to spin the web of time to get out of the mess. What is your plan huh? Any common platform where things do get executed? If you are keen on doing it I suggest you take your cousins with you."

"Not those buggers Mom" Devil grumbled."Those guys are crazy. And at times pretty stupid."

"This is well planned out. We do have a common platform. Its called mathematics" God said coming to the rescue

"We do?" Devil asked quizzically

"Oh yeah mathem.. mathematisc.. mathemtatics. Something like that. He named it." Devil mumbled.

"Mathematics Devil." he corrected his brother and turned towards their mother "he is just getting used to the word."

And God explained the entire concept of the subject stressing on the main part of it - Probability.

"Now you are making things up" their mother told them

"I think so too" Devil whispered to himself " and to think I was the strategist and disaster management expert.

I am losing my touch. I have to search for my mojo before getting on with this plan. Else this fellow is going to take all the glory."

"The plan is that we provide a certain code into every Human by which as the generation passes, we get passed down and through the phenomenon of probability, we revive ourselves again. It will just take a few million years. I promise. Please please please?" God begged their mother after explaining it. "And we are also incorporating our cousins into our plan. They will have a vital role in deciding the course of the human growth."

"We are?" Devil spoke, alarmed.

God motioned his brother to shut up.

"So. These humans being?" their mother asked a little confused.

"Oh Mom you are a genius. These human beings as we call them ..."

"Wait a moment you just called them human beings. Are you playing around with me?" she asked

"No the thing is we wanted a good name for this creature and what you said kind of sounded good. Its called Human Being. How does it sound?"he aked excited

"Don't care. I will agree to this ridiculous thing only on one condition. I get to design your environment" their mother said sternly.

"Mom we are old enough to do it." Devil interjected."Like we got it all planned out. For example there is going to be a ..."

"Its either this or nothing. Take it or leave it Your call." she said firm as ever.

"That is fine Mom. He will sulk for a while but then its fine" God said giving his brother a stare.

"That is?" Devil said wondering to himself as to what exactly is happening to his master plan.

"Alright. I'll leave you boys to plan ahead and catch you later." she said and went away.

"That is ok Mom. He will sulk for a while but then its fine" Devil mimicked his brother."Thanks for screwing my plan up man. But I got to hand it to you. Smooth move and pretty quick for your standards."

"Tickle me. Lets get to work again. Shall we?" God said all set.

(Eye of the tiger in the background)

"Hold on. Two questions." Devil said.

"Now what?"God asked knowing what exactly his brother was going to ask.

"First. What is our back up plan and what is the code that you were talking about?"

"Thats two"

"Fine I had three questions. Now answer me"

"Firstly, the back up plan is asking dad to reel us back in time and get us back"

"Wait. Are you crazy? Dad will get us back and cut out all our independence and we will be stuck here playing frisbee with some planet's ring.

"It is a back up idiot."God said agitated.

"Fine, the code?"

"That is something called genes that will be an important component of every creature in this creation, a speciality of mine, so that the characteristics will be passed down from one generation to another. This will be the first time I incorporate such a concept. Cool huh?"

"That is some deep stuff man. Now my third question. Where did you get this sound from and what is this little planet ring doing here?" Devil asked lifting the queer object.

"Its called a song, idiot. Rock in genre. The song is called Eye of the tiger by a band called Survivor. I got it when I time travelled with dad, for some inspirational stuff. Its insane man and this planet ring is called a disc."

"I don't get crap. Anyways, if these are the things that we will be creating, its going be fun" Devil said.

"And FYI again, I take the Angels. You may go party with the Demons" God said "After all I got you out of the mess."

"Please. Take them. I was just hoping you would do me the favor. Just one request. Can I have Lucy with me?"Devil begged

"There is no Lucy among Angels." God replied

"Lucifer dude. He is the only fun guy of the lot among the Angels and he will be interested." Devil said

"Agreed.That fellow is pretty wild by my standards."

"Everything is pretty wild by your standards. You retard."

"What? How dare you?"

Hey we need a female version of this man right?" Devil interjected.

"We'll see to that" God sulked.

Technical Aspect

It took them 5 days to design the Solar system, provide the right environment and start off a new life form and simulate the process of evolution . On the 6th day, God took the task of creating Man, the greatest project to date. It took him a few attempts to get the final blend of precision, perfection, accuracy, beauty, grandeur and class. And on the 7th day he was no longer there. So history assumed he took a break and thought we all should.

