No New Year Post...

No new year post? Nah... I didn't want to do that.

I started the year with a mini vacation. Finished writing my book. Done with over 225k words, meaning my book will be roughly 666 pages.

Ah well, starting work on editing today onwards. For now it's inhouse, but making plans for professional help. Already in talks with legal consultants.

Didn't think I had in me, did you?

Nearing the End of another Year

The year is coming to an end. This has been a hell of a rollercoaster ride from hell to heaven with a ticket cut to Genabackis right after finishing off Westeros. Yes, geeky.

I've had my ups and downs. I've had my share of drama. My time in the light, my epiphanies in the dark. I started this blog for absolutely no reason other than the fact that I love to write. And well, Here I stand (sit actually) barely 10,000 words from finishing my very first novel. Yes, that is what I have been up to all year. But it wasn't an easy ride. Actually it was. The supplements of my real life however weren't.

Understand this, I keep saying look to the dark, tread in the dark, etc., etc. because I don't think the darkness is wrong. Hell, it is only one side of the coin. Nothing is bad. Well, Godhra was bad. But never mind.

I've come to a point where I can really see how far I have come. Not just with my novel, but with my life. In less than a year, I wrote over 214914 words. And well, I have lived much and more than that. And with every incident that has passed, I can see how it has all affected me. I've made terrible mistakes, realised terrible wrongs and tried to right all I could.

Just look back to your year and see how much you've done. How much have you suffered? How much have you lived? Every instance that will flash in your mind will show you how great your life has been. Or not. Depends on your perception.

I've done not so socially acceptable things this year (nothing illegal), and well I'm happy. That is what matters. (Fuck, I'm cheesy. I see know how much I might have changed as well.)

Anyways, hope you guys had a great year.

May the Darkness guide you to Your Light!

We need more Diverse Books

Well, I'm not the kind of person really motivates you to go do something great, except maybe call the Cthulhu (not sure if that is the best of ideas). But I did read something that I found really interesting. Trust me, it deals with the many discriminations that we do subconsciously just because our parents didn't let us walk around naked when we were kids. Too random but it is the fundamentals that matter the most.

Chuck Wendig, well known Penmonkey (whose blog I almost regularly follow) wrote this extremely long but worth the time spent read. I don't know how ethical it is to share another man's work on my blog, but then again we have Bollywood. So shamelessly, I share here with you something that I believe you must read.

Chuck Wendig's recent blog post: "I am a Racist and I am a Sexist and probably some other -ists too"

If you are lazy (like most of us are), then here is what he shared at the end of his post: "The We Need Diverse Books Indigogo Campaign"

I won't tell you to do anything. I'm sure your sick of your parents, teachers, politicians, and PS4s telling you what to do.

May the Darkness guide you to Your Light!

The Point of Life

Whether it be a fly thee kill, or be it a monster slain by thy righteous hand,

Death in all it's glory is still a sorrowful thing.

The perception is all that matters.

Who knows, the monster might be the avatar of the very gods thee worship.

God plays a game in the queerest of ways, ways we may never understand,

As for that sword you lift, it may be the bane of those you love the most.

Life is a strange phenomenon.

It is the soul that matters.

The ones that tread in light sweat as the sun tires them,

And the moon sends chills down the nighttime traveller,

Filling the mind with horrors with questionable existence.

Yet, we all tread on.

Maybe that is the point of life, to find a point in this spherical object,

Cyclic in nature and spirit, with nothing to lose or gain,

Except that we believe we are attached to.

Cheesy Words, or Motivation? You decide....

One thing I learned in the last few days is that I fucking love writing. I'd die before I give up. I've risked my future to pursue my writing, and I hope that it would work out well.

Sometimes, treading in darkness can show you things in a much different perspective. I'm experiencing that at a very personal level. I see everyone going with the crowd while they laugh, mock and look down upon me for my decisions. People will never understand.

I'd die before I prove them right. And I know I'm not the only one here. There are many whose dreams are shattered by the critics. I say fuck them all.

Of course, it's easier said than done. Many people quit, but how many are actually working towards it? Before you take any rash decision, understand that once taken a step forward, it'll be a million times harder just to undo that. Tread wisely.

May the Darkness guide you to Your Light

Strange Ending

The wind gushed and the clouds roared. The weatherman said a storm was rising. If he did not reach home on time, he might never. His work had ended earlier; his boss was more paranoid than anyone else. However, his boss had a driver and a car waiting to serve his needs. His colleagues ran just like him, but their buses were frequent. His bus had a terrible frequency.

