tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39712618073389596572024-03-13T09:04:12.589+05:30DReaMz . ReaL!TY ~ WhaTeVeRThey say, never rekindle an old flame. They forgot to mention what to do with one that doesn't seem to die. Rajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14521949812576502731noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971261807338959657.post-35617836667697752252020-07-08T17:51:00.001+05:302020-07-08T17:51:26.035+05:30Goodbye<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGpiOxj5w0n2ilu3C83nz0nnpqaHLPiqfOqPkBlBSns2btHA0T_rJbgD_ctf3McivGC55cmk70xi5jzXfkm5VQ6EywMZJ2gGKMsAC3S1qzbroulQU1NVrx5F2ONM9fI63iWCqKu27tP6s/s1200/D3LYzloWkAMO_T_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1003" data-original-width="1200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGpiOxj5w0n2ilu3C83nz0nnpqaHLPiqfOqPkBlBSns2btHA0T_rJbgD_ctf3McivGC55cmk70xi5jzXfkm5VQ6EywMZJ2gGKMsAC3S1qzbroulQU1NVrx5F2ONM9fI63iWCqKu27tP6s/s320/D3LYzloWkAMO_T_.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>It’s not over.<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Of course, it is over. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Let me get some help!<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">No, stay. I would hate to die alone. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">You aren’t going to die. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But I already have. I can feel it. You know I can’t feel my limbs,
right?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Stop talking. Save your energy. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I would rather not. These are my last few moments with you
and I thought I should say thank you. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">You don’t need to. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I want to. What you did, for so long. It couldn’t have been
easy. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It wasn’t. But every now and then you would do something. Something
ridiculous and stupid and put yourself in harm’s way for the greater good. And I
would want to keep doing it. Because it was the right thing to do. I merely
always followed you. To protect you. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">You didn’t need to. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">That is where you are wrong. I did. I had to. I had to
protect you because you protected me. And I have failed. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">No, you haven’t. What I wanted is done. My time is over. My goal
is reached. I can end now. I can be at peace now. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And what about me?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">You live, for the two of us. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">That would be a boring existence. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Find a woman, that should help. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Like you did? What am I going to say to her now? That I failed?
<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">No buddy. You are going to tell her we won. But that, as
always there is a price to pay. I am the price. <o:p></o:p></p>Rajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14521949812576502731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971261807338959657.post-2463783046340820332020-06-08T21:07:00.002+05:302020-06-08T21:16:05.799+05:30Breakable<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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If it can be broken, break it...Such has always been the rule of
life. Or so he thought. He stood before the broken mirror in the darkness
admiring what he could not see. He had always liked the dark. It had a way of engulfing
him, making him feel secure. If there was ever such a thing as security. He had
never quite known it. He had been born to decent parents, good people with satisfactory
lives. He had watched them as he grew admiring, how they never seemed to get
angry. He though, he was something else. He had forever contained a rage inside
him he did not quite understand. He remembered letting it out once in his
childhood. His parents had been horrified and he had to change schools. He also
had to talk to a buddy, someone who always asked him weird questions. He never
really cared to answer and after a ruckus one windy night the buddy stopped
coming. He remembered it was windy because he had locked his window. He could
hear the wind pounding against the glass as if saying, let me inside. I am your
true destiny. His parents tried to talk to him. After a couple of years, they
too gave up. His episode was over they thought and they were okay with this new
normal they seemed to have defined. He wasn’t a loving child really, but he had
his moments. Sometimes they would sit quietly outside on the porch, his father
having a beer, his mother weaving and he reading a book. He too mistakenly
thought the rage had gone. He could feel it, always, but he could ignore it. Keeping
it at bay felt right.<br />
Till it didn’t. As he grew older,
it started twisting its way out. It took a different path every time
overwhelming him each time it did. It was like it had a life of its own and he
was merely a host. But he too had started liking the release. It was satiating
in a way nothing else was. He was also always thirsty, and it was draining. He sought
information. He sought knowledge. It could come from anywhere, books, the internet,
paintings even people sometimes. While he was with them, getting to know them,
he liked them. But the minute it got over something would come over him. And he
would be filled with rage again. Sometimes it was momentary, a shower or a
drive would calm him down. Sometimes it was easy, he could feel it but he could
also control it. He could ignore it even. He had started liking doing that too,
ignoring this galloping animal inside him. It gave him a feeling of being
powerful. But sometimes, it was painful. Physically. It stayed for weeks and
months and it just never left. In such episodes, it generally found a way. This
has always been a rule of the world he thought to himself; if one is stubborn
enough, one does find the way.<br />
He was in someone else’s house. He
knew they were not in since they worked with him. He was housekeeping for them.
It wasn’t something he did for people, being helpful but this couple he liked. They
made life easier for him. There was always someone like that. The world is full
of good people, people who you can watch and learn from. As much as he knew
despite the reading and the irrevocable thirst for knowledge, he could never
use it. He could never differentiate between right and wrong. He didn’t really
know what they were. He couldn’t feel them. All he could feel was what he
wanted to do. And what he wanted to do he generally always did. But they had
started cohabiting him, telling him what was right and what was not. He had not
minded it initially but now he wasn’t sure. He also wasn’t sure when his next
rage session was due. But it was coming, he could feel the pain hiding beneath the
surface biding time. There was something in this darkness, he knew. It was him.
He smiled at the light in the mirror. It was a reflection from the window. They
were coming home.</div>
</div>
Rajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14521949812576502731noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971261807338959657.post-44694337422248700892017-01-23T00:17:00.003+05:302017-01-23T00:17:43.721+05:30Pause.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This blog has been dead a while. Feel free to look around though. </div>
Rajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14521949812576502731noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971261807338959657.post-2602956632510545452015-02-24T01:36:00.003+05:302015-02-24T01:36:53.630+05:30The evangelina of pain<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Contrary to what most people believe, pain doesn't leave.</div>
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It just stays there.</div>
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And like it or not, you just get used to living with it.</div>
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I haven't felt pain. Not the pain of loss no. Not the pain of failure no. But every time, I have felt the pain of not succeeding. When you want something, when you desire, some good things happen, some not so good. The good things are that you grow fiery, you push harder, you live better. The bad thing is, every time you invest something somewhere you stand the chance to hurt yourself. And a few losses, can then put you down real bad. It takes their toll on you, trying to invest here and there. And so, at some point you stop dreaming. You just stop. And it just isn't the same anymore. </div>
</div>
Rajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14521949812576502731noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971261807338959657.post-35264298567999750592014-11-03T21:13:00.002+05:302014-11-03T21:13:22.883+05:30Camping at Balicha<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Imagine waking up in a tent. Or better still, not sleeping at all. Imagine sitting around a fire with almost strangers you had met less than half a year ago and letting your heart out. Imagine bliss, the kind an MBA college can't really serve but just did. Such was that night at the new campus at Balicha.<br />
<br />
It started quite innocently, with two travelers (vivek and anupam) wanting to do something more. New campus, we might never go there they thought. But then its on our list they claimed. We have to do this. So do they did. And royal it was. A form was floated, fellow dreamers were amassed and atop their colorful rides (pulsars) and their mighty Bullet they sped through. As they saw the highway in a distance, on Que the accelerators were pumped. Poor people had to turn back and take a U-turn before they could touch it though. Some cursed but then you can't really have everything can you? Atop a hill, the tents were pitched. Little did they know, most of them would lie abandoned the entire night.<br />
<br />
Fire we need fire one claimed. So the 'Fire God' was called upon, sacrifices were made (wood of course!) and there they had it. Like an old mustang that had just been fired, it popped and choked giving in to the wind. The sun bade goodbye shaking its head, praying for the few. A few early stars chuckled and smirked at their misery. Eventually though it crackled and danced. The wind which had torn them apart now fueled it and there it was at last. As it burned through the splinters, they realized they didn't have enough for the entire night. Two brave warriors (Arpit and Mayank) picked up their swords and shields and bellowed, leave that to us. So they set out in search of glory. When they came back battered and bruised but with more wood than the night oil could burn, a feast was called upon. Barbecue. Oh yeah baby, we did that too. It was ironical that the splendid warriors were vegetarians but feast it was. Right after dinner was served. There was laughter and then there was light banter for company, the kind not in classrooms but right outside.Then the General(Joel) blew the trumpet. Silence he claimed. What happened after that, isn't something words can capture. That I refuse to enunciate, for to do justice to it one has to be more than a word wizard. You shall have to find that out for yourself. Or wait find isn't the word, lets go with experience.<br />
<br />
As he bade us goodnight and retired into his tent, the night was theirs. Action, they claimed. Whereas some lay watching the stars, capturing the moon in its pristine glory smiling down at her new found friends some settled around the fire one master blacksmith (keshav) feeding it claiming the fire would stay alive all night. Then stories were shared, experiences the kind one can't talk about on campus. Love stories, with a little more love and little less story. Love stories with more stories than love. Heartbreak, then remake. As everyone shared their experiences, the girls cheered them on and joined in (Janet especially then Rash and Priyanka) . Then they moved on to Ghosts, spirits and sightings. To believe or not to believe; who knows? Throughout they talked, they laughed.<br />
<br />
At four they were hungry again. That was the turn of two more among them to shine (hitarth, vipul) as they walked into the wilderness, this time in search of fodder. Daal Bhaati Churam, a traditional Rajasthani dish was on the cards. So food it was and they sat around the fire drinking coke (just coke) and hogging the churma one couldn't help but realize how lucky one was to have this. Although promises were made on coming back, who knows?<br />
<br />
The morning brought serenity and sunshine, the beauty of the mountains, the vast area ahead (more grass than road) which was to be, IIM Udaipur, Balicha campus. Everyone ran around, some into the valley, some onto the other hills and some just waited for the sunrise. But when the sun rose, everyone gasped it was prettier than they had imagined, The orange of the sun peeking from behind a mountain has a different feeling altogether. Not that the mountains weren't pretty, they did take your breath away, but the sunrise oh, it made you feel alive and real again.<br />
<br />
As they packed promising to return, to buy tents to do better next time they all prayed. We all smiled and we all hoped this wouldn't be the last. But everyone was grateful. For life, for the juvenile eloquence, for the mystery. Let's do this again sometime. <br />
<br />
Cheers. </div>
Rajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14521949812576502731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971261807338959657.post-22535585853711770652013-08-24T06:52:00.001+05:302013-08-24T07:47:54.926+05:30Werewolves_Dream Catcher<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Tonight, he could feel a certain pull. One trying to separate
him from his body as if he didn’t belong there.
As if all he wanted was freedom from the barriers of movement and
limitations that the classic human body showcases. He could sense the master sitting
beside him saying a prayer. A set of periodic and constant shudders constantly greeted him. To an extent it was the only physical feeling he had. Beyond it, there was a remarkable peace. An emptiness so calm in its approach it was like breathing. Except that, rather than fill you with life, it would suck everything out like what one calls gravity. A black hole that seemed to be pulling
him. But there was something in the way. Something that countered the pull
dampening it into a strong wind. the kind you enjoy walking in. Such was the pull of its reassurance that knowing it was pure evil he wanted to walk towards it. He tried to take a step forward but someone wouldn't have it. His feet were stuck. They
wouldn't budge in that particular direction. That was surprising. He tried to jump and managed it easily. He tried to jump forward but that wouldn't happen. So he jumped towards the side. Aah that was fun. It was like floating. He
tried to walk in front again but that dint happen. He turned and his feet responded.
