The Rocker

There are guitars playing in the background, only intermittently though, but each chord hits me, like a wave strikes against a rock by the sea somewhere in wilderness. I close my eyes, paste my lips together inwards, swallow a spoon of saliva, gush out a puff of exhaled air and try to find my vision. The drums join in on a low bass scale, like the beatles used to start their songs more than often, I feel the beats and the intermittent strings of guitars producing the most beautiful disturbances. I try to pull my eyes wide open for I feel they are shrinking. At the back of my mind, I remember my hatred for chinese eyes. I tell myself its only an illusion. I close my eyes again. No, I don't close them, it happens I don't even realize. I take a back roll. The music has not fed away, its more in the fore ground now! I take a pinch of mexican panda(google it!). It looks gorgeous peeking from inside of that beautiful invention we call "plastic". Wrapped in it and coiled with a golden string the package looks beautiful. No wonder, racism came into foray, only because we love the charisma of white so much. I try to find the spoon. I can't see where it is! And out of nowhere I see it there, thrown on the table by the side of the sofa. There is a dirty table cloth on the table which was white when it began its life as a table cloth. Now, it looks pale. I wonder how things change. I wonder again. Do they really change or just appear to be changing. The drums get on a high again. I can feel the vibes inside my head. The vein on the temple twitches a bit. I get worried. I take the spoon. Its an old stained spoon. I twist it by almost a 90 degrees. It looks like a face twisted in a wry! I try to see myself in the spoon. I look twisted too. With a finesse of the experts, I transfer a pinch of the panda on to it. My eyes glitter with the expected rush! I fanatically look into my pockets. I don't find anything. I go for the pants, I get it. I take it out. Its hard, its old, its rusty but it still works. I don't try any fancy stuff with it I saw in enlish movies. I uncap it and in a jiffy I use my thumb to give it real jerk, trying to bring in rotation, overcoming friction. Old stuff has lot of internal friction. But it works, I see the flame. I smile at my Zippo! It really is a piece of its kind. The flame sustains. Panda turns liquid. I see bubbles trying hard to come to surface. I want them to. But I wait with the patience of a crane. I can feel the spoon now. Its as hot as it can get! I change hands and rub my fore finger and thumb. I feel better. I know it won't matter in sometime but still I do the rubbing. I look for something else now. I place the spoon in some place. It doesn't spill the panda at all. I look for the bag I kept in some obscure corner of the room. I do find it at the first glance I throw at the heap of stuff piled up. Piling up is not what you want when you look for things but I manage somehow. I smile at my luck. I begin to unzip. I go slow. I go as slow as one can imagine, like those ultra slow motion cameras show; just like that. I unfold the two wings of the bag. I see inside with the curiosity of a child. My eyes spark at the mere look of it. I see the sisters sitting pretty in their cradles, unmoved, unrocked, silent, still and yet vibrant. I feel it. The aura is definitely building around me now. I take the straps out and let them loose. They look old and jaded. it's an old rendezvous, like a deja vu! Not exactly a deja vu but quite similar. I hold them in my hands, one for each hand. I maintain the balance equitably. I sometimes love the choice and context of my words! I bring the sisters together. They look so impotent in isolation. I can hardly handle the glee. I fix them together and make them one. My weapon is ready. The preparation part is always better than the execution but not in this case. I hope so, hope drives the world! I go for tha panda again. Hoping it has cooled down but not enough, left with the warmth required. I need some heat in my body. I just realize I am sweating from the side of my back. A drop forms a torrent and flows down right till where I'm wearing my pants. I can feel the exact trajectory of the torrent. I imagine what form would it have made. I get reminded of my Co-ordinate geometry classes but I pull myself out of there. I think of a name for my weapon. I decide upon sister-joint! I particularly love the word "joint". I dip the tip or toe whatever it is in the small little potentially deep enough panda pool. I suck it..........up! With a slight push I jerk out a couple of droplets out of the invisible nozzle. I stroke the sister-joint's body, just hard enough to get away with the bubbles jailed inside. I give them freedom and bask in the moment of glory. I know I'm getting restless now. I cup my upper lip with the lower one and wipe the sweat in. It has a strange taste. I hold the sister-joint carefully and in the same vein I look for a vein in my hand, the left one to be precise. I tap my hand hard to bring it up. I see the blue streak. I wonder how blood carrier can look not red but I don't waste my analytical skills there so much. I am nervous. This is not my first time I know but after quite long a break. I swallow a gulp of saliva. I wet my lips again. I feel better. I go for the target, I pierce with success and pinch. Probably, it's more like a prick. Soon I would not be able to mark the difference I know. I drag the piston by a bit. I see the red slowly diffusing inside the colourlessness of the panda. The sister-joint looks indifferently. She doesn't know what is going inside her. I know. The guitars and the drums pick up. I can hear them coming closer. Looks like a total crescendo is about to arrive. I push it all inside. My eyes go red. I sniff out in ecstasy. The eyelids take control by losing theirs. The eyeballs surrender to the might of the neurons. Darkness comes with colours mixed in it. Vision fades away slowly and comes back like a flash but fades away again. I smile, I sweat, I feel hot but I love it all the way. The drums get heavy inside me. the acoustic guitars join in now. I'm still but rocking hard. I thread my fingers in my skull through my hair. I wear a fancy hair style. Wind gushes inside. The mix of hot and cold is awesome like hot chocolate syrup on top of a vanilla scoop. I see spirals, I do see them. The sisters a....r..............e. I



