Trauma Milestones

There is a misconception that catharsis is an essential thing. That a conflict in the mind needs catharsis. The truth is that it doesn't. A conflict, as long as it lasts, will create energy, and not in a good sense, in the mind of the sufferer. A conflict needs resolution and not catharsis. Though catharsis does provide momentary relief. Majority of our conflict, since our existence, by, for the lack of a better word, virtue, of the sociopolitical arrangement, is sociopolitical in nature. Family is not society, but that is for us. Those who control the sociopolitical designs take family as society. The individual is the unit in the social engineering setup, and everything other than him is the 'other'. Just like there are developmental milestones in a person's life, there are, what I call, 'trauma milestones'. Therapy is about visiting those trauma milestones, assesing the mechanism of the trauma in the psyche, it's effect in the past and the present, and resolving it. Trauma is beneficial for those who control the sociopolitical reality, because it makes people infinitely exploitable and controllable, so that they have a nerve that hit or pressed whenever they need to be controlled in later life, and it is why girls get molested in childhoods or boys are sodomised or some other sort of humiliation or any form of psychic trauma. Unless the mechanism behind the trauma is not resolved, catharsis would just provide temporary relief. The real relief is when there is resolution of the psychic conflict that is caused by the trauma and conflicts since people different are different, each person needs individual approach in getting their traumas resolved. In a political system run by exploitative psychopaths, people are just units, like chess pieces and their psychic individuality is just the moves that they can move on the sociopolitical chess board. In this kind of a setup, recovery is out of question and the onus of recovery here falls on the sufferer himself. 

Shire Visa and Hogwarts Entrance Exam

It is a decision, things one should write about. I can pick and choose, or write something that I always wanted to write whether it matters or not. I can go back in time in the early very late 2000s and early 2010s and find out that I wanted to write noir, or speculative fiction, or or adventure fiction. I go a bit further and I realise that I want to write pulp fiction, weird fiction and cosmic horror. I would love to express 90s comic book and magazine vibes in stories. I can use transgressive fiction as shock when it is absolutely necessary. I can write mythofantasy and fantasy. The options are numerous and I can mix and match, maybe create a masala out of all of the things I want to write about. Flash fiction is great to test the waters. The best part of it all is that writing doesn't matter anymore and I'm just writing for creating the worlds I want to create or exploring the worlds that I want to explore. Writing as a vocation if you know the real truth of existence, is over and done with. Yet, it allows people to access the worlds, fantastical realms that they can inhabit and explore. Like I can read Lord of The Rings and inhabit the Shire, or read Harry Potter and enroll in Hogwarts. It is a whole different things that if you belong to places like Purvanchal you might have to give income tax to live in Shire despite purchasing the book, the money from which does directly to the author, the actual creator of Shire. Or you might find that you are not qualified for admission in Hogwarts, despite buying the books, again the money from which directly goes to the author, and the best thing is that all of this can happen retrospectively. Transactional living is a hallmark of Purvanchal, and this how things are done here, apart from rape, favours and revenge are currency and it starts in childhood. You take someone's favour and he becomes your owner, and you will die paying him the interest of the favour taken and yet the debts won't be repaid. Of course this happens only if you are a good man or woman, otherwise you can just decide to fuck it, and learn the trick and starts giving others favours to exploit the infinitely. Beautiful region, isn't it? Purvanchal? I'd rather prefer to stay in Shire and study in Hogwarts. 

Anything Goes

I like writing stories. The poet in me is dead, but I do write poems for a special person who acts as my muse, and in general I do write prose poetry once in a while. I would like to think that there are stories in pipeline and novellas too, which, without doubt, will be public domain. Novels, again if I manage to write them, which does really seems possible in the present political setting, especially as it concerns me will again be public domain for entertainment of those who want to read them. I am working on a particular story which as the idea goes, seems promising but it is yet to be seen, given the mental capital I have at present, if it would be executed well enough to satisfy me. I'm just glad that I was able to compile my short stories and fiction at one place on my fiction Substack. When I was younger I used to think of escape, escaping and escapism as a cowardly act, now when I'm mature I don't think so. Though I think that it should be tactical. Given the political setting we live in, and in my case absolute individualised totalitarianism, escapism should be tactical. The past decade made me realise that this country is a big scam being pulled on people and I don't think deluding and weaponising people against each other at an industrial scale is going to work for long, and I am hoping to stay alive to see this shitshow unfold in its entirety. My own region, that is Purvanchal has not only humiliated me, but also got me humiliated by other regions but to be factual the humiliation is not mine, because I hadn't done any such act that deserves humiliation, it just proved to me that belong to an inferior region which was a superior culture full of love just twenty years ago and even better before that. As past decade made me realise that at the deepest level the currency of Purvanchal is rape and I'm talking about the part of iceberg that people don't get to see, the lower 2/3rds of the iceberg. I got to know about the deep state of my region in detail in the past decade and I'm just glad that I was educated enough to make sense of it. Education remains the most important thing in the world and given the actual hidden political reality of this country, even more important than food if you value dignity. I had no business in the conspiracy I found myself in, but it's great that I did as it gave me more things to write about. It made me realise, how now in Purvanchal, a culture that thrived on love, people become absolutely transactional as they get older and how my customs and traditions have been rendered performative by rapists in control. The basic currency at the deepest (and invisible) level is rape, and it's sad given how kind, beautiful and sacrificing, women of my region are. The method of exploitation as I realised in the past decade is simple, it's exploiting any weakness be it illness, handicaps, lack of self-confidence or any weakness under the sun for that matter. Good people, since they follow rules, are first to get exploited by weaponisation of the same rules, and their suffering gives the illusion that it's only good people who suffer. The truth is that it's a criminal syndicate governing the region and probably even this country, and criminals see good people as prey and have hatred for them and I think they really fucked up in my case thinking of me as as helpless as my people who they deprive of basic dignity and education and even food and in majority of cases even happiness. I realised that these motherfuckers who are employed by feudal overlords of the region, at this point, are doing anything to anyone, and to me it doesn't really matter after I realised the level of control present, but the least I can do for my lovely people and my now thoroughly destroyed culture replaced by performative traditions and for the privileged of the region, performative modernity, is write the truth of the situation. These motherfuckers are so pathetic that they get away with inflicting infinite amount of pain and torture on my people. It's nothing short of demonic, but then I have had my experiences of the upper echelons of this country too and I realise that this demonic and cowardly behaviour wrapped in incompetent entitlement trickles from upward down. Most of the benevolent faces you see, hide within them demons, but you just can't tell who is it, though I know the reality of a few. I have realised that the only cure of this is doing our best to earn money, and have fun. Rest everything in this country, since at the deepest level, it is being governed by genocidal rapists, whose entitlement doesn't match their ability and incompetence and they decide whole futures of people based on their entitled whims, is hogwash. God, until and unless, you find Him or Her inside you, after going through the layers of politics in your mind, only acts as a front for exploitation. Still, one must try to preserve their heritage and traditions as much as they can. I have had experiences and I'm glad that I had had them as it gives material to write and hopefully I can convert them to some useful and entertaining stories. 

Jashn-E-Bahara

Existence is a lot about identity, one of the main things the politics that controls our lives utilizes to control our lives is identity. We see the play of identity all around. I have had experiences in the past decade that made me realise that India, as a civilization has collapsed and to me the collapse seems irreversible, though to an optimist who has also witnessed the collapse it might be reversible. There are some filmmakers where you can trace their wrestling with identity in their films. You see Ashutosh Gowarikar, first with Lagaan, then with Swadesh, then Jodha Akbar and then ultimately with Mohenjo Daro. You see him searching for the national identity in his movies and looking at the political state of our times, I think he would have got his answer that this country doesn't really have an identity just a very intimate exploitation. You see Christopher Nolan too, and ultimately he decides to make a movie on ancient Greece, through The Odyssey, the cradle of Western thought in a time when Western values are under attack from the left and from the Islamists. The pattern is that the left and Islamist cohabit together until Islamists gain power and then hang the atheist leftists. Islam is not a religion, it's a second nationality which the believers in Islam treat as the first nationality for the most part. I don't generalise this modus operandi of Islamism, but it is what is supposed to happen ultimately. Hinduism collapsed under the weight of exploitation, and in its own country, and I have nothing to say about it as I myself am an atheist. And when a Hindu turns into an atheist in the birthplace and only place where Hinduism is a majority, that tells a lot about that place. Engines of Islam and Christianity are foreign, while Hinduism has not only been co-opted but also weaponised, with help of betrayal from the insiders and foreign intelligence agencies. A religion that betrays itself deserves to die, though it would be long till the common people realise this, that temple in Ayodhya is not built on faith but is a symbol of shoddy imperialism and has nothing to do with Ram Rajya. Indian myth-making, something that is essential for continuing the civilization has stopped. As far as films go which was my favourite genre of entertainment a decade ago, only way that remains is fantasy, mythofantasy and superhero movies. Though what people would get is works of voyeurism and schadenfreude as crime dramas, police procedurals and localised mafia dramas. The myth of India is collapsing, and with the internet in the past decade, at an even faster rate and it's a shame because we had thousands of years of philosophy, literature and scriptures. Feudal and corporate imperialism ended what once had potential and now no amount of bullet trains are going to fix what's been lost. I know because I have specifically seen it. The goal itself is exploitation and nothing else, and not only the feudal and corporate overlords are criminal but also incompetent. What remains for a common man who has his eyes open is preserving his personal and family lore which again is mindlessly tampered with. I like my entertainment, and so I read books and comic books and sometimes watch movies, the recent one was Final Destination: Bloodlines and it was a pleasant surprise as I experienced the late 1990s, early 2000s film making and despite being an absolutely gory horror flick it had not only family values but good intentioned accurate historical depiction which Netflix can only dream of with ill-intentioned forced inclusivity that only riles people up. America might be whatever as a country, but at least it has artists who are true to their calling and that includes film makers, which cannot be said about film makers of India who are basically voyeurs moonlighting as artists except some who have got nowhere left to go after Mohenjo Daro, except Jurassic Park. 