It was like he was a puppet with a mind of his own. Just that the control he should have had over
his body wasn't as thorough as generally is. He was allowed to have a mind to convey it through to his body but he couldn't execute it. He turned and walked
back towards the house. When had he even stepped out? Where was he? What was he
doing? And what happened to that fatality of a creature that was claiming
impending doom? Was this it? He looked at the black hole one last time and thought. Its just too frail. He wasn't going
down without a fight. He turned and in the second that followed was devastated. The serenity had broken. And in its place was the heavy shuddering again. And the prayers. His master was still praying. And his feet. They were revolting. He woke up
bewildered. The master was giving thanks in his prayers. Tiny was bombarding a
wall. And there was a tingling sensation on his feet as a cool liquid
dripped from his toes to his heel. He relaxed and closed his eyes again. when he tried to open his eyes again, such was the pain in his head that he had to succumb to it. But his feet were cool. The
coolness felt good. It started at his feet and drifted into his entire body step by step as feeling returned to him. He could move again. The pain in his head was subsiding. The dream came back to him and things started to make sense again. He
tried to pull his legs up to his chest but a firm grip on his feet stopped him. He opened his eyes to see what it was. That’s when he saw her. Jade. And she looked lovely as always. Her hands were holding his ugly feet feeding them what must have been one of her famous concoctions. She
was kneeling on the floor lightly scrubbing his feet. The warmth of her hands calmed him down and he silently remarked to himself how he had been so ignorant of everyone lately. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Get up from there. You don’t belong there. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">She raised an eyebrow and stopped whatever it was she was
doing. It was then that the master spoke up again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Are you all right?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I have my master at my side, a friend in the vicinity and a
ridiculously pretty lady at my feet. Why wouldn't I be?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Do you remember anything?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I want to say yes, but somehow I think I can safely deem that impossible and deposit my fears in you by asking, what the hell was that? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">So you don’t remember it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Of course I do. There was a creature. One who wanted to slay me but wouldn't. He had however some werewolves with him. He was frail and leniently gentle. But there was something very wrong about him. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Murloc. What did he do to you</span>?<br />
Nothing. He wanted me to join him in his entourage. I negated.<br />
Then what did he do.<br />
He threatened me. I prepared for a fight. And within a flash he was gone saying he would be back. And then....</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Go on?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">And then i was here, but not exactly here. I could hear your prayers and his grunts but no more. Then all of a sudden there was this calm. A divine calling from what was something like a black hole. Part of me wanted to walk towards it but something wouldn't let me. It was like my feet were tied. Presumably by this pretty lady. </span><br />
Explain the pull of the black hole. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">It was there all right, but it was faint. As if it didn't quite want me but would be glad to have me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">That pull is what is called the dream catcher.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Dream catcher?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Yes. When we sleep our souls tend to walk out of the body
into the astral plane. </span><br />
So why is this the first time I felt it?<br />
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">You didn't feel it the first time. You just remember it this time. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">So when we walk into that new dimension, is it dangerous?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Not really. See there</span> is something like a silver cord that binds you to your soul. And as long as the cord is intact, nothing can stop it from coming back. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">And if the cord breaks?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">The cord cannot just break. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">And what if anything happens to the soul?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">The soul can get corrupted. When it does, if in a fit of
hysteria it may aim at a self destruct by severing the cord, thus rendering itself a life beyond this dimension. Essentially, when the body dies something similar happens except that then, you have the permission to move on from the astral plane to the afterlife.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
And if the body isn't dead?<br />
The body will age and decompose. But the soul will never die. It will be stuck in the astral plane forever seeking another body to move into.<br />
Demons. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not always.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">But without a soul what is a body?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">An empty vessel. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">That’s how possession occurs? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">No. You cannot be possessed when your soul is in the astral
plane. Only when it is not. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">So essentially, what happens?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">That's not important for now. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Tell me more about this pull.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Like I said, it was faint. I wanted to go check it out, out
of sheer curiosity of course. But of course she wouldn't let that happen. There was a pull but i think i didn't feel the sheer magnitude of it simply because she was protecting me. As things got
clearer in his head, he turned towards Jade who hadn't spoken a word till then
and said, I owe you my life don't you? She smiled an all
knowing smile at him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Don’t do that. You look too young to pull that off. At that
she laughed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Do you know what would have happened had you walked into that
hole? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Peaceful serene death in my sleep?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Your body would be trapped here. Your soul would be trapped
there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Which means?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Which means you wouldn't die, but you wouldn't live. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">He’s trying to make us one of his own.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">He has successfully made our entire army a pack of dummies.
Those we have recruited and those we haven’t yet. Every werewolf in the world
is in that spell. All that’s left of us is the people in the room and a few
others. It’s over.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">What are you talking about? A dream? How do you get stuck in a dream? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You don't get stuck in a dream, your soul does. There is a very basic and fragile relation between the body and the soul. Constrict it and you may end up not just dead, but stagnant. Caught in the midst of nothingness with nothing to do but wait. Wait for a bigger force to deal you a better pack of cards. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">A prison forever.</span><br />
<span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Yes. </span><br />
<span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I don’t get one thing. What was the relation between the
dream and the dream catcher? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">The dream was what the soul would see, the carriage, the
chance to serve him. It was the illusion created to confuse the soul into going
into the dream catcher. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">The chariot was the dream catcher. They just couldn't see it
because the illusion worked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Then how I could I see it for what it was?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">You blatantly walked out of it. And when you tried going
back, Jades potion stopped you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">So if she doesn't stop me, I can walk blatantly in?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Not now you can't. And even if you could, what good would that serve?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Something? </span>I mean I walked out once didn't I? And when I try to walk
in, wouldn't he want to be there?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Why would he?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Because that signifies the end. Would you rather run from a
war you have almost won or would you rather walk to the center of it to claim
victory by your own sheer hands? He may be immortal. I am not saying he is. I
am just saying he may be. But isn't he run by the same principles we are?
Pride? Whether it comes from a blasphemous ego or from the abeyance of a set of
principles? And if he is there, maybe I can fight him off?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">He paused waiting for them to say anything. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">You intend to fight that thing?</span><br />
Don't we have to? Regardless of intention?<br />
How do you fight something you can't see?<br />
We find a way. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">All i know is, that if I go in there, he will return. Power is something, so is
immortality but the sheer joy of victory, that is incomparable. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">And what when he comes?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I kill him. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">And if you fail?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">We already have master. If our army is his puppet, haven’t we
already? And if we have failed master, so be it. But I have no intention of
living in failure. As long as there is a chance, I shall fight. Even if it is
against something I can’t hurt. Plus, I have Jade here. She saved me once. I
don’t doubt she can do so again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I don’t think I can she chirruped. But there is something I
can do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">The mater retaliated, you can’t do anything you know that.
Don’t encourage him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">But there is something I can do she repeated glaring at him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Which is?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I need to brew more of this potion. I am not sure. But I can
try.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">No.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Good enough for me master. Let’s go.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">He sighed. I will come with you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">No you won’t. I need time with her alone to talk it out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">He glared at him and stormed out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">As he walked out Tiny remarked. That was supposed to be my
card. With that, he too disappeared. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">So this dream, do you
think that if I try to sleep again it will come back?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Couldn't. One can never have the same dream twice. We will
have to induce it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Can you help me with that?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Surely. But it may take years. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Years?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">You do realize, what we are trying to accomplish here may or
may not happen?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Oh happen it will. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">How can you be so sure?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Because he wants me. In a mere repetition of this dream or in
some other blood brother of the same he will come back for me. And when he
will, we will be ready.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">We?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">The army of course. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">The army is long gone. Go out. Look at them. They are just
bodies without souls. We can’t save them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I hate to have to tell you this ma’am, but nobody ever could
save anybody. It’s only we ourselves who can save us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">You believe that?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I believe that is some distant reality I don’t understand
they are alive and waiting for me. And if it takes years to find that reality,
then so be it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Master walked in enthralled. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">There is a way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">There is? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">What if you were to die?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">What if I was to die?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">He would come for you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Tiny came in grinning. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I have been waiting too long for this, let me just get my
daggers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Were you standing outside? Both of you she remarked? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">When I walked out, I was angry, master continued. But when I saw
those bodies, I realized, it was long over. But then there is always a last
fight. And I have waited too long to not be a part of it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Shinkozu, that is a touchy thought, but here I doubt you can
be of any help. I will have to take him to my lair alone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Tiny growled. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">That’s quite all right. I will prepare for our next move once
they are awake. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">She nodded at master beckoned him and walked out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Remember this wolf, he may be immortal, but he is still
human. And as long as he is not in flesh and bones his only weapon is fear. And somehow if he does make the mistake of adorning a body, rip
him off. The Murloc needs to feel the stronghold of death again.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Bless me master and pray that I am ready. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">He followed Jade outside. But she had disappeared. For a
lady, she was quite fast. It took him a while to find her. She was sitting on
the rocks her feet barely touching the water teasing it. He couldn't believe how he had forgotten how
pretty she was. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Are you okay?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I have never tried this before. I had seen my father do it
once. What if I go wrong and something bad happens? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">What if you don’t go wrong and I don’t go wrong and somehow
we manage to save all of them? Isn't the risk worth it? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">But what if you die?</span><br />
Then someday when you are old and still outrageously pretty
we can meet in heaven, grab a quick beer and you can pay.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I don’t do beer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Cranberry juice? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Nope. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Litchi?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">That sounds nice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Come on then, let’s go try and get me killed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
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Rajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14521949812576502731noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971261807338959657.post-30542781782726532502013-08-24T06:50:00.000+05:302013-08-24T06:50:02.668+05:30Werewolves_ Dance of the weasel<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
He woke up, to the peculiar sounds of the night. The first
thought that gripped him was, how did I reach here? The next thought was as to
where, here is? It was a forest. That was in plain sight. And sound to those
not yet awoken. The thickset of the trees revealed nothing but for the light of
the full moon. There were no clouds. That was strange. He could bet there had
been in the morning. There were no stars either. Just the rugged old moon and
the darkest sky. The hunted, here would characteristically cry for help. A
hunter of course would seek a weapon of some sort. He being neither chose neither
but listened intently. For the twigs cracking as someone passed by. Or the
birds weeping for having been interrupted in their slumber. Maybe even a fire
cackling nearby with his friends around it, which would explain everything. For
the stream of water gushing through on its merry way. But there was none. Just
the serene of the night and the clatter of the night time bugs. Instinct told
him he should head north. But why? And where exactly was north? Was it behind
the thorny bush? Or behind that dilapidated tree on one side? Or was it behind
him, beyond the darkness? Darkness. What is the darkness meant for? Oh for
sleeping his merry mind told him. Or was it more? The time for the demons to
neigh and sway? The time for the undead to celebrate? Light, we need our light
to survive. But what about those who don’t need the night? God is but fair and
just. Everyone has their share. And so they do. Nevertheless, now in the
moment, should he walk or run for it may save him from whatever was lurking in
the dark? Or should he rub two stones and mark a fire? But then wouldn’t he be
an easy target to find? They say the animals are afraid of the fire. But in the
hollow crevice called the night, is it the animals we are to fear? He could of
course climb a tree but what good would that serve? As he found himself adept
to the role of a victim he felt the familiar sensation of fear touch him again.
It had been too long. He had forgotten, that fear existed. But exist it did. As
he felt his heartbeat pacing, he laughed. A high pitched laugh of happiness. He
was human after all. He stopped and once again the silence engulfed him
wrapping itself in a sheath around him like oil on a statue. It was then he
heard it. Hooves. Horses. A whole set of them, coming from a distance. So he
wasn’t alone. Not for long. It was coming from his right. And as he watched,
the hooves grew stronger and stronger, the earth shaking beneath him with the
pleasure of ecstasy as if touched inappropriately. It could have been the
shiver of fear, but who was he to judge. Then the wind picked up, rustling its
way through the forest creating way for the chariot. The chariot in itself was
the grimmest sight ever seen. Weeds dangling from its chassis, rust speculating
on the frames as if it had just left the ocean and blood smearing its every
corner. The wheels were made of wood, like the body but they too seemed to be
on the verge of death. Wood. Does wood too die? It is but alive…it was the
chariot of death maybe. But it was empty. And the horses, there were no horses.
Just the reigns held uptight as if something invisible was strangling it. He watched it stop in front of him. Where the
chariot boy should have been sitting, there was no one. Or maybe there was. But
he couldn’t see anything. Just the reigns. Like the horses, the driver too was
a frame of nothingness. The door of the chariot opened and a voice was heard. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh hello there. Are you lost? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not sure about me, but your horses sure are.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So you can see them. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I see rope. And I see wood. The rest is a flicker. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Come on in then lad. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You continue. I believe I can find my way.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh can you now?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maybe not. But I would rather not be on the same route as
you.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You speak too much of what you know nothing of. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know enough to know that I admire your offer, but I would
let it pass. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was a grunt and then there was silence. He turned to
walk away but as he did, a flicker passed him and stood right in front of him.
As he watched it took form. First the black robe disarming itself around a body
he couldn’t see then the long slender fingers on his shoulder and finally the
eyes. But they were no ordinary eyes.
They were balls of red fire. By now, he should have been afraid. And to
an extent he was. But what was it, to be feared? Death? But he would admire
death. What he would have given to be dead. But the burden of responsibility
thrust on him kept him alive. He looked into the red eyes and the face
appeared. Like the chariot, it too was grim. The nose was long and elegant
though some would call it grotesque. The lips were black with the wrinkles of a
hundred year old lady. The cheek bones were very well defined. It must have
been a handsome face in its prime. But now, it was a mask. The mask of death he
prayed. Let this be his end he prayed. The eyes shred into him and he could
feel his heart stopping. Cardiac arrest? Was that how he would die? Oh
splendid. He wouldn’t feel a thing. It would be over soon. And at that thought he
grinned cheaply. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You aren’t afraid of me? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am afraid that if you stay in your physical being for too
long, I would shred you to pieces and it
would be a life lost. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I am not alive at all. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So you have felt death?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Aah yes, it was a pleasure. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I believe you would enjoy it for a second time. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Some things have no seconds.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How would you know? You haven’t tried. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Neither have you.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I want to.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then it shall be granted. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I would though, would like to see you try. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh killing you would be fun. But not as much as keeping you.
