Dreams of a starry night

Removed-too personal

Manali-Leh-Srinagar-Part 2

Worlds/Walls of our own

We all live in our own worlds, creating walls which encircle us and are hard to break down. Our citadels are our bastions of wretchedness where we hardly let the omnipresent rays of joy shine through. A top view as of today i.e the 18th day of September 2009, would reveal roughly 6.785 billion such citadels in a vast plain of emptiness with the broken down bricks and mortar of citadels long gone.

Sometimes an enlightening effort would bring some of these citadels together and a restructuring would take place but nevertheless the end would just be another bigger citadel.

We all want to reach out but are afraid due to many reasons. Life's illogical and irrational behavior teaches us a hide and seek game which makes our lives bereft of logic and rationality. We subjectively end up time and again with building our walls higher and higher not really knowing that the answer lies in the the horizontal and not the vertical. Vertical towers of babels where a few lead lives of confusion and where the few mouths confuse the ears and the minds with voices from a thousand tongues. Our walls are built so strong that the rot corrupts all that is within and sanity takes a beating which more than desired leads to the temporary bubbles of stars and dreams akin to the ones puffed up with Marijuana smoke. But such are as transient as the Marijuana jokes, powerfully strong but gone the next minute.

Lives made so pathetic because our circuit boards have been printed to deceive and be deceived. .....And we are all guilty as hell!

betrayed and used

Space space space again……….. What do I write about?, Should I write about the pain and the lack of gain with not a morsel of grain, however emo it may sound. Kind of rhymes though.

So here it goes again. In days of yore sailors would wait in anticipation for their ship to dock after months of voyage and as soon as the ship hit the wood on the buoy and the anchors drop, these fine boys would disappear off into the maze of houses and alleys. The captain and first mate would invariably look the other way as they allow the sailors their hours of debauchery. One would unfailingly find these sailors in the taverns and whorehouses drinking with face deeply buried in tankards of fermented liquid or on ripe and sometimes overripe/rotten pieces of bosoms or alternating between the two. As the hours go by some would find rooms for their temporary comfort and the less discreet ones would do it out on the alleys. For the next few hours, all the months of backbreaking work on the ship with the occasional taste of the captain’s whip and the worm infested food are forgotten. Moments of bliss are spent as the scurvy infected unwashed bodies try to get the maximum that their money can buy of the comfort offered by the ladies of undoubtedly questionable characters. For the few moments bought the fairer bodies offer the comforts of wives and lovers. Even today the practice still carries on from the filthy wharves of the third world to the glitzy and sleazy streets of Holland where such exchanges takes place openly and legally condoned. For the prudish and the morally upright not just the act but the thought of such transactions is one that brings shame and a feeling of filth and unpardonable sin. However on a deeper note one has to understand that there is a perfect understanding between buyer and seller which does not normally stretch beyond, with the transaction being my comfort for your comfort. The seller offers the comfort of her body and the buyer the comforts that his money can purchase for the seller (Of course this is a definition sidelining a few of the evils like child prostitution, human trafficking etc. and assessing the situation objectively). Apart from a few moral laments and the thought of a lake of fire and brimstone, what needs to be appreciated is that such exchanges are done with the utmost honesty. My temporary comfort in exchange for your temporary comfort and the matter ends there. Loyalty, trust, in sickness and in health etc. are all absent which suits the situation very well. Compare this with the hurt that one gets when one finds out that he/she has been cheated, lied to, emotionally kidnapped, manipulated and used. This is in the case of a normal relationship where it is expected to cherish and be cherished and respected. Life becomes a misery when it hits you that you have been played. The hollowness and the sense of emptiness become so big as if to suck all the infinite unhappiness of the world to fill in the void. Imagine what the other person must have thought about while doing what was done to you!. Your sense of betrayal is overpowering and your self respect takes a dump and every single waking moment is spent in trying to drag yourself forward and existence becomes a punishment. And every moment that should be spent sleeping is spent in hollowed waking moments.

