Like the wind blows...

Knock knock… thumppp… crrreak… thud!!!
He entered the house and the door closed behind him. No one was there; everything was still as lying deserted for ages. Inside, everything was bathed in vivid cloudy light. Moths danced silently around the dim light. Dust covered everything and the whole room appeared like clay molded creeping chamber. It seemed like time frame had stagnated itself. He moved towards the kitchen. Dust danced with his steps like hands coming out of dust and trying to stop him. The window showed the silent thundering outside. It was pouring outside. He reached the kitchen; turned on the light… the room gleamed, only darkening the shadows. He crossed the kitchen and entered another room which only showed light in the corner door. Probably it was the wash-room. Slowly and steadily he reached the door bathed in the dim streak of light. When he reached the door, something thundered in his head… lightening… and then the light became intense… white… and everything went blank…
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Knock knock… … … clunk… creak…
‘Who’s this?’, a husky female voice asked from half open door.
‘Hello, my name is Jonathon J. Craft, I am homicide investigator… can I come in and ask you a few questions?’
‘Sorry, I have many things to work on; I have no time for work out of business. Go away!’ the voice answered with an air of haste and closed the door.
Knock knock… … knock knock… … …
‘I told you to go away’, this time the voice snarled without opening the door, ‘I have no time for this crap, get yourself out of here!’
‘err… sorry marm, but yester night we found Mr. Fredrickson lying dead outside 34-Parkville!’ he uttered everything in a jiff.
The door opened with a creak revealing an elderly lady with big beady eyes, ‘come inside!’
He entered and followed her to the sitting room. The inside of the house seemed like house of a nun; a large cross was dangling on the front wall, a sculpture of crucifixion of Jesus stood on the table in the left corner and when he entered the wide room, it was swept in rich aroma of camphor. Bible was placed neatly on a table adjacent to a rocking chair in the room. She slowly reached the chair and settled there calmly. Her behavior had changed abruptly on the mention of Mr. Fredrickson.
‘Bring that chair and sit here.’ She said calmly and placed the bible on her lap.
He took the seat obediently.
‘Now tell me, why did you come here?’
‘Marm today in the morning we found a man lying in the front yard of 34-Parkville with his head buried inside earth and whole body scratched ruthlessly. You know that the house has been abandoned for many years. When we were collecting the evidence we found this in his pocket,’ he showed her a black visiting card with a logo of pentacle on left side, ‘Europhericia… like the wind blows… isn’t it you Marm?’
‘Yes this is my card; I used to tell the fortunes and guide the folks with the will of God,’ she answered with an air of pride, ‘but I have long ago left this practice and now what I do is my meditation enclosed inside these walls.’
He eyed her suspiciously, ‘So, is this death related to you… and who else the part of your company was… and how do you know Mr. Fredrickson?’
‘Yes, he is an old friend of mine. We met in the church seven years ago. From then on we used to visit New Orleans regularly for Mardi gras. But what can be done; God wanted to call him, so He called him…’ her toned changed to sadness, ‘but who can do it?’ she asked thoughtfully.
‘Marm we are also at a loss of any evidence. You are our only hope; and probably you can help us in finding the source of all this mystery.’ He said as calmly as ever.
‘Actually he was just a friend of mine, I know nothing about him except we only met in church and we had Mardi gras parade visiting in common, nothing else. But I will always remember him that he was such a kind man.’ And she broke into tears.
‘Yes, I understand everything… but I was wondering if you could do me a favor… that you accompany us to the inside of 34-Parkville…’ he asked her in the same calm tone but she budged on hearing the Parkville like receiving a great electric shock, ‘…because that house belongs to you!’
‘No way, God… even his Son shows His anger on such words… don’t go there or He will conjure the storm upon you… I have abandoned the house long ago’ She changed her state quickly, ‘now it’s the time for meditation, you can go from here… and never come back…’
He stood up and before leaving he said, ‘Marm, neither do God presage to kill a human being… pray that I find the culprit…’ for a moment he watched into her eyes and then left.
Someone was observing him from the window of the next house…
-----------------------------
Knock knock… (thunder)… knock knock…
It was raining heavily in unusually dark night… a silhouette stood in front of the 34-Parkville.
Knock knock… thumppp… creak… thud!!!
He entered the house and the door closed behind him. No one was there; everything was still as lying deserted for ages. Inside, everything was bathed in vivid cloudy light. Moths danced silently around the dim light. Dust covered everything and the whole room appeared like clay molded creeping chamber. It seemed like time frame had stagnated itself. He moved towards the kitchen. Dust danced with his steps like hands coming out of dust and trying to stop him. The window showed the silent thundering outside. It was pouring outside. He reached the kitchen; turned on the light… the room gleamed, only darkening the shadows. He crossed the kitchen and entered another room which only showed light in the corner door. Probably it was the wash-room. Slowly and steadily he reached the door bathed in the dim streak of light. When he reached the door, something thundered in his head… lightening… and then the light became intense… white… a hollow voice started to dissolve in his head… pain… a hooded silhouette standing in bath-tub… scythe… pound pound… and everything went blank…
------------------------------------------------
Knock knock… … … clunk… creak…
‘Who’s this?’ a husky female voice asked from half open door.
‘Hello, this is Jon, I came to visit you yesterday, there is another death similar to the previous one, and the evidence shows the same card of yours….’
‘Go away… I warn you… please go away… you will be killed. Forget it. I plead you to go away.’ she shouted from the closed door.
‘Marm, I just wanted to ask you… I had left my watch on the table…’
‘I said get the hell outta here, you rogue… I had stopped publishing and giving those cards long ago’ she shouted again on top of her voice.
‘Okay okay I will come later.’ While leaving he caught the sight of eyes behind the window of the next house move, and the eyes shone white in his head… becoming intense… but he somewhat succeeded in leaving.
---------------------------
Knock knock… thumppp… creak… thud!!!
