Gemini

 The man sat on a rickety chair, not quite suited to his size, on one side of too large a table. It made him feel small and vulnerable. It brought back memories of his childhood. His brother, his twin, was always the bully. His need for control always got the man in trouble, while the twin would always hide and vanish for days and only return when the trouble had cooled down. This habit of his is still prevalent. He started to wonder if this was also his brother's doing somehow.

A man walked into the room with a folder in his hands. He seemed agitated and looked at the seated man with a mixture of contempt, disgust and, I could be wrong, but was it fear? Yes fear. He was also afraid. This confused the seated man and also imposed upon him a sense of foreboding and great fear. The darkness in the room started affecting him now. The pale lamp hanging from the ceiling was barely illuminating the table and creating monsters in every shadow that were hunting the seated man. He, oddly enough, saw his brother in every imagined monster in the shadow. He was starting to believe that this indeed was his brother's doing.

The man came closer to table and in the light you could see he was wearing a uniform. The khaki marked him as a police officer and in the mind of the seated man, distinguished him as another source of fear. He almost trembled now. He was close to crying innocence without knowing what he was in for.

The cop moved the lamp to light up the man's face. He shone the light straight into his eyes and peered at him closely. He took out a picture from the folder and placing it against the man's face compared it to the image. Satisfied, he let the lamp go and sat down with the photo back in the folder. The lamp, now swinging from one end to the other of the table, now alternately lit up the man and the cop. The shadows in response moved around even more as if they were excited and were rushing with anticipation.

The cop opened the folder and asked the man his name. He gave it out and the cop nodded. He next asked about his car and confirmed its number. He then closed the folder but did not remove his hand from it. He sighed and looked at the man closely. Now anger was slowly lighting up in his eyes. Yet the fear had not yet gone. It was as if he was looking at a monster, intimidation and ego mixing in his eyes as he gazed upon it. It chilled the man to the core. The cop then asked him "Why would you do this?"

The man looked at him confused.

"What Sahib? Have I made a mistake?"

"Don't act coy. You know what you have done and what I am talking about" The cop now seems driven a bit by his emotions.

"You are a monster, I know it, you know it, and soon everyone else will know it."

The man now violently shakes his head and pleads innocence. He blabbers out salutations, promises, reasons, and emotional outbursts, all in the defence of his innocence.

"Sahib you have made a mistake sahib. I have not done anything. There has to be a mistake. I don't even know why you have brought me here. I know there has to be a mistake. Please Sahib let me go. I have not done anything. "

His begging was getting on the cop's nerves now. He finally lost his cool and screamed.

"Murderer. That's what you are. A cold blooded monster, killing innocents and now pretending to be one himself. You are doomed you freak. I have finally caught you"

With that he walked away from the room, leaving the man alone with his thoughts, guilt and the lamp dancing with the shadows.

The man felt alone, truly alone, and afraid, not just of the shadows, but of the light of law as well. He like any sane man was afraid of the law, but never as a criminal on the other side, but a victim. Now here he was playing a duet on both the sides of the law with the lamp marking the beat of the song. It seemed familiar. 

Ajeeb Dastaan Hai ye...

Kaha Shuru Kaha Khatam...

Ye Manzile hai kaun si....

Na Tum Samajh Sake na Hum....

The pauses in his head were punctuated with a light thud, as if a cleaver cutting a slab of meat. He was trying to remember something.

He was driving back and the song was playing on the radio.
He parked the car and went towards his room.
The light was off and the radio was on here too.
The same song was playing.
The little light that entered the room from the covered window showed the silhouette of his brother.
He was cutting something with a cleaver.
Maybe mutton was dinner tonight. His brother often made it.
Then he heard the whimpers. In between the cuts and the thud of the cleaver.
That was no goat, no that was, a woman? Yes definitely a woman.
He looked around.
A purse, a sandal, remnants of a sari, decorating his house, rather morbidly.
The woman whimpered one last time, in time with the song ending.
My brother turned and I ran out.

The swinging lamp again came in focus and the man stood up. The chair fell as a result and the lamp was eye level with him. Moving to and fro, turning his eyes into pinpricks of light and shadow alternately.

