In Flames,Mike Portnoy,Silverchair,Bush, Spiderman,Black and white,Insomnium,Fight club,Labradors,X-men,Entourage,Drums,Metallica,Simpsons,Batman,Ironman,Transformers
May
02
Jumping; I came across this concept when I watched the movie called “Jumper”. In simpler words, jumping has always been known as teleporting, a really remarkable ability to have. Teleportation is defined in Wikipedia as:
“Teleportation is the movement of objects from one place to another, more or less instantaneously, without traveling through space.”
What if we could actually teleport? What if we can be in one place one second and another place in the other? But what if this ability comes with a price that makes this ability almost useless? Would we still use this power if it came with any of the following back draws?:
- You can jump(teleport), but only to a place in between a crowd of people and your clothes have to stay behind.
- You can jump, but everytime you do, your penis grows 2 centimeters shorter.
- You can jump, but only along with transformation into another form; be it an animal or be it a pile of dung.
- You can jump, but with the loss of voluntary control over yourself for the next five minutes which probably would lead to incontinence of urine and feces.
- You can jump, but first you have to find someone else with the same ability who is willing to exchange places with you.
- You can jump, but everytime you do, you age 5 years.
- You can jump, but first you have to count from 1 to 100,000 in one go.
- You can jump, but with the price of an exponential increase in your body hair.
- You can jump, but you have the choice of either a raft at sea, the north pole or an underground coal mine.
- You can jump, but you cannot come back.
Apr
28
Ah! These lights. I just love them. I just love how they change from red to blue to green to red again. I love how the lights literally dance infront of my eyes. Its weird how this spectacle never comes to life when im at ground level or when I’m actually having a good day, I always witness this amazing show when im either having one of my worst days or when im here at this roof top.
There is no place else I’d rather be than here right now. My sanctuary. I always feel so alive and carefree when im here, the rest of the world can just go to hell. The lights change shape and start to dance all around me. Like an eager little boy, I jump up and clap my hands. Im mesmerized by this grandeur. I laugh out in appreciation. I don’t care; I know there is no one around to look at me, or to share this exhibition with me. My arm hurts and I look at it to find a bruise over my forearm. I don’t remember how it got there. I ignore it. The lights will heal it in due time, im sure.
The glitter and the fuzziness are too fascinating. It leaves my presence and moves away from me, hovering over the ledge. I know what I have to do, follow it. This feeling is eternal, its here to stay. I let myself loose. I follow the lights off the roof. They carry me in the air. I’ve never felt better. Im flying with the lights as they gently bring me to the ground a few hundred feet below. The impact is not what I was expecting. I hit the sidewalk hard and my jaw dislocates, my ribs are pushed into my chest, my arm is broken and my skull splits into two.
LSD mixed with heroine makes one hell of a drug.
Apr
23
*
CHAPTER ONE: THE SLAUGHTER
1485
The Zangerberths and the Hilanders were at war again. The seventh in a series of many, if ones memory served him right. They say the deadliest battles in history had been fought between the two sides. Blood baths. After a conquest, no sign of a whole village would be left, burnt to the ground. Another page ripped out of history. The village elder would be hung by the feet with a cut in the neck to run him dry of his blood. Lesson be learnt. Wombs cut out of women as they screamed in agony so they could not conceive their own kind again. Noone knew mercy, noone knew sympathy; it was an age old rivalry that would come to an end once the other side was wiped off from the face of the earth. Thousands washed the battle grounds with their blood over the years, but an end to the war was far from near.
After the small village of Tuhymon, the one furthest up the mountains, was demolished by the Zangerberths, only two survived. Azarel and his youngest grandson, Zas were fortunate enough to be out at the distance, but yet unfortunate enough to witness their village burn with their own eyes. Zas only 2 at that time cried for his mother, but Azarel covered his mouth with his hand, and ran as far and as fast as his old legs could take him. Out of breath and out of strength, he stopped almost at the foot of the mountain. He looked back just to see the smoke rising up from the top of the hill. His eyes filled with tears as the thought of his family being slaughtered by his sworn enemies crossed his mind. He was helpless. All that he was left with now was his heart filled with revenge and an orphan grandson.
