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!

 

 

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! 😊

The Revenge – A Short Story

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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