[Show all top banners]

Lemon
Replies to this thread:

More by Lemon
What people are reading
Subscribers
:: Subscribe
Back to: Kurakani General Refresh page to view new replies
 You are wrong!
[VIEWED 5542 TIMES]
SAVE! for ease of future access.
Posted on 12-27-06 10:17 PM     Reply [Subscribe]
Login in to Rate this Post:     0       ?    
 

The piece below is by a friend. I think its brilliant. The writer doesnt agree. We'd like to know whos right and who is not. Help! :)

The clouds spread like white berries on a pudding, covering the sky in their pure candy cotton, slowly the icing begins to drip thickly upon the heads of scurrying urban pedestrians-

It rains.


“Society, the teddy bear the masses cuddled up to sprung to life and devoured its unsuspecting victims one at a time. Paranoia spread like an epidemic through crumbling streets of the slums to marbled floors of the new age palaces. Only the recluses that hid in cynical chambers of their minds remained unaffected. They had long lost faith in the cohesive property people believed society possessed and merely chuckled as the human mice ran in helter skelter. For them, the cynics, society stood on what dreams were made up of… stardust… It was their turn to laugh and laugh they did.


The information age- as they called it- was the age of opening up scalps of mere nestlings and pouring down as much information as possible in the hope of creating some sort of super human race. But instead they created a horde of intellectual Frankensteins. The arms race, the space race, the god damned economic race, everyone was racing towards something, something that they themselves didn’t understand. It was a time of intense weirdness. Life’s worth was weighed on a scale against a copper. Art was the performance of emptying the head on sidewalks to earn a dime. Life was the art of breeding, accumulating and then dying.‿


Wrote Rohan, a youth of twenty four going on seventy four as he preferred to be thought of…


The remains of Rohan’s amateur notes on attempting to describe the 21st. century and his life are the only surviving evidences of what it must have been like before the Avian Flu pandemic. In reading the latter, I found that I agreed with most of what he has to say; many do and many would. But I’d like the reader to be conscious that exaggerations and biases are indeed present in the text and advise him/her to keep an open mind, considering the times and conditions under which the following pages were written. Keeping things in context, you can only limit yourself to the reality of his tale. This tale…


“Nature glowed in all her brilliance under the sun that illuminated the paths treaded by the Buddhas and the Christs of the past. Yet, the darkness hovering over every creature’s head spoke of impending doom. Like mechanical insects, human beings began swarming into concrete jungles of the modern city. Children burdened with bulging backpacks hurried into their respective ‘grocery store’ schools to purchase a package called ‘education’. Then there were others, burdened with a sack full of garbage, inhaling glue, restraining themselves from smashing up everything in sight. There were self proclaimed artists and intellectuals sipping whiskey in dimly lit bars, asserting their views upon each other in loud voices that transcended the streets and ended up in political arenas. And then there were those like myself, who wanted to break away from such social obligations that molded anyone involved into passive ‘sheep’.


Sheep were one aspect and politics the other. Politics was intriguing. Ancient men who should be living in comfortable retirement homes, fought for power promising to bring about changes. The only changes were in names and ideologies though. They brought in various makes of fancy empty platter to serve the hungry, when all they needed was food. Politics was indeed very intriguing.


It was in such times that I lived and observed, doubtful of where and what I would be able to dedicate my limited knowledge and skill to, in what seemed like a bastard whirlpool of insanity. Clenching the likes of Blake, Huxley, Morrison and Cobain close to my chest, I turned to literature. Like a stray dog I was kicked out of the literary world, for the way I perceived literature was different. That’s when I began to write for the sake of writing what I felt rather than for communicating to the masses. It was a hell lot easier; no more complaints, no more corrections on how things should be. I could express myself for myself, and a few others who didn’t mind reading what I had to say.


As a child I pondered the night sky seeking out constellations. It wasn’t until a few months back that I started seeing patterns everywhere… the sky, the hills, the faces… everywhere. I starved myself for about a month, walked barefoot in leech infested swamps, slept on the damp grass and stared into the skies. The hills, green with patterns of a thousand Buddhas meditating, a Jew being hit by a Nazi soldier with the butt of a rifle, found more of my interest than the mechanical life I had escaped from for a while. I almost went completely crazy (I think I already am a little bit at least) the day I came back into ‘civilization’. It was complete chaos. Horns, people screaming, sirens…oh and the sights… my green meditating Buddhas were replaced by heaps of trash, vehicles… I had even forgotten they existed, of all shapes and sizes… men, women and children adorned in weird fiber with weird expressions on their faces… I meekly walked back home and stared at a few pictures. I then went up to the roof and I looked at my beloved hills… I was relieved when I could vaguely but still make out a few patterns and meditating Buddhas.


You know how a lot of people say that humans and chimps are closely related? Well I think I’m more related to trees… absurd as it may sound, it’s true… I feel like I’m made up of wood. Mummies remind me of wood too… they don’t remind me of chimps or even of human beings… they just remind me of wood. I really don’t know why I feel this way… but I do… “So what to do, in Kathmandu?‿, I had a friend who used to say that a lot. Brings back memories… Talking about memories… I remember a time when I must have been around 2 years old or something. I had locked myself into a room and was standing on a chair trying to turn on the radio which was on a pretty high shelf. I guess I’d have stayed in there, grew roots and have become a tree by now if my grandparents hadn’t found out and sent some guy in through the window to rescue me.