"Is that the female man, man?" Devil asked enthusiastically "We need a name for it."

"I know can't think of any" God replied deep in thought

"Wow man. This is creation. I got to hand it to you bro. That is something hot." Devil said

"Got it!" God exclaimed. "You said it"
"What did I say? Hot? Are you going name that thing hot? What a retard!"

"No. Wow-man. Woman. Thats what we call it. Woman" God said all excited. "How is it?"

"This is plain stupid. I don't even know if we should even be going ahead with this plan with such absurd names."

"Lol" God said

"What?"

"You will know"

At the end of creation, God and Devil divided themselves into two parts each. God into say God(A) and God(B) and Devil into Devil(A) and Devil(B). The As entered the first man's genetic data and the Bs entered the woman's genetic data. As the copulation and mating processes took place, the genes diluted. Initially, both of them contained 50% of both God and Devil. As the mating and dilution took place, the proportion of genes varied in the progenies. Hence some had 30% of God(A) 10% of God(B) 40% of Devil(A) and 20% of Devil(B), the total percentage of their presence being 100%. So the probability of occurance of any of them could be anything from 0 % to 100% in the upcoming child. So according to the percentage of the Devil and God gene, the type of person could be determined. The sins, the deeds and all the attributes one could relate to a person being better or worse relative to a certain 50%-50% of both the genes could be determined through this. Angels and Demons have altered the course of mankind as was the will of the brothers.

Now consider the probability of having a certain percentage of presence of all four genes to be precisely the right amount in order to create both God and the Devil. The probability of the sperm cell containing that is 1 in a million as the ratio of their percentages vary equally. So if this sperm fertilizes with an egg, where the egg also through the process of meiosis returns a probability of 1 in a million, the probability of obtaining God or Devil would be

P(G or D) = 1/{(1,000,000)^2}. In this world, humans are looking forward to the coming of God. Hence the probablility of God coming from one couple would be

P(G) = 1/{2*(1,000,000)^2} = 1/{2*10^12}

Now, through the ages, not considering the genocide and the bottleneck of the gene pool, lets say for the past one million years of human reign, there have been about 10 billion couples and since the gene pool gets diluted everytime, we have the probability of God being born in this generation to be

P(G) = 1/[2*{(10)^12}^(10^10)] that is in simple terms one half of one in (a million squared to the power of ten billion) in probability.

Now, as God said in the begining about a code being saved in the genes, the concept is this.

Look at a DNA in the simplest form for analysis, that is in 2-D. We have a rope of 8s. Now in an 8, there is a beginning, a peak and an end from which another part of it grows. Such is story of everything that happens in nature. Everything has a birth, a growth and an end after which there exists a different form of that entity that grows on. So in this case, the same theory applies where at a peak, the diluted genes may start coagulating and hence increasing in concentration, thereby reversing the probability. At the end of which one may expect the birth of either God, Devil or maybe both. This can happen only years down the line and through the help of a catalyst to u-turn the process before the inevitability of extinction faces it

So unless the catalyst actually exists, there are no chances of either of them coming back to this world unless of course according to the backup plan, Father Time reverses the entire process and gives the boys a chance to change where the mistakes happened.

Sadness

2009-11-22T21:38:00.002+05:30

Saturday night, I sit by the candle
the flame glowing in my darkness
the slight breeze trembles the flame
but it stands tall in its weakness

The brightness of the sun
the clear blue sky
the salty breeze of the ocean
nudges the pupils of my eye

My anger, my sadness
my failure, my pain
salt around my eye is formed
I try for salvation in vain

Fear induced in my heart
divinition plays its part
happiness has flown away
like a tern over the Alaskan bay

Sins of hatred bind me
in chains of sorrow
wistfully, I bared my life
on the tombs for tomorrow

A white light shines through
a ray of hope fallen on me
blessed am I by the heavens
or cursed by the world of demons

The ray of hope dissappeared
I wait for the help to come again
to break away my bonds of depression
I wait for it to appear again

Engulfed in my sadness
I look for a light in the mantle
maybe, its my lack of creativity
I am staring right through the flame of a candle

The night of the conversation

2009-11-16T20:07:00.000+05:30

Deep shadows it did cast
as I walked through the woods
Dark secrets of whose
outside me withstood.

The eerie silence and the silence of the woods
did nethin but stare
at the traveller who walked tall
with a rucksack at his back and his feet bare.

The woods did call out her son's name
ne'er did he look back
aghast by his brotherhood's temptations
did he get hurt bad.

