September 2, 2008

“Degeneracy can be fun but it’s hard to keep up as a serious lifetime occupation.” -Robert M. Pirsig

My life peaked at the age of 13 and has been going downhill since. As a keen and rather intelligent primate, I discovered the magic of sex way too young, and its ironic that 14 years later, I am permanently deprived of that one wonder my body can legitimately provide with the assistance of just one person and not a million, which is the normal state of our lives. What do I know that some one else before me didnt? Do I even want to know?

Discovery, accidental or otherwise, is healthy. I remember finding out its quite possible to jump from a 12 foot ledge and not break my legs. I discovered I could hit any cricket ball that came to me as long as I didnt get scared. I discovered women, I discovered cigarettes, alcohol, rock, metal and blues, I discovered I didnt have to write what people like, I discovered I didnt have to be what people like. Well, maybe , just maybe, there are a few people who wont push me to a barber’s, there may even be a girl who likes hair, facial and otherwise.

In spite of all my pesudo-grunge existence, I sometimes tend to be quite normal. I still blush when a girl catches me staring at her celestial wonders. I am still confused if they could be called phobos and demos, two fiery moons, or a pair of mangoes, or just plain mammary glands, simple functional organs that probably werent erotic till women decided to hide them. So much of our existence, even our sensuality ,is a product of mass conditioning.

Every week, between monday and friday, I am a robot. I solve problems mechanically, I handle clients mechanically, I code mechanically, and I come home, watch japanese models nude, wank off to them with Tool telling me that 46 and 2 are still ahead of me, and go to sleep,mechanically. It has nothing to do with my degree.

Every weekend, I eat, drink and think alcohol.

An odd wine through the week is also not rare. I still remember the days when me and most of my friends were so pathetically drunk we had to really ask ourselves how people turned alcoholics. We never noticed we were alcoholics.

Which brings us back to the subject of ,yes, —degeneracy!

Before I had picked up Zen, all I knew about degeneracy was in terms of atoms. Then, with the precision of a heart surgeon, I hand picked the parts of other people’s lives, their books, their dreams, their sorrows, their women, and within a few years, I didnt recognize myself. In my mind, I was Superman, I was Super Command Dhruv, I was James Bond, I was Elseworth M. Toohey, I was even Jon Bon Jovi in Destination Anywhere, and I stood there staring at Demi Moore’s window. I never fancied myself to be a Roark back then, I was tiny and I couldnt draw. I jerked off to Dominique Francon and Dagny Taggart, who in my mind always looked like the girl I fancied back then, white as snow with long hair and a condescending smile. Being a remarkably ugly child, I saw most women as Goddesses, someone I could aspire for and never be with. As I grew up, I was with a lot many of these women, and perhaps out of my deep insecurities, the count of which I have totally lost, I scoffed them off, if they didnt throw me away before that. The closest I came to being truly in a relationship was a very heartbreaking experience, and somewhat knee and back breaking as well.

At 13, I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life. I proclaimed it with much aplomb with a Denins the Menace poster- “My target-Doing nothing” which was taken in great spirit by my providers. I was lectured on how this is the time I should start working hard, etc etc. In the end, the poster stayed on the wall , my one true ambition, just to exist, just to be, just to be happy, it had to fade away and be replaced by an obscene competitive streak, which to this day haunts me. I am a composition of so many different people, I myself dont know how I would react to a given situation.

I believe all of us have severe multiple personality disorder. If you dont believe me, try this:Call your best friend at work, then call her at a party.

My one true ambition, the target of doing nothing, never really left, though. I tried my best to be the worst at everything I ever did, yet there were people far more task oriented than me and they set me up for failure even in my attempts to be a miserable failure. I just went on, always in a haze, always muddled in confusion. In third year of college, I decided to drop out, and promptly informed my providers. They agreed, since I wasnt doing well, maybe I should drop out and revive the family farms. A strong kid like me could definitely make something grow on those barren lands.

