Kunjum Kunjum

I don't know about other parts of this nation but I have realised that criminal exploitation in Purvanchal is intimate and is done based on silly things like hatred of quirks and eccentricities of a person and even more silly things which are way too direct that it would qualify as predation, like a widowed woman, orphaned child, at the emotional plane, an adopted child, a handicapped person, a sick person or any other weakness under the sun. And this criminal exploitation is done from a place where people believe God resides, and a lot of time this criminal predation is leisurely and recreational in nature. The two important emotions that I was able to witness were sadism and schadenfreude and third thing is of course extreme cruelty. This was the most probable solution of absolute edge in power dynamic and it turned out to be true, a textbook case of Occam's Razor. Individuals involved in the setup are so neck deep in depravity and criminal excesses that they basically project pathological Rorschach's inkblot on harmless and innocent people. Fate then becomes criminal manipulation instead of God's will which it never was. These motherfuckers are always happy because they know the basic fact that happiness is the best medicine and they do not internalise their negative emotions which they are full of, instead they project themselves and their emotions and this means they would murder a person for the slightest of inconvenience they face and it doesn't matter if that inconvenience is their projection even if was not caused by the person they just murdered. As I said they are full of hatred and even for the quirks and eccentricities of people and they murder them for them. Persecution is whimsical and they search for reasons to torture and persecute people and when they can't find any reason they create it. The happiness mixed with the hatred within them, since they don't internalise their emotions, is projected in form of malignant ridicule which might not even have a basis and might be based on quirks of people or simply Rorschach's inkblot affected faults in their perception. The setup is essentially demonic but at the base is sex and money in form of rape and exploitation. Criminal exploitation of anything that can be exploited, personality quirks or anything for that matter. One think that I came to realise in the past decade is that you don't have to be a good person to create good art, which is contrary to be earlier beliefs, also you can make the kind of art a good person makes by copying him. This country at its base thrives on inversion and instead of good people knowing how criminals function, it is criminals knowing how good people function, and they play in possibilities, in permutation and combinations. To psychologically torture a person deprivation is a tactic that is used. Two basic emotions that are used are desire and fear, baiting by desire and withholding it and then playing in permutations and combinations and inducing fear in person and then playing in permutations and combinations of it. Torture can he applied on the kind of things that a person has no control on, which are essentially involuntary which can be retrospectively branded as wrong through some arbitrary reason.

Kart

What a writer ought to do when all stories are finished? Should he continue nevertheless? What remains then, except mental gymnastics? There are fates worse than death but the point is for what one ends up getting that fate. While the ones plundering, pillaging and raping have their air-conditioning on. Someone gets sent to eternity in hell for their identity, for being the way they are. There is no point arguing with your fate. Doing the best is what matters, in whatever your fate has store  for you. The news that is important is that those who do the plundering, pillaging and raping are the same ones who send people to eternity in hell. This is a knowledge that is helpful in making sense of things. Suffering inflicted by incompetents is way more potent than suffering inflicted by competents, it is because they do not have the capability to understand what they are actually inflicting suffering for and suffering of the sufferer amplifies manifold when they realise that the ones inflicting suffering don‘t know why actually they are inflicting suffering because they are incapable of understanding things and the secondary cause is the incompetents compensate for their incompetence by cruelty. There is a third kind of inflicted suffering too, when the victim is taken seriously but not seriously, and that means seriously in a negative sense, because if they were taken seriously the right way the suffering wouldn’t exist in the first place, a lot of times it is based on hatred. The fourth kind of inflicted suffering is recreational sadism, sadism done for no other reason except recreation. Suffering is inflicted first and then a reason is pulled out of the ass and given to the sufferer thereby closing the case, essentially victim blaming. Sometimes recreational sadism goes out of hand and it has to be managed and here comes existential framing. To justify the recreational sadism gone out of hand the person is framed to justify the sadism inflicted on him when the reason is just sadism for fun. When you see absence of God closely, you also see the strength of faith. Walls can close in and faith helps in this scenario. Life after a point when food, clothing and shelter are assured, it becomes about mental gymnastics. Though the food, clothing and shelter are assured only till the body is moving, till it is healthy.

