XVII Smoke rings

Danny dozed off on the deck chair . A warm sun light was on him baking him orange. He was reading Pamuk that lay spread legged on his chest. Annie walked in taking efforts not to make a sound when she found Danny dozing, She knew Danny slept light and could wake up at the slightest sound, so she moved away and let him continue and walked towards another chair close by and decided to wait until Dan woke up. 

Meanwhile Annie thought she could catch up with her presentation on ‘Contemporary Philosophy and Neo Phenomenology’ which she had to get ready for Bernstein in the next 2 days. Prof. Bernstein and Annie were to travel to Oxford soon for a seminar. So she opened her mac and went about her work. People who might have watched Annie then would have probably seen a sleek, petit looking brown girl not more than 26, pretty to look at around 5’5” probably in her sophomore years, but in actuality Annie was going on 30 and moving into a potential motherhood. The other deceptive part of anyone looking at Annie would be a reading of her personality for all who cared to look at her would have thought her to be good, light hearted, out for fun , friendly kind of a person, while she could be all that, she could also be a fireball, oh! Yes! She could shred anyone into pieces if she wanted to.

Danny woke up soon, would have maybe slept for an hour or so, the baking sun had made sure he woke with a moderate sweat, as he tried shading his eyes from the sun he noticed Annie and smiled at her and said Hi ! Annie looked up from her work and returned the greetings Hey! I almost thought you will be out for another few hours at least and trailed off to look back at her mac. Dan stood up without noticing the book on his chest and dropped it but did not bother to pick it up and instead stretched a bit, just then Annie asked ‘ Dan, can you smoke here? Dan made a negative sign and then gestured to her drawing her attention to a board that gave direction to the smokers park , a simple open arena under old oak wood trees and manicured plants and several wooden park benches pretty idealistic for a de-addiction rehab. Annie, got the message and quickly shut her mac and asked without actually asking if she could leave the mac on the chair Dan nodded and then they started walking with a familiarity that can only come between two old friends, they were easy, playful, light and pretty happy in each others company.

As they passed through the neat corridor of the rehab Danny noticed there was absolutely no soul to be seen and that always seemed so every time he landed, at the rehab, he almost felt the rehab was some kinda of an unofficial home left to him through some dubious uncle and he was the only occupant. Of Course such fallacies were short lived once the rehab managers called for a group therapy session and suddenly you found face to face with quite of a few co inhabitants, many looking as if they had just returned from some near death experience. 

Danny also noticed how much American buildings used wood, wood on the panel, wood on the roof, wood on the floor, wooden furniture, doors, windows it was wood everywhere Dan thought America probably used more wood than they used steel. As they walked Dan and Annie made long shadows that seemed to be chasing them trying to catch up but always falling short.

Annie broke in through his thoughts she said in a plain matter of fact tone without looking at him for any effect ‘ I’ve broken up with Richard, we’ve decided to go our separate ways’, Dan did not say anything, just kept walking, Richard and Annie were living in partners, they were together for now about 6 months and were intending to marry soon, Dan knew she had also tested positive a few days ago. Richard was Assistant Professor at the Department of Quantum Physics at Harvard. They had met during one of her seminars on "the nature of symmetry in nature and how the laws of physics worked in shaping things on the planet" it was a research paper not directly related to Annie's subject of specialisation but yet Annie had approached the seminar lead Richard and he had consented to allow her a presentation once she showed him what she had. 

At the end of the seminar Annie had won quite a few admirers for her insight and as it turned out Annie and Richard hit it off quite well, Annie revered Physicists she always thought they knew more about the Universe than any other living humans, and soon the two started living together Richard was from New York but since the relationship started had moved into Annie's pad but now Danny felt that that chapter in Annie's life was over or at least so it seemed for now.

By then they had reached the Smoker park area inside the rehab and Dan sat on a bench, Annie decided to stand, she flicked open her cigarette pack, lit one with her zipper light pushed the lighter back onto her jeans inhaled deep and exhaled, while trying to kick some dry leaves around she asked Dan ‘So when are you out?’ Dan said that he just had 1 more day to go but then he also had a 10 day community service to complete. Annie, did not seem too keen to know any further details, she said ‘ I need your help I want to take away the seed inside before its too late’ again this was said with natural ease without much feelings or remorse, Dan nodded and said they could plan it the day after his release.

Annie stayed back and watched a movie with Dan, a Woody Allen film, somewhere in between She received a call and then she was off, giving Dan a quick, light hug indicating he needn't get up slipped a word reminding him to call her once he was out. 

At the rehab the bell rang - it was group therapy time. Dan was in no mood to join. Somewhere Danny heard someone singing 'hey Jude'.

XIV The Good life

He was back at the rehab. In a way he was glad, rehabs are great places to go to once a while. You’re back to being treated like you were at School. Bobby gave the slip, smart that he was, he knew it the moment he saw the blue lights hitting out at us from a distance must be probably heading towards the Mojave, that’s what he said he was planning. He had also said he might try testing death sometime soon at Sierra Leone where his marines where to infiltrate two rebel factions and trigger a fresh bout of civil war, someone did not want peace in Sierra Leone.

“Convictions are more dangerous enemies of truth than lies” Nietzsche had once said, Dan often wondered how they managed this, these Nietzsches, Sartres, Descartes and et al squeezing something profound everytime they rent the air with their voice, his other favourite quote was by a contemporary Physicist Frederik Kerling “ Perhaps we even need to look behind consciousness itself, to find what is the foundation of reality” this one blew Dan out because this study of Annie’s life along with Dans' and others is exactly that, a sustained , relentless,  attempt to scourge beyond the consciousness, not just the here and the now but something deeper beyond even conscious past for those dark bits and pieces like the carbon in your chillum hidden somewhere, someplace that make us what we make of the world around us.

How we act, react , reply, respond – how we perceive ourselves and others when we’re drowned to the gills taking hallucinatory drugs or when we're punch drunk - yes, that's when you need to know, that's when you want to catch yourself doing things and seeking answers. 

Those were the questions, the whispers inside Dan, they kept asking ‘ is there ? Something there beyond consciousness? No it was not about god or divinity those had become too prosaic, too lame even archaic, his queries were more to do with his own self, his own dislocation. Are there things inside you that you don’t know? But yet things that surface? even without your volition? and make you do things? Questions that floated somewhere between his legs and his head even as he sat comfortably lounged on a deck chair watching and soaking in a clutch of noire stuff more as a distraction from his collective basket of insomnia , de addiction and guilt laden introspection;

He had started with Majid Majidi and Abbas Kiarostami, moved on to Godard and Fellini, Dan finally lost appetite by the time he reached Kieslowski – that’s the beauty of a rehab, good life, good cinema, great food, good ambience - lots of pine and a little bird who walked all over him too.

Given a chance Dan would want to report into a rehab every weekend, having lost faith since years, his unspiritual emptiness found resonance in the desodomised halls of a rehab. 

XIII - Unbound

Dan took a drag from Bobby, Dan noticed Bobby was by now completely lost to a different world, maybe he was in Bosnia.  A faint smile crossed his lips as he saw himself as a kid walking in that blistering sun. He was just 6 or 7 maybe, Annie must have been a bit younger. He was dark brown with thick black porcupine hair, a round face, dark eyes but somehow had this look of mischief written all about him, then. Annie too was brown maybe a bit fairer than Dan, she too was small, dark hair split into two pony tails. The only difference is Annie looked more scholarly, intelligence was written all over her, Annie had an aura, a certain sense of energy that was impossible to miss.  She had a laugh that was infectious. And boy did she laugh with her eyes – once again Dan smiled the smoky visions he was looking at were so pleasant, he was glad and so he took another deep drag and exhaled.

Dan could hear the FM radio playing a song he knew ‘when she goes she’s gone, when she stays, she stays right here’ …he sang along in an undertone almost all to himself and his mind continued to take him back to that day. 

They certainly did not look the least like any runaways as they walked, hand in hand with a lot of encouraging words of comfort from Vanaja, their serendipitous escort, by now both Annie and Dan had exhausted all their tears they were now left with just a few hiccups and an occasional sob, even as they sucked on the lollipop they were given at a bakery just after alighting from the bus by a very light and smiling Vanaja – who gave it to them saying ‘OK, runaways here’s your prize catch, enjoy’ and how we did ! And as we sauntered on in the distance we could see a kind of a crowd rushing forward, we could sense Vanaja tensing up first and then she muttered oh! There they are, your parents. Almost glad she had completed her part of the story.