The decision was therefore soon reverted, and I applied myself  to alcohol, cigarettes and greenery. Years have been passing by, and I have been medicated, mostly on prescription drugs, and its been about two months that finally, I can tell my doctor I had  a drink and he wont kill me for that. Could it be its all those anti-dep that really fucked my head? Rationalization, thy name is Monkey.

There’s a school of thought in the department of primate psychology in the Univerity of Ximians which suggests that all of us are addicts of some kind and we all have very low self esteem. Some talk too much, some lie too much, some are just addicted to proving they arent addicts and we really take what other people think of us way too seriously. The highly acclaimed research wasnt published in any major journal, however, for it would destroy the world as we know it. Take away addictions and give every one some self esteem, and Apple would be selling a Jack a nano version of The Giant Peach in a fruit mart.

Presently, I realise I havent left the path of degeneracy I once adopted out of a necessity to escape reality and the people whose life I live. Time is running out, and everything seems to stagnate, each day is the same and I still feel like SCD and Superman, and Maynard James Keenan and Roger Waters and George Orwell and Madonna.

Its been a while since I felt like myself, though.


All for love – I

August 1, 2008

Gurgaon is practically a suburb of Delhi. Or so I thought.

For love, and money, I took up a job in Gurgaon. The city is excellent, but its only halfway done. Except for the malls. Yeah, the awesome, lovely malls with their multiplexes and midriff-baring girl-jeans hoardings. I havent been to the city since December 2006.

I worked quite hard to ensure it was in/around Delhi, my campus placement. And I managed it too. I was rather proud of myself. I had worked for it, I managed to get it. It was awesome.

It sucked bigtime. It took an hour and a half to reach anywhere close to my sweetheart, which after work was impossible. I couldnt take a place close to her house cos I wasnt paid well enough. Worse, I had suddenly realised my love for alcohol slightly exceeded my love for my sweetheart. I tried to divide my attention between the two, with alcohol winning owing to the simple fact: We had a few drinks together, me and my sweets.

Anyhow, lets get to the point. It was a cold December evening. We met at TGIF @CP , and were sloshed out of our skulls, PDAs and loud laughs. You know how it gets when two people meet and behave like there’s no tomorrow. Both of us knew it could be our last time together, every meeting came with the caveat that it could be the last. She was an hieress of sorts, I was a loser of all sorts. The only thing I had ever been serious about was her, and she was half serious about me herself. And, we almost made it.

I digress again. This isnt the story of how to make a bad situation worse, its the story of the victory of love over lack of public transport. That fateful day in December 2004, when I was in Gurgaon when I should have been in college writing a paper on fuel cells, was of course a Sunday. You get a bus that takes you somewhere close to the friend’s place I was bunking in at. You get the bus, but only till about 11 in the night. From CP to the place where you get that bus, a place called Dhaula Kuan, named so as to avert the coward for fear of falling in a well. I eventually managed to get off an auto, and took out my exceptionally flashy “Rack and Pinion” Samsung N-400 to look at the time.

I opened the flap, but the antenna didnt pop out. It was a dead brick presently, out of power. I had courageously ignored the tu-toos it made to alert me of the catastropy that was about to befall the ximian kind, and my courage paid me stupidly well. I was stranded around 35 km from my shelter, I was wearing a thing grey hooded benneton sale ka maal which kept me about as warm as a vest would do, and there were no bus to Gurgaon.

I sweet talked a bus-wallah into telling me a place where I could get off and reach somewhere close to my shelter. I knew exactly four guys in Delhi, and I just knew them. I didnt know their number, because my stupid cell phone was dead, alcohol could be smelt in a radius of 3 m around me, I could barely speak without a stutter and I was cold as hell. He told me of a bus that would drop me somplace from where I could get a 6-seater (which actually meant 6 in each of the 3 rows).

I, the brave knight in a smelly grey sweatshirt, jumped on the bus, bought the ticket, and made everyone around me uncomfortable with the booze smell. I was suffocated, I felt like puking.

