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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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Nothing is Static

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She moved slowly, towards him
With a definite pace
He moved slowly, away from her
With a chaotic pace
They moved closer with a sway
They parted away with decay
Everything is falling apart
Nothing is static
It’s appalling

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Those smiles faded
Lame cries echoed
No one to cheer
Souls lack the ability to hear
Those painful cries wrapped in love
Shut down feelings
Everything is falling apart
Nothing is static

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She smiled for a last night
Tears rolled down those pale cheeks
Salty are her bleeding lips
Blood dried between open legs
Nothing is static
Everything is falling apart

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It’s appalling 
She would go to find a new home
Today! This day!
The end; She said⁠⁠⁠⁠


Pics credit: Felisha

Loneliness

I was looking out the window

The green pastures smelled of spring

The raindrops held the leaves firmly

While they slowly dropped dead on the ground

There was none around me

No one to make a sound

I hate noise; it breeds turmoil

But today I felt the need of someone, anyone to be around

A tear struggled hard before rolling down the corner of my left eye

That’s when I realized

I got no one to call mine

I picked a pen and a paper

But the ink got laden with salty water rain

The paper turned RED

I got no idea

How much I bled!

I got no idea

How much I bled!

I guess, A pint of blood would be an understatement

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Celestial Time Shift

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I prefer staying indoors

I cherish isolation

When I look out the window

I see the vibrant ugliness

When I close my eyes

I see you and my soul cries

The tears drown my dry eyeballs

I roam around in empty halls

Looking for traces of lost memories

You are what I found

When I burnt everything around

Down to the ground

I won’t step out

I won’t let the world destroy my cherished memories

That’s the only learning

You my only earning

You my immense wealth

My prized possession

A bundle of joy

Of the times we spent together

Staring into each other eyes

Saying things we never said

In mid of a celestial time shift

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Kashmir: A Heavenly Cemetery

It was the Persian poet Amir Khusru who referred to Kashmir as a paradise on earth. There is an old stone plaque in, Shalimar Gardens, which proclaims “Agar Firdaus bar rōy-e zamin ast, hamin ast-o hamin ast-o hamin ast,” meaning “If there is a paradise upon earth, it is here, it is here, it is here“.

It is also mentioned that when Jahangir was asked on his deathbed about his cherished desire he is credited to have said:

“Kashmir, the rest is worthless”

Well, reading such great poetic words:

Always I wondered

How could one term a piece of land heaven

It baffled me for ages

Why do poets write such praises

After all it’s just a land, few trees, few mountains

A valley blessed with decades of unrest

Lost peace as a concept

A land once white as snow

Now has traces of blood 

On every leaf which has the mettle to grow

A land trampled by army boots and assault rifles

A land filled with widows, staring out the windows

Bleeding for someone long gone

A land whose kids wish a life at dawn

Return home clad in white, powered by saffron

What’s so special about a ruined town?

Why is it a talk among the nations around?

Well, I never knew what ‘beautiful’ meant

Until I set foot on Kashmir’s heavenly ground

A land blessed by Allah himself

A heaven with gunfire in the background

A heaven with bleeding, dying children in a mound

Throats choked with tear gas and smoke

Unable to make any sound

A heaven destroyed brutally

By you and me collectively

Absence makes the heart grow Fonder

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Yesterday night, the moon and the stars shone bright

The galaxy was alive, while I held you tight

And you slipped, like sand through my fingers

The clocks on the walls became motionless

While I secretly stole, few stars from your hair, tucked behind your right ear

I know someone else owns them, but ain’t finders, keepers

You belong to someone else but I never wanted to keep things

For myself!

I do want you to dance with me

But you prefer dying alone

I wish I could leave you be

But every morning, you & me

Need to travel to save those dying stars

You might but I can’t do it alone

Whoever you choose to spin with, on the dance floor

Whoever you wrap your arms around

The song would always be made of my broken words

The music would always be mine

The less you see of me

The more you would miss me, staring at you

With blank, silent eyes, laden with unsaid speech

I wanted to lie next to you

But haunting you in your dreams, works just fine

What the world fails to understand

Is, whoever you choose to dance with

Lover, you belong to me, You are mine

You would always be mine

I certainly miss the kiss, which I could not dare to steal

But then again, there’s always tomorrow, there’s always a fucking tomorrow!