Dan, thought that this complete sense of disengagement, his preference for alienation and his penchant for the melodramatic that he suffered from often may have probably had its roots somewhere in those years. But the problem with him was he was too much of an actor too, he could and would almost always end up trying to be an image, a replica of someone or something he would have found interesting, he was rarely himself – except when he was lost and alone. And that made his task of sifting through layers of himself very complicated, it was tough separating the real from the actor, the fake.

And the other comfort he had found in his later years of being a clown, a slapstick comedian who wanted to see others laugh through ridiculous means flummoxed him. To him so much of it was a negation of his inner self but he never knew why people always thought he was an comic artist, people always thought he could make them smile and he ended up obliging – and the joke was always on him.

Maybe someone wanted him to be an idiot, maybe his mother or maybe his father, maybe his teachers too, maybe his friends – someone somewhere wanted him to be an idiot.

His early childhood seemed too , too hazy, somewhere in that hazy dark alley of his mind he could hear several sounds, several hymns and cries, somewhere he found his mother screaming, with pain, somewhere he found his father doing something ugly and physical to his mother. Somewhere he found his mother stealing glances and smiling at another man – how authentic can these ghost like images be? Did he really witness such events? Did they have a bearing on what he became as an adult? Are you as an adult simply a sum of your hoary past ? a past that had no real language? No real metaphor? A product with no known source of supply ? mentally ? 

Physically, the DNA, the proportions and all that were pretty clear but where did he become what he has become? Why? When? How? Danny trail of thinking continued now onto a different track 'How predictable was my past ? the questioned boomed inside his head . For Dan these questions had become critical and he knew that his mind needed some real deconstruction, deconstruction? Or was it? Whatever. Dan muttered.

Peel away they used say - at the Confucian monastery he stayed, somewhere deep in Mongolia? Or was it when he was in China? - just peel away – you’ll find the Hereros, those native Americans, the aborigines all those living, roaming inside you. Inside you you will find the oppressed and the oppressive, you will find you the idiot.  

Dan took a another drag, the marijuana seemed slow in acting but the combination of the scotch and the grass gave him a sense of being ethereal, he turned to Bobby and said Hey! Come back from Bosnia Bobby! And he started laughing, Bobby looked at him and smiled and sang the song that Dan had hummed a while ago ‘ when she goes she’s gone..’ and then said to him ‘you seem lost yourself Dan, where were you Prague? Berlin?  The questions had a weight of their own. They, the questions, referred to their visit to the Jewish cemetery where they had smoked a weed dedicated to Yehuda Ben Bezalel and later at Berlin to the play on Nietzsche that they had been to. 

They were punch drunk and had stood up and questioned the playwright and all that that was being enacted before being finally thrown out of the theater for being such a huge nuisance it was a miracle that they weren't deported. And it was even more fortunate they weren't in the Nazi era. 

In fact it was in Germany that he had first conjured up his musical on Shelley’s Prometheus and it was in Prague he thought he would corrupt his musical and give it a Byronesque twist. An effect not unaffected by the little Czech red heads who had taken him to the Sex machines muzeum one night and then all hell had broken loose – Bobby and Dan were caught in a real crazy chase, someone did not like Bobby using a machine on a pet dog , we had to run for our lives, the pet belonged to a Mohawk head – Bobby had to use his real gun to escape.   

Dan and Bobby were by now swinging , they were back near the Chevy and they were singing and dancing to a Jim Morrison number LA Woman and by now they were managing to attract attention from people around – but they were on a highway and they were oblivious. Danny, was slowly but surely blacking out.

And the wind was turning cold. 

XII - The first elopement

Vanaja was a young, newly recruited clerk working for the railways. A south Indian Brahmin she had to complete a hoard of chores in the morning which started exactly at 4.30Am everyday . Her day started with her helping out her mother, sweeping and mopping the house ( it had to happen just today, when she found the recycled nightie cloth which she used for mopping was beyond use and so She had to sacrifice one more old underskirt of hers, she tore it carefully and used a torn piece to mop the floor while carefully preserving the rest for future use) , washing her family’s laundry, cutting out vegetables, making breakfast for all her 10 family members and even helping Mother preparing lunch before finally packing her own lunch box. 

But today everything had gone horribly wrong , one she woke up late, real late, 7AM, then she found her ailing asthmatic brother needed help, and then she realised her mother too was sick and so could not get herself up from her bed which invariably meant she had to make sure every aspect of the household work fell squarely on her shoulders for the day and she would only be able to start to her office post lunch.

Vanaja finally turned the kerosene stove down and cut the flame fully. Wiped her brow with her saree end and carefully picked up the boiling Sambar vessel from the stove using the same saree end in a manner she could hold two ends of the round neck of the vessel and then with a turn of her torso placed the vessel in a circle of other lunch related stuff that she had already arranged on the floor of their small kitchen. Then through the corner of her eye she looked at the old wall clock and cursed, realising it had stopped working and so she was fooled into believing that she still had enough time to start to her office at least after eating something called lunch but the moment she realised that the wall clock wasn't working she froze and knew she better starve if she were to reach office post lunch and save at least half a days CL. She quickly recovered her energy and rushed towards the small pooja shelf where she had her wrist watch which was gifted to her by her dad as a recognition of his love for her when she handed him her first salary of Rs.30.

At first she thought her wrist watch too wasn't working because it was showing a time that she refused to believe, she held the watch and took near her ears and shook it twice and looked at the watch again and this time she could clearly see the minute needle moving and she realised She was really, really late to her office even for the post lunch session. Just yesterday her superior Mr. Viswamithra had warned her about her late reporting and said that one more day and he would be forced mark her as LOP for a day as per rules.But, then she thought she could still make it in case she moved right away. 

Vanaja, lost no time, she rushed into the washroom, opened the tap thanked her luck that the municipal tap water had still not been stopped, they used to stop it at sharp 8am and it was already 12.45 and the water was still flowing, She quickly threw her old Saree, her blouse into a corner and without bothering to remove either her bra or her full length underskirt simply picked the aluminium mug, picked water from the aluminium bucket and started her bath at jet speed. In seconds she was out, running, in her wet underskirts, the towel wrapped around her hair and another old torn rag to cover her naked breast.

She rushed mumbling a sloka, lit the holy wicker lamp ( in the process almost threw all the matchsticks from her matchbox down) took a small bit of Vibhoothi with one of her fingers she made a sliding motion so that the ash mark appeared as a neat thick horizontal line on her forehead making sure the mark appeared exactly at the center of her forehead. She then picked her box kajal and with an expert swish applied it to both her eyes with just an obtuse angle view of her small tin framed mirror. She then wriggled and unwrapped her towel wrapped around her hair rushed to put the towel to dry on the plastic electrical wire piece that was cut at two ends and tied to two strong nails located at 2 ends of their single bedroom apartment to function as their family linen and laundry drying line , the house incidentally was given to her father by the railways as a Sr. Foreman at the local railway locomotive shed. 

Vanaja was now moving at the speed of light, She grabbed the first Saree she could lay her hands on, while simultaneously bringing her hair forward with an expert shake of her head and a angular bending of her torso her entire hair bunch just flew to the front she quickly held it gave it a formal brushing with a comb even if it was hard and knotty and then quickly threw her hair back while tying her hair into a single knot at the end of her hair length- in flat 10 minutes she was all set to reach her bus stop – Mettiguda, which was also the stop for all those who were connected in some way to the Lalaguda Railway hospital close by.

The bus was packed to its gills, people were crammed so close it was hard to breathe, the mid afternoon summer heat only made matters worse, Vanaja made sure there were no males anywhere near her trying to inadvertently rub onto her in the guise of the shaking and bustling of the bus, the weight of the overcrowded bus was such that the bus had bent itself onto the left side almost as if the people who were hanging out on the footboard were trying to pull it down like those anarchist at the University campus and it was miraculously fighting to remain steady and continue to worm its way towards its destination, as the vehicle laboured its way forward, Vanaja could hear the Driver giving a piece of his mind to some of the rogues on the footboard clearly instructing them to stay away from the women. She then looked around and found a few familiar faces and acknowledged them with a smile while continuously mumbling to herself about how to handle her boss Vishwamithra. She noticed the conductor approaching her, pushing his weight through the crowd and mechanically repeating the words ‘tickets, tickets' through his teeth, just as he reached nearer to Vanaja he happened to notice 2 young tots, one boy and one girl hanging onto dear life to a vertical bar and then he also noticed that they were both trying hard to hide their big moist eyes and simultaneously trying real hard to remain calm and normal.

