thesocratespot: LXIV Metallica

thesocratespot: LXIV Metallica: LXIV – Metallica Annie had vowed to stay away from alcohol, drugs and smoke, she was touring Africa along with an old migrant Masai ...

thesocratespot: LXIII - Annie Steps out

thesocratespot: LXIII - Annie Steps out: LXIII Annie Steps out She was thrown out of Harvard, well almost, Prof. Bernstein had to go all out to convince every conceivable de...

thesocratespot: allegiance 1.0

thesocratespot: allegiance 1.0: Allegiance The problem with any culture is the problem of its control on its followers, believers and morons -  The question is ...

LXIV Metallica

LXIV – Metallica

Annie had vowed to stay away from alcohol, drugs and smoke, she was touring Africa along with an old migrant Masai Warrior whom she met when she was addressing a seminar in South Africa, despite all her resistance to things worldly, she was besotted – the Masai warrior was huge, dark as charcoal and she found his name difficult to pronounce.

But her love for him was a combination  of lust , savagery and an energy that sometimes unnerved even the mighty Masai. 

Annie’s new beau looked a supremely confident human, his walk, talk, smile, laugh, gait , look and certain centuries old convictions seemed to suggest that the Masai culture had the answer to all human  ills.

Annie wasn’t convinced but yet found strong attraction – She wasn’t sure if it was the Masai warrior or the Masai culture or both .

She had dyed her hair red, with her frontal portion – on the forehead side - shaved a bit to extend her facial horizon giving her a look of a half monk - she had a head band made of sheep wool, columns of black and red wool with white beaded border strung around her hair which was gathered into a plait, her eyes had thick mascara, eyebrows were blackened, she had shiny, golden, silverware metal rings hanging out from her ears, nose & lips. 

Thankfully, some part of Annie’s attire remained contemporary, She had a very light muddy brown , loose and flying, Thai Kurta cotton top with sleeves running to her shapely elbow that had light frills at the shoulders and a deep breast cut that gave a tantalising look into her bosom, which wasx held by a very thin , cotton, bra – hardly hiding, in fact more revealing.

She had silver bangles running across her arm, tattoos across her body, depicting Hinduism, islam, jesus, hizbollah, hosannah, Hebrew and whatever one could think of – she was inked, from her arms, neck, belly, tongue and vagina.

She wore shiny silver ankles that enhanced a dark African tulip red and black sarong .

A sling cotton bag, that had her laptop, her books , some basic tools – a Mac ( a Canon 250 D Camera permanently hanging from her neck) her ipod with earphones a blackberry and an Samsung mobile phone completing her personal wardrobe.    

Annie also had her face painted.

She was so petite and lean despite all the metal and paint and tattoo Annie still looked weak and alien.

Annie was so consumed with her Masai mind , she raped her African Masai warrior husband the first day they were married. 

And she was pregnant the next day. 

LXIII - Annie Steps out

LXIII

Annie Steps out

She was thrown out of Harvard, well almost, Prof. Bernstein had to go all out to convince every conceivable dean, committee Director et al., to simply shut up – Annie was a prize human and he said he was convinced she needed her space – she was not the type to simply join Harvard, graduate and then go on to build a Million Dollar Career – She was a Thinker, Philosopher, Questioner, Critic – frustrated, despondent and bored of being told the same old thing .

Again, Again, Again   - She wanted to break free.

Not for her own self.

She wanted to build a new idea of Life.

New Life.

A Life that would suit the new contemporary human.

A life free of the archaic and the old.

A life free of confirmations. 

Free of allegiance.  

allegiance 1.0

Allegiance

The problem with any culture is the problem of its control on its followers, believers and morons - 

The question is

What builds you ?

What builds

your personality ?

what feeds

you ?

what feeds

your ego ?

and how

do all those feeds , like

Culture

Religion

Faith

belief

tradition

deprivals, surfeit,

envy, jealousy

greed, wanna be

decide ,

your life ?

YOUR LIFE . ?

Allegiance.

thesocratespot: Its been a long hiatus - surrealism, unrealism , u...

thesocratespot: Its been a long hiatus - surrealism, unrealism , u...: It was raining. But quietly raining. Past the window one could feel the ocean was on a mild rage, the sky was light grey, there was a se...

