A Writer’s World

22/11/21

I used to blog earlier and I used different blogs for different voices, like I used a different blog for Kafkaesque writing, a different blog for sarcasm, a different blog for deep metaphysical writing. That was the time I was not skilled as a writer and had to use different platforms for different voices or writings. I like Kafkaesque and surrealism, I just like it, I don’t have a political motivation behind it, I just do it for the pleasure. Surrealism gives me pleasure. Having different blogs for different kind of writing including poetry, which at that time I had done unintentionally, helped me become proficient in those voices.

You see the eyes

And all I see is a pizza delivery boy.

Three dimensional suffering

A tank pointing at you

From screen of a television.

The golden compass

Makes you aware of new directions.

You call a woman,

And you don’t lie,

You just state your truth,

But you have to adapt,

Your truth with the majority,

And thus your truth

Becomes a lie.

Mitigated lying,

And minimalist Moon,

A healer hiding to heal.

Bulging eyeballs,

And sickening perfume,

You keep stumbling

Drunk and ignorant.

A dream with eyes wide shut,

Cocktails and mocktails,

Sensuous and vulgar,

Was the desire yours?

In the new city,

A hope was crushed,

A dream was raped

In the pretext of revenge,

A houseparty,

Do they have it in your village,

Sure they do have housewarming,

Just in the local dialect.

Blood and primal instincts

Become Inferno,

Ferns don’t have flowers.

In the holy city,

The gods don’t save you,

You writhe in pain,

Shooting orbs of energy

From your right hand.

The time stands still,

Energy travelling

In different timezones.

Lasers striking the bottom chakra,

Teleporting you to a different timeline,

A ghost controls your body,

And you know it’s not a ghost,

It’s just the voyeurs,

Parasites who prey on the weak.

The post office seems so out of reach, and the bank too. It was not that far earlier, but after a handicap it does seem far. Older people had to cross rivers to reach the post office, you just have to get over your handicap to reach the post office and the bank. While going to the post office pluck some flowers in the way too, look at the lemons they sell on the carts, allowing their yellowish glow to freshen up your vision.

Delusions, sometimes they are handicaps and sometimes they help you. Sometimes a delusion becomes a habit and breaking it becomes tough, but you have to try. You look from outside and you find a boy in a delusion, the best way to solve a delusion is to talk about it, gain new perspectives. What is the best way to talk about something in a metaphysical way, well, first thing first you got to talk about it. Desires can form delusions. Sometimes your desire to retain your identity can be a threat to your identity when you realise that you missed a chance. But on seeing things as a whole in retrospect you realise that you missed nothing and everything that happened made you even better.

It’s cold,

There is a fire burning,

And you are working,

At the only job you know,

Unknown people clicking pictures,

An alcohol shop,

A movie in which aliens

Converse with just thoughts,

Lies, lies, lies,

A lot of lies,

Enlightenment broadcasted on television,

A movie with environmental terrorists,

Fighting to save the environment,

When did saving environment become terrorism,

But it did,

No smoking,

They said.

Robots, controlled by monsters,

Clicking pictures.

In the pit of hell,

You marinate with your thoughts,

Chicken cross the road,

To make way to the tandoor.

You know the kind of world you want to express. It’s the world of mystery, mystique, Rakshasas, Pishachas, Daityas and heroes. A world of Gandharvas and Kinnaras, a world of magic fruits, a land where there is magic and tantra, where there is bravery and colour, where there are mystical and magical islands, where there is still a lot to explore, unlike the world of today. Where there are jungles and hidden secrets in them. Creation of a world like that is possible, if only you would believe, if only you don’t let your prejudices ruin that world. You know why adventure stories and comics were better in the pre-internet era? Because writers didn’t know too much about the world. And not knowing made them imagine things, conjure up stories, and they believed in that because they didn’t know everything about the world, and that made them believe anything is possible. You imagine a world where there are different planets, different galaxies, multiverses, different dimensions of existence and reality, and as we say in Hindi, different lokas. Beings from different lokas fighting or combining their forces. Beings from different planets interacting to make different stories. Beings from other dimensions wreaking havoc in the world and heroes standing up to fight them. You know why we can’t write good fantasies anymore? It’s because our knowledge of facts prevent us from imagination. It traps our imagination in the structure of the known reality causing lack of mystique and unbridled and honest imagination.