People were closing shop, others were hurrying home. The homeless tried to look for a tentative shelter. The animals were nowhere to be seen. Smart bitches, he thought. He looked around at the systematic chaos that presented itself. Religion had forgotten its enmity and rivals helped secure each other. Everyone seemed to be prepared, except him.

The road was emptier than before. Isolation seemed to be creeping in. He had to leave.

He decided that he would spend some extra bucks and travel by rickshaws. But as every Indian knows, these bastards never listen.

One rickshaw rushed away. He grew frantic. The skies began to wet the earth.

Another ignored his cries. He abused passionately.

A third said an unjustified no. He kicked the rickshaw as it sped away.

The fourth one's breaks failed.

The isolated road gathered pedestrians to help him, but he realised that the storm wouldn't be his bane. The people carried him to a shelter, an ambulance was called for. The driver of the rickshaw was beaten for his faults. The clouds roared and the rain had finally begun its heavy downpour.

He was convinced that his end would come. Either by the storm, or the accident.

Death had a strange way to find things. A mosquito landed on his wound.

Revelatory Dream

I fell asleep in the stars one night,

When I couldn’t seem to fight,

The urges of the previous day,

To kill them all, If I may!

The crows caw, the mice all squeal,

Desecrate our life’s show reel!

And murder every dream they say,

For good days are always yesterday!

Our perceptions are all but pale,

Hazed out by that branded ale,

Made by TV sets in every room,

Media bastions, mediocrity bloom!

And as I type from memories,

On this machine made overseas,

I realise we’re all but dead,

In a time that has come not yet.

Karma

"What is it honey?" he asked. He thought he'd heard his wife call out to him.

When no reply came, he thought it was nothing. Then it all crashed down on him. His house, his life, all engulfed by the flames inside his mind. Another migraine.

He fell down on the carpet and writhed in pain. The TV show host laughed at one of the gags and the recorded audiences giggled as well. 

Clutching his hair, almost ripping it off he rolled trying to understand why the pain felt different. That is when the crimson dripped down his cheek. He noticed the pool of red forming below his head. There had to be something wrong. How was this possible.

He looked up, and a silhouette stared back at him.

As she bent down, he saw the bruised face of his wife, eyes bloodshot. In her hands, she gripped a spade from their garden.

"HOW DARE YOU?" he screamed. If the neighbours ever found out, his name would be cast down. Their family would be in shame.

In reply, she kept staring at him. He had never seen her enraged. Every time she did something wrong, she would clam up and accept his beatings. That was the way society had raised them. Their parents did it, and their grandparents. But was it true? Or was it a delusion that only he lived in?

"I'm done!" she whispered, barely enough for him to understand.

A divorce was shunned upon in their society. His migraine worsened. And the moment he realised that the migraine was actually the hurt from the wound he had tried to ignore, the spade came crashing down on him.

One hit, his vision was hazy. Second and the pain worsened. Third, and his life flashed before him, numbing his senses. A Fourth and unable to bear the excruciating pain, he fell unconscious.

As life left his body, from the passage between life and death, he heard the faint laughter of victory.

His societal prisoner was finally free.

A little help...maybe?

Okay, usually I don't do two posts one after the other, but right now something just crossed my mind. To be honest, it's a sort of confusion regarding my own social life, and by that I mean social media. The way I see it, almost every person I know (except the really old people) are all in this mess. Even my own parents are addicted to Whatsapp and got knows what! And here I am detesting almost each social media site.

But then again, I do blog, and that can be considered a form of social media. However, why don't I do this same thing on Facebook? I can certainly get more attention from there. Or even Twitter, but there I have limited characters.

I try to stay away from social media and yet, I realise that without it I might not be able to stay in touch with anyone. That is my confusion. Should I allow this social media craze to take over me?

I don't know who is reading this, but I hope you can understand my dilemma.

This is probably the first post where I speak like a human, and not some psychotic wannabe philosopher.

I usually end my posts one way, but this time...

May the Darkness guide me...