He entered the house and the door closed behind him. No one was there; everything was still as lying deserted for ages. Inside, everything was bathed in vivid cloudy light. Moths danced silently around the dim light. Dust covered everything and the whole room appeared like clay molded creeping chamber. It seemed like time frame had stagnated itself. He moved towards the kitchen. Dust danced with his steps like hands coming out of dust and trying to stop him. The window showed the silent thundering outside. It was pouring outside. He reached the kitchen; turned on the light… the room gleamed, only darkening the shadows. He crossed the kitchen and entered another room which only showed light in the corner door. Probably it was the wash-room. Slowly and steadily he reached the door bathed in the dim streak of light. When he reached the door, something thundered in his head… lightening… and then the light became intense… white… a hollow voice started to dissolve in his head… pain… a hooded silhouette standing in bath-tub with only white slits instead of eyes… holding a scythe… pound pound… screams… and everything went blank…
--------------------
Knock knock… … knock knock… But the door was locked.
He immediately threw his sight on the next house but there was a white curtain behind the window. The same house was again locked.
He immediately called his office, ‘Hello this is Jon, we have a situation in 84-Burkson, I am breaking in… call for the reinforcements silently… I repeat call for the reinforcements silently…’
Then he immediately went to the front window, shattered the glass with a blow and jumped in. At the same time the white curtain in the adjacent house moved and the white eyes behind the window caught sight of Jon entering the house…
Inside, everything was scattered, all the crosses and statues had been thrown here and there… and there was no sign of that elderly lady. He had forgotten to ask her name, he searched his pocket for the card. Same “Europhericia… like the wind blows” was written there, nothing else. He immediately moved towards the front window, and when he reached there, a blow stunned him… and everything went blank…
-------------------
Knock knock… thumppp… creak… thud!!!
He heard knocking from far away… white light… intense light… he knew nothing… couldn’t remember anything… damped footsteps approaching from far… bath-tub… tiles… eyes narrowed and got accustomed to the bright light… extreme headache, a hump in the head… footsteps approaching… Jon… Jonathon J… Craft… yes he was Jon… lying almost blank in the bath-tub… 34-park… parking??? Car parking… thirty…four… three plus four… seven… seven… seventh Wednesday from Easter… Ash Wednesday… Mardi gras… MARDI GRAS… oh dammit… Mardi gras… he remembered everything in a flash… he tried to move but he was fastened tightly in ropes. In the other corner, the same elderly lady was lying unconscious. The footsteps approached and approached. He could figure out the dark room from the door of the illuminated wash room. And the footsteps stopped!
With half consciousness he saw an unknown man standing confused in front of him. When the man saw him, he rushed forward and in a split-second, the door shut behind him and a hooded figure with white eyes tripped that unknown man, produced his scythe and started ripping his head off… Jon had regained his senses on sight of such a scene! He kicked the lady so check if she was alive, but shed didn’t move. When the writhing of the murdered one stopped, the hooded figure removed his hood. He was also an elderly man with a bald head and brown beard.
‘Ha ha I knew that you will try to approach me… but you know I approached you. Now no one can find the unknown murderer.’ He spoke with a thin voice, not at all matching his chubby bulky body.
‘Who are you?’ Jon could only come up with these words.
‘You know me, I am the guy whom you thought to be dead… both of you!’ he pointed to the unconscious lady.
‘Fred… Fredrickson? No, I myself attended his funeral; he was not bald as you are!’
‘Ha ha, what did you find… an identity card… huh… you yourself know that IDs can be changed easily. Simply I killed him, buried his head in the mud and replaced my identity. And thumbs up for my wife, she still believed that I was dead… ha ha ha you blockhead!’
‘Is she your wife? How come! And why did she keep on hiding you?’ Jon got more confused.
‘I’ll kill your confusion before killing you,’ he cleared his throat, ‘Yes she was a pretty woman; she used to visit New Orleans for Mardi Gras parades. And I lived in New Orleans. We met there and in a matter of days we were married. She was a religious woman and didn’t know about my traits; I was a punk, had no home no rules, but I loved her. So I approached her and you know she got my first impression as a catholic rather than alcoholic. She gave me her hand and we moved here. But when she detected that I was alcoholic she did her full effory to quit my drinking. But I was an addict. So she started hating me. One night when I returned home fully drunk, she hit me in the head with this club,’ he showed a club which usually cops have, ‘I wonder, from where she got this. I hit you with the same club. Anyway she thought that she had killed me, she buried me in the backyard of this house and moved to 84-Burkson…’
At the same time the body the lady started coming to life, she sat down without any effort and when she caught sight of Fred, she started screaming, ‘Oh in the name of God, go away… for heaven’s sake, for Christ’s sake… leave this city… our death is worth nothing… I plead you to go away!’
‘Hushhh… honey are you worried… haven’t you buried me without any funeral and with the grace of your god, I was resurrected! Yes, I am now the archangel, and I take their live… ha ha ha!’
‘You blasphemous devil, you’d be burnt in hell! I know that I will never be forsaken for my sin, but you will be burnt in the hell, you are cursed!’ she shouted on the top of her lungs.
‘Your god… he will burn me? Huh!’ he started kicking her! Jon couldn’t do anything to save her.
He loosened her ropes, threw the club on floor and held the scythe tightly in both hands. In the meantime Jon stretched himself with tightened rope and succeeded in falling out of the bath-tub.
Thuddd…
On hearing the thud, he left the lady ‘Oh… why not kill the one trying to be smart… eh?’ and moved to kill Jon. He held the scythe in air and…
Strike one…
Jon bellowed with pain, blood started gushing out of his arm. He again raised his arms and…
Strike two…
This time Jon’s other arm was struck! He again writhed and cried with blood spilling out of him. Jon started fainting…
Strike three…
Jon cried again… life slipping out of his body, but this time the striker fell and revealed her holding the club… and everything went blank…
---------------------
Knock knock… knock knock…
…you are given life…
…like the wind blows…
…wander here and there…
…like the wind blows…
Slowly he opened his eyes and white ceiling came into his view…
Knock knock…
‘Yes!’
Officer came in!
‘Jon, how are you feeling?’
‘I’m fine… what happened?’ he asked weakly.
‘We came there just in time, the murderer lady was trying to kill you after killing two other guys, and we saved you just in time! Your arms are badly injured and call it a miracle that you are alive.’
‘Oh she’s not Mardi Gras… she’s Christ… don’t arrest Mardi Gras…’ Jon murmured without gathering up the words.
‘What!’ the officer exclaimed, ‘Jon you are not in your senses. But you did a great job, when you called for help, nothing was there in 84-Burkson. So our first guess came to 34 Parkville… and we saved you just in time. Now you take rest.’
‘err… what is ‘like the wind blows’?’ Jon murmured more weakly.
‘I don’t know… you take rest… oh one other thing; the lady says that you’ve got some explanation about her before any sentence… hope you give her a great blow in court.’
‘Yes I will…’ Jon smiled, ‘like the wind blows…’
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Welcome Back...