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The Green Plant & The Lady in Red

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Grab Classy Sequin Wall Canvas – Lady in Red  www.grabclassy.com

 It rained last night

The stars were dull

The moon was gloomy

Her eyes shone bright

She flew kites, all her last days and all those lovely nights

She felt free, roaming around 

With a bear trap, chained to her leg

rattling the ground, as she walked and trampled and moved

This morning, the green plant caught her gaze

She got confused, she got dazed

The earth around was barren

Though her last night was brazenly wet

She looked at the green plant

The plant looked back

Staring he saw, his lovely lady in red

the plant bled, the plant bled

And the land around, blossomed

The lady in red stood motionless

She couldn’t see; hear no sound

Her heart skipped few beats

All she heard was a pointless rhythmic beating of few punctured valves

Lub-Dub Lub-Dub Lub-Dub Lub-Dub Lub-Dub

The lady in red, went back to her bed; she had witnessed enough rain for the season

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

Good Morning Planet

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

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

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


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

Act II – Begins,

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

Curtains Rise!

(Crowd cheers. Loud Applause)

Understanding The Rise in Skies & the Fall on Earth

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

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

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

(Moves forward on the stage and addresses the audience)

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

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

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

Kate: Life was perfect!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Play Ends.


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

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

 

Good Evening Planet

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

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

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

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


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

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Act I – Begins,

Lift the curtains!

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

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

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

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

Kate: Ain’t you guys just too nice.

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

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

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

Kate: You are funny! (Sarcastically)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(looks at her and continues)

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

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

ACT I – Ends


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

The 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

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

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

— Morrison

I Could See The Smallest Things

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So I got my robe.

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

I started for the gate.

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

‘Evening Nancy’, Sam Lawton said.

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

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

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

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

‘Want to see something?’ he said.

‘I’ll come round’, I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Sam’, I said, ‘how’s everybody?’

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

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

I said, ‘Same as ever.’

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

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

‘Slimy things’, he said.

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

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

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

‘I’d better get back,’ I said.

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

I said, ‘Good night, Sam.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

Smokes & Strings – Boulevard of Broken Art

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Good Morning Planet. My name is Nik. I think, I live and I write. Among all three, I like writing more.

This story is about three artists. The first being – Me, of course. I have to be in the story. After all, the story is, where, I am! My father never watched TV. I am the inquisitive kind. I wanted to ask him, “Why didn’t you enjoy television, like the million others who indulge in the magnificent human insight, offered by the men and women inside that glowing tube?”

I wrote him a letter from prison. Well, calling  my place of captivity, prison, would be lying, technically, ideally. But glad we do not live in an ideal, technical, world. No one needs to play by the rules. There is always a workaround.

So the story is about Me, Aisha and Karen.

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Part I – The Escape

“Dear Father,

Hope you are doing great. I am having a good time, here, in this wonderful institution which takes care of my mental health. I intend to stay here, till the institution which oversees the lawful conduct of people, wishes, me, to. In the end, it’s never about love. Society is about fairness and law. Everyone is a just being. Love is a lost cause.

The things we do, in the name of love. So low..So low!

Now marriages don’t happen. Corporate mergers are the new holy union of souls.

Anyways, I often wonder, here, alone, in darkness, why do you hate television so much? We all have a need of drama in our lives. Where did you find yours?

Do write back. I would wait eagerly!

Your’s truly,

Son”

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Thousands of persons must have said the same thing to him since, but Aisha happened to be the first in the line. Anyone likes to hear flattering sentiments, and more than others, I suppose, artists. They like to be told every hour of the day how well they use their creativity.

Part II – Aisha

I reached the house at a run and rested a while in the lobby to regain my breath. I went in, brushing back my hair with my hand and composing my features. The door was open. As I entered, I heard her voice –

You are early! What took you so long?

She looked both sad and profound. I sat down on a stool near her.

“You are alone. I suppose, I should not stay long.”

She choose neither to acknowledge nor answer.