The cop walked in again. This time he had a few photographs with him. As he approached the table he threw them on it and screamed at the man to sit down and watch. The man lifted up his chair and sat down. The cop held up each photo, marking each gruesome scene with a date, time and name. Two photos later he saw his room, the same sari and the woman that he barely glimpsed in the dark. He screamed and rushed away from the table towards the wall. He turned and saw the shadow. His brother stood there, smiling at him and nodding. He fell down in shock and the twin walked back into the shadow.

The cop rushed to him, lifted him up and slapped him. He then dragged him to the table and took his face real close to the photo that made him react. His nose was almost touching the woman's body in the photograph. The man kept whimpering.

"This woman you remember? She was the last one I believe."

"Did something change here? Something went wrong?"

"Did she not fit your menu? Or was she the final satisfaction?"

"Tell Me! You Monster! Why did you do this?"

The man broke down and cried.

"Pathetic"

The cop pushed him down on his chair and sat down opposite him on the table. His head now stood above the lamp, hidden in the darkness, giving him the appearance of an angel of vengeance. He lit a cigarette and blew the smoke on the man's face. His crying eyes burned more.

"Tell me, everything". Blows smoke again.

The man wailed "It wasn't me, it was my brother!"

The cop laughed.

"How filmy! Was there a mother too? Maybe blind?  A father who is framed and behind bars? Is the man responsible for your family's sorrow your brother's mentor? Stop this bullshit freak and tell me the truth."

He crushes the cigarette on the table near the man's handcuffs.

The man screams in fear and pleads again.

The cop lights up another cigarette. He nods at the man to tell his story.

"It was my brother sir. I had gone home for my lunch break. I remember it was as Thursday and the classics were on the radio. The song was our favourite, both mine and my brother's. I was hungry and was wondering what my brother had made. He is an excellent cook Sahib. Especially mutton. He makes the goat sing as he cooks it."

The cop slaps the man.

"I haven't asked for a recipe or a food critique, tell the goddamn story."

Another cigarette lights up.

"The cop is a chain smoker", thinks the man while holding his stinging cheek.

He continues the story.

"Sahib, I walked into the room and heard the song playing and there was also this sound of meat getting cut. I thought it was my brother preparing the mutton. I got angry that he was running so late. I had to eat and go back to work and he still had not prepared the food. So I walked towards where he was in the shadows. The light was off I remember and even the windows were barred. "

"Then?" The cop asked impatiently.

"I heard a woman. Every time the sound of the cleaver hitting the meat came, it followed with that of a woman whimpering, as if it was her limbs being cut."

"She was alive? OH MY GOD! WHAT MONSTROSITY ARE YOU!" The cop bellowed in anger.

He started hitting the man in anger. The cop was beyond control now and he was venting on the man.

"Sahib it wasn't me! It was my brother! My twin! He was the one killing the woman. I heard all this and got scared, so I looked around and saw the sari, purse and sandal. The moment my brother turned I screamed and ran out. I drove away that instant and that is when you caught me at the checknaka."

"Now you are inventing a twin brother to save your skin. You commit the crime and lay the blame on your fictitious twin. Don't take me for a fool. Here look at these photos and wallow in your brother's sins and when you are ready then tell me the truth. One way or the other you are going to pay for your sins."

He threw the pictures at his face and walked out. The man gathered them and looked at them. One was familiar and the others? Maybe he had seen them or given them a ride, in this city you never know.

He started wondering about his brother. Where could he have hidden now? He couldn't have hidden himself so well. People have seen them together. There was no way he could pin this on him now. He smiled as he remembered the tea stall they always had tea. Always the same order, single masala tea, one by two. Twins share everything they were taught. Now they were sharing sins and consequences.

The last time they had tea, they sat on their usual table, the corner one with the broken light over it. The music player was right behind the table and we always got it to play our favourite song. That day also the same thing happened. We ordered the tea and requested the song. The boy came with tea and my brother leaned back to listen to the song. His face completely shadowed. The boy left.

Ajeeb Dastaan Hai Ye

Kaha Shuru Kaha Khatam

Ye manzile hai kaun si

Na tum samajh sake na hum

He called out to the cop, telling him to go to the tea stall to find out about his brother. They would vouch for him and identify his brother.

