Khed

How does one make their worldview? By seeing what is happening around. When culture is reduced to I rape your mother and you rape mine, the whole civilization collpases. The collpase has already happened in principle. Delusions can take people very far and when you have enough power you can have any belief, any delusion and then you can force that delusion on people. I pay attention on the basics. While growing up I didn't think that this country would be very simple, and this is because I was projecting. I was not simple and I was aware of the intricacies of culture and religion of my land and I thought one has to negotiate with the intricacies of culture and religion as this country unfolded in front of my eyes I realised at its base this country works on the principle of I rape women in your family and you rape women in my family. Both ways it's women that are being harmed. This is the base engine of this land (and Purvanchal) and it's not even an Indian approach, it's essentially an approach of Muslim tribals of north-west. The culture that I had seen and experienced was a refined one. That has been deleted except as a form of hyperreality and as poisonous sweet talk to betray people. When I became aware of the deep arrangement of "I rape women in your family and you rape mine", the region ended for me. Hate crimes in this nation can escalate to state persecution, and there is nothing except caste to persecute so whatever demonic entity that rules this nation gets intimate and pulls out reasons from it asshole to persecute, personal traits, appearances, eccentricities. I started becoming aware of the deep political reality of this country in 2013 and became aware of the rapey base reality which I could confirm through my experiences retrospectively in 2016. I didn't think my region and supposed hometown to be inferior until I got the proof and evidences of its inferiority, I collected receipts which I air for the general public on my blog. The best of it is that the kind of individuals a common man protects its family from outside his home and in public transport have intimate access to the lives of people and unfortunately these criminals aren't even intelligent and so they commit to absolute use of force but then one realises that if they were intelligent they wouldn't have needed to use force or wouldn't be criminal. This country has collapsed from inside and I have the witness of it. What remains is trying our best to protect our families. It's particularly hard for the middle class because they would be humiliated by the upper class for not having manners and by the lower class by for having manners and culture. The upper class is beastly because of excesses and never ending greed from never having to compromising as they simply murder people instead of compromising and the lower class is beastly due to constant deprivation and the good ones in lower classes have demonic levels of hell reserved for them. The upper class then weaponises the criminals from lower class and their mental pathologies against the middle class and are given intimate access of people to engineer their lives. Post 2016 I realised that rape and religion, at least in Purvanchal, flow from the same place and these bastards suck up to croissant eating motherfuckers and are ready to change scriptures and religious rules at the drop of their hats. When I became aware of the arrangement the first thing that I did was making a module of my culture family and regional and faith and consciously making it a part of me. These motherfuckers exercise hegemony on religion and culture of the land to deprive people of them. It's funny that it's the same culture and religion that they did not start or maintain but thoroughly raped in the past eighty years. It's an individualized approach so freedom is also sporadically distributed. The possibility of solidarity is zero and solidarity is also useless in this kind of setting. I write so that people know the diagnosis for their suffering, know that struggle is futile so that they can prioritise what is important for them. As far as Purvanchal goes in the past decade I realised that it's ruled by assholes who sell their mothers.