I looked at my watch. She had been away from him for nearly 8 hours. I was wasting time. Time was slipping through my fingers. If I were to make good, I should utilize this chance.

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“Every night you generally sit up and cry, do you?” I asked boldly.

“When we are alone and start talking, we argue and quarrel over everything. We don’t agree on most matters, and then he leaves me alone and comes back and we are all right, that’s all.”

“It’s unthinkable that anyone should find it possible to quarrel or argue with you. You look like a smile machine for poor, tortured, souls. You are such a divine creature, even colors cannot paint, your reflection.”

She asked sharply, “What do you mean?”

I explained myself plainly. I was prepared to ruin myself today if need be, but I was going to talk and tell her. If she wanted to kick me out, she could do it after listening to me. I spoke my mind. Somehow, whenever we speak, time froze. Time became as slow as a tree falling in the forest.

Aisha lives at the Vista Regency, which is nothing but brown bricks held together with sleaze, where all the mattresses are sealed inside slippery plastic covers, so many people go there to die. You sit on any bed the wrong way, and you and the sheets and blanket slide right to the floor.

“Why did you marry at all?” I asked recklessly.

She remained moody and said, “I don’t know. It just happened. I guess, LOVE.”

People always talk about love. Everyone does. Whenever I hear, “Love”, Raymond’s voice echoes in my head.
“and it ought to make us feel ashamed when we talk like we know what we’re talking about when we talk about love. All this, all of this love we’re talking about, it would just be a memory. Maybe not even a memory. Am I wrong? Am I way off base? Because I want you to set me straight if you think I’m wrong. I want to know. I mean, I don’t know anything, and I’m the first one to admit it.” 
― Raymond Carver, What We Talk About When We Talk About Love”

CALIFORNICATION (Season 3)

 

I see love as a cosmic event that changes the course of our lives. True selfless love, obviously, contrary to what is currently sold by popular media ; Where love is found online via matrimony websites on the virtues of income. That’s our institution of marriage. The Holy union of souls. She also has a piece of paper validating her love for him.
A piece of paper is what is needed for two people to stay in love. – Society
Things we do, in the name of Love, so low…so low!
I sighed deeply, overcome with the sadness of her life. I placed my hand on her shoulder and gently stroked it. “I am really very unhappy to think of you, such a gem lost to the world. In his place I would have made you a queen of the world.” She didn’t push away my hand. I let it travel and pushed my fingers through the locks of her hair.
Next day she visited my studio. She opened the – door, passed in, and hesitated, leaving the door half open. She stood looking at me for a moment, as on the first day.
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If you really unite with your soulmate, you are doomed! Because you both would sit and talk and that is it. Now love is sex, money and revenge. An eternal revenge inflicted by two partners on each other for the sheer reason; they were not supposed to be together. Else time would freeze and it’s just that moment. You don’t eat, you don’t sleep, you don’t wake up, you don’t breathe, You just look into each other eyes and float in the space. You experience Nirvana, a state even the most potent opioids fail to induce.
She went in the resident artist’s bedroom and closed the door. She came out after a short while. She had taken off all her ornaments. She didn’t have gold rings in her ears, no gold chain hung around her neck, her arms were empty, her alms were empty. Apart from the tiny piece of silk cloth, covering her modesty, she did not have anything that she ever called hers. I could see her naked image, that slender frame, it must have took, God, six days to create her. On the seventh day, he created the world. That explains her divine beauty and this filthy world.
I stood up, held her neck, as I gently pushed her towards the bed, out of the way, and stepped in and locked the door on the world.
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Things we do, in the name of Love, so low…so low!

 

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to be continued….as the show must go on….. Have a lovely day ahead!

 

 

 

Feeble Men – Brave Women

Feeble Men – Brave Women

 

Good Morning Planet

Recently, I have started inviting people to the Broken Radio Studios for brainstorming sessions. Broken Radio has always proudly proposed a different view of outlook towards most pressing issues. As a generalization, society is only aware of two prime base colors. Black and White. The masses are always surrounded by a clouded reality of right and wrong. The masses are extremely polarized. Either they would find an action right and endorse it or they would brand an action incorrect and shun it. Most of the intellectuals fail to acknowledge an important concept, which is also cherished by universe –

Right and Wrong was never the protocol of the day. There are actions followed by consequences. Beyond the shades of right and wrong there’s a shade, we call it grey. The entire universe clad in dazzling lights and shimmering darkness is one complemented shade of Grey.  