Piece of Mind

I compensate my not being able to write what I really want to write with writing about writing. As far as writing is concerned, my goals are fiction and fantasy, though I end up, a lot of times, writing non-fiction. I have options of things to write about and with time the focus becomes clearer and realisation of topics that actually need to be tackled arrives. When one writes, one must walk around with a pen and a small diary or at least make use of their phone to note their epiphanies as they appear. Memory is unreliable and thus insights and inspirations must be noted as soon as they appear, though despite saying this I, a lot of times fail in doing so, as I repeatedly make the mistake of trusting my memory. I prefer efficient living and I seek methods for doing so. I have cleared the clutter from my life and prioritised things. In fact my priorities have been clear since the start and before 2013, my life in my head was neatly compartmentalised when in 2013, I faced sabotage and my priorities got misplaced due to forced delusions and in trying to survive the sabotage. Before 2016, my goals were purely academic and research oriented in nature and it is only after 2016 that I got into livelihood mode. My first love is still research and I just find myself incredibly lucky that I specialise in a subject that can sustain lifelong research and that I have something that I can dedicate my life to. Money is of course necessary for hand to mouth and thus one must work and invest and this requires daily grind, but I'm glad that I can squeeze time for research among all this. I misplaced my priorities due to sabotage from 2016 to 2021 but they fell in place post 2021 giving me a better perspective and vantage point into how this country is actually run, which, if I be brief, is basically consistent exploitation including emotional, financial and sexual exploitation for the majority. I wanted to teach once, and it was not really something odd as research at most places comes coupled with teaching but ultimately I realised that teaching is the most useless profession (nothing against teachers, I respect and love all teachers, it's just due to the sociopolitical reality of the country), and is going to be one of the first professions to be replaced by AI with teachers just having ceremonial positions in schools and universities. It is all about self-study. Learning to educate oneself is one of the best skills one can develop and so is the ability of developing pedagogy for oneself. The ability to perceive true structure and functions and properties of knowledge systems and how they interact with each other is essential if one has to have a deeper knowledge about the world and its systems, both natural and political. Since the reality we live in is majorly political, it doesn't really give a fuck about our interests and passions. It's basically money. And you and your family would only survive if you have money, so passion although is a primary thing, it becomes secondary when survival is concerned. I write and research, but getting food on the table daily is ultimately the biggest motivator for working. Passion thus, now is secondary but I don't hesitate in accepting that if financial security was not a consideration it would definitely have been a primary thing. Since writing and research are my passions and seperate from my job that is treating patients and managing a hospital, all my writing and research is open source and anyone who reads my writing and research is free to read and use it without ever feeling the need of being thankful to me.

Sandbox

You see Inception and learn about corporate espionage, and then you kind of get a taste of it. Is subconscious accessible? The correct word in use for subconscious is unconscious but I like the use of subconscious. I do not think subconscious is accessible until now, but I can't say that about the conscious mind. Though when the conscious is accessible, simulations of unconscious (or subconscious as I prefer to call it) can be created. Models can be made of the subconscious given the conscious is accessible emulating the totality of every book, every movie, every idea every human interaction that you have had in your life and when this can be done, locking one's Facebook profile would only save you from low level criminals because high level dark web criminals already have the access to your Facebook profile through neurosensory surveillance. "Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy". My personal experience tells me that neurosensory surveillance is a permanent thing and it is stratified. That's how lower class people talk to the president of the USA (schizophrenia) and that's how there is no use for me writing the novel I wanted to write because it has already leaked. Thankfully, as of now I do not have any evidence that subconscious (or unconscious) can be accessed. It can be influenced, definitely, but can not be accessed. I have had a lot of experience in the past twelve years so I don't think that my subconscious can be influenced anymore and when I look back I realise that it's not just corporate espionage but feudal-corporate-mafia espionage in this country. It doesn't really matter till your subconscious is safe, though I would say that it takes a lot of realisations, of a very personal nature, and effort to finally distinguish your real self, with neurological possession. Again, this is how lower class women are possessed by Devi in India and other people by demons in the West. I have no evidence to suggest that occult and demonic possessions and divinity don't exist, though I have evidence, of a very subjective nature, that a very invasive, in fact totally invasive feudal-corporate-mafia espionage exists and unfortunately the government is nowhere in picture here, but religion, and this time the evidence is objective, is in the picture. Artificial Intelligence dealing with neuropsychological complexes and that includes, thoughts, memories, emotions, feelings and sensations can model a mind by extracted data, again thoughts, memories, emotions, feelings and sensations so if your real self is sabotaged and your consciousness gets a bypassed fake conscious state, you would be unable to tell the difference, and if quantum computing gets involved, possibilities are endless. As much as I have seen the world in the past twelve years, it is not improbable that a quick commerce company would give you social anxiety and fatigue, so that you don't go out to do shopping but order online from the app and given the true nature of this country, which if you are aware you come to know of by your 30s it is not only possible but highly probable. As far as my experiences go, autonomy can be a hundred percent sabotaged and one has to develop hyperawareness to counter it, which again in the case of psychiatric patients expresses as hypervigilence and paranoia. Again, the self knows when it is being invaded and thus reacts. So, it might turn out that psychosis might not be purely without basis, of course it might be based on delusions but the paranoid reaction probably is a valid reaction to invasion of consciousness and thus thought broadcast too becomes a probable reality of a psychosis patient. There are a lot of cases of remote neural monitoring in USA, and now they are also appearing in India. Schizophrenia cases in India in the past have been mostly of religious nature and in Christian countries too expressing involvement of religion. In India however it points of involvement of feudal-religious origin which after the 90s has become very American style, corporate gangstalking and remote neural monitoring approach. It is all only confusing when one sees the entity seperate and sporadic, once you see the centralised nature of it it kind of starts to make sense: politics, religion, corporate and crime. The manipulation in India, is at the family level and this is how families are broken, probably to sell more soaps and to give illusion of "life is suffering" but you look around clearly and even though Buddha believed that, life is clearly not suffering for all but only for the majority. The main variable again is does mind invasive technology exist? Or is it occult. Why can't it be both? And anyway any kind of magic, like I say, that can be reproduced, is science. It is here you see the totem revolving in Inception and you don't have answer that whether it is life or simulation. It is in fact life, and you come to know that because you love people and it hurts when they get hurt. The hyperreality around you, however, composed of pop culture, movies, news media, history, fashion and all these other things is created. Unfortunately, whatever is running this country has lost the plot, and the sociopolitical simulation has collapsed due to mindless exploitation and forceful deluding of people and peddling of substandard narrative and propaganda which again is due to the intent of depriving common people of intelligent and finer narrative. As far as the real universe, the sun, moon and stars universe, goes, it again might be a simulation but it doesn't really matter, because the love you feel for your loved ones is real, and it is all that matters. 

Candyass

Life can harden people, but one has to harden without losing their softness. I see myself at present and I have kind of lost a lot, but I have never regretted it because one thing that I have made sure in my life is that I experience things, I experience life. You grow up, understand the sociopolitical reality of the country and you understand that you will never be able to go camping in this country. It's just not feasible, you can however have a curated camping experience but that's not actual camping. You mature and you realise that society and politics, at least for the middle class, calls the most shots in their lives. So, you fall back within, to the things that you really love. In my case it is literature, books and comic books but, then there is music too, music is the only magic that is accessible to all irrespective of class and strata. Music is one thing that you can use to truly experience God, if there is at all a God. You mature and you let go things that you can't control, like you can't increase the following of football in this country and anyway sports, once you have peeled the layers of reality of this nation stops to matter. Still you like a few sports, like taekwondo tricking, freestyle motocross and wrestling. Having something to dedicate your life to is beautiful and I'm personally glad that I have such a thing. Earlier I was eager to dedicate my life to wellbeing and healing of people given my profession only to realise that in a country where covert but active genocide at neuropolitical level going on, it's worthless to dedicate one's life to healing people and so I decided to dedicate my life to the art of healing. You can't help navigating someone's designs in the political setting of this country, but you can do it in style, in a style you choose, in your own style. The main thing one must find out is that the dissatisfaction that one feels is real or not, that it's is actually theirs or not. The clandestine sociopolitical control thrives on keeping people dissatisfied and so one must work hard to find the actual reasons behind their dissatisfaction. The earth is beautiful, the world is not so much but one can tolerate it by using right tools. The only thing that one needs to remember is that present is all that matters, of course future needs to be planned but present needs to be lived. 

Frame Work

You think of being a reporter for Vice. You want to document the layers of darker sections of the society, until Vice itself closes down, and then ultimately you realise that these dark, chaotic sections of society are all curated, denoting hell on earth just that a lot of sufferers are innocent until they themsleves become demons or at least break to become complicit for survival. Comic book writing is a lost art in this country, and it is where you could have explored hell. The Indian comics today simply don't have the vibe anymore. Hell anyway gets home delivered to you by a different more affluent section of the Indian society. But they were stupid enough to not to do the homework that I have already been living in hell for more than a decade so it was just another Monday for me. It is here I realised that karma or consequences in this country amount to nothing, it's just the whims of the affluent insiders. Whole kundalis and lives of people in this country are at the whims of affluent insiders and criminals employed by them. Fate, then becomes real-time and of a criminal nature while the astrologers keep predicting the year your life would get better. Spoiler alert: it would not. Whatever you are facing, present is the very moment that there is to enjoy and make better as these motherfuckers alter people's pasts and family histories just based on their whims, in my case, as far as I have seen, it goes back as far back as 1960s. The fun part, there was no reason for that. Some criminal from Purvanchal decided that I must become Charles Shobhraj and then machine acted upon it, I however, am not Charles Shobhraj, I'm a healer and what I really wanted to be is a mix of Arthur C. Guyton and John H. Clarke. I however ultimately decided to be myself. But I realised that these motherfuckers force on people the roles they have to play and in places like Purvanchal they really don't give a fuck if that role suits them, the friction between the real personality and the forced role creates suffering and the demons employed by the affluent feed on it. This is a hilarious country, and as far as I go, there is no free will, I'm just hyperaware so I can salvage a bit of it. Life is riddled with booby traps, webs and conspiratorial designs and I keep dodging and I will, as long as I can until I'm finally framed in something that I haven't done. A person who is not aware can't, and that's the tragedy. There is no social credit system like China, because exploitation doesn't require social credits, just weakness, handicaps, fear, inferiority complexes and self-consciousness and lack of confidence. It might be that this is just the way of Purvanchal, the land of the holy city Varanasi and land of Gorakhnath mutt, but I really doubt it, to me it seems the case of the whole nation. 