Flop Show Season X

The thing that I want to work on is contrast. I have no idea how I would go about it but the way it is in my mind is the ideal crashing in contrast with transgressive gonzo. This is the style that I have thought that I would pursue. I am an idealist at heart who has had his nihilistic phases and yet didn't turn into a nihilist because he realised that if one has the capacity of depth holding one's ground is possible. What's the point of life when it is spent in holding one's ground? Life should be fun. Though one should be aware of the principles they operate on and they must know crossing which limits their conscience starts to torture them. My whole problem is that I took the promises made by this country and society seriously. I have seen beyond the social contract that this country promises and I have seen nothing but deception and betrayal. The only social contract is that there is no social contract, but it's safer to keep your side of the contract intact and executing it on a case to case basis. This is a method recommended for a conscientious man or woman to avoid the throes of their conscience. I have seen some terrible shit, I have had some terrible experiences. The worldview comes crashing down when one realises that religion and rape in this country originate from the same place especially in the day and age when flying cars were promised but the beauty of the arrangement is that since everyone is wearing a VR goggles of their own needs and desires if they are not complicit in the arrangement it's impossible to make them believe it. My goal in writing is not to make people believe that rape and religion come from the same place, my goal is to prevent good people from blaming themselves, from becoming a victim of victim blaming. I accumulate a body of work that remains on the internet, that one stumbles upon and reads and they realise that they are not responsible for their suffering. It is for the good people who are scapegoated so that when shit gets real for them the mechanisms being used on them become visible. What I have seen is the extreme, a hundred percent loss of autonomy on one's thoughts, speech and actions unless you are conscious enough to salvage a little bit of it so that autonomy doesn't remain zero, and a hundred percent accountability and responsibility of your thoughts speech and actions and this is made to be inflicted on people by individuals who are irrelevant, who have no business in lives of people except sabotaging and destroying them. It is here I learnt that being jealous and judging people on completely wrong and baseless premises is a job profile. What I ended up learning is, to quote Tagore, what "rules the hearts and minds of people" in this country is incapable of judging people right and it is as entitled as it is incompetent. I have been able to see the base of operations of fate in Purvanchal and it is impunity and hate crimes based on intimate and entitlement annoyances for things that are not in the victim but the perpetrators which they project on the victims. The basic deal is doing anything with lives of people, hatching conspiracies which involve social engineering, existentially framing people and then blaming that downfall on either God, fate or the victim themselves. What I have experienced in case of Purvanchal would be a mafia dictatorship with zero percent autonomy until I had had enough and salvaged a bit of it to be able to warn people. My concern is good people because I have seen that the deep machinery of this country particularly comes after good people and as much I have seen the lower class, informal functionaries employed the feudal-corporate nexus of this country specifically go after good people and target their weaknesses which can be anything including lack of finances, handicaps, illnesses or lives of their family members and children. When absolute control can be exercised invasively and intimately, government just becomes a prop. Which it has been since always. Government can keep on launching Shakti Helpline for safety of women as rape flows from the source of this nation itself. It's basically Jaspal Bhatti's Flop Show with better architecture and aesthetics. India is a failed state from what I have seen and while the motherfuckers ruling the heart and minds of people exploit the natural resources and human resource which they aren't even brave enough like the Whites to do that to other nations, the culture, indigenous religion and the civilization becomes the collateral. With a lot of good people and family perishing from the face of the earth, leaving only assholes who can be blackmailed or co-opted and weak who can be enslaved.

Vishkanya

His mind was racing with thoughts. He had made sense of the world. So many books, that his 3 BHK flat was almost entirely a library, with one dedicated study, and even his bedroom was filled with books. Is magic real? He still didn't have an answer to this question, but what he did know was that something was real. He didn't consider things that could be reproduced by following steps to be magic; he considered them technology, and by now, he knew that hidden technologies existed. The government is always a hundred years ahead of the technologies that are public, and the capital possibly a thousand years.

He had researched, and he had had experiences. He had a PhD in Clinical Research, and yet he hadn't stepped out of his 3 BHK since almost a year, surviving only on food and quick-commerce orders. His dead parents had left him enough money to last twenty more years if he continued the lifestyle he was living now. The reality is feudal-capitalist; it's oligarchic, but it's also way deeper than that. But his background in Clinical Research had made it clear that no magic existed for the poor. He wouldn't be living for long, and he knew it.

Natasha was his last friend. She was into black magic, and she had made him curious. He found her mysterious. He found her stealing his research from his study and ended the friendship the same day. Two months later, he felt pins pricking his soles. Voodoo? That was a thought that came to his mind, as she used to tell him about the various things she dabbled in. She told him that she had pet negs, which were actually demons, and he never took her seriously.

He was a man of hard science. And now he had hard evidence, but this hard evidence was subjective. It was only hard for himself. She was a vishkanya, he had concluded, that the feudal kingdom hiding behind the face of democracy had sent for him. It's just that this vishkanya had the toxicity in her psyche, in her mind, probably in her blood and skin too, but he had never kissed her, never had sex with her.

He was in too deep. Demons, or negs as Natasha called them, possessions by them, spiritual infestations. He was in too deep and too strong to get afflicted, but he wasn't so strong as not to suffer. This was better than hard science.

He got up from his study chair and went and lay on the sofa in the study. The pins pricked the soles of his feet. He felt something like lava, just in a gaseous form, something like gaseous plasma emanating from his right hand. He felt like places were islands in an ocean of time. This shit was crazy. Probably, he was too.

