you bastard motherfuckr
you cunt faced bitch
you bhenchod haramzaday
you randi kanjri chootia
fuck you fuck the party i'm not going, you fucking asshole
you fucking bitch you think i'd go with you anywhere!?
two very pissed off people sitting in two different rooms, one awake with rage and fatigue for most of the night, and ill with lack of sleep the next day
--------------------
what the hell are you wearing? i'm not going with you anywhere dressed like that!!
what are you fucking talking about!! i'm wearing SHALWAR KAMEEZ to a WORK DINNER you fucking moron. stop making excuses and get the fuck dressed we're late.
fuck you i'm not going.
FUCK YOU!
she goes alone fuming
--------------------
she's lying flat on the bed in her shaadi clothes staring at the ceiling.
a cousin walks in: ' z is asking why you're taking so long?'
she says: 'tell z to go to hell'
cousin gapes, mother in law gapes, mother freaks internally but calm outward. warning eyes falling unheedful on stubborn rebellious daughter
daughter goes with friends to wedding, selfish bastard stays at home
-------------
10:30 am: ring ring
my heart. my love. you need to be ready by 9:30 today do NOT be late pumpkin
fine
12:30 pm: teet teet
just a reminder. 9:00 today. love!
ok
3:28 pm : ring ring
what!
what time will you be getting home my baby we'll need to be on time
you call me one more time i'm slashing your tyres tonight
6:00pm
you really need to leave my love? its cutting it close
(you *&@"!?,#$) its important baby just 10 minutes
745 pm
you're late! i told you you'll get stuck in traffic! how vould u hurry hurry hurry!
830 pm
they leave, her hair unstraight ironed and social anxiety ignored
--------------
1045 pm another day
she's trying on her 8th outfit
stressed
annoyed
is it the pink or the white you annoying man
pink baby
the glass of disgusting scotch in his hand clinks a bit as he appraises the view
she makes an annoyed tsk decides to wear the white and slaps on some make up. aware they had to be there by 1030 pm.
she's just finished her eyes and is holding her lipstick when he come behind her to use the bathroom
she opens her mouth to make a guilty sniping comment before he starts the usual lecturing, when lips meet warm mouth
words muffle into her throat
they back into the cupboard lipstick falls to the floor and hands come up and enmesh into his collar
her consciousness reduces to one puddle of need
'whenever u're ready let me know i'll be in the living room'
And then 4 days later, he says he wants a divorce.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Sunday, June 08, 2008
since no one seems to be writing, i'll just have to do it myself. humph.
the trees forked across the line of sight, a web of criss crossing birds, leaves and oak. she lay listlessly in the heat horizontal on the sofa, watching disinterestedly as two beetles in holy matrimony slowly, painfully crawled their way across the glass. clouds rolled past, beautiful blessed relief, stunning in the weather change they bring.
rain. rain rain rain and the skies weeping, in joy not sorrow as the world rejoiced with it. i would like to think that men, sweaty and tired after back breaking minimum wage labor also looked up from their dusty bread winning and looked up at the sky and smiled as the first drops broke loose and provided amazing coolness in the oppressive waves of heat. I know for a fact that children broke out from their roles as adult street hawkers, as primary household earners, as naan wallas and seven year old fridge repairmen, broke free and ran, ran ran stripping their tiny man sized kameezes and throwing them at the side of the nehr and jumping, canonballing their first world counter parts would call it, shalwars huge and inflated with comical effect as water and air met in places where the sun doesn't shine, and abandoned the vestiges of hard labor that the third world enforces on them, and they became just that - kids in the rain, washed of all responsibilities.
the trees forked across the line of sight, a web of criss crossing birds, leaves and oak. she lay listlessly in the heat horizontal on the sofa, watching disinterestedly as two beetles in holy matrimony slowly, painfully crawled their way across the glass. clouds rolled past, beautiful blessed relief, stunning in the weather change they bring.