I dozed off for a few microseconds, when I woke up with a start to realise that my bus was empty. I walked out the door, confident that the 50 bucks I had would carry me to my shelter from here somehow.

I got down in the pitch dark, expecting to locate the semblance of a six-seater. There was one, there. I walked towards it with brave excitement, only to realise it was stalled and dysfunctional. As I walked further, I recognised some of my bus mates. I asked them what the hell happened , and they told me that the bus broke down. Where are we? We dont know. How do we get to Gurgaon? We hitch a ride on something.


July 21, 2008

Its already 8. I will be fined again. Corporate culture, discipline. Shit man, I have already resigned. Cant they all just leave me alone?

10 bucks for another hour’s sleep is not a bad deal at all. But now that I have left the company, eyes will be raised, the HR machinery set into motion. Can I make it by 8:10? I dont really care anyway. My knee is acting up again, I guess today will be a valium day. How long can I survive without  drugs? 10? 15 minutes?

Whats left to be done? My life as I knew it is over. The future is, well, yet to arrive. I feel like shit. Ever since she told me she wasnt blue anymore, I have been drinking continuously. I’d resigned before I interviewed for other companies. It wasnt arrogance. It was a desperate attempt to show her I could give it all up for a few more months with her. All useless now, all a waste. Everything that I have ever done makes no sense. Without her, nothing makes sense.

I have fallen into a loop. My health is deteriorating every hour. I have been on drugs, some prescription, some arranged for, some rolled into a joint, some popped as pills. I have gained 10 kgs in the last 20 days. I can hardly walk 5 steps without running out of breath. This is impossible. I used to be an optimist. I hardly know what I am now.

The coffee sucks. This bai of mine is another incompetent asshole, like me, like everyone else. I never was a perfectionist anyway. It has caffeine, thats all that counts.9 minutes left. I wonder if I should be driving with my bad knee. The MRI isnt good, but nothing’s really damaged. 6 years is a long time. It should have either healed or gone worse, but it stays the same. I can hardly imagine a pain free life. It was so much more bearable when she was around.

The sun seems closer by a few light minutes. I am drenched the moment I walk out of the door. I always sweat too much. The virtues of being fat.

I forgot the car keys again. I never forget to forget, at least. The car doesnt look good with the ugly dent. Could I have swerved? I didnt care. I just watched that bike bang the driver’s side, and I didnt move at all. It didnt do my already bad knee any good, and I was stupid to expect a bike to actually kill me.

The biker intended to slap me, but didnt. No one beats you up when you deserve it.

I dont remember where I kept the keys. I slept in formals again, it should be somewhere near the bed. There they are, right beside the iron. I pick up the keys and turn off the iron. Its probably been switched on since Monday.

Nothing seems right. One more day to the weekend. Its scary as hell. What will I do on the weekend?

The traffic sucks. Delhi and NCR. Fuck it. No way I can reach in 5 minutes.

Why do I bother? There’s nothing I can do about it.

Why do I bother? There was nothing I could have done.

There’s a life to waste. Her departure is probably no more than an excuse to indulge in full time degeneracy. Self destruction, your name is The Monkey. There. Closer.

I open up the dashboard. 3 left. I pop in 2 of them, and I gulp them down without water. A few minutes. Sleep. Slumber. No more pain. Nothing. Nothing at all.

I can hear the honks. There’s a guy knocking at my car’s window. I try and look for the window lever. Then I try and look for the window button. I find it. I apply the minimal amount of pressure. I can hardly move my hands.

The guy unlocks the car and pulls me out. I am quite delighted to see so many people around my car. Its like I am a celebrity.

There’s blood all over me. My car’s stacked against a Tata pickup truck. My windshield is scattered all over the hood of my car and the road.

I am lying down on the road. I think that guy pulled me out. There’s a cop car now. I have all my papers. No one can arrest me. I didnt do anything wrong.