Thou Art The Ruler

Enlightenment begins the day when you realise that the bhelpuri of thoughts in your head are not yours and neither is the jhalmuri of the emotions. If you are a connoisseur of sev-tamatar you come to know that and you also come to know that for the privileged all the bhelpuri and jhalmuri is theirs and then they transfer them into lives of others. You got to make do people cutting onions on your ass. Very Indian expression? You can use a fork to lift the fresh cut pieces from your behind. You see those who provide food to others, do not tolerate discrimination in food but living in hellhole where you in your mid-20s realise that people are discriminated and prevented from eating particular food items directly from where God is supposed to reside it kind of becomes unbearable, and surprise that too from their own money, it kind of becomes unbearable after a while as the wound swells. This is a problem no Akshay Patra and no mid-day meal is going to solve. Pajeets will keep pajeeting, it's sex and money, in form of rape and exploitation, always remember that, and it's not going to end soon, chances are it will only worsen and the level this shit is perpetuated it doesn't really matter if it ends. So while you are in a multi-level marketing meeting where lower middle class ambitious men and women take part is the "high tea" you can see the dreams in their eyes occluding the demonic lure. Who doesn't want a five star breakfast? I for one don't until I'm staying in one, though I prefer three star, just like I prefer second class AC in case of trains. Once you get enlightened you start seeing the demonic dance, in this ancient nation, that's going on. Where ghee from Devbhoomi is supplied to Devasthanam without procuring an ounce of milk, and gods are silent. Where Ghazals are pristine and rekhta but Hindi poetry has gotten extinct, yes I don't need to discredit art of any kind especially when, well "I'm something of an artist myself", but you know a big chunk of land has already gone "at the stroke of midnight, when the world slept". It hurts but let me tell you, you have no association with the land anymore, this realisation strikes after peeling layers of reality, only true real estate you have is your family and if we are really pushing it, your community. Let the bhelpuri in your head and jhalmuri in your body be, there is no healing from trauma and there is no recovery these are tantrums of white women. The rule for this nation is, your head is blown off and you keep moving and same with your limbs. I have had the absolute pleasure of realising that those who are the rulers of hearts and minds in this country are incompetent, being criminal anyway is a given. 

Chase

You see Russian mazes in your dreams. 21st Century is the cold war era for the desi breed that doesn't believe in flushing toilets in their trains, just the espionage and the chase is not on foot, it's not even espionage to be sure, just a shameless pole dance of cowardice and incompetence. What could you have expected from a breed that has been enslaved for more than a thousand years and only way out of slavery is betrayal of their own. It's like aiyyari of yore but not as cool. What if the astral plane is real? I'm sure that it is not as my very job entails seeing the lack of magic in people's lives, seeing them die of infection and clogged arteries and popped brain vessels. It might sometimes seem that astral projection is real but if it was, a man dying of hunger could use some of the astrally projected food. We live in a beautiful land where mythology is derived from the ancient kingdom of Wasseypur, so Mashihmati doesn't really stand a chance and astral projection, and most probably of a Russian origin, and now even of an American origin is used to fuck women in the ass. Age no bar. It reminds me of a yogi in an autobiography of a yogi, that he could manifest gold palaces and delicious delicacies and still yet chose to live in caves of Himalayas. Here is the fact, all famous yogis since the British have been frauds. All of them. Bin Qasim comes to Sindh and defiles the land and then come others raping, pillaging, and then come the firangs with their shame contrasting with khajuraho and ajanta and ellora and they teach shame and how useful is it which was already taught in part by descendants of Bin Qasim and the North Western savages who found civilization in a far away desert cult. One's got to take a stand some time or the other, even if civilization has not only collapsed but also has been raped out of recognition. Now is the time of loki locals, the wannabe emperors dealing with scraps thrown by West and Arabs. Arabs have it, they are the only breed that has been able to colonize not only in the direction of the South East but also in the direction of West. And this could happen because they have murderous, suicidal ideological force, delusional but powerful. The desert cult broke the rules of conquest and first they murdered their own goddesses and then goddesses of Egypt. Well, well. Do not cross the Ganges. 

Cocktail

You sit in front of an old pentium computer looking at beach eye candy and you feel your eyes burning, and a bit of burning in the skin to, it's just a prelude to what was about to come post the aquisition of a brand new Compaq Presario with an nVidia graphics card despite having an onboard gpu. The beach eye candy is no match to the milkman's legacy, the first, the foremost. People judge the way they want to, like they judge the family when it is society, or to be more accurate the nethers of society hidden under the underwear of laws and divinity while real divinity eludes the underwear as well as the masses who wear it or are forced to wear it. Eye candy is eye candy, like a centrefold of Playboy the Mansion on the Presario born out of Hugh Hefner's puritanism, but the Path of Neo holds equal importance, lobby shootout done again and again. You see Jigsaw making contraptions and you kind of see that he is right, in a very twisted way just not very accurate in execution. Accurate execution is important, which this country, this lovely multicultural diverse country as it once was, would know nothing about. Pigs, cows, chicken, sheep, are kept in the same shed. This animal farm doesn't give a fuck. How do steak and brownies become important when they were never the focus? They become important just as pizzas and croissants do, and subway sandwiches and while coffee from Ghana comes as black as it is, you realise that Anonymous are a scam, there is no legion, that it's Gangadhar himself who is Shaktiman. The truth is that it's a bunch of criminals who torture idealists, in this country and in the world and this is the basic truth of politics, and what is better to use for torture than identity? Nothing. You ask the girl for drink and it fails, like it had to and then you go and have a Blue Frog, later you'd have a Screwdriver too. That world did not exist, it's make-believe and it would remain make-believe in this multicultural, diverse country. You have to understand that if satellites can be activated to prevent people from eating pizzas, pizzas really are not worth it. You walk and go have an Oreo shake, and get jaundice along with your already going on heartbreak, and Anonymous at work to hack your emails and to let you know that it's .inc that controls the ink. Your ink is out of control, it doesn't have to be and it has no benefit in being so, but these are the needs of the times. It's just extra-curricular as the real work suffers and allows for a lot of time for the ink to flow to recount the stories written with people's blood. 

Faustian Odyssey

Is it about rock and roll or just rock? Just rock in my case, a little metallic and a little soft. Is it possible to love someone? Not really. Sunshine road is littered with dog poop. Do women fart? Probably yes. God made a mistake it seems, or probably not. God is not the reason why women don't fart. It's an odyssey, and Greek tragedies don't seem as tragic now, they seem just life. Breeding requires training too but it seems the kennel club is new in the market. Or it might not be a kennel club at all, just a Chinese restaurant where they sell dog meat delicacies. Johnny Quest needs a Hadji, but Hadji got buried in Taxila, his corpse being rotated on a vertical spit from where it's being chopped in slices to make Shawarma. Well, the paratroopers have schoolbags on their backs instead of parachutes. Jumping of a plane and pulling the strings of their school bag to let out public domain classics to read just before they fall to their inevitable death. The church bells ring where there were jealous and lustful gods, but god's they were and that's how history becomes mythology and faith becomes business. Is faith business? Not really. Or it probably is. Two currencies. Coin and pussy. It's what it has always been, not real faith though. Real faith finds its place on the cross or the guillotine. Dirt bikes run through a forest trail and cafe racers stop at a roadside dhaba. The cable connection is sorry for the interruption. Picasso doesn't seem worthy of Picasa anymore but Tesla was and Tesla is. It's crazy town around here. And a doctor hangs at the public square, just like a witch burned on a stake. It's a doctor's job to be Faustus, and that's how life are saved, but the kennel club doesn't want to save lives as it can breed as much as it wants, breed of every kind and here a Labrodor Retriever and a German Shepherd breed to give a Sheprador and then Sheprador breeds with another Sheprador to give a pure bred Sheprador, loyal to the boot and loving to the max, and he guards. Sheepdogs are dead, it's just hyenas guarding the sheep and also feasting on them. Chowmein noodles need to be thick, and have good amount of soy sauce in them and noodles must have lead so that Superman can't see through them. 

Impressive

The ice cream cake has layers, it isn't called cassata for nothing. The input filters through judgement, all of them, to reach the consciousness where you judge it, this time with basis but by this time the input has totally disfigured and you try to make to with it trying to form a response, an output. You try to balance yin and yang and the world erupts into a pandemic and it all stems from Greek gods and goddesses a locus plague, an ant infestation, a doctor being hanged at the town square with his degree being scrutinised through an infinite bureaucratic process as the blackhole of bureaucratic red tapes moonlight as police line do not cross. It starts with a noir antihero trying to be a romantic chocolate boy, it doesn't work. Harry Potter lives in an attic with cobwebs in his memory, remembering parseltongue of his ancestors. Greek gods are jealous and they are actually Mephistopheles, infinite versions of him, playing with Velcro nicotine patches to your leg hair that once you shaved in your childhood. Goals are clear, win yourself before conquering others and know that victory will still evade because victory as a concept is a make-believe, winter wonderland then turns out to be a better version of make-believe. Shit floats in the flooded regions of urban bihar while caste markers on the rears of car assert identity, and it's all about indentity, it always has been. The qwerty keyboard gives an illusion of Blackberry but Blackberry fucks off from the sight and finds a place in the entertainment system of car. This is the best way today, fucking off from the sight and you decide to do that to, like Nokia did and now makes shit that has fucked off from the sight. You walk with the beloved in the narrow lanes of Punjab town and you feel like a tea seller, or (better) worse, a gutka seller. Mars has rovers waiting but here you see a deathmatch with six frags left where monkeys are killing insects with supersonic missiles and sometimes rocket launchers. You strafe. You are safe, well, as much as you can feel it. It's all in the feeling you know. 