rain. rain rain rain and the skies weeping, in joy not sorrow as the world rejoiced with it. i would like to think that men, sweaty and tired after back breaking minimum wage labor also looked up from their dusty bread winning and looked up at the sky and smiled as the first drops broke loose and provided amazing coolness in the oppressive waves of heat. I know for a fact that children broke out from their roles as adult street hawkers, as primary household earners, as naan wallas and seven year old fridge repairmen, broke free and ran, ran ran stripping their tiny man sized kameezes and throwing them at the side of the nehr and jumping, canonballing their first world counter parts would call it, shalwars huge and inflated with comical effect as water and air met in places where the sun doesn't shine, and abandoned the vestiges of hard labor that the third world enforces on them, and they became just that - kids in the rain, washed of all responsibilities.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
I’m not the sort of person
Who falls in and quickly out of love
But to you I gave my affection
Right from the start
- The weakness in me, Joan Armatrading
She’s working elbow deep in clay. Sweat drips off her forehead, which she doesn’t notice. She is intent on the impending figure that will emerge from the clay. She’s trying to spend herself, emotionally, physically, so she falls exhausted into dreamless sleep.
So she can’t think.
******************
The electricity goes around 4 times at night. She is woken up by a thunderstorm, beautiful wild rain pounding amid lightning on old brick roofs and 300 year old trees.
She walks the house at night with a flashlight, checking doors and windows. Drenched in sweat, not a drop of breeze in the house, she lies on the sweltering mattress and kicks off the 6 pillows and spread eagles herself so that there is no overlapping flesh to cause puddles of sweat.
Dreams of going back to school, a reunion, but its actually just him. In a room in the beautiful old building that haunted her childhood. Holding her, swearing he loved her, so convincing her foolish stupid heart believes him again.
And again, every time she lies down, she feels the gaping void. She can feel, feel him on the other side of the bed, where she used to reach an arm out to reassure herself he was there, and be unbearably comforted by his solid warmth.
Freezing in a too cold AC, and rolling over to him in the middle of the night so she could be find warmth. Persuading him to open lift an arm, and be enveloped in delicious heat, held safe between hard lines of stomach muscle and bicep while he snored unbearably reassuring in her ear.
Of waking up in the middle of a dream with a smile, because two three pillows hugged back.
Of going to sleep tangled together, of trying to escape to a quieter corner of the bed where snores didn’t crash so close, and have his arms tighten around her, not letting her go. Of lying awake and staying right where she was, because it felt so right.
Of waking up to the perfect breakfast in bed every day, a prayer and time to do pursue every dream she could ever have wanted. Of being back and being so taken care of, so unconditionally loved and supported, that she never wanted to leave to the awful place that broke her wings and her heart.
How can you have everything yet still want something so bad for you?
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
you fucking bastard give me my money and my life back
----
the police come to the door. she opens it, and blocks their way. they show her a piece of paper. she shakes her head. they don't believe her, and have to firmly come in.
there is the sound of crying, a shout, something breaking. a man yelling, cursing. they come out again, with him sandwiched in the middle. the woman is crying in huge silent gasps, burying her face in the the yellow kitchen duster in her hand.
the neighbours are watching.
"can you believe the broad? he clocks her one, gives her a fresh black eye, and she's crying for him!"
- nora roberts
------
bastard
----
the police come to the door. she opens it, and blocks their way. they show her a piece of paper. she shakes her head. they don't believe her, and have to firmly come in.
there is the sound of crying, a shout, something breaking. a man yelling, cursing. they come out again, with him sandwiched in the middle. the woman is crying in huge silent gasps, burying her face in the the yellow kitchen duster in her hand.
the neighbours are watching.
"can you believe the broad? he clocks her one, gives her a fresh black eye, and she's crying for him!"