Several days passed. Night fell. Azarel rarely dropped his guard. But that night, he did. As the two of them slept unaware under the oak tree, they were spotted by a group of Zangerberth guards as they rode past them. Azarel sat up with a startle as the hoofs hit the ground and without looking back to his death, he grabbed his child by the arm and started running like the devil was after him for vengeance. It was too late. It was impossible for him to outrun the guards. They caught up to him in no time and he was kicked down to the ground. Zas fell down and started to cry. It was the end of the road for the last Tuhymon Hilander survivors.
**********
.
CHAPTER TWO: THE HILANDER WHO LED TO VICTORY
He had cried; for days. He had cried till his eyes were red and then he cried some more. He did not know how he managed to overcome the guard and claim his sword, he did not know how he managed to counter the remaining three guards and cut the head of two of them with single lashes and pierce the chest of the fourth one before he slaughtered the first one with his own sword, but he did know that he was too late. Out of the only two things left in his life, he had witnessed one of them die. As he was held down by two of the guards, he witnessed his youngest grandchild being decapitated. They laughed with no sympathy. “Another bastard Hilander who won’t live to raise a sword against us” one of them laughed as he spoke to the others. Azarel struggled and shouted but was of no use. He was too late to win in his struggle. He held the child in his arms as he wept. He dug him a small grave. He could not contain his hatred. It was too much for him. He had sworn to kill every last one of the Zangerberths before he passed on to the next life.
He rode hundreds of miles before he reached Southastern, the homeland of the Hilanders. He made his way to the palace, almost out of life. It took him several days to recover. He could not comprehend how many days, or weeks it had taken him to get to Southastern. When he was strong enough to walk on his feet, he was presented before the king. Azarel narrated the unfortunate events he had witnessed and requested to be put in the army of the king. His wish was granted.
1498
His vengeance was strong as iron. His services were remarkable. It wasn’t long before he was made advisor to the king and the next to be. Another vicious battle. This time the Zangerberths attacking Southastern. The Hilanders proved victorious but at the price of their vigilant king. It was a moment of sorrow for the whole country. But had it not been the immaculate guidance of the king’s trusty advisor, there was a fair chance the Hilanders would have lost their sovereignty along with their king in that battle. Unanimously Azarel was crowned the king of Southastern.
History wrote itself. Hilanders under the exemplary leadership of their new king defeated the Zangerberths once too often to conquer Northasten, the homeland of the Zangerberths. It was a moment of pride, a moment Azarel had waited a lifetime for. It was the moment he had sworn about. Drenched in Zangerberth blood, with little strength in his body and his heart content, he climbed up on the previously Zangerberth owned fort and looked down as his army finished off the remaining survivors in the battlefield. It was the moment of truth. All he could see was the red that covered the ground and the soldiers. The stench of blood made him feel alive. He held his sword in one hand and the head of the Zangerberth king in the other and let out a roar of victory. His roar was matched by hundreds of his men. He had never heard a sound so sweet in his life. “This is for you Zas” he said to himself.
*********
.
CHAPTER TWO: THE ZANGERBERTH WHO LED TO VICTORY
He stood there crying. The last image he remembered was his grandfather being decapitated by the soldiers. “Let the young bastard live, he won’t survive the wolves even one day. I wish him a much more torturous death than from the blow of my steel” the soldier said as he kicked Zas to the ground and rode away in the forest. For the first time in his life he was alone. Like the innocent child that he was, he started walking deeper into the forest, crying helplessly. Three days later a young woman found a child sleeping under a bush, bruised and limp, only a necklace hung around his neck that read “Zas”. She brought the child home and showed him to her husband. Soon the news of the child spread throughout the village and everyone came to see him. “Poor child, one can only wonder how long he was in the forest” “He looks like the devil’s child, throw him away!” “He looks like one of us.”
