November 4, 2013 § 3 Comments
It carried an unnaturalness that could have been commissioned and supplanted by nature alone. It fit, somehow and perfectly. It felt complete, as if all the pieces and bits and colors had come together in exactly the correct proportion to build a rugged beauty that would look the same through day and night, through endless times and at all turns of the sun and the moon. It was greatness ingrained through every particle of a simple facade and exalted to a godly fashion. He could relate to it effortlessly, without the need for a deliberation or a strain for a reason or an excuse to like it. It was an eternal act of self-appreciation.
November 1, 2013 § 4 Comments
‘I was thinking of people who say that happiness is impossible on earth. Look how hard they all try to find joy in life. Look how they struggle for it. Why should any living creature exist in pain? By what conceivable right can anyone demand that a human being exist for anything but his own joy? Every one of them wants it. Every part of him wants it. But they never find it. I wonder why. They whine and say they don’t understand the meaning of life. There’s a particular kind of people that I despise. Those who seek some sort of a higher purpose or ‘universal goal,’ who don’t know what they live for, who moan that they must ‘find themselves.’ You hear it all around us. That seems to be the official bromide of our century. Every book you open. Every drooling self-confession. It seems to be the noble thing to confess. I’d think it would be the most shameful one.’
- ‘The Fountainhead’ by Ayn Rand
October 6, 2013 § 1 Comment
Pelting rain and relentless wind. In the wet evenings of early summer, we slip down the green leaves. The branches wave noisily at the grey night as it descends with another downpour. We tip-toe around small pools with atwinkle stars and rush to the veranda. The scent of pakoras and fresh tea – the clock announces 1. Time, now here, now lost. Good-natured chatter on some days, my blurry memories cough back a few scenes.
But I couldn’t be sure, such were the degrees of separation. 18 years and twenty days. Nearly forever. A dim recollection engraved on mind like a recluse amidst an ocean of hazy, blurry nothings.
We return on the day the huge wooden front door is left to sway painfully in the wild wind. The pane noisily happens against the frame, one blow after another. In a brief bout of respite, we slip through, back into the memory lane of evening lamps and hide-and-seek. A nostalgia hangs in the thin air, spread evenly upon the quiet veranda. We whirl and dance on the cobblestone steps, now delicately, now in a drunken stupor, wild and forgetful.
The trees are still the bright shine of a quite glee. They sway to our steps and nigh on two decades, they still whisper and recognize. And we laugh and read.
September 4, 2013 § 1 Comment
In the dead of the night, the Orcs crept into Azkaban and attacked the guards. The Death-Eaters were outraged over the assault and they started their joy-suck engines but the Orcs wouldn’t yield, for they had no happiness. The whole thing gave Death-Eaters a terrible headache. Then Gandalf came down to Hogwarts and in a brief seminar, revealed how the realms must mix before The Final Age. This didn’t sit well with Dumbledore, who loved being the best. So he joined hands with Melkor and summoned the White Walkers at Norway. Seven days did these White Walkers walk across the shore and just when PanAm was supposed to pick them up, they were told that the flight was delayed.
So Gandalf unabated and though many dire wolves did the woods of Azkaban contain, he took them all into his service. He also called out an army of muggles, armed with TT pistols, which had been specially trained to shoot at black curtains.
But when G. R. R. Martin learnt of this, he was deeply aggrieved. For the designs of the universe must not be forced. So he stood over the Mount Doom and calling out to Gandalf, spoke thus, “Hey Gandy! Yes, you! Die’ – and thus was the wise wizard of the Age of Android Empires dead, for Martin had a power none else possessed.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore took his leagues of White Walkers to Mount Sauria and slayed the dwarves – for rich they were and really snobbish too. This angered the timeless allies of dwarves, the Men, who took the mountains in their rage and started watching Justin Bieber videos in their desperation. But one among them, called Green Lantern, was stirred to fight evil. So he went to the local Walmart and bought a dozen energy saves, and an iPhone.
With these new powers, he waged war on Melkor’s army. Dumbledore threw many jinxes at Lantern but he couldn’t be harmed due to the Elfish Fair Skin ointment. Afterwards, marketing executive would cite him as the perfect brand ambassador in their research papers.
Five wars were fought that week and five were won by Goku who had snuck in from a blackhole and annihilated everything with his Kamehameha. Then the Valar decided to create another World but the Seven Gods disputed the decision and took them to the Supreme Court. Republicans bitterly opposed both of them but eventually, Valar stood victorious.
But bitter in their past experiences, they decided to teach Men a lesson. So they created a world of heavy metal, vampires and Apple fan bois. In this world dwelt the evil of Fox News which hid in the shadow of Mordor and frequently sent out legions of gossip-mongering news anchors. Much harm did these legions do to the hearts of Men and corrupted them. And no hope was in sight until Cold Play rose anew and challenged the might of Mordor. The fairest of men he was and he played an excellent Guitar, as is preserved in the books of Maesters. He preached that all music is not equal and that only douches can hate Rock. In time, he gathered 10,000 Faceless Men and visited the local Victoria’s Secrets to get the One Ring.