Earth 619

You get into the shop of school supplies and you choose and green and black bag. Green and black bag for an insider who is also an outcast. You wear your brownish orange GAP t-shirt and go to a birthday party, an eventful one where you have your first conscious tryst with sadism. In your pant pocket there is a ladies handkerchief made of towel fabric and it doesn't really matter to you, people might think that calf socks that you wear on formal occasions are compensation for ladies kerchiefs, but not really, you wear calf socks because it makes you feel like James Bond. You remember the exact moment when you were afraid of going in front of the vegetable vendor that comes daily to the colony, and this happened just those couple of years, not before not after. Green and black bag became a school friend punched in the memory like a hole. It was a good time, you lived in a basement and watched Winx Club, fairies with short skirts looking like ladies from the Butterfly music video. A couple of uneventful years can grow like a unending night and consume a thousand years of solitude, but solitude is good. You sometimes feel like being on USS Callister all alone, your genitals just like the genitals of dolls, in an infinite universe for all eternity. The only problem that arises here is of hunger and food supply. It doesn't matter though, since you are an insider as well as an outcast. A parade missed, a .303 not fired and a lifetime of FOMO. You miss not being in the loop and it's sad that a pulp comic book hero has to remind you of your outsider status. Your princess is coming riding a horse, and you on your wheelchair find yourself unable to undoing the straps, you have to bootstrap yourself out of this sisyphean rollercoaster ride where the ride is powered by your own pain. You have to leave the comfort, and so you onboard USS Callister, wear your helmet, take your parachute and launch yourself into the orbit of earth, where gravity pulls you down and you land safely. The only problem is knowing if it is the same earth where you had your ladies kerchief or some other earth and then you see the board, Earth 619, booyaka and you wear your mask so that they can't see you. 

Deluxe Nirodh

There are complexities to life. We all have our mental blocks. Realising the potential is a farce and the real deal is to know exactly why most of us can't realise our potential. When I was younger I had many desires, I wanted to see Indian football prosper and make it to the World Cup, I wanted India to grow and prosper. Now I focus on my own hand to mouth because I realised that those who control cricket would never let football to grow, and India would never go and prosper because it is the way it is meant to be, those who are meant to grow and prosper are already doing that since forever and rest of the people are meant for being slaves. I mind my own business, and as I grow old I realise that this country was always like this it's just the internet that makes us feel that things are getting worse, internet was a big mistake in this country but I celebrate it because it allows people who are intelligent to realise their slavery. There are only few things that are getting worse, culture, that has collapsed along with relationships since the 90s, two, good people are becoming corrupted because they are realising there is no God and no one is coming to save them, the stubborn ones among them are being broken with their wills which is ironical. You have to realise that except these things this country has been pretty consistent, no matter which party is in power. Scamming is centralised and it is the theme of this country, the scamming happening is just the symptoms of the disease, if we can even call it a disease, it is actually a way of life. You have enough experience and you realise that God itself is a scammer and a rapist in this country. I'll give you an example, Delhi Press, the publication that published magazines for women like Sarita and Grihshobha in the 90s also published sleazy magazine for working class men with vulgar stories. They didn't even bother to open a seperate publication or company.  It's not about sleaze it's about class based sleaze. This is a metaphor for this country, those who are publishing Grihshobha are the same ones who are publishing Saras Salil and I would go even further to say even Mastram. The main approach is keep the deprivation and repression and that includes sexual repression so high that black market, and that includes sex rackets and sex trafficking, thrives. I first noticed this style during my stay in Bihar. It took me a while to realise that intimacy among people is institutionally prevented to keep them unsatisfied and in check. Suffices to say that the providence itself in this country is a criminals syndicate and since they are criminal they specifically target good people which gives the illusion of good people suffering or God giving his toughest battles to his toughest soldiers. Bullet train is coming to India, and not Bharat, and I hope it won't give the cinamatic experience of watching people shitting at the side of railway tracks with the morning IRCTC tea, like the normal trains. You have seen public toilets too and of course the subways of our capital Delhi where you can step on human excreta if you are not walking carefully. You have to realise that a country that fails to teach its citizens toilet etiquettes has either failed or never existed in the first place. You might think I'm too pessimistic but the truth is that I've stared into the actual soul of this nation for way too long. Earlier there were four or at max six social strata now they are chopping and creating strata like vegetables locking people in their strata forever while allowing class mobility to assholes who will sell their souls at a drop of a hat. A good man's life is spent in saving his ass, from the law and from criminals. The currency for Jews is money, the currency for Muslims is fear and the currency for Hindus is rape, and it takes a while to realise that these motherfuckers are actually not Hindus but 'Hindoos' properly chosen by the British to actually transfer the power while the nation awoke "at the stroke of midnight". You mature and you realise that only true constitution in this country is rape and they propagate it like a multilevel marketing scheme by making more rapist so that they aren't opposed, or if they can't make someone a rapist then frame them as one. It's only due to the law of physics, that power travels from above downwards, you see civilizational cucks becoming rapists, and adapting rape as their constitution.

Kafka's Wet Dream

You gain enough experience and the complexity of life settles down. When you strip life down to its bare essentials it comes to family, money and your work, and for recreation your interests and hobbies. Some people are focused on these things since the start, some however are delusional that there is something greater, something deeper to life. Spoiler alert: there is not. You can learn this thing the easy way or the hard way. Still if you'd insist for something deeper in life know that it's nothing more than truth and love. We are living in a time where the simulacra and the hyperreality that had been built in this country all through 70s, 80s and 90s is collapsing in real-time. Believing in God, seeing the circumstances unfolding in this country, is optional but recommended so that you can avoid being persecuted for being an atheist. The national animal of India is a Bengal Tiger, but the real national animal, if we consider the collective souls of those who actually rule this nation, is a rabid dog. My personal stance on religion is nuanced, I don't really believe in God and am politically an atheist but despite that I have faith in Mother Goddesses. You experience spirituality and you realise that you can manifest God, any form that you believe in, like I manifest Divine Mother and confide in her forms. I through my experiences all these years have realised that rest of it all is just reward and punishment political bullshit which of course in a totalitarian setting, especially post 2010s, one has to comply with if they want to exist. The ones ruling this country finally opted for absolute totalitarianism, which was kind of the scene earlier also, but in the 2010s there was one more dimension that got added to it, that is the internet. The internet is not only a convenience, but it is also a ledger of things that the entity that governs lives uses to frame people because internet, for the uninitiated, works as a space to be uninhibited. I have been there, in early 2000s during Yahoo Messenger days I used to go to Harry Potter Chatrooms and roleplay Harry Potter characters. I have seen shit happening and an intelligent person thus would use the internet only for banking and expressing things that they don't fear consequences of and if they are lazy, ordering things from e-commerce and quick commerce websites. I write exactly what I want to write and I don't fear consequences of my words because I really believe in what I say. My stance however is that people should be able to say what they don't believe in too, which is the basis of comedy. I see Gen Z making memes and the times we are living in, I see consequences for them in the future. Social media, one has to realise, was only good in this country till Orkut, it's now a platform that has been weaponised and turned into a brothel where you pimp yourself. The financial machine exploits people by depriving them of attention and intimacy so that they use social media to express, and this is useful to the machine in several ways. If you have noticed, most of social media in this country is just expression of lack of intimacy, deprivation and discrimination in various forms. Except food videos. This is not the west, where people have true freedom of expression, well at least till now. We are living in a state of unsaid social curfew and active social engineering while the ones above engage in mindless rape and exploitation. I have had my experiences and the personality profile of the true soul that governs this nation is of a criminally insane rapist. And it is how I know that existence of God, the way we learn it while growing up, is out of question. But here is the trick, you have to save your traditions, your culture, both your colloquial culture and standard culture and mythology. I suggest making modules of them, your cultures at every level and making a part of your personality. You must never be ashamed of being who you are, personally, socially and culturally and you have to work on finding out what is it you truly love and believe in, which is extremely hard in the present political scenario, but once done, totally worth it. 

Write Concepts 18

I have been filing my writings at their respective places, blogs and locations and I think it would take me some time before I finish that job. I have been thinking about focusing on bigger bodies of work but then I have been suffering with writer's block. In my younger years I used to have a flow, that flow has been missing for quite a while now. It feels as if I have lost the access to the source. And so I have to craft stories. I still get flashes of inspiration once in a while and sometimes it feels, even if for a moment, that the flow is back but it doesn't really last more than few minutes. Crafting stories is not as much fun as writing them, and since I have had the latter pleasure, I miss it. Once I have done filing my writings at their respective locations, that is, their respective blogs I might actually focus on bigger bodies of work but that seems a far cry given my short attention span at present and lack of flow. I'm, however, trying to get in the centre of what I want to write, what I want to achieve in writing and the genres I want to write. I do try to write bigger bodies of work in my free time but my first rule for writing is that I must like what I'm writing and so I discard what I have written and file it for future reference. My goal is writing pulp fiction with literary quality, and I know that it's a big goal. I have the genres I want to write and mix and the vibes I want to create and recreate laid out, what is lacking is the execution and that seems out of reach at present due to the writer's block. I, while I lack the flow and suffering with writer's block, am trying to work on the craft, the techniques and technicalities for crafting tales. I mean while I appreciate traditional storytelling and tropes I don't mind eschewing the rules for achieving what I really want to achieve. And although I have bigger bodies of work including novellas, short story series and short stories planned due to my attention span at present I'm focusing on flash fiction and prose poetry. I have let go of poetry as my poetry at present is dependent on a singular muse and I have lost touch with her. 

