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