The woman did not pay much attention to the villagers’ thoughts and adopted the child to join her family of five. It took several days before the child was of health again. The child was raised and educated in the village of Kosanvy. He was a sharp boy, eager to learn. He grew up to be a strong young man. He was never told the truth about his entrance into his new family; “For the best of him” his father would always say to his wife. His father had taught him well; how to fight, how to survive. The skills he was much aware of being an ex-soldier in the army of the king, the king of Northastern.
Throughout his childhood he was fed stories about the battles between the Hilanders and the Zangerberths, many times stories twisted and exaggerated to fit their own requirement. As he grew older, he grew a lust for the battles aswell, battles against the Hilanders so one day he could also be remembered along with the other brave Zangerberth soldiers. When he was of age, he told his father that he was leaving Kosanvy for Northastern to join the army of the king. That was a proud day for his father. He traveled many a mile to reach Northastern. He soon recruited in the army and like his father had taught him, he excelled quick. He was promoted on a regular basis, battle after battle, lives after lives. Soon he was the General to the King of Northastern. It was written in history that General Zas was one of the most successful leaders of his time. He had led the king’s army many a times against the Hilanders. But he was not satisfied. To be not just amongst the best soldiers, but to be the best, he had to do more than just win battles; he had to win the war.
1498
An extensive and strategic war plan was made and presented to the king. The king approved highly of it and gave General Zas all that he asked for. Well equipped and longing for glory in their hearts, the soldiers led by General Zas marched out of Northastern; headed to Southastern. It took them several weeks before they finally reached their destination. It was exactly what they had hoped for. Noone in the whole of Southastern had ever dreamt that the Zangerberths could actually march with their army directly to the homeland of the Hilanders hoping to conquer it. But it soon became a reality as the Zangerberths engulfed the city from all four corners, narrowing in on their enemies like a flock of eagles diving for their preys. It was a deadly battle. Probably the worst in the history of the Hilander-Zangerberth battles. The city was in chaos. Women ran for their children, men ran for cover; everyone knew they wouldn’t live to see the light of another day. It was not long before the soldiers were ankle deep in thick red blood. As steel ate steel, a stab, a blow, a personal victory; slowly but surely the Zangerberth strategy started to prove fruitful. As night fell, a handful of Hilander soldiers still breathed, down on their knees and begging for mercy. Zas made his way to the top of the fortress and looked down towards the battlefield. It was hard to make out who was alive and who wasn’t as everything hid behind a red veil. He had made his king proud, and most of all, he had made his father proud. There was no question that that day the world had seen the greatest victory there was ever to be. With a sword in one hand and the head of the Southastern king in the other, he let out a roar of victory which was matched by his fellow soldiers. It was the sweetest sound he had ever heard. “I was born a Zangerberth and I will die a Zangerberth!” he shouted as his army raised their swords in appraisal.
Apr
18
He stands by the window. The water strikes the pane like pellets being thrown from the air. The rain making it impossible to see outside, but he can imagine everything across the window, drenched. He makes his way to the center of the hall that has no boundaries, no end. In the center he seats himself infront of a grand piano. The woodwork on it shines in the dim light like it has never been used before. But it is misleading. He starts to press the keys softly, playing the tune he has played over and over and over again. The tune that sinks his heart unimaginably. The tune that makes him regret times he would give anything to forget.
He presses one last key with all the emotions in his body as his mind starts to run. Aimlessly. Uncontrollably. He gets up and throws the stool across the floor. It makes a deafening sound but it is inaudible because of the storm outside. He slumps to the ground and covers his face.
“When it rains, it pours like hell!”
He screams at the top of his lungs. The scream is unstoppable, it knows no boundaries, and it travels in all directions, breaking the walls down. Bit by bit the room crumbles around him. The chandelier crashes on top of the piano, smashing into a thousand pieces. Each piece crying out with the pain felt inside him. Soon he is left standing in the open. He sees the lightning far off. Every flicker makes him even more uneasy.