Ashtabhuj Advent: Chapter 3, Scene 1

At an undisclosed location in jungles of Himachal Pradesh a villa was illuminated with light deep inside the snow covered jungle. Inside there were five individuals, three men and two women, sitting on sofas in the living room of the villa as wood in the fireplace burnt.

"Two new recruits, isn't it?"

"You know it."

The man who asked the question was around sixty five years in age, well built with a beard and a hald head he wore a suit. The woman who replied to him was a a stocky lady in her late fifties wearing a gown.

"When will he learn?" The bald man in suit said.

"You know that he is incorrigible, Rajan," The woman said.

The other three sat and listened to their exchange. A lanky, sharp nosed thin man in his late fourties, a man in his early fifties and the woman who was thin with a sharp nose in her late fourties. The stocky lady was Natasha Kumar, the bald man was Rajan Mackenzie, the owner of Mackenzie-Brown Corporation. The man with the sharp nose was Sharad Singh, a politician, businessman and philanthropist from Indraprastha city, the man in his early fifties was Dushyant Chopra CEO and owner of BrightLight Industries, and the woman in her late fourties was Sumona Dey the chancellor of Riverford University.

"Bhattacharya needs to be taught a lesson," said Dey.

"All in due time," said Natasha Kumar.

"We all know what our priorities are," said Rajan Mackenzie. "We killed Balraj and here he is with two more."

"Balraj was tough to kill, all of those trained by Bhattacharya are," said Sharad Singh.

"The problem with Bhattacharya and company is that he has no masters and we despite being better than him in every respect, have masters whom we are answerable to," said Macheznzie.

"But you know that he has friends all over the world," said Dushyant Chopra.

"So do we," said Natasha Kumar. "He is not as strong as us, it's just that he and his band doesn't give up. We have the whole system with us, it's just that we can't go all out on him as that would wake people up."

"What are our occultists doing?" asks Sumona looking at Natasha.

"They are reaching somewhere," said Natasha. "They have been working, and if everything goes well, we would have so much power that we would easily crush Bhattacharya and company."

"What about the relics?" Asked Dushyant Chopra.

"We have different teams all over India and abroad working on acquiring them. You know that there are a lot of them. Bhattacharya depends on his small group of people to acquire them, and we have more people at our disposal to acquiring them," said Natasha.

"Bhattacharya always locates relics before us, and we despite having so much resources at our disposal fail to locate them before him. That's one reason to not to destroy him before we accumulate enough relics," said Mackenzie looking at the group.

"It was Balraj who located Shershah Suri's ring in Patna, isn't it, and then died protecting it, that bastard was hard to kill," said Sharad Singh.

"We have the ring and now we are locating Humayun's dagger, it is somewhere near Lucknow but we don't know the pinpoint location," said Natasha.

"Wait for Bhattacharya to locate it, we have access to their minds, we know what they think, how hard is it going to be?" said Dushyant Chopra.

Mackenzie looks at Dushyant, "You know how hard it is, it's not a joke, he and his group of idiots are tough, and he selects toughest of the lot. You might not have access to our minds but he has access to minds of other people, and his selection of people is impeccable, that idealistic bastard.".

In Kalpa it was almost the break of dawn. Jay woke up and sat on his bed. It was a whole new life and he had some revelations in the last few days. The first day he was pranked by the members of Ashtabhuj who kept him in dark about what was to be done. They acted secretive and suspicious until next day when Naaz said it was nothing like that. But what he came across was strange still. He was about to be part of a group that hunted relics in parts of India and the world, and they had to do it before their adversaries did it. He knew that there was one more guy as new as him in the campus, and that his name was Vedant. He was going to be trained for being his handler. He asked whether all of them had handlers, and they said no, it was strange that it was only him that had a handler, but he ascribed it to being new to the group. He had visited Building 9, where Vedant would visit today. When he had visited Building 9 he was made to wear a helmet and training modules were downloaded in his head. Vedant would go through the same process today, but unlike Vedant he would have to go through physical training as well as his job was mostly field work, he had to work with others to locate and acquire relics in different part of the country and the world. As much as he was told, these relics contained power that made the ones who possessed then powerful and they had to be acquired first by the university to prevent them from falling into wrong hands. 

Jay looked out the window of his room. It has started snowing. Prithvi, Naaz, Sukhbir, Vinayak and Carol lived in the manner, while Dr. Rajesh and Sharanya came just to eat and mostly remained outside. They had their own flats in the university in addition to rooms in the manor. Sharanya had said that she would bring Vedant at the manor in the evening when the training module is downloaded in his head. He has been feeling great since the the training module was downloaded in his brain. Imagine having the knowledge of millions of books downloaded into your head without you ever reading them. Imagine thinking about something and that information popping up into your head effortlessly, that's what it felt like, it felt great, and that would happen to Vedant today. Sharanya had told him that he was chosen by the professor for two purposes, to be his handler and to fight against the adversary at the psychic level. He could access Vedant's file in his head, but he didn't want to make preconceived notions about him. He wanted to meet him. He was waiting eagerly for the evening to come.

It was 9:15 in the morning. Vedant was sitting on a chair in the lab in Building 9 wearing what looked like a helmet. He had met Prithvi briefly when he arrived, just basic introductions, and then he was made to sit on a chair.

Dr. Sharanya was standing in front of a large screen. "We will begin the download process when you are ready, Vedant," said Dr. Sharanya.

"I'm ready," said Vedant. 

Dr. Rajesh and Prithvi looked at the large screen. Dr. Sharanya pressed a button on a keyboard and Vedant drifted into sleep.

He woke up and looked at the clock in the lab. It was 5:15 in the evening exactly eight hours since he slept off on the chair.

Dr. Sharanya who was sitting on a chair besides him got up and came to him. "How are you feeling Vedant?" She asked.

Vedant thought for a bit and felt a rush of information in his head like never before. There was no headache, no paranoia, no feeling like the Antichrist. There was a lightness in his head.

"To tell you the truth doctor, I have never felt better," he said to Sharanya. Dr. Rajesh and Prithvi smiled at his answer and so did Sharanya.

Prithvi comes to Vedant. "It's now time to meet your new friend. Get up and come with me," Prithvi said removing the helmet thing from the head of Vedant. Vedant gets up.

"Go and meet Jay, I and Sharanya have some work to do in the lab, we will meet you later," said Dr. Rajesh.

Vedant got out of Building 9 with Prithvi and hopped on Prithvi's cruiser on with him. Prithvi started the bike and rode towards the manor.

At the manor, Naaz, Sukhbir, Vinayak Carol and Dinesh were waiting for Vedant. Jay was in his room.

Naaz heard the sound of Prithvi's cruiser and told Dinesh to go and call Jay. Dinesh darted. As soon as Jay reached in the hall, he saw Prithvi and a young man entering the hall. Naaz welcomed them and they all sat on the sofas in the hall. Naaz introduced Vedant to everyone, and at last to Jay who then got up shook hands with Vedant. Vedant had kind eyes as Jay had noticed. To Vedant Jay looked like a tough but friendly person. Naaz asked Dinesh to bring tea for everyone. Vedant was about to stay the evening in the manor getting to know everyone. Jay decided to wait till the last to have conversation with Vedant. 

Ashtabhuj Advent: Chapter 2, Scene 2

Vedant woke up on the sofa with laptop still running on the table. He had spent a good time researching about university on the internet. He looked at the clock in the living room. It was 5'o clock in the morning. He closed the laptop, got up and looked out of the window. The outsides were covered in a fresh blanket of snow. The forest outside was totally white and in the darkness, the sun had still not risen. He goes to the kitchen and prepares the coffee machine for a coffee. After making himself a mug full of coffee he sits down on the sofa looking intently at the flames in the electric fireplace. It was a new beginning for him. He sips his coffee in silence, in warmth of the living room. He had a good sleep tonight and the best part, he had no dreams at all. The headache was better and he was feeling good. He had researched about the professor last night and he came to know that the professor was adopted son of, Dr. Shubhendu Bhattacharya, the son of Dr. Sudeep Bhattacharya, a renowned archaeologist, who had founded this university in 1947. Dr. Shubhendu himself was a renowned neurologist. The first chancellor of the university was Dr. Sudeep, then Dr. Shubhendu and now it was the professor. Professor too, just like his father, is a neurologist and does clinics two days a week for the underprivileged of Kalpa. Vedant had realised that something bigger than just academics and research is going on in this university. The university is one of the best universities in the country, but it it has its own rules of admitting students. The university randomly selects students, from among those who have applied and even those who haven't. There are various faculties, ranging from arts and sciences to economics, medicine and technology and there is continuous research that goes on in the university. Vedant was pondering on what he researched at night and the phone he had recieved in the parcel that was kept on the table rang. He picked up. "Hello Vedant, Rajesh here." "Hello sir," he replied. "Vedant get ready by 9 am. I will come to pick you up. We are going to the professor where he will brief you about what you have to do." "Sure sir," Vedant said and cut the call. He looked at the clock. It was 6'o clock. He got up went to the bedroom and started arranging the content of his bag in the bedroom cupboard.

9 am when Dr. Rajesh arrived he was ready. They went to the ground floor in the lift and got into the car. "Sir if you don't mind me asking, what do you do here?" Vedant asked Dr. Rajesh in the car. "There is nothing to mind. I do what professor say, but my day job here is that of a professor of theoretical physics." Dr Rajesh said, smiling. They had reached professors bungalow. Professor was having tea when they entered the living room of the bunglow. The fireplace had kept the room warm. Professor saw them and smiled. "Come you two, have tea with me." He said and the called, "Rustom!", a tall lanky man in his mid 30s dressed in a suit comes. "Can you help them with some tea?" "Sure sir!" Rustom bows and proceeds to pour tea for Dr. Rajesh and Vedant.

"Did you like your new home Vedant?" Professor asked.

"Yes sir, thank you for the beautiful house."

