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Plastic Jesus

Good evening, dear Friend!

Today is the luckiest day of your lifetime…Today you would receive a gift, greater than mankind…This gift would change the way you see yourself…You would no longer feel any pain, any suffering…The gift would set you free…You would be able to buy goods, eg: cars, clothes, houses, boats; speedy one and the one which floats, motorbikes, super kites, sleepless nights, once again, you would feel sane and young ..You no longer would have grey hair,  you can visit expensive salons and get essential beauty treatments… Everyone in the dazzling malls would like your shine and you would come home and fuck your wife, while she finishes her wine.. the same wine which you would get because of the gift,

you are about to receive!

These are the little things, let me skip to the most appealing part…In times of dire stress, we cover your front and back, we would also make this gift earn you some reward points, which then combined by many other reward points, which you would earn after spending thousands of dollars, would then add up to $1 that would be donated to help the starving and the poor…..That gift my friend is here…

Open the box…It’s a gift from your trusted, friendly, banker….

Yikes, It’s fucking credit card…..Shit!

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This looks ugly!

This looks ugly!

Childhood is a curious stage of our lives. We encounter with and learn to deal; an entirely, never felt before, fresh set of feelings. Feelings unknown to self! Feelings which our enslaved consciousness is conditioned to consider, prohibited!

Each incident, we experience in our lives, both small and huge, is always unique, in it’s own flimsy way.  Each experience adds knowledge to our vast data base. Though our minds have been tamed by targeted, suppressive, behaviour training, by widely regarded institutions, we still have a crude, primal being, inside, wriggling in pain, searching for truth. The truth of our existence, which is hidden, behind all those, numerous, false stories, we tell us and the world, each morning and every night.

Growing up was fun. The solo objective of Nik’s days were not to get caught. You need to tread carefully, if you want to experience fun, for longer periods. Getting caught can change the equation and dampen your free spirits. Hence, Follow the rules and break them, when no one’s watching! That was his motto of life during those days.

Are you crazy? You want us to skip college, in order to, watch some movie, you find fascinating! Do you want to get us expelled?‘ shouted Max, as loud as his lungs allowed. He made sure, he displayed emotions of anger, using his facial expressions. Conversations, both friendly and unfriendly, are more impactful when proper display of emotions is added.

‘Not some movie, that is where, you are entirely wrong. The movie is named – Fight Club, based on the novel by the same name. This is your life and it’s ending one minute at a time. ‘Your’ being the highlight of the moment. It’s your life, your time, your mistakes, your decisions, your contemplation, again, your mistakes and your failures. So you can decide whether you would like to use your time in order to understand something, larger than your petty life or you choose to follow, mundane, set guidelines of your so-called educational institution.’

And Nik continued preaching his philosophy –

“The essence of our educational system is to help us learn the art of making money. This in itself is a flawed concept, as money is a reward for success. Instead of learning, the art of making money, we should be learning how to identify and nurture our passions. Passion fuels our success, which in turn, generates, money, as a bi-product……You are advised to borrow money from financial institutions to achieve your temporary goals which are determined, not by you but by different, failed institutions of society, eg: Family, Schools, Colleges, Government, Corporations, Temples, Mosques and churches…

You need stuff! A big fucking television, an Iphone, a luxury car, a DSLR, social networking presence, celebrations in bars, branded clothing, matching footwear, planned vacations, tax benefits and a place to call home. Now, the world knows, you cannot buy any of these, without being successful. Even if your parents hand it to you, you would not be able to enjoy, the fruits of nothingness. Hence we got banks! They are such nice institutions that they offer you assistance, to buy your dreams, on easy installments. Welcome to the corporate endorsed world where happiness sells on billboards and if you find happiness expensive, your friendly banker would loan you money, which then you can pay back, till you die, of course, using an easy, payback, monthly, installment plan, which you are free to choose from many plans.

Sip a coffee, Drink a cola, You just sold yourself!


This excerpt is from Nishant’s – Broken Radio – Novel. This book is not for those who believe in happily ever after tales. It’s brilliantly creepy, violent and extremely offensive in nature. It preaches a cult philosophy against an emasculating consumerist culture.

The story is a brilliant mix of transgressed elements held together by dirty realism. It focuses on characters who feel confined by the norms and expectations of society and who break free of those confines in unusual or illicit ways. Because they are rebelling against the basic norms of society, protagonists may seem mentally ill, anti-social, or nihilistic. The book deals extensively with taboo subject matters such as drugs, sexual activity, violence, pedophilia and crime.

Read – Broken Radio (Novel)

Daunting Past

Good Morning Planet

Today we are going to talk about ‘Past’. Dictionary definition being – ”gone by in time and no longer existing.” It is important, to understand, past, as it’s an imperative variable in the equation of our lives. Throughout our lives, we mostly, see ourselves through our memories of the past.

Now, with the advent of science, it has been proven that memories are not at all a reliable source of information. We human beings deal with emotions in a very complicated manner. We keep things to ourselves and we say things, we do not mean. The society is mostly a cluster of people who either wish to lead or wish to be lead. The leader exercises control to experience gratification of power and the led ones cheerfully witness exploitation to experience gratification of a false sense of security.

Due to such restricted approach, we do not clearly remember anything. We either modify it, in terms that help us feel better. Or, we plainly choose to forget. So mostly, memories are a way, we repeat a lie to ourselves. The more we think about a past event, the more likely it is that, we start believing our own set of lies. We create these lies for temporary gratification. But revisits, by our subconscious, restores the profound clarity.