After confirming myself as a product of the woods, the four corners of a room ceased to offer me the solace of being at home. In the woods, my responsibilities were limited to looking after myself and providing for myself what nature had in store. Home was different. In order to be accepted into the family I needed to change, to defer… to become flesh and bone again. The love I felt for my immediate family was so much that I pretended to be flesh and bone, did what was expected of me but I was very much still wood on the inside. We all try to be someone who we’re really not at some point in time or the other. And we must be familiar with depression that follows when we’re not able to live up to our pretentious nature. The depression was clearly there. What made things worse was when I forgot my role as a person and became wood again. Such instances created extremely difficult upheavals in regular family processes that resulted in the depression within me spreading outwards. It was evident that my presence not only affected me for the worse but as well as my family. I needed out… to leave… and that’s exactly what I did one fine afternoon with a bag full of clothes and not a single penny in my pockets.


I wondered down streets I knew since childhood but they now seemed in this peculiar light of newly found independence, unfamiliar. I found shelter under some tree from the glaring sun where I closed my eyes for a while and rattled my brains for a solution. Going back home was out of the question. Not for a few weeks at least… the only other thing I could think of was calling on some friends who had like myself, become wood to some extent or I thought they had anyway.


We had become a tribe of three… a tribe of the trees and we were to make this crazy journey on our own. Amongst the three of us we had barely 500 rupees, a sum we usually would spend in an hour drinking some chilled beer. But money never is an obstacle to an explorer. The harder it is the better… wasn’t that the very reason we set out of our comfortable homes for?


We found ourselves roaming around for a couple of hours and came to the conclusion that our daring journey would have to be postponed to a time more favorable. Defeated we dragged our tired feet homewards. I made some French toast and ate like a beast. It’s funny to think how, money, this awful vice, had such control over our lives. It was impossible to get anything done without it. Yeah! Sure the best things in life are for free… but hell… it’ll end up as debt on someone’s list one way or the other! My wooden body needed nourishment and unfortunately wasn’t able to photosynthesize. Utterly tragic!


Tales of people wondering off into the forests, free from the tentacles of modernization and all its evils were everywhere. Why weren’t we then able to succeed in our quest? Did we lack the drive? Or, were we just born too late? The sixties sounded so colorful, the flower children, the love… but then that was a story of the west. The frustrated youth of the west had turned east in search of meaning… while their world was neck deep in conflict and war. So was ours… but we were the east… so where were we to flee to in search of meaning, the west? Well, that was what a lot people had been doing and I started to think that it wasn’t such a bad idea after all. They eye of the storm would definitely be calmer. What were political boundaries anyway? It seemed foolish for us, the children of the Universe to limit ourselves to set boundaries and ideologies. Now I wanted to travel. To conquer all the continents, learn and understand… but if we needed money just to live in the forest… how much of it would we need to travel the world? Man…. Everything was so complicated. Maybe if we never got to where we were… I mean you know this world dominated by fast cars, MP3 players and all that… we’d be better off. We should’ve stuck to agriculture and hunting. I envy those sailors who set sail to discover the world for the first time. How exhilarating it must have been for them! f@&* the information age for feeding us everything leaving almost nothing at for us to discover on our own. F@*& money for making life so complicated for those who don’t have it!


I could boost of many friends but only of a few true ones. I guess it’s the same for most people. The college I attended had the weirdest bunch of people I had ever come across. Most of them seemed to enjoy playing mind games. The girls… they were for sure the weirdest… not all of them though… but this particular group… they kind of made me feel like jumping up and ripping their necks open for no particular reason and at the same time, they scared me. Though I was mostly smiles and acting stupid around them… I observed them closely and their behavior was different from any person or tree I knew. Deep down inside I thought they were some sort of monsters unleashed upon the world to scare the crap out of unsuspecting victims like me. I’ve attended a lot of institutions and I’ve met a variety of people, men and women… but none that radiated so much malice. There was a time I thought there was something wrong with me and I tried to change in order to be accepted by this malicious flock. Now however, I am dead sure that I couldn’t be whatever they want me to be like nor would I want to be accepted by them at all. I kept a safe distance… mostly smiles and making a fool out of myself… yet alert!


Their discussions in public revolved around shoes, make-up, dresses and normal girlie things. However, their eyes… their eyes had that insane twinkle in them… as if saying ‘just you wait… I’m gonna have you for breakfast tomorrow’. But then there were these other girls you could go and talk about life and stuff like that, too. They for some reason usually kept quiet when these monstrous females were screaming (they for some reason communicated by screaming) at each other. I had developed a theory about the screaming part though. I believed they screamed in order to direct attention towards themselves. It’s a pretty simple theory but I can think of no other reason for their behavior and their screaming. Anyhow, I had become pretty accustomed to these, in simple terms, ‘bitches’ to be completely unaffected by them. My smiley and crazy act had an awkward affect on them which I hadn’t bargained for. Their superiority complex had become the size of a blimp… and to think of them playing mind games. HA! So the moral of this story? Never play mind games! It comes back to you ten folds and screws you up so hard that…. that … wait I don’t want to say that… that you can never get out of that innocent game you started to confuse little boys.


Life without any difficulties would I believe be most dull. I’d curse heaven’s doors if they were to lock me within and would look for a wall to jump over immediately. If all conflicts were resolved, if everyone was satisfied and the world became a bowl of utopian soup, we’d become soggy pieces of toast; tasteless and ruined. The conflicts and unsatisfied longings give us reason to live, to act, to achieve… minus them and all that’d remain is boredom. Already we are running out of new things to explore, at the same rate we’re exhausting our fossil fuels. What meaning would love retain if it were so easily accomplished? A visit to the nearest whorehouse would be sufficient. It’s interesting to note how people complain about the very things that give meaning to their lives. Pain confirms existence… arise… go and drain that cheap liquor… go smash your head on the concrete and let warm female companions lick your hard earned wounds.


