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How to deal with procrastination

Good Morning Planet

Waking up is always the most important part of the day. You wake up, you look around, you find everything you care about is falling apart. You prefer going back to bed. Your stomach growls, makes some noises, you grab some leftovers with a little booze and stuff it inside. You are aware stuffing in or not – nothing would ever change. You feed yourself because you do not have the constitution to starve yourself to death. You further intoxicate yourself to numb your senses. You indulge in a handful of other escape phenomenon – watching tv shows, playing video games, mastrubating; then you go back to bed. Sounds like an ideal day!

A little more productive day would be maybe working for a corporation while you are zoned out. You are there, you are present physically but your soul keeps on wandering off in the gallows of nothingness. Not that I am questioning your lifestyle but what if I can suggest you a better alternative?

Your life is perfect. You are a philosopher. You are not an average Joe. You are the most unique Joe. You belong to the long list of awakened souls – nihilists. Any action you take has no meaning so you prefer not to give a fuck. That’s my philosophy too. I am pretty aware that the less you care, the simpler is your life. The only challenge with this philosophy is – you cease to exist. There is no hope for a better tomorrow and no longing for a missed yesterday. Not that it matters but a little hope isn’t that bad.

So, here a working model for a better tomorrow suited for nihilists-

  • Stop punishing yourself: The world was, is and would always remain an ugly place. There is absolutely nothing anyone can do to make things better. What you can do is make it bearable for yourself and people around. So, the first step is stop punishing yourself. You are suffering and more suffering wouldn’t ease your misery.
  • Find a goal: Easier said than done, I know but it’s essential. While figuring for a long term goal develop micro habits. Get up and make your bed. Clean your room. Those empty walls around you have committed no crime. Cover those naked walls with some paintings, quotes, inspiring celebrity posters, whatever turns your crank. Cook your breakfast. Wash your clothes.
  • Measure your success: You would fail. Not once, not twice, countless times but remember whenever you fail, you never begin from the first step, you only repeat the last step, hence technically you didn’t fail. Someday you would succeed and you would feel better.

All said and done, the reality would still remain the same. This world is an ugly place and it would continue to haunt you till your last breath. It’s your choice how to look at it. It’s your choice how to interact with it. Whether you want to numb yourself or feel the occasional joy amidst tons of sorrow, choose wisely.

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Insomnia

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And her thought striked

Once again, last midnight

She leaves me be

When I think of dying

The moment my heart pumps blood

My socket of eyeballs starts crying

Lost in oblivion

She never nears

The moment I smile

She never bears

All the directions

Nine fathoms Deep

I got no dope

How the fuck do I sleep!

Closed eyes see her face

Open eyes menace

Go away go away

Lover, I got nothing to say

Go away, with your false bundle of joy

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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)

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.

The Rise in Skies & the Fall on Earth

Good Evening Planet

An adrenaline junkie is somebody who engages in sensation-seeking behavior through “the pursuit of novel and intense experiences without regard for physical, social, legal or financial risk”. Such activities include extreme and risky sports, substance abuse, unsafe sex, and crime. The term relates to the increase in circulating levels of adrenaline during physiological stress.

Dopamine is another profound chemical. The effects of dopamine include increases in heart rate, body temperature, and sweating; improvements in alertness, attention, and endurance; increases in pleasure produced by rewarding events; but at higher doses agitation, anxiety, or even loss of contact with reality.  Stimulants such as nicotine, cocaine and methamphetamine promote increased levels of dopamine.

Only a handful of addicts are aware that ART induces a combination of both adrenaline and dopamine. This evening a dear friend of mine, Author – Khadija FatimaYou think You know, made me read one of her poems. Well, I am high on her words ; A perfect blend of two of the planet’s most profound chemical.

As much as I wanna save this drug for myself, I cannot deprive the world from such beautiful poetry. So, Ladies & Gentlemen, this terrific evening, Broken Radio presents you, an original poem by Miss Khadija Fatima!

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“The Rise in Skies & the Fall on Earth

You beamed with wits when you saw me

A little gut feeling went unattended

Danced like a lunatic when we met

Made me reminisce an old love song in your red dodge

Table with Kebabs and Game of thrones

Surprised me with taste of India in a Pak lounge

Twice the dawn turned into dusk, then we met again

Flirted with flamboyance until I gave up

We flew away as written in the palms of time

Months passed with eternal nights filled with thrills

Planning and preparation, our palpations never halted

Then you came crossing the deep seas

When we met in the mist of frosty days

I set eyes on you and I knew you were mine

When the world asked our story, your lips moved radiantly

And the bliss I heard, “my destiny walked into my door”

How we loved our chilly walks full of joy and fear

Our confound natures created a havoc

And it all ended in sorrow and vague

Until the darkest night crawled back, we met again

I buttoned your sleeves and relived your skin

Humoured and ridiculed the world in good faith

The mighty Eid arrived, and it struck what I missed

We spoke the unheard words, us against the world

My quest with the dark prince, who said we still got time…  “

— Kate

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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

Jaune-1200x800-©HenrikHaven-865x577

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

Jack Sparrow: Aye Aye Captain!

Good Morning Planet

Today is Friday. I love Fridays.

It is mentioned in the Quran:

O ye who believe! When the call is proclaimed to prayer on Friday (the Day of Assembly, yawm al-jumu’ah), hasten earnestly to the Remembrance of Allah, and leave off business (and traffic): That is best for you if ye but knew!
And when the Prayer is finished, then may ye disperse through the land, and seek of the Bounty of Allah: and celebrate the Praises of Allah often (and without stint): that ye may prosper.

— Qur’an, sura 62 (Al-Jumua), āyāt 9-10

In Hadith, The Prophet said, “On every Friday the angels take their stand at every gate of the mosques to write the names of the people chronologically (i.e. according to the time of their arrival for the Friday prayer) and when the Imam sits (on the pulpit) they fold up their scrolls and get ready to listen to the sermon.”

Even the schools I studied in and the corporations I worked with, cherish Fridays, in some manner or other. In schools we were given a break from the same boring, dull, uniform and we could look shiny and dazzling. In corporations too, there is a fresh vibe and no dress code. So Friday is a fun day.

Lately, I have been writing a lot about overwhelming corporate corruption and I have criticized PM Modi and CM Yogi in a blatant manner. That has generated me a lot of love. Today morning an old friend from the old times, Rahul Panchal, left a love note on FB –

“You talk a lot of shit from your ugly and shitty mouth about a lot of people. You have lately started doing same about our PM Mr. Modi.

Do you do the same for your mother as well ?

Stop being a dickhead MOFO.
#WANNABEARTIST
#FAKELYF # FUCKYOURSELF”

I was extremely delighted to hear from him. We spent some good times together in the past. Some of you might think I am being sarcastic and there is no plausible reason for me to be happy after reading Rahul’s comment. Well that’s untrue. Among all the love he showered me with, he used a hashtag #fakelyf, that’s a campaign BrokenRadio ran two months ago on FB. It gives me immense pleasure to see that my work has not been forgotten. Thanks for bringing a smile on my face Rahul. And let’s catch up someday. Our political differences should not deter us from socializing. I always found you cool. And I like cool people.

When we talk about cool people, well, ignoring Jack sparrow would be a hate crime. Jack sparrow, the wisest sailor, is the coolest of em all. During the month of Ramadan, I promised my dear friend and author, Khadija Fatima – You Think You know, that I would write a great piece about Jack sparrow. (I oversold my writing in order to impress her, wink, wink, wink. No mortal can ever pen down the greatness of Jack in words.)  Her hair recently went salty and peppery, which I absolutely love and I also owe her Eidi, so, here it is, a small tribute to the great, Jack Sparrow. (oops, there got to be a captain somewhere). My bad folks, it has always been Capt. Jack Sparrow.