Hence, we do not remember the truth and act on false cluster of facts. This mostly sets us to experience personal failure.

Now, the remedy, is not to purely trust your instincts while indulging in defining, decision making. Your instincts are a stimuli response of your subconscious, based on your lies, hence it’s unreliable. Inviting suggestions is another way of being led. So, you cannot act on anyone’s suggestions. The only proven alternative to achieve success is by experiencing failure. Yes, I am saying – make mistakes!

The more number of times you would fail, the higher are the chances of success in your future attempts. Gear yourself up, for repeated failures, so that you live and learn in present and not follow your life’s past pattern of failures, you fail in a new manner, each morning, everyday, Fail! And then you might experience – Success.

Stop living in the past. To create a beautiful tomorrow, Die today!

Gun & Marriage licence!

Broken Radio

Nishant


Pillow talk is an essential bonding activity in a relationship. The less tenured is a relationship, the more impactful are pillow talks. It has been two years, now, since Dia and Nik moved in together but their love is still as potent, as it was, the first night. 

They make sure that the fire doesn’t burn down. Dia sits on Nik’s lap while he continues to shower her with nimble kisses. He loves licking her skin, with his tongue. He starts from her neck and continues going till her belly button, pauses for a second and then glides from her bellybutton to her thighs, till her toes.

‘Are you planning to eat me? You never get tired. Do you? You horny fuck,’ Dia says.
‘You can stop me, when, you want to. Why don’t you stop me?’ asks Nik.
‘I don’t want to.’

After burning some more calories Nik proposes, ‘Hey sweetie pie, we have been together for long and surprisingly, it’s working out, let’s get married.’
Dia gets surprised on hearing Nik talk about marriage.
You hate marriages,’ she enquires.
Yes, in principle, I do but I want to, spend the rest of my life, with you!’

You know, I can’t get married to a non-Muslim. It’s a sin for me,’ she states blatantly.

And what about this? Is this not a sin?’ he says while his hands, play, with her breasts. She moans in pleasure and whispers,

There are sins which can be forgiven and there are some which cannot. Sleeping with you makes me a sinner but I still would get forgiveness. Marrying a Kaffir is haraam. No forgiveness there
‘You and your beliefs, never made sense to me. You do know, you are twisting facts?’
How come you don’t believe in anything?’ asks Dia, in order to deflect.

‘I believe in nature. I do believe, in the universe. I believe in Kabir, Krishna, Mira, Jesus, Prophet but not as gods, as Rock stars. They were original Rock stars. They had long hair, their own bands, their original tunes; they had groupies, and they held concerts. I do believe in something and that is pretty straight. Not at all twisted!’

‘You and your beliefs never made sense to me,’ Dia says while biting him on his neck and they laugh.
They continue indulging in each other while Nik manages to convince Dia, that if it’s all the same to her, they should get married; If not a real one, then just, as an, interesting activity! ‘Let’s get married for fun!’
Nik pleads for hours, before, Dia agrees to take it as a fun activity and together they march to a registrar’s office. They dress fancy and enter the offices of  –                                                                                          ‘Gun & Marriage licence.’          

        They wait, there, for a while. Nik wore his happy face.
A clerk asks them to come to the desk.
‘Gun license would be ready in two hours. Marriage licenses take a week. What are you here for?’ asks the clerk.
I need a license,’ replies Nik.
Which model?
Oh no! I don’t need it for a gun. I need it to get married,’ says Nik.

The clerk looks at him, then looks at Dia, then looks at both of them and points his finger, towards few forms. ‘Fill these forms and come after a week!
Nik wanted to get married the same day.

I want this to be done by today’s evening. I can pay you extra, if that would help,’ he pleads. ‘I wish. Marriages, take time, my friend. Go for a gun instead. I would get you a licence by evening’ answers the clerk, sadly.

Dia looks at Nik, and they both burst into laughter. They leave, from that office and go to a nearby ice-cream parlour. 

Eating ice cream, together, is an essential bonding activity in a relationship. Nik loved vanilla and Dia loved strawberry. They order a two in one.


Source: Broken Radio(novel by Nishant). This book is not for those who believe in happily ever after tales. It’s brilliantly creepy, violent and extremely offensive in nature. It preaches a cult philosophy against an emasculating consumerist culture.

The story is a brilliant mix of transgressed elements held together by dirty realism. It focuses on characters who feel confined by the norms and expectations of society and who break free of those confines in unusual or illicit ways. Because they are rebelling against the basic norms of society, protagonists may seem mentally ill, anti-social, or nihilistic. The book deals extensively with taboo subject matters such as drugs, sexual activity, violence, pedophilia and crime.

Read Broken Radio – Novel

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What we talk, when we talk, about, Love! – Act II

Good Morning Planet

It’s a bright, sunny morning, here in the BrokenRadio Studios, and we bring you ACT II of

“What we talk, when we talk, about, Love!”

Act I – What we talk, when we talk, about, Love!


BrokenRadio Theaters present, to you, a play written by Khadija (You think You know) & Nishant (Broken Radio).

Act II – Begins,

( The stage is brightly lit with various performers dancing in the background. Nik is standing on the stage with few pages in his hand. He has, his reading glasses, on. The music fades away..performers continue dancing. Nik addresses the audience)

Curtains Rise!