- nora roberts
------
bastard
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
its funny how the end of a marriage can mean nothing, and a lot of it
the view is breathtaking
the 12th floor seems quite dizzingly high in the third world landscape
the white lights dot the edge of the water, spinning out to pin pricks of probably frantic fishing activity miles away
standing in the wind, hair and clothes being whipped into pleasing streams behind her, she stands, watching, inhaling the beautiful city.
far far away tiny people go about their night life - a maid closes a curtain in a window far below, a boy walks like a little action figure on the ground to the car.
a little miniature painting, put on for her benefit.
is this how God feels, so high in the sky?
looking down at us little insignificant specks, hurtling, full of self importance and pompous problems which mean nothing, being ground to ash and dust in cosmic seconds, living out a giant chess board of good against evil while happily oblivious in the matrix waiting to get the next quarterly promotion and the next annual bonus
maybe we're all just as pathetic as the spineless bastard.
scary.
the view is breathtaking
the 12th floor seems quite dizzingly high in the third world landscape
the white lights dot the edge of the water, spinning out to pin pricks of probably frantic fishing activity miles away
standing in the wind, hair and clothes being whipped into pleasing streams behind her, she stands, watching, inhaling the beautiful city.
far far away tiny people go about their night life - a maid closes a curtain in a window far below, a boy walks like a little action figure on the ground to the car.
a little miniature painting, put on for her benefit.
is this how God feels, so high in the sky?
looking down at us little insignificant specks, hurtling, full of self importance and pompous problems which mean nothing, being ground to ash and dust in cosmic seconds, living out a giant chess board of good against evil while happily oblivious in the matrix waiting to get the next quarterly promotion and the next annual bonus
maybe we're all just as pathetic as the spineless bastard.
scary.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
as you grow older your knowledge becomes inversely proportional to your assurity that you know everything
nothing, i mean nothing is as bad as this. except maybe for the stuff that led to it.
her pony tail jauntily swung in time to her step. in the awful sweltering heat she was an oasis of cool pink and white, sun blocked and lip glossed, shading eyes behind yummily gaudy Dior. Every single man turned and gaped as the vision passed, and, more discreetly, so did the women.
bravely, she sat outside in the wall of humidity that was May heat. under one tiny umbrella for shelter.
alone. finally. and greatful for it.
bastard.
nothing, i mean nothing is as bad as this. except maybe for the stuff that led to it.
her pony tail jauntily swung in time to her step. in the awful sweltering heat she was an oasis of cool pink and white, sun blocked and lip glossed, shading eyes behind yummily gaudy Dior. Every single man turned and gaped as the vision passed, and, more discreetly, so did the women.
bravely, she sat outside in the wall of humidity that was May heat. under one tiny umbrella for shelter.
alone. finally. and greatful for it.
bastard.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
to picture # 9
it was all still so new and shiny.
i picked out my new and shiny blue jewelled outfit and wore the giant diamond thing from the shaadi.
we made it to the car only half an hour late, you mellowing your annoyance at tardiness with a glass of scotch (ew)
we noticed in the car that your tie matched my outfit (revoltingly honeymoonish coincidence)
we went together. no anxiety of being stranded alone without a table, no making desperate chit chat with wondering strangers.
gelling instantly with a table of friends. the best friend and beautiful makeup and outfit a cherry on the evening. T next to us pointed it and said smile, and we both scrunched together - me giggling like a loon and you - my god - you. smouldering semi smiling, hesitant yet so sure.
of the hole in my heart.
bastard.
i picked out my new and shiny blue jewelled outfit and wore the giant diamond thing from the shaadi.
we made it to the car only half an hour late, you mellowing your annoyance at tardiness with a glass of scotch (ew)
we noticed in the car that your tie matched my outfit (revoltingly honeymoonish coincidence)
we went together. no anxiety of being stranded alone without a table, no making desperate chit chat with wondering strangers.
gelling instantly with a table of friends. the best friend and beautiful makeup and outfit a cherry on the evening. T next to us pointed it and said smile, and we both scrunched together - me giggling like a loon and you - my god - you. smouldering semi smiling, hesitant yet so sure.
of the hole in my heart.