My head hurts, my whole body hurts… my heart… hurts… it aches like a pregnant pimple… Life doesn’t get any realer… this is real… yet it is just a dream… a real dream… that’s what life is… but like the wise man once said “no one here gets out alive‿.


Amidst all this pain… this extremely rare form of pain that stretches from my beat body to my immortal soul… I feel alive… because I feel… it’s a bloody miracle!!! The hangover from smashing up someone’s face, especially if it’s a person you know, is painfully pleasant. You just let go… all that frustration… all that anger… stored up for so long… just bring it down on a familiar face that triggers the explosion. Let the blood drip… paint the city red… with blood… print t shirts in the pigment of divinity… blood… let it spill… until you have had enough of it and calm rightfully reigns over the turbulent waters of your life again… then with the infinite as a witness… swear to never spill blood again… let your pagan soul reach out to the distant stars that continuously wink at your insane pursuits that have driven you to the depths of hell, the country club and your momma’s house for pardon. Smash all idols right now… and embrace the stranger beside you who broods in painful solitude of being born into a world of many with not enough heart and the substance it meticulously pumps… blood…


Philosophies remain sterile until impregnated by the thoughts of the other half… the cosmic union works in ways that are mysterious to humans… who have capitalized on self indulgent institutions… branding relationships in the manner of cattle… swiftly ushered into specific categories that bear on the spectator and indulger a sense of morality and value. Damn them! We were wed in the stars… each one of us… the souls that make time bend in their favor are not to be taken lightly in festive celebrations born from the ignorance of one’s true identity. And what happens if they are taken lightly? Well, why don’t you just look around?
 
Posted on 12-27-06 10:22 PM     Reply [Subscribe]
Login in to Rate this Post:     0       ?    
 

The seed and the egg are not different… they are constituents of the same complete… they are complimentary to one another… universally... from mice to the cosmos… it’s all about the will to screw… to procreate… to unite… to screw… and to baffle talking baboons… giving them a much needed topic… to rebuke – to flaunt unintelligible blabber upon one another. To exercise casket mouths to open up and reveal the corpse of ill thought hidden in discrete quarters, under the serpentine tongue. Existence is inert… life is spurting up everywhere… all the time… the veil of dualism inhibits the voyeur to bring the magick of life into its dead eyes. Break the rules that were created to pacify the ever growing human consciousness. Walk the edge… see for yourself what lies where and chose what fits your fancy. Normalcy… is a dynamic state… the only thing normal is change… transformation… be what you like… change... again and again; those who bought your land cannot buy your freedom and your stars… your universe…


It was customary to say hello to our teachers in school. We used to compete amongst ourselves as to who’d say hello to the same teacher the most on the same day… a game to annoy the rule setters. If you can’t win them then flatter them to death… yeah! Revolt… is not synonymous to violence… revolt is to be sick of… longing change… as Mahatma Gandhi said, “The biggest change you can bring in the world is by changing yourself‿. The virtues of disobedience were sown early in fertile pastures of my young mind. The seasons have been good, bringing in a lot of harvest… sometimes, more than I’d want… the universes aren’t set on rules… no one has ordered the sun to shine… fly to fly… the poet to grieve… like existence… the knowledge of one’s duty is inert… it is man’s duty to live and explore the space he occupies… external rules brought on top of him will only subdue his inert nature of freewill temporarily… in the long run it will be disastrous. The best way of convincing people is not by force but by providing choices… tighten the knot too much and the string breaks… That’s what we were. Children born in confusing times that saw the darkness brought by human ignorance as well as the light of the eternal… We were taught to obey rules that bred ignorance… but the light of the eternal had a powerful way of dissuasion … tension on the string… snap!!! Renegade children with divinity perched on their lips and a world full of superficial scum that enjoyed feeding off their shit… it was indeed an age that appreciated art and art… the friend of the lonely, the escape for those of not this sphere… the fix for the sick ‘think’ junkie… became big… like the tits of a woman on a sturdy diet of steroids…. Revolting… so this is how we… the generation born from abominable mind locks created revolt… through art… in hope of bringing the sheep back on track.


The sheep are generally content… as long as they have fodder to munch on and a leader to follow. They are extremely driven by habit. Change, for them is worse than getting your appendix removed. They’d go to any extents to preserve the life style they are habituated with… from inventing laws… norms… values… and so on. Life is limited to vision. Their vision barely exceeds the parameter of their bellies… and because I chose to live a life of my own… they find it extremely hard to comprehend… the intelligent… well read boy… why’d he have to be so reckless and shouldn’t he have chosen a career by now? Well my dears, my career was chosen for me in the stars, I needn’t waste valuable time in this dimension worrying about what career to choose… I leave that for you to worry about. I am truly sorry for you… but as you yourself have told us so many times, that “the horse can only be taken to the waterhole… it must decide to drink on it’s own‿. I have shown you the ocean of happiness, forget the pool… yet if you’d rather worry about careers and what not… I am helpless… leave me in peace… just don’t tread on me!


“Rohan, someone is here to see you‿, bellowed our maid servant from outside. “Who is it?‿ I bellowed back with a hint of irritation. I despised being disturbed while I was reading. “It’s Pinky from next doors.‿ “What the hell?‿ I thought to myself. Pinky like her name suggested was the quintessential girl, pretty as a picture who even showed evidences of intelligence from time to time. We’d been neighbors for over three years. I had tried to introduce her to literature but she seemed the least bit interested and stuck to Sidney Sheldon. She had been avoiding me for months; ever since I accidentally ran over her cat, Feathers.