From the old tradition
to the Apollo mission, Oh!
what did the son do?
made his mother cry,did he,well thats what he did do.

As the silver light shone on the grass
he prayed to her in silence
help or not he did not know
well he did need some guidance.

Fearful of her woeful spirit
he did summon her atlast
"forgiveness or vengeance do as you please"
his heart called out to her from the past.

No my son, thou shall not cry
your mother aint vindictive
go spread it to your brothers that
I may not be so instinctive.

Mother but how can that be
thy is the only one that I will follow
leave me not in the cave of ignorance
as my heart will be hollow.

Fate shall be your guiding light
time will be your teacher
and when you will be hurt my child
I will be your healer.

Hearing so the traveller left
the rucksack at his back
his bare feet did numb in the cold
but with a good heart induced in his sack.

The mother did stare
as her son walked away
her heart did melt at the very thought
that, he would be close but yet so far away.

I did awake to find again
the sunlight poured in shallow
the daybreak arrived I realised
why my stomach with hunger did bellow.

Deep inside I did wonder
what happened yesternite
was it true or not, well
what did happen was alrite.

To all metal lovers et al...a compilation

2009-11-14T20:43:00.003+05:30

I had a dream last night, in fact it was a nightmare where the carcass of a man was shred to pieces by a cannibal corpse after his obituary. I looked up to find the slayer running away to freedom into a blackfield. I woke up disturbed, feeling the apocalyptic kiss of the kreator hit me like a dragon force. The pain felt like the injection of venom combined with the descent of hades where the blind guardian's strike felt like a godsmack me for the armageddon I've caused. I felt disoriented for sum 41 minutes and felt myself blink 182 times. I tried lighting up a cigarette but missed out on the matchbox 20 times. I made myself a juice of cranberries. I felt the saliva build up while taking in the aroma. After that, I made soup and thought of taking a stroll to ease my disturbed mind. Ouch! The soup was spicy. I just remembered the reason for it was an overdose of red hot chilly peppers. I opened my doors to take a walk to enjoy the greenday when 12 stones came rolling down and tossed me three doors down. Thankfully, I was alive and surprisingly, the doors were closed and the rolling stones had disappeared. Wondering what was happening, I went back home to be welcomed to a sight of mayhem caused by my pets including the beatles, cockroaches and wolves. A shocking scene came up ahead where the wolfmother ate thepapa roach which left me unconcious. This made me sad as the roaches were a gift to me from three children of bodom lake in Helsinki.

In the unconcious state of mind, I travelled to Kamelot, the castle of King Arthur and suddenly felt a hammerfall and heard the calling. I woke up again that day to find a blur of pink floyd, a name my room mate, Floyd had obtained due to his repeated wearing of pink shirts. Realizing the fact that he had cleaned up the garbage, I picked the soup up and went on for a walk for the second time that day. On the way, I saw the police breaking benjamin, the poor gardener who was caught with dope the previous night. I planned on visiting a friend of mine who used to call me goo goo dolls who also turned out to be a tantric and I hoped to present my case to him. On the way, I felt that my girl friend was just an antimatter of me and all she would do at home would be counting crows that came to her orchid. I thought of killing her and was on my way to an armoury to buy a bullet for my valentine when I realized the fact that she had died a fortnight ago of anthrax, a disease which had resulted in a megadeath in a colony and had turned into the story of the year. I paid my tribute to the iron maiden, a statue that was erected near my house with scorpions at its feet.

A beggar appeared in front of me and asked me to trade my soup for his korn. I refused and gave him a coin. But surprisingly, he tossed the nickelback at me and challenged me to a competition of bowling for soup. I denied him the opportunity to beat me and we walked together to a park where we sat down to talk. He told me all about himself, everything from his blood group being type o negative to him being a lamb of god. He was thrown out of the church for being a Judas priest as the church considered Judas as the arch enemy of Jesus. He also let me know that his offspring was brought up as a cynic towards the church.

He told me that he hadn't eaten anything save a limp bizkit with tea. I took him through a bridge that which was linkin parks with parks and bought him some food. On the way, I met a bunch of poets of the fall warming up for the day. I also met up with my neighbour who has some sort of an alien ant farm back at his place.

I looked up at the sky which was turning deep purple from red to black and saw a led zepplin floating. All of a sudden, the beggar asked me "do you by any chance happen to listen to the band metallica ?"

"The who?" I asked him.