Now whenever Broken Radio comes up with a new conceptualized theory backed by strong reasoning, driven by a logical approach, rich with non-biased, true facts, we make sure that we introduce it to the select few and get approval after a thoughtful debate which doesn’t involve name calling and yelling. After the theory/concept is approved by our select panel of intellectuals, we then roll it out for the masses, undiluted.

Today we are going to talk about missing valor in men and overwhelming bravery in women.

A dear friend of mine and founder of Fight Club – Tyler Durden once said –

We’re a generation of men raised by women. I’m wondering if another woman is really the answer we need.

Tyler shared his views 18 years ago. We all agreed and gave him an overwhelming approval.

In the past 18 years, a lot has changed. Today Broken Radio would like to edit Tyler words to make it more suitable as per the modern times. We are positive Tyler would agree with us. We say –

We’re a generation of men constantly saved by women. We are saved by our mothers. We are shielded by our sisters. Our lovers help us dream. Our partners groom us to achieve. Our daughters love us and we hate ourselves. I’m wondering if we deserve any women.

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To further elaborate let’s observe this small social interaction –

Hamsa, is a country head of a reputed Financial institution based in one of the richest countries. Hussain is also employed by the same institution. Hamsa is an extremely talented, goal-oriented, confident, successful yet loving female. Everyone passively desire her. Some mask it as an admiration, others as love, few as lust too but in the end every man wants her. Hamsa is a kind-hearted woman and she wants to help people like every other decent human being. Hamsa is also an extremely confident person with no self-esteem issues. She toiled hard, fought corporate wars and emerged a winner.

But, (as we all know, there is always a but lurking around), like every other woman, Hamsa also has a need to love, to be loved, to talk, to be spoken to, to be heard. Karen is Hamsa’s best friend. Karen is a wonderful woman. I am in love with Karen and I know that I know her better than anyone else. Karen is a great listener. Karen loves Hamsa and tries to fulfil her every emotional need. That is what friends do. They take care of your emotional needs but in the end, Karen is a woman. She is not a man. We are technically wired to spend the most passionate moments of our lives with the opposite sex. (Homosexuals, you are another blog, another day, today just go away.)

Hussain is an attractive person. I highly doubt his sincerity towards his work but Hamsa always praises it. So, due to lack of proper evidence, let’s agree that Hussain is also hard-working. Let’s just add a fucking fake badge on his tainted uniform. Anyways Hamsa, due to lack of better, deserving men decides to go out on a dinner date with Hussain after he pesters her for multiple months.

Here’s what happens –

(Waiter approaches Hussain)

Waiter: May I get the order?

(Hussain directs the waiter towards Hamsa.)

Hamsa: I would take a meze, rich in white cheese and sliced melon. Please make sure that you do not use hot pepper paste. Stash the walnuts towards the sides and the yogurt should not be more than 6 hours old. Bring an Arak now and one followed after the meal. That would be it.

Waiter: Thanks ma’am.

(Waiter looks at the spineless guy.)

What would you like to order sir?

(Hussain is sweating like a pig. His legs are shaking badly. A tiny drop of his stinking sweat rolls down from his forehead, along his crooked nose, bounces on his twisted lower lip and drops into his glass of water. Hussain picks his glass of water and drinks it in one large sip.)

Hussain: I would take a Butter Naan with Afghani Chicken.

The waiter walks away.  

  It’s been three years since that night. Hamsa heard all his unbelievable stories. Hamsa believed in all of them. Yesterday, he told a rather believable story and Hamsa brushed it off in disbelief.

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Karen, love of my life, told me that Hussain confessed being married. Seems like Hussain had a memory issue. All the three years he exploited Hamsa’s innocence, tainted her soul, crushed her spirits, lied, cheated, he never remembered that he was married. Today he wishes to leave his job and go back to his wife. Hussain got some terrible memory issues.