Turn around, I want to show you something. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He listened, just because he wanted to know what new threat
the robe could muster. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What met his eyes now, was horrifying. He could now see the
horses. Just that, they weren’t horses.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Your kind. They are
my loyal servants, and they shall live forever. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The steeds were staring at him. He looked from one to the
other inhaling their sorrow, tapping their fear. These weren’t his loyal
followers. These were just the trophies of fear. His personal collection. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That is what you told them? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You can join them or of course we can have special space for
you in the back. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His gaze fell from his fellow species to the chariot to what
was behind it. To say the sight would keep one awake nights, would not suffice.
Being dragged behind the chariot were bodies. Skeletons of the dead. Of the
claimed. Some not even complete. Some half burnt. Some in pristine condition
except that they were missing a head. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He could feel the messengers hands on his shoulders claiming
him. Somewhere inside, anger dwelled in him. The anger of a million souls
burning. He wasn’t afraid. He had nothing to fear. He was angry. He
somersaulted into the air above the robe and behind him converting. As the robed
being watched he howled the werewolf howl into the night. The howl of a war
cry. And it was louder, than anything else the immortal would ever witness. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I see. So you intend to fight till the end? Fine, you shall
be made example of. Now is just not the time. And with that he was in his
chariot and off.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He woke up in bed again. Master was sitting beside him. Jade
was rubbing some cool liquid on his feet. Tiny was standing at the door. His
master broke the silence. Thank god you are awake. We have lost too many Adam.
We have lost too many. </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Rajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14521949812576502731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971261807338959657.post-65084806461601273762013-06-04T11:48:00.002+05:302013-06-04T11:48:26.005+05:30Horseshoe Garage- Book Review<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
There. Right there. You can feel it in your veins when you
read it. This is going to be interesting. On page one itself, you get wallowed
into a race. You are nearing a finish line. But there is someone else too. And then
you wake up. God damn it, it’s just a book. But then you have a whole book to
read. And it has you hooked from minute one. Now that is not exactly rare, but
then that’s not exactly so common. The story unwinds revealing characters the
personas of which you can make out have been constantly mulled over so as to be
perfect, like that of the first sip of lemon iced tea. And it is that
refreshing. It creates a movie in your head, the kind you can watch again and
again. The kind that can move you, inspire you. Sarvesh kulkarni. Just a normal
guy, like any of us with an abnormal dream, once again likes many of us. As he
chases it from the stands to race course, you chase with him. And then comes a
girl; In the unlikeliest of places and the unlikeliest of times. And you feel it,
the warmth that only fiction can deliver. It’s why you read. So you can dream! But
then every dream has a pitchfork where it ends up either remaining a dream or
coming into play, here in reality. Sarvesh, finds himself on the mouth of the
latter. And that is where the story really starts. Through risk at high speeds
to mushiness at low times, it has pretty much everything you can ask for. </div>
</div>
Rajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14521949812576502731noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971261807338959657.post-65346005875159404452013-04-20T00:37:00.000+05:302013-04-20T00:37:54.084+05:30Exile.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There comes a time, when worldly pleasures appeal no more to you. When things, far greater than yourself make a scarce impact on you. When moksha is far, far away. At a time as ripe as that, it is time. </div>
Rajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14521949812576502731noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971261807338959657.post-25534501785396936322013-02-11T11:48:00.000+05:302013-02-11T11:48:02.930+05:30Werewolves_ The Graveyard<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A stray breeze was passing by whispering lullabies to the
faint souls quivering underneath. She twirled and she twisted posing like a ballet
dancer, clapping at the peak of her rendezvous smiling away joyously. Her rhythm
varied to the music she astounded from the trees. But it was there. She looked
towards the stars and on capturing their roving eye huddled into a swoon of motion.
She glazed the leaves of the trees which rustled to her touch and racketed the
birds neatly perched in their nests. She watched as they huddled closer for
warmth and then out of sheer delight swooshed over the graves mourning their
crutch. And then it was gone. It too had deserted the graveyard yet again like
everything else. It too was mortal and the kiss of breath that the graveyard
gave meant they never lasted long. Some of the leaves that had taken part in
the pomp and show fell to their own grave where they whimpered and sobbed pleading
mercy. And then it was time. For the undead to betray the shadows, for the
graves to be portals yet again to and fro from the lowest dimension, for the end
of their tirade in the musk sobriety of the real world. </span>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">They mourned leaving it behind but they had been galvanized
with a choice. Exist so as to risk the chance of never living in physical being
again, to never feel the peril of death or the mercy of love or leave and come
back every now and then in one form or the other hoping, praying that some
would have attained the astute fate of mercy and that they could be reborn. Born
to the world of the living. Born to the world of growing, in intelligence and
in presence to only perish once again and return to spiky cellar below the
surface. Such is the cycle of life. Some never advanced beyond their first life
out of choice and some never advanced because they never quiet died. Death wasn’t
enough to demolish them from the face of the meager planet. And hence they
lived. For long awaiting the rise of their master. One beyond the crutches of
death itself. One who had been destined to rise. The anti Christ, who had been
gnawing among the living yet never quite been alive. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The door of the windmill chuckled to their dilemma as
footsteps were heard leaving it and heading into the graveyard. Down below they
sensed him inviting them over. His thumps, strong yet incorrigible to the living
winding around the newer graves in the general direction of the older ones. Or rather
towards the one he was bound to frequent now. And he passed each, below, the
spirits, they could feel a slithering behind him as if it were life being delicately
thrust into them. His robe dragged behind him inflaming them with a flailing desire
for blood, delivering a sense of being into the foetus as they gracefully
accepted his offer. One must realize that the most powerful womb is the earth
itself as it houses the most powerful foetus. Villains and heroes, they all
born from the cells of the planet. Evolution was merely an alibi. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And then he rested on the grave where he himself had sought
refuge a long long time ago. Where there had been no gravestone. Where there
had been nothing but dense forest for the longest era. Where tribes had fought
and died. Where famine had been prominent. Where life itself had a dearth of
space. Eventually he had watched as they had dug graves around him and he had
laughed as they had formed his army. Some had watched him scared senseless and
then they too had been faced with a question. Gods question. And that’s when he
had gained a following. As their numbers had risen he himself had risen from
the depths to the surface. And he had roamed the planet laughing at their
plight. And as if to mark the advent of his prophesy he had found a werewolf. He
had known right then that this was the being that would oust the weak. This was
his link to the living. This was the general to his army. And he had inhabited
him learning of his powers. He knew he had been detected but having felt no
resistance to his presence he had decided to<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>inhabit his undeveloped mind till he knew enough of all the developed
ones. As the wolf had slept he had talked to him and found him to be a viable
companion. He had found out about his petty life. About having been abolished
before being born of having been banned before being understood and he had
tempered with his mind quenching it with a thirst for blood. In his sorrow he
had given him strength, in his loneliness he had given him solace. And as the
wolf found more alike him, he left him and travelled forward. He had found the
dragons and the soul keepers but they had a flair for peace he couldn’t yet
disrupt. The dragons were a well advanced race and believed that co existence
was but natural. The soul keepers had made a clan out of themselves and were
too proud to instinct hurt to lesser beings unless their authority was
questioned. The werewolves, they were primitive. They were hated. And they were
feared. And they were his allies. He had watched amazed what they were capable
of. And he had watched as they had developed an underground society. There had
always been a mention of the wizards, the council of the king but none of the
wolves knew about it. The ones who did he could penetrate without inviting
attention to himself. Till one night he had followed a low life into the
cellar. And that’s when he saw the four of them. And they didn’t need to be told
that their leader was here. They could sense his being as they his and they
could sense the level of his power. They bowed to him and he bowed right back
knowing this was his clan. This was his ministry to the end of life itself. Starting
with the humans to the wolves and so on till all that remained was the undead. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He recounted older
instances and laughed. How naïve he had been to think that anything alive could
be strong enough. It wasn’t life that gave one strength. It was denial of it. The
absence of fear, of hurt or of pain. The absence of God himself. Because it was
he who ruled the live but what about the dead? What about the undead? Who did
they have? It was him. And so he sat down on his own grave and prayed. Not to
God, there was no God. But to his followers. To the believers of his prophesy. To
the believers of the undead. Before the sun rose today, his army would emerge. His
physical from reeked of this thought and that’s what pulled them to him. He closed
his eyes to peek into his soul demanding the strength to raise the awakened. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A single red rose in his pocket was neatly placed on the
grave he graced. It felt itself plying on the cold concrete surrounded by a
random assortment of leaves that anyone and everyone would not look for reason
in. But it was right there. And that’s why it always worked. It was so obvious,
it was exemplary. And then he started reciting his chants. He was surprised at
what he heard his own mouth chant. But it was as if destiny had taken his hand
and was seductively pulling him to it. His faith grew as the chants became more
progressive more powerful. And as his faith grew, so did theirs. They could see
him becoming the Anti Christ. And then he stopped. He stood up and whispered “Rise.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Down below even death was shivering in its stance. The portals
were open. All they needed for a smooth transition was something alive yet not
completely dead. He smiled at the leaves. Freshly plucked by the wind. Not yet
entirely dead. Yet not alive. It was there for everyone to see. The transition
from alive to dead. And in this case the surrogate opposite. Again he muttered,
rise. And they started listening. After years of entrapment you couldn’t blame
them for not jumping. He took a set of shallow breaths then one last long one
and roared again. And this time, no one could mistake the war cry. They rose. The
undead finally shadowed him rising from the graves. There was no light. The moon
had scampered into the shadows of the clouds. They rose to his side so powerfully
that the earth itself was caught in a spasm which grew even more as many more
increasing exponentially left its lair ripping apart its delicate fabric. Every
life form for kilometers around him could feel that something had gone
drastically wrong. This basic act of freedom had instilled a fear in them they couldn’t
explain. But they were all awake. The birds cried. The snakes hissed. The rats
scampered. The old sleepy watchman was left with his eyes wide open as life
left him for safer sanction. And so they ran. Where they didn’t not know. Anywhere
but here. The spirits could see this and this empowered them even more as the
raze surrounding him rose above him stalking him in circles like a lion
circling his prey. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Our time has come. There shall be no more life. Only the
undead. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">They rose higher and higher with his every word, the
circles becoming smaller and smaller. Sensing their impatience he rose to the
top of the whirlwind. They kept slowing till they were stagnant and then he
ordered, Now.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And then they started entering him. There was nothing else
to do. In a fraction of a second spirits from the underworld had jumped the
barrier and into him. They say energy can neither be created nor destroyed. What
they don’t mention is that when a system in destroyed the energy does not die. It
does not decompose. It waits its due. And eventually when the energy that has
been collected in one place for a long time, that has been sedimented one on
top the other explodes, nothing is left to chance. It surpasses everything
else. And as the spirits entered him, he knew that God himself couldn’t stop
him now. With every spirit that surrendered into him he felt a fresh breath of
power. And with every spirit that sponged into him, he would crave more. Eventually
all but some had made it. He had become so strong that nothing could deny him. Not
even the undead. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He picked up the black rose and smelled it. With all of us here
now, I wonder how long their race can reproduce. With the earth’s lair nearing
emptiness, I wonder for how long they will survive even if we don’t destroy
them. But erase them we must. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
</div>
Rajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14521949812576502731noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971261807338959657.post-36999085383417484942013-01-04T11:45:00.000+05:302013-01-04T11:45:19.780+05:30A Will to Live<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-add-space: auto;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He
sat on the beach watching the waves flatten out against the sand. three years ago, it would have sparked a weave of thoughts. But now as he
observed the routine coast guard vessel stretching towards the aging horizon he knew such would never happen again.
It was the time of the day when day gives way to night and the trumpets
marking the end of day shift were sounded. Docks all over the country were abandoned
and then refurbished with new men as the older ones returned to their wives and
children. He too got up and walked towards the house spotting her silhoutte at
the window. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-add-space: auto;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As
he clambered up the steps to the second floor he met one of the young female
nurses. She smiled to which he curtly nodded. He knew she was training to be a
doctor. This was just handy cash. </span></div>
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-add-space: auto;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">On
the second floor he knocked before entering the room knowing full well there
would be no answer. There never was. She was still sitting by the window
admiring the same view as she had been for the past three years. Or was it different?
