When I saw Music die.

In tales had I heard that, far on horizon,
you can see Music play on a fortunate day.
So I set out to test serendipity and there was he
but Fortune had just finished running her most callous play.

Blood kept oozing out of his gashes,
he was stabbed in scores.
He kept the tune going uninterrupted,
all the pain in the world wouldn’t stammer his chords.

It wasn’t a song about mercy ,
nor about vindication from I could tell.
hands but strumming the strings vigorously,
a song of grim by a minstrel from hell.

On his strings they were running,
an array of free flowing bright red pearls.
may be the abysmal addition made it more enchanting,
meanwhile, wounds expectorate, blood hurls.

Life was but giving up on him, on knees he fell,
the instrument was struck the last time, giving out a loud thud,
“They cut me for worthless paper, music to them is just sound”
with this he closes eyes and goes into eternal sleep
leaving nothing, just but silence to weep.

Satisfaction Guaranteed (Short Story)

“Motherfuckers, these sadistic corporate whores” yelled Mike on the top of his voice, I lay there without even raising a brow as the fear of him assaulting my time with his rants always remains engrossed within but still being courteous as I was, I uttered a soft “Why?” and before those words could leave my mouth he had started-“ Bastards again activated an unwanted service, this time the devil is ‘Daily Astrology’, firstly who invented this shit of a science or whatever it is, I had a Maths exam last week and in the paper it read “you will outshine your counterparts in every field, today is your day”, Yes, undoubtedly it was my day, but of being brutally sodomized by an otherwise worthless piece of paper, makes me tremble when I think of those 3 hours, gave away that evil parchment to bhelpuri wala and these soul sucking bastards have compelled me to spend 30 bucks on the shit, Fuck Astrology!, Fuck Vaayutel! , let me call the customer care. Oh! Turns out I have just one freaking rupee left in my account and these Dementors charge even for calling the customer services ,can I borrow your phone?”

“When has my denying ever stopped you, go ahead”, I mumbled and went back to savouring the sweet melodies by Advaita. “These people must be having secret tournaments to decide who would make the most complex labyrinth of customer care service , so fucking arduous to get to talk to one of their executives as if they are the fucking Queen of England and we are their petty subjects and now it’s almost been over a minute and this mechanical whore keeps telling me that my call is important to her, then why doesn’t anyone pick up the fucking phone.” Mike kept whining.
“Hello!”
“Yeah , to fuck with your fake gratitude man, jot down my number and tell me why did you steal money from my account ,9876543210.”
“What the fuck man?, The lowlife just hung up on me” ,I shook my head to make him believe that I cared.
“I’m not giving up on this easily  ,let me just juice my phone up with adequate moolah and by the time I’m done with them their ears would be regretting that they ever picked my call.”, said Mike with that grin on his face that always makes him look constipated.
After 27 minutes
“Hello, what the fuck you ingrate, one of your Oompa Loompas  from your fucking Apokolis hung up on me the last time I called to file a complaint of siphon.”
“Yes, I will lower my tone and be careful with my words when you’ll return my fucking money you son of a bitch”
“Yeah, this is the number I tried filing a complaint about you soulless pederast, I’ll fucking drag your ass to the court and fillet . . . . .. hello? hello?”
“Fucker hung up on me again”, and just as he finished that line , his phone beeped twice indicating the receiving of two consecutive text messages and I still resent that I did not get a camera then and treasured that look on the face of Mike , fumbling , he tried was trying to find solace by grabbing the other end of the couch,and I, out of curiosity snatched the cell-phone away from his hands, there were two messages received in the thread:
“Ithe-uthe,hum hai Kutte by Hiney Singh has been activated as your Ear-tune. You have been charged Rs.60 for the service. Thank You.”

“Thank You for contacting Vaayutel, hope you were satisfied with your interaction with Amit, we at Vaayutel work hard to have your Satisfaction Guaranteed”

I fell off the couch laughing.

Of Night and Its Music.