Anyways, Sister Hamsa is devastated. My lover Karen is devastated. I know how wonderful and selfless women are, so, witnessing their pain, I am devastated.

Ideally our society doesn’t endorse views of revenge, hatred, aggression. Ironically, we are brave men who wage war on an annual basis. We indulge in hi-tech war equipment and very bravely use our chip powered drones and kill innocent people. That’s an extremely difficult act of bravery. Flying battery powered weapons is the new art of war.

People lost their bravery when Vikings vanished from the planet. The last recorded brave men were the Vikings. They went to wage war to go to Walhalla. They went to war, either to die or to kill. In both the cases an eternal fulfilling experience of soul. Now people find such thoughts crazy. What I find crazy is few snipers calling themselves patriots killing innocent people in the name of country and the country would then proudly honor them as great warriors. I guess that’s where Broken Radio and the world have an objective disagreement of philosophy.

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Now Hamsa is devastated and so is Karen. I am outraged. I do not like my sister and my lover upset because of a spineless, coward, lying, piece of shit. I either like someone or I hate them. If I have enough valid reasons to hate someone, that person often lands in knee-deep trouble. So, Hussain is done for this life.

There were days in the past, KGB agents used to call Moscow for help. Mostly Moscow would not help. Spies need to deal with their shit, on their own. Moscow would mostly say –

“Moscow is silent.

Today morning, I called Moscow. Moscow wasn’t silent. Moscow is outraged. Hussain needs to pay. Moscow wants justice for sister Hamsa. Few clicks on a laptop, in a cyber cell by a truth activist is what it takes to disable someone’s life permanently. I feel no sympathy for Hussain. Cowards have no place in a just world. Broken Radio is fighting for a just world. Few sacrifices are needed, few extreme examples need to be fed.

I just wanted to advise Sister Hamsa, (hope she won’t consider it meddling) –

Feeble Men cannot compliment Brave Women. Think before you choose your partner.

Have a wonderful day People. Keep on lying, cheating and whoring, after all it’s not an ideal world.

It’s just a blatant scam. A great con!

 

 

Eid al-Fitr 2017: The most stunning pictures from around the world

Eid al-Fitr is being celebrated today. A festival which is a celebration after a 30 day pious cleansing of the soul, that marks the end of Ramadan. We would be bringing you more news from Jama Masjid, New Delhi in the afternoon. Here’s few pictures to exhilarate you this fine morning :

A crescent moon rises close to an illuminated minaret of mosque in Amman December 16, 2001. Moslems ..SAUDI-RELIGION-ISLAM-RAMADAN-MECCAYoung-Muslim-praying-after-the-adultsPAKISTAN-RELIGION-ISLAM-EIDEid-Al-Adha-Celebration-Food-Imagesaudi-youth-dance-they-celebrate-eid-al-fitr-riyadh-2012image-20160705-814-8u1dd23164344097boyseidEid Greeting Wallpapers 2015

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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. 

 

 

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.

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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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

Lover, Leave Me Alone!

Lover, please leave me alone

Lover, please leave me alone

Let me die with my sightless eyes

Let me die with my punctured lungs

Let me die with my crushed hopes, dreams and my broken bones

You don’t wanna nourish me

You just wanna judge

Pretentious, ignorant female

I would never budge

I am, I was, I will be

Cause I am time

I am wealth

I am stars, the sun, the moon…Saturn too

Your thoughts can’t leap

They like Snails

They sweep, all the dirt

all the earth, since birth

You are destined to crawl and die

Everyone gets by, everyone gets by

Lover, please leave me alone

Lover, please leave me alone

Waiting In Love

“Why do you have to pull this ‘friend’ bullshit?

Why can’t you let your heart bleed

Walk up to her & tell her

that you’ve got the hots for her”

advised Nik.

“Dude! She’s Jasmine,

I’m an Aladin at heart too

But I got no magic carpet

I got no Abu

No fuckin’ genie works for me!”

“When she looks into the mirror

it tells her

YOU, YOU, It’s You whose the prettiest

When I do,

it cracks & yells,

“Go away you’re ugly as hell”

“But you’ve got other skills,

Your words not only hurt, 

at times they kill.