Its been a long hiatus - surrealism, unrealism , untruth and Danny's Graceland

It was raining. But quietly raining. Past the window one could feel the ocean was on a mild rage, the sky was light grey, there was a sense of mild mist and moisture around but the wind was still blowing hard, the sparse trees around were all bending around to the will and wish of nature - the wind they blew created soft, muffled, whistles inside the room - like the wind after a cyclone -the curtains were heavy but yet they were trying to free and tear out, it was day light, but the world was back , taking out their first few steps, walking out dripping wet, torn umbrellas, shattered rain cots, shrunk bodies - battered yet gladly alive, walking out of a new crisis. 

The black asphalt road looked awash, water was gushing all around, the footpaths were deserted - the world looked 'just born'.  

Danny. 

Danny was crouched - back to the wall - head lolled on one side.  Eyes were shut. The LED's on the music system looked more like stable ECG graph's playing along with Danny's calm but deep breathing. 

Danny's mind was numb, yet he felt he was in a deep, dark pit - was it a movie theater ? he could see there were a lot people? - he cringed and crouched he hated crowds, he felt crowds always judged him and he hated judgments - and as he kept cringing and crouching and hiding, he slipped on a backward spiral and he kept falling, hands waving, mouth open, eyes facing the sky - Danny wondered, was he floating or falling or flying ? 

And where was his mind ? Even at this juncture it was lost in thought. What about the all famous survival instinct ? such a fascinating thought. 

If I were ever asked ,ever that is , the 2 things that have always fascinated me , then I would without hesitation tell you this, that the choice would zeroe in somewhere between ‘Annie and then the Underworld’ – I am not too sure which came first , between Annie and the Underworld, and, if my memory serves me right their entry was synchronous, accidentally synchronous – but for the sake of a place to start, lets say it was indeed  the “Underworld” that was the first to grab my all round fascination;  

It all started when I , as a kid in school dropped a piece of chalk , I distinctly remember,  given by my malignant tumor stricken mother – She gave me the slim, white , hard chalk, held it out like a candy and took reasonable pains to make me realize that it was meant to write and along with the tall white chalk she, my mother, also directed me to a small square shaped black ,cracked in the middle, but eminently portable writing implement made of thin graphite;

This ubiquitous writing support implement was a staple object that we carried everyday to our school, and I remembr, it had a withering wooden frame to hold the square graphite stone in place - made of some horribly soft, cheap, easily ‘chippable’ wood- I think we used to call it call it a ‘slate’ then , no idea why – and this ‘slate’ kept losing a good dose of its wooden frame in the form of thin, needle like, sharp bits of wood ( ‘am not too sure if I bit them off ‘coz I know I used chew on my chalk ! So maybe i did the same with the wooden frame of my slate too ) and these sharp wooden bits , most probably chewed by a malnourished forever hungry infant, sometimes pricked my tender hands – and every time it happened many in my class almost brought the house down screaming .

I remember one day when I was shocked to bits by a scream so crazy that I almost pissed into my hands! It was when I was busy comparing my microscopic penis size with another bench mate ( oh it was such a common sport amongst us , then)  and suddenly scream almost pushed a few drops of that salt juice into my hands .

Before I knew it, I, was soon furiously experimenting with the slate and chalk, I put to work all my undernourished energies and often found to my chagrin that the chalk was equally under nourished , it just kept breaking every time , often even before I could complete figuring out a simple ‘A’ on my black slate, I used to express my frustration on the chalk by biting it – often I found I actually liked the taste . 

But friends let me confess it was that same weak piece of chalk that – that broke every time a child getting initiated into alphabet creation pressed forward an alphabetical shape - was instrumental in getting me initiated into the great underworld, yeah the same chalk , that also helped boys& girls of my tender age learn figuring out the shape of the first basic alphabets that constructed human conversation, became the genie that magically drew me to the nether world.  

It was the same chalk that pulled me down and changed my life forever.

The accident occurred one day when during school I bent down to pick up a broken piece of chalk that snapped ,as usual in the not so middle, and in 2 parts fell down , and promptly disintegrated into more pieces;

As is human , I quickly bent my head just below my bench and looked around only to realize that the pieces of precious broken chalk were spread all around , determined to find my broken pieces of chalk, I slid down completely, and began my earnest efforts to collect as many of the broken chalk pieces as I could, so there I was crouched below my rickety old school bench , crawling on my all fours, picking up pieces of chalk – lying scattered under our creaky school benches - 

– that’s was when it happened;