So, Ladies and Gentlemen, This Friday Morning, Broken Radio Theater presents the infamous, lovable, witty, daring,monster slayer, lord of the seas, robber of hearts, Capt Jack Sparrow  –

(Crowd cheers – Jackie, Jackie, Jackie. Women faint while shouting – Jackie, Jackie, Jackie. Jack enters on the stage)

Jack-Sparrow-cannibal-chase-Pirates-Caribbean

Me : Welcome to our humble adobe Captain!

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Jack Sparrow : Why is the Rum gone? (murmurs to himself) Where is that girl with those splendid locks, you spoke about.

Me : She crossed the sea Capt. She is in Dubai, the land of gold.

(Jack looks at Kate’s pic, stares, continues staring)

Me : What happened Capt?

JackSparrowProfile

Jack Sparrow : You need to find yourself a girl, mate. Or perhaps the reason you write three blogs a day is that you already found one, and are otherwise incapable of wooing said strumpet. You’re not a eunuch are you?

Me: Let’s not get personal Sir. We are here to talk about you not me.

Jack Sparrow: You seem somewhat familiar. Have I threatened you before?

Me: Not that I can remember, Captain.

Jack Sparrow: Do us a favor… I know it’s difficult for you… but please, stay here, and try not to do anything… stupid.

(Jack turns around and looks at the studio audiences and yells)

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Jack Sparrow: Shoot him and cut out his tongue, then shoot his tongue! And trim that scraggly beard! (finger pointing towards me) I have no sympathy for any of you feculent maggots and no more patience to pretend otherwise. Gentlemen, I wash my hands of this weirdness.

Me: But I am a fan.

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Jack Sparrow: Good man. Weigh anchor, all hands! Prepare to make sail!

[takes out compass]

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We going to sail to the land of gold. I need to meet this lovely lass they call Kate, the one who has splendid locks. You can come along but, Mate, if you choose to lock your heart away you’ll lose it for certain and Gentlemen, m’lady, you will always remember this as the day that you almost met Captain Jack Sparrow ! [escapes]

JackSparrow

(Curtain Falls)

 

 

 

 

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.

heath_ledger_batman_movies

“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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DEVDAS – The Immortal Lover

Devdas Mukherjee: Such vanity? Not even the Moon is as vain.

Parvati: How could it be? The Moon is scarred. I’m not.

Devdas Mukherjee: You are so silly!

Parvati: Mention not.

A very good afternoon to everyone. Eid is approaching. Eid is something which I have cherished, always. My name is Nishant. By birth, I am a Hindu. By my soul worships ART.

If you would pose me a question,

What’s your religion?

Organised religion is a slow poison. I am an artist.

I worship the One.

One who creates.

The one who destroys and the one who loves.

I was raised in a Muslim community. Somehow I feel more close to Eid than a colorful Holi or a sparkling Diwali. I am a logical person with access to reasoning. I always weigh my options. I just couldn’t deduce a downside to celebrating Eid. I love Biryani. I love sewaiiyan. I love the way everyone has a pretty glance, it’s hypnotizing. I enjoy hypnosis. The way, for a day, everyone is giving, loving, and nobody expects any thing in return.

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I dislike the fact that as a kid, people kicked me in the mud and threw eggs at me. I didn’t enjoy the way intoxicated men used to look at women, on the streets. I somehow felt they were predators waiting for an annual game of groping and raping.

The air smelled bad on the Diwali after morning. I had trouble breathing. So, I disliked Diwali.

Now, I enjoy all the festivals. Now I am a grown up. Grown ups know every festival spreads love. Kids don’t.

It’s Eid tomorrow. Aafreen messaged me. But she also said it’s ‘tentative’.

We all know, a corporation doesn’t control moon. So it all depends, when she wants us to enjoy the festival of love.

Love is a variety of different feelings, states, and attitudes that ranges from interpersonal affection (“I love my mother”) to pleasure (“I loved that meal”). It can refer to an emotion of a strong attraction and personal attachment. Love can also be a virtue representing human kindness, compassion, and affection—”the unselfish loyal and benevolent concern for the good of another”. It may also describe compassionate and affectionate actions towards other humans, one’s self or animals.

I enjoy the feeling of love. I am in love, all the time. I enjoy the feeling of love. Love can be toxic if you cannot handle it. Love also makes you selfish and mean. But the moment you start loving yourself, you start loving everyone, you are in an illusion. You are delusional, all the time. Love is a crazy state of mind. If you love everyone then you gotta be lunatic. A sane person cannot be in love all the time.

Let me just try naming few people, I love in 30 seconds. Isha, Khadija, Puja, Mommy, Papa, Mali, Insha, Arjun, Aditya, Shashank, Shruti, Manish, Nigar, Harshit, Ayush, Diksha, Kishu…etc. Okay, time’s up. If I get an hour, probably, you would get bored and click on the ‘X’ at the top right corner of your screen. I would not love that. So, I would refrain myself.

When you study love closely, you would realize, Love is destructive. Sati, jumped on her husband’s funeral pyre crying,

”I love you. I can not and will not imagine a life without you.”

She burned herself to death.

Love is intense. Love is passionate.

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Bukowski said,

“Find something you love and let it kill you”

The quote you saw at the top was before the Immortal lover – Devdas, experienced love. Here’s what happens after he does:

Devdas Mukherjee: Who the hell drinks to tolerate life! I drink so that I can sit here, so that I can see you, so that I can tolerate you.

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And then,

Devdas Mukherjee: I object!

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Then,

Devdas Mukherjee: Bapuji said leave the village, everybody said leave Paro, Paro said leave alcohol. Today, you said leave home. One day he’ll say, leave the world.

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Please view the video below. Please do not fall in love, if you fear for your life.

 

Eid Mubarak

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Spy who din’t LOVE ME : Putin, Vladimir Putin

Demoralize the enemy from within by surprise, terror, sabotage, assassination. This is the war of the future.

Adolf Hitler

Good Evening Planet, Tonight’s entertainment is the most powerful, enigmatic, billionaire, socialite, also,

President of The cyber states of United Mother Russia

Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin 

(Crowd Cheers, Putin! Putin! Putin!) 

A Spy who didn’t LOVE me

President Putin is a macho, take-charge superhero. He takes shit from nobody and he never forgets. Ask Miss Clinton, she’s still devastated from her loss. Mr Putin and Ms Clinton were lovers once upon a time but she broke his heart. She also bad mouthed him in public like a soulless, crooked, jilted, lover. For her own political gains, she used Lover Putin and then threw him away like lady slippers.

Super-Putin doesn’t like anyone badmouthing him. He gets angry. He’s worse than HULK, when he’s angry. He starts riding dangerous animals to channelize his anger.

Putin loved Hillary more than he loved his KGB job as a Spy. She too fancied him. They spent some great times together. He was a spy who loved her deeply.

But she broke his heart. She rejected him saying,

“You were a KGB agent. By definition you don’t have a soul. You are incapable of loving someone.”

She orchestrated her hate just to win a position in the filthiest place of human history.

A place even painters shy away from. The White House.

Putin is of artistic nature. He loves colors as much as he loves his women. Putin hated Hillary for breaking his heart. He got Insomniac. He lost his appetite. He decided to go again into the jungle, to channelize his aggression, by taming wild animals. But this time he met someone. Someone completely lunatic. Someone who not only helped him channelize his energy in a healthy manner and helped him get revenge over Hillary. But also made him :

President of The cyber states of United Mother Russia

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That remarkable person whom Putin met would be referred by historians in future as:

Bottom-Bitch Trump 

Here’s what Bottom-Bitch Trump says about Lover Putin:

“I would be willing to bet I would have great relationship with Putin. It’s all about love.”

 

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We would return soon after a short commercial break. Don’t go anywhere. Stay tuned in and subscribe to our blog, so that you do not miss such epic love stories.

Here’s what’s coming after break :

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Mysticism : Deciphering Sant Kabir

 

“Listen, my friend. He who loves understands.”