They put me up on a stretcher. I like the sun. I feel so calm. So very calm.

They tell me to keep talking, so I start singing nursery rhymes. Row row row the boat, gently down the stream. Merrily merrily merrily merrily, life’s just a dream. I feel great.

I try to keep my eyes open, but I feel so sleepy. I close my eyes.

There’s a flash of light and I feel closer to her than I ever did before.

And then there’s nothing. Nothing at all.

M Part II

June 27, 2008

“So you think I am your dad, eh?”

“He is so right and so wrong at the same moment. Always a bundle of contradictions.”

These things are weird. Where the fuck do they speak from? They dont seem to have any oral opening. In fact they dont have ANY opening. I think I am still lying on the floor and dreaming.

“No you arent, kid. We dont have to speak, we just have to think. What you primitives call telepathy is basically our means of communication, which one of our extra enthusiastic engineers tried to plant in your stupid system. You morons are so degenerate that you didnt realise that THAT was the means of comm. we devised for you, not that stupid vocal box, which was a prank the same engineer played by fitting in monkey parts in you. The monkeys, by the way, were a failed experiment.”

What the fuck? And I thought the monkeys were ancestors and shit.

“In a way, yes. We learnt a few things from that mistake, and fixed them all and created you.”

He fucking hears everything I say.

“Yes, he does. And I do, too. Its funny to see you nitwits spending so much time on languages when all you had to do was to think. What a waste of resources.”

He must be my project manager. No one else I know talks in terms of resources.

“Your lack of intelligence is pitiable. Sigh.”

Its funny how I know which one of these things is speaking. I wonder how they see.

“Its beyond your understanding, kid. Way beyond.”

“Listen, kid. And dont barge in. We are the mitosians. Everything you see, we created it. As you can see, we look much like your class 10th biology cells. Those are our compressed, minimally functional images. We are natives of a place called Mitosia. You can think of it as a planet in your terminology, though thinking in terms of planets and distances prohibits commutation between places. Now, our place was getting a bit too crowded, so we came upon earth as a suitable place. We live on oxygen, too, you see.

But earth, as you see, is a rather sad and insect infested place. We liked the place, but we wanted to get rid of the inhabitants. So we created you, the humans.”

What the fuck have I to do with this shit?

“Shut up, you imbecile. We created you to clean up the planet. We created monkeys before you, but they proved far too stupid, stupider even than you. Everything is on track, we helped you create nukes and bombs and swords and stuff, one of us oversaw your progress as the Phraoh for a while, then he got bored , and while we educated you to kill and destroy each other as well once you clear the planet of the other stupid animals, we monitored your progress with great interest.”

These morons dont know shit about ecology.

“You barge in again and I will paralyse the left half of your brain with my Mito-Chon-Drill-Ray. That would hurt. The fact is, you dont know shit about ecology. Once you are off the place, we will deal with it. Lets talk about expectations we had from you. Pretty much everything is clear, but we needed one degenerate who despises the earth enough to be willing to clear off everything that exists. From our calculations, that degenerate is you. We have been watching you closely. You shouldnt jerk off so much btw, it reduces your chances of real copulation. Anyway, we watched and monitored your progress, we made your life shittier than it should have been to ensure complete hatred. What we didnt expect was you being so fucking lazy to ignore all thats happened to you. You have disappointed us, and to create another one like you would take another 20 days. We dont have so much time.”

Either days means something I dont understand, or he means 20 million years.

“Its close to 200 million years. We planted you here before we planted the dinosaurs.”

All hell to Darwin. 200 million years, and humans have evolved to other humans. Sigh.

“Darwin was our guy. He came here to monitor you and made some jokes”

“So was Einstein. He started loving humans so much he didnt assist Hitler. Else we could have been here a few seconds earlier. Hitler, by the way, was the guy from the second line we hoped would clear all of it.”


To be continued


June 23, 2008

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