thesocratespot: thesocratespot: The Art of Story Telling - Part 5 ...

thesocratespot: thesocratespot: The Art of Story Telling - Part 5 ...: thesocratespot: The Art of Story Telling - Part 5 : Two Mad Cynics... : The Story Teller (s) - Part 5 Listen frankly, I really regret I ...

thesocratespot: The Art of Story Telling - Part 5 : Two Mad Cynics...

thesocratespot: The Art of Story Telling - Part 5 : Two Mad Cynics...: The Story Teller (s) - Part 5 Listen frankly, I really regret I started this Bcoz, ever since I chanced upon on Oliver I thought h...

The Art of Story Telling - Part 5 : Two Mad Cynics

The Story Teller (s) - Part 5

Listen frankly, I really regret I started this

Bcoz, ever since I chanced upon on Oliver

I thought he kept creating chances for us to meet !

And he blamed me for creating those chances !

In short he thought,

I was creating our so called ‘chance’ meetings

And I thought it was he who was somehow creating situations

to force me into ‘chance’ meetings with him

This entire game of “chance”

Was getting onto my nerves !

But then

The audience ?

They were enjoying it

They were even applauding

Our ‘chance’ meetings and our chance debates

We were getting popular

It was like a Lucifer and God debate

The only problem was we both kept

Exchanging roles

If sometimes he was Lucifer and I was playing God

The situation soon changed

Where he was God and I was the condemned Lucifer

Believe me

it was crazy 

Because both of knew

It was but a zero sum game

We  both were mortal

We both had the death sentence written down 

Even before our death          

Why death ?

Even our chance encounters, we suspected were all planned

Was anyone else out there ? pushing us towards each other ? 

Oliver looked at me & I did likewise 

We both got back to our comic strips 

He was busy drawing comic strips for Lee Falk 

I was busy drawing comic strips for Edgar Rice Burroughs 

We could hear thunder 

a storm was brewing 

The Story Teller (s) - Part 6

The nature outside was at its wildest, it was a tropical typhoon. The monsoon rains were pouring, the skies were flooding, it was torrential downpour, the clouds collided and thundered, unleashing murderous, villainous flash lightening backed with big divine nuclear bomb like sounds that almost signalled apocalyse the dystopic ambience was completed with strong circular winds bending down even huge banyan trees to their trunks ( with many trees giving up and getting uprooted or loosing major branches to the natural fury) - despite the severity some village folks were still caught outside scurrying, scampering to reach their destination even as their umbrellas were getting virtually whipped out of their hands by the sheer vengeance of the collective force of nature.

 While the village folk feared the worst, Mr. Twist & the other Mr. were totally composed, calm ( as seasoned chess players ), engrossed & coldly playing russian chess - as they mulled how they could destroy the other . 

thesocratespot: The art of story telling :) - introducing a new se...

thesocratespot: The art of story telling :) - introducing a new se...: The art of Story telling – A non essay Part 1 For a person who writes stories, stories can come and go in a flash. Often the story wr...

The art of story telling :) - introducing a new series :)

The art of Story telling – A non essay

Part 1

For a person who writes stories, stories can come and go in a flash. Often the story writer runs after those one’s that come and go in a flash ignoring the one’s that he’s already writing or some new one’s that strike his ever so imaginative mind.

This story too is about one story writer, not anyone famous or talented but someone who thinks or imagines he’s one.

Well, he’s just another one of those story tellers whom you find across every nook and corner of our planet – they simply exist, and yes they also suffer from their own sense of being quirky, crazy and also being absolutely weird, so much so that many from the normal world – from that Myers Briggs TI world – one would easily declare them as you know ? weird & batty !

hahaha ... 

Talking about being batty, I must confess this story teller I’m referring to does have that side in him that would surely certify him on the extreme side of the Myers Briggs TI world’s description of being really, really neurotic – let me explain, for one this story teller calls himself ‘Oliver’ and when probed further he says his full name is Oliver Wild Twist and that he was born as a part of the team who were led by Tarzan of the Apes in the deep Jungles of Africa and later fought along with Phantom the ghost who walks and even had supporting roles helping out Mandrake & Tintin !!