I was just boringly scanning around, looking for my chalk, I saw , for the first time ever, a set of visual paraphernalia that completely took me and my attention with an unexpected sense of awe – What I saw, soon mesmerized me, it took me into a world I had never before imagined, In fact I also had this strange gut feel that what I was about to see was not something that I was meant see – my eyes were set by the stark beautiful reality of the underworld , my first ever encounter with them was so pleasant , so much more interesting than the upper world I was being violently forced to acquaint – so it was that the early sense of the underworld entered into my conscious mind -  and oh what a sight it was ;

  

As I bent down, I couldn’t help my eyes from roaming, panning the whole world beneath- below the world of antique timber benches that resembled a strange kind of wooden horse capable of moving back and forth but never capable of running- our great wood and concrete classroom that our teachers loved beyond their imagination to address, often most violently, stood rigid , while I hardly symapthised with my fellow living members of my class.

I definitely sympathized and pitied the poor wooden benches of my class room - they really took a lot of brunts and grunts and an awful lot more from us – but they , the benches, in their own dumb way, lived in a world all their own and I realized it as I bent down to pick my broken chalk – in fact I realised they secretly hid , beneath their top, a world shockingly different, astonishingly exciting , it was then , as I bent down , that I saw a whole new world that existed beneath – the fabulous , the grand , the awesome underworld – full of a huge set of small, differently sized, dangling ‘legs’ almost all of them doing some form of movement or the other .  

The next to catch my attention was a little more horrifying , beneath the benches we parked ourselves on was also home to an army of ants! Small, red and menacing, ants!

I remembered it had once crawled up my leg and found the traces of sugar water on my most private sector irresistible , it had bit me on my penis and quickly escaped , while I hardly realized its mischief I soon had more than one reason to regret the mishap - my little penis soon swelled like a 1000 watt Edison bulb – that seemed to endlessly amuse a whole world around me – from many of my teachers, my companions in class and outside and later on at home - they shamelessly fondled my tool like it was a mere tailors bobbin ,while I writhed and swore;

As I remembered the incident I quickly focussed my view onto one special member of my old tormentor with a sudden rage , it was relentlessly roaming, as if nothing had really happened , I knew it had realized its guilt and was trying its best to avoid me , oh it was also trying its best to show it was really busy, trying its best to put away my raging attention on it – not the one to be fooled by such not so sophisticated pantomime - I just had to draw a fraction of my anaemic strength , aim with closed eyes and then I did it – I killed it , without remorse , in fact I silently celebrated – invented my first known victory cry in my head !

And then I turned around to do what I originally sunk down to do – collect back my broken chalk pieces - hardly realising that I was about to witness another event that would have a far more profound, far more too shape my life forever.

I turned my little head and was pleasantly awed by the sight of several little beautiful legs that were dangling, oh the sight of different shoes , different colored socks, and the vaguely exciting look of lovely ‘Annie’ who was also slumped underneath, sobbing like there was no tomorrow, her nano second pause to smile at me and then within a split second going back to her chore , and yes the most exciting sight of course was the color of those myriad different underwears of my classmates – ok technically think that I was briefly a front bencher – especially the underwears of the most beautiful girls in my life – man were they juicy , of course some were wet and clumsy , all the same they were the most awesome bit of knowledge I preferred to ooze in , than the torture that was the class up above me, in that fraction of the second I quickly turned to check the color of my teacher’s panties , hehehehe it was one dark black, she was an Anglo Indian, actually pretty cute , she tried hard to hate us , tried equally hard to teach us, but imagine teaching morons like me who preferred the underworld. 

It was then I heard a war cry , distinctly addressing my name , as I reluctantly scrambled away from a truly wonderful world of visual delight , I was once again startled from my reverie , one more sharp shout , and, I  was all attention ;

I was up , small, tiny , head still lolling like a broken doll, legs unsteady, eyes wide shut, ears red, nose leaking , almost on the verge of a major nervous break down , facing my pretty black pantied teacher, She was right next to my bench , I realized she was exploiting an unfair advantage , I hardly came upto her belly button, her cheap oil and perfume made me shrink and she ? She was sure she had found her victim of the moment – I knew She knew , that She was on that fateful day wearing a black panty, so I looked at her and gave a wink and a smile , that only seemed to make her more worked up – which I really loved - ok Mr. Moron she tried to bark , stand up like a man and answer me , what were you doing down there ?