.. to ourselves, of course. We've been M.I.A. But hopefully, things will resume and gather pace soon. Been a little busy with the final year project, and it's about to conclude, so yeah good luck to us!

Insight on Love

Brown Penny

I whispered, 'I am too young,'
And then, 'I am old enough';
Wherefore I threw a penny
To find out if I might love.
'Go and love, go and love, young man,
If the lady be young and fair.'
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
I am looped in the loops of her hair.

O love is the crooked thing,
There is nobody wise enough
To find out all that is in it,
For he would be thinking of love
Till the stars had run away
And the shadows eaten the moon.
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
One cannot begin it too soon.

-W. B. Yeats

I really liked this poem the first time I heard it. Reading it again, I find great artistry at work.
The use of contradicting words and whole verses just make clear one thing:
love is in fact a dilemma and you can never be sure about whether to indulge or not.
It's more chance (like flipping a brown penny) than plan and the open end to this poem says it all, "One cannot begin it too soon."

My new story...

I started writing on arthropode fiction and again got stuck in the middle, and had to end it in a weird way... so here i'm sending it after improving THREE DRAFTS.... i hope that it would again be a bongaish piece of work!!!

Probably my brothers are insane that they keep on harassing those red blooded halfcrawlers (they have four legs and still they crawl on two) by running in front of their gaze, I hate this that my brothers are so selfish and domestically dependent upon those red juiced ruts that they keep on living on their production. As a reminder I keep on telling them that perhaps we crawl on all 6 and we are to be the ruling creation of the roach-kind… but still my brothers go to them sniffing for the rations; nut heads they all are, they all keep on wagging their tails behind those halfcrawlers like ladybirds; Phooey!

Though I accept that we are settled in the sewer of those halfcrawlers, but we aint that dependent that we keep on eating their crap like vermin, I mean we’re of good kind… we are creatures… living creatures… and my own kind keeps on neglecting my insults and taunts about their stealing food. Lash, one of my brothers once retorted on my insult, “you mean we also start harvesting like those slaves, come on chuck, we’re the rulers, those halfcrawlers are our slaves and they’d keep on making good rations for us…”. And before his sentence could finish, I vanished from there. I used to crawl out in the middle of my loss in argument; actually I always hated lagging in any argument, and the least thing I could do to avoid my loss was to leave the discussion uninterrupted. My ol’ mate was right that it is extremely hard to crawl against the gush…

Our ladies have developed wings, and most of them are hatching eggs all the time, so we are mostly forced to protect them and even prevent them from flying away, because they have the rebellious nature of being curious on seeing every new issue (I’m sure those halfcrawlers also have their ladies like ours). Mine lady is most annoyed with me. She always advises me to crawl in the stream, with our own kind: that we are the rulers of the halfcrawlers and we have our network of interconnected palaces in their sewers, having our rations without even issuing our orders to them… and on my refusal she always gets furious and flutters at me, (I like her for that fluttering angrily at me) that at least I should not live like a lethargic hag, nibbling every piece of what they brew for us in their sewers…

Well all this crap wasn’t worth a single postage-stamp-glue, so I became less active in my resolution, and I started waiting for a moment to strike while the metal became hot…