Vanaja again looked at her watch, oblivious to the children next to her in the crowded bus, she was concentrating to get her bus pass out of her hand bag and the zipper wasn’t most cooperative, she was trying to loosen her hand bag zipper with one hand while holding onto the roof handle bar with the other hand and while she was at it she heard the driver asking someone "so where are you going?" and just then she also heard 2 children wailing and someone tugging at the bottom end of her Saree.

Vanaja stopped fiddling with her handbag and shifted her attention to the two hands pulling at her Saree and was shocked to see two little children , one boy and a girl, sobbing, and through their sobs and saliva the boy among them managed to ask her help to buy them their tickets - it did not take too much time for Vanaja to recognise little Daniel and Annie.

Vanaja was totally confused , looking at the two kids, who were both her neighbours. She first looked around to check if she could find either of their parents and was confounded further when she realised they were not around, she then asked Daniel where he was going, Daniel clutched hold of Annie’s arm and through a flood of tears told her that they, both Annie and him, were running away and so they wanted her to buy them their tickets to wherever she was going.

That's when Vanaja knew almost instantly that her half day CL which she was trying to save was now more or less consumed and in fact she will probably end up being marked absent and so will have to also bear a LOP for the day .

But without wasting too much time she decided 'so be it', these children need help, and immediately shouted at the conductor to stop the bus, the conductor too by then knew something was seriously amiss, the crowd were amused and were smirking at the kids, one of them even chided the two kids asking Hey! So you both are running away? and gave out a huge laugh even as others around joined in the mirth. Daniel surely didn't seem very amused. Annie kept looking at all wide eyed and lost. Finally the conductor blew his whistle as hard as he could and barked at the driver in his telengana slang to stop the bus, the driver hearing the bark knew something was pretty serious stopped the bus to a screeching halt.

Vanaja quickly held the arms of both the kids taking them on either side and dragged the two sobbing miniatures still in their school uniforms out of the crowded bus.    

XI - Missing

Daniel was holding Annie’s hand, she had her palms open and sobbing uncontrollably, they were both caned with such ferocity their tender palms were spurting blood and they were made to kneel outside their class under a hot summer sun. That’s when Danny decided that enough was enough.

Back at her home Mrs. Ezekiel was a very worried woman. Annie who would have normally reached home by noon had not turned up. It was 3 in the afternoon. She had somehow managed to come out of her 3 storied Railway Quarters building and spoke to a few neighbors who also had their children studying at Santiniketan after having picked up their children if they had seen Annie most answered in the negative, and now it was well over 2 hours since the school wound up and still there was no sign of her little Annie.

Meanwhile Danny's sister Mary too was crying as she walked home alone from the school, She had searched and searched for her little young brother who would have usually joined her after school and they would have both headed home together, hand in hand. Today, Danny was not to be found and a few inquiries that she tried at the school office only drew fiery glares from the teachers around. As she helplessly cried she was talking to herself repeating to herself through tears and saliva "Danny where are you? what will i tell Mom? Danny were are you?"  a few parents who saw Mary crying, enquired and when they were told about her reason tried consoling Mary saying maybe Danny had walked home ahead of her, taking those words of consolation she started to slowly walk back home , alone. 

X - The Daniel riot

Ddaniell Jjesudasannn! The name was being announced in a tone and decibel that was clearly not very pleasant, but Daniel was in no mood to accept any threats, he was very well positioned underneath his school bench and was more than happy watching Annie, who was also comfortably squatted underneath her bench, looking at him in a queer manner and smiling and then sobbing alternatively he found the whole sequence more amusing than responding to the imminence of his name being howled out, and he thought he was in fact obligated to Annie to ignore the sinister call from above and compliment Annie, smile to smile, so he smiled when she smiled and stopped when she stopped, smiled again when she smiled stopped again when she stopped and he wished that would go on for eternity. In fact to make sure this very pleasant game continued he even offered Annie , with a gesture, his pencil which he had clutched tight in his hand and this time it was Annie’s turn to accept his offer so she looked at him, neither smiling nor sobbing, raised a hand and gestured towards Daniel to come over to where she was Daniel did not hesitate even for a second, he just shifted his posture to all fours and started crawling just then he saw a hand from above once again shouting his name so ominously that it only spurred him to urgently escape the outstretched hand which was out to grab him from above and dart on all fours towards Annie by then all hell broke loose the children who were until then watching with horror the scene above suddenly shifted there attention to the scene under the bench and started a chorus of laughing loud and then many even simultaneously thought they too should join Daniel and Annie, under the benches, and that started a ruckus so pure it drove the blood pressure of Mrs. Anaconda - the headmistress - and Mrs. Sorelilly – the Class Teacher – of Std. 1A, Santiniketan completely , uncontrollably , irretrievably up and up beyond any machine’s standard readings.

Mrs. Anaconda and Mrs. Sorelily reacted in tandem, it was so natural, Mrs. Anaconda ran ( a child watching her run thought the earth shook ) horizontally to the other end of the class room Sorelily sped in a perpendicular direction to the back end of the classroom both aimed to corner Daniel from different sides of the square shaped class room, while Mrs. Anaconda aggressively threw her books on the class table, Mrs. Sorelily had her Saree pallu flying out of control, but the pure ruckus was so pure that they couldn't remain standing above to succeed in their mission and so they too went on all fours pushed and shoved themselves through the melee and cursing ( in a language that if the children would have understood they would have collectively complained to God how bad the two teachers were )  and as the two great pedagogicians very nearly succeeded on their mission of catching hold of Daniel but the children including Danny and Annie collectively decided with a shriek of joy ( for them it was turning out to be a great game of catch me if you can )  to get away from their crawling position under the bench to the more strategically advantageous position above the benches, and now the BP of Mrs. Anaconda and Mrs. Sorelily was beyond, beyond - and the shrieks and howls from the class room 1A had already attracted the attention of other class teachers who too decided to rush towards Class 1A and as they rushed a few children from their classes too joined them, in all the entire Santiniketan school was now more or less located in and around Class 1A.

As the teachers from outside watched, they were horrified to see Mrs. Anaconda and Mrs. Sorelily on all fours and crawling underneath the benches and snarling and howling and trying to catch someone or something, at first for those teachers who had just reached the scene and who could only view into the class room through the windows on their side, none could really make out what on earth was going on, it was unlike anything that they had ever seen, watching Mrs. Anaconda in such a , what some people  thought, compromising position was not something that they were ever used to ever. All they could see were children hopping around shouting and shrieking and the two much haloed teachers moving around on their knees. While some teachers were more than amused , even overjoyed, looking at the scene unfolding the more stern ones lifted one portion of their Saree sideways and shoved it tight into their belly and stepped in with determination to end the whole hara-kiri.

Just then Daniel decided it was time he ran out of the class room and seeing him moving in that direction Annie too pushed herself in that direction, Annie had forgotten all about her bitter sorrows and was completely exhilarated at the turn of events she used every bit of her lung power and darted towards the door and having watched Daniel and Annie making their moves to get out of the classroom many other children too turned around to join them. As Daniel ran he looked behind saw Annie too was headed his way he was blind with joy to he closed his eyes tight and with a huge war cry charged out and promptly crashed into the waiting arms of one of the teachers who were well set to stop them from escaping out. Slowly even Annie and all the others met with the same fate - the shrieking melee at the Classroom 1a of Santiniketan was finally brought under control and Mrs. Anaconda and Mrs. Sorelily finally managed to get back to normalcy and stand on their 2 legs like other adult humans. Even as they knew that their knees were sore and had developed blood colored rashes during the course of what they later called the Daniel riot. 

They were all ‘arrested’ by a swarm of teachers who had by now gathered outside Std. 1A. each one of them were dragged by their ears and with a command from Mrs. Anaconda made stand together in a horizontal line. By now it was clear to the children that what they thought was a hilarious ‘catch me if you can’ sport was after all not anything or anywhere close to it.

IX - Baltimore, Maryland

A light breeze rolled a few dry leaves hither thither. The earth beneath was an orangish yellow, hardened through years of wilderness, the bushes and plants living off its bosom swayed just a bit , Danny noticed they were seated at a place that stretched endlessly with hardly a tree in sight , those that did catch his eye were distant and stood solitary almost shockingly lonely. With every step Danny took carrying the refilled glasses of scotch from his car, even as the smell marijuana smoke wafted from where Bobby was seated, Danny’s mind, against his will, pushed his thoughts back, recounting the days that have forever haunted, hounded, pained, mystified him – the days that brought him face to face with his most untamed region of darkness, the days that brought him face to face with Annie.    