Now Come on ! If That’s not batty , what’s ??

But, to be honest the guy had his alibis, as proof that he was indeed a part of the Tarzan team or that he had partnered with Phantom or Tintin ( all of which I found pretty genuine I must say).

Sorry, let me explain, for instance every time anyone used to ask Oliver Wild Twist to show them proof of his story, proof of his alliance ( but for a better word ) with Tarzan & Phantom and Tintin, he would quietly walk to a huge wooden wardrobe that occupied his entire drawing room ( he was very secretive about his living room, not many got access to that ), work his way around many journals that looked more like some very carefully preserved almanacs full with leather covers and gold embossed titles and then carefully picked one big leather bound book as if it were a piece of precious diamond, he would gingerly bring it down without missing the page he had selected and with a sense of élan show his proof, point his shaky fingers towards a series of pages from old comic books ( that was what the leather bound almanacs contained ) , his fingers would point to strips within the comic story where he was featured as a part of some very intensive scenes where he was either holding a Spear or a knife or a gun etc., along with the protagonist of the Comic be it Tarzan or Phantom or Mandrake or even Tintin , most of the children who were gathered would nod in agreement acknowledging the fact that the image they saw resembled the Oliver they knew but the problem was most of the time Oliver's image almost always showed him as a part of a crowd, way behind the scenes, way, way behind ! 

Nevertheless, almost anyone who saw the comic strip would immediately agree that the guy whose figure was seen way behind the comic strip ( almost lost in a crowd ) was indeed the guy they were talking to !!

And once Oliver convinced them, that he was indeed a man who was once featured as a part of the team that created characters like Tarzan, Phantom & Tintin, once he knew he had arrested the attention of his audience he would go onto tell a story, a story as batty as his biography. 

Oliver always started his stories by first invoking his relationship with God the creator, and that too was as batty as his other traits ( please excuse the frequent use of the word will try and control it henceforth, sorry ).  As mentioned above Oliver always started his story telling process by first establishing his idea of God and himslef , he used to always say that he never believed in God and then went on to say that "if" God existed,  then they existed only in the scheme of an idea called ‘Chance’ and to him Chance meant something new, something creative, something that surprises people and so to that existent Oliver used to explain that since he believed that ‘Chance’ existed then there was a chance that god ‘maybe’ existed ! ( weird right ?).

Story Teller – Part 2

But hang on, Oliver also had another theory – and that was about “Creative beings” , and every time he used the two words in tandem, Chance & God or vice versa , he suddenly turned even more mysterious and seemed to sort of getting lost into a state of trance ! With moon in his eyes and a tone resembling some kind of a prophet he would say “the creator is never emotional about creations, never, the creator keeps creating and creating and creating ( the tone keeps lowering as he repeats the words ) and once something is “created” then that “Creation takes a form or stays formless ” but for the Creator it doesn't really matter ! Whether a creation takes on a form or a shape or stays formless No Matter !

He would shout, as all the kids watched him amused, he would raise his voice to a near crescendo -  The “ Creation has to take care of “Itself” the Creator doesn't Care, the Creator just doesn't care !!

I’m THE CREATOR BUT I NEVER LOOK BACK !

IF I HAVE CREATED , I HAVE LEFT IT BEHIND ! LET IT BE ! Let it be! Let it be !

I DON’T KNOW WHAT I CREATED ! I DON’T CARE WHAT I CREATED !

IF IT LIVES , IT DOES !

IF IT DIES

IT WILL COME BACK TO ME !           

ONLY ME !!

The Story teller (s) – part 3

Once Oliver finished his chant, he would look around for effect, usually his audience would be neighborhood children and other good for nothings, jobless or people who were equally out of their “minds” – so invariably, he would be satisfied he had a very receptive, obedient and more or less awe struck audience, until one day when I accidentally walked into his sermon.