I was shocked beyond wits , how could she ask me to be so frank about it? Why didn’t she understand , that people don’t talk generally about the underworld, and, here she was demanding a forthright future yellow journalist a report of what he saw, extempore – As I was about to reflect on how to frame my unabridged report , came one stinging blow from her hand , I knew I was caught , I knew She knew that I knew that her black panty was red in patches , and some part of it was were torn , and that I not only had a report of her undies 

I had quickly and efficiently gathered information about all the other undies in my class , especially the girlie undies ( I seriously did not notice a single male undie) while one part of me wanted to burst out in laughter the other part of me was hurt, soon the dam broke , I broke down, and the weight made me slump back to my underworld and to my delight found Annie, she was still around and still sobbing and she was oh so glad that I had taken so much trouble , faced so many hardships only to join her in her sobbing company , we both smiled , briefly, and we both cried like there was no tomorrow.       

From that day on Me & Annie became inseparable, sometimes friends , sometimes foes , often laughing and blabbering a whole load intellectual bull shit, that both forgot the next moment, we shrieked together, we screamed , generally let our hairs down, always fondled our underworld together and slowly made other similar friends get initiated into our secret underworld .

While we hated each other, we also loved each other, every time we split swearing never to ever even mention each others name , we returned being friends stronger than ever, even long after we spread our underworld wings , when we hardly met, we somehow remained almost always connected - even when her alcoholic father raped her , I knew , we had a very unique way of understanding the acts of the underworld .   

     The acts of the underworld had only 2 worlds it was either hither or thither , they said – but for those who have been initiated into the underworld by a natural process of life , the ways of the underworld isn’t as different as the real world , except that they have a lot more elements , things that you would rather ignore , things that you’ve told to ignore, the underworld is made of things you wished did not exist, things that you closed your eyes to , but they were nevertheless things that you knew were embarrassingly close to your day to day, minute to minute life, but yet you chose to ignore everytime they stalked your life , every time you yourself thanked that they existed , since you and so many of us used them , searched them, cursed them , but endured them.

In fact for people like Me & Annie , who have virtually come to define the underworld today – we know it , like it really is, the underworld is probably more real than the real world.

The real world is really no real world.  

Annie knew too much , very early too, I was among the only one’s She managed to laugh, really really laugh, I was also the only one to whom She stifled her tears and yet just hung her head and silently sobbed , muffled , silenced outpours – rare – but when they had to come , it was like the hiss of a waterless plumbing system , letting out air , in an expectant rush , even making some gurgle like sounds , like almost an ominous flood but soon finding there was nothing else really.

Annie really did not care about the outpours, she in fact hated it, She hated every kind of weakness, She was neither the typical patriarchical single girl brat nor the typical feminist rebel, She was what you would call a typical whore – young , but, truly immersed in the powers of being a young whore.

You know what I mean .

She lost her virginity even before she lost her puberty, and, that was , she said, thanks to her father , and later she virtually had a whole load of men , boys, cousins, teachers, uncles, priests, servants , strangers even aunties and a select set of girls doing it with her – and she joyfully gave in every time.

How many of those instances that she gave in was with pleasure , how many was under duress, and how many were blatant rapes hardly , really mattered to her.

 And to me too . I loved the fact she was a whore , I really admired the fact , in fact many a times , I had passed on information passed on by some of my senior clas mates that they wanted to have sex with her and if I recommended she would be more than willing to go and give them what ever they wanted.

That did not please me , but I did pass on the message all the same.

We were 13 then.

Annie was so much like most other girls, her laugh, her chatter, her shrieks, her screams and her wide eyed wonders smoothly blended her with her ilk , but, Annie could suddenly loose all interest in her surroundings, she was capable of suddenly going cold and under the bench – that’s when they gave it to her, that’s when she was such an easy game.

While Annie was briskly shaping her career into a super whore, I was not far behind , from my world under the bench, I soon made friends of my ilk, we loved measuring our penis and roared when it grew stiff, our everyday battle to rush out during recess and play who pisses farest often ended up with violent disputes,  so violent , most of us except Harry , would sit wiping our bleeding noses and bruised elbows – result of a free for all.

Harry , was left alone ,since Harry was born blind.      

 And Harry was a irritating philosopher – just when you dread he wouldn’t talk , you can be rest assured he’ll. 

Danny ? Danny ? 

Annie ? Annie ? 

Voices Voices voices voices 

You there ? 

No

But were they sirens ? oh not again ? 

Was it Ambulance ? or the Police ? or both ? 

Danny held onto the exhaust fan wings - it was a giant size one. And it kept trying all it can to unshackle him. That's when he felt Annie touching him. 

Annie. 

Danny. 

You think we are dead ?