The doors. Jim Morrison, a guy with an artistic bent of mind and an IQ of 157. And prone to addiction, like most bright young minds.

“Forget the night.
Live with us in forests of azure.
Out here on the perimeter there are no stars
Out here we is stoned – immaculate.

Listen to this, and I’ll tell you ’bout the heartache
I’ll tell you ’bout the heartache and the loss of God
I’ll tell you ’bout the hopeless night
The meager food for souls forgot
I’ll tell you ’bout the maiden with raw iron soul

I’ll tell you this
No eternal reward will forgive us now for wasting the dawn

With the advantage of hindsight aiding my feeble mind, I have concluded without much rumination that everything I have done so far is a wash, zilch, shunya,sifar.

I wonder if it could have been any different. If you are realistic and honest , or even realistically honest, your life can only be a few percentages greater than 0, which means it would still be zero. We start incrementally, starting from naught, reaching towards naught and forever being naught. Half our life is spent justifying our existence, the other half justifying it wasnt a mistake. If you knew what I know, you wouldnt disagree.

On the other hand, if I decide to overlook whats gone, of whats done and over with me, you know, history and stuff -The Past, there is a lot to be done. I finally have a vision, a train of thought that rises beyond Stones and Immaculation. Heck, who am I kidding…. I am as clueless as I was born!!

Lets get serious now, what meaning can I give to my life? Because from what I have seen, its not me who has been defining any part of my life, its the life forms around me. Something I didnt even care about, organisms who probably dont exist in my universe. Yet, they, the evil folks who hold the key to my life, we all playfully ignorant of the fact, carry on in their own universe. They are ugly blobs of a highly magnified single cell, they are the generation of super-evolved creatures who designed the inferior genetic structure of the animated life forms residing the earth. Ladies and Gentlemen, if you ever felt there was a God, or there was someone controlling your life: Or ever felt like some one was watching you… while you are jerking off in the office toilet or staring at the Office Slut’s wonderful ass: You arent paranoid. The mitosians have been watching you.

It was revealed to me when I was SI out of my frigging skull. I lay down beside the gas cylinder in the kitchen, too zonked to get up and find my bed in my bedroom across the hall. I lay there, with a cockroach or two driving their scaly legs all over my semi nude body. I shivered and coughed, I had no clue how drunk or stoned I was. Finally, I saw light. The power supply had been restored.

I stared blankly at the 100 W bulb, wondering whether it was a Bajaj or an ECE or a Philips or something else named equally stupid. I was dazed by the light, there had been no power for 3 days and I enjoyed the weekend in the dark cooped at home boozing and doping. It was wonderful.

I kept staring at the stupid light bulb and brought myself to my feet. My eyes, though, were staring deep into the sun of a light bulb. I was confused. The sun seemed smaller, or the lightbulb too huge. It was wobbling, an SHM of such small frequency you had to keep watching it to notice a difference. I felt nauseous and dizzy, but I had to ensure this lightbulb didnt jump out of its holder and attack me. It was alive. It had energy, mass and now it could even move. My seconds were numbered.

The bulb could move, I could hardly stand. I thought for a microsecond, and figured a smoke would restore my normal motor functions. Then I could come back with a baseball bat and beat the hell out of this scary light bulb. I commanded what remained of my brain to urge my limbs to perform the function they exist for.

I managed to move my feet by a few microcentimeters, slipped on the pile of my own puke lying right there and banged my head against the refrigerator.

“Wake up, dopehead”.

“Wake up, or you will bleed to death, you lousy alcoholic!”

I could hear them. But I knew I stayed alone, and my doors were locked securely. You dont dope with doors open. I opened my eyes, again. What I saw was strange and gorgeous.

They talk of Area 51 and ET and Close Encounters of The Third Kind. They never talk about The Mitosians.

They stood there, the two of them. Two blobs with transparent skin, no face, no limbs, nothing at all. I could see their respective mitochondrias, there wonderful cytoplasm. It was almost like reading a Standard 10th Biology book in Three Dimensions. Bleeding. Did he say bleeding?

I was standing in a pool of my own blood. I had no footwear on, and I was standing barefoot on my own blood, staring at two highly evolved cells straight from my Standard 10th Biology Text Book.

M1 : “So, what do you want to do with your life, kid?”

M2: “We thought you had potential. We have been watching you since you were a kid, S. You have been a disappointment of Gargantuan proportion”.

ME: “Dad, Mom? Is that you?”

M1: “You can disappoint people who dont share your genetic structure as well, S. You are a fucking idiot, and you prove it every second you open your mouth”.

It had to be dad. I had heard this a million times before, but only from him.


To be continued


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