One day while we were preparing for dirt hunt in the pantry, Kyle came rushing and tumbling in our chamber, in a pathetic condition, he had his head sliced off neatly and he was hitting here and there on the cast iron walls. First of all I couldn’t bear the trauma on such a horrible sight, second all of the apothecaries were gone out in search of saprophytes for curing purposes. We’re already so abundant in number and divide so rapidly that we are trained to jump on our back while the death becomes unavoidable so that we die and feel the pain for less time… but it doesn’t mean that my brother dies in vain. He was still bumping on the cast iron walls of my chamber. My lady came rushing in on hearing the nuisance; and as soon as she saw him she started screaming and fluttering her wings; and in a moment she became a part of the whole nuisance. Still standing there I could think of nothing… what I could do, I could only add some effort to the confusion created by both of my relations; my brother and my lady… and I did it; I started rushing toward him while screaming, “Kyle, my brother, what they did to you! I told you…” I almost strangled him, “not to go to those halfcrawlers… and you lost your head there… Kyle! Answer me, at least say something…” and after a moment or two I realized that he had no head, and to speak, the least requirement is the presence of head on your body. Dumbfounded, I calmed him down… but he was really in agony… and it took too long to calm him down. Then I sent my lady to call any of the apothecaries to diagnose my (half) brother…

I don’t know how we passed the time in waiting for them. And when they arrived, their response was not better than ours; appalled, eyes wide open, mouths thrown apart and feelers pulled apart; they all were gazing at the disfigured remnants of my poor brother who had at last calmed himself over his nerves. And here it started the natter…

“…we used to hear about headless roaches from our old ones, and now one is in fronta our eyes… err err I can’t believe this…someone clinch my feelers, it’s an unbelievable sight... look how smoothly his head is chopped off… what would he do now…” sort of exclamations started rising up in our chamber and in a moment, the whole clan gathered in our chamber; all were eager to catch just a glimpse of my brother; and even knowing that headless roach couldn’t speak, they kept on inquiring him about how did this happen; who did this, why this happened, how does it feels to be without head… all sorts of nasty questions that came up in their heads, they threw upon Kyle, and he sat there doing nothing. And thanks to my lady that she started shooing all the clan off the chamber, and within no time we were left with the chieftain of apothecaries, Lingoo! He’s a nice roach, wise and sometimes even witty. But as soon as he starts his conversation, he becomes the most annoying roach in the whole clan. And he did start his conversation with me;

“Hee theeya, hodee do do… do’s brether recepted a new unique injury… me is half happy and half sad that ee got left alive but ee lost ee’s edd…”

“…respectively!” I completed his sentence annoyingly.

“ee’s brether hath no remedy, ee would live as long as the ration remains inside ee’s gut… and if do don’t swipe my feelers, he’d die after that…”

“You mean he’d last for a month only???” I retorted in a genuine anguish, because I knew that a roach could survive only up to a month without eating.

“yees yees, me suggests do to keep eem in do’s chamber and take care of eem!”

“ok ok I understand! Now off with you, enough of your gab!” I summed all up in a jiffy and he was buzzed-off the next moment.

I collapsed there, with a sort of confusion upon my nerves that whether it was a dream or a reality; we used to listen stories from our mothers that our heroes kept on standing against the lizard monsters while the latter snatched of their heads, fought with them headless and returned victorious… yes it was a common story of our roach-lore and at that time I literally enjoyed while imagining the historical scene of duels of those headless warriors with the lizards, but when I came to senses, I was really looking at my brother as if he had returned after killing a lizard.

…..Aaaarghhh …..He still had his head off, he had only three quarters of a month left to live with us and then he’d be handed over to the digesters...They would eat him up so that a new generation of my brother could be created. Digesters are the small parasites who keep on eating our dead ones… and our funerals are usual ceremonies followed by the leaving of dead in any dark and damp place where it could be digested by them… we call it as ‘handing over to the digesters.’

Helpless I came out of chamber and started crawling down the drain towards (I guess) the pantry with nothing in mind but my brother. Probably there could be a way of recovering my brother’s condition if I found his head. I entered the pantry, it was a huge chamber; every type of root was placed or hung in there. It smelled like soil. I crawled idly and reached the kitchen but there was no trace of any head there…

Oh Ants! Those vermin, they’re all the time searching for anything consumable to stock! I caught sight of a whole army of ants leaving the kitchen

We hate ants, they gobble up everything, and sometimes they eat us even. Though their size is even smaller than our waste but twoscore of them could easily tackle a full grown roach… and our weakness is ‘falling on our back’; it is same as dying… once our back touches the ground, our efforts of recovering and running away are worthless… but not as worthless as being without head… head? HEAD!!! A reflex action itself stimulated my nerves on the word ‘head’… yes I had seen head somewhere while thinking about it and it were them; they were taking my brother’s head to their nest…

“Whoa! Stop stop you damn mites, you idiots!”

I shouted at them and they didn’t bother at my shouting and continued their march towards their nest.

I had no other way than to follow those escaping mites, no time to call reinforcements and I had to keep them in sight. So I started rushing behind them madly, disturbing and breaking their long never ending queue. The ants going at the rear dispersed and started chasing me and I had only two words in my mind; Kyle’s head! Yes we could mend up Kyle like a brand new roach with stiff and steady feelers twitching around all the time… oh come on, only a head to recover…

One of those vermin was dragging his head and a full legion of was acting as an escort legion to their destination; the nest somewhere at the end of backyard. The condition of Kyle’s head was almost deteriorated into an unrecognizable piece of dirt; no sign of feelers and eyes were almost like nibbled up, and it none the less looked like an eaten up bone, I’d at least had to save the remnants of his head… and all of these observations were gushing in my nerves like halfcrawler fists, I ran towards the target, gained height on a knife-handle projecting out of the stool resting adjacent to their route, and plunged myself into the ongoing caravan…

BANG!

The first thing that came to my grip was that precious head, I clutched it tightly in my arms and the chaos started. I fell on my back and all of those villains started dispersing, the fighting force emerged from the back ranks and launched their assault on me. A thousand mouths started gnawing at me, I shouted, flinched and writhed in agony but soon everything started to dissolve in my eyes; I felt as being hauled slowly… I was probably watching the ceiling of the kitchen, and soon it dissolved.