What about your sensitive heart 

which beats for even a selfish retard?

No one cares about packaging,

if such are the goods within”

I laughed & laughed till I cried

Nik, what century are you in?

You’ve stopped your therapy,

I request you to begin.

The world we live in

has no place for love.

It’s just nice clothes,

good looks, fancy cars,

& a hefty bank account

Did I miss Real Estate? Yeah! That too!

I got your point, Goatie!

But what makes you so sure?

that she’s one of those?

Did she ask for diamonds or just a yellow Rose?

Nik has a valid point

I don’t know for sure

what she wants.

Maybe, she’s the ‘other’ kind

but my mind disagrees.

“Let your heart ask her

whether she needs a hug or she wants to flee”

Hey Miss! I wanna’ be around you

What say thee, what say thee?

Let me know & it doesn’t need to be straight

any way, for you I’m always gonna’ wait.

The wind would stop, the rivers would dry

hell might rise, but hey Miss Wise,

some day, just, say

Me – I love you

You – Likewise…

When I’m Gone – The Checklist

Nobody lives forever,

Someday we’re all going to die.

And I want to sign out with a bang,

I don’t want to be that guy.

That guy who has a herd of people,

lined up to pay last respects.

I want to be that guy,

who wakes up mid mourning, to conduct some last minute checks.

Don’t worry, you’ll have a checklist handy,

to ensure that all goes well.

‘Cause if you miss out for some reason,

I shall haunt you from the depths of Hell!

So here’s my final checklist,

before I digress, 

I must confess,

This happens often.

I might be sunshine & sprinkles one moment,

The next it could be my coffin.

First things first, I want a well lit room,

where I lay in my deepest slumber.

For in my heart I’m a sunshine junkie,

’bout that I make no blunder.

My dress should be that of a bride,

’cause in life , I never got to wear one.

I got married twice, but not a single wedding,

so I’ll go fix that crap in heaven.

Next, I want everyone dressed,

in the brightest, most beautiful attire.

I want a live band to play “O Happy Day”

Along a singing choir.

There should be food of the scrumptious kind,

& wine the choicest best.

It would be great if the guest list spells “near & dear’

I don’t care about the rest.

I guess what my heart is trying to say,

is do not mourn my going away…

Bid me farewell on a happy note,

that’s my final wish.

‘Cause all my life I’ve dealt with sullen faces,

my final day, I shouldn’t have to deal with this!

HA HA HA I caught you bad,

don’t worry that last was a joke,

On an honest note I don’t want you sad,

‘Cause when you’re sad, you’re an inconsolable bloke.

And this time I won’t be there to cheer you up,

For I would have breathed my last.

So I hand you this checklist I made,

to spread the happy spell I cast!

Happy B’day Love…

 

Hey AFFY…

A very Happy b’day to you Miss…

I got no flowers but plz accept my nimble kiss..

I wanna place it on your lips.. but I guess someone else must have taken care of that

I guess I’d go to the park & kiss the bench where you once sat…

 

I still remember that first day, I saw you in the training room

My eyes shone and my heart did bloom…

Well, the blood inside it did dry..

When I saw you fly..

In the sky , holding hands with whom you chose…

While I numbed the pain with overdose.

 

All these years, you remained friends.

I was happy with your charity hugs while I cleansed the dirt from your window panes..

I guess our love is divine., I like to think so..

That’s the only plausible explanation, why the universe kept away my toe.. from your inside hoe…

 

You remember the way my heart paced when we hugged,

You thought I needed medical attention my love..

Well that’s the magic you induce, That’s why you’re MY muse.

 

Today I am shit broke.. Can’t buy you a gift,

Hope this poem hits you with a loving fist.

Love you Princess.. Happy b’day..