Or wasn’t it? The sea; It could drown the sorrows of the whole world without
even as so much as flinching. As he drowned himself into the curls of her hair
images from the past revved up to knock him shackling him on the spot. They succeeded
as always for a few moments later he was still standing there. He couldn’t help
admiring her long black hair as it neatly draped her shoulders smouldering any
sign of the wounds that had long since denied them sanity. It was almost as if they werent there. The thought though
was enough to guillotine both of their senses. One literarily and one
metaphorically. He walked to her patting her shoulder and whispering into her ear
a distinctly incorrigible you are beautiful. She laughed not because she couldn’t
hear or because she couldn't make sense of it but because the vibrations reached her and tickled her funny bone. </span></div>
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-add-space: auto;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He
picked up one of the storybooks lying on the table settling onto the bed beside
her and started reading it to her. By the end of it a tear had swelled up in
his right eye. He shut his eyes tight as if to cut out the pain. It didn't serve
the purpose but thankfully, the tear was killed before it could be bred. He picked her up
delicately and neatly perched her on the bed. He then went on to tickle her
feet which made her laugh involuntarily, momentarily. Its moments like these that
make everything worthwhile. Life in a so called abyss.</span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">She
sat there peacefully her eyes settled on him. He looked back at her right in
the eyes, pain grouching him inside, begging solace from the only one he had
ever loved from the only form of life still inhabiting her as they smiled back
at him. It was her eyes that wiled him along unfamiliar territory. The estate
of near death and yet not quite so alive. He walked to the corner of the room
and switched on the radio. Aah music. Its companionship is unmatched. At the
merry tone that rang in the room he danced as they had used to a long, long
time ago. He danced to her and held her hand going on one knee and whispering,
care to dance my lady? </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-add-space: auto;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Her
eyes sparkled as he expertly pulled and pushed her around doing what her limbs
and mind should have done for her. The neurologists had been right. She could never have
made a self controlled voluntary action of such degree. What they didn’t know,
was that he would do it for her. And so they danced, hand in hand living away
death. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; mso-add-space: auto;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
</div>
Rajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14521949812576502731noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971261807338959657.post-5383863560102198632012-06-08T22:31:00.000+05:302012-06-08T22:31:29.471+05:30from a to z<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
life is tough. ask those who know. ask those who have a better life than they dreamed. ask those who know what falling out is. falling out from where you thought you wanted to be to where you are. even if the latter is higher. because right then that nagging sensation of being an under achiever touches you. that feeling of over performing and getting what anyone else in your place would love to have. but what one loves to have really, is what we really wanted five years ago. or maybe ten. in case they being different, five years ago. me, knew neither. i knew what everyone wanted off me and managed it rather easily. whether they underestimated me or whether i got it easy being a different thing altogether. so what i personally believe, to be the toughest part of life, is living with your decision. a decision that cost you something. in my case, my heart. baah humbug. someday i will get it back. but till then its going to be a monotone of sad stories and an unfathomable love. aah yes, call it the art of being foolish and considering oneself noble, call it being a coward or call it being plain understanding of what your love interest needs, its not comforting either way. what you eventually realize, is that you in the obscene meaning of the phrase, fucked up. you end up not really sure of whether you lost your heart or donated it. either way i ended up on the road being sheltered by some cars and being knocked over by others. either way, it lies there alone waiting for someone to pick it up. that sucks. not being in control. not being able to help yourself and hurting yourself by doing whatever that can be or may be done. oh yes it sucks bad but pity being, it makes you stronger. everything you endure makes you stronger. then smarter. and eventually wiser. maybe that's what growing up is like. fucking up and correcting your mistakes. committing fewer mistakes compared to last year, but bigger more pronounced mistakes. maybe growing up is all about thoughts and actions. i wouldn't know. haven't really done that yet. don't intend to either. apart from worn out days like these that involve some really nice moments like that bottle of beer with a great friend, its really too much fun. watching the grown ups cry over things that mean hocus pocus to you. maybe they are not the ones who have grown up. maybe their problems only multiplied and they didn't stop complaining. maybe, all growing up is, is acceptance. acceptance of a.b.c and finally z. </div>Rajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14521949812576502731noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971261807338959657.post-5732158364785855342012-04-24T05:12:00.000+05:302012-04-24T05:12:08.977+05:30The story of Vishwanath, the fitter<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
He had had five kids. Like any illiterate merry indian on
the go. He had lost three though leaving him with two. How a man can lose three
kids and how a man can take losing three kids I do not know. So do not ask me
that. He used to work well or so I thought. He pretty much managed everything I
asked of him and hence I believed that he was a man of work and a man of his
word. For not once had he told me yes sir I will do it and no been able to do
it. Whether it be required for him to stay extra hours till four in the
morning, he nearly always did it. His wife lived in his village somewhere in
Bihar with their two kids. He never talked about her. Or maybe I never asked.
Every day at exact seven thirty though he called her to ask her wellbeing. How
I know? He used my phone. I used to love watching him from a distance as he
smiled at the sound of her voice and probably to the laughter of the kids. As
he would hand the phone to me, he would nearly always say, sa’ab aapka phone
mast hai sa’ab. I used to merely grin it off reassuring him that everything
about me is and will always be the best. Pity is, he believed it. And so did I.
Till yesterday.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yesterday, vishwanath
had become too expensive and too cocky to be kept. Now once again I find myself
lost as to how he, the old man who used to jump around on seeing me saying
hello sir in that trademark happy tone had become cocky. I had been in the
night shift for a week. And being in the night shift basically meant being a
watchman. But that’s a different story. So yesterday, his true boss the
maintenance expert who I had worked with and admired a million times at least,
for his knowledge and experience came up to me and said, don’t give him work. I
feel now that I should have questioned his judgment and I realize now that he
had been trying to justify the sack to me all day before getting our boss, the
big boss to do it. The thing about the corporate world is, everyone has a boss.
Some people have good bosses as do i. some have bad ones. I tend to think that
Vishwanath had a bad boss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes he fouled
mouth him once. No, not the desi classless slangs but a basic rebellion to an
idea which I know now for fact was misconstrued as rebellion to the boss
himself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hence yesterday he was let go.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was justified. He had been dragged for years. Ten years
ago the same maintenance man had picked him up from civil grounds. If what he’s
told me was right,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>he was a helper who
helped mix cement and water then place it where required. No no not the entire
deal, he was just labour. And boss had made a fitter out of him. To all those
unaware, a fitter is a person who deals with machines. Whether it be welding,
gas cutting or basic alignment of pumps and motors, a fitter does it. He is to
a machine what a mechanic is to a car. He would somehow, anyhow using hooks and
crooks manage to the get the darn machine up and running again. It is true that
we engineers tell him what to do, but my co-lot are actually very very new
(read amateurs) as am I and we aren’t always sure what to tell him. So most of
us desert him after giving the order. Somehow I could never do that. I would
always watch him at work.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
First opening nuts then taking out the body cover then the
bearings the body and finally the shaft itself. It gives you a rough idea of
how every machines is basically a stick that moves. And that all the huge huge
things that you see are basic coverings only to hold it while it moves. Basic
fact of life: the most important thing, is the one you will rarely see, the one
that would rarely ever go wrong. The shaft only rotates. What could go wrong
with it? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So back to Vishwanath. As he was sacked he was strong. His
head was still high. And when he returned his tools, he was still laughing and
joking with his labour. As I saw him I noticed how his white hair had started
showing. By evening he had changed from his normal dirty green shirt and khaki
pants to a cleaner set. As I passed him as he walked towards the gate, he
smiled. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He stopped me I still do not know why. I do not know on what
pretext he said the following words and I do not know whether to believe them.
This is the corporate world after all. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sa’ab aapse saath kaam karke acha laga.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sabke saath lagta hai.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Haan sa’ab lagta to hai. Par aapke saath aura cha lagta hai.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kyun be?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Aap insaan ki tarah rakhta hai sa’ab.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Arun(the maintence man), bhi rakhta tha sa’ab par idhar aake
rula diya. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mujhe to usne bataya tha ki tumhari ladai hogayi. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Haan sa;ab galat kaam karwayega to ladenge hi na. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nahin lad sakte vishwanath. Ek cheez yaad rakh ek kahanwat
hai hindi main, par tu samjhega zaroor.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Boss is always right.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Haan</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Samjha?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ji sa’ab.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Woh joh karwaye, karde. Mujhe bhi pata hai aur tujhe bhi ki
aadhi baar who galat kaam karwaata hai. Tu bas kar. Kyunki tera kaam hai karna,
jis din tune kuch aur bola yahi hoga jo aaj hua. Main chahkar bhi kuch kar
nahin sakta tha aaj. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Haan sa’ab bataya mujhe bade sa’ab ne ki sirf aap nikaalne
ko mana kar rahe the. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Usne nahin bataya. Kisi aur ne bataya.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He laughed. I handed him my phone and said,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ek baar biwi se baat karle, shyam ko nahin kar payega na.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He refused.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nahin sa’ab aapke jab kaam karunga tak phone mangoonga. Aaj
nahin.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dekh le.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
kayde ka paka hoon sa'ab. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
dekh le biwi chidegi. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
nahin sa'ab. jaanti hai. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Phir milenge kabhi.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Paka saab, is line main to milna chalta hi rehta hai.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And that was the last of him. He had worked for ten years
under the same man and now the same man had kicked him out. Oh yes he was
justified. And yes I had made no attempt to stop him. After all he was the one
we had to coordinate with, not the tiny people. And that is why, in this world
the tiny people will always keep getting kicked. I could blame the system. But
I would rather blame the people. Its humanity that has died not democracy. </div>
</div>Rajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14521949812576502731noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971261807338959657.post-62461703334789655972011-11-05T11:16:00.000+05:302011-11-05T11:16:59.650+05:30Werewolf_Scavenger<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/> <w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/> <w:OverrideTableStyleHps/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<div class="MsoNormal">His master had finally called for him. A pack of seven wolves had gone rogue. He had sent Jade to the dragons’ lair with Tiny to collaborate with them. On the way she had delivered his message to Adam. She also performed a certain spell on him. It made him smell different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Adam or the Kraken as he had newly termed himself was ready. He was all in for an all-out wolf fight but his master had warned him to find him first. He needed to know something before he could fight them he had cautioned. It had been a rainy week. Thunder had been applauding him. As he moved on, the weather stiffened again. The next night they met in the forest where the agitator wolves had taken refuge for the night. He had been travelling for more than a week. Master had been following them for even longer. The forest was a scent haven. There were so many trails. One however appealed to him. It was his masters. Stealthily he followed it. Within a few minutes he could hear voices. Joyous voices shouting without a care in the world. It was then that he picked up their trail. As he noiselessly headed towards the peace breakers, he saw a light. Upon reaching closer he noticed a fire. Five men were sitting around it cracking jokes. One of them however was quiet. He had a scar that ran from head to cheek across his face. In front of them lay a dead animal. Apparently that was their supper. He heard a leave crack behind him. He was onto it in a jiffy. Master had told him about seven. There were five near the fire. The other two might have been prowling nearby. He saw a wolf convert and turn to run. As he gave chase he realized he had seen the same wolf somewhere. He stopped. He had lost him. It was then that he realized it wasn’t the familiar who was pursuing him there were two other wolves behind him. He turned and waited. He heard their hooves stamp closer. They came jumping through a bush on slightly higher ground but he was ready for them. As they jumped past him from above he leaped and clawed both of their sides. They yelped and crash landed. They turned around and growled. That’s when his master jumped from above onto one of them. That got him the distraction he needed. He was onto the other in a flash. They wrestled for a while for it was clear neither was a match for nor master nor pupil. Adam bit off a chunk of his opponent’s neck and as he lay bleeding got up and converted to his human form again. His eyes denoted an anger which was enough to not make anyone not want to stand again. Master on the other hand was playing ball. He was teasing the other wolf. Aghast he converted again and jumped on the enemy. He intended on killing him but his master stopped him. </div><div class="MsoNormal">As he bit into his neck ready to break it his master shouted. </div><div class="MsoNormal">“STOP”</div><div class="MsoNormal">In that while the pawn wrestled himself into position and fled. </div><div class="MsoNormal">“Why did you let him go?”