bastard.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Monday, April 07, 2008
where do i start? where do i begin?
fully sated. clothes hanging in neatly ironed soldier rows in the cupboard. considerate servants, healthy atmosphere of positive well being. four options for each gourment meal, glass walls overlooking breathtaking vistas, pressure pump showers, beautiful 1000 sq yr gardens and fairy benches to sit on in cool grass when the electricity goes. beautiful.
being loved unconditionally.
having people you trust catch you in the safety net of their well wishes.
being cocooned in the womb.
suffocating in the pain and hurt caused to all.
sunday morning i'm waking up / can't even focus on a coffee cup
having time to read all you want. having time to keep up with your friends.
having time to watch all those backlogged movies.
reading, writing, exploring tentative talents.
Don't even know who's bed I'm in
hoping. waiting. gnawing uncertainity. would it? could it?
can someone new be found? is it possible?
memories. delicious thrilling warmth snuggling under covers against the outside world
being kicked outside
suddenly
where do i start? where do i begin?
fully sated. clothes hanging in neatly ironed soldier rows in the cupboard. considerate servants, healthy atmosphere of positive well being. four options for each gourment meal, glass walls overlooking breathtaking vistas, pressure pump showers, beautiful 1000 sq yr gardens and fairy benches to sit on in cool grass when the electricity goes. beautiful.
being loved unconditionally.
having people you trust catch you in the safety net of their well wishes.
being cocooned in the womb.
suffocating in the pain and hurt caused to all.
sunday morning i'm waking up / can't even focus on a coffee cup
having time to read all you want. having time to keep up with your friends.
having time to watch all those backlogged movies.
reading, writing, exploring tentative talents.
Don't even know who's bed I'm in
hoping. waiting. gnawing uncertainity. would it? could it?
can someone new be found? is it possible?
memories. delicious thrilling warmth snuggling under covers against the outside world
being kicked outside
suddenly
where do i start? where do i begin?
Monday, March 31, 2008
I was wearing a silver mask I had made myself that evening – it was shiny silver, flamboyant pink swirls (to match my wonderfully fun & scanty shirt), and over the top sides that winged out way beyond my face.
He had grabbed one of the free masks that they passed out at the entrance.
We hadn’t been out in such a long time, I loved every expensive second of it. I came out of the Ladies (very nice, extremely miraculously huge and clean) and he was waiting. We were having some normal discussion about food and where to find it before we entered the noise and darkness, and to make a point, he grabbed my arms and shook me and said something like “I need food dammit!”. We were standing close as we usually do, I automatically leaned my arms on his chest as his hands slid from my arms to my waist. I was saying something like “well baby we’ll get food first then” and as my face leaned up to his, I noticed the slack jawed stares from the corner of my eye from the people at the entrance desk, gaping at the unaccustomed display right behind them.
He had grabbed one of the free masks that they passed out at the entrance.
We hadn’t been out in such a long time, I loved every expensive second of it. I came out of the Ladies (very nice, extremely miraculously huge and clean) and he was waiting. We were having some normal discussion about food and where to find it before we entered the noise and darkness, and to make a point, he grabbed my arms and shook me and said something like “I need food dammit!”. We were standing close as we usually do, I automatically leaned my arms on his chest as his hands slid from my arms to my waist. I was saying something like “well baby we’ll get food first then” and as my face leaned up to his, I noticed the slack jawed stares from the corner of my eye from the people at the entrance desk, gaping at the unaccustomed display right behind them.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Soloman (cont.)
She reached him, carried on five slaves only. it could have been a thousand if she chose it, but something about the whispers around this man spoke to her dreams. she had to know more about the light.
He stood when she crossed the last dune, unable to help himself. his mind blanked for a second, and he understood what it meant to be mortal, truely mortal, in a way God had not been able to show him before.
She almost gasped in shock.
Her chair. In the middle of the desert ten days away from where she left it. What was the meaning of this trechery?