(Crowd cheers. Loud Applause)

Understanding The Rise in Skies & the Fall on Earth

Nik : The title in itself, is enigmatic. The poetess is comparing two cosmic events. One being Eid and other falling in Love. The poetess talks about a confused and unsure kind of love, that is really rare and yet the most captivating. (He comes forward on the stage)  The protagonist to whom the poetess address as the ‘Dark Prince‘… is a great admirer of her and is madly in love with her. As much, as the poetess tries not to develop similar feelings, she does get smitten, eventually. Mostly, the poem talks about their secret encounters and exchange of words.. What poetess envies the most is when she experiences cosmic love, the Dark Prince is not their celebrating the rise in the sky; Eid.. As much as the poetess hates it, she’s willing to give him another chance as she too is hopelessly in love. (Nik throws the pages in air)
 But then again, who knows poetry.. It’s always, what’s not said, never, what is.

(Lights fade out. The background changes itself back to the Act I setting. Nik removes his reading glasses. Kate walks in)

Kate: Brilliant job. You scored an A. Although, it isn’t the true derivation entirely.

(Moves forward on the stage and addresses the audience)

Well, the rise in the sky and fall on the earth shows, how you take me high in the skies and then throw me down on the ground. I experience a bliss in a moment and in the next, you abandon me mercilessly. When the world spoke about us, You said; my destiny walked into my door. My pride and your ego clashed and doomed were we. Then one night we met again after your endless efforts of getting me back. And we celebrated the festival like it was the last Eid on earth. You said – it’s us against the world, give me time, cope with me.

(The stage fills itself with mystic silence. We could hear loud breathing.)

Nik: (murmurs slowly to himself) There was silence in the air. All three of us were breathing heavily. Me, her and Johnnie Walker. (Nik walks away from Kate and continues murmuring)  I am jealous of this Dark Prince, Kate dedicated a poem for him! (Looks at a picture of another women) The only lines she ever dedicated to me was – “I am nobody’s fool” and it took me weeks to understand, what it really meant.

Kate: Life was perfect!

Nik: (walks near Kate) Well, let me dedicate my prayers for your eternal, blissful, family stamped, first love. If this doesn’t see a happy ending, then love should, atleast, not be in dictionary and books should paint it black, with dark ink.

Kate: That’s so accurately put. This is not love, though! (pauses for a moment, looks lost in memories) I don’t know, what love is.. 

Nik: What is it, then? I have no clue, what love is! Truly, Sincerely, Please tell me.

(The performers swarm the stage and start dancing rigorously, there is no music, playing, in the background)

Kate: It’s hard to express. Maybe 10000 pages or maybe less! Why are you, so intent to know the definition of love?

Nik: I need to write about love and I have not, ever, experienced it. Hence the curiousity. I want to know, what love is!

Kate: (looks at him for a moment, lovingly, addresses the audience) Love is divine, it makes you experience the most extreme emotions that you were oblivious of. But it’s got one and only one rule; You have to forget self love and even if you can’t, have, your love, for yourself, forever, smile and be grateful for the memories and experiences. Love does not mean achieving. Love needs no labels, no possessions, no ownership. You welcome it’s arrival, with a smile, and then you let it go, with a smile. (looks at Nik and continues) So, If your fav doll is lost, don’t cry, rather cherish the moment you had with it and live life.

Nik: That does make a lot of sense, Miss. But, I need a clarification. I guess, in our lifetime, we experience love more than once. So is their something also called – True Love? Or it’s the same every time!

Kate: (addresses the audience) I don’t know, that’s an interesting question. According to me, love is just once, But that does not mean it seals your fate. You carry on and live life, settle for someone really charming, who makes you happy.

Nik: (looks at Kate) Would you care to know my thoughts? (Doesn’t wait for her response and continues, addresses the audience) To understand love, we need to understand time. (dancers in the background are not at all performing in sync, each artist seems to be following their own steps, the stage suddenly gets chaotic, lights flicker) 

There is past, present and future. Past is all memories and Future is entirely imagination. So, what matters is now! Present matters. Not what happened a moment ago, not what might happen next, No fear, no assumption, Just now – living in the moment. (Goes near Kate) What are you doing now? (she thinks, he doesn’t wait for her response and continues speaking to the audience) Right now…right fucking now…She is experiencing release of adrenaline and dopamine, look at her, how happy she seems (there is a sadness on Kate’s face) We are experiencing effects of tiny pills laced with love. (Nik comes to the edge of the stage and yells)

There is no absolute love. That is a cosmic event.. Barely happens.. I am trying to recreate, but still it takes ages.. This is day to day love.. What people call love, when they talk about love. What humanity needs to experience, is, Cosmic love. Feeling of being around even during absences.. Dreams.. Mutual dreams.. You communicate without words. You close your eyes and your partner feels you missing them…
Love is not necessarily both sided.. Moon and the sea try and hug each other, failing, every full moon night..When the moon is completely naked.. That’s the love I talk about. That’s the love I want to experience. I want to know what love is!

Kate: (holds his hand) Look at us, making a failed attempt at defining love..

(They both stare into each other eyes. Curtains Fall, Crowd goes crazy, Crowd whistles among the loud thud)

Play Ends.


Whoa! That was something. Huh? Let me make breakfast, she would be awake soon. You enjoy your friendly Tupperware! Have a nice day.

What we talk, when we talk, about, Love!