Strangulation

Strangulation. The tepid ropes of the vile education system curled themselves against the Adam’s apple of his throat as he lay writhing in pain from the fever that had engulfed his numb body. He was lying there, sweating profusely, crying silently over the spiritual disaster that was his life. For a long time the potholes of the princely societal acceptance had haunted his smooth ride in life, making every possible bump as painful as can be. Hell cannot even hope to be so sadistic. And his state at the moment was hell. Hell to the truest form.

The ceiling fan moved silently, like a ninja slicing the air around with its assassin’s blade. The air grew old and aged as time passed in the night. Beads of sweat swarmed his face, his body, his hairy legs. The bed seemed too small to hold in his big dilemma. The sheets too tiny to keep him warm to the fullest. He had covered his face, breathing the carbon that he had exhaled only a few moments back. The darkness of the night had only but profoundly bled out dry, only to leave behind dark bruises in the atmosphere that was his room. The same room he lived, no, the same room he existed. Living is a term debatable for this sort of life. An education that has no meaning, pursuing a piece of paper that holds your dignity and walk shamefully if it cannot be achieved. This is the narrow-minded lifestyle that they all lived. His peers. His perpetrators. His parents.

He fell asleep talking to his girlfriend, knowing that he was tired. But the fever that dawned upon him knew not its limits. It wasn’t just a physical ailment; it was much more. The scars and bruises were not left on the outer shell of the human body that was his self, but deeper inside. The scars lay on his mind. The bruises painted his soul. The stink and rot of a lustful craving for self destruction had been clinging onto his back forcefully kept there for a better status in society.

But what would these social bastards know of the pains and penance a little man like him would pay for that unchecked and adulterated dignity? What would his friends know of the agony of anointing ink in the wasteful use of thoughtless words? What would the very non-existent God do if challenged about the pains? There were no answers to these rhetoric doubts that flooded him as he lay, writhing in pain.

Was it the food that sickened him? The tiring day in a disgusting place full of filthy, despicable and tasteless fools who lived only because they had a life, exhausted his living strength? What was it that troubled his soul to the extent that the physical attributes attached had to suffer like Icarus who tried only to fly. It was this. The troubles and times of past that haunted him. Mistakes that had trodden him down before, that were in effect again, at a different pace, at a different magnitude, but mistakes nonetheless.  

The Dog

Ever wonder what dogs think of when they stare at the sun?

Their lost families, their old days of fun?

The time they young and in size they were small,

Protected and loved, a litter after all!

And then one by one, each lost its way,

One adopted for love, another given away,

Some find homes, others remain astray

Like that dog who stares

At the ending of another day

But is the day at end?

Or is it her life?

The sun fades away

The day turns to night...

He had Won

He walked alone, on a desolate street, thoughts of joy churning through his mind. The sky was gloomy but his mind afresh. Filled with emotions of jolly, his feet carried him towards his destination. Stars revolved around his head, as angels and demons danced to salute him. His was a victory of pride and honor. He had earned it. He had been in utter disgrace and now, he had won.

He was a lad from a happy family. No worries or troubles even meddled with his peace. But then came that little idiot of a boy. What was his name? Aah well, it’s not necessary anymore. That Idiot, as he would always refer to him, made his college life miserable. It was his first day in college when this Idiot met him. Idiot was a senior and so, he respected him. But little did he know, that this Idiot, meant to rag him.

Well, that was in the past. That Idiot was dead now. And he killed him.

Yes, this boy who we are reading about, walking towards his destination, well, yes. He killed him.

His destination?

Insanity. Yes, it was insanity. You didn’t believe that this story was going somewhere good did you? Oh well, too bad. He grinned as he walked towards insanity.

A tiny door opened in a house at the end of the street and a wrinkled gray hand gestured him inside. He walked in. Inside was an abyss with nothingness surrounding him, with a silent deathly aura and an aroma of filth and reeking flesh. He kept smiling. He had won.

A million spider webs shot at him, entangling his limbs and body into yielding. He knelt down as huge hairy apes slapped him red and raw. He kept smiling. He had won.

Why they asked. No reply. He kept smiling. He had won.

Was it so bad? The Idiot had driven him to insanity. Yes, it was the Idiot who had tortured his whole living mental state, so much that he resorted to a mind of blood rather than beauty. Can ragging actually take you to such extreme limits?

I don’t know. Ask him! Ask him all you want. All he will do is smile. But of course, what can we say?

He had won. 

The Known Unknown

Who are you?

The one who talks,

And spreads his words,

Like the oceans red

Who are you,

Who speaks so low?