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“We need not kill all of them. We need not kill. Had I seen you denominating this little one into pieces before I would have stopped you.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">He walked to the bleeding man held his hand and said a prayer. Then angrily he glared at him. </div><div class="MsoNormal">“If we fight among ourselves how do you expect us to win a war against a common enemy?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He then picked up his satchel and took out a few herbs. He rubbed the same on the wounds and held a cloth near his patient’s nose. Anesthetic Adam realized. With that it wouldn’t be tough to kill any of them while they slept. He then worked on his wounds stitching them with hair from his own head. Once done he sat down on the ground. He was breathing heavily he realized. Someone was getting old. He went and sat down next to his master.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“These wolves can’t even fight.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“There was a time you couldn’t either.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“A chain is only as strong as its weakest link.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal">“Small drops of water make an ocean.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">Upon getting no response, he continued.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“This boy here is barely nineteen. He converted about three months ago.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“How can you tell?”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“His brother, the wolf who ran was younger.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“What are they doing with the Rogues?”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Seeking Company. And you almost killed them for wanting to be a part of the world. For wanting to belong to something.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Weaklings don’t deserve to live.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Strength is a relative term.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Only the strongest survive.” </div><div class="MsoNormal">“This one here was once a potter.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“How can you tell?”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“The hands. Look at them.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I only see fingers and wrinkles.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“That’s what makes you juvenile. That’s what makes you need me.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“To tell me what to do”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“No. To tell you what’s right. Only one voice can tell you what to do and it lies inside you.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">He was quiet. His master was right. They needed the numbers. </div><div class="MsoNormal">“We are going to have to carry him to them.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“We don’t have too.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“What makes you say that?”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“They will come find us. According to one of them, I killed their brother didn’t I?”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Yet he ran. He is going to come hard at you.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I won’t mind.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“You should.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I am not afraid of him. Or them.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“It’s not them you should be afraid of, it’s you.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div></div>Rajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14521949812576502731noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971261807338959657.post-32238719848714177872011-09-19T20:29:00.000+05:302011-09-19T20:29:09.554+05:30Werewolf_The Nth Sin<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/> <w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> <w:Word11KerningPairs/> <w:CachedColBalance/> <w:UseFELayout/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He had woken up too early even for his own taste. It was barely past midnight. Arial lay on the bed next to him veiled by nothing more than a single flimsy cream coloured feign of a cloth. He walked to the door and looked outside. Dawn was yet to tread his forbidden grounds. The night lay in front of him ready to envelope him in its darkness unaware that what lurked inside was weighed more than what it could ever measure up to. The Vycus had fallen. First blood had been drawn. As an aftermath, his master Shinkozu and the fire priest Jade had headed out in order to structure their numbers to aid war. To cause victory. Now all that remained was drawing the shepherds out into the open and arming them. The dogs would follow. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The ministry was a sitting duck with the wizards staring them in the face. The rest had to be scavenged.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He had been left under the control of two shewolves. Arial and Esmeralda. They were both different in their skills though one thing was in common. Each beat him at speed but he might he was not be taken down. What he lacked in speed he made up in brute force and karate gimmicks.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Adam. What is it that pulls you from the warmth of my lair? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She was awake. It was strange. His own name reminded him of someone he dared not care about. He needed a new name. To have been in love with her was a mistake. To have killed her in order to slay her misery another mistake. To have stopped loving her was a mistake. Living was not. And live he would.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He turned around and stared at her. In the broad moonlight her human form invited temptation. Glistening like a diamond in a dragons claws. He walked past her swiftly and pulled her by the hair till she was half bent and then kissed her on the neck. He nibbled like a rabbit would and pulled her hair like a killer would. That, was what he liked about her. He could be as ruthless with her as he dared be and yet she would only drawback only to push him harder in the next instant. She was an animal, a lioness in disguise and she housed a rage even he couldn’t muster to encounter. He picked her up into his arms and claimed her mouth. Eventually he dropped her on her front and started up on her rear. As he pulverized the neck a soft groaning sound greeted his eardrums. Seizing the moment he plunged inside her. He picked her up again this time by the neck so she was on her knees and as she tilted her head soothed her lips with his. She softly bit his tongue signaling it was her turn and within a moment she had released herself. He felt himself being pushed underneath and obliged. As she mounted him her hands took a hold on his armpits and gradually she started gyrating on top of him. He let her for barely a minute before raising himself for just a second. She got the queue and bent so as to kiss him. As her mouth met his he fell on his back, his armpits and arms locking her hands and his mouth feeding on hers. Sinner that she was, she never stopped. Desperate she kept gyrating slowly leniently. As she gyrated, so did he. As she crested so did he. As she sobered down into ecstasy she was underneath again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It was strange how they had wordlessly made a pact. Training in the day, making love in the night. In the daylight they fiddled with his immatureness and in the nights she taught him the intricacies of the pervasive female body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Esmeralda never engaged in bodily delight. She lived in a world of her own planning executing and enacting all of their roles in combat eventually making both of them a part of it. They always paired up against him. Their speed was unmatched but eventually his might outpaced them. Eventually his movements became more controlled his thrust more systematic his actions more planned and his moves perfection personified. When they separated to create diversion and divide work so one may distract and the other attack he took them apart piece by piece. It was when he had used his tail for the first time did he realize the look in Arial’s eyes. In order to dodge the tail when she had jumped her whole world had come crashing down as his hind legs had found her skull and mid section. She had laid there a while and the same day when he had tried it again, taken hold of his legs and thrashed him. Esmeralda had noticed the sparks and excused herself. That night they had made love. It had been hurried and soft. Both had been afraid of the effect on the other incase either had misunderstood the others signals. They were afraid of their own rawness. By next week, the awkwardness had gone and they owned each other. It was a week later that they had really made love. The hard way. The raw way. The right way. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Esmeralda had fitted into her role perfectly. She had placed herself in both of their paws frequently and hence knew both enough to not care of their nightly escapades unless it affected their training. Which it didn’t. It only pushed both harder. She was surprised at how much Adam was like what she had been when she had met Arial. She was surprised at how she knew that the only thing Arial saw in Adam was herself. She was surprised at how she couldn’t help be a side story. She was surprised at how she didn’t want anything else. It was strange. As they fell to his woes, he rose. As he grew they fell. As he rose, they fell. as he blossomed they flailed. He had become the Kraken. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div></div>Rajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14521949812576502731noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971261807338959657.post-85709186395220848862011-08-03T00:55:00.003+05:302011-08-03T00:55:25.640+05:30To what is, and what could have been<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">so there is this girl. you call here eve simply cause if you could ever descrive her in one word, it would have to be woman.<br />
its strange really. you are her adam. so this in effect becomes the sober little story <br />
of adam and eve. a faulty eve. an equally faulty adam. and hence the world would have died. so luckily, its just <br />
one set god put out there that is like that. there are others. normal ones. which have their faults. <br />
but then their faults are smaller. for one, they know whats right for them and whats not. they know that <br />
cheating is not right and complementing each other is. they know that to solve problems all you really need <br />
to do is talk it out. when one knows you better than you know yourself you freaking listen. for if <br />
you dont, you tend to screw up adam and eve. and thats no small deal. or isn't it? its just adam and eve. <br />
its just happiness. its art. the art of staying alive. of staying alive and not being lonely. if only she <br />
understood. but she doesn't. so there was only one solution. you kill each other. or wait she would say <br />
no to even that. so you do whats right. you kill her. its easy really. you pull the trigger and one part<br />
of you dies. now for the other part. you are equipped for at least five others even if you are using an old <br />
revolver so that is not a problem. so you pull the trigger again. and you die. and then god stands before <br />
you and asks. did you do whats right? what do you say?<br />
how the fuck would i know? i wanted out of the misery. her misery. my misery. <br />
you didnt belong together in the first place he says. <br />
so why the hell did u make us adam and eve you moron?<br />
or now will you say we did that? no wait. i did. you only just watched us didn't u?<br />
had fun? well i hope you did cause i aint living again. thankyou god. you showed me the beauty of life. <br />
and showed me, that i didnt even want to live it. i owe you man. so here is your reward! your life back. <br />
no thankyou you can keep it. so long.</div>Rajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14521949812576502731noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971261807338959657.post-31494085948602293832011-05-14T18:09:00.000+05:302011-05-14T18:09:43.420+05:30Just a Thought...I wander like a ghost at night<br />
Over sleeping rose gardens and orchards alike<br />
In search of what’s meant to be<br />
For you, and for me.<br />
<br />
I take in the sights,<br />
Cozy, sleepy and bright<br />
As I walk past I see<br />
There never was a you and me<br />
<br />
It takes a piece of me this night<br />
and I give it all away in the name of peace and fight<br />
As it gets darker I begin to see<br />
Why you are the you and I, I am just plain old me.<br />
<br />
It gets easier at day<br />
When work keeps your thoughts at bay<br />
But as darkness falls I fail to flee<br />
Back from the chapter of you and me.<br />
<br />
In the midst of chaos there is light<br />
And eventually I take flight<br />
But in the end it all comes back<br />
The pairs made and braid on the shoe rack.<br />
<br />
It seems easy to be so light<br />
The solace of being right<br />
But righteousness lies in the wrong<br />
As I whisper to you ever night forlorn.<br />
<br />
It takes two to tell this tale<br />
Without clay there is no shale<br />
I walk by you unnoticed<br />
Trespassing swift and brisk<br />
<br />
I wonder if I someday I may wake you<br />
But as I stare I would rather wait my turn in your queue<br />
As you sleep in peace<br />
I linger to be that beds crease<br />
<br />
So I walk by<br />
Persistent, broken and shy<br />
And then every time I see you in the mirror<br />
I beg to be alive<br />
<br />
If only wishes came true<br />
We could be one, we could be through<br />
But that would not be right<br />
And hence alone I walk at night<br />
<br />
Across fields across mountains<br />
Through glaciers and through fountains<br />
You walk and I walk alone<br />
The cold distantness aching to the bone.<br />
<br />
<br />
so this friend said a title would limit it. when i try to think of what inspired this i remember a million things. so shes part right. but then all the same isn't a name something that anything alive must be given? what do you think? <br />
<br />
and while you are at it suggest a name huh? heres a good one an angel suggested- <br />
The Night WandererRajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14521949812576502731noreply@blogger.com31tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971261807338959657.post-70243435092339970812010-12-20T15:58:00.000+05:302010-12-20T15:58:20.274+05:30Vanquishing the VanguardThe riddles had been easy enough. The path had been cleared; the first half of the day had passed. Beyond the fountain the door opened automatically as if welcoming the juvenile eloquency of normal mortal life to its pristine glory. There was no creaking, not a muscle moved. Not one sound tried to overture the commemoration. The orchestra would sit this one out. Three men entered the arena. If only redemption could be liquidated this easily, one prayed. Or maybe it was going to be embezzled. Whichever way, the obscene repercussion was a must. Inside was more of a playground than anything else. A myriad of squares consisting of white tiles highlighted in places by blobs of reds and greens and blacks separated by grass and plain concrete alternatively gave an awkward sense of finesse. Something very raw very stale lived here. The nostrils screamed that. And yet apart from the stench the room it was spick and span. There was a dome in the centre with a remarkably intense magnifying lighting system starting with a chandelier at the peak of the dome and ending at the intersection of the dome with the walls with small coloured lamps around which grew plants with miniscule pale yellow flowers. The dome too was white as maybe snow white herself. On the whole, the cream walls with the slight woodwork in places and the tiles alongside the grass and the dome gave a feeling of gay extravaganza. But the stench worsened and a being crawled out from one corner of the room, possibly a hole in the ground. First came, the head and then the rest of the pink puddle. It couldn’t be called an apparition but it was no less an appearance of the anti gods. The being was pink in appearance probably from having bled so much and surviving to kill another every time. It wasn’t exactly what they had imagined him to be. But he wasn’t lesser. The Vycus was sinister. You need not look into those eyes to know that. Not that he had eyes. He wore a headdress too small for him made of steel like warriors used to wear in the old times during the wars of swords and corporeal attainments. In the place of eyes lay two slits covering white. Probably the eyes. The rest was a blob of mass. The arms were blobby and the hands were like a witch’s. The fingers were long and slender. The feet were stumps thicker than trees. At first sight he seemed an easy kill. But then he picked up his axe. A mere glaze of the same could create a wound so deep so as to never heal. His vanity stood vivified. Its blade shone with the verdict of the satanic. Next came the snake slithering to his neck and perching there. The bygone valour of the perseverance of the chase was vindicated to stupidity. <br />
