Friday, July 24, 2009

And I Wonder...

Imagine sitting in a quiet empty cubicle at work, where you are lost in your deep thoughts, with your index finger up your nostril, focused on digging your nose, deep down in, in order to locate that irritating speck of dried mucus that has been on your mind since the time your nieghbour had said, “I am leaving for lunch” and you had immediately got to working that irritation out; and just when the finger is deeply lost in your nose and you have reached your moment of glory, your mucus of destination, you find this attractive colleague, whom you've always fantasized spending endless nights with, walking to your cubicle, eager to share some good news with you. Looking at her walk, you are sure that she is happy and excited. So it has to be some good news. You knew this even before she had completed the act of opening the cabin door. Yes, you have always studied her so intently, so someday, perhaps, she finds it really sweet that you understand her so well and she brings your fantasy to life, your real-life porn star, your saviour, your colleague. But right then, you start fingering your nostril vigourously so you get rid of that shitty mucus and right then it occurs to you that your entrie life has been like that, except you being the finger, who has been searching for his path to glory, the path to ultimate peace and freedom, inside a deep dark hole, all alone and when you've finally found it, and just when you are reaching for that special thing, just like your fingertips have now, you have to stop and withdraw yourself, like you withdraw your finger and neatly place it on a clean handkerchief so you are ready to indulge in a handshake with that beautiful approaching lady colleague. But your moment of peace will have to wait, as more troubles crowd your mind when the lady colleague absolutely ignores you, bypasses you to greet the guy in the next cubicle with an exaggerated hug or even worse, when she approaches you but takes back her hand almost as instantaneously as she had brought it forward, ready for you to hold and give you that one tiny moment of almost sexual gratification, in dismay after she has seen you performing the act of disgust. The words she speaks are then, some jumbled syllables' group hitting your ears, which are completely meaningless and all you can think of is, “Did she see me digging my nose and if she did, is that why she isn't shaking hands with me and if she isn't shaking hands with me now, will she ever shake her hands with me”, or an even worse thought occurs, “if she did not see me digging my nose, why did she withdraw her hand. Does she consider me so disgusting or is it that she saw me doing something even more disgusting with my hands than my fingers sticking up my nose and now I'll be forever deprived of taking her hand in my hand, even for that brief second.” And as soon as you are over with these horrible chain of thoughts, she has completed telling her good news and has been waiting for your reaction, which comes in a bit late and sounds even more lame, “Ah good! Congratulations” especially, when there was no need to add a congratulations at the end of the sentence, as she questions with intense curiosity, “Thanks. But why are you congratulating me? Are you being sarcastic?” And then it happens, the sudden loss for words and the glorified stupidity radiating from your face, so loud, that it feels like this is your real face and what you wear everyday is just a mask or some make-up. But life moves on and so does the goddess. Resigning to your fate, you return to your world, and then back to your chair, you look around to confirm you are still hidden from any other prying eyes and get back to digging out some relief. But just when your fingertip finds it's way, back to the mucus of relief, in comes your neighbour, walking in with your boss, ready to shake your hand. Here, the process is thankfully less complicated. Out comes the finger, out comes the handkerchief, cleans the dirt, handkerchief then goes into the pocket and you are all set to shake hands with your mucus for life. You are least bothered if anyone has now seen you picking your nose. Unfortunately, relief will need to wait.

Monday, July 13, 2009

Fear Of The Bark

I am the man who walks alone
And when I'm walking a dark road
At night or strolling through the park

[A soft bark keeps playing in the background]

When the light begins to change
I sometimes feel a little strange
A little anxious of that bark

Fear of the bark, fear of the bark
I have a constant fear that someone's barking there
Fear of the bark, fear of the bark
I have a phobia that some someone's smelling me

Have you rode your bikes on that road
And have you felt your hands go cold
When you're reaching for the brakes?
Sometimes when you're scared to take a look
At the back of your right foot
You've sensed that someone's smelling you

Have you ever walked alone at night
Thought you heard a bark behind
And turned around and a dog is there
And as you quicken up your pace
You find it hard to look again
Because you're sure there're two more there

Fear of the bark, fear of the bark
I have a constant fear the dogs are barking there
Fear of the bark, fear of the bark
I have a phobia that dogs are chasing me

[A heavy distorting barking solo]

Watching flight 666 an hour before
You've had a beer and some more
The unknown canines on your mind
That sleeping dog is playing tricks
You sense, and suddenly eyes fix
On chasing shadows from behind

Fear of the bark, fear of the bark
I have a constant fear that someone's barking there
Fear of the bark, fear of the bark
I have a phobia that someone's smelling me
Fear of the bark, fear of the bark
I have a constant fear that dogs are always near
Fear of the bark, fear of the bark
I have a phobia that dogs are chasing me

When I'm walking a dark road
I am a man who walks alone

Original lyrics for reference here.

Thursday, July 09, 2009

[Twisted] Perception

Looking at the world around it really makes me wonder at the amount of selfishness it’s filled with. There is nothing wrong with it, as long as it doesn’t quite hurt the other beings around you, but being in a society that really can’t happen. Our actions will always, be it our choice or not, affect someone else in a way [good or bad is a matter of perception].

Look at human beings producing children. First of all they are not happy with their lives. They want more and more and more and more. You give them everything and then, in the name of evolution and progress, they stay insatiable, attached to everything they don’t own, but only perceive as theirs. The most ridiculous thing that human beings get attached to is another human being, who is the most volatile substance on this earth.

