Intellectual Prostitutes - Aha

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Just How Messed Up Can Someone Be ?

A software guy called me today from the land of whites, a land with no morals. He is one of the smartest and intelligent guys I have ever known and one of the very level headed people.

The conversation lasted for close to an hour, he had a recent bad experience with a female, and unlike other people who have been jilted, he spoke very calmly but in rage.

I was scared, there is not telling how these people reacts, there is no outlet, tears, or anything. I asked him to write his experience and send it to me. It is a catharsis of pain, I told him. He seemed hesitant, being a software guy all he had was Google skills or rather he was a google monkey  and he was candid to admit it.

But, I was insistent, I told him to write a single word and send it to me.

 “A single word, how do I get that”, he asked kind of with attention.

 It seems to have got him hooked. I racked my brains for some tricks to convince him after this. I told him to take fragments of conversations with the female and write one word after each sentence, then build up all those words and make a story.

Being a cricket junkie, I gave him an analog, each ball bowled is long or short, fast or slow from the perfect delivery, and there is always a flaw. Just look at the bad part of the conversation which you had with her and assiduously build on that to wrest out a single emotion.

A long silence .

Sitting in some god forsaken state in the US, I had no contact with him.

I will mail you, and ……….click.

True to his word, there landed a mail, and it is …………..very intense.

I am taking the liberty of sharing it; there are no names, no places, no identifiers at all, only the emotion remains!! and darn it just seems like a nice piece of fiction straight from a M&B  

Just How Messed Up Can Someone Be

You cannot handle emotions, they scare you.

Your parents bore you so you ran away from home. You choose to sit at the campus hostel for a week all alone without any strings attached because you are selfish. You never know the joy of giving for you have always taken.

I always thought there was a child, a golden child, within you, the way you spoke, the way you laughed and way you lapsed into a rare silence. Alas, it was not the child, it was the mean devil, for every action of yours is for your own benefit.

When you have extracted your pound of flesh, you just throw it away. The lowliest level of existence is you. Even the hooker on the road gives her body for money, but you abuse mind ....and discard it when it seeks reciprocation.

You choose to hide behind the veil of modesty, but you ride cross country hugging a stranger on a bike. When I asked you to come and meet me for an instant, you throw the gauntlet of modesty, and morality, can anyone get hypocritical than this?

From the hole at the top to the two in your bottom; there is nothing, just a big zero Your existence does not deserve to be acknowledged................ and I gave you.......... respect 

And as is the case with daaru....it got to your head.

I am going away from this place for ever. Your presence in life has bought only misery, and it will to all around you, good living and you are negatively correlated. I thought you were the best thing to happen in my life, Alas, how mistaken I was.

The creative visual of a dick sticking below a beer gut........on top of your face has become so sharp that I can even see the tear drop glistening on your eyes and the bald spot on your forehead meshed with your hair, wet with sweat and tears , and the crinkle on your nose which I loved so much , frozen in disgust.

A mind is a terrible thing to waste, to throw. If a hooker acts up you hit her physically...but you are one off case of slut.....you abuse the mind so the hurt has to be at the level of the mind……..at the soul.....

So I will resort to words…because they hurt...they do....and prayer helps...words and prayer... no man no machine can stop it.

The Testament says that every prayer is heard the Saints and the Sinners. There is no doubt in my mind who I what here, and I guess you know it too.

Who is there for you........ Oh Traveller ...??

 Now this one seems to be relating to me as I tried to snooze in the night!!

(Darn all things strike only while trying to snooze, except the snooze itself…)

This one is a very old song, from Guide, by SD Burman (vocals), music by brother RD.

Who is there for you…….. Oh traveler ……. Where will you go….
Have a fag and relax for a while …. Oh traveler……… When will you find this instant… ever again?

Gone are the days.... the days of love
The nights ………..are now the substance of only dreams
They have forsaken you…….. forgotten you…
All the memories of love... All the memories of hope......Are lost………
There is darkness all around…. 

Who is there for you…….. Oh traveler …….Where will you go….
Have a fag and relax for a while …. Oh traveler……… When will you find this instant… ever again?

Nobody awaits your return…No eyes search for you at all…
Nobody cringed at your hurt…no eyes shed any tears for you...
Who do you call as your own ..Who indeed? 

Who is there for you…….. Oh traveler …….Where will you go….
Have a fag and relax for a while …. Oh traveler……… When will you find this instant… ever again?

All the learned say….the world is just flowing water
The water has it all written in itself…..about everything..
Everybody…….. Can see it…everybody can feel it…but nobody can hold it….
There is nothing for you…….. Or for me….

Who is there for you…….. Oh traveler …….Where will you go….
Have a fag and relax for a while …. Oh traveler……… When will you find this instant… ever again?

If you are Happy and you Know it Clap your Hands

Kiddish , juvenile, nonsensical..................but its causality cannot be refuted, for I experienced it first hand, just some time back(about thirty minutes) .

The reasons for a big, colossal celebration popped up. My escape from this place has been under preparation for quite some time, but  all the routes it seemed were blocked, manned heavily by gatekeepers, or plain just not a route. God’s grace and my frantic praying coupled with involuntary fasting seem to have worked out, and I got an escape route, exactly the way I desired.(btw prayer works, it really does !! and isn't that a source for imminent misery to some !!)

After the final confirmation note, I decided to break the news of her son’s imminent escape from Alcatraz to Amma.

“ Tring ”, one ring down and  immediately I hear “Main Spiderman bol raha hoon”, the 3 year old niece of mine in India currently. She has big gender usage confusion, which is pretty evident!!

“Ok, Mr. Spiderman, you know I am very happy today”. The word happy seemed to be a cue, “If you are happy and you know it clap your hands…..clap clap, “singing merrily and on top of her voice, she dropped the phone and started dancing around, promptly forgetting about the me or the call. (I envy the short memories of kids; I really do, because there are a lot of things I would like to forget!!)

Hey why not I try it?! It helped that I had a hands free plugged in. So off I went, singing and clapping my hands prancing about my room in abandon. My son is mad, definitely mad, comes the chuckled response of my mother on the other end.” Madness is perceptual, madness is subjective, madness ……..is good” I reply back.

“You have a lot of brain, I know that, in classic Tamil came the reply, I guess you got it right?!

Hell, there are no secrets……….. None............. from your mothers or grandmothers……… Fathers and uncles maybe ……..but mothers have a tendency to read you like an open book with a highlighter run over it.


What plans for today then ? I dont know , I replied....

Just then Khan pops in heaving heavily laden bags and says, hey today is iftiar..... and I am making a feast don't have any plans for evening.

It couldn't get better it seems, even the gods seem to be conspiring to celebrate !!