"There are more things in heavan and earth your highness" said the strange man standing near her throne
the gold shimmered in the desert sun, almost as blinding as the gold headdress if she knew it. then suddenly - it was gone.
the priests and advisors edged nervously together. what was the meaning of this? was this an attack?
"what do my dreams mean? what does this mean. who are you" she whispered
"i am a messenger of the God of all the worlds. Worship him and only him, and be saved in this life, and the after life."
"heretic" hissed the men around her, priests and advisors alike.the guard tensed around their spears.
suddenly, as they stood surrounded by nothingness for miles around them - started up another whisper - "believer" "believer" "mesenger". a thousand voices around them, coming from nowhere. around them inside their head.
priests and slaves fell shrieking to the ground. "what is the meaning of this magic." she shouted
"not magic your highness. more than that. worship my God. i have shown you. your dreams have shown you. belive and be humbled before him before it is too late for your nation. "
the voices in her head screaming, not knowing, not liking being forced, not listening to her heart and soul but her the depths of the inner being as dark as her skin - "never" she whispered
"i have given you ninety eight chances your highness. i sent letters and emissiaries, all of which have been killed or slaughtered. i have shown you signs and given you warnings, but still you do not believe. but believe this, God has cursed you. God has cursed you and your people. their nobleness will not survive. their stature, your stature, will account for nothing. they will be the slaves for a century and more till the end of time and you will be bound to the sand to view the downfall. i will give you one last chance, the ninety ninth, repent now, and God will forgive you, he is oft forgiving and most merciful..."
He stood when she crossed the last dune, unable to help himself. his mind blanked for a second, and he understood what it meant to be mortal, truely mortal, in a way God had not been able to show him before.
She almost gasped in shock.
Her chair. In the middle of the desert ten days away from where she left it. What was the meaning of this trechery?
"There are more things in heavan and earth your highness" said the strange man standing near her throne
the gold shimmered in the desert sun, almost as blinding as the gold headdress if she knew it. then suddenly - it was gone.
the priests and advisors edged nervously together. what was the meaning of this? was this an attack?
"what do my dreams mean? what does this mean. who are you" she whispered
"i am a messenger of the God of all the worlds. Worship him and only him, and be saved in this life, and the after life."
"heretic" hissed the men around her, priests and advisors alike.the guard tensed around their spears.
suddenly, as they stood surrounded by nothingness for miles around them - started up another whisper - "believer" "believer" "mesenger". a thousand voices around them, coming from nowhere. around them inside their head.
priests and slaves fell shrieking to the ground. "what is the meaning of this magic." she shouted
"not magic your highness. more than that. worship my God. i have shown you. your dreams have shown you. belive and be humbled before him before it is too late for your nation. "
the voices in her head screaming, not knowing, not liking being forced, not listening to her heart and soul but her the depths of the inner being as dark as her skin - "never" she whispered
"i have given you ninety eight chances your highness. i sent letters and emissiaries, all of which have been killed or slaughtered. i have shown you signs and given you warnings, but still you do not believe. but believe this, God has cursed you. God has cursed you and your people. their nobleness will not survive. their stature, your stature, will account for nothing. they will be the slaves for a century and more till the end of time and you will be bound to the sand to view the downfall. i will give you one last chance, the ninety ninth, repent now, and God will forgive you, he is oft forgiving and most merciful..."
lahore lahore lahore
how you call to me. you are my adopted city. the city of my late orphaned childhood, the city where i went away and the city where all is green and the roads are clean and the parents are happy and the house has no economic terror and no sex and no happiness or sadness just oceans of comfort to drown in while playing golf and swimming and contemplating taking up tennis again
of teaching and loving it
of gathering pots and pots of money and spending spending spending on anything my heart desired
why did my heart desire this?
sitting, unsated, frustrated, awake, unable to sleep as he snores in my ear, the only caring being a tobasco bottle retrieved from upstairs at dinnertime and much appreciated
where are my promises?
where are my three meals a day?
where are my back rubs and my cuddling and my stolen kisses and unearthly wonderous lustful amarous attempts at my virginity?