In the darkness I heard the fluttering sounds for a moment… felt hurled to the ground… and then light came again into my eyes… I saw the silhouettes of my lady and others flying below my feet… then I heard a familiar voice… Kyle… Lash… Tim… Ling… Lingoo; yes it was Lingoo… again noise, lots of cries, pandemonium… and probably Lingoo started dragging me by the feelers… and I lost consciousness while holding Kyle’s head still in my arms…

**********************

I gained consciousness… my chamber started appearing into the view… the whole lot of my clan was gathered in there… from floor to roof all stood around me, my lady was standing in the corner like a dead leaf. Probably Lingoo had repaired me up, ‘cause he was packing up his herbs pouch. But no one asked me anything, rather on gaining my consciousness  they started emptying my chamber, it felt strange… very strange indeed! And In a couple of moments, all of them were gone except me, Lingoo and her! I relaxed myself still lying there. Silence…

“Hue do do feel naow?”, Lingoo finally broke the silence, “Do’s lady saved do’s dayee! Fatunately be bere going fur durt hund in the pandry and while goeeng there do’s lady caught site of ee… do wus crawlung as if in a dream, and den ee created that bloodshed there… but be saved do! And why the hellz do wanded that pieze of crap?”

“what?” he asked something so abruptly in his bore conversation that I was startled for a moment.

“Yes, you were holding this...” my lady came forward with a piece of small bone in her hand and spoke so coldly that I was surprised on such a peculiar behavior from her. “it isn’t even worth a crap!”

Suddenly I realized that the head I tried to snatch from those ants wasn’t actually a ‘head’ but a piece of bone… Oh damn holy food! I did all this for just a piece of waste! I was so preoccupied with Kyle’s tragedy that I couldn’t even recognize a piece of bone… What a shame!

“So, now tell me why you ran for it, we were not dying of hunger in here…” sigh! She again started attacking me with her sarcastic taunts, “Tell me, if you wanted to die then you should’ve told me, I myself would have smashed your skull!”

“err… err I just wanted to save Kyle’s head.” I replied intently observing her expressions, she was unexpectedly fuming with anger and watching me angrily as if I’d never be forgiven… and then she broke into tears…

“Hey hey sweet, I’m alright, as new as a seed, don’t cry please.” I was deeply moved by her crying, she never ever cried before “I told you I went there to save Kyle’s head!”

“Ha ha do wanded to feex bone pieze instedda ee’s edd…” Lingoo tried his humor again.

“Shutup Ling!” she again came to a start, “Are you such an idiot that you distinguished this junk as his head… I’d already found it there in the kitchen, and Lingoo tried to fix it up on him but no worth… you should’ve at least asked me… why the hell you did this” she broke into tears again. Lingoo remained silent this time.

Silence, followed by the sobs of my lady…

“What’s happened, why you are acting so dumb today… look I’m arrkkk…”

It felt as if my trunk was torn apart, I shrieked in agony… Ohhhhhhhhhhh! I slowly moved my gaze towards my trunk… half of my trunk was missing, and I couldn’t even move at my own will. My lady’s sobbing again started!

Silence again…

I understood everything; the ants had eaten the half of my gut!

And for the first time I noticed something beside me… sitting with me, same headless Kyle, was playing idly with the air…

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LAAL concert photos

Hussain asked for some photos from the LAAL concert in front of GEO building in blue area, islamabad. Well, I got some from a friend who also attended the event.

Two long shots of the stage, they had set in the corridor of the building. Picture is dark, but you might be able to make out that a lot of people had gathered at short notice. Taimur Rehman rightly terms LAAL's concerts as "guerilla concerts".

Close in on to the stage and you can see Hamid Mir punching the air. hehe

my friend, Omer Mubarik, who took these photos with LAAL's lead guitarist, Taimur Rehman

Drink to the revolution...

How long before the next plague, the next disaster,
The pretences, bright smiles and condescension,
Descend upon us, like birds of carrion, again,

How long before we take the plunge, the dreaded drop,
The misery, the broken promises and shattered lives,
Visit us, like ghosts of nightmares past, again,

How long before the last battle, the final encounter,
The carnage, civil war and cadavers of humans,
Are scattered around us in the last throes of oppression,

How long before winter departs, the sun dawns,
And life flows through the desolate garden, again…

Reforms...

I have given this some thought and Ive come up with a few possible solutions or outcomes, although the actions of humans, and particularly pakistanis, cant be predicted (who would have predicted us, slumbering punjabis, to rise in such force against the govt.)

1) We have a Marquez like situation and from somewhere or the other, a Colonel, comes to the fore...Should be possible because our and South America's political situation isnt much different, but I think we have had just one military dictator too many to trust them anymore.

2) We dont do anything, these politicians fuck around for the next decade or so, alternating in short spans of 2-3 years and then there comes another coup...People get scared and hide in their homes, the dictator cosies up to them and then gets his ass kicked in turn by the people once he has wasted another decade or so of our time, then we start again...

3) We have a revolution...Frankly speaking this is where I can see we are headed to, this govt. and presumably the next one too will go on messing up things, people dont get justice, electricity, food, shelter, anything, just piles and piles of bills and, what can only be called, extortion money. They get fed up and revolt...There is a civil war...

3A) The people win as a result of the civil war, they setup a new government, there is justice, peace and prosperity, everyone lives happily ever after. Not gonna happen though...We can keep dreaming...