................< th e r si a thin g a.bou...t it..........I wanna...........fadeeeeeeeeee a w?ay.....CAN I?

Save the hypocrisy

Like everyone even I was waiting for the verdict on Ayodhya to be out, not because it was my father's land under the scanner but more because the entire issue was over built and it was treated as if it was about to bring a hurricane or a tornado in the country. I don't know what to make out of the decision but at least the bench made sure everyone had something on their plates and the grievances whatsoever were limited in nature. Although one of the parties is apparently not entirely satisfied with the verdict, it failed to stir the country in the way it was feared it would! However, my concern actually started as I was browsing through the social networking sites. Almost every Tom, Dick and Harry had an update which showed concern for our poor country which happens to be an example of prime secularism, at least on paper! My counter to all the gentlemen and women who were praying under their breath all the time to avoid any sort of arousal in the country post the decision and vented out their emotions either by tweeting or updating, is "go to hell". This country has survived thousands of years before any of you or your forefathers were born. And you better keep your tongue coiled inside your teeth because I may just rip it apart. There are feelings of anticipation which are created by a few big men who run this country, unfortunately and you guys use your powers of democracy on the bloody internet as and when you tweet. What a bloody waste of energy and time, both of which you have in plenty. Rather ironically, unlike the net savvy, new, learned and aware class of India, which doesn't even caste votes during elections, the people around the epicentre of the entire episode still have no one to express their opinions. Ayodhya is not a city of disputed land and it expects a different identity from us. But we are unwilling to move from where we were entrenched 18 years ago. You people have opinions to express sitting inside your homes and not going out and talk and walk because you fear a stone might be coming your way or worst case you might just find a bullet in between of your eyes! Show your bold opinions somewhere else where probably you find more people like you who can only discuss issues sitting inside a studio telecasted live on a national news channel. When I read those prayers you make on the internet, I know more than concerned you are scared. Thousands of miles away from that place which hit you hard today, you are scared to get out of your safety because you don't trust the system around you. Does one verdict of land distribution bring to Ayodhya what should be brought to it which could have been developed rather than leaving it aside in the most archaic form. Probably when you searched on internet you got that (in)famous picture of the mob on the tomb. Ayodhya is much more than what you ever encapsulated. Its a place where normal people live, who are scared about their lives, their families, apprehensive about their being and worried about their present and future both. Try finding those pictures, you won't get many. Satellites can locate the erstwhile "disputed land" but not the crushed hopes! A place is not about a piece of land, its about the people who live there. If you guys find time and guts to go down to Ayodhya, do it and see how different is it from the other places. And please stop cribbing about the system, you are a bloody wasted nut of the same machine you say is inefficient. So pull up if you have anything to hold on to in the first place! And yeah, those people who are giving their expert opinions on how the judgement could have better or how it held the country together, why don't you guys watch my hand wave and choose the appropriate finger yourself. Shove your fake, superficial knowledge of Indian judiciary up some place you find the most apt but please spare us the horror! We know you guys are well read and really care for the nation. You might well be running an NGO also which does social work. Start working on yourself and leave those people in peace. The water is still, don't stir it like a cocktail. And for all the naked show of your hearty emotions and analysis, I have a line-"Only the wearer knows where it pinches." I pray you never have to wear those shoes!