He remembered his clan deity and closed his eyes. Anything reproducible is science, he affirmed to himself.

Somewhere, sitting at a computer, Natasha uploaded his photo to the mainframe and clicked the button that said *Infinite Torture*, among other options.

Chooser

Ever since he had that spat with the producer of the movie, he had been feeling like the beggar he was playing in the story. The producer had fired him and taken another actor for the movie. It was a rags-to-riches story with a romantic angle. He was a method actor, and after signing the movie, he had lived with beggars on the streets of Mumbai for six months, though the producer's vision for his character differed, and that became the reason for the spat and his firing from the job.

He was in his apartment, feeling like the beggar he would have played in the movie if he hadn’t been fired. He was unable to shake off the character. In fact, he actually felt like a real beggar. He couldn’t go back to his real self. It had been six months since his firing, and he still felt like a beggar, thought like a beggar. He had been to therapy, too, telling the therapist that he couldn’t shake off the character, and the therapist had told him to give it time.

He had stopped going to parties and stopped calling his parents. He had been researching heavily on the internet. His approach to method acting was proving to be very costly. He was finding it difficult to be himself, to bring out his real personality. He was getting choked by the same character he was playing, the character that would have brought him fame.

Sheena was one of the producer’s assistants and used to remain on the set, briefing the producer about what happened on the set every day. She liked him from day one, and today she had come to meet him, finding him miserable. She was sitting on the sofa in the living room of his apartment.

“You must apologise to him,” she said.

“Why should I?” he said.

“He will destroy you,” Sheena said, with pathos on her face.

“What does this mean?”

“You should understand by now; it’s not called the film industry without any reason.”

Something within him fell into place. Sheena stayed for an hour, drank coffee, and left.

The producer had employed underworld saboteurs against him. The technology of consciousness manipulation through satellite control was being used with impunity by corporations, and the producer had given the underworld a job to destroy him. He was locked in the state of consciousness that he had inhabited during his method acting. His consciousness was locked, leaving him feeling terrible, and the goal was possibly to make him commit suicide.

He didn’t know the details, but he understood that he was going to be a beggar for the rest of his life. He wouldn’t get any more jobs, and even if he did, he wouldn’t be able to act. He looked out of the window. It was cold in Bombay today. He went to his bedroom, opened the cupboard, pulled out his blanket, and covered himself with it. He got out of his apartment and locked it. Half an hour later, he was found wearing his blanket, smoking chillam with beggars on a footpath in Mumbai.

भगवान

अपने आप को समझ के भगवान

करने चले दूसरों पर राज,

पर सच ये है कि सब कुछ है ईश्वर,

पत्ता पत्ता, कण कण

बस देखने के लिए हों नेत्र,

दानव बन कर राज करो,

या वैकुंठ का ध्यान धरो।

सत्य से परिचित हो कर,

क्यों रहो अनभिज्ञ?

कर्म में हो कर लीन,

हो जाओ तुम भयविहीन,

भय अस्त्र है असुरों का,

जो जन्म लेते हैं भय से ही,

कर दो उनका बल समाप्त,

यही होगा उनके लिए पर्याप्त।

अभिलाषा

क्या कहूँ तुम्हें 

एक विषकन्या

या देवी का स्वरूप

जीवन में आकर

मन में विविध भाव जगा कर

तुमने मुझे विवश किया

सोचने को

तुम्हारा सत्य तुम्हारा है

मेरा सत्य मेरा है

नरक में चल चला

तुम्हारे साथ मैं

अपनी ही धुन में

पूरी करने मेरी अभिलाषा

भले ही हो तुम विषकन्या

पर हर विषकन्या में देवी 

भी होती है

सूनापन

सूना सूना सा दिल

ढूंढता रहा प्यार

कोई ऐसा जो हो उसके प्यार के काबिल

दिल की सच्चाई नहीं

चेहरा देखते हैं लोग

चेहरा देख के कह देते हैं

ये देखो ये है लुटेरा

प्यार देने नहीं

कुछ लूटने आया है

अच्छे खासे इंसान को

शैतान बना देते हैं लोग

तोहमत लगा कर

छोड़ देते हैं

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