3B) The revolution is over, there have been negotiations between the autocracy and the people, the autocracy has bowed down to the demands of the people, for the time, the feudals are lurking somewhere in the shadows, the generals are making plans of their own...

3C) What kind of political system do we adopt and what about the constitution...

4) Through political awareness and democratic progres, we build up a conscious nation, one that selects representatives that bring justice to the society. This might happen but it will take time, loads of it infact but I dont think we hav enough patience or time for this method...

What do yu folks think?

Long March - The Celebrations

And although the news had gotten out as early as midnight, around 6 am on the morning of 16^th November, the Prime Minister said it himself: the Chief Justice has been restored. However ambiguous this declaration was, however brief and ill-explanatory, throughout the hordes of marchers on the G.T. road, throughout the supporters of this movement spread across the nation, and throughout the Revolution that wasn't, it transformed into one very sweet and indelible word: victory! And activists are known for celebrating success, so it was only expected that a wave of celebrations swept the country especially Punjab, where this battle was being fought. The long march was called off, but many of those participating in the move did go on to reach Rawalpindi/Islamabad. Through the night, the Chief Justice house in the judges’ enclave became a center of festive activity and stayed till late evening. Jubilant lawyers were happy but cautiously skeptical of this second restoration that they had seen in as many years. Nevertheless, there was dancing and mithai and lots of it.

I got the chance to visit the Chief Justice house in Islamabad too and it was a joyous spectacle. What was even more interesting was that the Chief was actually meeting people that came in the house, ordinary people, lawyers, rights activists, workers, everyone. This, I think, was a gesture of extreme humility from a person who had fast become a symbol of national respect and defiance. These were brief handshakes but still it was incredible.

Outside, there were camera crews from every news channel and demonstrators from different political parties as well as the lawyers. A unusual thing that happened around 6 pm, a jaloos of PPPP workers arrived at the CJ House, led by Nargis Faiz Malik and leaders from the twin cities, the workers holding placards and posters of President Zardari chanted in favour of the Chief Justice. Almost, 10 minutes later, MSF also arrived at the scene, a group of almost 50 workers and students. Things grew tense as the young lings of MSF demanded the PPPP lower the posters of Zardari while the workers of PPPP tried to egg them on by shoving those posters in their faces. A tirade of opposite sloganeering started and some elder PPPP representatives intervened and later the police made a cordon between these recent rival parties. But things were getting drastic when Ather Minallah intervened and calmed the nerves of the Muslim League workers and prevented a clash.

Later in the night, GEO tv celebrated in front of their office in Blue Area, by holding a live concert of the new revolutionary youth band, Laal. Laal, fronted by vocalist Shahram Azhar and Taimur Rahman on lead guitar, with Waqar Rahman is the talk of the town these days with their impressive debut album Umeed-e-Sahar. Their compositions of revolutionary poems and songs by the greats Habib Jalib, Faiz Ahmed Faiz and even Aitezaz Ahsan are truly brilliant and listening to them live was indeed a treat, coupled by the fact that the red communist flag was waved in front of the stage by CMKP members attending the event and amid shouts of “Surkh hai, Surkh hai, Asia Surkh hai!” this was a remarkable event. It was attended by a great number of isloo’ites, most of who were from the active civil society of Islamabad or were political youth from the PTi and others. It was a great success as the rebellious hymns were able to incite the audience to the core. One and all could feel the revolutionary vibe in their hearts as “Umeed-e-Sahar ki baat karo” blasted off the speakers. Hamid Mir and GEO reporters were seen swooning to the tunes and the audience at times appeared visibly awed by the potent force hurled at them by the powerful lyrics sung to perfection by Shahram Azhar who despite a sore throat put up a fantastic show. The celebrations are going to continue over the next few days especially at the Judges’ enclave which will be the hub of activity but for now, let’s hope what’s been said is actually implemented too by the government this time.

Some photos from the CJ House visit:

In the second from last photo, Shahram Azhar and Taimur Rahman of LAAL are performing outside the CJ House for a report of CNBC tv being filmed by Mujahid Barelvi sir. I could only find one photo of the concert that night courtesy pakistan metablogs.

What dreams may come...

If the long march succeeds and the judiciary is indeed restored, I wonder where we go from there.

Once the people who have no regard for justice themselves (the mian brothers) start fighting for justice and proclaim to sacrifice their lives for the common man from behind a sheet of bullet proof glass, its time to hit the panic button.

Honorary mention for hypocrisy goes to Altaf 'bhai', who you can count upon to come up with a new jackass comment, especially when the nation absolutely doesnt need it. We're all standing on the brink of anarchy and all the fella can come up with is a blinkin' "sindh dharti" comment. Where did that come from, Im still wondering.

I'd also like to condemn the government for its role in creating this mess of things when indeed things could have been handled so much more easily, either one way or the other. But the ultimate one who suffered was the common man, the laborer who lost his daily wages while the nation was embroiled in the high and mighty quest for justice and restoration of judiciary.

I was hopeful when democracy was restored, but that was a very big let down, sure what with all the recession, the huge burden of expectations and the need of time to make an impact it was hard, but even if they didnt pretend to have an inch of something resembling spine, they could at least have been responsible (for instance, how hard is it for all the offices of the govt. to come up with the same answer to a question)

The question that we need to ask now is that does the judiciary reopen cases against the politicians, the very people who fought for them and those who eventually restored them, or do they buckle under the pressure and let the masses down, again. I reckon its going to be the latter, but its one opinion that Id be glad to be wrong of.

|'d jot down as such what i feel...