where?
where?
where are we? why are we here
why am i here
where did we go and why can i go there too?
how you call to me. you are my adopted city. the city of my late orphaned childhood, the city where i went away and the city where all is green and the roads are clean and the parents are happy and the house has no economic terror and no sex and no happiness or sadness just oceans of comfort to drown in while playing golf and swimming and contemplating taking up tennis again
of teaching and loving it
of gathering pots and pots of money and spending spending spending on anything my heart desired
why did my heart desire this?
sitting, unsated, frustrated, awake, unable to sleep as he snores in my ear, the only caring being a tobasco bottle retrieved from upstairs at dinnertime and much appreciated
where are my promises?
where are my three meals a day?
where are my back rubs and my cuddling and my stolen kisses and unearthly wonderous lustful amarous attempts at my virginity?
where?
where?
where are we? why are we here
why am i here
where did we go and why can i go there too?
Monday, March 12, 2007
This is where it started
I am dead. I have died. I have drowned in a pool of electric blue, looking up at the hole of light and I reach for it, lungs dying, hoping praying cringing reaching, and missing, still underwater, unable to breathe choking taking in water one more breath no air, blissfully not shaking anymore at peace, in silence, black hair floating, face down, not moving anymore staring at the dark
We are made up of silences you and i
The silence when we first saw each other across the only phone in the building, I blinded in spiritual shock, knowing, knowing, the blinding light, the uncertainty, the lying, the childishness. I loved you then, more than possible, you burnt like an afterimage into my soul, making me search for you in loneliness forever after. I am a one man woman. I cannot find you in anyone else. I have looked.
And now here we are, in our happily ever after. The fights in the dripping ceiling, the angels crying at our stupidity, me packing, ready to do, ready to die and return to the ashes, shopping, shopping, shopping, one thousand not enough, not two, not four, not ten, not fifteen to finish the loneliness in one blow, to get the courage to rip out my heart and leave it behind and go to the nurturing perfect place that I know will heal me
And then the crazy psychotic man following me to our house, me not being able to find my phone, groping in my bag, mentally terrified, wondering if my doors are locked as he speaks to me through the window with his crazy vacant rapist empty eyes telling me to get out of the car, and you answering after two bells, coming, coming, running, hitting, beating, nearly killing
I still hated you for killing me. How could I ignore your bashed knuckles, your shame and horror at your mindless rage and stupidity and base blind hatred. How could I not heal you, how could I not hold you to my soul and make you whole again as you wept, in fear and horror and self hatred and gratitude that I was ok
How we love each other you and i? how can we break and make each other and break again, and leave and threaten to not come back and know what no matter what happens, we will never ever be able to leave a room alone ever again
I am dead. I have died. I have drowned in a pool of electric blue, looking up at the hole of light and I reach for it, lungs dying, hoping praying cringing reaching, and missing, still underwater, unable to breathe choking taking in water one more breath no air, blissfully not shaking anymore at peace, in silence, black hair floating, face down, not moving anymore staring at the dark
We are made up of silences you and i
The silence when we first saw each other across the only phone in the building, I blinded in spiritual shock, knowing, knowing, the blinding light, the uncertainty, the lying, the childishness. I loved you then, more than possible, you burnt like an afterimage into my soul, making me search for you in loneliness forever after. I am a one man woman. I cannot find you in anyone else. I have looked.