Human beings are obsessed with playing God and controlling everything around them. We are power hungry, greedy animals, with no respect for another. We say we do respect and we love someone else. That’s one of the biggest of lies we tend to believe in. No one can dare love a person who loathes you, disrespects you. Why? Cause we are selfish. We want to own a certain person so we can mutate him into a being we want. We like to play around with him and make him one of our creations. We want to be God. In fact, love is the biggest hoax this world has created. Don’t get me wrong, love is an excellent marketing tool, look around you. Love sells. Entertainment sector is selling love in hordes and we are buying it. Shops are selling love in cards and we are paying for it baby! Love, the term, I guess was creation of a genius. A gold mine that it is, you can sell anything in the name of love.

Look at these stupid kids falling in love every second day or choosing their “the ones” for lifetime. “I need a companion” they say,” A boyfriend, a girlfriend, a friend, my future family, my current family, my substitute family, so I don’t die alone, so I don’t breathe alone.” It’s a fashion statement which we all like to wear. I own have a boyfriend or a girlfriend. “You need to have one, cause everyone around you has one, hell, who wants to end up all alone”, you say, “you need a companion to share your life with”. Sorry, but statements like these make me cough my guts out.

Then there are families. Marriage or committed relationship of its kind is another way to keep your boyfriend or girlfriend for yourself. Is this an enforced trust or just a mere license to sex? Given a choice, every human being would love to have multiple companions, multiple people he or she can sleep with. Many will accept this fact, some won’t. I call them idiots and escapists; escapists because, they can’t even be true to themselves. They don’t have the courage to accept that their so-called wrong thoughts are not even one bit wrong or unethical and just plain animal psyche-driven. But marriage is a special bond or prison which shall restrain you from sleeping around with another companion [or such are the conditions of it]. Commitment is another word they designed to justify their “Godship”. After a few days, years or months of marriage, the oh-so-selfless human beings produce children to bring further happiness to their lives. Don’t get me wrong, children are a bundle of joy and I myself enjoy spending time with kids, but it still doesn’t justify my “right” to bring another life to this earth. No purpose, no meaning. “To keep this human race alive”, some say. I really wonder how many people are making children out there for the sake of humanity. If I had the balls to do so, I’d blow this human race away and end everyone’s miseries all at once. But again, I am no God to choose over your life and your right to live. So I should just mind my own business, I guess.

I’d really like to question families on why they go on to make babies, and most of them might voice, “Support for when we grow old and feeble”. So, you take care and nourish your baby, give him or her good education, so that one day he or she becomes rich and becomes your staff. You have the power to bring life to this earth. But do you really have the power then, to own this life you give birth to? For all you know, your assumptions can come crashing down all at once if the kid dies at your young age, or his young age and you are in “need” of him or her, or if he just runs away on you, or worse, he throws you off the cliff to fetch a staff for yourself. Now that would be funny, your own creation telling you to get the hell out of his life. Your chances of playing God gone for a toss. No control, no power, life of a pauper?

Need? Seriously, do we ever need anyone, at all? Can’t we just be self-sufficient and satisfied?

Then there are other idiots who claim that children are a symbol of their love. Is it a proof that they had lots of sex while they were still potent? Or is it again the fear of the unknown gripping them and so they make kids so they can still feel the existence of themselves surviving on this earth after they are long gone. Everyone is afraid of death. Nothing to be ashamed of here, life after death is completely unknown and only theories can be constructed to know what happens after. I call that fair. If you look at our lives, it’s just lived on these theories, these vague ideas. Our lives are never defined, never structured really. We are brought here blank and naked. Then we are dressed to meet the needs of the society and are given the power to think. We are even made to believe that we have a choice. Then we start “knowing” things around us. We start gaining intelligence, become “enlightened” and knowledgeable. I say, we become more and more stupid as we grow old and “wise”. We fill our heads with ideas and perceptions. We never know what life is about really, but just take an idea and live with it the whole life. It keeps mutilating no doubt, but one idea only is replaced by another. This defines our course of life. Just an idea, just a thought, and nothing more is our destiny. So, while we are walking our course and while we are breathing that air, we are aware of our surroundings. But we are not aware of a world beyond this life. This life is a prison with no windows. A heavily guarded, thick walled prison, from where death is the only escape. But we get too accustomed to the idea of life eventually, we get immune by all the good and bad, all the acceptable and unacceptable around us and then we become a part of this prison. We do not then want to go out of here as we do not then have an idea of the world outside the same. We do not then have an idea of a life beyond this prison. We are dying in our lives, drowning, falling, succumbing helplessly, sometimes happily, but definitely timidly, as we choose to rather suffer with someone like us, than with some unknown, unseen [or maybe forgotten] entity. Hence, life is chosen over death and we fear looking beyond. Therefore, create children, so we have a symbol of ourselves alive on this earth, while we are sailing on some other planet. We think we have become immortal by giving life. We think we have created life and hence we are also God. We think we know, but all we have is an idea and thoughts. All this illusion of a world is our creation, so fragile that one whisper of a breath can blow it to bits. Children are our insurance, our security blankets that make us believe, we shall survive on this earth even after our time is done.

There are quite a few couples who make children for business purpose, so they can lead a helping hand to the family business. I respect such couples. They are at least honest about their selfish attitudes. They have the courage to accept that they are creating life to serve them and don’t feed the world other deceptive ideas.

I can just reach to this conclusion from all this. World is selfish, every form of life is selfish, etching its survival at the cost of every other living form. The only person we can love is our own stupid self. The only reason we love our self is because we are afraid to die. The only reason we fear death is because we are accustomed to this prison of a life. If only we dare to step beyond and open up, accept death, will we lose this fear, this selfishness, this curse.

****** ****** ****** ****** ******

“Even Gods are mortal. They die with their followers” - Neil Gaiman