Yet wants to be heard,

Like the worshipped dead.

Who is it,

That paints the sky,

And burns the moon,

Like the stars’ own sheet?

Who is it,

That kills the silence,

Dreading the shadows,

Of oceans’ deep?

Why must we,

Be torn away,

By lands and laws,

Of men so low?

Why must we,

Embrace what is,

Unbearably wrong,

Like a rigid foe?

Lowly minds,

Lowly hearts,

Are these the ones,

Who kill our souls?

Why must we,

Bow down so low,

To conservativeness,

Of meaningless goals?

Why must we?

Oh! why must we,

Tread in light,

When darkness prevails?

Why is it?

What is it?

That runs your life?
When your mind fails?

The Lone Man In The Dark

Complete Darkness, darkness stood everywhere. The chill in the forest that night was too deathly. The stench of the wet soil rose and added to the horror of the night. Critters of the dark, rodents and flying pests lay still making their own hymns as a man ran through the wet dark road.
‘Damn. Damn.’ He muttered under his breath as he ran with all his might. His eyes had grown accustomed to the dark a while ago but it didn’t help much. The night was too sly and the man could only make out dark figures in his way. The aroma of wet tree bark, leaves with tiny insects on them, buzzing and chirping every once a while filled in to the scary aura of the forest this man was in.
After a while, he stood under a tree to catch his breath. He looked back the way he came from. Nothing there. He was sweating, his clothes were glued to his body and his face was red with exhaustion. His clothes were all soiled, his face bruised, but the darkness in the night refused to give away any color to his pain.
Suddenly he heard a noise behind him, from where he came from.
‘NO!!’ he mouthed the words and began to run again. As he ran he looked at his watch. He looked at the glowing numbers. ‘Damn, only 20 minutes’ he said, ‘Not far enough. They are going to get me.’
His body ached, his lungs burned with tiredness. He couldn’t make it. He needed more time. He kept running but then, he tripped over a wild root extending on the forest road. Flat on his face, he fell in muck. Face covered in the cold damp mud he lifted himself up and wiped his face. It didn’t help much but he did notice something.
To his right, behind a tree there was an opening, a cave.
He looked behind and decided to go inside. Just as he stepped into the cave, lightning struck and it began to pour again, the clouds weeping, as if they too were terrified of that night.
He kept walking, feeling his way around the cave until he reached a big flat rock. He sat on it and took his wet shirt off. He used it to wipe the mud off his face and hands. He looked around. The view wasn’t very clear but he could see multiple passages in the cave. This was one labyrinth and he decided to wait and relax.
Suddenly a chill passed down his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck rose straight. He felt pain in his stomach, pain pulsing through his body. He eyed his watch
“NO!!!” he screamed, “NOT NOW!!!”
He fell to all fours and he couldn’t bear the excruciating pain, “NOT NOW!!!PLEASE!!!”
The pain was unbearable and then he was shocked.
Literally shocked. The man was shocked and he fell unconscious. He was tied to an electric chair. The
background had changed to that of an old hospital ward. Two ward boys came and checked the man. A doctor stood behind them, writing something on his pad.
“Listen,” said the Doctor, “I want this man tied up. He will be released only if his therapy helps him make progress.”
The ward boys listened began to unfasten his binds.
“This man is a very dangerous patient.” She said, “He is a schizophrenic and his case is very serious. He believes that he is an undercover agent working for the Government Intelligence. Lock him up and make sure he doesn’t break out of his cell. I don’t want another nurse dead.”
The ward boys put the man on a stretcher and took him away. The doctor wiped her forehead and began to walk out of the room. As she left, a nurse switched off the light in the room.

Complete Darkness.

Random Rant

I'm beginning to feel this blog is going dry. I feel like I'm running out of things to say, things to type. Is this what writer's block feels like? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I have some other things that are taking up much of my writing time. And I don't know if I can or will be blogging that often. How much can a blog actually be worth? I mean, how many people out there are even reading any of the posts I'm writing? I won't stop blogging, its something that keeps me going.

As for my writing, I am working on some things. Some of those things just mean more to me than others. And hopefully, I will be able to present those things to you soon. Soon, meaning by next year.

Yes, this is very much like a stupid Facebook update most people do. So here is something that you might find interesting. It's about writing. I found it extremely interesting and inspiring. 

May the Darkness guide you to Your Light!