Tag Archives: Writing

First sentence of my Debut Untitled Novel

The cheap brothels, the rich rag-pickers, the intellectual lunatics, the clean-nosed bankers, the poison-spewing journalists, the intrusive housewives, the headless kings of third grade casinos, the skinny spine-less musicians, the weird beard artists, the innocent tit-suckers, the stubborn insurance executives, the wasted junkies of kashmere gate, the dismantled car-mechanics of old-delhi, the money-minded illiterate school teachers, the over-zealous con-men, the cute-faced scamsters, the off-springs of ambitious politicians, the fake historians of non-existing destroyed history, the evil NGO workers, the teenage nymphets of khan market, the mad readers of trash literature, the soggy newspaper columnists, the grounded acrobats, the enthusiasts of love, the naive fitness instructors, the juicy models from fashion streets, the psychopath poets, the uninhabited security guards… I wanted to kill them all.

 

Signed.

A(dot) 

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With Lust & Bondage

I am not afraid anymore, to tell you all, that how much I loved you all, loved your hypocrisies, your insecurities, your fears, your twisted moralities, your idiosyncrasies and, to top it all, your stupidities. I always thought that I should hate those who lie to me or who are fake in front of me but now I know that they are the most real people ever lived on this planet. They are real because I was always unreal; I had a quaint idea of my own discontented self which was so idealist in nature that it expected ‘Idealism’ even from the last trickling drop of my yellow piss. Idealism is such a shitty word which phucks your raw instincts so badly that your first not-so-thoughtful reaction becomes conscious of its own existence. Idealism made me think about every phuckking bum who was wasting his time begging for alms for his next doze of dope. It phucking made me say good things about all those bastards and bitches who kicked me in my balls so badly that my balls almost reached my throat, but at that time my balls were also idealists so they made their way back to where they belonged. But now, I don’t have time to hate anyone, it’s so boring to take time out and think about all those bad things someone did to you, and wait a minute, did I say ‘bad’, pardon me but I don’t give a phuck about what is bad or what is good (both are the same).

Until yesterday, I used to believe that ‘Idealism’ and ‘Honesty’ was a couple and they copulated, which in turn gave birth to their idiot son ‘Patience’, other idiot son ‘Morality’, their beautiful daughter ‘Peace’ and a hermaphrodite ‘Insecurity’. But today, I got to know that ‘Honesty’ had a passionate extra-marital affair with ‘Hypocrisy’ and they illegitimately gave birth to their bastard son ‘Immorality’. She, Honesty, was so charmed by his, Hypocrisy’s, cunning attitude that she gave herself to him. Enough of this family tree, all I want to say is that I just phuckking love all those people who are sleeping around with their bosses or licking asses just to get promotion or using everything to get ahead in their life because it’s the easiest way to succeed, Accept it, but the truth is that it is easy or in fact phuck the Trufffff, truth is always boring, lies are charming, you need brains to make lies. I feel uncomfortable with all those who say that ‘oh my god I hate liars and two-faced people’, if you are saying this, it proves that you can’t resist them.

All I want to do, now, is ‘wrong’ as it gives me immense pleasure in not imitating all the moral-talkers and phuckked-up Samaritans. I want to take it to the extreme level and then I want to see why this society has been raped by all those bullshitting moral lecturers with their idealist phallus(s).

The existence of every word or a being is ambiguous and dubious. We are tempted to do the wrong things but idealist thoughts chain the temptations. It is phuuckking bondage and we all so much in love with the bondage, we expect to be chained by morality, to be tied by sincerity and to be obedient by the norms of society. I don’t think we are weak; we are just vain and blind.

P.S.: The above mentioned views are highly personal views of the sadist side of A (dot).

Congratulations, you just finished reading it!!

Do you agree?? with nothing??

No Ya No No Yes

Signed

A(dot)

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Pontificated Babbling

random babbling about the origins of cravings of the sins related to that One who would never reply you back who would never listen to every word you tried to say or meant to say because all those words carried water and water flows like fire burning that hill of the catharsis like her nape of her neck and she was walking through the blizzard and breathing like ranting that you will never know that that was all just a pack of plastic lies of the majestic and it was carved methodically on her greasy palms by someone who pinched your eyeballs and scratched them and left them to leak blood of cicadas of different colors that reddened and then darkened the path where you perambulated all your life and drank borrowed wine from the broken cups of retarded cheaters and their swines who traded their time to stave off the legal confrontations with the questions of their existence and you thought that they will teach you how to sip all the melancholy from that empty cup of sadness that she broke when she puked her limbs on your shoulders and your shoulders stank of her sweet phlegm which you wished to gulp before it got washed down by the rain of cackles spent by the dealers of smiles and similes involving your nails and their rotten teeth that have bitten every single leaf of serenity in their eyes from where it all started and from there you learned to snort the irregularities of the occurrences of your inner demons who told you to burn all the mannequins down and throw them in the gutter where darkness flowed in harmony of inconsequential quench which you never understood and you never wanted anyone to understand as it creates the hollow complex walls of molten wax which is constantly dribbling but there is no gravity to pull it down so it is dribbling upwards and making a staircase which could have taken you and her in the basement of that haunting castle of your conscience that always pricked your ears to take that you-turn and fall in the swarm of intoxicated spiders who gave up flying because their wings were too heavy but their eyes were also on their wings so now they all are blind and intoxicated and carrying you on their bent backs with circular spinal chords with hairline fractures and their punctured faces reminded you of those raindrops who all looked the same when they fell on her face under that ugly moonlight on which you almost choked yourself to death but you didn’t die as it was not cold enough to glaciate your touch but it left smudges on those sunken cheeks that had barbed wire bruises that looked like wrinkles formed out of hazy dew whose moisture made more sense than any other sensible thing ever walked or crawled in your room of deep green walls with big white flakes and peelings of yellow snakes scattered all over the floor with etchings of her foot marks on which you slept after digesting every skeleton which you defeated with bare hands and scared will that was made of shattered glasses and the echo of empty chambers of corrupt magistrates with dusted files filled with all the obscenities written down neatly with one line spacing and jittered handwriting of the toothless clerk who died virgin but raised four parent less kids with torn history books in their newly bought bags with their obscure curiosity and registered mediocrities embossed on their upper lips and that is where the emotional turbulence of the dejected like yours took its rest and you dreamt of climbing those murky hills of her distraught dreams and that tread uptill her throat was nothing

 

Signed

A(dot)

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Why/How Cormac McCarthy’s – The Road – scared me

If you have read the book..let me help you reach the level of disgust which you have, I bet, not yet achieved.

