You sit on the bed in a rainy weather and read Sherlock Holmes while eating biscuits. You visit a website of short stories and read beautiful short stories. You read Kafka's short stories and become fascinated. Life was so simple once, and it could have remained so, if only...! I won't have opinion about truth, I won't say wanting to know the truth is like playing with fire. Because it isn't. Truth walks with you. All the time, everytime. Personally I do not like to be delusional but I think it is an individual decision, wanting to know the truth or not, and anyway it's the truth of the world, not the Earth. It's the truth of the society, not the nature. Though what is truth of the world is also truth of the Earth, and what is truth of the society is truth of the nature, in a small way, but it is. How did life become so unlivable that a man (then a boy) cannot even read Sherlock Holmes while eating biscuits on a rainy day? The fate of Conan Doyle was interesting. And Conan Doyle gave us Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock's genius was his genius. And after dabbling in detective fiction he finally ended up in occult. I was a firm believer of the idea that intelligent men have tragic ends. An idea which is not at all correct. The actually correct idea is that moral men have tragic ends. Intelligence is a dozen a dime. Sometimes the tragic end of these moral men is so tragic that the world sees them as immoral, and they become examples of immorality for eternity. What does a man want in present days? Most would want a mancave, a mate, and gadgets other than the basic needs of food, water, clothing and shelter. My needs were as simple as this. Just like any common good modern day man. Sometimes one shoots for greatness. Did I want to become great? Yes, I was working for greatness, for this is all we are taught in schools, to aim for greatness as we read the biographies of the greats. For me political greatness was to aim for welfare of each and every citizen, and work for them to have a happy and content life. I wanted to become great as a writer or artist but I didn't know that greatness as a writer doesn't exist. Writers are foolish losers who ghostwrite for individuals who actually make writers great. All great writers are actually sacrificial lambs that have been made great to set an example of them, so that if anyone follows them, he or she comes to know what actual greatness is. Actual greatness is a mirage. The truth is dominance and not coexistence. The truth has always been dominance shrouded within coexistence. And if someone thinks they can sublimate their suffering into greatness, they must be ready for them to be made an example of for eternity. Greatness doesn't exist, but what exists are short stories and detective fiction with chocolate biscuits on a rainy day. Anyone who tells you that you control your destiny is wrong. You don't control your destiny. You control your decisions, and that too in a very feeble way. The shame that arises from wanting to be great is tremendous, especially in a world where greatness doesn't exist, only dominance does. But this shame is soothed by good books and chocolate biscuits on a rainy day, only and only if you manage to have the basics, that is food, water, clothing and shelter. You slowly realise even the basics aren't as basic as you had thought and you see yourself slowly turning into a hamster on a wheel.
An archive of my writings and a place for my writing experiments and projects.
Friday, 28 June 2024
The Slice of Freedom
Is adaptation necessary? Life can become complex. You see outcasts and you see the trailblazers. Who decides who is an outcast or who is a trailblazer? There are people who decide that. I believe in following rules and it actually is something that has brought me the most suffering, though it is a very individual thing and there is no one size that fits all. People listen and play rock music in this country, but if the same is done by a boy in small town, it won't be digestible to a lot of people. Happiness evades some people, and to them my advice would be to be happy with that situation. I love books, I have always loved them but after a point of time I realised that books are the expressions of delusions of others, either delusions or imaginations. I'm not talking about academic books here. I'm just talking about books. After a point of time in one's life, survival becomes more prominent than love and at this point in my life my love for books and stories started to fade away, not that I've ever been fan of survival. The actual reason my love for books started fading away was the realisations that books are a lie, and there are other very hard and practical reason too. Though I keep forgetting that books are escape and comfort too. One can escape into fantasy, travel the world and other worlds through books, and I have to keep myself reminding this to keep my passion for books alive. Following rules can be tricky, especially when they are conjured from the thin air for the purpose of oppressing. Not letting people read books is an old trick in the business of oppression and it is weaved into having guilt of damaging nationalistic pride by learning from other culture and if the other culture is superior then there comes the idea of being deserving to read those books and gain that knowledge. It is a political method of keeping people away from knowledge and happiness and one would have thought that these things don't happen in the present world. They happen, and a level so deep that there isn't any level deeper than that. Though the very level it happens on invalidates it, given that existence of that level is realised. What seperates a great civilization from a third world country? The fact that people in a great civilization do not shroud their base desires in morality and righteousness. The basic thing about hiding base desires behind morality is that it is, for the most part, done by scoundrels, who think they are the keepers of moral order of the society while at the same time excusing themselves of all morality and righteous thought and behaviour. When oppression becomes such that you fear learning from other cultures, or deriving pleasure from fictional works of authors from other culture while at the same time feeling that you don't deserve to read literature from other cultures (especially if that culture is perceived by some as superior to your culture) you must realise that you live in a third world. Adaptation is not necessary, it's just what gentlemen and weak do. And it's upto you to find out which of the two you are.