Professor smiled, "Today I have called you to tell you about what you'd do here. We are in a state of war Vedant. And we need people like you. There is a reason we have chosen you for the job that you are supposed to do, and we hope that you'd trust us. There is one more person who has come to Kalpa, his name is Jyotirmay, you two are the new inductions into the work that we do here, though the jobs you both would do here differ greatly but they are towards one unified goal."

"What is the job sir?" Vedant asked.

"You are here specifically for a purpose that deals with war at mental level. The psychic space in this country has become a warzone and there are various forces in this country that want to enslave people, in fact they have been successful in enslaving and subdueing the majority of population. You told me that you feel like Antichrist, and there is a reason for it. A lot of people are being exploited and tortured at the psychic plane in this country, and you are chosen as one of our psychic warriors because you have the ability for it. There is Dr. Sharanya who oversees psychic operations in the university and she would provide you the training necessary for you to be able to do your work. You have to realise that our minds are in control of entities that want to enslave and exploit us and we have to fight against these forces."

"You mean the minds of people can be controlled?" Vedant asked with dismay.

"I know it's a lot to handle, but this is the truth. Not only our minds but also our bodies are controlled, by the forces that want to enslave the people."

"Pardon me professor but if it is so how can we ever able to fight against these people, that would mean that they wouldn't ever allow us to grow big enough to fight them, they would always know our next step."

Professor looked at Vedant. "That's the whole game Vedant, there is nothing hidden, and it's a powerplay, the university is capable enough to fight against the entities, and that you could ascribe to sheer luck and timing. The common man cannot fight against it, and so he has to suffer the fate these individuals design for them. We actually are not alone, there are various structures and establishment that are fighting the same fight that we are the world over, but we know that we are not in a position of strength, but what we lack in strength we make up for it in efforts."

"Why did you choose me professor?" Vedant asked.

"There are reasons Vedant, and that you would come to know in due time. For now I understand that you need time to process all the information I have given you. Sharanya will meet you in the evening today. Till then take some rest."

"Let me drop you to your flat, Vedant," Dr. Rajesh said to Vedant.

They both got up and bowed to the professor and got out and got into the car.

"Your food would be on the table by the time we reach home, Dr. Rajesh said.

"Sir, I'd preferably cook for myself," said Vedant curtly.

"Very well. I'd provide you with a card that you can use to shop at university departmental store in the evening. I assume your fridge is stacked till then?"

"Yes sir."

They reach the residential complex and Dr. Rajesh dropped Vedant.

Vedant after reaching home, sat on the sofa. It was too much to process, but somehow he didn't have any doubts on what professor had said to him. It was still difficult for him to believe that people's minds and bodies were controlled by a structure. What was that structure? Was it the government? Or were it the corporations? He decided to sleep for a bit. 

It was 4'o clock in the evening. Vedant woke up. Dr. Rajesh would be bringing Dr. Sharanya at 5'o clock. He had not had lunch so he got up and went to the dining table to have his lunch. After his lunch he went to the library and shuffled through the books. At 5'o clock sharp he heard a his doorbell ring. He answers the door to find Dr. Rajesh and a woman in a saree and gold rimmed spectacles standing at the door. He invites them inside and asks then to sit. They sit on the sofa while he pulls a chair and sits facing them. 

"Hello Vedant, I'm Sharanya." Dr. Sharanya said. "I work in the department of psychology as an associate professor but as we might know that for a few people in the university their job profile entails a lot more than academics and research."

Vedant nods in agreement.

"Vedant, professor told me that he has given you a basic idea about what we are dealing with. You are specifically chosen for a job that is mainly at the psychic level. We live in tough times Vedant, and our chief adversary is Mackenzie-Brown Corporation. Their history with us goes long back, as far as 1920s, but that doesn't mean that they are out only adversary, there are a lot of players in the game and there are many whom we don't even know about."

"What do I have to do?"

"Your training would begin from tomorrow. I have come here to prime you about what we have to do. There is one more person who is new just like you to all this, and you will not only aid us in psychic operations, but also act as his handler. I know you are new to all this but then that's what training is for. You have to know that what we do is extremely important and the fate of the country and the world depends on it. We do all our work in Building 9, a place where all our operations, including psychic operations are planned and executed. At present our main focus are the the two new inductions, you and Jyotirmay, Jay as he likes to call himself. You would meet him in due time but before that I want you to be trained and ready. I will come to pick you up tomorrow morning at 9'o clock."

Vedant nods.

"Vedant, a new life begins for you from tomorrow, eat and rest well. Sharanya will come tomorrow and take you to Building 9," said Dr. Rajesh as he and Dr. Sharanya get up to go.

After they left. Vedant starts cooking his dinner, thinking what would be next. He missed the Matth, but life in Varanasi had no purpose. He had came far from that dingy room near Manikarnika ghat. Headaches were less severe and he wasn't feeling like the Antichrist anymore. 

Ashtabhuj Advent: Chapter 2, Scene 1

In a dingy room near Manikarnika Ghat in Varanasi a twenty two year old man sat with his laptop. Matth had wasted so much money on getting him admitted in a private medical college for medical education and he had dropped out after two years. His headaches didn't let him live in peace. He had been with the Matth since childhood. Nobody had told him about his past, but someone had told him that he was son of a sadhvi from the matth who committed suicide after he was born. The Matth had named him Vedant. People from Matth had been cajoling him to return to Matth ever since he had returned to Varanasi but he chose to live on his own, writing for money on the internet. His headaches were getting severe and severe as time passed, and over that he had experiences that didn't let him live in peace. A few years ago when he was new in medical college, he had joined an internet platform to make new friends. He had always wanted to make friends outside the matth and he tried for it. But later, he found that the ones who posed as friends only became his friends to gang up and bully him. It was a bad case of cyberbullying that left him scarred and he left that social media website. Ever since he had left that website, he had been feeling odd. He felt that he was the Antichrist, but he didn't tell this to anyone. His days and nights went with severe headaches and one single thought, that he was the Antichrist. He didn't want to trouble the people of the Matth. Most of his childhood friends had already taken deeksha, those who hadn't taken deeksha had married and became priests in the local temples. The head of the Matth had chosen him to become a doctor and serve the Matth and people, and he just couldn't continue with the studies due to severe disillusionment and persistent headaches.It was a not easy living with constant headaches and the feeling that he was an Antichrist, yet Vedant tried to live daily, doing enough work to make his ends meet. It's today that he received a parcel. There was a mobile phone in the parcel with a note, "We have answers to your questions. If you want to know the answers, come to us." He switched on the phone and instantly received a message. "Come to Kalpa, and we will pick you up from the airport." Vedant decided to go, as no more could he live with the headaches and constant feeling of being the Antichrist. He packed his bag, and picked his phone and there was a message, his ticket to Kalpa was already booked. He took a taxi to Varanasi airport and in two hours he was standing outside Kalpa airport. The phone he had received in the parcel rang. "Hello," he said. "Hello Vedant, get in the sky blue fiat and it will take you to us," The voice on the phone said. Vedant took his bag and walked towards the sky blue fiat. A man got out and gave a courteous nod to him. "Give me your bag sir!" He said. Vedant handed over the bag to him. The driver kept the bag in the boot of the car and opened the rear door of the car. Vedant sat down in the car. The driver got into the car and started driving. The car after a drive of about half an hour reached the gate of the university. The gates opened and then the car turned towards the guest house. Reaching the guest house, the car halted and the driver got out and opened the door for Vedant. "Sir, you have already been allotted a room, I will get you the keys, kindly freshen up and be ready. Someone from the University would be picking you up in an hour. The driver then proceeded to take out Vedant's bag from the boot of the car and lead him into the guest house. The receptionist saw Vedant and smiled. Handing over a key to the driver. Room 205, she said. The driver took the keys and moved towards the lift, asking Vedant to come with him. Vedant got into the lift with the driver and the driver. The lift stopped at 2nd floor and both got off the lift. The driver on the door of Room 205 handed him over his bag and the key and said "it was nice meeting you sir, kindly be ready in one hour". 

Vedant entered the room. It was a nice comfortable room akin to a room of a three star hotel with the same amenities. He went to the bathroom and washed his face and then removed his shoes and lay down on the bed. He drifted to sleep only to wake up to the door bell. He opened the door and a man was standing there. "Hi I'm Dr. Rajesh, I have come to take you to meet someone." "Just a minute sir," said Vedant and proceeded to get into his shoes. He locked the door and then got into the lift with Dr. Rajesh. Outside the guest house Dr. Rajesh had his car parked, it was a silver Honda City. They both got into it and after a few moments they reached in front of a bungalow. "Let's go Vedant." Dr. Rajesh said. Vedant got out of the car and entered the bungalow with Dr. Rajesh. In the living room was sitting Professor Bhattacharya alone.

"Hello Vedant, I'm Professor Bhattacharya." The professor held out his hand to shake Vedant's. Vedant bowed down and shook his hand.

"You might be thinking all of this is very strange, and you are right, in fact, there is one more person in this campus who is feeling exactly the same as you, but times are such that we had to call both of you. Your roles differ though. They are totally different. He needs to find his way still, and he is from what we believe is the chosen one, but I have chosen you, for a job which is as important as him, if not more. You will meet him and others in due time, till then ask your question, any questions and get your answers."

"I feel like I am the Antichrist." Vedant said. "Why?" He asked the professor.

"See Vedant, in today's times we can't really trust what we feel. The times are such. I would suggest that you ignore that feeling, you will become what you choose to be, if you want to become Antichrist you would become him, but you can choose to be Buddha too. We know everything about you, and from what we know, we know that you don't let evil affect you. Know that every single person in this world is capable of unspeakable evils, the ones who do not give in to evil are what the world requires and you are one of them."

"If you know everything about me, then do you know my father? I haven't seen him ever."

"Vedant, I know your father. But know that he is not the kind of person you would like to meet. He is an evil man. Your mother was a pious woman. And he defiled her. In the course of time you would come to know who your father was, at present, just know that you are a spitting image of your mother, in thought, in character, in everything."

"I'm born of rape?"