Before he knows it, he is drenched himself. The pouring rain is impossible to overcome. He finds it hard even to keep his eyes open. In a rush of emotions, as the anger flows through his body, he cannot contain it. He cannot stop it, he cannot control it. He rips off his attire as he falls to the ground for the last time. He closes his eyes. It is what he dreaded, it is what he had been waiting for, and it is but the gale.
He opens his eyes and finds himself sitting on the floor in the hall by the piano. Everything in its place like the day they were created.
.
Inspired from and interpretation of the song “The Gale” by Insomnium. Feel it.
Apr
16
I filled two ice trays from the tap and walked towards the refrigerator. It’s not that easy to concentrate on both the trays when they are filled to the top. This realization was made clearer as a slight miss step made me spill some water on to the floor, following me for a few steps like a trail to the mistake maker. “Dang it” I said as I carefully replaced both the trays inside the freezer. I walked back to the scene of the accident and bent down to look at the spilt water on the floor. The water gleamed in the sunlight. I tried to think if the water would be sad that it had fallen down or would it be joyful that it escaped its captivity.
As I examined the water on the floor I realized that I had thought about the exact same thing not long ago. A little pressure on my memory revealed that only one day ago when I was refilling the exact same trays, I had spilt some water on the floor then too. Even that day I knew I was taking a risk, but for some reason I had thought that I could avoid it. When I came to realize it, I had done the exact same thing several times in the past too, every time making the same mistake.
I seated myself on the floor. I had locked my car keys in the car that morning. I could remember atleast 5 other occasions when I had done the same thing. Earlier that morning I was stuck in traffic for a whole hour taking a particular route even though I knew taking it would be a gamble, from previous experience I guess, but I had still opted for that road. Was I just forgetful or was I just very very predictable? I looked at my watch and realized that I had forgotten to do something I had been forgetting for days now.
Same mistakes, over and over and over again. Do I ever learn from them? Will I ever make it to the next level in life or will I just be consumed by the repetition of the same mistakes? Am I just too over confident thinking I don’t need to learn from life? Will I break the cycle before it’s too late? I took a rag and wiped the floor clean. No more spilt water, no more mistake.
Mar
22
Dawn was the only thing there was to look forward to. The light that shone into his cell was the only ray of hope he had of another life, of another chance of freedom, of getting out from that four walled captivity. But with each passing day, even this hope was getting devoured by the darkness, the darkness that filled that room that engulfed him; his eternal shrine. The thought of rotting there and being consumed by the dungeon rats crossed his mind many a time. He held strongly to the bars of the window which was big enough to fit half his head through. It was much higher than he could reach easily. He had to pull himself up to take a peak out of it; though all there was to see was another wall. Another wall of another cell for another man who for all he knew might already be dead and forgotten. But his arms were weak, they were getting weaker. Soon he won’t even be able to pull himself up. That will be the time when his hope would die for good; and with it, his soul.
The moss on the rusted iron bars made his hands slip. He felt like he was being pushed away on purpose from the one thing that had kept him going so far. He felt the walls made of huge stone blocks move in by the day. The nights were what he feared the most; when he was left alone face to face with darkness. Surely and inevitably he was surrendering to insanity. The stench of dead rodents and growing algae made him noxious. He had lost all sense of time. He did not remember when was the last time he actually stood up on his feet. He did not know if he could take it much longer. He wished for death. He wished for redemption. He wished for just one day out of his eternal captivity.
Mar
18
The beach was beautiful. The wind in my hair felt amazing as I drove towards the hut in my roofless Land Rover. The weather for the day had been put together just for me. The right amount of sun and clouds, just perfect. As my half open button down shirt fluttered in the sea breeze, I glanced over at my golden retriever sitting in the seat next to mine with his tongue and ears flapping in the wind too. He seemed happy. It was a treat for him whenever we came to the hut because he was free to run around on the beach and bark at the little crabs that crawled from the sea to the rocks.