As he walked crunching on stones and gravel through the ethereal ether came the sounds of a distant opera, a distinct Soprano, crying out his soul at what seemed like a revelation he wasn’t ready to witness. Reminding Danny of the musical he was himself working on loosely based on Shelley’s Prometheus corrupted in a Byronesque backdrop. The sky above completed the visual orchestra turning purple on the top with a melange of magenta and a tinge of copper sulphate blue and green merging into a big rash of orange at the end of a long sun less horizon.  

In short this is the story of Daniel Madan Jesudasan and Anna Namrata Ezekiel, two souls who were never born to meet, who met and by destiny remained passionate paramours for life. Paramours whose travails started in an Indian Railway colony in the South Central city of Secunderabad known as much for its landscaped and manicured military cantonment as for its dusty, crowded suburbs housing railway workers around Mettiguda and Lalaguda shifting later to Cambridge, Harvard, New York and Prague in its emotional sweep.

Baltimore,Maryland, June 2013.  

Annie and the Underworld VIII

Past Present

Danny was with Bobby, his friend , he had just returned from Bosnia, they were sharing a scotch while also sharing a weed and reminiscing about nothing in particular, nothing really in focus. They had squatted a few yards outside his car, now parked, after they had driven aimlessly out of the city and then had found themselves slowing down once they were convinced they were around a point that just had themselves and the vast expanse of wilderness stretching beyond, they had parked not for anything but to simply chat and drink and smoke.

But, the Bobby with whom Danny was sharing a drink and grass with now was so intriguing. While at school he was this well behaved, friendly, native music loving averager who never had anything about him that would make you sit up and take notice, nothing extra ordinary, if you know what I mean, we all grew up singing the same songs through the soundless corridors of our College, generally making it known to no one in particular and to all who might hear, how happy - go - lucky we were - back then we were not even into weed, we were just into alcohol for fun.

Life, future, money, career, growing up, branching out was not even mentioned, even as a joke but it was generally taken that we all would find something as we move on nothing in particular but something that simply comes along.

Days were spent in the wet, thatched alcohol shanties of our native land. Days were spent discussing everything from the nosediving Skylab, to Bubka and Garry Linekar to Prestroika and arguing the virtues of Marxism or watching movies of all sorts in many of those old, ramshackle cinema halls we had in our small town. Never was future ever even considered as a worthy enough small talk, all talks and discussions were general, simply throwing each others quarter knowledge of some subject, but we were generally liberal and interestingly carried conscience, morality, honour, empathy and pity for the not so privileged, patriotism and such aspects as a part of our general milieu somewhere as a part of our persona.

Emerging from such a backdrop to be talking to Bobby now seemed like he was from a different planet, different life altogether – the earlier one felt so distant, so ridiculous, so callous. Bobby today called himself a Marine, a private marine, specialised in mobilising private armies to fight wars of today from Sudan to Iraq, Chenchnya to Afghanistan, he globe trotted around like we commute between our home and office, he walked in and out of volatile riot zones like we do from our supermarkets, he was often sought out by everyone from the UN to the Americans, the Brits the Russians or Arabs or Africans.

Danny dimly remembered that Bobby was this very polite, friendly with everyone type of person, never had he ever, ever, shown even a semblance of a trait, except in some odd boyish brawls that used occur like once a millennium, that he had had a streak that was anywhere near being physical or violent or bullyish – definitely not as someone who could mobilise armies of men adept at killing people belonging to alien lands using weapons and methodologies that would make Aushwitz and the Leninist-Stalinist -Marxist forms of mass murder seem like mere fodder for Woody Allen comedies.

It was incredible to one day suddenly find that he, Bobby, the ever smiling, friendly,singing and jovial Bobby would one day become this big, wanted, International private whose actions were responsible for many of the news we heard everytime we switched on a news channel was a bit of a stretch, but all the same, he did have every element about him that more or less conveyed he was someone who was jetting around the most dangerous parts of the world, doing something really bloody and none of it was something that he did wearing those humble torn jeans and faded T's we wore as teens.      

And these sort of things intrigued Danny endlessly, these dimensions of human mind especially those deeply buried dimensions of human mind that provokes violence, anger, spite, hate among people considered otherwise highly civil and polite to the point of being benchmarks intrigued Danny no end.  

I’m sure it would shock anyone when you see or hear these types, if you know them or if you are yourself someone trapped in that sort of dichotomy where you suddenly display aspects of behaviour considered highly deviant, especially acts of physical violence springing up out of nowhere thoroughly shocking your own self, take for instance a sudden act of violence against someone you love, someone you swear you love with your life.  

It had happened to him, Danny Jesudasan, he too had had his own shocking capers first with Helen and then with dear Annie, in the past, he remembered even as he enacted some of it a part of him was simultaneously shocked while another part went about doing stuff to the women he loved things that hurt, hurt real bad, the real shock was it was done with an intention and in a manner that it was meant to hurt, physically and mentally and even emotionally. And worse Danny went about repeating them, on and on, sometimes drunk, which only compounded the actions even further, he winced when he was reminded that he did it even as they the women he was so much in love with cried and sobbed with their looks of horror - and deep inside something told Danny that it wasn’t the alcohol alone.  

As Danny continued reflecting his thoughts were drawn back to Bobby’s funny voice , even if he was talking to me in all seriousness, for a moment Danny skipped amusing myself with his voice quality and got drawn by what he was saying, Bobby said “So many of aspects of our past is so full of stuff that you would want to run from, hide from, shove, erase, change, modify, correct, rewrite, confess and ask for help - trash. So much of your past you would want to bare out, so much you would want to cast out, discard, throw. So much of your past you are embarrassed, you are afraid to share or talk. Much of whatever we do I think will probably need a constant access to a shrink, a omnipresent shrink, but the problem is, I feel with the very premise of these learned professionals much of what they observe and read is itself based on an idea of human society that’s extremely bleak and pale white, extremely sensitive to even the most insignificant deviance” saying which he paused with a faintly sad grin that had browsed eyebrows backing it, his eyes were now a darker shade and Danny thought they were crying out, to shout, shout it all out.

Danny interrupted Bobby, once he had taken a pause, hesitating initially thinking maybe he would want to continue, maybe he had an automatic which he wanted to empty into the air, but slowly Danny realised Bobby’s professionalism was back in its place and he was breathing easy now Danny was wondering about the kind of demons that Bobby was battling in his head, the fight in his head seemed much more complex than all the bloody insurgencies and wars he was involved in and then Danny asked him if he had ever visited a shrink and Bobby in his new and usually matter-of-fact manner said “Yes” and went on to say he does have a few of them whom he visits while in Paris or Zurich in fact he went to say that he visits Paris and Zurich only to meet his shrinks and then once done with the session he loves meditating it out in the marijuana bars of Copenhagen – for a moment they allowed silence to hang on them, it was like time had come to a point and just stood still.

Danny took Bobby’s empty glass , he gave it looking distant and slowly rolling another smoke, Danny stood up and walked back towards the car and as he refilled, he turned on the radio thinking some music would help. But ended up catching on to a talk show with someone who sounded like a wounded Leonard Cohen.  

"Through the prisons of our mind, our fears and prejudices are released through gaps and squeaks. Man seeks atonement only to sin again in a land that has lost its god, lost its religion, lost its faith.

Here I’m, I said

To no one in particular

Here I’m, I cried

To no one in particular

Faithless

Homeless

Clueless.

Yet, biased

As hell". 

Danny walked back. 

Annie and The Underworld VII

Those eyes could dance, I tell you. They could dance and even smile,with a twinkle added. Shades of light could work magic with those eyes – they were by far the most brilliant eyes I had ever seen and would later realise I ‘d ever see, ever. We were at the church, I was on my congos holding them between my legs and engrossed with the choir, we were rehearsing it was a native song sung in our native tongue, the emptiness of the parish made the music seem hollow and loud but we were oblivious to all that the choir was howling out the song, craning their necks, eyes cringed and shut, arms bent , fists clenched with a sense of concentration, they were moving their lower body like a lazy pendulum, my head was bent low and it was also nodding thither , hither while I also had my eyes shut I did keep opening them once a while just to observe the rhythmic balance and it was during one of those sessions that I noticed Annie walking into the aisle, quiet, calm and composed.