Before we begin talking about one of the original mystics, Kabir, let’s understand Mysticism.

Mysticism is popularly known as becoming one with God or the Absolute, but may refer to any kind of ecstasy or altered state of consciousness which is given a religious or spiritual meaning. It may also refer to the attainment of insight in ultimate or hidden truths, and to human transformation supported by various practices and experiences.

Derived from the Greek word μυω, meaning “to conceal”, mysticism referred to the biblical liturgical, spiritual, and contemplative dimensions of early and medieval Christianity. During the early modern period, the definition of mysticism grew to include a broad range of beliefs and ideologies related to “extraordinary experiences and states of mind”.

In modern times, “mysticism” has acquired a limited definition, with broad applications, as meaning the aim at the “union with the Absolute, the Infinite, or God”. This limited definition has been applied to a wide range of religious traditions and practices, valuing “mystical experience” as a key element of mysticism.

“The Lord is in me, the Lord is in you, as life is in every seed, put false pride away and seek the Lord within..”
― Kabir

Kabir was a 15th-century Indian mystic poet and saint, whose writings influenced Hinduism’s Bhakti movement and his verses are found in Sikhism’s scripture Adi Granth. His early life was in a Muslim family, but he was strongly influenced by his teacher, the Hindu bhakti leader Ramananda.

Kabir is known for being critical of both Hinduism and Islam, stating that the former was misguided by the Vedas and the latter by the Quran, and questioning their meaningless rites of initiation such as the sacred thread and circumcision respectively. During his lifetime, he was threatened by both Hindus and Muslims for his views. When he died, both Hindus and Muslims he had inspired claimed him as theirs.

“Listen to the secret sound, the real sound, which is inside you. The one no one talks of speaks the secret sound to himself, and he is the one who has made it all.”

Kabir suggested that True God is with the person who is on the path of righteousness, considered all creatures on earth as his own self, and who is passively detached from the affairs of the world. To know God, suggested Kabir, meditate with the mantra Rāma, Rāma.

Kabir’s legacy survives and continues through the Kabir panth (“Path of Kabir”), a religious community that recognizes him as its founder and is one of the Sant Mat sects. Its members are known as Kabir panthis.

Some scholars state that Kabir’s parents may have been recent converts to Islam, they and Kabir were likely unaware of Islamic orthodox tradition, and are likely to have been following the Nath (Shaiva Yogi) school of Hinduism. This view, while contested by other scholars, has been summarized by Charlotte Vaudeville as follows:

Circumcised or not, Kabir was officially a musalman, though it appears likely that some form of Nathism was his ancestral tradition. This alone would explain his relative ignorance of Islamic tenets, his remarkable acquaintance with Tantric-yoga practices and his lavish use of its esoteric jargon [in his poems]. He appears far more conversant with Nath-panthi basic attitudes and philosophy than with the Islamic orthodox tradition.

— Charlotte Vaudeville on Kabir (1974), 

Some commentators suggest Kabir’s philosophy to be a syncretic synthesis of Hinduism and Islam, but scholars widely state that this is false and a misunderstanding of Kabir. He adopted their terminology and concepts, but vigorously criticized them both. He questioned the need for any holy book, as stated in Kabir Granthavali as follows:

Reading book after book the whole world died,
and none ever became learned!

— Kabir Granthavali, XXXIII.3, Translated by Charlotte Vaudeville

Many scholars interpret Kabir’s philosophy to be questioning the need for religion, rather than attempting to propose either Hindu-Muslim unity or an independent synthesis of a new religious tradition. Kabir rejected the hypocrisy and misguided rituals evident in various religious practices of his day, including those in Islam and Hinduism.

Saints I’ve seen both ways.
Hindus and Muslims don’t want discipline, they want tasty food.
The Hindu keeps the eleventh-day fast, eating chestnuts and milk.
He curbs his grain but not his brain, and breaks his fast with meat.
The Turk [Muslim] prays daily, fasts once a year, and crows “God!, God!” like a cock.
What heaven is reserved for people who kill chickens in the dark?
Instead of kindness and compassion, they’ve cast out all desire.
One kills with a chop, one lets the blood drop, in both houses burns the same fire.
Turks and Hindus have one way, the guru’s made it clear.
Don’t say Ram, don’t say Khuda [Allah], so says Kabir.

— Kabir, Śabda 10, Translated by Linda Hess and Shukdeo Singh

In Bijak, Kabir mocks the practice of praying to avatars such as Buddha of Buddhism, by asserting “don’t call the master Buddha, he didn’t put down devils”. Kabir urged people to look within and consider all human beings as manifestation of God’s living forms:

If God be within the mosque, then to whom does this world belong?
If Ram be within the image which you find upon your pilgrimage,
then who is there to know what happens without?
Hari is in the East, Allah is in the West.
Look within your heart, for there you will find both Karim and Ram;
All the men and women of the world are His living forms.
Kabir is the child of Allah and of Ram: He is my Guru, He is my Pir.

— Kabir, III.2, Translated by Rabindranath Tagore

Charlotte Vaudeville states that the philosophy of Kabir and other sants of the Bhakti movement is the seeking of the Absolute. The notion of this Absolute is nirguna which, writes Vaudeville, is same as “the Upanishadic concept of the Brahman-Atman and the monistic Advaita interpretation of the Vedantic tradition, which denies any distinction between the soul [within a human being] and God, and urges man to recognize within himself his true divine nature”. Vaudeville notes that this philosophy of Kabir and other Bhakti sants is self-contradictory, because if God is within, then that would be a call to abolish all external bhakti. This inconsistency in Kabir’s teaching may have been differentiating “union with God” from the concept of “merging into God, or Oneness in all beings”. Alternatively, states Vaudeville, the saguna prema-bhakti (tender devotion) may have been prepositioned as the journey towards self-realization of the nirguna Brahman, a universality beyond monotheism.

Kabir has been criticised for his depiction of women. Nikky-Guninder Kaur Singh states, “Kabir’s opinion of women is contemptuous and derogatory”. Wendy Doniger concludes Kabir had a misogynist bias. For Kabir, states Schomer, woman is “Kali nagini (a black cobra), kunda naraka ka (the pit of hell), juthani jagata ki (the refuse of the world)”. According to Kabir, a woman prevents man’s spiritual progress.

Woman ruins everything when she comes near man;
Devotion, liberation, and divine knowledge no longer enter his soul.

— Kabir, Translated by Nikky-Guninder Kaur Singh

Singh states that this outlook of Kabir about women and their role in human quest for spirituality was not shared with Nanak who founded Sikhism. Surjit Singh Gandhi also agrees with this.

In contrast to Singh’s interpretation of Kabir’s gender views, Dass interprets Rag Asa section of Adi Granth as Kabir asking a young married woman to stop veiling her face, and not to adopt such social habits. Dass adds that Kabir’s poetry can be interpreted in two ways, one literally where the woman refers to human female, another allegorically where woman is symbolism for his own soul and Rama is the Lord-husband.

 

I guess the above stated material serves the need of hate propaganda for all the religions. So that’s why, Let’s go to Riot. Let’s take out axes and pitchforks and kill each other in the name of religion. I hope God would save you. You are essential. This entire planet thrives because of you and your closest advisor called GREED. Or let’s understand this quote and pray to the ALMIGHTY.

“बुरा जो देखण मैं चला, बुरा ना मिलया कोए
जो मन खोजा अपना, तो मुझसे बुरा ना कोए”

When I went looking for evil, I found it lurking inside, In my soul!

Translated by Nishant

Meera – The mystic lover Poetess

 

Don’t forget love;
it will bring all the madness you need
to unfurl yourself across the universe.