 

Good Evening Planet

It’s a lovely evening, indeed. There is a dazzling, shimmering, reason behind this love, in the evening. Yesterday morning, I released the first chapter of my 2nd book – Smokes & Strings – Boulevard of Broken Art. It’s a love story. A twisted one.

I had my doubts, because, what do I know? I, have, never been in love. I just experienced what television sold, not the books…the Television. I went out on dates in shopping malls, bought gifts and had sex. It did seem like love, back then. Now, I am a grown up. I no longer watch television. I only read books and I only talk to writers. And, I want to know what love is…..

I asked my friend, Khadija Fatima – Author of You Think You Know ,”Do you know, what love is?” She sent me a poem. The Rise in Skies & the Fall on Earth. But then we all know, we need to figure out ART. It’s always ”what’s not said” and never, ”what is”.

So, I made some failed attempts to understand it and finally gave up. I, then again, asked her to explain….And we both ended up writing this play….


Ladies and Gentlemen, Tonight’s entertainment is a play about love, loss, pride, humility and then, love, again. BrokenRadio Theatres Present, to you, a play written by Khadija (You think You know) and Nishant (Broken Radio) .

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Act I – Begins,

Lift the curtains!

(Crowd Cheers, Loud applause, A remarkably thin male is sitting on a stool, in front of a stunningly beautiful female. They both are in their prime youth and seem very cheerful. The entire stage is lit with bright lights, with no gloominess in any corner, apart from, in the eyes of, both the protagonists)

Nik: How are we doing today, Kate. What are we doing?

Kate: Heya! Ahh been occupied. I had company. Now, was enjoying my alone time, and then you walked in and sat, there, right, on that stool.

Nik: Well, if anyone would have such a delightful company as you, blessed are those few.

Kate: Ain’t you guys just too nice.

Nik: Well, you pay me to be nice. I think, I should get at least twice the amount you pay me, because, of the time I invest in you . Your project, I mean!

Kate: Oh, I didn’t know, I pay you to be nice.

Nik: Yeah, a very unfair amount though but then there are other perks which I truly enjoy.

Kate: You are funny! (Sarcastically)

Nik:  I am serious, always. It’s, you, who somehow induce humor in my deadbeat words.
And I guess, glamor, too.

Kate: Yes, glamor, I agree cause I just love it. We’re both sarcastic.

Nik: I am not. Talk about yourself, Lady! (pauses, clears throat) You are the friendliest ‘client’, I ever had the pleasure to service. Never met someone with your potential, in this, big, bad, round, uneven, world. 

(A smiles spreads on Kate’s face and the black and white lights change to a rainbow)

And, that smile, That’s, what makes my days, and evenings, and someday, other periods of my long, lonely, lazy, mundane, days.

Kate: My goodness. I think, I’m done with compliments. 

Nik: (stammers) Oh, Okay, no more for today, then. (Pauses for a second. Dramatic music plays in the background, for a second. Music stops) Glad, I have nothing to say about your, yesterday’s picture. It just made me speechless.

Kate: (blushes) Oh, about that, I think, I was too happy yesterday since everyone loved my poem. So, hence the glow. (Comes closer, and whispers in his ears) Even, in the theatre people were staring madly. (Pulls her face back and continues talking). So, Yeah, partial credit goes to you for publishing it. And my makeup of course 😸 I love shimmer!

Nik: (Comes closer, and stares in her eyes) The stares were all for you, so, you deserve the credit. (lights go dim, girl bows down) Shimmer, loves, being on you. (pulls her closer) You think, you know, let me tell you something, Ignorance is bliss. 

icelandic-dance

(Lights are back. It’s just a white, bright light. Nik and Kate adjust their seats, the moment lights, change color. There is a chaotic silence on the stage. The background music is of an animal being choked to death. The music gets louder. Nik stands up. Kate pulls her chair farther away from him.)

Kate: (coldly, her voice comes from far to the audience) So, what could you make from the poem? 

Nik: (Addresses the audience) And the poetess wants to know… What, the commoner sees… Okay! 

(looks at her and continues)

Understanding, The Rise in Skies & the Fall on Earth ….

The stage drifts away from behind, from beneath, his feet. The background metamorphoses into an old, dusty, rusty, library. Kate exits the scene. Nik wears reading glasses. And the curtains fall…Crowd cheers..) 

ACT I – Ends


Hope, you guys enjoyed reading this, as much as we enjoyed writing. BrokenRadio would return with the second act, soon enough. Grab a smoke for now. Will ya!

The Crystal Ship

“People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that’s bullshit. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they’re afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they’re wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It’s all in how you carry it. That’s what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them, you’re letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain.”
― Jim Morrison

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“The Crystal Ship”

Before you slip into unconsciousness
I’d like to have another kiss
Another flashing chance at bliss
Another kiss, another kiss
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The days are bright and filled with pain
Enclose me in your gentle rain
The time you ran was too insane
We’ll meet again, we’ll meet again

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Oh tell me where your freedom lies
The streets are fields that never die
Deliver me from reasons why
You’d rather cry, I’d rather fly

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The crystal ship is being filled
A thousand girls, a thousand thrills
A million ways to spend your time
When we get back, I’ll drop a line

— Morrison

I Could See The Smallest Things

I was in bed when I heard the gate. I listened carefully. I didn’t hear anything else. But I heard that. I tried to wake Cliff. He was passed out. So I got up and went to the window. A big moon was laid over the mountains that went around the city. It was a white moon and covered with stars. Any damn fool could imagine a face there.