I gave myself a critical look in the mirror and raced downstairs. “Hello Rohan‿, she said in almost a whisper.


She looked like a Goddess in her long ruffled creamy silk gown. She was unusually fair for a Nepali girl. Her large dark eyes always had a childlike innocence in them only to be contradicted by a smirk she usually wore. The smirk however was absent today. She had sensuous thin lips and a slender nose… I fell in love with her all over again.


“Hi, I’m sorry what happened to Feathers. And after a while I added quite assertively, “You know it was purely accidental.‿


“I know, I’m sorry I was a bitch about the whole thing.‿


“No you weren’t‿, I found myself involuntarily protesting even though deep down I really did feel she was.


Raising her slender right hand she brushed some of her long brown hair out of her eyes. I always found that extremely attractive. “Anyway, it’s been so long since we last talked… I was…umm… wondering if we could go for a walk and catch up on things?‿ She blushed into crimson.


We found ourselves walking down streets we must have walked a hundred times together.


“You know‿, she said, “I recently had a fling with this guy, but I later found out he’d been lying to me… the bastard!‿ Her eyes were filled with tears. Out of instinct I took one of her hands and rubbed it affectionately. I was rewarded by one of her famous penetrating smiles that were capable of making any normal man skip a beat.


“I’m so stupid… I never even liked him, it’s just that I felt so alone…‿ she trailed off. “It’s ok now‿, I said in a soft cajoling tone deliberately not asking her what he had done. My mind however was going over every possibility. “He musta screwed her and left… no! no! She’d never let anyone do that… maybe he already had a girlfriend… but maybe she really did get screwed!‿ I thought with a pang of jealousy rising up within me.


“How about you Rohan?‿ she said wiping her eyes with the back of her left hand.


“What about me?‿


“Well, what have you been up to lately?‿


“Nuthin much… you know? Just been doin some reading and been thinking about a few things‿, I said slowing my pace a little bit.


She must have I thought I’d been thinking of her or something because she excitedly looked up to me and asked “About what?‿ with those huge black eyes looking right into mine.


“I think I’d bore you‿


“No! Go ahead‿, she protested.


With that I let my tongue unleash the thoughts that had been haunting my head for the past few days.
 
Posted on 12-27-06 10:22 PM     Reply [Subscribe]
Login in to Rate this Post:     0       ?    
 

ufffffffff !time nai chhaina yeti lamo padhirakhna !
 
Posted on 12-27-06 10:23 PM     Reply [Subscribe]
Login in to Rate this Post:     0       ?    
 

yawwnnnnnnnnnnnn!!!!

where's my sleeping pill? :P

LooTe
 
Posted on 12-27-06 10:29 PM     Reply [Subscribe]
Login in to Rate this Post:     0       ?    
 

lemon ho ki orange ho, yesto lamo kasle padhchha
 
Posted on 12-27-06 10:29 PM     Reply [Subscribe]
Login in to Rate this Post:     0       ?    
 

“We measure time in context to light and the circling of our planet around the Sun, right? But is time limited to the way we conceive it? Is time the mere tick tock of our clocks that countdown to death? If there were living beings on the electrons of an atom speedily circling the nucleus, would our seconds equate to that of theirs? How about the cumulative time for our solar system circling the centre of our galaxy? Does our concept of time that we say we lack in this so called fast paced modern society still work? Is it possible to measure distances to the stars with the help of a mere yardstick? Where then, does our reality lie? The busy streets of any city offer a sore spectacle to the eyes, people rushing about from one place to another, all in attempt to overcome that horrid time. When I am told to come back to reality are people implying that I come down to what they perceive reality as? Can there be a common reality? Or is it unique to each individual as their thumbprints are? Is the human mind capable of milking the answers out of the Universal teat? Once more is it possible to measure distances to the stars with the help of a mere yardstick?‿


“I don’t think so‿, she said meekly as if I’d punch her if she didn’t. Women! I continued…


“Tom, an injured war hero, came back home after an absence of seven months to see his wife, Silvia in bed with his best friend. Is Tom’s reality the same as mine? Does he look up to see the same patterns in the sky as I do? Did he murder his wife and his best friend with same intentions I tell you all this? Was Silvia’s reality the same as Tom’s? Where, I ask again, does our reality lie then? Why, then is everyone so concerned about coming back to reality, when none of us even knows where it lies?‿


After catching my breath I looked at her for some sort of reaction. She had a completely blank expression on her face. I doubted she understood or even listened to what I had said. I hated her again.


Suddenly she cried “I’m pregnant Rohan‿, and started raining down a storm of tears on my shirt.


We walked back home in complete silence. A few days later I learnt she had hung herself from the bathroom ceiling. I couldn’t but help feel guilty. As much as I liked to deny it, even to myself, I think I had always been in love with Pinky. When she told me she was pregnant; I couldn’t mutter a word not because I didn’t have any, but because I was hurt. I couldn’t sleep for weeks. My head hurt so bad, I’d be tossing and turning on bed, sleepy as hell, but without being able to sink into the comfortable realm of dreams. After about a month in the solitary confinement of my room, I emerged, and headed to the nearest bar to get myself insanely drunk. I eventually got into a brawl which landed me up in the hospital for a week.