  • Mīrābāī, in ” Love Poems from God: Twelve Sacred Voices from the East and West

Perhaps the most remembered and quoted woman in India history is a sixteenth century poet, singer and saint called Mirabai, or Meera. Versions of her songs are sung today all over India, and she appears as a subject in films, books, dances, plays and paintings. Even Mahatma Gandhi promoted her, seeing Mira as a symbol of a woman who has the right to chose her own path, forsake a life of luxury, and in nonviolent resistance find liberation.

Mirabai belonged to the Rajput aristocracy. From an early age, she worshiped the image of Krishna. Her form of worship was influenced by a number of her male relatives who were devotees of a mystical form of Hinduism called Bhakti.

In the Bhakti tradition, one approached one’s god through pure love, without any restrictions of caste, color, or gender.

Many Bhakti followers gave up their worldly life and left their families to became wandering teachers or live together in like-minded communities. Their message usually was spread through deeply personal poems through which they conversed with their chosen God. Female devotees who aspired to live this life also had to give up their husbands and family. They had to live among people from a variety of castes, including those considered forbidden to them. In spite of what many felt were acts of subversive, some who overcame obstacles to follow their spiritual quests in time became respected and even revered.

In 1516 Mirabai was married to Prince Bhoj Raj of the Rajput kingdom of Mewar, the most powerful Rajput state in the early 16th century. It’s capital was Chittor. From the start Mira was a problem. She refused to worship her husband’s family’s goddess (devi), claiming that she already had offered herself to Lord Krishna and considered herself married to him. She refused the family’s gifts of silks and jewels. She insisting on associating with the community of bhaktas. And when her husband died after only three short years, Mirabai refused to join him on his funeral pyre, a practice at the time expected of high caste Rajput widows. Instead she claimed that now she was free to devote herself completely to the worship of Krishna.

Mira’s devotional practices became increasingly intense. She often sang and danced herself into ecstasies, even in public places like temples. News about her spread all over India and she soon attracted a following of devotees from all social groups and castes.

My Dark One has gone to an alien land.
He has left me behind, he’s never returned, he’s never sent me a single word.
So I’ve stripped off my ornaments, jewels and adornments, cut my hair from my head.
And put on holy garments, all on his account, seeking him in all four directions.
Mira: unless she meets the Dark One, her Lord, she doesn’t even want to live.

— Mira Bai, Translated by John Stratton Hawley

Mira lived in a time and place when the sexual virtue of women was fiercely guarded. Her husband’s family was shocked by her actions and finally locked her inside the house. In her songs Mira says that on two occasions they tried to kill her, but she was miraculously saved both times. At some point she left the palace and city of Chittor and returned to her birth family. They too disapproved of her actions. Sometime around 1527 she set off as a wanderer, traveling to places of pilgrimage associated with the life of Krishna. Her popularity grew. Before she even arrived at the site, people gathered singing her songs. Mirabai returned once briefly to her home, but in the face of further family harassment decided to leave the kingdom of Chittor for good. She passed her last days in Dwarka on the coast of the Arabian sea, the site believed to be that of Krishna’s youth.

Mira’s life resonates in the hearts of many in India today for many reasons. First there are her words, which with beauty and joy express a kind of female liberation. In them, her rejection and even disdain of the wealthy and their life of riches also appeals to the poor. Then there is her rebellion, which is seen as being against injustice within the family and within kinship groups in general.

While valuing women as mothers above all, India also reveres the self-expression of Mira, a childless woman who is identified as having rebelled against her husband and in-laws.

Love is something absolutely unselfish, that which has no thought beyond the glorification and adoration of the object upon which our affections are bestowed. It is a quality which bows down and worships and asks nothing in return. Merely to love is the sole request that true love has to ask. It is said of a Hindu saint (Mirabai) that when she was married, she said to her husband, the king, that she was already married.
To whom?” asked the king.
To God,” was the reply.

Swami Vivekananda in “Others on Mirabai”

Hare Rama Hare Krishna Krishna Krishna Hare Hare

Khadija the Great

“God Almighty never granted me anyone better in this life than her. She accepted me when people rejected me; she believed in me when people doubted me; she shared her wealth with me when people deprived me; and Allah granted me children only through her.”

Welcome back readers. Ramadan Kareem!

Today’s Iftar entertainment is the least talked about, yet the greatest of all times, Love story. It’s about a not so simple girl Khadījah al-Kubra who later on became the “Mother of the Believers” (Khadijah the Great) and attained the status of the most important female figures in Islam.

 Khadija was a daughter of a merchant. She was scholarly and inquisitive. Khadija married three times and had children from all her marriages. Her husbands met accidental demise. And Khadija was all by herself in a big, ugly, misogynist society. Khadija has also been referred in many texts as the “Wise One“. She was a highly driven and intelligent person, like our today’s corporate women.

Due to her eloquent personality and great business skills, Khadija became a very successful caravan merchant in no time.  It is said that when the Quraysh’s trade caravans gathered to embark upon their summer journey to Syria or winter journey to Yemen, Khadija’s caravan equalled the caravans of all other traders of the Quraysh put together. She was known by the by-names Ameerat-Quraysh (“Princess of Quraysh”), al-Tahira (“The Pure One”) and Khadija Al-Kubra (Khadija “the Great”). It is said that she fed and clothed the poor, assisted her relatives financially and provided marriage portions for poor relations. Khadija was said to have neither believed in nor worshipped idols.

Khadija did not travel with her trade caravans; she employed others to trade on her behalf for a commission. One day, Khadija needed an agent for a transaction in Syria. Khadija needed someone who could be trusted.

Muhammad who was 25 years old, due to his helping attitude was addressed as Al-Sadiq (“the Truthful”) and Al-Amin (“the Trustworthy” or “Honest”). Khadija hired Muhammad, offering to pay double her usual commission. 

She sent one of her servants, Maysarah, to assist him. Upon returning, Maysarah gave accounts of the honorable way that Muhammad had conducted his business, with the result that he brought back twice as much profit as Khadija had expected. Maysarah also relayed that on the return journey, Muhammad had stopped to rest under a tree. A passing monk, informed Maysarah that, “None but a prophet ever sat beneath this tree.”

Khadija became joyful because the same morning, she had a dream in which the sun descended from the sky into her courtyard, fully illuminating her home. She knew what her heart wanted now. Because of her social status many wealthy Quraysh men had already asked for her hand in marriage, but she had refused all of them. She had waited long for her knight in shining armor, and finally the wait was over.

But Khadija din’t know how to express her love. She used to engage in long conversations with Muhammad, on false pretext of work, hoping someday she would have the courage to say her feeling. But she never could. Somehow when Muhammad looked at her, time used to freeze. There are many texts which indicate that one day, Muhammad came to Khadija and looked into her eyes and they both stood silently, staring at each other blankly, till the nightfall. This captivating event was interrupted by, Khadija ‘s entrusted friend named Nafisa.

Nafisa was aware of Khadija’s feeling towards Muhammad. Nafisa suggested Muhammad to consider marrying. Muhammad was hesitant because he had no money to support a wife.

 But as they say,

“It might take a year. It might take a day. But, what’s meant to be will always find a way.”

Weeks later, love struck, Muhammad and Khadija consulted their respective uncles. The uncles agreed to the marriage, and Muhammad’s uncles accompanied him to make a formal proposal to Khadija. Khadija’s uncle accepted the proposal, and the marriage took place.

Muhammad and Khadija were married monogamously for twenty-five years. When Muhammad reported his first revelation from the Angel Gabriel, Khadija was the first person to convert to Islam.

After his experience in the cave of Hira, Muhammad returned home to Khadija in a state of terror, pleading for her to cover him with a blanket. After calming down, he described the encounter to Khadija, who comforted him with the words:

“Allah would surely protect him from any danger, and would never allow anyone to revile him as he was a man of peace and reconciliation and always extended the hand of friendship to all.”

According to some sources, it was Khadija’s cousin, Waraka ibn Nawfal, who confirmed Muhammad’s prophethood soon afterwards.