She looked at me and then beyond her sight seemed travelling almost through me as she evaluated the choir, the light from the glass panes of the tall coney church tower came in like shafts, the images of gods and angels had doves and bats for company, the Choir master was clapping and was completely entranced, I smiled at her and waved, she refused to acknowledge, she was trying her best to remain solemn and that made me smile even wider as I shook my head and continued banging my congos in a rhythm that bordered on a sense of youthful fun.

She stepped aside and hurriedly kneeled onto the bench the sunlight gave her thin hair a brownish halo but yet I realised She had’t had her bath, at least She had’t washed her hair, so it had that typical dry, overnight look and I could smell them even from a distance, they still had a heady feel to them, despite their lack of freshness. Annie had made herself oblivious to all of what was going on around, I knew that She knew that I was happily watching her every move while continuing to play with the choir and not allowing anyone notice my object and subject of amusement. Annie was praying her arms folded and palms grasping each other and soft mumbles dropping out of her lips, Annie was a crazy, crazy bug, I tell you – I wanted to howl and laugh out so loud I thought even the gigantic Church spire would crash with the after effect such was the hilariousness of the scene being enacted. Annie squeezed open one eye and looked straight at me, satisfied herself that she continued to have my amused attention and then promptly went back to her prayers – did I see a smile ? did I ????

Jesus on the cross continued to bleed. 

Annie and the Underworld VI

That sound, that name, that whisper and that same sticky saliva between her lips they all seemed mnemonics from the past, from the deepest end of my past. In a whiff it took away everything I loved about New York, about art, about poetry about dance , music, art everything faded into a blazing light that cracked and banged with sounds like I was on a transatlantic locomotion. The strength of steel on steel, one laid and the other rolling. I was rolling my mobile phone, over and over, my eyes were half shut, the light was hurting, my body was shaking, a School building was revolving and my train moved on, at the speed of light – blue and black light. And through the shade and the blaze, all I wanted was to touch that face, hold it tender, gently lift and look deep into those glassy, brown eyes.       

Lethologica

Lethologica

You know ?

You don’t

I know ?

I don’t.

When actually 

you want to say

I don't

You say

I do .

Funny

But for Annie

It took her life.

Well almost. 

Annie and the Underworld V - Sophomore

The word purists suddenly veered my memograph ( that’s what I called my visual memory at times, at times I also called it as neurograph) took me to the days of my Phd at the Harvard University, where I used shuttle between the Dept. of Contemporary Philosophy & Neuro Psychology and my conversations with Prof.  Bernstein, my guide from the Dept. of Contemporary Philosophy. Bernstein and I shared a unique relationship , over a period of time we had erased all the lines that separated the Student, the learner, the researcher and the mentor and guide, we were adversaries, enemies, admirers who sometimes loathed each other and at times fell over each other to express our sense of adoration for each others brilliance or the lack of it. We often had so many arguments, some lame, some profound, some banal and some bordering on the brilliant – today as i reflected about those days I shook my head wondering why I couldn't record any of those numerous conversations even as I suddenly I remembered one such conversation where I was going all out to condemn Freud , Jung and all the Psychoanalyst gang on one side ( to which he was quite happy since he thought not much about his colleagues from the Neuro Sciences, he called them psycho babblers)  and in the same breath expressed my awe of their ability to arrive at what seemed bizarre inferences but highly corroborated beliefs of today.

My train of thoughts continued to roam the haloed halls of Harvard and my animated conversations with Prof. Carl Bernstein. Our favorite hunting hound was Immanuel Kant, Prof. Bernstein felt Kant and his ilk and all their treatise were all weak and they were not even worth a research, instead Carl preferred Husserl, Stumpf, Brentano and Nietzsche, he thought they still held enough juice in them.

But for me the idea of Priori and the Apriori held tremendous mystique, the idea of morality, study of the idea of evil bored me no end when seen through the prism of theology but they fascinated me equally no end when seen through the prism of Phenomenology. 

Once during one of those conversations he had inferred  “I think the world probably under estimates Brentano, Stumpf and Husserl, their collective contribution to the world, Phenomenology” the Prof. waited for me to acknowledge his train of thought , I nodded and indicated that he had my attention, having got his confirmation the Prof. continued - glad I offered him my instant attention - “for me Husserl’s role in creating the Nazi Racial Manual, seems like a natural causal output coming from a mind that had erased all notions of evil as utter rubbish when viewed through the prism of Phenomenology, so for Husserl the Nazi Reich was but an extension of his own Noema seen through his Noesis, but what I'm appalled and pained at is not Husserl or his eventual decadence but the very act, a blatant transgression ? throwing the human race into an intellectual hell created by his own Solus Ipse? Carl shrieked the least part of his query through clenched teeth, I continued looking at him impassively, he continued, but the human race is still so very naïve and even innocent like a turkey" he continued after a pause for effect and to see if i caught his deliberate pun "as long as Politics remains in the hands of a few who are adept at exploiting the Archaic and the Archetypal Universals and as long as the race depends on manipulated democracy for Governance, civilian Social Behavior and notions of evil will remain naive judgments of minds that are forcibly manipulated to ideate only in Black or White” – that’s when I rose to protest I called him an elitist, a hypocrite and went on - even if i noticed he had put on an expression of mock consternation - using all the animation available I told him how utterly disgusting his thinking was and how he was himself the cause of Contemporary philosophy not breaking new ground – Carl, though initially acted shocked at my sudden outburst, later simply laughed almost content as he would when his child would have reacted taking on some ethical point and then getting justifiably angry over an issue that was clearly meant to provoke exactly such a reaction - I realised Carl's vicarious objective a bit late , then stopped my rant, midway, glared at him and left the session in a huff.

As the scene unfolded within the film of my mind, I paused as a wry smile shaped my face. 

This story that’s unfolding out here is in a way a living biography of a kind of Phenomenology. My own personal life’s phenomenology – call it contemporary Phenomenology. I know the purists will hate it me when I say it.                     

Annie and the Underworld- IV

Annie was in a world of her own again. Her nurse heard soft whispers as Danny watched with a somber look. It was largely a monologue.With Annie moving her fingers in an imaginary world of action as if she was typing out on her mobile. Danny remembered as he overheard her conversation with herself that it was A repeat of a Blackberry conversation long forgotten.Annie's eyes were sparkling as she smiled to herself and typed as she whispered the words she was typing and then reacted in a mock sort of way to imaginary answers and typed her response to an imaginary Danny - 

Annie: Danny???
Annie: Hey
Annie: Hulloww
Annie: Danny
Annie: Where r u????
Annie: Hello
Annie: Hey
Annie: You!!
Annie: There???
Annie: Where??
Annie: Why???
Annie: For???
Annie: Who??/
Annie: Gosh!!
Annie: When???
Annie: Oh oh
Annie: Come on
Annie: Come off it
Annie: You can't!!
Annie: Don't you!!
Annie: Now??v
Annie: Mad??
Annie: Plsss
Annie: Serious??
Annie: Kidding???
Annie: No!!!
Annie: Are you sure???
Annie: Reaally???
Annie: You think!!!
Annie: Ummmmm
Annie: Welll
Annie: Not really
Annie: Can't say
Annie: Probably
Annie: Possible
Annie: Impractical
Annie: Even now???
Annie: Impossible
Annie: Unbelievable
Annie: Unthinkable

Danny couldn't hold onto his silence, he spoke softly into Annie's ears -

Danny: Hey
 Danny: What was that?
Annie: What did you think?

And she trailed off repeating her last sentence over and over and over.Danny wondered if she had actually responded to him.