That weird concept called time seemed to be miraculous if nothing else. I had become myself pretty much as I remembered myself to have been like. Her memory still brought cramps to my heart but I had mastered the art of aversion. I’d usually spend my days with my nose buried in books or writing.


I also developed a taste for visiting cremation grounds. I’d sit for hours and watch bodies burst into flame and eventually be reduced to ashes. I never knew so many people died everyday. My feelings about death also changed. I couldn’t but help feel its awesome power over everything. The chapter on those who died would end but the book of life would still go on. Would the book too one day succumb to the prowess of death? Would the universe eventually die too? What would happen after that? What would remain? There must be other universes… there must. There must be something beyond death… if not existence meant nothing. For the fist time I felt for the sheep of our world. The way they went around gathering and guarding all their lives, just to be themselves whisked away by the strong and swift claws of the inevitable.


It was already mid October. I was hoping my allergy would forget to appear this year, but like a punctual guest it settled over me for a few grueling weeks. With a runny nose, stuffed ears, feverish chills and sneezes erupting unexpectedly, life had become extremely difficult to live as one would like to. Reading was almost impossible with out smearing the books with snot. Bones, especially around the joints felt extremely feeble, infant like. Sleep was dominated by dreams of extreme proportions. I for my own reasons of abstinence refrained from taking any drugs. The allergy, punctual as ever, left as suddenly as it arrived. If only all guests were as agreeable.


The room was dark. She had whisked me away from the others saying she needed to talk to me. I sat down opposite to her, swaying to and fro resisting the giddiness of alcohol. I had been drinking since early morning, one beer after another, and it was almost ten in the evening now. All I could make out was the vague outline of her body. I nonetheless felt her huge animated eyes upon me. She lit a cigarette and started:


“I think this is it!‿ There was a pause. “It’s over.‿ She said with what seemed an effort.


I didn’t reply.


“Rohan!‿ she yelped. I had long started to detest the authoritative air she basked in.


“What?‿ said I with a tone of irritation.


“Why do you always have to be like this? I know your theory of words not being able to express everything in the heart… but I need them; the ESP you talk about is not working here. I’m a girl and I need to be told I am loved. I can’t go on like this Rohan, I just can’t.‿


“I am fine with that‿ I replied indifferently. I felt her wrath on my skin, it felt pleasant. I had been meaning to see her pumped with rage for a long time. What did she know of love?


“That’s all?‿ She cried. “Did you even ever love me?‿


“No.‿ I said and kept quiet.


“Oh my God! I’ve been such a fool! All this time!‿ She hurriedly got up and left the room. I let myself collapse on the bed in satisfaction. I had gotten back at her for all that she made me go through. Not that I had really ever loved her. I don’t even know what love is.


I fondly remembered her huge green eyes that twinkled with childlike effulgence. How her full lips perked up in a smile, a smile that communicated affection but looked so fake. Many a times I contemplated on smashing in that beautiful fake face-mask-to see what she really hid behind it.


Her name was Cindy. We had met at a bar and in my drunken state she found me romantic. It was her nineteenth birthday. Like the moon she came into the room, glowing. I had eyed her from a corner hiding behind a bottle of beer. She was beautiful, she looked immaculate; like the moon. Beautiful like the moon in reflected light. Fake like the plastic flowers in my sister’s living room. I approached her and let the alcohol do the talking. The alcohol had its own way; she fell in love (or did she?) with the alcohol in me. I guess I was as fake as she, for I shined in the light of my own choice of sun, alcohol. But alas, the sun set for both of us. We were stripped. Rocky and cold, all we could do was hope the other remembered us of when we shined. I had known early on this couldn’t have lasted. It wasn’t much of a surprise for me when she told me she had enough. I was grateful.


Pinky still occupied that space at the back of my head like a hangover. She seemed more beautiful, now that she was no more. Memories and a handful of pictures were the only evidences of her short existence in this plane. I had developed the habit of staying awake all night, through the wee hours of the morning till eleven. I had become a creature of the night. A nocturnal bohemian rejoicing in the alluring coldness and stillness of the night, yes that’s what I had become. I’d spread myself on the roof and stare at the stars. The patterns were still there beckoning me to solve their ancient riddles. “Pinky must know‿, I’d think. “Why doesn’t she give me a sign?‿ Then suddenly a meteorite would zoom across the black skies. Coincidence? I don’t know.


We called ourselves civilized. Sophisticated weapons and unshakable wrath gauged our civility. Half baked parasites chose to rule the domestic as well as national frontiers. It was an exhibition of putting on ugly faces and uttering powerful words. “Of course I care‿ and then they’d go and scribble a bit, that’s how much they cared. It was disgusting. Maybe enchanting to unsuspecting eyes, but to me, they were naked half baked parasites. Everyone and everything in the universe conspired against the true, “sell yourself or be sold‿.


I wanted to change. Life wasn’t long enough. I wanted to be born again, knowing all that I knew now. Wishful but pitiable, I was. The world was overflowing. Not enough food. War. Disease. Misery. How could have intelligent beings overlook such inevitable consequences, when they started off in their crusade of democracy and modernization? What was to be done? A few long haired frenzies crouching together could not set the world back on track. Evolution was the answer not revolution. “Wake up! Get out there and reach for the stars! Go and live you bloody fools! Why waste this opportunity of existence in trifle pursuits.‿ I wanted to scream. I wanted to scream till everyone’s ears bled and my pathetic cancered lungs burst.