Listen, I was a rogue, a narcissist and an atheist romancing with Communism. Though born as elite, I became attracted to the scum and scruff and believed that I was born to emancipate the world, especially the one’s who were attracted to the likes of OLIVER WILD TWIST’s, I had this notion that I was born to emancipate the naive , the poor, the innocent and those good for nothings from being entranced by the likes of Oliver Wild Twists, I thought I was born to help these hapless from becoming equally batty !

That was my singular mission ! So don't be surprised as to how I ended up entering Oliver's story land - I got drawn like a bat to bat land. 

But then, the biggest problem was , the other society around me including my family, my friends, my mates or even my teachers and gurus thought I was a bit weird too ! That was a crazy situation ! I knew I was not like Oliver Wild Twist but I also knew I had some strange traits, like for instance I always enjoyed the company of people who were weird and batty, I was always late to sleep and very late to rise, was never interested in school or education, very poor at math, poor , poor, poor in almost everything I did, so it was natural that I was hounded, scolded, cursed and condemned for not being bright as was expected – but, hello ? I was not like the Wild Oliver Twist either !

So it just happened one day I walked into Oliver's story land and he immediately seemed to sense that I was a misfit in his world, despite all my efforts to sincerely win his confidence, somehow Oliver was convinced I had subversive intentions ! That’s when our enmity started !   

Oliver Wild Twist knew my social problem ! Because he was from my village, from my ilk !

I had to prove to the world, I was not Oliver Wild Twist !

And Wild Oliver knew that if he could ridicule me, his kind of craziness would find legitimacy !

So that started off a kind of rivalry between the two of us and eventually pulled in even the people who flocked around him, since he became fond of making fun to entertain his audience with several jokes on me, while I would walk in and blow hot and cold on him for his debauchery right in the middle of his sermons - Oliver would simply continue, undeterred.  

Over a period of time we soon found that we could feed on each others quirkiness and that we were after all ‘Brothers in arms ‘ !! And so one day we met again by chance at a bar ! 

The earth changed direction after that.

The Story Teller (s) – part 4      

We were in a bar

Getting drunk

So who do you think you are ?

The bar was noisy

And somebody by chance laughed out loud

Oliver said

Who’s laughing ?

I said

I’m

Hahaha    

                          

   

thesocratespot: Ideals vs Politics –a non essay At ground zero – ...

thesocratespot:
Ideals vs Politics –a non essay At ground zero – ...: Ideals vs Politics – a non essay At ground zero – We humans can accept that there are no ideals, no ethics, no dharma, karma or fear of...

Ideals vs Politics – a non essay

At ground zero – We humans can accept that there are no ideals, no ethics, no dharma, karma or fear of divine retribution and all of those corollaries, what exists today is “only politics, and supremacy of politics and political will power.

I’m not referring Nietzsche

While ideals deal with sublimating humans. Politics deals with subversion, servility and an absolute disregard for humanity.   

I’m not referring to Machiavelli

What that means is that except ‘politics’ rest all are inferior – be it God, religion, ethics, civility, virtue, goodness, kindness and all such traits that builds a good civilized society, what that also means is that we as humans, collectively have willingly given up on our ideals.

I’m not referring to Lucifer

But what’s an ideal ? And what’s politics ?

Who rules or controls what ? Who controls ideals ?

Who controls politics ? Who rules ideals ?

Who rules politics ?

I’m not referring to Caesar

There’s no denying the fact that politics has pushed us back, really, really back

Politics has made sure that we are always in debt , always

What they give is what we get

What they take is what we have to give

We have to

What if I say , I don’t want to give ?

Bcoz , I do not understand your politics ? Your laws ? Your ideals ?

What if there are conflict of ideals ? does it matter ?

WHAT iF THE Nationalism you are propagating isn’t what I think is ideal ?

Listen, I’m no Plato or Socrates or Valmiki    

Nor am I

I

But I’m also political