Muhammad and Khadija had six children. Khadija died in “Ramadan” of the year 10 after the Prophethood”, Muhammad later called this tenth year “the Year of Sorrow

So this was the greatest love story of all times – Khadija n Muhammad.

Love is not about how many days, months or years you’ve been together. Love is about how much you love each other everyday.

‘A’ishah, whom Muhammed married later, narrated of Muhammed and Khadijah in Sahih Bukhari:

“I did not feel jealous of any of the wives of the Prophet as much as I did of Khadijah though I did not see her, but the Prophet used to mention her very often, and when ever he slaughtered a sheep, he would cut its parts and send them to the women friends of Khadijah. When I sometimes said to him, “(You treat Khadijah in such a way) as if there is no woman on Earth except Khadijah,” he would say, “Khadijah was such-and-such, and from her I had children.”

 It is also narrated: The Messenger of Allah said: “The best of its women is Khadijah bint Khuwailid”

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Disclaimer : The image above represents a couple in love. It is not a sketch of Prophet and his wife. 

 

 

Caliphate ISIL : An absurd comedy of Errors – II

ISIL has as much to do with Islam as the Ku Klux Klan has to do with Christianity.

“Muslims are the primary victims of ISIL. Muslims are the ones who want to do the most to defeat this ideology. It’s important that we don’t do their propaganda for them, by giving them the legitimacy that they crave.”

Dalia Mogahed
American-Egyptian researcher

Broken Radio welcomes you all, to Episode 2 of your favorite TV Show

Caliphate ISIL : An absurd comedy of Errors.

Here’s Recap for you :

Prophet Muhammad is viewed as the final prophet of God in primary branches of Islam. The first caliphate, the Rashidun Caliphate, was established immediately after Muhammad’s death in 632, often referred by the term Dil Dil Caliphate. Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant declared itself a caliphate under Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi on 29 June 2014 and renamed itself as the “Islamic State“, always referred as The Evil Death Cult. Something must have gone terribly wrong in the world between the first and the last Caliphate. Lets find out.

ISIL has achieved a status which Bin Laden did not even dream of. Unlike Al Qaeda, which has generally been methodical about organizing and controlling its terror cells, the more opportunistic Islamic State is content to crowd-source its social media activity—and its violence—out to individuals with whom it has no concrete ties. And the organization does not make this happen in the shadows; it does so openly in the West’s most beloved precincts of the Internet, co-opting the digital services that have become woven into our daily lives. As a result, the Islamic State’s brand has permeated our cultural atmosphere to an outsize degree.

Laden was an old, runaway, who hid in caves and was hunted down by U.S Seals in our friendly neighbor Pakistan’s house. Laden used to take 7 months in order to finalize a video script. Laden had absolutely no online presence. Laden didn’t even have a credible FB Page. Isis on the other hand  is as much a media conglomerate as a fighting force.

ISIL originated as Jama’at al-Tawhid wal-Jihad in 1999, which pledged allegiance to Al-Qaeda and participated in the Iraqi insurgency following the 2003 invasion of Iraq by Western forces. The group proclaimed itself a worldwide caliphate and began referring to itself as Islamic State (الدولة الإسلامية ad-Dawlah al-Islāmiyah) or IS in June 2014. As a caliphate, it claims religious, political, and military authority over all Muslims worldwide. Its adoption of the name Islamic State and its idea of a caliphate have been widely criticised, with the United Nations, various governments, and mainstream Muslim groups rejecting its statehood.

In the year 2003, this happened in Iraq :

An invasion began on 20 March 2003, with the U.S., joined by the United Kingdom and several coalition allies, launching a “shock and awe” bombing campaign. Iraqi forces were quickly overwhelmed as U.S. forces swept through the country. The invasion led to the collapse of the Ba’athist government; President Hussein was captured during Operation Red Dawn in December of that same year and executed by a military court three years later. However, the power vacuum following Saddam’s demise and the mismanagement of the occupation led to widespread sectarian violence between Shias and Sunnis, as well as a lengthy insurgency against U.S. and coalition forces.

The Bush administration based its rationale for the war principally on the assertion that Iraq possessed weapons of mass destruction (WMDs) and that the Iraqi government posed an immediate threat to the United States and its coalition allies. Select U.S. officials accused Saddam of harboring and supporting Al-Qaeda, while others cited the desire to end a repressive dictatorship and bring democracy to the people of Iraq. After the invasion, no substantial evidence was found to verify the initial claims about WMDs. The rationale and misrepresentation of pre-war intelligence faced heavy criticism within the U.S. and internationally.

Here is what really happened. The international community, especially the U.S., always viewed Saddam as a bellicose tyrant who was a threat to the stability of the region. After the September 11 attacks, Vladimir Putin began to tell the United States that Iraq was preparing terrorist attacks against the United States.

President George W. Bush spoke of an “axis of evil” consisting of Iran, North Korea, and Iraq. Moreover, Bush announced that he would possibly take action to topple the Iraqi government, because of the threat of its weapons of mass destruction. Bush stated that

“The Iraqi regime has plotted to develop anthrax, and nerve gas, and nuclear weapons for over a decade … Iraq continues to flaunt its hostility toward America and to support terror.”

Clearly terror was the only talking point in this conversation.

Terror has a good market. Terror sells.

quote-terrorism-is-the-best-political-weapon-for-nothing-drives-people-harder-than-a-fear-adolf-hitler-59-65-98Hitler-12

After the said war was over, President Bush gave a Mission Accomplished Speech.

Bush’s speech noted:

We have difficult work to do in Iraq. We are bringing order to parts of that country that remain dangerous.

Our mission continues…The War on Terror continues, yet it is not endless. We do not know the day of final victory, but we have seen the turning of the tide.

The speech also said that:

Major combat operations in Iraq have ended. In the battle of Iraq, the United States and our allies have prevailed.quote-the-reason-we-start-a-war-is-to-fight-a-war-win-a-war-thereby-causing-no-more-war-george-w-bush-64-63-101-vEyDX9zQR46_zGZUqvKgTQ

This was the end of the so called WAR Against Terror.

Let’s catch up again tomorrow. Same time. And subscribe to the blog, leave comments too. Here’s a food for thought for you!

art-on-terror

@brokenradiocreatives @ishasingh10

Peace Love Rock n Roll

I was away in the mountains, for a while. When I came back, I had an engaging conversation with my mentor. We realized the importance of making a little money as we were behind on all our bills. It was a motivational conversation. I prepared myself. But then I became sick and ended up watching House of Cards and Homeland. I still got two episodes of Homeland remaining. But that’s beside the point.

I realized, ‘One never enjoys doing things they ain’t fond of.’ So here I am, writing. No longer do I feel sick, nor do I feel the need of watching a thriller.

Tough days always fall. Life’s a ride, there’s always this thrill for a small while, followed by a mundane, lousy, disciplined spin. But tough days do make you miss childhood. Life was simpler during those good old days. Most of us fancy kids. (Few of us hate too. But I won’t talk about them as I have been requested by my editor to stop the Neo-noir bullshit and do a little, toned down, commercial writing.)  We fancy pets too. Do you know why? Let me tell you. The one and only plausible explanation behind wishing a kid/pet are to be around someone whose emotional energy is overwhelmingly powerful.

Your wife is having an affair. Your Boss just fired you, just now, a few minutes ago. Radio says the prices would go up. The weather forecast is storm and war.

You come home to your kid/pet and yell, ‘I am fucked, dude. Totally fucked!’ The kid/pet stares at you calmly and asks –

‘My question to you is, are we going to play ball in the park or not?’

And there it is. All your worries go away for a second. Then you beat the pulp out of that kid/pet. Drink whiskey! And sleep like a baby.

There you go. It’s always good to have something like this around. I guess that would be it for this afternoon. May God bless you this Ramadan. May God bless you. He no longer blesses me but I surely pray for you. And Google is reviewing my website so no talks about sex till next weekend. I apologize. We changed our theme from –

Sex  Drugs  Rock n Roll

to

Sex  Green-Tea  Rock n Roll.