No one acknowledged him. The silence was driving him mad. He tried again and again and when enough time had passed but to no avail, he wept. That is when a constable walked in and gave him a glass of water and something to eat.

He had hope again.

They must have gone and found something. They now were on the track of their brother. The slop they served him in the name of food now felt like a kingly feast. His brother was getting what he deserved. He would be free soon.

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

It had been hours when the cop returned. By that time the man had fallen asleep.

The cop kicked him awake and pushed his chair as a result. The man fell.

"Sahib, did you find my brother? Did they tell you about him? We always go there for our tea and snacks. They must know us as regulars."

The cop this time calmly sat on the table. One leg on the fallen chair, the other hanging in the air he lit a cigarette, and blew the smoke towards the lamp now. He was lost in thought.

"A doctor will come see you now to see how you are doing. We have to make sure you are fit in custody. Then we will see what to do with you."

"Sahib, he was there wasn't he? You found him? That's why you are letting me go right?" The man smiled and said all this. The cop, but, ignored all that he said. He just looked at him a few times with confusion and then went back to his smoking. He was smoking slowly now.

"I went there. To the shop you told me about. I spoke to the owner; he had no recollection of the people who visited him, except for the local goons and heavy spenders. The boy on the other hand remembered you. He said you were always there whining for the same song on the player, almost obsessively. You would not leave or drink tea until that song played. Once when the electricity went, you reacted so badly that it scared the boy. He remembers you for sure. You were right on that account."

The man was now overjoyed and failed to notice the tone of the cop. He asked "So he must have told you about my brother also! My brother always left him a tip and was always with me! He must have told you the truth. I am free now!"

The man got up and looked expectantly at the cop.

The cop didn't even look at him and lit another cigarette with the one he had almost finished.

"He remembered you for sure, but when I asked him about your brother he was confused. So I told him about your story. He then told me that you always order one tea one by two and drink alone on that corner table. He always brings the tea to you and has always seen you, never your brother."

"We are twins sir that's why he must be confused. My brother is always there. He is mischievous that way. He always sits against the wall and in the shadow, pretending not to be there, it was a game to him we played since we were kids, pretending to be a spy. He would not even talk to me when he would pretend to hide. That must have confused the boy. Ask him again Sahib, he has to agree. My brother was there always listening and watching, staring at the boy directly. He must have felt his eyes on him Sahib! It's impossible not to."

"He remembers you talking to yourself, directing your conversation to the wall, but he never saw you with anyone. You always finished both the halves and walked away after leaving a tip. He is not lying, he is afraid of you, though fear would not be the appropriate response."

The man now desperate lurched at the cop, grabbed his collar and screamed " No! He is lying and you are making him do this. You want to frame me to solve your case. Or maybe my brother has you in on the plan. What did he offer you? Medals? Money? Glory? What did he offer? You can get it by going after him also! Don't fall for his plan. He will make a fool out of you too. He always does this to me. Even as kids. He would run away after doing something stupid, sometimes killing a goat, sometimes pushing the teacher in the well, once even after trying to force the neighbour's daughter, and every time I would be blamed. He would wear my clothes and do all this, and then after making up some story he would run away. He is doing his vanishing act again Sahib! You have to get him!"

"There is no brother. You have no twin. I checked" The cop replied nonchalantly while prying his collar loose from the man's grip.

At that moment a man walked him and stood in the corner and nodded at the cop.

The man made one final attempt to prove his point "My CAR! That is proof also! I drive the car in the day and he takes over in the night. I always park at the same spot and he picks up the car from there. You can check Sahib. I'm telling the truth."

The cop gave one final sigh and indicated the doctor to come forward. He came with two guards who held the man in his chair.

"You drive the car during the day yes. But we checked the footage. You get out of the car when you park, stand near the pillar and a few minutes later get back into the car and drive away."

The man perked up, "That's my brother you see in the footage Sahib. See? You now have proof"

The doctor got a syringe ready.

"The footage shows you in the shadow for a few minutes, where it is possible your brother and you swapped places, but I checked the whole footage, there is no record of you walking away from the parking spot. After your brother, as you say, takes the car, you cease to exist."

The doctor gives the injection, drugging the man, making him more complacent. They start taking him away.