Haystack

You lock in. Chekhov’s spirit flows in your nerves, it’s stream of consciousness. You roleplay Samurai Jack, trapped in the future with shapeshifting Aku. You turn into The Sadhu, but unlike him you are not a British soldier reborn as an Indian. You see the Dental chair, are female dentists in a parallel universe called Dentits? This joke is funny after two cans of beer, whether it is funny before that depends on your sense of humor. You prefer Cthulhu to Aku. Feudal Kerala doesn‘t seem as enticing after you have watched the movie Gangajal, same shit, diffrent language, better toilets. You pick up your Kindle. You have books in there that you are licensed to read. A gun license would have been better but license for books too does fine. Lovecraft’s mad Arab makes you inquisitive. You wonder whether the Arab was from before or after the seventh century. The magic of parallel realities is that they stop to matter if the stomach is empty. A lot of great artists and musicians died of hunger, poverty and depression. Poverty and depression are synonymous but one just can‘t find out what comes before. The art and music of these now dead greats are currency now, dead greats because they weren‘t great when they were alive. Did Einstein have a hand in the atom bomb? What if he had? And he did calculations because he was fed up of humanity, like Agent Smith says in the Matrix: humans are like viruses. Seems true, they deplete the host and thrive while the host depletes. Not All Humans though. Human Lives Matter. Steve Stifler and Barney Stinson are great while you are in college, after that you have to become Minecraft’s Steve to build yourself a house and Blueshift’s Barney to do a guard duty on your family. Predator’s abound, quiet place is a myth. Truth is spicy when the intent behind uncovering is malignant. Also, you haven‘t turned into an adult fully unless and until you realise that truth can be false too. It becomes important, then, to write a letter to your truth, every week. What remains? Ambassador cars, Premier Padmini, Bajaj Super, Bajaj Classic SL, they don’t remain. Snapchat filters do remain, and pizzas and croissants, and of course Kindle, and burgers and sammiches. Kafka was good or bad? It doesn’t matter, what matters that he felt, and felt deeply. He knew how a country doctor feels, he knew how is to be bug. He knew how is it to be the patty in the burger. The salami on a pizza that gets eaten first. While the country doctor is thrown out without clothes in the cold night by the villagers, the city doctor’s deductive reasoning doesn‘t save him from seeing spirits and fairies. The Sadhu tries to remember his past life, Samurai Jack is trapped in the future. A patty inside the burger buns wishes it was cutlet. 

Competent Authority

You imagine a girl painting a picture of you as Tyler Durden from fight club. A pizza delivery boy goes to deliver a pizza at a whorehouse. Glances exchanged, pizza delivered. A tree is being seen by a thousand eyes. Main aisa kyun hoon, the guy asks despite it never being the question, despite it not being the question he wants to ask, despite it never being the question he had in the mind and heart to ask. Guantanamo opens and he is waterboarded by blind enforcers to ask, main aisa kyun hun. Guantanamo is a subsidiary of Stanford. Yes the prison experiment one. Johnny Quest goes into the QuestWorld but he longs for the astral plane. Unfortunately astral plane doesn‘t really exists. It’s just a rebranded QuestWorld. A lot of witches got burnt, burning sage for the QuestWorld. Vacuum sucks! I mean it literally sucks, sometimes knowledge as it wants to fill the empty space. Everyone is searching for emancipation. Well not everyone. Some are searching for souls to consume and bodies to deplete. That’s the fun part about it all, body gets depleted by itself with time. You never liked Tyler Durden. You are not a violent person. You don‘t like Fight Club. You are not a violent person until it is authorised by competent authority and then the realisation strikes that all competent authority is dead. Quest World sucks you in for a show you didn‘t buy tickets to. It’s a happening place. You just don’t want to be there. You search for exits, you are still searching for them. You feel God inside you, along with the devil. God is a bit deeper and less active, almost passive. The centre of gravity is inside. Nature is outside. But to search for exits, centre of gravity must be both inside and outside. The external centre of gravity as a focus that saves internal centre of gravity from choking. Nature keeps doing its magic. Mothers are never evil, the most they can be are neutral. You are still searching for exits in the QuestWorld. It’s like The Matrix. How funny that Trinity is Tiffany. The code needs to be manageable. People climb mountains, some people do it lying on their beds. No point in climbing mountains unless you are bored to death. The avalanche of boredom can make you want to climb mountains. Ideally the external centre of gravity should be in temples, but those who can see it can see it. You have to build your own temple for the external centre of gravity, doesn‘t matter if it’s in Minecraft or VR. God might not exist but centre of gravity does, and so does the Nature. Is it cool to smoke cigarettes? After an age it is not. It clogs your arteries. Blind enforcers accusing the man being waterboarded of heresy when it was just hearsay. Sometimes you just have to wear the suits competent authority wears and use their perfume.

Sulabh

It’s funny that it’s mostly the ones who are proponents of open source who support right to privacy, kind of ironical. Privacy was a debate a decade ago, it isn‘t now. Survival beats privacy hands down. It’s only after you mature that you realise that it is illusion that runs by logic, the reality runs by power. Power has the ability of changing ontology of things especially when it comes to metaphysics. You sit in a Mumbai local, reading Nietzsche. Once you have seen the Mumbai local you come to know that people are animals, that’s their ontology. Higher concepts die in the stampede of catching the last local. I sometimes put myself in the place of a handicapped man or woman trying to catch the last local, and it is here I feel footwears on my face but also a boot, a huge boot. You see autorickshaw drivers, some of them are stylish, like Mithun Chakraborty. They have chosen a style for themselves. Their autos are extravagant with Bollywood actresses as brides. Even an autowala has the decency to imagine Bollywood actresses as brides and not whores. There is a time in life where you have to choose between a Windows command prompt and a Linux terminal. Sometimes you choose both, the command prompt to save time and the terminal because your heart lies there no matter how cumbersome Linux syntaxes are. Reality is the place where dreams come to die. Shekhar Kapoor wrote comics in the early late 2000s and one could feel the myth of the Indic civilization and then enlightenment arrives, the myth replaced by street-shitting. There is no mythic demon except within. Modi jackets decide the policy, but no one knows who decides the SOPs of biopolitics and necropolitics. Shekhar Kapoor gave hope, that people could write fantasies but fantasies need breathing room; they don't survive mathematics placed atop street-shitting. How long does it take for a civilization to collpase? Depends. But what if it has already collapsed? Illusions run by logic, reality runs by power. Though power has its own mathematics it’s just that it’s a little advanced.