As he stomped the ground, taking his first step, it was palpable that the onslaught was on the brink of commencement. A groan escaped him as he tried to talk. Saliva dripped from his mouth as he spoke. <br />
“Who is first?”<br />
Master stepped forward. <br />
“Shinkozu. I see you are back. Who’s that? Another brother?”<br />
For a split second, the master hung his head. <br />
“This time you die.” <br />
And for the first time in the presence of another, he revealed his true form. A wolf now stood in his place. The eyes were the same though. Filled with vengeance. His age grays filled his animal body with the placidness of a spent cloud. The thunder though was yet to show. <br />
The tiny man had disappeared. The black wolf stood beside the other one. The plan was simple. First goes the axe and then the snake. Once the prey was defenseless, pain would be inflicted till death. His eyes gleamed with the lust of a newborn killer. Not that he was a novice but the fact that the one friend he had, his master wanted this particular being dead and entrusted him with the same gave him a high. Add to that, the new craze for blood and power and his thirst only grew. There is nothing as addictive as the sense of power that the devil splurges to one who has barely just performed his first murders. It’s a sentence for life. One each desires whether he may accept or attain it or not. What is it that one really desires other than to be loved and respected? If the respect comes from fear is it not his one abiding to earn it? At such times this craving, gets so strong that it chews on the entire meaning of living life at all. Tonight minds spurted that surging need to slaughter again. Images of previous assaults pirated each of their minds to a state of cockiness well deserved. The fire of having lost a loved one not so long ago only just angered even more. The entire room was brimming with a sense of enticement. Even the Vycus, one who had known and slain more fierce enemies could feel a sense of inborn exhilaration. He knew not what was in store for him. But he cared even less. He had pawned one too many to fear anything at all. Tonight though, no amount of botany, mathematics or venom could save him. Even the Gods feared to tread in such battles. Tonight Satan himself had obsessed his enemy’s soul. For a moment he even considered his end. Knowing what was at stake fired him up even more. <br />
Vengeance and desire were on a one on one with brute force and vanity. <br />
The wolves assaulted. They ran rubbing shoulders for a stretch and then separated into opposite directions only coming together at the spot where the Vycus crossed their path. A flowing current of water rummaging across a small stone would have made a similar course. The Vycus being left handed had the axe on the left. The black wolf coming on from his left slowed so as to distract him. Sensing the speed change the Vycus had released the snake onto the gray one on his right holding it by its tail. It had been a good move till the black wolf picked up pace and dodging the swing of the axe launched onto his neck right as the snake tail slipped of it onto his right hand. The timing was perfect. The groans simultaneous. The gray wolf had caught the snake around its neck. The Vycus tried to shake the wolf on his neck off but to no avail. Apart from the jaws gnawing of his neck, the hind paws dug in onto his back and front. Having no option, he dropped the axe to brush off the intruder. The gray wold pulled the Lilith away from its master. Waiting for the right moment, the black wolf shifted weight onto the prey’s backside jumping towards his frontal barely before the hand knocked him. Off balance, the butcher fell. The snake was pulled by the weight of its holder. The gray wolf now dug deep into the lower jaw of the Lilith(snake). Sensing the opportunity the black wolf swiftly took hold of the other jaw using his momentum to strain it. The other wolf merely just held his grip on the lower jaw. Their combined strength tore apart the mouth of a crying Lilith killing her instantly. One part of the plan had succeeded. The butchers apprentice had been pawned. Now for the butcher himself. <br />
Meanwhile the third has stolen the axe. <br />
As the butcher got up and looked around he realized what had happened. He was defenseless. His child lay there bested His axe was nowhere to be seen. For the first time in his life, the butcher felt fear. He watched the wolves as they stalked him circling him. He realized why he had lost. Their eyes gave them away. Sometimes, even mortals are invincible. His death was prominent. He knew it. The wolves knew it. The man standing on the chandelier holding his axe knew it. <br />
It was just a matter of how long. They let him feel it. For the thought that he was going to die to sink in deep enough. Their movement grew stealthily faster. No matter how fast he turned he could never keep an eye on more than one of them. He took off his headdress in order to see better. And then he ran out of time. The one in front of him rushed forward. He followed suit. Right when he was in front of him, the wolf jumped. He tried to catch it. It bit his head and tugged. Right then, he felt a push on his legs as if a bull had come thrashing into him from behind. For the second time in one night, he fell. The last thing he saw was the little man coming down on him with an axe, his axe. The Vycus had fallen. First blood had been drawn.Rajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14521949812576502731noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971261807338959657.post-73436438964103827232010-09-20T12:55:00.000+05:302010-09-20T12:55:55.507+05:30Butcher BotanyDeep in the woods lies a garden. A garden said to be magnificent;a marvel of sorts that surpasses all beauty that may exist anywhere else on the planet. A shelter where dusk refuses to pry and night never cries,a homage devoid of reptiles, disease and ugliness, a place of plain ungodliness. A secure refuge to the unholy. Hence the rarities of orchids, butterflies and roses exist there. They bloom with a pretense so wise so as to slay a goddess with the mere scent of their venom. The butterflies’ sting, the flowers prey and the insects chew meat. To a wanderer who may stop to smell the roses they are profane death as his life flutters way like a butterfly. To a warrior who passes they are temptation but not a certain hindrance when fed and hearty. In the middle of the garden lies a temple fit to be called a palace, a palace with no queens, no princes or princesses and no servants. No being other than a terrible creature, one of mass destruction. A horrible mortal part butcher, part mathematician and in part a remarkably gifted botanist. And he is just as well the high priest of Satan’s temple. A monk he may be called, a monk that kills in the name of botany. A monk that surrounds himself with a sheet of riddles, the subjects who go right get free passage, the ones who don’t get a free fall to the underworld. Warriors sharp as needles, proud as kings and swift as light have perished over the ages in advent of his demise. Yet failure miserably engulfed them into history. Armies never seem to make past the baroque embankment. What makes the chase interesting is that you are allowed to quit at any point. And yet the price you pay is all on chance. Probability statistics. He looks out the window and smiles. You may leave as a whole alive poisoned with a curse your future generations would carry or you may leave as a beetle with no legs and no wings. Or if he desired a show he could just throw you into the air. Where you land if you do or whether you land in bits or in competence is once again probability. If you were in for disaster you might beeline to the honeycombed snake pit with holes the size of your genitals. If you have a sword that would be the most likely trance you would be encountered in difference being you would hear the hiss of the Lilith rather than dance in the bites of her progeny tykes. The latter would bite tissues of you based on a pattern. The former would be slower and the chunks bitten off bigger. More time to guess the pattern. But a death more profound, more felt. However, there is hope. You could easily go off unscathed. But once again if you were bathed in honey or nectar or anything sweet, would not the butterflies feast you with more than merely large eyes? If you do however answer correctly you will be let in. The first thing welcoming you would be a stone statue; The statue of his God, sitting in the middle of a fountain starring you with eyes brimming with the enticement of the oncoming sport and a sickly wicked stain of a smile. Flowing through the feather of his hat would be a liquid. Whether it is holy water, liquor, elixir, acid, energy giving potions or poison disguised as any of the above is dependent on the position of the sun and the day of the year,either way no point drinking it. The fountain also houses the Lilith. If you are lucky enough you may see the tail. If you are not, it may sense your sight. As a blind snake the moment it does, it will attempt to rip your eyes out to see if they fit her holes right. Across the statue lays a door, a wooden door that creaks as you enter it.Knocking makes no difference. As you enter it, you discover another series of doors, doors that lead inevitably to a creature. No one knows what those doors hold. Each one produces a different sound. But the last one, the one across the one you just entered holds the Vycus. The master of it all. He can give life and he can take it. At the door of his haven is engraved <br />
“One who dies just the once fights better than one who has not died at all.” <br />
Hence if he pities you after you are dead he may just take you back to time to when you were at the gates of his household. You turn back you see nothing but a dark void. You go forward, the flowers, the riddles and the doors let you pass without question so you may spar him. You get a second life so he may snatch it again. The fight for that second life is what he drives pleasure from. If you ever believed that one who saved you only wanted to kill you, you were right. <br />
The Vycus is like an obese man. More than a few extra pounds and a stomach the size of an elephant characterize him. He is half giant. The Lilith perches around his neck before the fight starts. The Lilith is actually just a normal water snake he feeds the wrong plants to on intention. It leads to permanent blindness, the size of an anaconda and venom stronger than the sum of the venoms of all poisonous creatures including scorpions and plants coexisting in one reptile. And a constant dose of the orchid that houses the strain. He uses it as his hook to pull you near him as and when he desires. He is slow with his slaughter and his movement but that is no reason for consolation. The moment he wishes to end it he would give the snake one last bait before he would ask it to leave. The one last bait would be you. On command, the snake would spew venom just enough to blind and paralyze you and then slithering leave. Once done he would start rotting himself. He would slash his own body with an axe starting at the stomach. And that stomach that looked so helpless would initially fill your nostrils with a smell so toxic, so pungent so as to burn every inch of your body. The pain would be unbearable and would last till what you thought was your death. After a few minutes your sight would return and you would see the most revolting thing you would have ever seen. Your skin would beg to start unfeeling. Your eyes would wretch you to close them. He settles on top of you as you try to scramble out. Gooey liquid and blood covers you everywhere. The rottenness starts digesting you. In a while he moves away to admire his own piece of art. All that is to be seen is a display of blacks, reds and icky greens. The blood is his. The goo is his. The black tar is you, all that’s left of you. He is still bleeding and will till all the blood in his body runs out. Once that happens, the wizards visit him and restore him. It’s when he starts rotting is he the most vulnerable. Its only when he rots is he killable.<br />
Relevance here is that he is the Wizards’ battle axe. Their executioner you may call him. Everything brains and magic can’t counter he can. Most of it that magic can encounter, he can too. For centuries the wizards have lazed in peace as he did their dirty work. Losing him will not be a handicap to them but letting him live will be a fatal fetus to us. He holds their fury. He is their divinity. He is their primal object of fear, their one most sought after and most used weapon. If we do somehow pawn him, they will come at us with all their might which I presume is enough to evaporate us alone but there will be less to fear. Also the moment he dies, the trumpets are sounded. Hopefully the other wolves and a few other clans will pact with us. But this one price has to be paid. No matter how many of us die, this creature has to be slain. <br />
This creature I talk about is human, a mortal. So he can be killed. He could have immortality if he wished but he wishes to be slain. This wish of his is what we will fulfill.Rajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14521949812576502731noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971261807338959657.post-89945637528015649932010-08-14T17:07:00.000+05:302010-08-14T17:07:22.741+05:30Werewolf_RevelationIt stood before him, straight, crooked, bent with the arches of time, his ladder to the sky above. If only he could mount it. A few well placed blows could fell it but he did not intend that. This one was old. It commanded different treatment. And it was twisted assumedly making it an easy climb. But the rain had left it all wet and soft like a rubber stone. One knuckle a little too harsh and it would crack to lend his fall. He had more control over his form now. He wasn’t clumsy when he ran but when it came to climbing walls or trees he would eventually land on his back stuck like a beetle. But this one he would ace. One blink and he was at the root. The jump took him high and slashing wildly he advanced towards the sky. Every step was as easy as an electric eel and as he paced across it, it would slip like banana peel. As it would fall, he would rise till he stopped right into the vice. He was at the top now clinging for his life looking below he no longer felt wise. The branch he was perched on was sagging. The world below beckoned to him. He stood tall howling with the entire lament of wrath he held and then jumped. Everything meant to break his fall was gashed off by his claws as he marooned life. And then his master summoned. He somersaulted in mid flight and landed on his feet. The impact felt gruesome but more pronounced was the voice that talked to him. Adam, find me in the shack. The king is dead. The urgency of a voice he had only before defined as calm could have rattled had he not been in his absolute senses right then. Four feet guided him to the shack. A fire was glowing inside. The room was warm and gave the mud walls gave an outlook of pure solidarity with nature. The master lay cross legged in the centre mumbling chants. He echoed to him. Come, sit, and wait. He sat down in front for the revelation he was owed. He too closed his eyes but merely for the peace that it gave him. Every once in a while he did look into his masters thoughts. Baffled every time he smirked at his own fate. One such time a voice he recognized even addressed him but somehow his master blocked him right then and all he could hear after that were the splinters rousing the fire. In time he was addressed again but this time by the master. <br />