There was light enough so that I could see everything in the yard – lawn chairs, the willow tree, clothesline strung between the poles, the petunias, the fences, the gate standing wide open.

But nobody was moving around. There were no scary shadows. Everything lay in moonlight, and I could see the smallest things. The clothespins on the line for instance.

I put my hands on the glass to block out the moon. I looked some more. I listened. Then I went back to bed.

But I couldn’t get to sleep. I kept turning over. I thought about the gate standing open. It was like a dare.

Cliff’s breathing was awful to listen to. His mouth gaped open and his arms hugged his pale chest. He was taking up his side of the bed and most of mine.

I pushed and pushed on him. But he just groaned.

I stayed a while longer until I decided it was no use. I got up and got my slippers. I went to the kitchen and made tea and sat with it at the kitchen table. I smoked one of Cliff’s unfiltereds.

It was late. I didn’t want to look at the time. I drank the tea and smoked another cigarette. After a while I decided I’d go out and fasten up the gate.

So I got my robe.

The moon lighted up everything – houses and trees, poles and power lines, the whole world. I peered around the backyard before I stepped off the porch. A little breeze came along that made me close the robe.

I started for the gate.

There was a noise at the fences that separated our place from Sam Lawton’s place. I took a sharp look. Sam was leaning with his arms on his fence, there being two fences to lean on. He raised his fist to his mouth and gave a dry cough.

‘Evening Nancy’, Sam Lawton said.

I said, ‘Sam you scared me.’ I said, ‘What are you doing up?’ ‘Did you hear something?’ I said. ‘I heard the gate unlatch.’

He said, ‘I didn’t hear anything. Haven’t seen anything, either. It might have been the wind.’

He was chewing something. He looked at the open gate and shrugged. His hair was silvery in the moonlight and stood up on his head. I could see his long nose, the lines in his big sad face.

I said, ‘What are you doing up, Sam? and moved closer to the fence.

‘Want to see something?’ he said.

‘I’ll come round’, I said.

I let myself out and went along the walk. It felt funny walking around outside in my nightgown and my robe. I thought to myself that I should try to remember this, walking around outside like this.

Sam was standing over by the side of his house, his pyjamas way up high over his tan-and-white shoes. He was holding a flashlight in one hand and a can of something in the other.

Sam and Cliff used to be friends. Then one night they got to drinking. They had words. The next thing, Sam had built a fence and then Cliff built one too.

That was after Sam had lost Mille, gotten married again, and become a father again all in the space of no time at all. Millie had been a good friend until she died. She was only forty-five when she did it. Heart failure. It hit her just as she was coming into their drive. The car kept going and went through the back of the carport.

‘Look at this,’ Sam said, hitching his pyjama trousers and squatting down. He pointed his light at the ground.

I looked and saw some wormy things curled on a patch of dirt.

‘Slugs,’ he said. ‘I just gave them a dose of this’, he said, raising a can of something that looked like Ajax. ‘They’re taking over,’ he said, and worked whatever it was that he had in his mouth. He turned his head to one side and spit what could have been tobacco. ‘I have to keep at this to just come close to staying up with them.’ He turned his light on a jar that was filled with the things. ‘I put the bait out, and then every chance I get I come out here with this stuff. Bastards are all over. A crime what they can do. Look here,’ he said.

He got up. He took my arm and moved me over to his rosebushes. He showed me the little holes in the leaves.

‘Slugs’, he said. ‘Everywhere you look around here at night. I lay out bait and then I come out and get them,’ he said. ‘An awful invention, the slug. I save them up in that jar over there.’ He moved his light to under the rosebush.

A plane passed overhead. I imagined the people on it staring down at the ground.

‘Sam’, I said, ‘how’s everybody?’

‘They’re fine,’ he said, and shrugged.

He chewed on whatever it was he was chewing. ‘How’s Clifford?’ he said.

I said, ‘Same as ever.’

Sam said, ‘Sometimes when I’m out here after the slugs, I’ll look over in your direction.’ He said, ‘I wish me and Cliff were friends again. Look there now,’ he said, and drew a sharp breath. ‘There’s one there. See him? Right there where my light is.’ He had the beam directed onto the dirt under the rosebush. ‘Watch this,’ Sam said.

I closed my arms under my breasts and bent over to where he was shining his light. The thing stopped moving and turned its head from side to side. Then Sam was over it with his can of powder, sprinkling the powder down.

‘Slimy things’, he said.

The slug was twisting this way and that. Then it curled and straightened out. Sam picked up a toy shovel, and scooped the slug into it, and dumped it out in the jar.

‘I quit you know,’ Sam said. ‘Had to. For a while it was getting so I didn’t know up from down. We still keep it around the house but I don’t have much to do with it anymore.’

I nodded. He looked at me and he kept looking.

‘I’d better get back,’ I said.

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘I’ll continue with what I’m doing and then when I’m finished, I’ll head in too.’

I said, ‘Good night, Sam.’

He said, ‘Listen.’ He stopped chewing. With his tongue, he pushed whatever it was behind his lower lip. ‘Tell Cliff I said hello.’

I said, ‘I’ll tell him you said so, Sam.’

Sam ran his hand through his silvery hair as if he was going to make it sit down once and for all, and then he used his hand to wave.

In the bedroom, I took off the robe, folded it, put it within reach. Without looking at the time, I checked to make sure the stem was out on the clock. Then I got into bed, pulled the covers up, and closed my eyes.

It was then that I remembered I’d forgotten to latch the gate.