Annie and the Underworld -III

As my dream about Santiniketan with all its quirks and chaos continued on one side , the one thing that has amazed me through years of my days of research at the University of Harvard is the ability of a human mind to have multiple conversations within the mind, almost like a mind within a mind within a mind, so if one part of my mind was occupied with the goings on at Santiniketan almost a quarter of a century ago another side of my mind, almost another compartment that I seem to have simultaneous and near real time access to, like so many others , pushed up an old favorite treatise of mine - that of ‘time’ and its relative control over the human mind. My fascination , not just at Harvard, even during the days at Cambridge, where I was doing my Masters, was the same ‘how a human mind was so deeply influenced by events, incidents, thoughts, feelings and inferences that were long forgotten, long, not even remembered they existed,but exist they did. Nothing that you ever did in your past is ever left unrecorded. My fascination were not about the events themselves but it was about how these incidents , those joys and fears, disappointments and regrets, rejections and acceptance ruled our life… about how they collectively played such a huge role in defining our present , they were about data belonging to such a hoary past , almost from the time that you were just out of your toddling days or sometimes even earlier, and how your adult behavior was often the resultant of a storage center that had a huge number of unknown corners that had stored data unbeknownst to you from those days (that you nearly buried) and embedded them into your personality making them so powerful that it is such data that was stored long, long while ago, from those days that were so deeply confined in some corner of your mind that controlled almost everything you did as an adult – today. Even simple actions like those ones you did just to 'mock a mock' ( those small , irreverent and funny actions to make someone laugh ) that you thought were just an aside about which you hardly cared, had more to it than what you would otherwise have given credence. I often wondered how much we were , we humans, a product of our past and how past was the only sense of real time, I marveled at how the present and the future in time simply melted like irrelevant mists and merged to define themselves in relativity with time past – ‘a human is permanently and helplessly trapped and controlled by events and incidents and feelings that were recorded deep, deep in ones past’ in fact there’s nothing called the present, nothing called future, you are what your past is - the words echoed loud in my head, my throat ached and my cheeks were wet with sweat and tears - i screamed.

Annie and the Underworld II

Last night I dreamt I was back at Santiniketan again. Suddenly the heat, the sweat, the stench, the goats and the dogs they all came back along with the cacophony and the screams of what seemed like a few hundred little children in Uniforms running around, but strangely I felt warm and pleasant, I even saw myself sprawled under my bench that I had wet, sobbing and generally feeling miserable and then suddenly noticing a figure at the backend of the class also darting underneath a bench and scrambling around on all fours as if in search of something, I watched the scene through what seemed like a few hundred dangling legs, some boyish, some girlish – and that made me smile, it made me laugh suddenly through the flood of my tears I was laughing and then crying and then laughing again while my nose leaked and sticky saliva stretched between my open lips – I realised it was Danny. He was the same guy ‘coz of whom I was in my current state of misery. It was he who had given me the folded white sheet that had those ugly words scribbled, I love you. In my dream the incident continued to roll and the chorus of the entire classroom chanting ‘shame, shame, shame’ tore through my wretched ears. That’s when I heard another distant sound calling out Annie?? Anne? The sound was so far , far away – yet it seemed so close, I felt I could touch the sound.

Annie and the underworld

it was a balmy summer afternoon,Annie walked in, She was distraught - her shoe had come off so she was forced to walk into her classroom half dragging it while also dragging her bag, her nose was sweaty her eyes were flooding up fast, she quickly relieved her School bag onto her desk, which was gratifyingly located in the front row of her class, and then promptly squatted underneath her school bench, unmindful of her clean white skirt, and sobbed like she was lost , she hated her existence, the heat outside was vengefully punitive as punitive as it was even inside Santiniketan. Not really the one envisioned by Tagore and other enlightened mortals of yore, this one was more exceptional, nothing inside Santiniketan matched its more celebrated namesake. It was one long ugly concrete shanty - hot, noisy, creepy, untidy and chaotic. The school even had dogs and goats moving in and out at will, goats in fact took pleasure in leaving behind their select droppings as a compliment, dogs did what they knew best lifting one leg. Santiniketan smelt of urine all around and so was Annie - for she had just managed to piss in her squatted position and continued sobbing even harder. The world above in the meanwhile was in complete oblivion of Annie's plight, it seemed so routine. Annie's mates where all in different states of animation themselves, most were also sobbing at different decibel levels, while a few were singing some fresh bollywood numbers, i could distinctly hear someone singing 'my name is Sheila, Sheila ki jawani'...somewhere in the background i think that was the ever active Bama singing, making sure her voice was heard above all the din, a few more were whining, a few were shrieking and running around, some were using their desk as a jumping board with disastrous effects, since when they jumped they either landed on a classmate or onto the next desk hurting themselves,I saw a few doing ramp walks - the classroom looked anything but one. And the whole of Santiniketan seemed caught in more or less similar state of animation making the whole school sound like a place in constant riot. The cacophony continued until soon Annie's teacher walked in, the animation and noise dropped down, all running and jumping around froze and the classroom settled down to an irritating buzz as the teacher took in the customary 'good morning teacher' chorus,and for Santiniketan it was not surprising how this routine was copied out in every classroom across the school all at the very same instant,so the chorus from our classroom had several matching chorus from the other classrooms at Santiniketan. Annie's teacher placed her cane on the table , cursed after looking at all the chalk dust on her table and promptly started addressing her uninterested wards who were by then back to more innovative forms of silent animation and gestures and games - this time it was located just within their limited desk space. The teacher banged her desk loud with her cane bang bang bang the class briefly gave her some semblance of an attention until She turned around and faced her small wooden black easel board and then went about hollering her nonsense,a small book in one hand her cane gripped loosely by the the other hand, some thought she was singing a rhyme but most had no clue what the teacher was doing, Annie continued sobbing underneath her bench and the rest were all doing whatever they felt like doing - everyone seemed happy doing whatever they were doing. All, except me. I was frowning at my pencil, someone had chewed its head off and so all i could do was to place it on top of my tapering desk and watch it slide and then catch it just before it fell down. I continued the sport for a while until one instance it slipped when i thought the teacher had called my name and i was caught between the confusion of whether to catch the sliding pencil or stand up to answer the teacher's calling- the pencil fell down or rather i allowed it to fall - I stood up, that's when i noticed that the classroom had a visitor, it was the big, dark and obese School Princi and her usually menacing face looked even more gnarled and angry - large dark red painted lips could not hide her yellowing dents, thick eyelashes, tacky eye shades, streaked hair, thick neck, big boobs on a sweaty face with ugly unaesthetic gold chains plus her stringed reading glasses together gave her just the look ideally suited for Santiniketan - She was discussing something with the class teacher in an agitated manner and the class teacher looked equally agitated and all the time they were looking at me and my name was being mentioned in a not so very complimentary tone. Then my name was called again, I realised my teacher was gesturing me to come forward, while gripping her cane harder, i knew what was coming but I was perplexed for i was not aware as to what was the cause and the severity of my crime, by now the whole classroom's attention was diverted to the current event that was rolling out, it was almost 40 gaping mouths wide open with fear and anticipation I slowly inched away from my desk which was Thankfully among the last rows of the classroom and using the art of inching forward at the slowest possible pace started inching forward , almost wishing they would ask me to go back and not come forward but no such luck came my way,then I remembered I had forgotten all about my fallen pencil I dashed back, slid under my bench and like a rat started looking around desperate almost as if I knew some hidden key that would magically take me out of this rathole, by now the decibel level at which my name was being called was getting seriously loud. But I tenaciously kept moving around, on my knees it was hurting and painful on the knee and my darned palms began sweating making my palms darken with dirt and dust , using the art of ignoring loud calls from 2 menacing faces who were waiting to devour me, through a corner of my eye I caught Annie, she was still crouched under her bench while she continued sobbing pacing her actions with a few gasps for breath intake, at that moment I wanted to roll on my stomach and laugh, Annie was such a crazy bug, but seeing her sob i lost control myself and started sobbing suddenly the whole of Santiniketan's Class 1C was wailing real loud - talk about collective sobbing, I think we were the very best in that art.

thesocratespot: death of agitation

thesocratespot: death of agitation: who's the ghost ? stalking? shadows ahead, light behind, radiating crescendos, emotional epilepsies, here now, nowhere

thesocratespot: Autumn

thesocratespot: Autumn: its almost a compulsion you have to live when you really cannot, you are told your body is incarcerated - you are no joan of ark no ...

Autumn

its almost a compulsion you have to live when you really cannot, you are told your body is incarcerated - you are no joan of ark no jesus no shylock not even the grave digger who played a role in the hamlet - Oncologists are your gods, society your naive shepherd, get burnt with radiation, they call it healing, be hated by those who once loved you when you are lost to the Alzheimers- who are you ? who are they ? is time relevant? is anything relevant? what's relevant? you are just less than a dead lamb. you just wait- death to come sooner than later. But, Nature, thinks you should piss around. And the Pharma company will test it - declare you need a syringe to live.

death of agitation

who's the ghost ? stalking? shadows ahead, light behind, radiating crescendos, emotional epilepsies, here now, nowhere

Scelorotic

Its a numb afternoon heat over Mumbai and not surprisingly even the dogs who feasted on human waste were fewer than their usual numbers for that matter even the vast ant like army of little malnourished children who usually lined up every side of the crowded, cluttered streets of the great slum sitting in a squatting position while openly defecating were fewer .