"Yes, Vedant, this is something you have to come to terms with, and I'm glad that you are here, as what would happen here, would allow you to heal from the wounds of your life, and also help us heal others."

Dr. Rajesh who was sitting listening to the conversation looked at the professor and the professor gave him a nod.

"Vedant," Dr. Rajesh said. "You have been chosen to be in professor's inner circle. There are few in the inner circle and I am one among them, there is a lady named Sharanya and a few people who don't live in the University. Professor believes in you, and you will, in due time, see why. I know you get headaches, but I trust that they would subside in few days". We have allotted you a 2 BHK flat in the residential quarters. We will begin the work tomorrow. Till then you must rest."

Vedant nodded.

"Come, let me take you to your flat," said Dr. Rajesh.

Dr. Rajesh took Vedant to the residential quarters in his car.

"A lot of University staff live here Vedant." Dr. Rajesh said walking with him to the lift of the residential complex. "Your flat is on the 4th floor."

They got on the lift. The doors of the lift opened on the 4th floor. They both walked until Dr. Rajesh stopped at the door which had 407 written on it.

"Here take the keys," said Dr. Rajesh, pulling out keys from his pocket. "It's already evening, take rest and I shall meet you tomorrow afternoon. The fridge is stocked and the kitchen is functional. The supper is on the dining table. Have a good evening and night Vedant."

Vedant opened the door. The flat was minimalistic but gorgeous. The hall which would act as his living room had an electric fireplace, a large sofa and a window that looked at the distant mountains. He could see the fresh snow in the forest nearby. He switched on the electric fireplace and walked to see the rooms. There were two rooms, one was made to be a library, with books of different subjects, he supposed the ones that the professor intended him to read. The second room was his bedroom, where he saw his bag already kept. The bathroom was not very big but there was ample space in it. It had a western commode a washbasin with a mirror and bathtub that doubled as a showering space with a shower fitted above it. At any rate this place was much better than his accommodation in Varanasi.

He got out of the room. And walked to the kitchen which was an extension of the hall and the dining table for four was placed at the convenient intersection at which the hall ended and the kitchen began. There was a fridge in the kitchen which was stacked. He walked to the dining table and saw his dinner served and covered with a plate. Someone had been arranging the room while he was at the professor's place.

He took off his shoes. Slipped in his slippers and went to the bathroom and washed his hands and face thoroughly and dried it with a towel. He was feeling hungry so he came and sat at the dining table. He removed the plate covering the food and found a meal of chapatis, dal, rice, chicken curry and gulab jamun. He ate the food quietly looking at the fireplace.

After the meal he got up and washed the dishes in the kitchen sink. And then he sat on the sofa in the living room and quietly thought for some time. This place seemed genuine, and anyway he had nothing better to do. He got up and went into the bedroom and took out his laptop. He went on the university website. Sure enough he found Dr. Bhaskar Bhattacharya, the professor, as the chancellor of the Aryavarta Gurukul University. 

Ashtabhuj Advent: Chapter 1, Scene 2

Jay heard a knock on the door. He opened the door and saw Dinesh.

"The professor has called for you Jay sir." He said courteously. 

Jay nodded, closed the door behind him and signalled him to move.

Dinesh guided him to a bungalow in the university premises. The doors were already open and they entered and reached the living room of the bungalow. He saw Sharanya and Prithvi sitting on the sofa. On another sofa were a man in his sixties and a man in his forties. Sharanya and Prithvi stood up to welcome Jay.

"Hello Jay." Said Sharanya.

"Meet Professor Bhattacharya." She said courteously pointing to the man in his sixties.

"And this is Dr. Rajesh." She said smiling and looking at the man in his forties.

Jay nodded his head to both of them.

"Sit, Jay." Professor Bhattacharya said. Pointing to the sofa in front of him. Dinesh bowed and left the room. Jay sat down on the sofa and with him Sharanya and Prithvi.

"Jay, I would come straight to the point, as I know you might have a lot of questions, and I believe you want me to answer them," said professor Bhattacharya.

Jay looked at him, his mind guessing what he would say.

"Jay we have been keeping an eye on you. We know about your family history, we know about your struggles and we know that you are feeling ill at ease since quite sometime. Believe me, all of it has reasons and it is for these reasons we have called you here."

"You have to understand Jay", the professor continued, "that your feelings of unease are not without any reason. We have marked seven people from all of the country to assemble a team of people who would be working to prevent a catastrophe in the near future. There are seven more people like you, and three of them have been sitting here with you in this room and I would leave upon them to get you meet the others. I would however say that you are under no force or coercion to join us. There is a reason for which we have been keeping and eye on and you are the last, and I think the most important piece of the puzzle. I'll give you time to think about it. And should you decided to continue with us, Rajesh, Sharanya and Prithvi would give you more information of the work we are doing. For now take rest and think on it.".

"Let us drop you back to the guest house," said Sharanya getting up, and with her Prithvi.

Jay got up and followed them.

"Jay, you have no idea how important for us you are," Prithvi said as the three of them were walking towards the guest house from the profesors bungalow. "But the professor wants you to make your own decision, as he did for all of us. He considers you to be the last piece of the puzzle, and if you join us you would see how deep the rabbit hole goes and the sheer scale and importantance of what we do."

Jay was still processing what had happened. They walked to the guest house and upon reaching Sharanya said "Take rest Jay and think about it, we have told you as much as we can tell you about it at present, you can continue the life you were living, or you can be with us and known why is it that the professor thinks you to be the last piece of the puzzle." Saying this she waved a goodbye to him and both her and a Prithvi walked away.

Jay came to his room. He was still confused. He wanted to know more but to know more he would have to join them and he didn't know what all it entailed. He put water in the kettle to boil. It was cold. There were fresh logs in the fireplace so he decided to light up the fireplace. He didn't have anything to think about, he had things to make sense of, but to make sense of things he had to join them. They were already keeping and eye on him, probably through private investigators. To know why, he would have to accept their offer. His life hadn't had much anyway. He had already given up on studying further and all he was doing was living from one gig to another playing a bass guitar, in a band he was easily replaceable.

It started snowing suddenly. The fireplace had started burning and room was warming up. Jay was sipping the coffee and thinking. It was a strange place to be in. And he would come to know the truth only and only if he agrees to become a part of their group, but not knowing what this group did and dealt with was a problem. He didn't want to say yes to something he wouldn't want to be a part of later, but then he had nothing better to do. He decided to say yes. Just then a message flashed on the phone he had received in the parcel he picked the phone and opened the message.

"Did you decide yet?" - Sharanya

Jay typed his answer. "Yes, I will join you."

"That's great! Prithvi will pick you up from the guest house tomorrow. Take rest till then. And yes, this is your main phone from now on."

"Ok" Jay replied, kept the phone aside and took another sip from the coffee which was still warm. He looked out from the window and saw a blanket of snow on the ground as well as the trees. His life had come to a standstill and it depended on what would be revealed to him tomorrow when Prithvi comes to pick him up. All of it had been surreal and it was hard to wrap his head around it. He decided to let all of it thaw in his mind. It was evening and there was still a lot of time for tomorrow morning. The room had warmed up and he decided to sleep.

Jay woke up with sound of doorbell. He got up and opened the door. It was Prithvi.

"Not ready yet? No problem, I'll be waiting downstairs for when you're ready". Saying this he turned around and took the stairs to the hall.

Jay got into the bathroom to get ready and in twenty minutes he got ready and went down.

Prithvi looked at him and smiled. "Your life is about to change Jay." Mine did and so did of the other six.

Jay did not reply.

They got out of the guest house. Paths had been recently cleared of snow.

"Leave your bike and ride with me," Prithvi said showing him a metallic silver cruiser standing in the guest house parking.

Prithvi hopped on to the bike and Jay sat on the pillion. Prithvi revvd up the bike and they started. After a five minutes ride they reached a manor. Prithvi stopped the bike and they both got off.

"This is our HQ and your new home," said Prithvi.

"Let's get you meet the others," he said.

They both entered the manor and got into a large hall. A fire was burning in the fireplace and it seemed that people were already waiting for him. There were six people in the room. Two of them were Rajesh and Sharanya.

Sharanya got up from the sofa she was sitting on and came forward.

"Good morning Jay. These people already know you, but I you don't know so here goes the introduction."

"This is Naaz, Sukhbir, Carol and last but not the least, Vinayak. These people have been waiting for you since a very long time and today their wait ends."

"Hi Jay, I've been appointed as your onboarding specialist." Naaz said holding out her hand for a handshake.

Jay shook her hand.

"Sukhbir, Carol and Vinayak don't stop talking about you. You have no idea how long we have been waiting for you." Naaz said.

Jay looked

"I have been appointed to show you around and tell you all that you want to know and I'm sure you have a lot of questions. But first let me show you your room." Naaz gestured Jay to come behind her.

Jay followed her to the stairs and then to the first floor. The manor was spacious. He walked behind her until she stopped in front of a room and opened it. It was a large room with wooden flooring, and had a double bed, a couch, coffee table, a study table, a bookshelf and a pantry on the side which had utensils and a microwave and a coffee machine. The glass window gave a breathtaking view of snow covered forest and mountains. There was an electric fireplace and a cupboard, and table with drawers in it.

"I hope you like the room Jay. Dinesh prepared it for you. The manor has twenty rooms, and a very huge library. Other than us which now includes you, only Dinesh lives here. He is the one who feeds us and does all the cleaning. It's not an easy job."

Naaz said.

Jay found the room comfortable, but still no one had answered what he was supposed to do. Why had they got him here. It felt like things were happening to him and he was just letting them happen to him.

"I guess you have to collect you belongings from the guest house. Dinesh would help you with that and don't worry I would tell you all about why we are here and what is your role in all this. But first I suppose we should have breakfast, so let's go to the dining room."

He followed Naaz to the dining room where everyone else was waiting for them. Dinesh was bringing the breakfast to the table. Naaz pulled a chair for him at the table and asked him to sit and then sat down beside him.