I opened my eyes and lay there. I gave Cliff a little shake. He cleared his throat. He swallowed. Something caught and dribbled in his chest.

I don’t know. It made me think of those things that Sam Lawton was dumping powder on.

I thought for a minute of the world outside my house, and then didn’t have any more thoughts except the thought that I had to hurry up and sleep.

Source: Raymond Carver (1985) The Stories of Raymond Carver, London, Picador/Pan Books, pp.204-7


“What We Talk About When We Talk About Love” is not only the most well-known short story title of the latter part of the 20th century; it has come to stand for an entire aesthetic, the bare-bones prose style for which Raymond Carver became famous. Perhaps, it could be argued, too famous, at least for his fiction’s own good. Like those of Hemingway or any other writer similarly loved, imitated, parodied, and reviled, these stories can sometimes produce the sense of reading pastiche. “A man without hands came to the door to sell me a photograph of my house.” “That morning she pours Teacher’s over my belly and licks it off. That afternoon she tries to jump out the window.” “My friend Mel McGinnis was talking. Mel is a cardiologist, and sometimes that gives him the right.” What other writer ever produced first sentences like these? They are like doors into Carverworld, where everyone speaks in simple declarative phrases, no one ever stops at one beer, and failure or violence are the true outcomes of the American dream.

Yet these stories bear careful re-reading, like any truly important and enduring work. For one thing, Carver is one of the few writers who can make desperation–cutting your ex-wife’s telephone cord in the middle of a conversation, standing on your own roof chunking rocks while a man with no hands takes your picture–deeply funny. Then there is the sheer craft that went into their creation. Despite their seeming simplicity, his tales are as artfully constructed as poems–and like poems, the best of them can make your breath catch in your throat. In the title piece, for instance, after the gin has been drunk, after the stories have been told, after the tensions in the room have come to the surface and subsided again, there comes a moment of strange lightness and peace: “I could hear my heart beating. I could hear everyone’s heart. I could hear the human noise we sat there making, not one of us moving, not even when the room went dark.”

Much of what happens in What We Talk About When We Talk About Love (1981) happens offstage, and we’re left with tragedy’s props: booze, instant coffee, furniture from a failed marriage, cigarettes smoked in the middle of the night. This is not merely a matter of technique. Carver leaves out a great deal, but that’s only a measure of his characters’ vulnerability, the nerve endings his stories lay bare. To say anything more, one feels, would simply hurt too much. –Mary Park

Modi & Yogi – Rise of Monkey Men

Good Afternoon Planet

Today morning we all agreed that organized religion breeds hatred and is mostly based on a captivating story. Let’s talk about one today, before we discuss our so called Hindu Savior leaders.

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Hanuman , he’s a well regarded mythological figure. Mythology means – a collection of myths, especially one belonging to a particular religious or cultural tradition. As per Hindu mythology, Hanuman is a divine monkey who was Ram’s companion.

The texts mention about a scholar Raavan, who was blessed by Lord Shiva (a yogi – one who masters the ancient, mystic art of yoga). Raavan was of higher intellect. He was regarded as someone so intelligent that he is widely believed to have 10 heads, meaning he was wiser than ten collective wise men. Raavan’s sister fell in love with Ram. Ram was already married. So Ram rejected her and instructed his younger brother to chop her nose off to teach her a lesson.

Let’s pause and understand the story. Ram was exiled by his own family. Family is always regarded as the pillar of love and support. Parents never abandon children, even in dire circumstances. Ram must have done at least something to piss his people to bring the exile upon himself. No one denies this fact.

A women fell in love with a married man. I understand, even in today’s society it’s considered a taboo. But, Is it unconstitutional? Did she commit a felony? No. She did not. As a matter of fact she didn’t even know, Ram was an unavailable man. She just fell in love with a misogynist. A man who was so blind and greedy that he abandoned his wife also, later on, questioning her integrity. The same wife who blessed him with her unconditional love and shared the pains of exile with him equally.

This man had no right to physically harm a woman. If he wasn’t interested, he could have ended things on a polite note and maybe people would have wrote sonnets about this incomplete love. But he being a women hater, choose to punish Raavan’s for her forthcoming conduct. Feminists, I hope you listening now.

Raavan being a scholar and a warrior choose to punish Ram. He took his pride away. He stole Ram’s wife. Now Ram who is supposedly worshiped as one of the strongest men, failed to defend his wife. How Ironical! I guess the exile was well deserved.

Someone who cannot defend his wife, no one would imagine him to defend an entire country.

Anyways, his divine monkey friend decided to help him out. This divine monkey went with a bag full of tricks and burnt a city which was a center of trade and a symbol of prosperity – Lanka. A city so legendary that the walls were made of gold. It’s referred as the Golden Lanka. And then finally Ram defeated Raavan with the help of an army of chimps, plotting an assassination by the help of Raavan’s jilted, traitor of a brother.

Ram freed his wife and then abandoned her.

The crux of the story – Be a hater. Hate women. Question their integrity. And hate anyone who is wise and powerful because you are petty within.

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Now let’s see our two biggest Indian leaders. PM Modi and CM Yogi. They both hate women. PM Modi abandoned his wife. Yogi never got married. They both are extremely narrow minded and resort to primal selves when feel threatened. Modi is known to have reached his throne of seven kingdoms by trampling and climbing over more than a millions of riot victims.

