Incessantly blind to the truth of amaranthine perfectness. Pulling cover over the uncomfortableness that each moment, as it is, is in its perfectness, as events, love, energy and life correlate to form each ecstatic emotion. And the capturing, preserving of this moment is what I find agony in, and what I should be finding agony in.

I wait to write. Meanwhile, ships rip the seas in which the dolphins swap their fins. Crazy ants go walkabout in the sub-Saharan Autralian leaves. Suns revolve, planets emerge, some guy on a wheelchair says that time expands.

We, lost mortals, playing with grains of sand on the cuckoo beach, whilst the ocean of us and I lies ahead, and we refuse to see.

Elephantian dreams shattering like expectations in realosphere. Where do you put your belief in? A question so radical in this world of the present, time.

I await to fly.

Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Next; change.

The class scapegoat representative to the student council was sweating it out in front of the 20 strong line. He was trying his best to look perfect, to be be the leader whom his kinsfolk, like me, right now standing behind him, are to follow. He was at what he did best – drum in the brute rhythm of the eight numbers, followed by a count-down, and a “next; change”, while demonstrating the perfect method to perform the physical exercises we are to perform. His female counterpart was doing the same, in front of her own 20 strong line. Physical Education class. Grade seven.

I remember that we never used to look forward to the first part of our PE classes. It involved a twenty minute long drudgery of going through seven to ten forms of stretching exercises, supposed to warm-up our bodies. Our PE teacher gave this pristine responsibility to the MSC (‘Member of Student Council’, also acronymed by kinder folk as ‘Mother of Stupid Children’), who took it up, the exchange now reminding me of a likeness to the colonised taking up the responsibilities the colonisers handed over to them – proud, exercising power, but ignorant of the fact that they were slaves being used to perform otherwise unattractive tasks to the whims of a self-established higher power.

The next part of the PE class is what everyone looked forward for. The PE teacher would come out with footballs and throw-balls. Kick-the-ball-around-and-sweat-in-the-devastatingly-hot-sun time.

Next; change.

Sometimes, our lifes are so simple. Its a simple next; change. Where we know what is the ‘next’, through lifelong brainwash and psychological feeding. We are made aware of what is the next, homogeneous inside the cartloads of information fed into our all time ill satiated minds. And ‘change’, its just a simple order, ordering us to move on to the seemingly undefined, but veritably quite pre-defined, next.

For people who are knowledgeable about the next, which is not an elite few, mind you, seeing that the whip-holders of the change constantly propagate the next, life is simple, easy, and non-chaotic. You can enjoy life in quite many ways – since the whip-holders define enjoyment and access to it, your abiding to their whims will definitely gain you privileged entry.

Its like a traffic light. Red, stop. Orange, fire engine. Green, go. Safe, non-chaotic, streamlined traffic. You are a perfect citizen.

But sometimes, life is not that simple. I wish it were never that simple. Where the ‘next’ is unknown, and the ‘change’ is not an order. Rather, the change is a dive deep into the unknown realms of the next. With trust centred not on an establishment, but your self. A steep dive into the dark cold exhilarating next, hand-in-hand with your beautiful self.

Because at one point in humanity, the hound was raped, and the heart slaved. It was from this point that self gave way to system, in the guise of selfishness giving way to selflessness. Every raped hound should come to think again, why?

And they will, oh rulers of the world, oh holders of the whip, oh dictators of the proletariat, oh Augustus of Rome, They will think again why. And that why will be powered by the love of the indomitable Spirit. That why will roll back the ages of education, which you indoctrinated in the name of your systems, and like a revolting ocean, made of the slew of individual waves which had their goings tough when you were the ocean, they shall lash the waters back against you, and ingest you, and love you. The hounds shall awake from the years of post traumatic stress following their rape. Beware, the light. And beware, the carriers of that light.

Next; change.

I was excited. I was at it for almost an hour now. I’m glad that my parents are in the other room. I wouldn’t want them to know that I was online for almost an hour! Dial up is so expensive! I hope it won’t show too much on the phone bill..

But its ok… Right now, its this moment that matters. This moment. I might be caught in lust, momentary infatuations.. Maybe I shouldn’t be doing it. But never mind, I can’t stop… Anyway I had done so much.. Why not do a little more and reach the.. end.. or the beginning..