"Forget it" he told me and we carried on.

He informed me that he was passionate about music and at times felt like an audioslave. He also mentioned to me that he once got a shock from playing with one of the electric instruments.

"AC DC?" I asked him.

"Don't know man. Right now, I dont care. Must be one of them. Think AC" he replied nonchalantly.

He even confided in me of the fact that he had murdered a pilot at the Rammstein air base in Germany on a black sabbath night and the incident made him abandon all guns & roses as he had just escaped the guillotine through a slipknot. We said our goodbyes and I continued my walk into a jungle where I saw my cousin's def leppard cleaning up the white skull of a deer. I had often asked him how on earth the creature manage that and he would shrug. I was thinking of going to the dream theatre to watch a coldplay when I was hit by a motorhead and realized that the 69 eyes of death were staring down at me as I was forced into the iced earth. I fell into a puddle of mud and was awarded with a cradle of filth on my face. As the machinehead drove me into the earth, the evanescence of my life was fading and the hopes of being a survivor were torn apart like the staind plain white Ts that I was wearing. I watched myself drown through leaves' eyes in the theatre of tragedy.

In my last few moments I began to wonder if my creed would let me during this night wish for an oasis of peace where nothing absolute will hinder my path to nirvana through the pain of salvation for a life going in a perfect circle.

Do we deny life in a black hole?

2009-11-14T00:06:00.003+05:30

DENIAL - The dictionary meaning of the word denial is "the act of asserting that something alleged is not true" or "the act of refusing to comply". Acceptance of new thought is by fact a difficult endeavour for mankind. The act of acceptance reflects the mind of the human or any creature for that matter. History has shown us that more than fighting the enemy or ruling the kingdom or for that matter putting up with your greatest fears peaple find it hardest to accept truth or accept facts which dawn in the mind of someone else. Is it because man is cynic? Or is it because of the most dangerous letter in the world? The letter 'I'? The ego? There is a thin line between acceptance and denial.Down the ages man has convicted his brother, his equal on the grounds of imprecation. Take for example the idea of sun being the centre of the universe. The death of Galileo has for sure resulted in a loss which mankind may never recover. The idea of divine creation which is by far accepted by the Church and by any other religion does result in the denial of the big bang. Moreover, the religious scholars even debate on the existence of other fellow religions. The idea of creation is unique. So are Big Bang, Feudalism, Marxism, etc just to name a few. The acceptance of a new idea shows how much breadth a mind has.

What exactly has denial of marijuana led to? Decreased users? Whom are you kidding? Has abolish ment of adultery resulted in decrease of it? Corruption and the porn Industy are growing. Osho says that if porn has to go, so does the church.

If denial and acceptance are antonyms of each other, so are religion and science, the two faces of a coin. The entity Universe consists of the the same things as denial and acceptance. Black hole, a body that accepts everything is the antonym of white light. But here is where the concepts of religious scholars lose to science. Science is the only place where darkness reigns over light. There is no escaping for a light that enters a Black hole. Is there? Contradiction of this fact might just be the thin line between the two. Maybe or maybe there are more. Who knows? Unanswered questions lead to ideas which lead to Hypothesis which lead to a theory which in turn leads to a controversy. Is there an idea that was but accepted at face value? Maybe this is the strength of mankind. But exploiting this strength without considering its limits is the race's weakness.

Ever wondered why no god in any mythology has ever been able 2 destroy the evil? Adonai didn't kill Lucifer, none of the devas killed the Asuras nor did ant of the Olympians kill any Titans but rather sent them to Tartarus. Why? Simple. They cannot exist without the other. A good needs an evil to survive. Just like north pole of a magnet needs a south pole to exist. This is the law of nature, of the Universe and even the almighty or should I say almighties have to follow it as do we.

Consider a likely or an unlikely situation where life must have existed on a planet in a galaxy eaten up by the dark body. This may have led to the planet's crushing to the size of a football thereby inanimating that galaxy. But consider the case when you donot complete your antibiotic course. What exactly is likely to happen? The microbes in ur body adapt to the dosage and infect you more thereby resulting in you having to take a stronger dose. Just like this, what if unlikely, the phenomenon of adaptation took place in the blackhole and the the process of genesis commenced again. Adaptation can result in the adaptability of life to the immovable gravitation of the blackhole. What if the counterpart of man in that galaxy turns out to be more equipped all physically, mentally and chemically through the beautiful process of evolution dawned in the mind of the genius Darwin and which is still being denied?