An activist of Rashtrawadi Sena holds a trishul as he shouts anti-Pakistan slogans during a protest in New Delhi

Hanuman, the divine monkey brought riot in Lanka. Yogi’s men – Hindu Sena do the same. They have figured out that a big riot can cause global pressure. So now it’s two killings each day. Solves the purpose and doesn’t bring any shame. That’s smart thinking.

India Elections

I pledge to vote for the Monkey Men in 2019. Monkey power rocks India. Indians hate being called snake charmers. I think Monkey Men would be okay with them.

Religion – Major League Bullshit

Good Morning Planet

Yesterday night something strange happened, as usual. A friend messaged me posing a question,

“Have you converted to Islam?”

Recently I have been writing about Islam and Prophet (PBUH), a lot. So, I can’t really blame him. People always perceive and believe the easiest possible explanation . What they fail to grasp is, religion, like any other belief is just a web of entangled, confused, misinterpreted, set of words and quotes. It’s just another story and most certainly a captivating one. Now, when it comes to all the floating stories currently on paper and in tube, I like the love story of Khadeeja the Great and Prophet more than any other. It makes a lot of sense. Out of sheer love came a set of belief so powerful that it swept the world. The belief system is extremely strong and only preaches love and love and love and love and love, UNCONDITIONAL LOVE.

But as always it’s misinterpreted, (read “Are You a Chimp!“, to know why), twisted for personal gains and propaganda purposes by organized governments and unorganized pseudo governments.  

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Topless activists of the Ukrainian women movement Femen take part in a protest against the fierce opposition from the Roman Catholic Church to authorise gay marriage on November 18, 2012 in Paris. AFP PHOTO KENZO TRIBOUILLARD FRANCE-FEMEN-HOMOSEXUALITY-DEMO

“George Carlin – When it comes to bullshit, big-time, major league bullshit, you have to stand in awe of the all-time champion of false promises and exaggerated claims, religion. No contest. No contest. Religion. Religion easily has the greatest bullshit story ever told. Think about it. Religion has actually convinced people that there’s an invisible man living in the sky who watches everything you do, every minute of every day. And the invisible man has a special list of ten things he does not want you to do. And if you do any of these ten things, he has a special place, full of fire and smoke and burning and torture and anguish, where he will send you to live and suffer and burn and choke and scream and cry forever and ever ’til the end of time!

But He loves you. He loves you, and He needs money! He always needs money! He’s all-powerful, all-perfect, all-knowing, and all-wise, somehow just can’t handle money! Religion takes in billions of dollars, they pay no taxes, and they always need a little more. Now, you talk about a good bullshit story. Holy Shit”

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Bill Maher: The irony of religion is that because of its power to divert man to destructive courses, the world could actually come to an end. The plain fact is, religion must die for mankind to live. The hour is getting very late to be able to indulge in having in key decisions made by religious people. By irrationalists, by those who would steer the ship of state not by a compass, but by the equivalent of reading the entrails of a chicken. George Bush prayed a lot about Iraq, but he didn’t learn a lot about it. Faith means making a virtue out of not thinking. It’s nothing to brag about. And those who preach faith, and enable and elevate it are intellectual slaveholders, keeping mankind in a bondage to fantasy and nonsense that has spawned and justified so much lunacy and destruction. Religion is dangerous because it allows human beings who don’t have all the answers to think that they do. Most people would think it’s wonderful when someone says, “I’m willing, Lord! I’ll do whatever you want me to do!” Except that since there are no gods actually talking to us, that void is filled in by people with their own corruptions and limitations and agendas. And anyone who tells you they know, they just know what happens when you die, I promise you, you don’t. How can I be so sure? Because I don’t know, and you do not possess mental powers that I do not. The only appropriate attitude for man to have about the big questions is not the arrogant certitude that is the hallmark of religion, but doubt. Doubt is humble, and that’s what man needs to be, considering that human history is just a litany of getting shit dead wrong. This is why rational people, anti-religionists, must end their timidity and come out of the closet and assert themselves. And those who consider themselves only moderately religious really need to look in the mirror and realize that the solace and comfort that religion brings you actually comes at a terrible price. If you belonged to a political party or a social club that was tied to as much bigotry, misogyny, homophobia, violence, and sheer ignorance as religion is, you’d resign in protest. To do otherwise is to be an enabler, a mafia wife, for the true devils of extremism that draw their legitimacy from the billions of their fellow travelers. If the world does come to an end here, or wherever, or if it limps into the future, decimated by the effects of religion-inspired nuclear terrorism, let’s remember what the real problem was that we learned how to precipitate mass death before we got past the neurological disorder of wishing for it. That’s it. Grow up or die.”today

To sum it up for you,

“Isha V Singh – Organized Religion is a slow cancer. Keep Praying. God won’t save you.”

Why so Serious?

There is not even a single shred of evidence in universe, supporting, Life is Serious.

Isha V. Singh

I step out of my broken abode, I see trembling faces.

I look closer. Fear-struck are they. Fear of being judged, touched, loved, hated, heard, unheard, rejected, cheated, raped. Fear of being happy.

Fear of finding peace and tranquility. Fear of freedom from the chaos.

It’s very troubling to see, poor souls suffer. What can I do?

I can try telling some stories that might help you.