"Let's eat" Dr. Rajesh said and they all started eating. Breakfast consisted of butter and toast, cornflakes, assorted fruits, poha, aaloo parathas orange juice and tea and coffee.

"Jay we know that you have a lot of questions. Don't worry you would get answers for them soon. I hope you are liking the breakfast Dinesh made for us." Dr. Rajesh said helping himself with some coffee.

Jay ate quietly, with a barrage of questions in his mind. It was a bit strange but he decided to wait instead of demanding the truth upfront.

As soon as breakfast got over Dinesh took Jay to his guesthouse room to take his belongings. Jay got back to his room in the manor with his belongings. He got his laptop out and searched for the page of his band. They were playing at a hotel today and had hired a bassist to replace Jay. Jay then searched the name of the university on the internet. Aryavarta Gurukul University, and he realised that the university was established in 1947, the year India got its independence by a group of people which included a man named Sudeep Bhattacharya who seemed related to Professor Bhattacharya he had met already. After checking the laptop Jay decided to make himself a coffee. It was getting cold so he turned on the electric fireplace. He made himself a coffee and sat by the window looking at the distant snow covered peaks and vast bountiful jungle. He had been silent throughout. He didn't trust these people but he had questions and they had answers for them so he had decided to play along. It had been quite sometime since Ma and Papa's death and things were getting strange day by day. He needed answers for his questions and if these individuals had the answers for those questions then he needed to do what they said. They did not look very suspicious and there was an aura of good kind with all of them, it's just their style of not telling the truth upfront that bothered him. He drank his coffee and decided to rest for bit.

Ashtabhuj Advent: Chapter 1, Scene 1

Jay thrashed his fingers across the strings of his bass guitar, the basis notes reverberating through the dimly lit club. The crowd pulsated with energy, their bodies moving in sync with the relentless rhythm of the music. As a member of the hard rock band "Mrityu," Jay was no stranger to the stage, but tonight, something felt different.

Unbeknownst to him, two figures sat in the shadowy corner of the club, their eyes fixed on Jay. Sharanya, with her piercing gaze and Prithvi, with his stoic demeanor, watched intently as Jay unleashed his raw talent upon the unsuspecting audience.

"He's the one," Sharanya whispered, her voice barely audible over the cacophony of sound.

Prithvi nodded in agreement, his gaze unwavering. "Yes, he possesses the potential we seek. We must approach him before it's too late."

Meanwhile, Jay's fingers danced across the fretboard with practiced precision, each note carrying a piece of his soul. Little did he know that his fate was about to take an unexpected turn.

After their performance, Jay returned to his apartment. As he sifted through the pile of mail on the kitchen table, his eyes fell upon a mysterious package addressed to him. Intrigued, he tore open the package to find a mobile phone and an address written on a piece of paper.

Jay read that paper carefully. He looked at the address. It was of a University in Kalpa village in Himachal Pradesh. He switched on the mobile phone and as soon as the mobile phone booted he saw he recieved a text on it. It read, "You have been seeking truth all your life Jay, do you want to know the truth? If you do, meet us at the address you have recieved. Keep the phone handy."

Jay didn't know what to do, but the opportunity of knowing the truth aas a hard one to pass. He put the contents of package back in the package and kept it in his cupboard. He then went to the coffee machine to make himself a coffee. His room was littered with esoteric books. He had developed interest in the esoteric even since he had a particular out of body experience last year and he wanted to know the causes of it. He had just finished his Bachelor's in Zoology. He wanted to be a primatologist but since the experience he had, he had given up on the idea to study further. His band played in cafes and bars of Indraprastha City and he was living in the moment at the present. His band consisted of Bhavesh who was a DJ and Keyboardist, Vasu who was the guitarist, Aman who was the Drummer, and Ali who was the vocalist and him who was the bassist. The band earned enough to support a meagre living through all his band members except him had day jobs to support themselves.

Jay started packing, the band would've to hire and external bassist, but he knew in his heart that this thing, whatever it was, was more important than the band. It was Saturday today and Kalpa was 250 kilometre away from Indraprastha City. It was Friday today and if he starts early morning tomorrow he would be able to reach Kalpa by afternoon.

He went to the coffee machine and made himself another cup of coffee. He had kept his clothes in his rucksack and was making a note of things he would need on the trip. There wasn't much. Clothes, phone, especially the phone he had received today and his wallet. He was packed and ready to go. He opened his cupboard and took out the package. He kept the piece of paper which has the address in his wallet and kept the phone he had received in the package on the table. He then took out his own phone and messaged his bandmates and a few other people that he had to go out of town for a very important work.

 He lay down on the bed and wondered what the message was all about. He had already lost all hopes in humanity and it doesn't seem real that someone who had no incentive from him would try to contact him. Maybe they he was profitable to them in some manner, maybe there was some incentive to them in contacting him. Thinking all these things he drifted into sleep.

He woke up at six in the morning freshened up, took a bath and then took his rucksack and helmet and got out of the apartment. He locked his apartment, and took the stairs to the parking where his bike was parked. His bike was a cafe racer that he valued a lot. He started the engine and took off on his journey.

He rode non stop for four and half hours though the speed was not much it did not take him much time and he enjoyed the ride and seeing the terrain changing from plains to mountainous. He had reached Kalpa. Kalpa was full of forests and he realised that the university he had the address to lied deep inside mountainous jungles. He stopped at a roadside stall to have a tea. Where he talked to the locals about the university. The university students and staff came to Kalpa bazaar to do their shopping and the university contributed a lot to the economy of Kalpa village.

After tea, he got on the bike again and started for the university. It was a road through the forest. And after a ride of 15 minutes on mountain roads surrounded by forest he was able to reach the gates of the university. There were two guards at the gate. The guards looked at him and opened the gate. He entered the gate and saw a signboard with Administrative Block written on it, he turned his board towards the direction the board was pointing. He reached the Administrative Block, parked his bike in the parking and got off it and got into the building. He went to the reception and took out the piece of paper and showed it to the receptionist. She pointed him towards  a room and asked him to make himself comfortable. Jay went inside the room. There was a couch and glass table and on the table there were a few magazines. On one side there was a fireplace and above the fireplace were kept two vases. He sat on the couch and picked a travel magazine and started sifting through it. Almost five minutes later a man and a woman entered the room. The man wore a leather jacket and a blue jeans. He had short hair and a trimmed beard. The woman had worn a kanjivaram saree and wore golden framed glasses.

"Hello Jay", the woman said.

"You play the guitar very well. I know you must be having a lot of questions but rest assured that all of your questions will be answered. We saw you in the club yesterday and you might have noticed us in the crowd. This is Prithvi" she looked at the man, "and I am Sharanya".

Jay hadn't had the chance of standing up yet. He got up and nodded to both of them.

"The Professor would like to see you in some time" Prithvi said.

"Here are the keys to your room in the guest house. I hope you will find it comfortable and according to your needs. You freshen up and we'll meet you when the professor is ready to meet you. Dinesh would guide you to the guest house." Prithvi held out a bunch of keys attached to a keyring which had Room Number 108 inscribed on it.

All three of them came out of the room and stood in the hall of Administrative Block. A Nepali man, stood there.

"Hello, Jay sir, I'm Dinesh."

"Kindly follow me."Dinesh said courteously.

Jay got out of the building with Dinesh. And Dinesh hopped on a bicycle which seemed to be the chief mode of transport within the university, parked near the bike of Jay. Jay got on the bike and followed Dinesh to the guesthouse. He entered the guesthouse with Dinesh and they climbed to the first floor where Jay's room was.

"Please make yourself comfortable. I'll come to get you when professor asks for you." Saying this, Dinesh gave a bow and left the room.

Jay glanced accross the room. There was a large glass window and a fireplace. There was a single bed with a table beside it which had a table lamp and a telephone. There was a study table and a chair with a few magazines and an electric kettle along with two mugs, a glass tumbler and a glass jug filled with water kept on the table. Dinesh had carried his luggage to the room. He sat on the bed and wondered what it was about. He then got up and pulled the curtains from the windows getting a breathtaking view of forest covered mountains. He didn't know what he had gotten himself to. When he was riding from IP City to Kalpa all he could think was what awaited him. He had recently finished his college, and had decided to not to study further. He had no goals at present and he lived from one gig to another with his band. Mom and dad before passing away had left him a lot of money but he seldom touched that money, and lived mostly on what he made by playing in the band. He has ancestral property in Rajasthan which was looked after by Chhote Baba and his office, his father's uncle. His father was landlord and a counsel to the erstwhile king of Rajpur. He had extended family in Rajasthan but after the accident in which his mother and father passed away he had only been there twice.

He had been reading a lot on occult and esoteric literture after what he felt after his parents death. He felt some strange things which he realised that wasn't only grief. He felt he could see himself in third person as if he could see himself from outside his body and he felt a burning sensation all over his body and in his eyes, palms and soles. He had searched his symptoms on the internet and came across a term called depersonalization, but the literature he found on the internet noted that it was caused due to extreme anxiety and he did not have anxiety but grief. He was sad on his parents death but that was loss and not anxiety. He never had to worry about finances as Nahar Baba and his office took care of everything related to his father's and his finances. Chhote baba had appointed Nahar Singh who was ten years elder to him and son of a faithful servant to family to manage finances and estates of Jay and Nahar was dutiful about his job. Jay's parents passed away when he was in his second year of college and it had been one and half years since. He had never been the same after his parents death. Grief and adding to that a strange sensation that made him feel that he was watching himself from outside his body didn't let him live in peace. He had read majority of occult and esoteric literture of the world by now and he had not got his answer for the strange restlessness he suffered with yet. And now when he recieved the package and was called to Kalpa, he couldn't say know to the opportunity that could answer his questions.

He didn't know who Professor was, but he seemed important the way everyone whom he had met in this university took his name with respect.  He got up to make himself a cup of coffee and put water to boil in the electric kettle and emptied two coffee sachets, a sachet of creamer and a sachet of sugar in a cup. He prepared the coffee, took the steaming cup and sat on his bed thinking.