About Me

July 12, 2012

On Madness

A man lived in a house of stones by the dried banks of an ancient river. He lived in that house, with ants who were judgmental. They kept prejudice and warned the man, of his plans. They were pragmatic, so they said. They spoke to him of truth regardless of how discouraging it would be. And the man would often have very little for his defense. For he was waiting for the river to come. "Everything would be better when the river shall come down this valley", he would propose. "I'm here,as much as you are. Biding my time. With only hope in mind. And a lonesome heart. For what else is my redemption? I wait obediently for something that might never come. Unlike my nature,I've been here".

He had built this house on his own. Each layer of stone, he had cemented by pain and all the wrong that he had done in his past. He was not a bricklayer before, mind you. His expertise lied in something rather strange. He was a weaver of sorts. Of an unpleasant kind. For he wove lies. With his tongue and his eyes. And oh the shrewd kings of august world swear by his methods! Every fabric he designed with intimate detail and each one a masterpiece of its kind. Each one, très magnifique, than the predecessor. 

But his charm was bound to wear off. And one twitch of an eye at the wrong place at the wrong time brought the impending downfall of the poor man. But he couldn't stop. He didn't know how to. The lies had become him and he was more of the lies than himself. It was sometime then, amidst an uproar of disagreement in the social stands, that he was banished from the land of men.

However there were few who didn't find his presence, a threat to their lives. 'He was living his act, that fine man', told someone who knew him too close to this narrator. 'He didn't built the act himself. But, it was his to live. The man bore a stigma so let him be.' But the support for such liberal thoughts, as always are few.

However, I would like to take this opportunity to raise a question to my venerated audience. It pertains to a similar thought: 

God, time and probably a trickery in gene sequencing shape us in a certain way. In The Book of Man, if some defaults are condemned as heresy, then shall we play the role of messiah and purge such 'heretics' from this agony? Is it even agony at the first place? Or is it just for the sake of our own convenience, that we have made ourselves believe that everything about madness is abnormally sad?

July 5, 2012

On Materialism

Following are the excerpts from The Book of Verity acquired by your narrator:

A red brick road finds a hurdle in the bend of a corner. The Talking Monkeys condemned the brick road to pass. The road said, "I connect you with the mighty brain of Materialism. I'm the link to your convenience. Onto me great wisdom will ride to your shores and teach you the art to make silver spoons and shrewd masks among other essential tricks and trades. You shall also be besotted by a compelling urge to kill your integrity and put forth deviousness of highest order invoked by the horns that ancient self-centered man blows from his unconscious mind. On top of that, it shall also bring prosperity too! I've been personally promised by Materialism itself. Convenience! Yes convenience and gleams of materialism will blind you, me and everyone else who will be under my master's 
tutelage beyond comprehension and doubt. Hence, I humbly extend this invitation to drown with us, in the unimaginable pit of glitterati and false confetti of bodily desires. For who doesn't crave convenience?"

"The path ye build is a miserable collusion of all the wretched, polluted, vulgar, inebriated, hollow, degenerated, infected, desolated, profaned and decayed methods to lead an everyday spirited life! Yet I offer my personal skills and knowledge of the area and various other tangible services to you, for it is the ease of life that shines my dull eyes. 
Let the benign hero pass, my brethren! For thence our life shall move like knife over butter." pleaded The Wise One, the leader of the pack of Talking Monkeys as he fiddled with the tonnage offered to them by the agent of Materialism. It included items that were never seen before by The Talking Monkeys- 
There were spices, firestarters, faces, power, electricity, automatic-guns, motor, butter & buns, medicines, king sized bed, cotton and thread, knives, bricks, cheap thrills, television, sins, long elastics and Neo-Mother Plastic.

"All this is yours! It's the compensation for exploiting your portion of our Old Mother", red brick road murmured under his breath.
But no one paid attention to that sort of blasphemy. Why would they?

"Pass, our hero, in the name of convenience! " chanted The Talking Monkeys in unison and let the brick road be. And the rest, as they say, is history, written in golden leaves.