Spotting the villain

There is this scene
Where I masturbate
Looking into the laptop screen
And out of the darkness
in the screen
comes a reflection
Two eyes
and a face
Ugly
Consuming it
without any emotion
Animal.

Addressing

Perhaps it needs to be out there, stark naked and ugly. I'm sorry. Sorry for betraying and hiding the only emotion I have. Remorse.

The fear of truth destroying my peace by way of its utterance deterred me from admitting it. But there is no better source of energy than the one that comes from knowing I have revealed myself, all my deviant desires and shortcomings, to you.

!@#(*!$@&(!@#)$&!@(&*(!_. But there is a resolve to not become a ghost, banished from the world of the living, as this sentence comes to a full stop.

Goodbye / Last lap / Disowns this.

This url is owned by Naveen Dwivedi as of now. He has hacked into the account of its earlier owner with an ease unparalleled and intends to use this space to propagate his thoughts and beliefs henceforth. The earlier owner of this url chose not to comment following his rather delicate disposition, which involves a fatal disease that makes him disown every endeavor he has been associated with even remotely.

Right now, he'd be wondering whether to let the world know it was with his consent that Mr.Dwivedi hacked in to this space. Or he could be out there, one amongst you all, scheming and plotting his next enterprise. Anyhow, we at the Digital Movers and Shakers Pvt Ltd take immense pleasure in informing the audience that you would no longer have to bear with the stupid repetitiveness with which this place functioned. This will be the beginning of a wonderful new era with a new master at its helm, steering the ship clear of the various potholes it might have to face.

Let the deceased rest in peace.

Meh.

  

Klingon

In an ill-conceived dystopic future, there is an old star, on its deathbed, surrounded by well-wishers and asteroids. In the most inappropriate of moments, it belches. The atmosphere is filled with a smell so pungent and damp that your nostrils would have wished they never came to exist had they been subjected to it.

'Why does this always have to be serious ?' asks a cat perched on the arcs of a moon, eyes pointing towards the dying star. 'Why can't you people here have some sense of humor? It doesn't matter if you come across as weird. Weird is original. The least you could do to save the rest of astronomity is to lose all that hypocrisy and tell that fucking star what it did just now is gross! Why do you people stand before it all sombre, with bowed heads? Can't you see it's going to die anyway. You won't be hurting the sad bloke since he won't come to exist in a few minutes' 

The moon that provides habitation to this insensitive race is greatly affected by the little parasite's squirm-worthy assertions. It tries to shrug it off its imaginary shoulders. The cat clings on a piece of earth with its claws. 

'The audacity of your breed amazes me. You nest here, on my ... .  .

This bad piece of squished-together-words is interrupted by a bloating need of its conceiver to consume sequential images of bare naked ladies gagging on harpoons and the sort. This entire piece of shit reminds him of a book he had recently read and vindicates his assumption that had he also set out to write science-fiction it would be as badly written as the book. Toke.

   

Wai

But you are already at the gateway to that realm. You'll find yourself walking through its coarse sands one fine morning. You wouldn't know whether to be happy or sad because all you'll know then are mutually exclusive emotions of deep despair and creative spontaneity.

There is an essential and particular question of the audience. But it isn't about them. It is about the you you see through them. By seeking to claim the audience doesn't exist you are shutting down a part of yourself. A part of yourself that is actually capable of reaching out and asking for help. And God knows, you could do with some help.  If you don't want to be vocal about it, the least you could do is put it in words and let it soar. It doesn't matter if it doesn't draw any attention (but) as long as it stays afloat it will serve you as a distant source of hope and you'll remain alive.

Perhaps it is because Ka Bey, one of the masters of the bygone era, led a fruitless life, inflicted with solitude, that it occurs to me that writers and pursuers of thought and wisdom are eventually forced to exile to a dingy apartment, consuming stacks of pornographic videos.

By threading the past and the present into one single, coherent narrative the writer may be able to salvage some of the damage he has caused.

Tuesday

There were three reasons why he had to do this today. 

1.       If it were just one, it would mean too much of importance would be attributed to one particular statement. He didn’t believe in that. He always believed there to be a varied number of reasons for any particular event. 

2.       If it were two, it would be a cliché, he thought. Duality was an oft-used concept by writers and philosophers to confuse their general audience and make them grapple with contradictions and paradoxes.

3.       Because he loved number three. This he observes from his own previous works, which had an unusually large number of ‘three’s in them. 

Bank of Votes

Crony nationalism is a malignant phenomenon here. The media sells 3^rd world people 3^rd world aspirations. It is nauseating to see the belittlement of the subscriber’s intelligence. Perhaps they hope that by saying the same thing hundred times over, everybody will start believing and imbibing it. And they have been successful in isolating the marginalized community called the Intelligent.

The Intelligent no longer watches TV shows. He no longer responds or participates in a democratic discussion since every valid argument he raises will be met with a response that goes ‘Your mother is a whore’, cheered on by thousands in front of and behind the tele-screen.

I’d blame Ekta Kapoor and her like for the sad plight the country’s Television News houses are in. If only she could have dished out A-grade soap-opers would the News TVs be not left to do her job. 

The country needs a slew of quality Television series for integrated development. I suggest somebody include that in their manifesto. 

Adhunika Kavyam

Two toothbrushes stand on top of a hill

One too short and the other too tall.

Ahoy!

A vagabond, all sweaty and thirsty,

With yellow teeth, none too kind,

Passes by

Waits, turns around and asks the shorter of the two

‘O Short One, why are you standing high and dry

When the plains below are lush and green?’

The shorter brush pauses for a second to collect his thoughts

And retorts

‘You have yellow teeth, you sad fucker’

The vagabond, hurt, stands dazed for a moment

And proceeds to the other brush
and asks with wounded dignity,

‘O tall and mighty, relieve me of my curiosity

And answer my humble query’

The tall brush doesn’t flinch nor shift his gaze

He keeps his horizontal vision horizontal

And remains silent.

The vagabond repeats his words,

‘O tall and mighty, relieve me of my curiosity

And answer my humble query’

This time the brush looks at him from the corner of his eyes

And quickly puts his eyeballs back in position.

The vagabond then suddenly springs into action

For his question had to evoke some reaction.

So, he removes his zipper

And gives them toothbrushes

A cum facial.

Preachers, Poachers, Photo Frame

Giant chessboards, drawn out majestically, flanked by space-ships filled with steaming hot rice, would get pushed into the debris of the occult fantasies of the mind tommorow. Cynicism is a natural progression from disillusionment.  This time exists and used to exist before and may come to exist again. Whimper. I heard the word today. Go out with a whimper is what it brings to mind. 

Djinn

Caught adrift?

Drift ashore?