Wheeler

People have things in their lives that work as milestones of lives, or if not at least like relics. Some people have post offices and banks as these milestones, these relics, thankfully not police stations as those who have them as milestones or relics have only two options, either a lifetime of hell or a life time of chasing and retaining power. Some people also have buses and quizzes as their life milestones or relics. Some people can have all four, post offices, banks, buses and quizzes. Enlightenment is a crazy thing. It allows you to separate the world from the earth. Flat earthers believe the earth is flat. There must be some reason, as flat earthers are not dumb. They too work, earn, raise a family and while doing these things they believe the earth is flat. What if the round earth is a hoax? I haven‘t seen “what goes around comes around” in modern times. Do good and forget about it. Karma is flatlining like a departed patient in an ICU. This happens when there is total inversion of the providence. When criminals become judges. It was bound to happen. This is supposed to be Kaliyuga. When criminals are judges, they would empathise with the criminals and punish the innocents. Can criminals and psychopaths empathise? You would be surprised. You go to a bank and fill forms. Government banks are sweaty, messy and filled with people wearing dhotis, private banks shine probably due to the fine they levy on people for not maintaining the minimum balance. Post office is kind of dead, couples had beautiful intimacy when post offices actually worked but now you can just send a kilo of homemade pickle to kids living in the hostels or some books or anything that is measured in kgs. Buses open minds, and are not as depressive as modern day trains. Depression gets worse when you open the door of the train toilet. Trains were good when A. H. Wheeler hadn‘t gotten extinct, now you just have to leave your lower berth for some old man or woman because they have knee pain and they are entitled to the lower berth due to their age, though IRCTC didn‘t think so. A. H. Wheeler died, and so did train rides though they still are the chief mode of transport for the cattle. Quizzes don't exist anymore. Losing a quiz competition is like failing an exam, you were thinking about something else when it was your time to perform. The lady in a corporate suit is eyeing room number 420, the boss is there. It’s normal until someone comes to know about it, and it has nothing to do with quizzes. Quizzes are just for fun, like Nature made a Venus Flytrap. Just for fun. You know what do rape victims have as life’s milestones? No, not banks, post offices, buses or quizzes. It’s a quiz but there are no prizes for guessing the right answer. 

Ram Rajya

You take a deep breath. Old times flash in front of your eyes. Everyone, well almost everyone, had Ram in their name in your region. Men, women, everyone. Ram was the ideal, he gave the meaning to people’s lives. He was not the Ram of today. He was not a tool for division. Ram was the preserver, he was the prefix in almost every name. If he was in the surname that meant Bahujan Samaj Party of today, but then the Bahujans too had Ram as prefix to their name as well as surname. Ram doesn’t divide. He doesn‘t destroy. For he is the ideal man. He let his beloved wife walk into fire, because a king had to do it. He let his beloved wife go to raise their sons alone, because a king had to do it. But before that, he went into an exile because a son must do that. There is no feminism here because an ideal man feels the pain of his beloved as his own. He was the ideal. He crossed the sea for love, fought an army with an army of monkeys and yet for his ideals he took damage, not because he was weak but because a son, a king must do that, a son, a king must sacrifice. That Ram was in the name of everyone as a prefix. You stand outside a mall in Gurgaon, you see prostitutes, some high class escorts, some cheaper ones, some trannies, some even cheaper ones. Cars stop and they climb in. Ramayana is over. People chasing ideals are dead and so are the prefixes of the name. The name of our King, the avatar of the preserver, the one who sacrificed things he loved for us now is used to identify Bahujans. They are the only ones who retain his name as their surnames. The eyes are wide shut. A tiered whorehouse and a harem has replaced the land of scion of Ikshvaku. The ones who should have been living the ideals of the avatar of the preserver, our great king our Ram are putting their dicks in the pussies of prostitutes. You know who would get the most respect in Ram Rajya? Prostitutes and garbage men and septic tank cleaners, because they do the jobs no one wants to do. My King was like that. It’s okay. Everything comes to an end and it’s okay. It’s just that people have forgotten that once there was a time when people had his name, the name of our King, the scion of Ilshwaku, the avatar of the preserver, as prefix in their name, men and women both. The avatar who sacrificed everything for the ideals and ended up becoming one. But it’s okay.