Do you remember the scene where this Man and his Son are hidden in the bushes and they see three men and one pregnant woman passing by…and some moments later they find out that what they were trying to cook was their own infant baby? Do you remember that??

Well, I only remember those things from the book which kind of scared me so badly that I could not eat anything for exact three days. Yes, when I thought about those people who had no choice but to eat their own new born infant, I kind of leaked one or two tears from my psychological eyes.

I mean, SERIOUSLY??

Yes.. when I asked from my inner self that if that kind of thing can actually happen or if there is any possibility of that kind of thing happening.. I got a reverberated answer with millions of ‘YES’ess’.

What MORALITY are we talking about ha??

I know that when you will have nothing to eat, you will eat your own soul, those body parts can not fill your stomach by the way…and the best part is, we all know that.

I had this dream once..I was walking in this crazy park, there was no one around..I was all alone.. all I could see was…bones..some belonged to humans…some belonged to birds or animals..I could not tell…but that whole park was filled with bones…so there was greenery all around and on the grass-bed..there were bones..I kept on walking and walking and walking…I was wearing my brown gum boots…I remember that I was wearing my favorite shoes..they were made of rough leather and they somehow made me feel powerful..made my every single step on that grass, powerful..So….I kept on walking…I kept on crushing those bones..they were mixed bones…bones of humans and birds and animals and everything..decayed…I could hear the sound, the crackle..I don’t remember what I was doing there, or if I was going somewhere..all I remember was that that I kept on walking for a very long time.. after sometime, when I got tired, I stopped..I got hungry and thirsty..I started licking and eating those bones..they were hard and dry but still I tried to suck and bite them.. and that is when I woke up.

This book called ‘The Road’ is not talking about some post-apocalyptic scenario.. this book is talking about our very own sweet-looking Present…and when I say ‘present’, I don’t mean the gift..I mean the TENSE…yes stay tensed because if you try to go deep in the meaning, the meaning is capable to suck you in.

So that brings us/me to this golden question of Why am I trying to exaggerate the horrors of this book?..well, I have got my very own personal reasons..You want to know?.. of course…okay.. here we go..

The conversations in this book between the father and the son are brisk and emotion-less..You can not call them Dialogues, they are just necessities.

Imagine.. that you have no extra words, all you can talk about is if you are hungry or sleepy or thirsty or not..Imagine how the world would look like when we have no extra things to talk about..the conversations will be like – “Hey, I am hungry”..”Oh good, eat”

Okay I am not worried about the limitations of the words, if you ask me I am not even worried about the vocabulary that much..I am worried about the death of the desire to share things with each other..I agree that I hate ‘people’ but that is a very personal thing, I like sharing thoughts or words or emotions or expressions but..this book tells you that you will be living in this world where if you share anything you will loose your life..that is amazing, isn’t it?

You should not have any thoughts..only good things which you can feel should be there in your imagination..they could never be real.

When I was reading this book, I stumbled on those pages where the Man and the Son, accidently lands up in this house where they find out that there are so many naked people trapped in this haven..they somehow manage to escape that place but..what was the fate of those people? what happened to them later?? noone knows..they were powerless and poor and naked and starving.. they became dinner of the powerful people for all I can imagine..

See, cannibalism is not a thing which is disturbing me here, I am talking about the degradation and the decomposition of your so called structure of the society.

That Man and his Son, they are trying to reach on this beach where the sea water is black and the path is dangerous..the Man thinks that there is hope there, later he dies, ofcourse, but why he pursued that journey..nobody knows..

The son is the personification of some angel from heaven..he can’t see the bad things, he cries when he fails in helping someone..he has got problems with accepting the harsh realities of the times he is living in..

The Man or the Father knows that he cannot escape the reality, he has got recurring dreams of things which he always desired or his mental consciousness..but deep down he knows that whatever he does..he is bound to fail and die…he knows that he can only protect his son till his death but he is scared of whatever might happen with his son when he dies..he is scared that people might sodomize or eat his son..since there are almost no women left in this post-apocalyptic world. He teaches his son to shoot himself in the mouth.

I thought of living for few hours in this world and when I was walking on that road.. I got caught, twice, and people ate my fingers and toes and ears and nose..I could not stop them..they were so hungry and they were about to die..I felt that I somehow did ‘GOOD’..but what is GOOD or BAD in that world?? and that is the exact problem which we are facing now…I am confused..what is good now?? or what is bad?? If I am bothering someone for someone else’s good…is that bad? or if someone is bothering me..is that bad??

You can twist and twirl the meaning of the good or the bad..you just have to mould it in a manner that it will come off as GOOD FOR YOU kind of thing..The Road projects that..that book shows you the emptiness of the world where we are trying to live in..it can disturb anyone for atleast two days and three nights ..and when you forget about the book and its world..you will know that you can never forget what all was there in the book..After reading the book, all I can say is..May God Rehabilitate Humankind!

200px-The-road

 

Signed

A (dot)

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