I was excited. Every time the 56k connection lagged, I sighed, I prayed deeply to all Gods introduced to me by people around me. I was so close… so close..

And yesss! I was there! Wow! Amazing! For the first time… wow.. This is what I had always wanted to do.

I was excited. I called my best friend and comrade-in-action…

I was 11 years old.

I remember that time, when I was so excited. When I had made my first public online presence. With a huge URL which no one would know, or remember. Something like http://www.geocities.yahoo.com/geocities/users/….. And I had some ridiculous id, which I, then, thought was cool. Something like bwmo….. or something. But all that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that I was there, up there, on that huge being which I thought was so cool, which I wanted to get to know better, and conquer, which had become my latest companion, and my best friend in a world where I had none.

And it had all started with this service called Yahoo! GeoCities.

It has been a run since then. For almost half a year, racing with my friend to make the better website. Adding bouncing hippos, and falling snow, mouse overs, and colourful text.. It didn’t matter that no one knew about our ‘websites’. Did not matter that no one, but we ourselves, used or visited those ‘sites’. After two or three GeoCities websites, we moved on to other hosting firms, using software to make websites, as opposed to the web application, learning code, designing, making better websites, programming, making concept ideas for websites, designing and working on them, blogging..

But it all started with Yahoo! GeoCities. And I remember.

And my remembrance will it all be. Goodbye GeoCities. And thank you. For making my world for those many years. For making me live.

[For more information, visit Yahoo! Support Pages. If you want to see a website which was on GeoCities, visit the Internet Archive]

But what is respect? Or Respect?

Is it spending a moment of silence because of the death of someone close? Or is it being silent for a moment, or more, because you have nothing to say or speak or sound? Is it restraining yourself from blogging because a friend passed away? Or is it you had nothing to write, because a friend passed away?

Is it calling your father by a respectful name because you are expected and used to doing so? Or is it putting in your entire heart and body and soul and love into calling that name, because it means so much?

Is it fearing the powers of nature? Or is it loving Her, and being humble, before Her who is so humble?

Is it being humble? Or is it humbled?

Is it setting aside something you so wanted to do for somebody else.. Or is it not feeling like doing something you so wanted to do, for somebody else?

More questions that I put before you, my Love.

And while you’re at it, please also try to explain through life, what is love? Is it like artificial intelligence where the program is programmed to behave in every possible imaginable event is termed as intelligence itself? Or is it like intelligence, that which is unexplained and infinite?

Love you.

Its not a simple mmm. Its an mmmmm which comes from deep inside – from the very bottom of my lungs. It comes out very deep, like the end three quarters of ‘Om’.

Today, I commented on a dear friend’s blog, and though I loved the post so much, and was very moved by it, all I could say was “Mmmmm”.

And I’m so very comfortable doing it. The first few times I did it, it was like I always wanted to do it. It was like finding a friend who was I was so close to in a past life of mine.

Wow. How things can change… And how it escapes you… Ironically ridiculous, when I think that just three weeks back, my every prayer, and my every hope yearned that I am in control of my change.

I’ve started letting go. Of so many things. Things which I would have held on to, dearer than life, if  were a few thousand miles away, in that place I call home. I find peace by connecting to the Self. I almost don’t cry anymore. I give a hug to myself, console my self, counsel my self, forgive my self… Its a whole sociosystem right inside me – so many people running around…

I’ve been trying extremely hard to give space to others. Because often, I’ve found myself way too dominating. Should have been more careful. Because now, I find that I cannot make that space for my self myself; I have to be offered. How pathetic.

I don’t talk anymore. I cannot talk if I’m not being genuine. And I can’t be genuine if I don’t talk.

The things going on right now would have bowled me over, a few weeks back. But its so easy here, to get bowled over again and again deep inside, and not let a single soul outside know an iota about it.

And after all this, oommmmmmmmmm, and everything’s alright. Everything is in the picture. Everything I see, is the way, because thats the only way it can be. Peace.

One day, she did not know whether she was awake, or dreaming.

It was horrible. Some things were pulling at her wings, making it hurt excruciatingly. She screamed, and cried, and after a while, she became numb. The pulling continued. They ripped her wings apart, little by little, making it pain, more and more.

Mmmm… Aaaah. The beautiful pain. The pain which is beauty. The pain which gave a comfort. An orgasmic pleasure.

They pulled, and ripped, and burnt and hurt.