Hussain transfigured this bloggy thingy into a diary, i make a hell exhaust fan outta it...

Recently i've been afflicted by deadly contagious scabies. its a hell pricking thing; whole body blistered with sort of rusty reddish spots... and the funny thing about this ailment is that at night it feels like a thousand needles pricking every pore of the body... man it feels so horrible after writing so much on demise that pain is the prerequisite to death... how would it be felt...

all the apothecaries in the world have started malfunctioning... some say its coffee side-effects... some say i drink too mush (yes drinking means drinking...) like over use of drugs... soem even say that i've spoiled my skin and i'd end up suffering from leprosy...

and antidote is a sort of cream, and when applied, it excites the fungi, they start pricking the skin again... probably they start dancing when they feel the cream... (probably flick from a bugs' life would know better)...

Aaaaarghhhhhh it is caused by a mite... oh fuck! mites are living on my epidermis... and i searched the pathetic cases of people afflicted by this horrible disease... so disgusting that i would rather die rather than letting it spread further...

All this has created a tense situation in my mind... and i'm foreseeing my future which i dont even want to imagine.... but dont worry... keep on enjoying....

Long March 2009 - First Day -

The Lawyer's Long March for restoration of Judiciary in Pakistan found itself a nunder-estimated yet formidable partner in the PML (N) after the disqualification of the Sharif brothers. The elder Sharif, in my opinion, can never become a politician, probably because he is too much of a goof. However, he set out on an allegation-protest reaction that was initially met by many, including me, as just speeches that could never transpire into reality primarily because the PML(N) workers are not famous, and maybe not well-suited, for the kind of street agitation that Nawaz Sharif was demanding of them. But, just when every one was writing them off, they found unexpected help in the Central Government, who panicked at the resilient calls by the lawyers and the leading political party of Punjab and fucked up big time by closing down, well, almost everything. They barricaded and closed the connecting roads between Sindh and Punjab, isolated various cities. Tried to close down roads in Lahore, the route of the long march to Rawalpindi. Blocked out every main road in Rawalpindi/Islamabad and somehow pumped blood into the movement by going on and trying to arrest its leaders.

Final, it was 15th March, the day the long marchers were going to leave Lahore for Islamabad, and just when it was needed, the inexplicable happened. Some protesters impossibly made it to the Lahore High Court to join those who were already locked inside the building the night before and had broken the locks to come out and together these managed to keep a wildly aggressive police force at bay in one of the most heroic displays of the Lawyer's movement since its inception two years ago. The numbers soon multiplied and GPO chowk, Lahore, became the focal point for a massive struggle between the long marchers and the police. The protestors braved a ferocious onslaught of tear gas and hurled stones at the police. They would retreat and regroup to tease the law-enforcers. Meanwhile, at half past noon, Nawaz Sharif came out all guns blazing, stormed out of his house in Model Town and his caravan, flanked with a couple hundred supporters, literally ran over the extensive blockades placed around his house and the block and went storming through Kalma Chowk en route to GPO chowk. This I think was the turning point of the day. Thousands of political workers, regardless of their party affiliations, joined this ever-growing caravan along the way and the police, meekly, gave way. Aitezaz Ahsan, the charismatic leader of the Lawyer's movement, broke house arrest to rendezvouz at the Lahore High Court. By the time this is being written, Nawaz Sharif and the long march had left Lahore, for the GT road to head for Rawalpindi. News is coming in that in the wee hours of 16th March when a showdown is expected in Rawalpindi, the Chief justice might be restored and the barricades lifted.

Undeniably, 15th March 2009, belonged to the people of Lahore. It was their day, and while Nawaz Sharif was finally able to grow a pair of balls there, here in my hometown, Rawalpindi, things were almost dead. All main entry and exit points were sealed and bloceked with huge containers and movement was restricted to Islamabad as well. There were a few incidents during the day, though. Most notably, Shahbaz Sharif sneaked in to Rawalpindi last night and escaped arrest during the day as well. Javed Hashmi was arrested after addressing the Islamabad High Court bar association, Imran Khan escaped arrest and Hamid Mir reported that hundreds of political workers had taken refuge in the Margalla Hills!

There might be no Second day of this long march but in any case, here's some photos of Rawalpindi on the first day.

This, above, is a shot of the Ali Nawaz Chowk, on Rawal Road, that was the first route I took to reach Islamabad and this is the first blockade I faced.

Next, Rawal Chowk, again, police and barricades. No way through to Murree Road. And, below, the road to Islamabad was again closed off at the 6th Road crossing!

The Double Road also leads in to Islamabad. Here the blockades had caused people to come on the road and play cricket as there was no traffic. See the blocking containers in the upper left of the photo.

And similraly, all roads leading in and out of the city were sealed off.

It is being rumored that PM Gillani will announce restoration of Chief Justice shortly, thereby probably ending the Long March and putting a successful end to the Lawyer's movement. If not, then, to the streets tomorrow!!

Through a glass...

So, turning the blog into a kind of diary, hey! its been done before, I start my rant...

After enjoying the pixar shorts (presto being one of them) I decided to give dreamworks shorts a chance too and they are even awesomer...! The secrets of the furious five (history of the tigress and co., narrated by the dragon warrior, panda :D) was excellent, but even nicer was to see the penguins from madagascar return, upto their regular antics, very good entertainment overall...

Then there was the matter of monty python and the holy grail, I hadnt watched it but now that Ive done so, Im a lifelong fan. Its British humor at its best, the steady flow of irrelevent (and irreverent) humor is especially hilarious...I also tried a classic British comedy drama of the 80's, nightingales it was called, didnt like it too much though so dumped it after the first 2 episodes!