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“I’d consider myself a realist, alright? But in philosophical terms I’m what’s called a pessimist… I think human consciousness is a tragic misstep in evolution. We became too self-aware. Nature created an aspect of nature separate from itself – we are creatures that should not exist by natural law… We are things that labor under the illusion of having a self, that accretion of sensory experience and feelings, programmed with total assurance that we are each somebody, when in fact everybody’s nobody… I think the honorable thing for our species to do is to deny our programming. Stop reproducing, walk hand in hand into extinction – one last midnight, brothers and sisters opting out of a raw deal.

― Rust Cohen

“Today a young man on acid realized that all matter is merely energy condensed to a slow vibration, that we are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively, there is no such thing as death, life is only a dream, and we are the imagination of ourselves. Here’s Tom with the Weather.”
Bill Hicks

“The world is like a ride in an amusement park, and when you choose to go on it you think it’s real because that’s how powerful our minds are. The ride goes up and down, around and around, it has thrills and chills, and it’s very brightly colored, and it’s very loud, and it’s fun for a while. Many people have been on the ride a long time, and they begin to wonder, “Hey, is this real, or is this just a ride?” And other people have remembered, and they come back to us and say, “Hey, don’t worry; don’t be afraid, ever, because this is just a ride.” And we … kill those people. “Shut him up! I’ve got a lot invested in this ride, shut him up! Look at my furrows of worry, look at my big bank account, and my family. This has to be real.” It’s just a ride. But we always kill the good guys who try and tell us that, you ever notice that? And let the demons run amok … But it doesn’t matter, because it’s just a ride. And we can change it any time we want. It’s only a choice. No effort, no work, no job, no savings of money. Just a simple choice, right now, between fear and love. The eyes of fear want you to put bigger locks on your doors, buy guns, close yourself off. The eyes of love instead see all of us as one. Here’s what we can do to change the world, right now, to a better ride. Take all that money we spend on weapons and defenses each year and instead spend it feeding and clothing and educating the poor of the world, which it would pay for many times over, not one human being excluded, and we could explore space, together, both inner and outer, forever, in peace.”
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My father was a drinker and a fiend and one night he goes off crazier than usual. Mommy gets the kitchen knife to defend herself. He doesn’t like that, not one bit. So, me watching he takes the knife to her, laughing while he does it. He turns to me and he says “WHY SO SERIOUS!?”. He comes at me with the knife “why so serious!?” Sticks the blade in my mouth “lets put a smile on that face!” aaaand….. why sooooo serrrious?
Why are You so Serious?
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The Infamous Love Guru – OSHO

Truth is within you, do not search for it elsewhere.

Live wakefully, Die each moment so that you can be new each moment.

Do not search. That which is, is. Stop and see.

Love Guru – OSHO

Shree Rajneesh (born Chandra Mohan Jain, 11 December 1931 – 19 January 1990), also known as Osho, Acharya Rajneesh, or simply Rajneesh, was an Indian Godman and leader of the Rajneesh movement. During his lifetime he was viewed as a controversial mystic, guru, and spiritual teacher. In the 1960s he travelled throughout India as a public speaker and was a vocal critic of socialism, Mahatma Gandhi, and Hindu religious orthodoxy.[6] He advocated a more open attitude towards human sexuality, earning him the sobriquet “sex guru” in the Indian and later international press, although this attitude became more acceptable with time.

“When love expresses through you it first expresses as the body. It becomes sex. If it expresses through the mind, which is higher, deeper, subtler, then it is called love. If it expresses through the spirit, it becomes prayer….”

In 1970 Rajneesh spent time in Mumbai initiating followers known as “neo-sannyasins.” During this period he expanded his spiritual teachings and through his discourses gave an original insight into the writings of religious traditions, mystics, and philosophers from around the world. In 1974 Rajneesh relocated to Pune where a foundation and ashram was established to offer a variety of “transformational tools” for both Indian and international visitors. By the late 1970s, tension between the ruling Janata Party government of Morarji Desai and the movement led to a curbing of the ashram’s development.

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In 1981 efforts refocused on activities in the United States and Rajneesh relocated to a facility known as Rajneeshpuram in Wasco County, Oregon. Almost immediately the movement ran into conflict with county residents and the State government and a succession of legal battles concerning the ashram’s construction and continued development curtailed its success. In 1985, following the investigation of serious crimes including the 1984 Rajneeshee bioterror attack, and an assassination plot to murder US Attorney Charles H. Turner, Rajneesh alleged that his personal secretary Ma Anand Sheela and her close supportters had been responsible. He was later deported from the United States in accordance with an Alford plea bargain.

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After his deportation 21 countries denied him entry, and he ultimately returned to India, and a reinvigorated Pune ashram, where he died in 1990. His ashram is today known as the Osho International Meditation Resort.

His syncretic teachings emphasise the importance of meditation, awareness, love, celebration, courage, creativity, and humor—qualities that he viewed as being suppressed by adherence to static belief systems, religious tradition, and socialisation. Rajneesh’s teachings have had a notable impact on Western New Age thought, and their popularity has increased markedly since his death.

“If everything goes well and sex is natural and flowing it is a beautiful experience because you can have a glimpse of the second through it. If sex goes really very deep, so that you forget yourself completely in it, you can even have a glimpse of the third through it. And if sex becomes a total orgasmic experience, there are rare moments when you can even have a glimpse of the fourth, the turiya, the beyond, through it.”
 
But if sex fails, then many perversions happen to the mind. These perversions are expressed in hatred. Hatred is a failure of sex, a failure of love energy. Violence, lust for money, the continuous conflicting attitudes of egos: war, politics – these are all sex perversions.”
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