 

Let’s Call this Love!

I know. I sure do know. You guys are gonna start screaming that why am I talking about Love. I am well aware some of you have left your lovers because you believed in my saying that love is an illusion. I still stand by that statement.

But I too deserve to act stupid at times. We all get to have a little fun. Yes, In a longer run mostly everything turns to shit. And so does Love. Something which initially starts as a tiny funny feeling in your lower abdomen metamorphoses into a pain inducing tumor in your head towards the end days and then becomes cancerous and kills you. Then you slowly and gradually pick the broken pieces and then start looking for someone else to make you feel whole, for a little while, again. This basically sums up everyone’s love lives.

But let’s focus on the first few days. To clearly explain why love is so addictive, I am going to present to you my LSD trip notes. Love is as addictive as any other drug and has exactly the same effects. Here is love explained for all of you.

You start seeing colors. Your lover takes over your consciousness and you feel aware after a very long time. You no longer feel the need of being lonely. You start believing – Experiences are more enjoyable when shared! You experience a surreal time shift. It feels your world is slipping beneath your feet and is being replaced by a bright yellow light. The light of freedom, with a shade of captivity . You make paintings which capture how you feel because no amount of words can explain this divine phenomenon. And no fucking blog can tell you what it feels, when you on LOVE. Remember ‘ON LOVE’ not ‘IN’. It’s a fucking drug.  The colors dance and they talk too. 

That’s how the initial days feel like. And then –

‘DEATH – That’s what happens to every FUCKING BEAUTIFUL THING. IT FUCKING DIES. WE KILL IT’.

Didn’t the Ancient Mariner kill the poor naked Albatross?

Anyways, I am in the initial days so let me have fun. Atleast till EID! And guys a fact which you might not know cause you do not use all your senses, all the time – Women’s Vagina and a freshly made Painting smell alike. That’s it for this afternoon.

Delhi – The Rape Capital

It’s 07:45 am. It’s a beautiful Sunday morning in the capital town of India, New Delhi. New Delhi is the capital of India. India is a great country. Though it is a ‘bit’ overpopulated, where ‘bit’ is being used as an understatement inducing agent.  India is also a very just nation.

Because Delhi is world’s worst places and natives of this place are really evil, Indians decided not to outcast Delhi but reward it with the title – Capital. Being a capital city is a great responsibility. You need to make sure you are overpopulated and scarce of resources. This in turn would hike prices and people would work hard and earn less. The city would get costly and to an outsider would glitter ‘RICH’.

A Rich place is a good place. Lights should always stay on. You should never sleep. Delhi never sleeps. It works 24/7. In between naps it robs, kills, scams, whores and rapes too. Delhi likes raping. India enjoys rape. India makes rape a frequent activity. Indians believe every women has a secret desire to get raped. The world also shares a similar belief.

India rapes in Delhi, Noida, Gurgaon, Surat, U.P and before you tell me to stop stating that you know this and you choose to ignore because things like these are depressing. I would like to state the real fact. Yes every women has a desire to get raped. And that is not at all a secret. And as shocking as it would hit you, every man also has a desire to get raped. The entire human consciousness has a desire to get raped, wherein rape stands for losing control over self and let the universe run it’s own course. Rape means not to try and control anything because it’s a futile attempt. Rape doesn’t always mean a sexual crime, you depraved society! That would be it for today. Have a nice day.

Lucy – The Temptress

This occurred a few trillion years ago
Daddy was always an explorer
He wished to see new lands
He was in love too
Nothing sounds more beautiful than the ringing bell of starting a new family,
a new world
The world as we know it, is dying
Dad’s world wasn’t different either
His brothers had raped and plundered their mother.
She was a breathing corpse
Dad gave his dying mother a hug
Held hands and bid goodbye
Mama and Daddy got on the flying machine
And flew through million wormholes and saw a land so green
Never before their eyes had seen
I wasn’t born yet
But my consciousness was floating around
They met Lucy, Mom loved Lucy
Lucy smiled when she saw mom
Lucy danced, Lucy stole, Lucy made a garland
Mom: Lucy is like us. A little primal maybe. She wants to talk to me. I want to talk to her. Oh powerful one, Let’s gift her speech.
Let’s make her a little human.
Dad: There are some rules. Everyone wants to go around but nothing ever moves. It’s all static.
Lucy is a chimp. That’s what she’s supposed to be.
Mom cried, Mom wept
Mom slept, Alone
I cried, I came out from her womb
Dad: My fair maiden, Goddess of moon & stars, you gifted me a son.
I give thy, ‘Lucy the she-human’.
I saw Lucy. She was divine.
My mother was a river
Lucy was an ocean
She was untamed and fearless
Her youth only cared for passion
One day, naked she came in front of father and said, ‘ Father, mother is getting old.
I am ripe and I am bold.
Come, I am all yours.
I wanna worship you.
Crush my thighs.
Here, these bossoms
Come hold.
Father ran away in shame
He didn’t know, who to blame?
It was he who brought a chimp to life
Mother chased Lucy away
Mom and Dad died that day
They were around. Rotten were they.
18 Moon years later
While hunting for dinner
My eyes locked on a beauty divine
I hadn’t seen a female before
It was just mother and Babylon whore
She pounced on me as if I was a last meal.
Her lips touched mine
Ravage madness shook the forest
Thunderstorms came,
And it flooded Earth in no time
My parents came running
They shouted, ‘ Run away son. It’s Lucy.
They call her, ‘ Eve the temptress now’.
Dad died of shame, Mom of pain
I only cared about a naked flame
I wanted it to shine brightest
It wasn’t love. It was lust at it’s primest.
Lucy wanted a home.
I made Rome.
Lucy wanted diamonds
I killed some of my sons.
Lucy wanted violence
I made Hitler & Mussolini
Lucy never stopped wishing
I never stopped kissing
Her hairy white ass.
One day I grew old.
I no longer needed a hole
To warm myself
To feel whole
I am taking control
I have a new goal
Making a better world
I drove away Lucy.
But I have heard
Since centuries, she has been roaming the filthy streets of human settlements
Men beware of Lucy
Don’t buy her anything
She is just a pretty chimp
Don’t buy her anything.

It’s A Long Way To The Top If You Wanna’ Rock & Roll!

 

It’s a long way to the top if you wanna Rock&Roll!

 

What the fuck is wrong with you people? I am asking this assuming, some of you might know.

Don’t you have something better to do?

 

How about television? Common, don’t be shy. It is your favorite pastime.

Not today.

Did no one make plans with you? Go to some movie or a little shopping, a little clubbing maybe. No?

That bad. Hmmm.

You can play some games, they are pretty involving. You can listen to those stupid tracks saved in your phone, you call it music. Check your FB, maybe post a selfie on INSTA. These things matter.

Isn’t that right?

You can always color your hair. Try that new shampoo you bought after seeing that commercial. Groom yourself a little. Get those yellow stained teeth cleaned. You not going to look any younger or any better. But try.

You can always sleep. I am an insomniac since the age of 14: The day I first saw a pair of titties. A 40-year-old milf neighbor showed me the doors to heaven. You call it child sex abuse. At my time, it was called fun.  Haven’t had any sleep since that day. But you love sleeping. Don’t you?

If you are hell bent on reading this, I must warn you. Nothing would change. You would read this, appreciate, get enlightened. And then the very next evening, you would go and buy something more entertaining. Who reads books? You do not get laid by reading books. Be honest.

They call me Goat-boy. I am a musician. No, no!

They call me Goat-boy. I am an artist. Oh, shit, no!

My name is Goat-boy. I am a recovering sex addict. Fuck this shit!

Okay, so my name is Goat-boy. I am diagnosed with chronic Insomnia. I am also a recovering sex addict. I play guitar. Shit man!