                                 It’s way past midnight and sleep eludes me still and I’m still trying to find the ‘elusive’ in the night, I so desperately want to talk to her but she is quiet as she always is, pacifying the paramours of the light, a bunch of ingrates, who would just get up and walk away from her lap and she would close her eyes and disappear, being encapsulated in the illumination, up till then I accompany her and she, me.
Current Track – Speak To Me/Breathe | Pink Floyd
Pink Floyd has always been my sleeping aid ever since I discovered the existence of the band and their music, serene as it grows.
Nights are so much longer than days, which on the contrary slip like free flowing sand. The hands of the clock are just amusing as a mime's, quiet as anything but say so much, they mock you  and you can only stand there helpless, smiling on the misery of your existence bounded by this illusion which people call time.
Current Track – No Quarter | Led Zeppelin
Now, you can just feel your head getting so heavy with emotions as Page starts to pluck those strings  and explodes in effusion when Plant starts to sing and that pretty much explains why Led Zepp is one of the most influential bands in the history of music and I light my last cigarette.

Cigarettes are an insomniac’s best friend, there are so many answers you can sap out of the smoke you blow. Life   could be a figurative cigarette, you start from being just out of the box new , your life essence then sucked while you burn and turn into ash eventually. It impeccably plays so many different roles at different times, sometimes a mate, sometimes a muse and sometimes a whore: costing you much and fucking you in return.


Current Track – Way Out Of Here| Porcupine Tree
Now, if you are seeking inspiration or motivation from music PTree wouldn’t provide you with it but they surely give you reasons to fall in love with it. If music is addictive, they are fucking heroine. Their music just punctures your skin and enters your blood stream, pushing you into a state of ecstasy.

I might not actually fit into the definition of a junkie and I’m not but curiosity drove me through those unlit driveways but there’s no remorse at all. Drugs shouldn’t be considered or treated as an agent to escapism, they wouldn’t save you from your real world troubles, to make things worse they could only amplify them, apparently they amplify everything, letting you experience a heightened state of emotion you already are in.

Current Track – The End | The Doors
The thing about Morrison is ,he’s inexplicable, he’s this enigmatic figure you cannot just figure out, but that makes you adore him even more, music is charismatic, expressive, enchanting and gripping, his voice anchors in the deepest corners of your heart, more like a guided meditation which ends in pure bliss.
Rest In Peace Morrison! But I know your voice never will.
 

Posers,Posers,Posers. . .

Now this is not an attempt on belittling, though if going through this ,makes you feel even a tinge of disparagement then I would feel like the purpose of writing this post has been served.

So, where do I even begin with? Me obviously, as before pointing a finger at any individual you have to deal with the other three directing towards you. Yes, I am a stern follower of hypocrisy, but in my defense, evolution demands it, now in a world with so much to binge on you cannot expect to be all milk and no water, behavioral adulteration has now transformed into a cult these days (didn’t get it? I was expecting you won’t, take the hint). The point being it falls under the circumference of the conventional ‘wrong’ but is acceptable to an extent. Personally, I think everything that does not fall under the realms of mortal sin is more or less acceptable. So, that is how I justify my social anomalies through my philosophical bends, what is your excuse? (I know you don’t have any, caught you with your pants down, didn’t I?). So, now with your permission I would like to take a derisive detour and stick the boot right in.

Now, I know many of you practice and participate in certain things just to get the approval of a certain group of individuals in the society, most of them to be precise  ( ‘participate’ being just a general form of the verb here which might range anything from a ‘do’ to the vigorous forms of ‘ass kissing’). Well apparently those have been typecast-ed by you as outcasts and social pariahs save themselves the trouble but in contrary to my tone I very much appreciate the amount of work you guys put in to get accepted by your peers which axiomatically turns you into a piece of work. (you see, I turned it around) and the phenomenon is omnipresent and undeniable in any field or sector of life you search in.

So, while we are on the subject, I wanted to point out some of my favorite categories and throw a handful of reproach at them. I know I might be slammed later for the classification but what the hell :D

• The Aesthetically Deprived – Now , there is nothing wrong with the way you look buddy and experimenting with asinine colors is only making you look like a cross between Willy Wonka and an androgynous Lady Gaga. Be the way you are, get comfortable with your attire and if even then anyone judges you , then he/she is the sheriff of Shmucksville and can go suck skunk-piss.