She cried, through her numbness.

“Don’t worry,” they said, “Maybe you’ll grow prettier wings!” And they smiled. Showing all their teeth.

And they continued tearing her wings apart. One by one, they tore at her. Poked needles into her. Raped her. Burnt her. Bit her. Ate her. Scratched at her wounds. And hurt her more. And applied chemicals to not stop the bleeding, and increase pain. Little by little, they edged through her beautiful wings.

“But..” She said, “But… I had beautiful wings…”

She had. Not anymore. Not anymore…

*

The ideology of chances is bullshit. The moment you make a choice, your life alters into an irreversible unique path. You have no choice but to traverse it. And you have no chances.

It led to an expected, but convincement challenging companion. A companion, who would be with you for the next ten months. Ten months of… misery; pain; uncomfort; bearing; sacrificing; developing; happiness; love.

Something is growing within you. A new life. How wonderful that we are capable of making new life. That is indeed the  greatest creation humans are capable of.

In those ten months, every twitch and turn of yours modifies the growing life in drastic ways. The new life’s karma decides how you twitch, how you turn, so as to mould a human fitting the equation to the dot.

Meanwhile, during those months, every twitch and turn of the growth incites you with passion, care, and love. You are happy when you feel its leg softly caressing your belly in a cotton’s kick. Ah!

Those ten months. Mmm.

Every parent wishes for a baby who is better than her/him. Someone who will carry forward their name. Someone who will stand up to the test that time throws at them. Someone who is beautiful. Someone about whom, you can stand up and proudly announce, “Thats my child!” Someone who is moulded exactly like you, except without those few hollies hither and tither. And with a few more positive traits as well.

But poetry is only poetry, nothing more, nothing less.

The baby is a product of her/his karma, not of her/his parents’ desires. Thus the baby grows in her/his way, despite the parent’s influence.And finally, when the baby is born, the parents are eager for her/him to grow up. To see what (s)he is like. Does (s)he look like me? Does (s)he have my nose? And finally when the child does grow up, lets just hope its a child of their dreams, shall we…

*

Ineterstingly, I’m pregnant. I have to go through this for ten months. And I wonder… I wonder what kind of baby I’m going to have. Better than me? Worse than me? Better how? Worse how? Will my ‘friends’ accept her/him. Why would they?

Would (s)he be able to do the work I’m doing today? To complete it?

I’m scared. I’m anxious. Just like any other parent.

Ten months… Ten months, which can either be made special and beautiful, or horribly killing self-esteem.

The only little difference is that, the child and the parent, both, am I.

Thank you, oh Love, for bringing WT back up.

* * *

Contemplations on slavery – part I

(Disclaimer: there never might be a part II, or part III, or et cetera)

The phenomenon of slavery is indeed an interesting one. It is captivating the way Master-slave relationships are established. It is of my observation that the phenomenon of slavery, which requires two power apexes, that of the Master and that of the slave, may start at the tipping of the fulcrum to any one end. That is, a Master-slave relationship does not require two parties, but it can start with just one party tipping against the fulcrum to form a power apex. Once either of the apexes have been formed, it just a matter of time when the newly formed apex results in the other apex being formed. Once both the apexes have been formed, and the relationship established, it is curious to examine the character of the relationship, and of the apexes in the relationship.

The slave, intriguingly, tends to be cutaneously happy occupying the particular space. (s)he also tends to be in the inertia, and increasingly try to continue in that space, until (s)he is made aware of the existence of such a phenomenon, and the characteristics of the concerned spaces. In this state, the slave not only contributes to the maintaining of the system, but also to the strengthening of it, by contributing hitherto unsaid clauses to the relationship. (s)he also gives confidence to, and thereby builds, the Master. Later, (s)he becomes aware of the existence of the phenomenon. Then (s)he has to realise the space that (s)he and the other apex occupy. Once this realisation sets in, a period of unease, confusion, and lack of clarity begins. During this period (s)he tries to break out from the space, but finds it increasingly difficult by each passing day.

The master tends to be happy being the Master. (S)he does not realise the existence of the phenomenon as easily as the slave, and once that happens, it is much more difficult, than the initial process, and than the slave, for the Master to realise the space occupied by her/him. Once that happens, it is my belief that the Master may be unconsciously uncomfortable, but consciously battles that discomfort to continue experiencing the material, sadistic, and fetish pleasures offered by Masterhood.