Deluded Nik…

Earthly Divinity

Hey reader, good to see you, all geared up with your reading glasses, but i think it’s my moral responsibility to make you aware about the risks of reading this blog.
This is meant for the crazies, so if you are one, please continue but if you think you are a normal person then i just have two words for you and they both involve sex and travel..”FUCK OFF”. Normal is boring dude and it would be lot more healthy for you to quit reading at this moment.
You know, all these years you read ‘Ignorance is bliss’ , but you never actually made sense out of it. Right now, you are in a mental state in which you don’t actually have to think much, you have rules laid out for you, every decision  that you have to make you have a rule book , you could refer to.  But if you continue reading, you would realize how hollow you have been from within and all you have done so far is follow rules which are just projections of a delusional.
And all my crazy friends, who have been able to break the mental barrier and are truly inquisitive , i welcome you all.
It’s a fine morning. I came back to this four walled room, which has been my temporary resident for quite some time. When i was at work, few hours ago, i received a call from my neighbour and she sounded very fucked up. She is going through a bad break-up and was asking for weed, so that she doesn’t have to cry herself to sleep like every other day. Well, i would have loved to help her. We have become really close friends in the past few months. She is a single mother and is dating an ass-hole who doesn’t loves or respects her. She is broken most of the times and seems like am the only support system she has. But the worst part is i didn’t have any extra weed left with me.
I have weed but only limited quantity and all my stoner friends out there , you guys understand how important it is to make sure that you never run out and any which ways her reason for asking was not so justified. The one and only reason i advocate drugs is when you want to expand your mind. If you are a stuck-up and you pray each day, dude get high. If you are going to get married and you are expecting your wife to be a virgin, please get stoned. If you think you are special, it’s high time, please try LSD. But if you are fucked up emotionally, grow a pair of balls. No one likes a crying person. People sympathize with you for few days but in reality no one gives a fuck towards anybody’s else’s misery. You are alone, and the day you realize it, that’s when your life begins.

I went to see her, and listened to her, obviously not everything, She was playing Jim Morrison songs, even if i wanted to listen to her, i couldn’t. All i could focus on was, ‘Break on through the other side’.  But the best part is, her story doesn’t change much ever. So i somehow knew what she was talking about. She talked about her husband and how divorce is taking a toll on her and how this other guy mistreats her always and never respects and loves her. She also told that this jerk doesn’t even say i love you, when they make out. When i asked, why is she still hungover on him, if he doesn’t love her?, well she didn’t have  much to say. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she started crying. Trust me people, there is nothing more painful in life than seeing a woman cry. I tried to console her, but it didn’t help much. So i did what am good at, rolled a joint for her and she smoked it in peace. She was getting late for work, she hugged me and then came the most awesome moment. She freaked out saying that she didn’t get time to worship today and she quickly got on her knees, prayed to multiple gods for at least five minutes and then left for work.
I came to my room and i felt like committing genocide. How could someone be so stupid to worship idols. The one and only reason, the concept of religion was introduced, was to handle primitive brains. There was a time, when civilization was at it’s beginning and human brain was not evolved enough to make decisions. Humans didn’t have enough reasoning to distinguish between right and wrong.  People had basic questions, like why does it rain? Why is a ball of fire in sky and where the fuck does it go at night? There were no medicines, no science. Everyone was either a hunter or a gatherer. It was very difficult to control people whose minds were not developed fully to understand any phenomena. So someone with a superior mind came up with a brilliant idea to introduce religion. The entire concept of religion is based on making people fear. Fear is a great quality, it definitely helps you in taking relevant decisions but you cant be shit scared all the time. Something which was created to stop you from being crazy is now the only reason which is making this world go mad. People kill each other for religion, how stupid can someone be? There are countries which have been destroyed and the only reason is they have different religious beliefs. We need to understand that there are only two things which matter in universe, ART and Science and religion is neither of them. All religions are meant to control you and till the time we don’t free ourselves from the shackles of this evil, we can’t be free. So my friends, visit me next time, once you have disowned GOD cause he doesn’t exist and if you think i’m wrong, i would strongly suggest you, to start smoking up so that your brain realises the truth. Remember, subconscious knows whats true and what isn’t , just wake it up once and you might be able to unplug yourself from THE MATRIX.
For all others ‘If you do good to expect a divine reward then you not only need a psychiatric but also some prescribed drugs’. Get on it..

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.

Alpha Male

I met her, when I shouldn’t have.

Was still in the journey of finding self.

She charged like a hungry tigress.