In ode to betrayal here is a song from one of my favorite bands, Crowbar:

I gave my heart and soul to you my friend
You let me fall
If you could only see what's in my heart
You'd take my hand
I've lived this life as a man would do
Why's it so hard to find the truth?
My faith is strong within myself
I bleed of pride
Inside
I won't forgive
You can't take it back now
It's to hard to swallow
No words
No conviction
I've found the truth inside myself
But I am still doing time
Opened my eyes to what is real
This world is hard
It's cold
It's agony

Crowbar- Existence Is Punishment

Goodnight to you!

Musings

Space space space ...i don't really know what to write about but there is this incessant itch inside me to write whatever is cruising through my thoughts. The only problem is that there are no commas to the continuous and disjointed mini stories that keep on flowing through the network of ganglions and receptors in my grey matter. By the way i wonder how much of it has rusted due to my continual abuse of it through the years.
I work...a snitch...i am falling asleep ...snitch....i eat snitch....i workout...snitch...sudden thoughts so powerful, so emotional and sometimes so enlightening that i almost attain nirvana or dream of being a savior of humankind, but as sudden as they come they fade into oblivion the same way. The bad part is that like the fall after a cocaine high things get so bad that even pulling a minute of further existence becomes a torture. One minute Begees is singing staying alive in my head and doing a disco and the next minute a dark song by the cure eats away the reason for my very existence.
Some or most people, depending on the environment i am in at that particular period, would call me lucky for what i have but what i have learned is that the feelings of luck, happiness and wealth are just subsets of a transcendental state of being and not anything static that one can define. I do sometimes feel gratitude for what i have and what God or destiny (for the atheists) has given me and get so drunk with joy that life becomes very meaningful but another moment a dog living on the street outside my home may feel more lucky than me i.e. if a dog can feel lucky.
I like the joy of a good book, the fall of rain on the balcony, the sight of wooly clouds with the backdrop of blue sky, bliss from the church, a motorcycle ride, a dance floor full of chicks, a case of beer before me, the face of a happy beggar when i palm him/her with a 50 rupee note and so on and on, but then poof, such joys evaporate.
No amount of bliss that the face of a lover or her caress offers remains ingrained for long within me. I do want to find the one but more often than not , maybe because of my suspicious mind or my fear of what lies beyond, one becomes another and this another becomes another and the one becomes the ones. Hell no, i have not found the one (maybe vaguely this one time) and am truthfully skeptical of finding the one.

And so it goes, and so it goes...simple fact is that we are all ants and as an ant i need a sanctuary.

Not to be confused with a loser, after all boys don't cry, i am trying my best to reinvent myself and be a better man. I don't want to feel sorry for myself either, only assholes do that (Line borrowed from Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami). I have attended church dutifully without anyone's coercing for the past month and a half and had even surprisingly stopped the stone cold steve austin beer guzzling act for the same period. Let's see where it leads.

The shit that i am writing right now, which may bear a close resemblance to the ramblings of a teenage emo head, may make me so embarrassed tomorrow that i will immediately delete this post or add some modifications, but right now it summarises the state of mental being (defined exactly by the erhu solo of the first video in my previous post) i am in so i'll just post it as it is . And hell i don't care who reads it anyway, i am not the type of person who selects topics with care and then do a few rounds of edit before posting. I write without a care and then just slap it on to my post.

Goodnight.

Heartbreakingly beautiful

The first video is a hauntingly beautiful erhu solo from the band CHTHONIC, a very talented black metal band from Taiwan. erhu is a traditonal stringed instrument/violin from Taiwan, which the band has integrated so beutifully with their brand of metal.
The band is so good that Ozzy himself paid their expenses to participate in Ozzfest 2007, when in fact sharon and company were charging bands to go on stage.
I am adding the second video as an intro to the type of music they play. The song is called quasi putrefaction.