The heat was oily and sweaty , it seemed to create a sense of dazzling darkness on the entire slum forcing the scores and scores of the mobile bazaar system of old rusty wheel carts of various colors and hues that intertwined to simply stand muted and motionless under the effect of the sizzling sun.

And most of the tobacco spiced paan chewing male vendors with their leaky red oral liquid who earned their daily wage by pushing the inimitable old rusty 4 wheel-carts selling everything from strange leafy vegetables, sundried fish , half rotten berries ,bananas, guavas and that sinister looking burnt bamboo shoots , roasted peanuts and shallow fried potato patties and mint water filled fried buns found themselves catching a nap under their own rusty carts - briefly ignoring the meandering set of stray cattle that happily enjoyed the

while a whole battallion of 19th century automobiles honked and bonked and scratched and scowled and raved and ranted at each other with choicest of expletives while trying to beat each other to go ahead of a mindless traffic jam.

But the most interesting part wasn't the demographic stat, it was in fact the look on the faces of those few dogs as well as those children still around , they were unmistakable.

The dogs, the kids and the entire slum was infested by a feast of flies that enjoyed the hospitality of all the slum-dwellers and everything else around - so the scenario i was looking at with my half swollen eyes and an equally swollen lip went on slow motion : thin, lean street dogs licking fresh human excreta even while little humans continued excreting more - and all of them had a few tons of flies buzzing and moving and sitting all around them, including their faces , their arses everywhere even my own swollen face - the stench of the place was unique in a way - but while all this was happening the look and feel of the whole mise en scene was that of a numb , expressionless , value less but very purposeful world - a world that enjoyed being around, loads of shit.

little satan

he looked
lost
but
satan , he was

trapped

deep
in an unfamiliar
jungle

trees soared
creepers
hugged
bushes, rushed
water, gushed
slippery mud
sank to the knee

insects
thrived
his blood


the air was
thick
and the light ?
twilight -
a dark , silent
moonless
twilight

a poets
prayer

flashed

'eternity



even
thunder and
roars
sounded
like muted
rumbles

2011 AD

unknown to me there's a me

days have gone years have come i no longer eat mud but still feel I'm as blind as a bat they say mind is the home of reason but mine is so devoid of such attributes

Mysore

Man makes pictures Pictures make life I wish I could Make a picture

thesocratespot: It was fun really I kept swigging Dry And straig...

thesocratespot: It was fun really
I kept swigging
Dry
And straig...: "It was fun really I kept swigging Dry And straight Had no agenda Really Soma seemed Fully Under control I had no complaints I Enjoye..."

It was fun really
I kept swigging
Dry
And straight
Had no agenda
Really
Soma seemed
Fully
Under control
I had no complaints
I
Enjoyed
the companionship
I kept looking
I was in
I was out
Who was moving
who was not
What
How
Why
Giggles
Buzz
I stay
Stoic

shadows make sound

Shadows shadows shadows
making noises ?
I couldn’t ignore
You should only be making shapes
Not noises
I said
The shadow said
Just to spite
I smiled
Good try

iyer

my road

I was walking along that lonely road , the sun was scorching and the sky looked raped and I had lost my shoes – wasn’t easy , with my ultra thin 40gsm cotton tunic and nothing much else; The road was burning hot and the vegetation scarce, thorny , ugly - all forms of life seemed cockroaching away from that bastard sun , all except me. I had no choice really , for I had to go on , in fact I had to , there really was no choice .
Parched, thirsty, I looked at the black , thin, vomit and urine spilled water stream as I crossed it – it gave no solace ( added to my smirk ) but it definitely had the pigs , dogs & bitches almost drowning me but fortunately they saw I was walking and they slouched back – looking away from me- almost instantly they were so busy digging the cool , dark slush and dirt that even the crows and eagles respected their dirty , dirty turf .
I
I walked on
For I had to
Walk on

Sd/-
Iyer

mind mine

Mind mine
(by the end of
September )

it left me
feeling
slow?

like loosing
your
breath
then
your sight
then
your senses
and then

your
life

its autumn

and the leaves
they are all
deserting

and I
stood nude
when even
the barks
they bid

goodbye

and i?

lonemariner

Lone mariner

An old
un-sea worthy
betrayed but bold
white boat

seemed it had
sailed
many a rough
sea
before

but now
it lay
tired
along with
its lone
occupant
the lone mariner

a jagged pattern of
dark peels of wood
cut through
the fading paint

like
wounds
slashed
by
mad
butchers

even the sea
seemed
sad
as it
softly
lapped
itself
onto the jagged
broken
wooden
carriage
of the
old
ragged
white boat


small even by standards
of big and small.

the mariner lay sprawled
skin
burnt
parched
lips
half
shut
eyes

linen and skin
firmly starched
assaulted
by
salt

an all weather
man
the lone mariner

metastasize

ah! who among my dear writer friends gathered here can help me ? get over the loneliness that accompanies independence and the uneasiness that shadows freedom ? i feel i am far too free, far too independent , far too lonely , far too uneasy to ... u there can i carry that coffin ? i wanna feel that cold wood that carries the dead.

thesocratespot: Unfound

thesocratespot: Unfoundhttp://http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nu6o53LtU6Y

Unfound

How on earth did i manage this ?
of traveling this far ?
i have often reflected on this
45 years and all that !

Must surely be someone's idea of a good joke
have a feeling that someone just dropped me
in a hurry
and did not bother
to search or retrieve me
'coz it did not matter anyways
for what use are inconsequential objects ?

those things
that are allowed to be casually lost ?
or those
that are deliberately
allowed to simply slip out ?
those
when dropped
do not even make a sound ?

like those
utterly useless crap
that you sometimes slip
into your pocket
and then (say)
you had a hole in your pocket
and they simply dropped off ?

no, no not necessarily the kind of holes
that happen to those without a dime
i am talking about a hole
thats simply a hole
thats all

And that simple hole
that lost something irrelevant,
say a plastic coat button ?


And i being
lost and unfound
simply went about
like most unfound

Rolling here
moving there
sometimes hither
sometimes thither
sometimes wither

always inconsequentially

always like all forces

UNFOUND

Mick and his Graceful Washing Machine

Mumbai

oppressive, sweaty,obese
inch by inch
the fat alligator
crawls

numbed to slowness
the creature
moves
a sizzling splendour of
measled and venereal
skin

a dead
relationship
betwixt
a man and a woman
nature and god
love and betrayal
soul and heart

now a natural
state

except

mick's washing machine

quite, efficient, loyal
and smart

mumbai could learn
from it

sriram

revel

Musing on a New Year’s Eve…Apostacy!

Her last words still echoed
As a huge jumbo roared
Right above .

“Laugh with the whore and pass the pass Word”

Suddenly

You were
tugged
inside,
pushed along an assembly line
You heard a chorus cry !

Look ! The bitch is already inviting !

You

look at the dish ,you are about to yield,
she smiled , as she gestured -

A salsaed pelvic thrust

“Now !
Here’s the truth , partially revealed” !

You moan as you see
she had mixed red wine sorbeth
with black opiate sauce
and
moisturised it into thin air,
to start your agonising parody

And time, it stood still .

You slowly gyrate to the beat
of an insaneful pantomime
that white moon rose
and
took the chorus to a crescendo,
pounding blood
mingled with fear & perfumed sweat




“Sweet sensation give me more wine”

And , time will find its insane will, disposable sun shine?

She urged, closer she surged,
you smiled not knowing why ,
you give in to your irresistable concubine.

Soon you started to revel & as she stifled a scream
And
‘it’
passed taking you past a séance
of crimson colored cream
invariably you glanced
at events behind
quickly turn past ,past the present ,
as you muse to yourself ,
isn’t that the only colour of the mind?

She whispers in your ear ,as if reading your mind,”

You are always in the past
So revel without a cause, Isn’t that the only present ?”
You think,
And

time ?
it still stood still

It was then you heard the ‘siren’
you peep,
you see a bleak torch right behind -

Amidst the chaos you hear a cry !

Come! You pantomime son of a bitch !
You know not why ,you laugh
You know not why, you cry
Now you ask me why ?”
Said she
As she flashed a plastic bottle of port wine !

“You sons & daughters from a revealed heaven,
get drunk to your present , and jerk to your past
for that’s the only ‘mind’
You are allowed to know
that’s the only mind
you will ever know


‘life Is a pantomime fuck , a son of an indulgent witch!