I could smell that woman over the internet. Her desires reached me explicitly in the form of a smell, over the seven seas. I shuddered in revolt and yet felt elated for having someone drool over me, far as she may have been. Maybe she understood me? That’d be interesting. I exercised my new found power over people. I had been deliberately innocent for way to long. It was my turn to pull the strings for once. My moves were rusty, but I had stumbled across a punching bag. I’d practice; train myself so that I could use my techniques to slash through thick undergrowths blocking my path.


“You always bring a smile to my face‿ She’d under the veil of a computer screen.


I’d think for a while and in self induced modesty say something completely bogus.


“Oh but why don’t you say something strange? Say something distressful!‿ she’d say. I could’ve sworn I felt her shudder in sexual anticipation. She must have been one hell of woman to be able to transport her love scent over such a distance..

To that I’d say something suave sending her into complete ecstasy. I never knew words were so powerful. Maybe Cindy was right after all. Maybe I should have expressed myself more. But I hated to say things I didn’t believe in. People however seemed to be ready to bend backwards just to hear what they wanted to. I had never thought of it in that way before. From now on, I could choose to have an upper hand, I wouldn’t have to stoop below my level anymore.


It had started to rain dreadfully. I wrapped myself in some warm fiber and ran over to a bar about fifteen minutes from where I lived. There were puddles everywhere. I accidentally jumped into one every now and then, much to the annoyance of my fellow pedestrians. Some of them even went as far as to curse me. Bloody bastards! They should have stayed home staring at their god damned feet if they hated the rain so much. I sped away looking back at them fools with a sheepish smile and almost got run over by a jeep that had just turned a corner. ‘Looser’ I screamed and ran off again. I entered the dark smoky pub pretty much soaked to the bone. The guy who owned the place came up to me and smiled.


‘Hows it goin Rohan, buddy?’ He had a glass of whiskey in his hands and seemed to be pretty drunk. I always wondered why people started drinking whiskey after getting a job or just running a bar. Though I was unemployed and for sure didn’t own a bar, I tried drinking whiskey just for kicks once. I didn’t at all like it that much. I made up my mind to leave that for the time being until I got a job or owned a bar. I’d stick to beer till then.


‘It’s all good bro’ I said. I had forgotten his name again. I have a hard time remembering anyone’s name. But once I do, I never forget. ‘Looks like you got a pretty good thing goin on in here, huh?’


He puffed up like a proud mother and smiled. ‘Oh it’s okay, not much business’ I looked around. The place was full. ‘Bloody businessmen’ I thought. They always had to act modest for some damn reason even when the facts were so evident. I found it quite amusing. I had once tried doing that as well. It was when someone asked me how I did in my exams to which I put on a pathetic face and said ‘Oh man… I did horrible, I’m gonna fail for sure.’ I ended up failing anyway.


He told one of the waiters to bring me a towel and a glass of whiskey. ‘I’d like a beer actually’ I said.


‘No man! You’re wet, start off with some whiskey, it’ll warm you up’


‘I don’t like whiskey that much, I think I’d rather have a beer’


‘Heck man! I don’t want anyone dying of pneumonia in my pub. Drink the whiskey first, it’ll be on me’


‘This guy is nut’ I thought. I didn’t need him to buy me a glass of bloody whiskey. He sounded like he was helping out a broke drunk. ‘Ok ok!! I’ll take the whiskey, thanks, but I’ll get it myself’ I said with a feigned smile.


‘Rohan bro! This ones on me’ he insisted. I didn’t want to make it a big deal so I relented. The waiter came up. ‘Towel sah’ he said with a bow. I wondered why everyone was treating me like that. I took the towel and dried my hair. ‘Bloody a&&holes’ I thought. ‘They’ll butter me up as long as I preserve my dignity by paying for my drinks. Once I become a desperate drunk they’ll look down at me like a piece of trash and refuse to even give me the time.’ I knew what people of that sort were like. They enjoyed rising by dragging the weak man down. Bloody pricks!


I sat at the bar like I always did, eyeing the various liquors arranged on the wall at the back. Mirrored shelves created an illusion of more bottles than in reality. An old trick almost all bars tried to pull off, and maybe they did for some, I wasn’t one of them. I asked them if they had any Slayer. The bar tender, helpful like hell, handed me a whole collection of cds. I smiled politely and flipped through the collection. I couldn’t believe they had techno shit in there too. I finally found the slayer cd which I handed over to be played. The boom of thrash metal in my ears relaxed me a little bit. ‘Welcome to my world’, I thought sinisterly.


The owner appeared again. Only this time he was with two beautiful girls. ‘Rohan, meet Uma and Layla.’ I smiled at them nervously. For some reason I always became nervous when confronted by beautiful girls especially if I wasn’t completely drunk. The girls looked like sisters. Both had beautiful faces decorated with sharp features under a waterfall of long auburn hair till their waists. Uma had “Nirvana‿ written on her T-shirt. I fell in love with her immediately.


‘So you like Nirvana?’ I asked, avoiding her luscious black eyes.


‘I love them! Pete here was telling me you liked them too’


‘So that’s what his name was, Pete.’ I thought to myself. I was sure as hell I’d never forget his name again. Pete looked at me with a smile. I smiled back.


‘Would ya guys like a seat?’ I asked gesturing towards the empty stools. Uma took a seat beside me while Layla sat next to her in politeness, I presumed. Pete said he had some things to do but would be back later on. He gave me another smile before he left. This time I acted as if I hadn’t noticed. I was getting fed up with his smiles.