•The Pseudo-Intellectuals – Now, let me make this thing as clear as a bell, out of all these cries for attention, yours is the most desperate. Trust me ,you yourself aren’t aware of the point you are trying to make. I know you don’t have anything in your lives to look forward to but you have to understand, you can only flaunt it if you have got it and when you don’t the repercussions are  so humiliating to be even discussed, my heart just fills with pity when I see you guys trying so hard.

• The ‘Kewl Krawd’ – This group is the most diversified of all and is divided into so many sub-groups that  they cannot be defined even with the help of abstract algebra.
First of all you need stop using that ‘SMS lingo’ of yours everywhere, using a ‘u’ in ‘coming’ makes it way too inappropriate, not ‘kewl’.
Stop treating social media as your personal diary or hourly scrapbook, So much narcissism is unacceptable, changing the color of your glasses  wouldn’t change the face the almighty has bestowed you , deal with it.

• The Bullies – You fucktards need to get your shit straight, your insecurities are eating you away and you are just one step away from becoming violent sociopaths (O wait, too late!). Find a more suitable way to vent the frustration of having an inadequate wiener or erectile dysfunction.

• The Snooty Boy/Girl –These are the people who have been blessed with an above average knowledge(self-proclaimed expertise) in their respective fields.Now I know you guys know your shit way well but that doesn’t give you the prerogative to dance over my ass, try this very strange medicine called ‘humbleness’, wouldn’t hurt much(your egos to be precise). Just remember my poop smells and so does yours, try taking a sniff the next time you are having difficulty in comprehending the concept of equality.

I could actually go on to never stop but that wouldn’t stop you guys from being the colossal ass-hats you currently are and without your presence I might stop feeling better about myself. So, Adios muchachos and keep rocking. ;)

X+Y Chronicles : Attempt on Appeasement

So, here I was holding the mark-sheet in my hands which was struggling for its life and sniggering from inside was my arch-enemy which looked quite contended with the two zeroes right besides it (He thinks it is adding up to his value, what a sucker!). On my way back home ,while I pondered about the implications and ramifications(most of which were about escaping the inevitable pyrotechnics of ass-kickings  that were to follow) and nothing devious came to my mind(I guess its about time I stop listening to R.E.M), and everywhere I look I find the darkness spreading and engulfing light of the logical reasoning and converting it to a synonym of mathematical reasoning ,it has been spreading like a malignant cancer, corrupting the system with its numbers and operators, making itself look and be perceived as convenient(convenient my ass!)  And it’s incurable now (bravo! what an epiphany).

I tried checking the time and the numbers were sneering inside from the watch, I tried to relieve myself of the starvation at an eating joint, a big number was smack-banged onto my face, I tried to register my existence in the world and I was stamped with a number, I am nothing but a number, We all are merely numbers intermingling and living in a labyrinth now controlled by Lord Mathematics, that was my moment of articulacy. I had no chance against this overlord and somehow or the other it has successfully made a way through my life-line and corrupted it too (ah, the horror).

The first thought that came to me was all my life I have fought this callous tyrant and I will never succumb to his ways and die as martyr but saner minds prevail. So, I have decided to actually mend my ways with him and reach on an appeasement in which I will have to study and he will endow me with numbers that would redeem me from my present condition. Seems like a sweet deal, let us just see how it turns out be (and f.y.i, I’m still getting my ass-kicked).

Cries of Redemption

So I wish to clinch thee, keep you as my own,
but would only give a gloaming aftermath.
assuaging it would be to let you shine,
and me,a mere benefactor of your resplendence.

The melody I could hum but dare cantillate,
my voice unworthy, my tongue blasphemous.
Bellows my soul in agony though,
my incapabilities morphing into my chastisements.

No spirit can now quench, the intoxication I yearn for,
 esplanade to the Elysian fields, your eyes.
and a self-abominating addict they have stamped me,
and I derisively stamped their verdict a euphemism.

Bereft I lay in the harrowed lands of melancholy,
and eyes bloodless,waiting for my saviour.
Beseech you for redemption, my remorseless deity,
do not let them go unheard,a heathen’s devoted cry for salvation.