My name is Jack. I am an artist. Maybe. Maybe not.

But I like calling myself one. I create music, at least try to. I am not too good at what I do but seeing the current logistics, who is? Is Trump a good president?

You only need to be good to do great things: To make money, mediocrity does the trick. Look at you, you make money and good is a very distant expression for you. You are shitty and clumsy but still, you make good money. Don’t you?

I never wanted to be a musician but an interesting mix of life events landed me the trade.

 I won’t admit that it was easy but yes it wasn’t so tough either. My doctor asked me to channelize my sexual energy into something more meaningful than watching porn and wanking. He suggested me to try writing, painting, dancing… I thought a lot. None of these people get laid, a lot.

Writers, they are fucking sex starved delusional.

Painters, they are fucking sex starved crazies.

Dancers, they got no energy left to fuck.

Rock stars, You know the glamour. You would get laid, why won’t you? You are a Rock- star!

So I thought to try my hands on creating some original rock music. Apart from playing music, I also enjoy burning shit.

“Burn It To The Ground”

I was listening to the Radio. Nickelback was playing. Music always pleases me. It makes the voices in my head go away. You should also listen to music. But just wanted to advise you that, “Char bottle Vodka, Kaam uska roz ka” (Four bottles of Rum, Bitch drinks every day…. Please show me how she pukes and shits d pain away.) is not music. These lyrics are not thoughtful. If you listen to this kind of music, I am sure your God would save you. The same God whose idols you purchase for $50 at your nearest place of religious communion – A shopping mall!

I focused on the lyrics.

Well it’s midnight, damn right, we’re wound up too tight
I’ve got a fist full of whiskey, the bottle just bit me
Oh
That shit makes me bat shit crazy
We’ve got no fear, no doubt, all in balls out

We’re going off tonight
To kick out every light
Take anything we want
Drink everything in sight
We’re going till the world stops turning
While we burn it to the ground tonight

Suddenly doctor “UD” came. So, our doctor, an unattractive male in his 40’s, never got married. He got laid the first time when he was 28 years old and got his first job. That too because the nurse had a bad breakup and wanted a rebound. A decent doctor worked for her.

Now, he always had an issue with nervous ticks.

For the STUPID: Nervous ticks, are involuntary muscle movements caused by stress and anxiety.

Doc: Goat-boy, You know why you here?

Me: Yes sir.

Doc: Then you also know that if you do not stop lighting fire to financial institutions, they would send you to a prison. They are only acting patient with you because of your fan following.

Me: No problem. I would light the prison on fire. Lighting fire is my passion. I like it.

Doc: No. It’s a medical condition. You are a delusional and an Arsonist. You need medical attention.

Me: Okay Sir. As you say. But did you ever think why I only burn Financial institutions?

UD: Tell me!

Me: Financial institutions make money. Money is historically an emergent market phenomenon establishing a commodity money, but nearly all contemporary money systems are based on fiat money.[4] Fiat money, like any check or note of debt, is without use value as a physical commodity. It derives its value by being declared by a government to be legal tender; that is, it must be accepted as a form of payment within the boundaries of the country, for “all debts, public and private”. (For the stupid – Money is just a piece of paper and it has no value because it has no great saying or quote written over it. It’s abso-fuckin-lutely of no value.)

UD: Got it. Now make sure you buy your prescription from the shop outside. And also book the next week’s visit by paying $250 advance. Get well soon, Goatboy. We love you! 😊

Let’s get naked and run through the Jungle!

Let’s get naked and run through the Jungle!

 

A thought just came to my mind. A minute ago. Let’s get naked and run through the Jungle. I know what you are thinking, “Aa gaya pagla phir se.” (Here comes the crazy again.) But then in my defense, I have all the facts with me. Please hear me out for two minutes. I won’t rob you off your wealth. Corporations and religions are for that purpose. I just need two minutes, please. And also, “Insanity is just a state of mind like sanity. Who knows who’s what? I certainly don’t (#mostdef)”

My question to you is, “Why not?” We are clothed and civilized because we are supposedly social beings. But are we? I don’t see many social things being done around. I just see few people making money and others buying the goods made and sold by them. Then I also see Television, (fuck Television – the kind you watch. I watch RT.com), which has a propaganda content airing 24/7*365. Everywhere they teach you how to buy things and how to make money to buy em. No one teaches you to achieve freedom and not to willingly submit to slavery. A wise man said –

Don’t let the ones that want to steal your dreams 
They’ll steal your dreams away 
Just laugh and let it go 

So you’ve tried to pass along your doubt 
Oh you need somebody’s ears to hear you shout 
All your wasted and days and twisted ways are up 
So now it’s time to see the cards you dealt 

Don’t let the ones that want to steal your dreams 
They’ll steal your dreams away 
Just laugh and let it go 

A wise one said. Not me. I am the crazy one. So, the point being made is, “What’s the point of a consumerist society?” Why fight for it’s thriving? Let it perish and rot away in oblivion. Let’s just orchestrate a Phoenix event. (In the historical record, the Phoenix could symbolize renewal in general as well as the sun, time, the Empiremetempsychosisconsecrationresurrection, life in the heavenly ParadiseChristMaryvirginity, the exceptional man, and certain aspects of Christian life”.[3]). We no longer need to buy things. All of us who want things to change and pave way for a better tomorrow, Let’s just sell our possessions. Buy a ton of books. Buy a backpack. Burn our identifications. Become no one. Because “It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything.”

“Let’s be a part of the great Rainbow Family. Let’s get naked and run through the Jungle!”

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Subscribe to my blog for propaganda content towards a movement against consumerism and PEACE.

Are you a chimp?

Are you a chimp?

 

Darwin told you, a long time ago that you were a chimp! You agreed, Didn’t you? But he made a small error. Yes, I said it. Loud and clear that Darwin made a mistake. Great men make mistakes too. That’s why Rome fell.

Darwin said you were a chimp. No motherfucker! You still are. Yes, you evolved physically but then that’s about it. You did not read books. You thought it’s too much of work. Let’s just look good and dress well, design an economy which resembles musical chair. Someone would always lose. It’s a musical chair. Those are the rules. And then you decided to fuck nature up and you enjoying, having fun. Just like chimps do. Break twigs, shit, puke, fuck, steal, at times hunt too. That’s your whole fucking story.

So, you still are a chimp! You were a chimp and you are a chimp.

I know some of you are laughing right now thinking I am joking but no I am not. I am damn serious. I am as serious as you were when you decided to nuke Hiroshima to make a point. A very small point. That you were a better chimp. Not so long ago you also decided to eliminate a breed of fellow individuals. One of the alpha male of your esteemed chimp community, ‘Sir great chimp – Hitler’, decided to kill Jews. You just stood there in shock and awe and I don’t know what as I wasn’t born then.

In my time another chimp, ‘Sir Donald fucking Trump chimp’ is doing the same. He wishes to kill every Muslim brother. That’s how chimps do it.

Now some of you are thinking what is my propaganda behind writing this. Am I a Muslim? Am I a naturalist? Do I have a PhD? How am I so confidently stating the but obvious truth. Well, for your chimp brain let’s just assume that I am Charlie Marvin, seventh great-grandson of Charles Darwin. And I also talk to the universe, because I am a human being, not a chimp! Unlike you.

So, please pay a very close attention to what I am saying. You are a fucking chimp! Okay! And you accidentally got the gift of language. You are not supposed to know the language. Because you use it to spread hate. You do not use it to spread love or peace. You should only communicate in sign language. Because you are a chimp and chimps are not supposed to talk.

And then came the shittiest moment in human history. You chimps got access to Inter fuck it Net. Holy Fuck! What’s gonna happen now? Every fucking chimp got smart devices. LMAO! LOL! Killing fucking language. (Smiley Emoji).  Because you don’t understand language. You are not supposed to talk.