Layla stared blankly at the other guests, sipping her yellow drink at almost equal intervals. Uma was facing me and I could feel her warm body next to me. I was still wet and was unintentionally shivering. I tried to keep my hands still but couldn’t. I was worried that I’d touch Uma. From the strain of holding still, half my body felt paralyzed.


‘Oh yer shivering’ she said grabbing my arm. Her hands felt incredibly warm. I blushed and smiled at her in loss of words. ‘Got caught in the rain huh?’ I nodded in affirmation, still at a loss of words. ‘Finish up yer drink then’ she said laughingly, exposing a perfect set of pearl like teeth and pink gums. I downed my drink in one go and felt it spread from the bottom of my stomach to the tip of my ears. I smiled.


‘So what songs do ya like?’ she said.


I looked at the ceiling as if I was thinking for a bit and said, ‘Well I like anything as long as it’s not too commercial. But I prefer rock or metal most of the time.’


She burst out in laughter. ‘What Nirvana songs do you like, I meant?’ she said with anxious eyes.


‘I like all of them’ I replied. ‘Bleach is my favorite album though.’


‘Mine too!’ she exclaimed.


I was at a loss of words again. I did what I was best at; I smiled.


‘Rohan’ she said getting up. I looked at her. ‘I need to go to the bathroom, be right back’


‘Sure’, I said.


She had a perfect body; slim but curvy as anything. My eyes followed her until she disappeared. I discovered mine were not the only eyes to have done that as I saw a number of heads turning. Layla looked at me for a second and smiled timidly. She for sure wasn’t the outgoing one among those two. I felt more comfortable with her. ‘Do you like Nirvana too?’ I asked trying to strike up a conversation.


‘Yes, they’re great’ she answered in almost a whisper. She took a sip of her drink immediately after that and diverted her eyes to some picture hanging on the wall behind the bar. I could tell she felt uncomfortable talking with me. Maybe the same way I felt uncomfortable talking with Uma. Beautiful girls were enough to make me go weak on the knees but beautiful girls with an out going personality made it worse. I empathized with Lalyla and held my peace.


‘Bro! Could you give me a chilled Tuborg?’ I asked the barman. He bowed and brought a chilled bottle and a mug. He was about to pour me the beer but I stopped him. I hated it when people poured me drinks. I had two hands and was perfectly capable of pouring for myself. I expertly poured myself a glass and was about to take a sip when I felt a hand on my shoulders. It was Uma.


‘Silly boy!’ She said. ‘A minute ago you were shivering like a puppy and now yer about to drink that chilled horror?’


I gave a deep laugh, from the back of my throat and in a synergy of new found confidence said ‘Ah! But you’ll be here to keep me warm.’ I grew pale as soon as finished my sentence. I couldn’t believe I just said that.


She gave me a weird look. ‘This is it’ I thought preparing myself for a thrashing. Suddenly she started laughing like crazy. Between her laughter and gasps for breath she managed to say ‘I never thought you would come up with something like that, from the way you were acting earlier. That’s a lot better. Keep it up!’ I joined in on the laughter and I saw Layla smiling too. We controlled ourselves when we noticed that almost everyone in the bar was looking at us in comical amusement. The ice was finally broken and a sense of calm resided over me. I had heard of some guy who had walked up to a girl in a bar and crushed an ice cube with his shoes and said ‘Now that the ice is broken, what do you say we dance?’ I resolved to try that out sometime.


‘So what do you do besides listening to Nirvana?’ she asked me in friendly sarcasm.


‘Well I like to read and I enjoy trying my hand at poetry once in a while’ I replied.


She gave me a warm look and brushed some of her hair away from her eyes. She reminded me of Pinky. They didn’t even look alike, forget about having similar personalities. Pinky was more like Layla, shy and delicate. ‘Like butterfly wings’ I thought. But the act of brushing away one’s hair from the eyes had been fossilized in mind to think it belonged only to Pinky. So there was Pinky’s image in front of me again. I was choked with remorse.


‘What’s the matter Rohan?’ I heard Uma ask.


‘Oh nothing’ I said and smiled, letting Pinky’s memory retreat back to its place at the back of my mind.


‘Wow, so you’re a poet?’ she said. ‘I’ve always wanted a poet for a friend; I think they’re so romantic.’ She looked at me with a twinkle in her eyes.


‘But I’m not a poet’ I protested. ‘I just like to try my hand at writing poetry, not that I’m at all any good at it.’


‘Nevertheless’ she continued, ‘I’m sure you write beautiful poetry, I can see it in your eyes; they have that distant glow that most poets and mystics have. Yer not a mystic are you?’


‘I don’t think so’ I replied and drained my glass only to top it off once more. I noticed that both Uma and Layla had finished their drinks too. ‘Can I buy you girls another drink?’ I asked with honest benevolence.


Uma looked offended. ‘No we’ll get it ourselves, thank you though’ she replied politely.

I realized my mistake and gave them an embarrassed smile. They ordered two flasks of whiskey. ‘Wow, these girls sure can drink’ I thought.


Meanwhile, a chubby little guy had walked up to Layla and they had started to talk. I didn’t think much of it until Layla gave a little shriek to which the little guy walked hurriedly away. Layla was crying, I asked her what was wrong, but she didn’t answer. Uma turned to her and I heard them whispering to each other.


After a while Uma turned to me and as if nothing was wrong explained that the chubby dude had tried to kiss Layla. ‘Oh she’s such a little baby to let something as trifle as that upset her.’


I looked around for that guy. My male ego was most certainly hurt. How could another guy approach a girl in my company and try to kiss her? It was unheard of!