It was a peaceful drive along the shore. I secretly wished the distance to the hut would magically increase because I could never get enough of the beautiful blue coast line. “California waiting” by the Kings of Leon playing on the radio made me feel the day couldn’t get any better. Before I had had my heart full share of the drive, we approached the turn to the hut.
“Here we are boy” I said as I parked besides the hut and jumped out of the jeep. I stood there looking in awe towards the sparkling blue water as the white surf gently kissed the sand again and again. The sound it made had a soothing effect. There was nowhere else I’d rather be at that time. Russell was out of the car and out of sight even before I had started unloading the stuff from the jeep. I carried the beach umbrella on one shoulder and the small freezer with drinks in it in the other hand. After replenishing the food in the shelves in the make shift kitchen I headed out to the patio and slummed onto the beach chair. I looked around the hut. It was just as I had left it the last time I had been here.
I had been soaking up the sun only for a few minutes when I heard another car pull up in the drive way. I made my way through the sand towards the front of the hut to find a Toyota hunchback parked by my jeep with the back open and a woman dressed according to the occasion reaching for her stuff at the back. She turned around holding a few bags across her chest. “Hi” she said.
My face was taken over by a smile as I replied, “You’re just in time.”
I helped her with the stuff and set up a nice meal on the table inside the hut. We went for a long walk along the beach, one of the best one we’ve ever had. We turned back when it was almost unbearable to walk on the rocks bear foot. The crabs would vanish inside their holes as soon as we approached them, to spread the gossip about us; I joked with her. There was something extraordinary about the way she pushed back her hair while the wind tried to spread them over her face as she laughed at my joke. Her glistening teeth sparkled as the sun’s reflection from the sea hit them. “We can give them something else to gossip about aswell, if we catch one of them and cook it for dinner!” she joked back. “Do you really want a hundred crabs bite the hell out of you as revenge when you’re sleeping at night?” I said moving my fingers imitating the movement of crabs.
We spent the later part of the evening on the beach chairs. Even Russell was tired by then from all the running around and lay close to me. We talked about almost anything we could think of. We talked till the sun was down and the crashing waves almost looked eerie in the moonlight. We had a candle light dinner which was memorable. We went for another short walk before we came back dead tired from the day. I don’t remember when I fell asleep, but when I woke up she was by my side and her head rested gently on my chest as the sun shone brightly through the open window. I could see Russell chasing the gulls on the beach from the window. I smiled. This was undoubtedly the best weekend I had ever spent at my hut.
Mar
17
Him:
I finished my lunch hastily. It was not worth the money. The restaurant didn’t suit my taste either but this was the only place on my way. I paid the bill and got up to leave. I felt nervous. Though I hadn’t eaten much but still my stomach felt heavy, it didn’t feel right. I loosened my tie and opened my collar button to give my neck some leverage. I was sweating unusually. I put my jacket back on and stepped out of the restaurant. I stopped for a minute outside the door, looked at my watch and then looked at the big watch tower visible from over the smaller buildings. It will be the moment of truth in due time, soon. I held my brief case across my chest with both arms, still trying not to look too conspicuous. I heard the clock on the watch tower strike one. I looked up instinctively towards the tower. I felt numb. My vision started to redden, and then it turned blank.
Me:
I lay flat on my stomach, trying to regularize my breathing. No matter how many times I had done this before, it still felt like the first time every time. There was no margin for error. This is what I had trained a considerable time of my life for. I shut one eye and stuck the other to the scope. The location, the time, the accessibility; everything seemed perfect. The stage was set. I wiped the sweat droplets off my forehand with the leather glove I wore. The smell of the leather and its feel on my skin made everything seem more real. The steady breeze pushed my hair into my eyes from time to time. I took one last look at the watch tower and put my eye back to the scope. I put one finger on the trigger and the other hand under the rifle to keep it steady. I heard my heart beat loudly as my ears started to feel warmer. I saw him come out of the door and I slightly shifted my rifle as my marker rested directly on his forehead. The clock struck one. I held my breath, held the rifle firmly with my supporting hand and pulled the trigger.