“Son, your father has died.”<br />
This time he laughed. “A father that was never mine. If I remember correctly I was brought up by my mother.” <br />
“She chose to mother you alone so you would not be what you are now.” <br />
“You mean this? All this pin hair. These teeth? This snout?”<br />
“Yes that if it’s all it is to you.” <br />
“You know it is more than that to me.”<br />
“Then behave if it is.”<br />
“I am not in grief if that is what you were suggesting.”<br />
“He sacrificed the realms of this world so you may live in the other.”<br />
“He abandoned us.”<br />
“No. He sacrificed the right to bond. It was a choice. He could stay a wolf, a husband, a father and kill for the emperor or become a man and kill his beloved and child or convert them. He let you live. He let your mother live. And when the king ordered him to slay the misfortune bred families of those who had chosen the other he killed the king. In a gathering of a thousand wolves he took his head off. By wolf legislation he was made king. As king he was damned to let go off everything else. He changed the law of course so that others would not have to pay what he did. He was our king. A good king. And he is dead now. The moment I marked you, I knew you were his son. I was confused then as to how you could be a wolf. But now it’s all clear. Your father made himself your opposite, knowing that if they came for you, merely killing himself would set you free. But you became a wolf before he died. Which is not possible, unless the Brethren have been lying. But then why would they lie?”<br />
He closed his eyes and an expression of pure grief loomed over him. <br />
“Adam. They know. And they are coming for you.”<br />
“So why not kill me yourself and give them my head as a surprise gift?” <br />
“Cause you cannot be killed. You can be burned, torn to shreds even drowned but you cannot be killed.”<br />
“No wonder”<br />
“No wonder what?”<br />
“I survived.”<br />
“Survived?”<br />
“Rewind your memories master to the night I took form. Look for a scene with me jumping into the ocean. Not being dramatic, but I am sure a thunder would have struck right then”<br />
“You were falling into the water. Deep and You...you survived.”<br />
“I do not know how. I remember watching the surface dull as I drowned. I closed my eyes. ” <br />
“And you came out as a wolf.”<br />
“If only I could have died. Things would have been different.”<br />
“For one your father would be alive.”<br />
“What has he to do with this?”<br />
“My guess is, when he saw you drowning he must have killed himself faster than you could have drowned to save you. The Brethren would know but at least you would live.”<br />
“Who is this Brethren?”<br />
“The kings advisors. More powerful than the king himself but the king’s word was always a rule. The king is the only man they cannot counter. And he is dead now.”<br />
“You say they cannot kill me.”<br />
” They don’t have to. They have magic. They are wizards of great knowledge. One spell and you will belong to them. They only need your soul. They will bind your soul and your body will then be a slave of their needs. You will watch yourself do what you have no control over. It is worse than death.” <br />
He paused as if afraid of thinking of the consequences. <br />
“They would outrun mankind.”<br />
“So what now?” <br />
“Now we go to war.”Rajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14521949812576502731noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971261807338959657.post-62133742823041994462010-07-28T09:25:00.000+05:302010-07-28T09:25:52.374+05:30ShewolvesThe night gets crooked when those ladies come alive. Eyes reeking of slaughter breath thirsting on fear she is on her way ending at you before you know she is even there. Her fury is a wrath to behold her own agony a sight unseen. She never walks alone with her walks another who shares her spleen. In the company of the wooed shade they perform their witchcraft. As the priestesses of the moon they will demand sacrifice so hope and pray that this isn’t your demise. It is a painful way to die with two women whose company otherwise would have been sought with divine pleasure. Among the two there is one betrayed by her own mate left to die in a fire<br />
ignited ambitiously by the realms of his own faith. A prolonged sense of pain had sprouted a seed in her then and as a frail creature she had bidden till the gods had descended to slay her poison only to be consumed by a greater singe. In the agony of it all guilt had forsaken the mate to be detained for life. But that wasn’t punishment enough. The scars of the eve compelled eternal bondage to the whistling arrow that claimed the hinge. Forgiveness was no more presiding over the peak of the volcano. The rustling sense of regret had to be flawed to<br />
not be enough. The crime had to be justified with an equal counter defiance. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Faithlessness drives war-cry. And a war always ends with a<br />
survivor, a fatality and a prisoner in a cage. When the survivor is a prisoner of his own choice freedom will never be granted but in lapses of alternation of peace in competence with an<br />
incoherent rage out of bounds for all except those not cruel enough to not accept their own fate. The other was not very different from a teenage bathroom singer other than for the fact that she had blood on her hands when she sung. The only thing she cringed for was something she could play with long enough to not be bored enough to enjoy licking the intoxicant of its wounds. She loves the music her victims are pressed upon with. Their cries of mercy drove her crazy with the incorrigible joy of a baby holding a bell. Yet she was undoubtedly the saner one, the mightier one and the silent one when it came to killing. A juvenescent extrovert of sorts but more patient in her trade. She prided herself on being more skillful when asked but in truth she just relished how her pained sister rusted wildly into the prey. Whereas she herself preferred to stalk, stain and bring the axe down in one blow without the snack even feeling a thing other than fear, her friend made it quite obvious that what she wanted had nothing to do with anything else. Whereas she tactfully derailed the neck the result being as instantaneous as death itself, the hunt at one moment whimpering and the next numb to death her alias preferred to tear to shreds thread by thread. She blamed it on her heart, it had died of shock piece by piece and hence preferred to watch death arrive from a distance in a golden cart with dirty brown wheels. Sometimes she was questioned herself whether it was the blood she fed on or the fear. And she knew the former was easy to get, the latter was by far merely the most addictive drug easy to<br />
find and comprehend but not easy to make without the right tools and the right leverage in the right spaces. One would wonder what had pointed a twenty something old in that direction but the answer was obvious. She enjoyed it as does every other being in sometimes a small and other times a large way. And she had no reason to hide it from anyone. After all her secret did kill, again and again. The only time it hadn’t was when she had chosen a partner. She was Arial. And she was a she wolf. Be you a man or wolf or both you fear her. And no matter what wrong you may succumb to grooming do not pluck a rose or a petal in her garden. And no matter what<br />
right mat seem if you wish even slightly to live you do what she expects you too. Any more or any less would be taxed beyond repayment. The right amount of alcohol in water can get you high, so can she if you pour the heart right. As for the other she has no record of being sighted in good books. What doomed her calm oblivion was the break of sanctuary from the helm of the twin. The night she had killed her mate the one who called herself Arial started calling her Esmeralda. And conspiring with the cocoon that the other twin had become to her that was<br />
exactly what she had become.Rajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14521949812576502731noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971261807338959657.post-43452555062859559742010-06-27T11:49:00.000+05:302010-06-30T18:04:32.959+05:30Almost Lovers_ 'me' and 'you'It was early morning. Emily had woken up. Jake had not. Emily had slept all night snuggled warmly into Jakes arms. Jake had been awake all night thinking about Goldilocks and the three bears. What baffled him was that if he was father bear and Elvis was baby bear, who was mother bear? And then it had struck him Jenny would love be mother bear. And the patch of gold covering his arms and his chest nestled into him like a stone in turbulent water was goldilocks. And then he thought about the frog and the princess. About how when the princess had kissed the frog, he had become a handsome prince. For some reason he felt like a prince now. The bed seemed larger, the room more vibrant, alive as if a shiny emerald had been put in a glass of water in the sun. At the wake of dawn he had finally put to rest his love struck heart surrendering to the battle between dreams and dreamy reality. <br />
Elvis had been right under him frowning at his master’s fate. Maybe he was jealous but he was too proud to admit it. A week ago everything had been so fine. Just him and him. All day long and all night. But this lady had ambushed his lifestyle leaving him scathed in the glory of past tense fallouts and long lost hope turning rapidly to an agnostic state of turmoil. His master had been robbed and he was too hypnotized, no mesmerized to notice. He shook his head in disbelief and sighed onto the leg of the bed. <br />
What seemed liked minutes passed and she called out to him. It was a whisper, barely audible but loud enough for his cocked up ears to catch. And when he heard ‘walk’, he wasted no time in fetching the leash from under the dining table where it had been thrown last night in a scene of clumsily intimate closeness right after their night stroll. She was robbing his master but well he was getting his share of pampering wasn’t he? So much for loyalty. He chuckled and scampered to the now flimsily dressed lady wagging his tail in bland delight. It was morning all right but the sun wasn’t out. If they were quick in their business, he might just get walk number two this morning. And wouldn’t he just love it? <br />
He trotted down the stairs leading the way. The milkman hadn’t yet come so the bottle of milk at the bottom of the stairs was still empty. Pity he thought.<br />
She on the other hand wasn’t so thoughtful. Whiskey seems to give the best hangovers, but if you want to dream with your eyes wide open, leave it to love. Yawning she opened the front door and walked outside into the dawn. It was cold she thought and she wasn’t even properly dressed. But at this time of the day, night whatever she need not be. And here? Well that was quite a cliché. She thought to herself why she couldn’t leave. It had been a month and all she wanted was what was in front of her. Waking up fresh in the mornings, in the evenings and sometimes just before dawn. Sleeping as soon as the bed came into view after of course the … or as her mother used to write in her teenage diary. Eating in yet never really in. Walking the beach barefooted. Omelets on a frying pan dribbling on the stove in the wrecked fish boat they had made a boathouse of. Lying in the sun till the water hit their noses. Roaming in the caves most of the times being carried around by that darling of a man. Sitting on the rocks watching the waves splash against the black prudence. And yes how could she forget, being painted every now and then. My god that man knows how to treat a woman like a queen she thought. But in truth she knew she could never leave. She had known that since the seventh second they had been together. They knew too little about each other to try to understand the other yet they had no problems being the so called ‘me’ with the so called ‘you’. Imagine me and you. It was a strange feeling this. A sense of wholeness like a balloon full of helium. She smiled at her lost self and turned around to head home. <br />
Sunlight streamed in through the one window in the wall. Half the bed was dark and the other half bright. And in that half poor Jake was trying to find sleep. He moved and he moved and finally succumbed to covering his head with a pillow. Peace at last. The breath of rain on a fallow land. And then came the shout. Honey I am back. And he smiled in his sleep knowing that when she entered the room she would just start blabbering about how Elvis chased a crab today. Funny thing was, Elvis never chased crabs, she just made it up to get his attention. And he didn’t mind it one bit. They really couldn’t get enough of each other. He waited for that voice to start making footprints in the snow. But it never came. So he rolled over on his back and opened one eye. She was in the room bent over something he couldn’t see. “Honey we have bread and honey. Will that do for breakfast?” <br />
He didn’t answer waiting for her to get angry. If she wasn’t in the mood for stories she would get all red and hit him everywhere. And it never hurt. It tickled. <br />
Cross she turned around and put her hands on her hips.<br />
“Jake Matthews are you getting up right now or do I have to drag you out of bed?”<br />
He put up his best eyes closed poker face trying not to laugh. And then he had it.<br />
She came stomping up to him and jumped right on top of him. Then came the beating. The pillows came down on his chest and oh they struck his heart. Then came the fists. Right onto his nose and then trapped into his hands. Within a minute he had her under him with her knees being the wall between her face and his.<br />
“You naughty bastard”<br />
He grinned sheepishly saying “Good morning! Don’t move I will get breakfast.”<br />
He got up and she spread out on the bed. Damn she loved eating in the bed. She watched him as his pajama clad self found the bottle of honey and came right up to her.<br />
Scowling she said “What the hell are you up to?” <br />
“Breakfast of course” and he poured the entire bottle of honey on her exposed tummy.<br />
The rest was fun. <br />
A few hours later she got up to shadow birds and tortoises dancing her stomach. And of course that was Jake’s doing. Stalking one hands fingers with the other making all the animals in the world inhabit her little white tummy now shining gold in the sun. <br />
“You know you seduced me right?”<br />
“I was hungry!” <br />
“I am still hungry!”<br />
“Okay cook something!”<br />
“I would if I wasn’t too busy being your dessert.” <br />
“But I thought dessert is after dinner. Isn’t it?”<br />
“It’s supposed to be. But I can’t help it if you are all horny in the morning!”<br />
“You know who to blame!”<br />
“Yeah you!”<br />
“Me?”<br />
“Of course who else?”<br />
“I don’t know. You?”<br />
“So now I am to blame for your sex addiction.”<br />
“You got me started.”<br />
“It was a mistake and I regret it. So much that I am starving right now.”<br />
“Yeah! Starving so hard that your tummy seems to be all over the place.”<br />
Her eyes widened in shock to what he had just said. If that were true..No it couldn’t be. Hell it couldn’t be. She had had a period just yesterday. Phew! But what if she did get pregnant? Would he still love her? She looked up at him lost.<br />
“What’s the matter em?”<br />
“I just realized I barely know you.”<br />
“There is nothing that you would want to know about me Emily. Except perhaps the fact that I love you.” <br />
“But I do Jakey. For one why don’t you tell me why you live here? Forget this. Tell me everything. Right about now. Start.”<br />
“You want to do this?”<br />
“Of course I do.”<br />