Uma took my hand in hers. ‘Relax Rohan, it’s no big deal.’ But it was! How could she have known how a man felt? It was, a ‘guy thing’, as they’d have put it. She squeezed my hand a little bit, I calmed down.


‘Listen, Layla gets really upset when schite like this happens, she wants to go home.’ She said in a rather remorseful tone. I listened in silence. ‘Here’s my number, give me a call when yer free, aite?’ she said handing me a piece of paper which I pocketed instinctively.


She then asked the waiter for the bill and paid him off. ‘Tell Pete we had to leave, will you darling?’


I nodded, once again at a loss of words with a bump rising inside my throat. ‘Promise me you won’t fight with that little guy Rohan’ she added.


‘I promise’ I said rather taken a back. ‘I wouldn’t have to fight that looser, I’d have just smashed his face in, simple as that.’ I said to myself.


She gave me a peck on the cheek and left. Layla didn’t even say goodbye. My eyes found themselves following her until she disappeared through the door. ‘Loosers’ I thought as I saw the heads turn again.


I was alone again. I turned towards my beer for company but it was empty. I noticed that Uma and Layla had left without even finishing their drinks. I pulled the two flasks towards myself and poured my self a whole flask. I downed it. I poured myself the other flask then. I downed that one too. I felt pretty tipsy. I got to my feet but they felt like they were made of rubber. In a slow wobbly stride I made my way up to the bathroom. I looked at the two doors. One of them had ‘Ladies’ written on it and the other said ‘Gents’ I eyed them both as if I was wondering which one to go into. I quickly went into the one that said ‘Gents’ when I heard a few voices come towards me.
 
Posted on 12-27-06 10:31 PM     Reply [Subscribe]
Login in to Rate this Post:     0       ?    
 

YOu three are super mean! :s
 
Posted on 12-27-06 10:31 PM     Reply [Subscribe]
Login in to Rate this Post:     0       ?    
 

okay wait!!!

i don't have printer at home. so wait until tomorrow for my comment on this. i can't read from a soft copy, OKAY ! :P

LooTe
 
Posted on 12-27-06 10:34 PM     Reply [Subscribe]
Login in to Rate this Post:     0       ?    
 

Right on, Loots! thank you ;)
 
Posted on 12-27-06 10:49 PM     Reply [Subscribe]
Login in to Rate this Post:     0       ?    
 

Kasto Kaam napaune manchee pani hundo rahichha ?
 
Posted on 12-28-06 10:00 AM     Reply [Subscribe]
Login in to Rate this Post:     0       ?    
 

vocabulary superb!!!.....way of expressing gr8!!!......IMO ..the most important thing missin' was the theme that binds it all...and I would characterize this piece as "wayward"!!!! ...but I would still give props to whoever wrote it ....unless ofcourse....its not plagiarized ....a li'l ..here and there!!!!!!
 
Posted on 12-28-06 10:20 AM     Reply [Subscribe]
Login in to Rate this Post:     0       ?    
 

Lemon,
Hamro junkie writer ko halchal ke cha ho?Ajai Kapal kateko chaina hai?Ani any new tattoos?
 
Posted on 12-28-06 10:38 AM     Reply [Subscribe]
Login in to Rate this Post:     0       ?    
 

holy shit i am not eve gonna bother reading that and will just say YES lol
peace
 
Posted on 12-28-06 2:55 PM     Reply [Subscribe]
Login in to Rate this Post:     0       ?    
 

let me take a break .. !
 
Posted on 12-28-06 3:33 PM     Reply [Subscribe]
Login in to Rate this Post:     0       ?    
 

Lemon - you are right!! :)
dang, who wrote that?? :D
 
Posted on 12-28-06 8:48 PM     Reply [Subscribe]
Login in to Rate this Post:     0       ?    
 

.
I admit this evening , i got so much time to read this all.

My feedback:
The story turns out to be so well written at first. "The Intellectual Frankenstein" so convinced me. And then i skipped some little parts(sentences) in the middle, when things were just drifting away from what the author wanted to portray. I am oblivious too if it really is a story or a reality. Things happen to us the way we perceive. well written!!!
 
Posted on 12-28-06 11:35 PM     Reply [Subscribe]
Login in to Rate this Post:     0       ?    
 

where is the time to read this crap.
 


Please Log in! to be able to reply! If you don't have a login, please register here.

YOU CAN ALSO



IN ORDER TO POST!




Within last 60 days
Recommended Popular Threads Controvertial Threads
TPS Re-registration case still pending ..
Toilet paper or water?
and it begins - on Day 1 Trump will begin operations to deport millions of undocumented immigrants
Tourist Visa - Seeking Suggestions and Guidance
From Trump “I will revoke TPS, and deport them back to their country.”
advanced parole
ढ्याउ गर्दा दसैँको खसी गनाउच
To Sajha admin
MAGA denaturalization proposal!!
How to Retrieve a Copy of Domestic Violence Complaint???
wanna be ruled by stupid or an Idiot ?
All the Qatar ailines from Nepal canceled to USA
Travel Document for TPS (approved)
NOTE: The opinions here represent the opinions of the individual posters, and not of Sajha.com. It is not possible for sajha.com to monitor all the postings, since sajha.com merely seeks to provide a cyber location for discussing ideas and concerns related to Nepal and the Nepalis. Please send an email to admin@sajha.com using a valid email address if you want any posting to be considered for deletion. Your request will be handled on a one to one basis. Sajha.com is a service please don't abuse it. - Thanks.

Sajha.com Privacy Policy

Like us in Facebook!

↑ Back to Top
free counters