Vivaldi's 4 seasons are awesome, anyone with an ear for classical music should give it a try, Ive been trying different variants of it over the last few weeks and it continues to grow on you...

The fyp remains slumbering, Ive got 3 chapters on mimo to read by monday so hoping that the long march thingy kinda stretches into the indefinite future...:D

PRESTO

Presto the great magician and his cute rabbit Alec... a short of 5 minutes, indeed a time-saving humor... their unintentional feats are far more cute than the tricks that presto tried to practice before the show. Presto, in his own pride, doesnt behave well with cute alec, and alec (sort of) avenges him in the show and kills his ego... extremely lovable clip and a must-watch thingy, kyun waqas?

Review: Privileged (drama series)

Genre: comedy, romance, glamour and drama.

The plot: The story revolves around Megan Smith, a down-on-her-luck Yale graduate who takes up a tutor's job with the Bakers, a rich and influential family (if you can call two sisters and their aloof grandma a family)

The good: The show was good in the characterization department, Megan is haunted by her own rules and nervous tension and always seems on the edge of a breakdown but still manages to be pretty cute at times. The Baker sisters have good chemistry between them (Rose is particularly adorable). The stories are okay although there are a few too convenient coincidences.

The bad: It is not sure whether the show is over or there will be a second season at this time. As things stand there are a few too many loose ends for my liking.

The ugly: The show has an important character (the chef at Bakers place) who is gay and his love affair is also followed in the series. A few scenes I found to be particularly cringe worthy (nothing too explicit, thankfully) but then, I am biased, so just thought about putting in a word of warning!

I'd rate it between 7 and 7.5 on a scale of 10...(7.2/10)

Image: (c) 2008 The CW Channel/CBS Broadcasting Inc.

The day of Resurrection

And thus spoke God to the spirit of man, “Rise now, O spirit, and take the mantle of flesh and bone” and the spirit cowered in the shadows, crying, “You are no God of mine, my God is benevolent and omniscient and not a bent old man in tattered raiment”. Then the old man threw back the hood of his raiment and laughed thunderously, a laugh that shook the foundations of the hallway where spirit and God stood. A light emanated from the formerly tattered cloak that hung to Him in rags and the spirit gazed in undisguised wonder at the shimmering aurora in which God now stood.

“Come and sit with me awhile, tell me about your sojourn in the forgotten lands…” God smiled at the spirit that hovered in great agitation some paces away. “I’d speak about my time if you would tell why you forsook man and the secret of the kaleidoscope…” the spirit countered.

Nevertheless, the spirit followed God up the steps to his oaken chair and hovered near His side. Sometime later, God snapped out of his reverie and clapped his hands, seeming genuinely pleased, “Always drove a hard bargain, did man, well now that you are in my halls, maybe it is better that I tell you everything…”

He started, “You know, all those religions on the world that you created, I really enjoyed most of them, they were all true, somewhat. Sometimes I was the sun while at others the moon, at one time, I was even the fire in the heart of the Tree of Drusanthia and often I was conceived to be omniscient and omnipotent. To some extent, I was all this and to another greater extent, I wasn’t. While man was whining in the comfort of his home about God having forsaken him after every calamity, while I was sweating after saving him from half a dozen other calamities.”

The spirit interrupted, “What calamities, couldn’t you just have avoided all of them?”

God laughed, “You mean just like that, with the snap of my fingers? I couldn’t, even if I wanted to; there are other powers that I answer to. You see, I am not alone, I am one of a race of colonials, we all have our territories demarcated, but oft times we attack each other’s territories by virtue of our people and what humans, in their latter years, so fondly called technological progress. That was how Earth ended, didn’t you know”, here God paused and looked at the spirit in astonishment.

The spirit shuffled, as if in great unease, before replying, “We didn’t know much about the end of the world, it was, well, sudden, there were these explosions and earthquakes and it seemed the ground beneath our feet had split into two, they said the spirit of the world was dead. It was somewhat different from all the visions of apocalypse that humans had painted.”

God was silent for awhile then as if pondering a question of great gravity. Finally he sighed and looked up, “During all these years of human evolution, I was planning for multiversal dominion, but humans were easily swayed and when finally human race was almost ready, the other races were far ahead already and that was it really, the end of the world.”

The spirit was bemused. “So you mean to say that it was all a war of domination?” the spirit demanded incredulously.

God replied, with a twinkle in his eye, “But you should know better dear spirit, it is your nature as much as it is mine, bloodshed and gullibility…”

The spirit asked somewhat weakly, “And what about the kaleidoscope…”

“This kaleidoscope that you see around me? Oh its nothing, just a piece I saved from the Northern Lights, it took quite a bit of my time to create that in the beginning, very pretty, eh?”

The spirit silently turned away and floated away with faltering steps away from the hallway, God stroked his chin knowingly with a gleam in his eye, “How easily deceived, oh, how easily…”

Beginnings

There is something about beginnings. About the first step. Sometimes, it's the hesitation stemming from unpredictable consequences, from the fear of the unknown. Sometimes it's the sheer determination that comes with a principled stance, the potent lure of bold actions and unpromised glory. But once the wheel is set in motion, the dice rolled, momentum gained, things don't remain as magical as they once were. I remember reading somewhere that Albert Camus once said, "All great deeds and all great thoughts have a ridiculous beginning". It makes me smile, because that's what we're going to be: ridiculous. Laughable at times, at times absurd and dark but creative always. And if greatness follows, well, the more the merrier!