And all of you who are thinking right now that you are a human being. Well, you are wrong too. You are also a chimp! Because you don’t understand, ‘Where there is will, there is a way’.  You don’t understand,”Honesty is the best policy“. You don’t understand,”Time and tide wait for none“. You don’t understand,”Find something you love and let it kill you”. You don’t understand,”Go all the way or don’t even start”. You don’t understand,”You are a piece of shit”. I don’t know why am I wasting my time talking to you. You won’t understand.”You are a chimp!“.

Please don’t buy a book. Go buy an I-Phone.

Charles Marvin seventh great-grandson of Charles Darwin.

Artist ¦Naturalist

The Revenge – A Short Story

In an era long gone by, there once was a small village near the ancient river valley of Sadånīrå. It was a small dwelling of not more than fifty families & was a part of a larger territory called Kavaasa, whose ruler was the fierce & just, Agastya. The valley led a peaceful, prosperous life & followed a strict moral code which was to be observed by the dwellers. The Sadånīrå tribals, in particular, were extremely conscious of their pure bloodline. So much so that, in order to preserve it’s purity, they preferred marriage alliances within the valley. The chastity of the ‘bloodline’ was something to be honored more than life itself for the Sadånīrå tribals because they held a firm belief that there’s was the ‘blessed’ bloodline. They were sinless & therefore, were the only true inheritors of the blessed paradise in the afterlife.

The Meccha family in the tribe was no different as far as this belief was concerned. All except the older son of the Meccha family, Yedu. Yedu was about 21 years old when he saw a girl lying unconcious on the banks of the river. He quickly ran towards the girl, no older than 16 or 17 perhaps & began to try & revive her. He pressed upon her chest heavily, as water gushed out of her mouth, running at the side before sliding quickly down her neck, as she continued her silent struggle for survival. A sense of panic would overcome Yedu upon every failed attempt but he kept at it, sometimes holding her by her chin & gently but firmly slapping it side to side. And when she finally woke up, the joy of seeing her alive was so overwhelming that Yedu took her into his embrace & weeped tears of relief. The girl cried too, as she looked at him like he was her saviour in more ways than one. But she couldn’t express any of her feelings because she couldn’t speak. Tears were all she had to express the emotions she felt. Upon realising this, Yedu felt that it was an indication from the highest dweller of paradise, that he must take her home under his care.

But under the moral code of the land, no follower of Agastya could dwell with a woman he was not related to. The penalty for such an abomination was death.But he couldn’t marry her either, because of the strict rule of preserving the holy bloodline of his tribe. Yedu was faced with a dilemma but he knew what to do, in order to marry the woman he loved. “I shall pledge to never bring our marriage to fruition. We shall remain child less in order to preserve the purity of the tribal blood line. Please O’ Father, O Lord of our house, grant me this favor & I shall forever be indebted to you. Your wish shall be my command from here on till I breathe my last”. The tribesmen saw no threat to their sacred blood after Yedu made this heartfelt plea & gave him the permission to marry the woman he loved on the condition that they would not bring forth children into the world. Yedu fulfilled the promise he had made to himself of never letting her away from his embrace. They lived a peaceful, happy life until…

The younger brother in the Meccha family, Anu, was extremely temperamental. His first response to even the slightest of provocation was usually a sharp blow to the provocateur. The worst affected by his fists of fury, was his own wife, Mithna. Since this was considered a domestic matter, something between the husband & wife, nobody warned Anu or interfered in the slightest as it was considered unpleasing in the eyes of the highest dweller of paradise to do so. On one such violent bout, Anu lost his temperament yet again only this time, the blow to Mithna’s head was a final one. A pool of blood quickly formed around her as she lay lifeless on the mud flooring of their dwelling. The father learnt of this soon enough & so did the elders of the tribe. They all knew Agastya would soon be aware of this too. It was a killing that had taken place. That too of a woman. The mighty King would never stand to tolerate such an act of brutality & cowardice of a man, as to lay his fist upon his own wife & that too to end her life. Anu would be killed. The Meccha father was devastated as he wept inconsolably. “My older son cannot, by law, father progeny & my younger would now be killed. Is this the end of my family name? How shall I seek a place in the paradise above? How shall I face my ancestors?” The elders of the tribe came up with a solution.

“Hand the mute daughter in law to Agastya. Let him know that she killed her brother in law’s wife out of jealousy as she had children & the mute one wasn’t sanctioned to.”

Yedu was devastated upon hearing this. He decided to tell his father that he would never let this happen & would tell Agastya the truth. “You remember your words a day before I let you marry this mute girl? This whore whose bloodline is a mystery to even the Gods?” Yedu remembered all too well “grant me this favor & shall forever be indebted to you. Your wish shall be my command from here on till I breathe my last”. Yedu had lost.

That night, as he went into his room, Yedu bowed down in front of his wife & told her what had transpired as she listened with utmost shock & disbelief. Tears were all that she could muster. Her only response to this cruel twist of events. To feel a storm of emotions & to not be able to express them, leaves one in a state of devastation. A point of no return. She did not even know what was more painful. The words that refused to slip out , the tears that wouldn’t stop flowing or the disbelief of her savior leaving her to the wolves. She knew what was most painful. She was aware. And she couldn’t keep it to herself any longer. She gently took her husband’s hand & placed it on her belly. The look in her eyes was that of a child pleading for his life. Yedu’s child.

A storm of emotions overcame Yedu as he stared at her with a vacant, distant expression. Not only would he lose his beloved wife, but also his child. Both killed. Mercilessly. For something they had not done. But was he not even supposed to have that child in the first place? But now there he was. Undeniably there. Now that he was growing inside his mother, would Agastya still want to kill them both? Even if he didn’t, the tribesmen would. The bloodline was to be preserved at any cost. Yedu had to think. But his mind stopped working. In a fit of emotion & a fierce determination to save his child at any cost, Yedu picked up his sickle & charged towards his brother. It was a quick blow to the neck. Yedu’s father woke up from the commotion only to find his younger son lying dead on the floor & Yedu soaked in his brother’s blood. “What have you done?” their father screamed in agony as he moved quickly across the hall to the next room where Yedu’s wife was. With his child. “Die you whore, die why don’t you. I shall kill you and end my misery myself you wretched…”  he could not complete his sentence. Yedu had yanked him dead with the same sickle.

By this time, someone was knocking at the door. “It is the King’s guard at your doorstep. Open the door as justice awaits you”. Yedu opened the door. He was a dead man walking. The guard froze in his heels as he witnessed the scene in horror. Blood everywhere. A dead body in the hallway where Yedu stood with the door ajar, his scared, shivering wife at the door of their room and a lifeless hand lying in a pool of blood behind her. “Who did this?” demanded the guard. “I did” said Yedu. “Come with me, the King awaits”. Yedu was dragged away by Agastya’s guards. His justice was instant. One blow to the neck with the same sickle he used to murder his father & brother. But first, his skin was to be torn with 10 lashes. Just to give him enough time to say his last prayer, in pain, & repent his crime, his sin. “Were you responsible for mudering your sister in law too?” It didn’t matter now for Yedu was to be killed nonetheless. He had killed two of his family, his own blood. It made no difference if he took the blame for a third as well. He could only be killed once. Only be punished once. But in all this, he looked for his wife who he had saved. Who was carrying his child in her womb. At least he would be safe. He, the unborn, who was really his blood. Yedu couldn’t speak as his mouth was gagged but he looked at his wife with a pleading look. A look seeking forgiveness for what he earlier was about to let happen to her & the reassurance that she would take care of his child. His blood. And she looked back at him. Tears flowing down her cheeks. Then she slowly wiped them off as a grin began to spread across her lips. She stared at him with the expression of a wolf who had trapped it’s prey. A sinister smile that spelt it all to Yedu right before the final lash stinged his skin. Then it all struck him like lightning, but it was too late, the sickle had struck his neck too. She may not found a life within her, but she did find her revenge.

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