The slave tries to break out of the relationship, after the onset of realisation, and the Master tries all methods available to Masterkind to maintain the state of continuum. At certain points, the slave tries to be empowered, yet a pseudo-slave – a slave who addresses the Master’s wishes, but against her/his own will. It is my observation that this state is increasingly irritating and uncomfortable for the Master, who exists is put in a state of extreme fidgetiness.

Finally, the slave, once empowered enough, finds enough in her/himself to assert, and then the structure breaks apart. If the Master is also empowered, then the two apexes reduce to their initial states of potentials, and continue with their lives in sustainably developing ways. However, if the Master is not empowered, then (s)he continues her conquest of slaves, with another victim, treacherously beaten into shape using devious means and cunning ways. This deadly conquest, raping one heart/mind after the other, continues. However, remember, that only by being raped were the hearts/minds later empowered.

If it is only the Master who is empowered, and not the slave, then again exists an issue. After complete empowerment of the Master, and once (s)he reduces to the state of original potency, (s)he lets go of the slave. But the slave is not empowered. The slave feels incomplete, and starts her/his journey for a new Master.

It is also my belief that the empowerment of a slave will in very very less probability lead to the empowerment of a Master. However, the empowerment of a Master influences the empowerment of the slave in slightly more determinal magnitudes.

Here concludes part I of my contemplations on slavery, chronicled from personal experiences. Thank you for reading.

I am glad you are not here today,you would have been pretty screwed cause some father is so perverted.

Interesting and intriguing.

Context : Gearing for some (personal?) vengeance, a Father of the esteemed sacred reverend University, as mentioned earlier in this blog, and one which we all know, ordered the tearing down of 100+ posters in campus because it had the highly unsacred unesteemed unreverend and “cheap” grafitti of a heart, next to the word love. He (the capitalisation of the alphabet here not because of respect, but purely because proper grammar demands it) did not take into consideration that the poster was simply advocating love, as in humanly love, love love love, and not what is referred to by his kind as the ‘unsacred’ and ‘uncultured’ love between two individuals of the opposite sex, or even (gasp! heaven forbid!) between two individuals of the same sex. (not that I wouldn’t advocate this so called ‘uncultured love’, but you know what I mean…)

Oh, missing link… I designed the poster…

Coming back to the context, the line next to which the heart appeared was advocating (wait for it…) the love between (hem hem) a human and (*drumroll* please)…..

A plant.

Yes.

The so called betrayal of the <let me not use the Lord’s name in vain here> University Culture (yes, its a proper noun now) happened to be a peach grafitti heart, termed as cute and attractive by many a person, almost 1/3rd an inch big, in an A3 size paper (12 inches by 18 inches).

And why was it offending? The answer led to one of those long paradoxical and philosophical bureaucratic answers of no return, with no seeming logic, path, or reason. “Management policies.”

!!! I don’t believe this! I’ve heard that the Chinese (no offense my Chinese friends, just a compliment here!) plan for everything, right down to the emergency plan for an earthquake during something as small as a birthday party, but I’m willing to bet that even they wouldn’t have planned on what to do in a university in a student happened to design a poster with a minsicule peach heart on it (lets just assume that whoever faced with such a situation becomes as less-than-a-nut brained), and incidently got it approved by higher authorities and put it up on campus. Come on yo dude-in-white, show me the rule book which looks like

<The Lord’s name shall not be used in vain!> University Campus Regulation Policies Handbook 2009

3.2 In case a student happens to design a poster with an almost invisible peach heart, and got it approved by higher authorities, and put it up in and around campus (‘campus’ here defined as in the definition given in Section 1.1 in Rulebook 2008), then

et cetera et cetera…

Dude! Get a heart! Oops, did I just say that! Sorry… Slip of my tongue. Or fingers (on a vaio keyboard – I’m used to a Compaq).

But anyway, lets go away from these minute formalities of expression, and look at the ‘higher’ picture. The officially-unsaid, yet informally-said, reason is that the ‘Father’ (REPEAT : (the capitalisation of the alphabet here not because of respect, but purely because proper grammar demands it) concerned deems that the deemed univerisity’s campus should have no such instances of ‘cheap love’.