So revel , revel without a cause
and she will reveal
with just a little pause
before finally hissing
isn’t life a long menopause ? you helplessly laugh
And time , it continued to stand still …


Sriram


Dedicated to ‘K’ , ‘S’ & Fly .,

inter alia

Inter alia


Listen , I’m no
Moralist, nor am I a
Fundamentalist

In fact for
Better
Or for
Worse
I suffer no wishlist


But, then if u think
I am a republican
stink

Let me refuse
I am neither a
Democratic
Sphinx

Well?

I think the whole
Actually
Is on a roll

Believe me


The Whole by its roll

Is surely

Focused

To give us back

Our lost

Central role


Sriram

hmmm...muse more

Hmmmm !

“Musings” ! I was averred once –
just as I was hurrying , with a bunch of them ,
clutched –

“Are better kept cupped , better closeted” .

Sagely , I remember , this well wisher ,
had continued ,“it’s a Pandora’s burden –
my friend, best left forgotten”.

“Lock , stock and barrel” – he gestured , as I stood
rooted there listening , in trance - numb .

Though continuing to clutch ,
his object of complaint – with more life ,

All four fingers and white thumb!

“No, don’t ever let the devil Cast
even a germ of a doubt and aspersion
– don’t ever think
what if ?”

“Let will not Will”

“Please , he pleaded

Not even when you feel , sick
And ill , or driven up the hill” .

“Alone , it better exist
Alone let it cease” – he had concluded .

As he patted my back
Smiled his warm smile
And briskly sped on his
Shaky old bicycle .

I mused , and , continued
The seed of doubt was gnawing


It was an itch , a , terrible
Terrible itch –

An irresistible calling , my
White thumb grew whiter still
The clutch in hand , seemed
Totally imapatient

I looked around
desperate

In this dark valley
pray who will share my burden ?



Sriram

random bull 2

End of monarchy was probably the greatest test of modern human civilisational progress – combined by the might of conflicting Socio – Political, Socio Economic , Socio – Socio thoughts the world of the swingin 50’s and 60’s were not as Black & White as the films made then; It was probably the most difficult period of Human Civilisation - wars weren’t natural, women stopped being submissive, nationalism along with Elliot became rootless, god was dead and men stopped exhibiting dicks to the most submissive bidder – but if you had the passion , you could use films to display your prominent index finger up north.

Random bull 2

End of monarchy was probably the greatest test of modern human civilisational progress – combined by the might of conflicting Socio – Political, Socio Economic , Socio – Socio thoughts the world of the swingin 50’s and 60’s were not as Black & White as the films made then; It was probably the most difficult period of Human Civilisation - wars weren’t natural, women stopped being submissive, nationalism along with Elliot became rootless, god was dead and men stopped exhibiting dicks to the most submissive bidder – but if you had the passion , you could use films to display your prominent index finger up north.

i was observing them

I was observing them
Donne , Dryden, Keats
& Shelley

In an animated axis

‘Y’ was there body
‘X’ was the facial angle

Nobody spoke

The noise of the boeing
Marginally Screwed
Their expressions

But, once it landed
It actually made them bright -

So what if ?

We aren’t nature ?
Nature isn’t we ?

So whats is good ?
Whats evil ?

Vengeance may still
Be ‘his’

We on earth may yet find
It impossible to destroy

But, the company
BELIEVED

There’s relief
In destruction .


Sriram

Hijab

Hijab

Those eyes refused penetration,
no trespassing they said – firm.

Those eyes – they only seemed
firm .

Those eyes,
they were wet
oscillating
avoiding
insinuating –
searching , fleeting
every part
of ether ,
except those
that had humans -
except those -
that had
desire.

Those eyes ,
those desires.

Those eyes
they seemed
to have learnt
to respond
to ordains
primordial;
respond to
unknown tribulations

Those eyes, those veils
they had unknown potentials,
and, yet seemed
so much against the very
essence of
eyes.


Those eyes,
they seemed conditioned to avoid
they were sworn – to be void
despite they being the only visible
part of her anatomy – and yeah they knew
they held magic .

And yeah
those eyes
they knew
they could also be tragic.

One look . That’s it?

All for god, all for religion, all
For what ?


Those eyes ,
they seemed to have an expertise
all their own , the more keen you
look , ( you seek , you explore )
the more elusive
they seemed .

Those eyes,
they too seek
they too yearn
they too thirst
for that one long
deep look.

They do –
unknown to others
quietly
softly
quickly
breathlessly.

Those eyes.

Those veils.

Those eyes, those veils
they were past masters
at the game – they suggested they loved to
favor nothing but the void .

Those eyes, those veils
those oaths of hypocrisy.


Those eyes, those veils
you yearned
just to arrest them (if not to own them )
the more you tried to catch them
the more elusively they managed -
to remain elusive.

Those eyes ,
they were
veil behind veils
lust behind lust
magic behind magic
leash behind leash
embattling

divinity
dignity
birth
rights
death.

Freedom


What is it about veils
that refuses unveil?


Bah ! Their promise of
hidden beauty .

Beauty behind beauty?
Bah.

Those veils ,
were like the secret
transvestite.

Afraid to reveal
afraid to hide
afraid to roam
afraid .


Those eyes , those veils
those leashed wants –
so much they themselves
yearned – for anarchy,
for free , mad, insane nudity .

Those eyes,
they knew they had the expertise.

To tantalize voyeurism
taunt taunt taunt
Sigh !

Those eyes.
those veils .


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sriram
7th Sep’08
Mahindra Hills
Sec’bad


Brief

Ref. The Hindu Dtd. Sunday literary Review
Pg 3 , ‘To Veil or not to Veil’
The Veil: Women Writers on its History , Lore, and Politics .- By Jennifer Heath , University Of California Press, 2008.

Hamlet

Hamlet


The woods kept moving away from me
the witches were nowhere behind .

It’s the ghost who kept me company ,
like I , mine .

Who am I ?
What am I ?

Who’s he?
What’ s he?

Who are they ?
What are they ?

What is real ? and what is
What ?

If

Only If

They Knew , I knew ,
That I never knew , they never knew ?

I kept working

Slow

As would slow


Sriram

Brownie

Brownie


There

I am

Tossed , turned

motionless

Blind as a
Flying bat

Welcome to the container
My neighbour , howled ,
As she got bombarded

And I watched , Her

Going {unwillingly}

Smithereens

Beautiful?

they will decide

Was the Echo

lost


He he he

But ,

you have a future

the mathematicians are at work

Sriramus Descartus

Atomus Didactus

Atomus Didactus
1.0
“Want To Play A Role”
.
.
.
“A Dream Role”
…
1.1.0

Dream Roles , Evolve …
You
.
.
.
Evolve .

1.1.1
You , Evolve
You Will Lead .
.
.
.

You Lead ,
.
.
.

Others , Evolve .
.
.
.
.
2.0
'A Movelution’ .



2.1.0

To Be A
Facilatator, Contributor ,
Mentor, Director ,
Nurturer , Developer ,
Monitor
Leader .
.
.
.

3.1.0
A Self Development Treatise .
[Let Your Internal Processes Inculcate Exactly Similar Values ]
.
.
.

“Your Processes & Systems Should Have ‘The Exact Synergies’
To Enable
“You
To
Play The Role” .
.
.
.



4.1.0
.
.
.

Play The Role !
.
.
.
.

To Play The Role You Have To Achieve
To Achieve
You Have To Acquire
To Acquire You Have To Search
When You Search
You Should Learn
When You Learn You Should Know
When You Know
You Should Discriminate
When You Discriminate
You Should Stand Out
..
..
..
You Stand Out
.
.
.
You Lead
.
.
.

When You Lead
You Will Suffer
When You Suffer
You Will Learn
When You Learn You Will Know, When You Know
You Will Evolve
When You Evolve You Will Grow
When You Grow You Will Mature
When You Mature You Will Suffer When You Suffer You Will Learn When You
Learn You Will Know

5.1.0
You Know
You Will Age
&
You Age .
.
.

You Die .

6.1.0

You Are Dead

Let Your Legacy Live .

[Chorus ]

Play A Dream Role
To Play A Role …
U Need To Suffer … U Suffer … U Learn... U learn … U Suffer …U Suffer …U Lead …
...U Die .

Chathapuramusviswanathamussriramusdescartus!

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Im a stranger to myself, i half understand me while the other half keeps eluding me , like the dark side of the moon, you know 'it' exists, but chances are...

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why am i feeling so lonely tonite?

on this strange thing called history

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