But while he was still in the Bay of Brooklyn, Melkor devised a clever scheme to steal the ring. He made a bargain with Harry Potter who used his Invisibility Cloak to get it for the Dark Lord. Thus was Melkor pleased and he sent Potter to Narnia where he became best friends with Aslan in his later days.
The woes of Men, however, were not over yet for Mordor still stood tall as the den of all evil. So the Elves and Men, and Dwarves and Starks, joined their forces with Dumbledore, for they hated the bureaucratic delays in the Ministry of Magic. Glorious was this one united army which spread from South to West and was named Golden Dragon. They marched against the might of Mordor, where the dark lord sulked over a badly cooked omelet.
When Golden Dragon reached the Black Gate, the immigration officials refused entry. So Gandalf used his powers to create three joints which the officials smoke and went crazy. Thus was good used to trick the bad, though rare have such tricks played well in the hands of Men. With the Black Gate open to them, the Golden Dragon marched into the deathly hallows of Mordor. Thence they revved up their tanks and were about to go ape-shit on the Dark Tower that G.R. R. Martin shouted from Mount Doom yet again. Before he could say something evil, though, he was gagged and sent to The Wall, where he eventually rose to the ranks of Auror in the First Order.
When the gates of the Dark Tower fell, Starks it were who gained the first entry. And the noblest among them was Stark Junior who died tragically in the TV series but was able to perform great deeds that day. He fought Melkor on the footsteps of his royal suite and though he lost his sense of humor in the fight, he finally drove Ice through the Dark Lord’s heart. Melkor laughed at the wound and told the Stark that he shall die not of a mortal man. But then the Stark told him how he died in a TV show and this made Melkor mortified who, the Ancient Books reveal, said two words before falling down and dying. And eternal in their dark wisdom are these words which were ‘Just Kidding.’
The fall of Mordor marked the Age Of Seasoned Stupidity. In that age, Men toiled through the mountains to find silicon and created computers out of them. The Maesters were unhappy and they resigned in retaliation of the Great Layoff that followed. And so, this is where the Tales of Old end.
July 30, 2013 § 2 Comments
Chunks of soul – lost – taken away by dry heartfuls of the grey night. An ashen insanity; and the bitter cold of words. You can’t hold on to the lamp-posts in the final hour. Whispers, blowing through the streets. A dull echo of anticipation crawls on the walls. Lights, sharp, piercing, red, green and dull magenta. A white wing flaps against our visions. The bleak pole sings in cockcrow. Silence, spread like an endless chasm over the houses and buildings; and streets and pavements. Water – on the scent of every particle. The breathes are happy, full of promise and welcome. But the trees drown and grieve. So put your lockets, one by one, by the footpath. Grow them into gilded ladders. You could climb but the truths sting at heights. So step slow, lest the crystal scatters. And put out the ambers. The specks of being are blasphemous. Undo the designs, the restraints and all that’s amidst. Run down the yellow strip and untie the knots.
July 17, 2013 § 2 Comments
Night crawls away in retreat
and we unruffle through the grey of dunes,
the tall buildings scattered amidst.
We pick oyster-shells on pretty lawns
and collect silk waters flowing through the mouths of high-set gargoyles.
The theatre has been swept underneath
where actors still make jests,
and you could hear them over the crashing sound of waves
Around the corner, a flimsy ice-cream parlor
continues selling salt-cones, unabashed and miserable
We try to unfold the ways
but the houses howl, with wide open jaws
When the rain pelts mercilessly, we run to the bar
and in a toast to the endless bickering of our thoughts
We lower two fishes into our glasses
and have them, on rocks
But the dunes run amok on the roads and climb atop the balconies
they tug at our ties
so we take the spoons
and have dustfuls of dry delight
Before the course ends, drums roll into the bar
and whisper the wretched gossip of the town
The town that is tinsel and ash
and the scent of bacon at very odd days
Even the high-set chimneys punctually scream of misery
while we take a stroll downtown
and hide us in our shadows, by the tower’s shade
The tide comes in cool and low at first, a gentle kiss of reassurance
It is endearing,
even when it smells rancid voyages and stale wrecks
and of the storms that must come still
So we lower ourselves, one thought at a time
Caressing the seaweed with our grey pallor
and the sea marches forth, overwhelming -
one resignation at a time
A hint of aqua pain blinds my eyes
as I see emerald lights and pretty mermaids
and the thin flakes of gold, resting on my skin
The world turns to a quickening trail of lights and colors
seeping into my eyes, and guts, through a pinhole
and when I draw everything in, it grows blank