Tch tch tch. Sad… Especially looking at “Core Value” #3 of the ‘University

(Love of Fellow Beings)

Blow me down! Did fellow beings, then, mean martians, stalactites, and stalagmites?

Going on a slightly more spiritual note, during a conversation with M recently, we happened to discuss the goings on in the world, and this ‘University’ concerned. He did make some prophetic statements.

In a gist, he lamented on what was happening in the name of the Lord. This ‘University’, which (without permission, I might add) borrowed, or rather used, the name of the Lord, to carry forth their seemingly ‘holy’ pursuits, punctured tastefuly for a few (or rather, a lot of) ‘unholy’ pursuits, is crossing the line a bit too many times in recent ages.

Me belonging to a different belief system altogether had almost no knowledge of the Lord that M talked about, but since all religions spoke of the same basic things, we could say that we believed in the same things, though not the same Lord (and in my case, no Lord, just God, for I believe that God wouldn’t lord over others…).

M went on to say that this Lord was a very powerful Lord. But He was also merciful. Quite merciful. But at some point of time, after a bit too many toes out of line, and bit too many heads out of honesty, the mercy ends, and overt exhibitions of power begins.

And this message, I throw at you, dear men-in-white… Beware.

There endeth the lesson.

What’s wrong with the world mama?
People living like aint got no mamas
I think the whole worlds addicted to the drama
Only attracted to the things that bring you trauma
Overseas yeah we tryin to stop terrorism
But we still got terrorists here livin
In the USA the big CIA the Bloodz and the Crips and the KKK
But if you only have love for your own race
Then you only leave space to discriminate
And to discriminate only generates hate
And if you hatin you’re bound to get irate
Yeah madness is what you demonstrate
And that’s exactly how anger works and operates
You gotta have love just to set it straight
Take control of your mind and meditate
Let your soul gravitate to the love y’all

People killing people dying
Children hurtin you hear them crying
Can you practice what you preach
Would you turn the other cheek?
Father Father Father help us
Send some guidance from above
Cause people got me got me questioning
Where is the love?(where is the lovex3)(the love2x)

It just ain’t the same all ways have changed
New days are strange is the world the insane?
If love and peace so strong
Why are there pieces of love that don’t belong
Nations dropping bombs
Chemical gases filling lungs of little ones
With ongoing suffering
As the youth die young
So ask yourself is the loving really strong?
So I can ask myself really what is going wrong
With this world that we living in
People keep on giving in
Makin wrong decisions
Only visions of them livin and
Not respecting each other
Deny thy brother
The wars’ going on but the reasons’ undercover
The truth is kept secret
Swept under the rug
If you never know truth
Then you never know love
Where’s the love y’all?(I don’t know)
Where’s the truth y’all?(I don’t know)
Where’s the love y’all?

People killing people dying
Children hurtin you hear them crying
Can practice what you preach
Would you turn the other cheek?
Father father father help us
Send some guidance from above
Cause people got me got me questioning
Where is the love?(where is the lovex3)(the lovex2)

I feel the weight of the world on my shoulder
As I’m getting older y’all people get colder
Most of us only care about money makin
Selfishness got us followin the wrong direction
Wrong information always shown by the media
Negative images is the main criteria
Infecting their young minds faster than bacteria
Kids wanna act like what the see in the cinema
Whatever happened to the values of humanity
Whatever happened to the fairness and equality
Instead of spreading love, we’re spreading anomosity
Lack of understanding, leading us away from unity
That’s the reason why sometimes I’m feeling under
That’s the reason why sometimes I’m feeling down
It’s no wonder why sometimes I’m feeling under
I gotta keep my faith alive, until love is found

People killing people dying
Children hurtin you hear them crying
Can you practice what you preach
Would you turn the other cheek?
Father Father Father help us
Send some guidance from above
Cause people got me got me questioning
Where is the love?(fade)

Where is the love by Black Eyed Peas

Life makes you a student, through and through.

A student of life. Trying to find. Trying to uncover. Trying to learn why its covered. And why uncover.

Trying to detach. Trying to uncover without hopes or expectations. Trying to find, without curiousity. Trying to transcend ‘reality’. The maya of ‘reality’.

Life makes you a student. Through and through. Within and without. Being, and being not. With I am, and I am not. With love and detachment on the same plate. Sadly, with intimacy and repulse as twin sisters produced by fate.

And with understanding and transcendment, following hurt.

A student…