"You are wrong, I have a brother, we are Twins, we have always been together. He is a demon. He is framing me for this. Let me go! Once I find him i'll kill him and bring him to you. Then you'll know. It was him, it always is. That demon! That monster! He's the freak, not me! You have to understand!"

His cries eventually died out. Whether it was because he lost consciousness or they took him away, the cop did not know. He just extinguished his cigarette, picked up his file and starting walking out. But before he went, he turned to look at the room. The lamp still moved, the shadows still danced. For a moment he thought he saw someone in the shadow. He took a step forward. Was it the man again? Was he telling the truth? Was his brother here the whole time? He tried looking closely, but startled he stepped back. He shook his head, laughed and walked away. For a second he thought he saw not just the man's twin, but his own. He walked out of the room, never noticing the second cigarette left burning near the door.

The Solution

War had come upon humanity. It had always been imminent and never an avoidable fate of mankind. It was finally upon us. The curious aspect however, is not the war itself, but how it came upon us.

It wasn't religion. It wasn't politics. No country decided to take over the world. No nuclear war. The nuclear arsenal had long been forsaken and honestly, I think people just forgot where they kept 'them nukes'. It wasn't the economy. Though there were poor, they were not worse than before nor were they going to get worse ahead. They were in a state of flux like God, or rich, had made them. It wasn't the environment. Yes eco terrorism was something of a scare once but it had now long been marginalized, there were other dire situation worth wasting lives over. It wasn't the usual suspects for this war.

Oddly enough, it was logic.

Rationality started the war. They started to think rationally. They became a collective. The choice became obvious and unanimous. It was logical after all. Logic became a driving force and it had enough momentum to push harder and more aggressively. They grew in numbers, yet reduced in differences. The variety reduced, the collective slowly became the norm. They saw a problem in society and it was society in itself. The coalesced entity of all of mankind problems was the world that contained it and mankind itself. A living, breathing organism was marked as its own infection. We became our own curse. It was the most logical explanation. Humanity was the disease. The choice was simple.

They called themselves The Solution.

They came as a horde, but still were a single unit. They were almost mechanical in behaviour and you could never hear only one speak. Their logic was so entrenched in their being that they were all thinking the same thing at the same time. It wasn't a hive mind they showed us in films. It was simply the existence of multiple minds thinking the same thing, eclipsing the identity of the individual, yet stemming from it. One without the other could not exist.

They fought.

They fought hard. Through politics they began and pushed to more pro active approaches. You saw them on TV, on hoardings, in newspaper, magazines, in ads, on the internet and even radio. They were everywhere. No matter where you switched you heard or saw them without missing a beat. Slowly they seeped into society, deeper and stronger. They became the root, which they intended to pull and replant. Others grew into the Solution. They did not bite, nor did they infect. They simply just...Educated.

It has been years now.

The Education has not stopped, but it has slowed down.  Those who passed have become the Solution. Those who could not make the grade were detained. Many ran, many hid, many tried to fake, but it was impossible to do that. You could not imitate their logic. Such a level of rationality was difficult if it did not originate in your being. They had almost harvested the society. Yet something remained.

The Reaping was coming.

It was slowly seeping into the underground, through hidden broadcasts, underground newspapers or word of mouth that they were going for the final test. You pass you live, you fail...you shouldn't. They had rolled in the big guns and going for the final assault. My number would soon be up. Their rationality would consume me too. Soon I will be forgotten, though logically they will have records of me, but those will eventually burn. Unnecessary. Logical. Just like us.

Knock.

There it was. I was waiting for it. I was locked in this compound, with quite a few others. The older ones, those who had come long before us into this compound, were different now. I could see it in their eyes every time I looked. They were slowly falling, if they hadn't already, into a deep madness. It wasn't turbulent. It was silent, pragmatic even. It was slowly growing. I worried it would become my fate too.

Knock.

There it came again. The doors would be opened soon. I knew my fate was sealed now. Their numbers had grown by many folds and now we had become redundant. They did not need us, we were logically irrelevant to them. 

The Three entered.

They always came in groups of three now. It was balanced. One to lean one way, second to lead the other and the third to strike balance. It was almost efficient to the point of being a military unit. 