He picked up the frying pan and sighed "then listen".Rajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14521949812576502731noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971261807338959657.post-52104655776283681362010-05-18T08:27:00.001+05:302010-05-18T08:27:52.637+05:30Tales from the crateThey say, the loss of a child is the exquisiteness of the devil. Add the sourness of poverty and all that’s left is colorlessness. And that’s when the hollowness of a relationship shines through like infiltrating granules of silica in crystal clear water. Two lovers once a father and a mother, once a wife and a husband, seek solace on the opposite ends of a bed. The couch seems uninviting. Or rather not being in the same room with the fellow victim seems pointless. And yet company loses its temptation. Talk seems utterly painful if not life taking. Regular doses of ache alternate from the highs of the city to the lows of the worms. It’s the time one realizes, heartache isn’t metaphorical, it is physical. Solitude seems just and kind. Silence means everything in the world. There is no need to panic, no need to console. No need to plan. <br />
Questions go unanswered. None can answer them then what’s the whole point of lingering? Eyes cannot make contact for the mere sight is enough to slay the fragile hold on the liquid glands. Drasticity is the need of the hour. Advices from family, friends, colleagues, acquaintances seem to say the same thing. Keep walking, it will pass they mean. Everything does. But sometimes, you don’t intend it to pass. You mean to be consumed by it. Your faith has been given the gallows, it never had a role to play anyway. Slowly the tears start coming. One holds the other as the first rays fall. Then they hold each other as the draught continues. One cries and the other soothes. Then the other starts crying and together under the split roof undetering the raindrops they stay alive if it could be called so. Gradually, hunger strikes. Work needs to be done. The man goes towards his fields, the woman to fetch water. Life continues. They cuddle close in bed shaking with the sensation of loss. The cots creak with them cursing the mighty for the fate endowed. The bed bugs feel nothing. They feed. The new phase of life continues. They paint their own faces in a vain attempt to move on. To the other they appear stronger. Inside they rot. At night they lay in each other’s arms awaiting sleep. It’s a welcome guest now, though it leaves just as dawn arrives and it precedes a moment before it. Sometimes it comes early bribed by exhaustion. The rest of the times what can one do but wait?<br />
The next morning they head down to their own destinations. With a morsel of wheat and tit bits of potato, one returns. The other is late. And then doesn’t make it back. The whole night passes without a wink of sleep. What if........? The fear is the question, imagine the threat the answer would pose. <br />
The next morning the one left runs around looking, searching, scavenging for her one last hope in life, her one reason to live. Empathetically, one nearly always finds a reason to live. In this case, it was the other part of the lost figure. Her search eventually leads her to the ‘thana’ where she files a report and then to the hospital. In the hospital she senses death, she sees wailing infants, groaning deathbedders bidding their time. In a state of mental havoc she runs around begging the uniformed of a trace to her lover. Somehow she finds him. He lays on a white sheet right next to a wild old man abusing like it was a morality lecture he was enlightening with. Her husband may be dead. She prays to her God before checking his pulse. As she hold his hand, she cries in shock. His wrists had been to say the least cut. It was a plain simple line. One that appears on a monitor as a journey man from this world passes to the next. <br />
Surprisingly though there is a pulse. The man is still alive. his eyes open as he smells the sweat of his wife sitting right next to him. He could have recognized it anywhere, it was his wife. He watches as she sits there patiently waiting for him to rise. She prays and talks to him. She talks of love, life and the son they once had. Even now, the memories, at least the happy ones don’t bite. Not all. He hears not because he has no choice but because he loves his wife. He loves her voice, the way she looks up every now and then as a humble request to her god to revive him. His eyes water as he watches her. After all that has happened, she bears to live. He hold her and cries like a baby in her arms. He mutters words of sorrow to which she replies, where would I have gone if anything would have happened to you? Didn’t you think about me when you tried to kill yourself? To this he can merely apologize. She makes him promise that he wouldn’t do it again. He is reprimanded and together they walk back to where they belong. They talk about their son and a kind of silence subdues. Then one says <br />
“I want a child.”Rajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14521949812576502731noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971261807338959657.post-69659096284280068262010-03-25T12:56:00.000+05:302010-03-25T13:29:38.051+05:30Werewolf_Titanium anestheticsHer sixteenth birthday, their first one together. He had woken up early and dashed to her home. Up the tree and into her window. Creeping past her as she slept cozily and then locking the door. He then seated himself on the floor waiting for her to open her eyes. The silliest thing really. But his tiny little cranium had pondered over the details diligently and efficiently for the past one week. The rubber soles, the note he had left to his parents, everything had been worked out. The thought of involving James had crossed his mind but he was afraid he would only pull his leg. He chuckled at the thought of what he would say now. His father’s old watch glistened in his hands. It struck six. The birds started their routine with a melancholy call. She stirred but didn’t wake up. He looked out the window. A couple of joggers in dark blue passed by. The morning gloom welcomed him. A cool breeze running over that dull faced of serenity. He then watched her getting impatient for her to rise. When would she wake up he thought? He couldn’t disturb her sleep. She looked so content. In black striped white pajamas with so many Pluto the dog characters yapping in them. How she loved that yellow dog he thought. He watched her bare tummy rise and fall and nearly laughed. Maybe she was feeling cold he concluded. So as silently as he could he pulled her shirt down to cover her engaging little tummy. He then covered her with a bed sheet. Another big Pluto on it now with Mickey standing beside him grinning ear to ear. She tilted towards her right exposing that black mole on her left. He remembered thinking to himself; she is my best-est friend, even more than James. <br />
Even as he slept in the fish house devoid of consciousness he still smiled. A distant noise somewhere rumbled audibly <br />
“Having pretty dreams are we?”<br />
And then he thought to himself, you bet. <br />
A week passed as did the next and the next. He slept druggedly having spasms of brief consciousness. One night he woke up. A fallacy in the drug dose had been encountered. And he was blank. It’s not very often that one notices that the mind is nearly dead. It’s not very often that the mind takes a nap. And when it does all that remains is nothingness. His senses were prudent his body aware of touch, smell, sight and sound. He was stiff and alert as one is in the trauma of fear. But he wasn’t fearful. Merely lost and disheveled. Outside three voices purred fighting for control. One was that of a woman, judging by the pitch, one not used to being ignored, very cocky. One was heavy almost brute like as if an animal were speaking, the third belonged to his master. He remembered it because of its appearance in the dreams. <br />
Master: He isn’t ready.<br />
Woman: Oh give him a chance for Christ’s sake. You have had him drugged for nearly a month now.<br />
Animal: He is just another one of those wolves. He belongs at the Fallow. <br />
Master: He will not go the Fallow. Ever. And you have my word for that.<br />
Animal: But why the special treatment?<br />
Woman: Because he is stronger than most of us. It doesn’t take time to sense that kind of power Tiny. And it takes an eternity for it to be born. Accept it.<br />
Animal: You falsify yourself. I pity you. <br />
Master: If I am wrong I will be-head him myself.<br />
Animal: it would be too late when you realize. I have no more to say. But I do wish to test him myself before I let you fuel this haste. <br />
Master: There is a long time before that happens. Any of that. He needs time. <br />
Woman: I ask you to reconsider sire. Maybe he should be updated on his uh…scenario. Just once. <br />
Master: I have. A million times. This being is disturbed. He needs peace before he chooses sides. <br />
His head started pounding. A pain started at his heart and led its way into all his arteries. His anguish sounded the trumpet. By the time it subsided, the werewolf had been summoned. <br />
He stood on his fours and scrutinized the door. Something was coming his way. Fast. Metal clanked against metal as the irrepressible sound of titanium blades grew stronger and louder. Sparks danced in the doorway tempting to be countered. He watched as if in glee of the incoming. They came close and stalked him as a lion fore plays his prey. Swords. Sharp ones, brutal but not fatal, not to him and he knew it. They inched closer. He merely blinked. He blinked again. and again. Closer. He blinked one last time and this time his hands were lightening quick as they took hold of the metal and he plunged with all his weight into the creature guiding them. Together they fell into the sand. One of the swords were snatched and thrown afar. The other slashed methodically right in front of his face being the only defense. A pain developed in his abdomen as he got ready to bite. Canines closed distance with meat and would have ridden themselves but had the sword let them. It glazed in his eyes as it aped a running wheel. Eyes met and raged.<br />
<br />
A cry cautioned them to stop. <br />
<br />
As if in a trance his grip loosened and the creature beneath him was freed. It kicked him in the scrotum and shied away. He stood on his rear legs and howled. <br />
He felt a pat on his back as his master exclaimed “Tiny, I see you have met Adam.”<br />
<br />
The woman spoke up, “Not bad I see.”<br />
<br />
Master: “Adam cover yourself and then meet us outside.”<br />
<br />
They walked into the beach the three elite. As they watched the first rays of the sun greeted them. <br />
<br />
He walked towards them hungrily. Although he was still blank and had no idea what was happening, his gut gave him the lead. <br />
Slowly the guests as the master had termed them in the air borne chat they were having turned to him.<br />
His master stood in the center and winked at him. On his right was a man clad in a black robe that melted on the ground. His hair was unruly and shaggy as he set it in place. Once done his hair looked like a double sided prism. The handles of his swords stuck out weirdly behind him forming a V at the back of his head. On the left was a pretty little thing with the face of an angel. She had flaming red hair that complemented the white robe that she sported. That robe was peculiar he thought. It flowed with the wind like torn muscles in water. on the whole though it gave a very feminine yet pulsing with the masculinity of a certain warrior.<br />
<br />
His master introduced them, this son is Tiny. They starred daggers in response as Tiny grinned. <br />
<br />
”I left my mark didn’t I?” He then glanced at his abdomen which started hurting. <br />
<br />
At first he was surprised that the little man could cause pain with mere staring till he realized there was a dagger inside him. Nonchalantly he took it out and studied it. The sight of his own blood made no difference to him. It was just blood now. <br />
Master then turned to the woman. <br />
“This is…”<br />
The woman waved him off “No need for that.”<br />
She stepped in front of him offering her hand as the other found the abdomen “I am Jade.”. <br />
The pain left and all that was left was a cool sensation where the dagger had been.<br />
<br />
He took the hand and kissed it out of reprimand. This woman wouldn’t have it otherwise his master told him. She was the Goddess of not merely beauty but anesthetics and drugs as well. And not quite apparently, she was the reason he was awake.Rajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14521949812576502731noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3971261807338959657.post-65115504166631890612010-02-06T03:16:00.000+05:302010-02-06T03:16:53.229+05:30Chapter 4: MasterA tear took birth at his left eye and ran all the way down. On the tombstone it succumbed to its destiny. It wasn’t the greatest of forts to lie in, but it was all he could manage. He had worked all morning and all afternoon to dig up her cradle. This was where she would lie forever. This was where she had ended. It was surrounded by palm trees on all sides. Somewhere close a road ran through the haze of trees. On one side of the palm trees lay the sea now silent and assuring. Dusk was approaching. His star had gone down and now the sun was going down. He spread his palms in front of him and reasoned. They were filthy. And what stained them wasn’t just mud. His clothes were smeared with the blood that marked his past as a milestone to his future. Would these wounds heal? He doubted it. He had cremated what he could but could he bury his own very mind? Would he ever forget? He was afraid not. And he was right. The burden of hypocrisy was too much for him. He fell to his knees and looked up at the sky. Fragments from last night’s skirmish played before him as his emotions danced to the snap of their fingers and the hiss of their tongues. She had stuck close to him and she faded away in the light of their love. And with every breath that passed he died with her. On one side he raged with anger and on the other he was filled with remorse weakened by the very presence which had once brandished his cup with joy. Now he was fissile and vulnerable. He frantically started digging up her grave hoping that he could plug life into her the same way he had snatched away a few last night. As he did, the cross she had made him wear last night fell to the earth. He wound it around his hand and continued, thinking it was a good omen. His hands were soft. The continued digging and varnishing had taken their toll. The cross electroplated with gold was made essentially on copper. Seeking the middle of his palm it stuck itself in on account of the continuous movement of his hands. He never stopped. And it continued to sting. It went deeper and deeper. His eyes watered and his breath quickened. The cold was anything but subtle. Yet he, in the middle of his search felt nothing. Night came and then came rain. The cold water felt sweet against his skin. But he didn’t want to feel anything. All he wanted was her to open his eyes. But for that he would have to take her out first. But his body was failing him. His blows grew weaker and weaker and his brows slower. His exaggerated sense of power was failing beneath the load of his pain. He shouted for strength and then he howled. His subconscious didn’t fail him. He was the werewolf again. But now he was strong enough. She was gone. Raging he ran headlong into the trees. His strength was back. That night many a tree were felled.<br />
He woke up sometime later smelling fish. His nerves denied him of all movement and it pained everywhere. His skin smelled of herbs and stung as if he was on fire. There was something warm near his legs. He felt it even though the pain was astounding. A soft hum of music was playing somewhere close. As he opened his eyes he first saw the straw ceiling and then the mud walls. There was a fire burning near his legs. A battered chair lay in one corner of the humble abode. On the chair lay the radio. Sunlight streamed in from the doorway. Till something cut it off. The something was so bright that his eyes pained to look at it. Yet he couldn’t close them for the fear of being attacked. <br />
He stepped in and his eyes focused. He was an old man he noticed. He had long hair and a long beard both white and grey. He wore white trousers. Around his left leg was a ring made of black steel. He walked to him and caressed his forehead. At his touch they both knew each other’s secret. <br />
<br />
“I am your master.”Rajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14521949812576502731noreply@blogger.com12