Said, ‘Spank me hard, make me a mess.’

I was shocked, for me women are goddess.

My mother, sister and all others of the fairer sex.

But she wanted to be fucked with primal rawness.

Her Bio said, Feminist.

But she just wanted to be treated as SHIT!

After the shouts, screams and orgasms… I tried to cuddle.

But she pushed me hard and said not to expect a love bubble,

As she’s a feminist.

Shocked, I wandered. Few weeks later,

She said, ‘I am in love with someone better.’

He’s an Alpha Male and knows his thrusts.

Gives me love and slaps my breasts.

I said, ‘Miss Feminist, What’s this shit?

You want respect but you fuck with hate.’

She slapped, On my face, reality got mapped.

She went away, leaving me in disarray.

Nik said, ‘It’s okay. I need it for my ART!’

Starving For…

Starving for?

I gotta buy a little dope,

A little soap, wrapped in hope.

Hunger pangs, they got no fangs.

Can’t suck blood!

Gotta eat, gotta eat, gotta eat, gotta eat, gotta eat.

Rent Monster’s here,

Driving me into paranoia.

Pushing me into fear,

My thoughts unclear.

I wonder.. Why such despair?

Why did I quit a paying fucking corporate affair?

Thought a lot, did bend a knee, had an epiphany.

 

Nik said, ‘It was all to find love, Masked behind a fair idea.

Creating ART is a pretext,

Don’t you wanna’ have all those females,

Who made you feel messed?

Nik, you just wanna take ’em to bed.

 

I requested for a week’s time.

The monster’s fire did lose it’s shine.

 

I turned around, and on the ground,

There she was my favourite female!

She shouted, ‘ Write something you loser, Good for nothing poser.

Wannabe, wanna see more, Go create something pure.

It’s all in the name of ART.’

Nik wrote a poem and said,

‘ This is a fucking mask, All you really wanna do is pour your drink in her silver flask.’

 

She read the poem and dropped the curtains…

And my eyes shone, my eyes shone.

Nik left the room, I was with her all alone.

Can I please hug you angel? In the name of love!

Nik was still shouting from somewhere,

She’s gonna destroy you emotionally, but it’s cool..

Isn’t it all in the name of ART?

“Tell Me You Love Me”

Tell me you love me, that’s it

Tell me you love me , that’s it

she said, she said.

Why wouldn’t I, I thought so,

I could see a hint of cleavage

and I knew she got more to show.

I need to know more about you,

How old did you said you were?

Nineteen is legal, I thought.

Put on my flying machine, and then the wind blew

I flew,

Through her window – I threw – My big bag of lust

While I unstrapped the goods,

I made her understand

Why and how Love should be Banned !

She was worshiping my cock,

I smoked, I coughed, I smoked, I coughed.

I Love You, I said

Ain’t you late for your flight?

I am done, lock the door from behind.

In taxi, on the way to Airport,

I called her and said…..

Did we just destroy each other in the name of ART?

Was this all for the love of ART.

Tell me you love me, That’s It!

Tell me you love me, That’s it!

I said, I said.

She disconnected.

Let’s destroy each other emotionally again… It’s all in the name of ART!

Darkness

Engulfed in darkness
She blossomed.
A tiny divine ray
Still managed to crawl
Through the crack
In the roof.
Wearing her down
Accustomed to Pitch Dark,
She pitied her demons bark.
But now she didn’t know
Who is a friend and who is a foe.
Light reels d real darkness.
Floating lies her fukin mess.
She who had found herself
In that black abyss,
She found herself lost
In the light.
I looked into her deep eyes
I saw the stoned cries.
The pleasure was there
Boiling beneath the fear. There it was,
the bursting orgasmic pain.

Trapped !

So I met someone, and they were nice.

That’s like rare for me….. and does entice.

I bloomed with affection and grew happy and grew happy.

And then, not so long ago in past,

Everyone took out their spears and yelled – ‘CAST’.

Wounded I fell… and landed on a Pen!

These are the last words, I could pen.

Thanks for the tragedy…I needed it for my ART!

It’s all for the love of ART……

Let’s destroy each other emotionally…

and it’s all for the love of ART!

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