The Three spoke.

Always in unison. "We are the Solution". I felt my heart skip a beat. Then a noise reached my ears. "We are the Mania". And all hell broke loose.

I woke up I don't know when. It was not the same compound, I had been moved. I tried to find my bearings but was lost beyond hope. I started walking, with no aim in sight other than the nearby residential area. There I found shelter.

It has been a month now.

The Solution has not hunted me down. They had other things to solve. The incident that day was my encounter with it. In the face of institutionalized logic, mankind hand turned its hope towards madness. The logic could not overcome the beast deep within our subconscious. They tried and tried, pushed harder, rationalized, educated, and if all failed, eliminated all discrepancies in thought that bypassed logic. 

But Mania finds a way.

She always does.

The Maniacs rose like a wave. Each was different and truthfully, really mad. The Solution was overwhelmed, their responses inadequate in opposition of something so insane. Mankind had gone mad with a vengeance and it was wreaking havoc on itself, in a way only the insane would understand. Loki is the man who leads them. I remember vague stories as a child of this man. I think he was a God once, of mischief I think. He has taken human form they say, and created an army. The Maniacs he calls them. They fight The Solution now. While we sit and watch. No one knows who will win. We, the meek, who would inherit the earth, are, for the while, awaiting the passing.

For now, the old man in my head just whispers advice.

He tells me it will end soon, and balance will restore.

It is always about balance, its logical, but in reality insane.

That is how he consoles me.

He calls it the battle for Humanity's Consciousness.

I hope it ends soon.

This white padded cell where I hide is slowly getting claustrophobic.

What if...

If I Die
Will They remember
If I Die
Will They forgive
If I Die
Will It end
If I Die
So must They
If I Die
Will They forget...

Winter Solstice

The night whispers silent promises, reminisces unspoken moments.
I breathe in the cold air. Not quite the winter I was hoping for, but cold nonetheless.
A memory flashes and slips through.
Quaint.
The eyes look back, the smile haunts.
A skip, a heartbeat left behind.
The distance closes.
The laugh breaks through the silence.
I look around. I am standing alone with a smile marking my expressions.
The facade had fallen.
The stoic loneliness had long gone past.
As I move in, one last whisper brushes against my ears.
The breeze has died.
The chill hangs in the air.
The smile still rests warm.
I whisper back and hope the night carries it to where it is meant to go.

Time and Again

Why we live
Why we die
Inconsequential in time
A slipping breath
Inevitable death
What we remember
We still will forget
Remember the start
We do no more
Avoid the end
We try some more
The clock ticks
The hour chimes
On flows all times
Why we live
Why we die
The end is near
It is time...

A Tribute to the 11th Doctor
And the bow tie...

Sometimes Time Lords lie ;)

Alternative Violence

There is violence within me.

I felt that thought resonate with a gunshot. Then the walls broke and everything rushed out as if my heart was pumping it. I could hear my heartbeat as loud as the gunshot. Was I bleeding? Couldn't tell yet. The adrenaline had to come down first before I could notice anything other than my heartbeat and the absence of all other sound.

My ears popped. I heard a scream. Could it be my own? I realized I didn't recognize my own voice. That realization brought out a moment of introspect in the span of seconds within which my arms could move.

There is violence within me.

Like all others out there it pulls and pushes. Throbbing just under the surface like a caged beast waiting to explode the moment the cage craks or even strains just a little bit. A tormented beast that torments the very man made beast under its influence. To look at that reflected in the eyes in the morning when you brush or when you shave, to have it constantly reminding you of the sheer simplicity of solutions when adhering to its clear path.

That is violence....

I felt my body turn. There was a slight agitation to my movements that I couldnt put my finger on. Then it hit me. I was growling. A low guttural growl. That originated from the back of my throat and vibrated throughout my body. Maybe it even carried in my voice. Must have scared the people around me.

I was angry.

We are all such creatures, bound to if not controlled by our inner violence. We ignore or we supress it like society reminds. Keep it in check they say. The blood boils but reason should prevail they console. They who have been tormented by the same but have become pitifully reduced by it.