Nth Time
Things get weirder with time. I have a name for this blog but that would bring a lot of unsavoury memories. Who writes a blog in 2023, many would say. I do. And I plan to tackle a lot of subjects that I love in this blog, but mostly books, travelling and cultures. I'm not a foodie so food won't be here much but you never know. I said things get weirder with time, and they have for me, for I have seen such things in the past decade that would count as magic, but then magic can be called as unknown science or technology, isn't it. I read William James and felt enlightened as never before. I would like to think that there is a God, I would love it if there is a God, but in my lifetime I haven't seen his or her existence. I believe though, not in a societal God but in a very personal God, and She is female. Politically I'm an atheist, more of an agnostic actually. I like to think that people like to read in these times of video narcissism. People who read and people who read good books are my kind of people, but then there aren't good books anymore. People write, and hit a roadblock and start writing Animal Farm and Farenheit 451. Peace, I know, can never be achieved, because a select few have achieved it, and their peace depends on others not having any peace. So, in a way world peace has been both achieved and not achieved. Reading gets tiring for me now, but I know that I would always love books. Though good books can't be written anymore. A warm cozy corner doesn't exist, and those who knows this fact, actually achieve that corner. Because knowing that warm cozy corners don't exist is a achieving them. Those who do not know that warm cozy corners do not exist and actually achieve them are in an enviable position and their ignorance is what makes the world actually beautiful. I like to know cultures because there is beauty in cultures and many cultures are fast disappearing as they actually were and taking a whole different shape. But I suppose that's development. This blog presents the warm cozy corner of my life which I know that it both exists and not exists at the same time. It presents my interests which are mostly books and sometimes other things too. The totality of my experiences is riddled with suffering and this blog represents things that are not suffering and my experiences that have been forged by suffering. There is a lot of beauty in the world, and sometimes we are trapped in a position that doesn't let us see that beauty. It happens sometimes. But then we can always try to build that warm cozy corner that shields us from all the unbearable truths of this world, which are many and actually dominating. Comfortable truths have found their cozy corners and remain in it because they won't survive the reality. I don't claim that the content of this blog are true. They are what they are. Mostly my attempts at escaping some realities and also documenting some. Hopefully, I find my warm cozy corner here.
Tuesday, 11 June 2024
Description Writing #1
Saturday, 16 March 2024
कत्लेआम
Thursday, 29 February 2024
आदर
Monday, 12 February 2024
कचहरी
Haystack
You lock in. Chekhov’s spirit flows in your nerves, it’s stream of consciousness. You roleplay Samurai Jack, trapped in the future with shap...
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Jay thrashed his fingers across the strings of his bass guitar, the basis notes reverberating through the dimly lit club. The cr...
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Is life beautiful? Well it depends. Is the world beautiful? Again, it depends. The earth though is beautiful and there is no doubt about tha...
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He saw his result and closed his eyes. He felt like his head is swirling around in circles. He had never expected that from himself but now ...