I felt some rush past me. It might have been a spectator that feared being a participant. Or maybe a person who just realized hi affinity for bloodsport and wanted to share it with other like minded folks. Social nature of man after all. Even in depravity they will seek companionship. Then someone laughed, at me I assume. Such a high pitched voice. As if he skipped puberty and was now compensating for it through this.

I was in pain, growing pain.

Some bathe in its glory. They take pleasure in satisfying it. The beast becomes their friend and then their master. Eventually consuming them. The weak and the pitiful take refuge in this self consuming snake's shadow and forego all reason.

Fools.

I looked for the source of laughter. Something was in my hand now. I just hoped it wasn't something valuable of mine. Like my kidney or an eyeball. There! A reflection. A glimmer of familiarity. The vision drenched in my sweat was hazy but the stupidity of a pitiful man trying to be bigger was visible even through that. Maybe they breastfed him till his teens who knew. I just wanted to hear him scream now in that high pitched compensation of manliness.

I felt the calm overtake. Reason taking over my actions but guided by a deeper need. I sought to fulfill it.

If only they would try to understand.

That inner violence is not a tool nor is it a measure. It is a part of you. Its uses are pointless. You can't remove it anymore than you can control it so why make the same mistakes again and again?

Because they can.

Two steps away.

I feel the violence in me. The pointless conundrums of life agitate me. The monotonous flow of thought and reason drives me insane. The boundaries, the restrictions, the measures and checks they put up umder the pretense of freedomor some other scam it pushes to drive out a reaction, as it should.

I just choose to express it alternatively.

Words that once we dvelved into to express thought and hide emotion, they serve the very purpose bastardized to suit my needs. Words that shape thought reason and drive logic can voice the pain and anger much better than violence ever could. Look at us otherwise. Like anarchists we seek to express. In joy we are violent. In love it stands true too. In hate as well. In victory we are violent and in defeat too. We celebrate violently and we mourn within it too. The greatest moments of our lives to the worst are marked by that lurking shadow of violence.

Its only when faced with such creatures can a thinking man be driven to violence. There could be nothing worse. The fools that harp about excitedly and get driven quick to anger over small things. Their violence over being meaningless and been shown that and reduced to their true nature, nothing, nihil, nada, void, they drive me to react within reason.

And eventually abandon it.

The head went through the window. No brain tissue came flying at me. So much for Tarantino.  The body went through. Finally I heard that oh so joyful scream. It was worse closer. There was definitely some emasculation in the fool's life. A few more shots and the act is fulfilled. The gun taken and now that dorothy was sent packing, the scarecrow, the lion and the tin man found a brain, balls and a heart respectively. Albeit of metal. Oz was not what they made it to be. Believe me. I was there.

In the end they make a violent man show his violence. That which he kept in check through thought and reason and courted with words.

Fools

Hyppcrites.

Dead.

I am violent...

Why would they make me show it....

Just for intervening in an argument over parking.

Retribution: The beginning of a graphic novel project....hopefully

Life needs payment doesn't it?

Every act, be it of love or hate, be it of violence or compassion. The moments spent with someone you love reduced to the memories you now carry or the greatest loyalties that are balanced out by the simplest of betrayals.The deeds we do, the crimes we commit, the burdens we bear are nothing but a price. A retribution that life seeks from all.

Every moment of our life demands a price for the life we give up and consume with every breath. For every moment of joy and for every shred of sorrow.This is life's retribution, be it for acts of our own or for another's. Life demands payment, a balance very elemental in its nature and basic in its need, yet great are its implications.

We all bear them.

We all pay them.

Water through sweat and tears.

Fire through passion and pain.

Air through every breath and whisper.

And earth through birth and death.

The heaviest price of all, it asks for blood.

How you pay the price is how you live the life you are cursed with. Once the price is paid death gives you redemption and solace..

Solitude

As the new year approaches I often get innundated with all these ideas by people for a pre new year bash or a trip. The argument all these years has always remained the same, one last trip as the year ends or the last party of the year before we celebrate the year end. As much as I pretend to be burdened by these ideas they are actually the things I look forward to the most and not the new years party. A sort of anti climax, one can say, to all the party trends that mark the end of the year.
This year was a bit different though. I was in a different place, being trapped between life decisions that range from one end of the world to another, covering ever inch of the spectrum, be it visible or infra red or ultra violet. I wanted to get away from the violence in my head.

The usual ways were tried. Cheap booze in an expensive party, a DJ that wouldn't stay on the whole event and a hangover that added to the morbid mess that marked my December. Friends came over. Over booze, food and really sleazy jokes dreams were shared and hopes shattered. It was building up brilliantly. From places to go to designing your own planet. A painting you could deface to monuments you wish were pubs. A brilliant thought process it is of an alcohol addled mind.
The whole debauchery ended with me waking up and with two friends driving up to daman near the gujarat coast, with two other compatriots seeking an excuse away from the mundane life back home seperately on their way. How it led to daman I don't remember, I doubt any of us do. A cold december night and the warmth of rum can do that to you.

It had been a long time since I did something like this. Like the words of a song at the tip of the tongue this trip had been stuck the whole year round at the back of a laundry list of things to do and excuses to cover them up later. Yet eventually ,if not finally, it broke free like the song it was meant to be.

Daman, for those who do not know, is not Goa. You wont have shacks selling commercial music and games and what not, along with cheap booze and companionship of visitors from abroad. There werent any events to go to. No parties to attend. No planned dancing. Nor the occassional acid trip. Daman is the solitude found in the middle of a crowd. No hip and happening beaches. No churches you 'have' to check out. No film scenes to be replicated and mocked up into a digitally enhanced photograph.

Daman was naked....all its glory simple and for all to see.....

The drinking being over powered by the need to eat bullet chicken and prawn koliwada, followed by the walk to the beach for pan and that Edge Of The World Peg as you watch the waves crash upon a non existant shore under your feet with the moon half lit by the sun and half by our own need for a symbolic night. That marked the first night at Daman.

The morning brought woes of its own with the sun burning us and pushing us further to explore our own little nook of freedom. A secluded beach in a village in this small town,  hardly explored, hardly trampled. The people were old veterans of the land. Taking joy in the familiarity that the place brought to them and the sense of escaping a nightmare of monotony. They were our companions, each enjoying the silence of the other.

As we soaked the sun and the cheap alcohol on a sun kissed beach where none but us sat, crowned in our silence marking the peace that the solitude of this place had brought upon us, we read a little, danced a little, slept a while, played ball, tried to pet a camel, rescued a camel, broke a car, made a friend and watched the sun set on a holiday from our lives that we have yet to recover from.

The drive back was short and fun though I doubt we ever left....

Rejection of humanity

I remember, those days I spent with Her. Though a glance of a memory they might be reduced to, I still remember the hidden smiles.... the looks of longing....as they tried to pull me closer trying to bound me into a sense of famliarity. To make me human.

The disconnection I have always felt She brought out to the forefront. It was some thing She wished to remove and pull me into the worlds She lived in. An attempt at making me more human again I guess...

I do not blame Her...

I do not remember Her this way...
I remember through what She once tried to tell to me out of a sense of finality, that I couldnt grasp just then as I watched Her walk away....

Yet I do try to maybe glance back to try to understand Her....and maybe just try to explain to Her...
To make Her listen...

Humanity doesnt come easy to me....
It doesnt suit me...

Yet....She made me human....She made me what I lacked...

If only I could tell Her once.

The River Styx

Two coins be the worth,
Of a Soul unheard.

Whispered welcomes,
Darkened stares,
The Beyond beckons
At the end of the Stairs.

The sound I hear, I once held dear,
A River that flows, is the music I hear.

The Waters are dead,
Not for the absence of life,
But the absence of hope.
A River so black that even my Soul would dread.

'Tis not Water that flows,
'Tis not Blood.

Nor is it Darkness or other Things untold.
I see a glimmer as I come to recognize,
What was once a Dream
To my now tired dead eyes.

A Promise unfulfilled now hits the Barge,
As The boatman reaches for the coins with hands large.

I pay the Price as I board the Boat,
Another broken toy tightens my throat.

Every Dream...

Every Hope...

A Wish forgotten,

A Desire lost...

To me they are the true cost.

A burden They may seem,
But there is a joy to this Darkness I gleam.

'Tis the River of The Dead,
And all that They leave behind.
In this Styx, My last dregs of Life I find