And now here we are, in our happily ever after. The fights in the dripping ceiling, the angels crying at our stupidity, me packing, ready to do, ready to die and return to the ashes, shopping, shopping, shopping, one thousand not enough, not two, not four, not ten, not fifteen to finish the loneliness in one blow, to get the courage to rip out my heart and leave it behind and go to the nurturing perfect place that I know will heal me
And then the crazy psychotic man following me to our house, me not being able to find my phone, groping in my bag, mentally terrified, wondering if my doors are locked as he speaks to me through the window with his crazy vacant rapist empty eyes telling me to get out of the car, and you answering after two bells, coming, coming, running, hitting, beating, nearly killing
I still hated you for killing me. How could I ignore your bashed knuckles, your shame and horror at your mindless rage and stupidity and base blind hatred. How could I not heal you, how could I not hold you to my soul and make you whole again as you wept, in fear and horror and self hatred and gratitude that I was ok
How we love each other you and i? how can we break and make each other and break again, and leave and threaten to not come back and know what no matter what happens, we will never ever be able to leave a room alone ever again
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
alas poor anabelle
god i love this guy.
its a little weird because he was born a century ago. but oh well.
its a little weird because he was born a century ago. but oh well.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
i'm not going to bother. everything that can be said has been. but i can't resist: i predict that at the end of it, when the dust eventually clears and the petrol prices are at Rs. 110 /liter, it will be told history as a great strategic offensive that changed the map of the region; or it'll be told as the greatest war of independance every fought. if anyone is left to tell it to that is. i see the hezbollah as the balkans, and it frightens me a little that i'm on the wrong side of the fence.
the nearest spiral galaxy was in view, so to honor the soltice of the orbit, the star deck roof was transparent and held no educational filters. the fuzzy pinpricks of light against the startling navy blue background suspended in deep space made the spectacular view.
but no one noticed.
they hurried to their tasks by the millions, like the thrumming ant colony they had been modelled after. They dutifully ignored idiocyncrasies like the view and the weather, or the startling spectre the main deck was with its layers and layers of interconnecting bridges that spanned over a hundred stories.
Such was the life of the hard ones.
Just one thin cellular wall away, lived the softs. Allowed to exist in zero gravity, they were balls of jello like energy, lounging seemingly aimlessly in the spectacular incubator that was their womb. They studied nothing but the stars, and the orbits and the planets and the teeming life that lay just beyond their reach. And the one question that every soft dwelt upon, the one burning question that seared their existance, was "WHY". Till they found the answer, they would not stop.
It had not always been the case. in a previous reincarnation of the planet, the two had shared completely different planes of existence. but the fourth world war had shaken more than the land, and so the two beings had been forced to co-exisit within the same realm and confines of the ship. the virulent hatred against the softs was instinctive and absolute. the hards plotted, schemed and strategized to destroy the softs in any way possible. the experiemented and captured and tortured and planned and re-planned. but nothing ever worked, and so after a millenia of trying, the hards finally evolved and decided to throw the softs into a dividing compartment where the two would never interact. and so it had been for a millenia of a millenia more.
*****
Life was hard in the Ship. One could only put their head down, and bustle about and complete their job plans till they died, and there was a certain solitary and noble satisfaction in that.
JZ320 whistled along his way across ramp divider 56th on Main. He had five communicators wired into the portals of his brain, and a mobility device connected to the energy source in his spine. his job plan was fairly low level and stress free, he had to maintain the cellular Divider. He donated his superior DNA once every month to the wall, and allowed it to ferment and grow for one solstice. His job plan, like everyone elses, was encoded in his DNA. he happily whistled his way to the donation chamber as his several communicators beeped and buzzed, home delivering sensory data from all across the ship directly into this brain.
****
sarturo focused his aura to his surroundings, and waited. sure enough, like clockwork, the busy little hard bustled into the connecting chamber.
the stars were right, the galaxy was near. it was time.
****
Jz320 felt strange. he felt! after connecting to the donation chamber, he had experienced an alien energy flow, and then his form had changed somehow. the deep internal cellular structure of his DNA slowly unwound, disconnecting the communicators and the mobility device without his knowledge. the jello filled him, consumed him, filled him to bloating till his outer shell cracked and bulged like old chewing gum.
it was like a virus. the second his job plan completed, everyone on the ship was exposed.
in a matter of seconds, everyone was infected.
the hards fell wherever they were, choking, suffocating, stuffed to the hilt of their coverings with jello. how had they escaped the divider? why?!
****
the ship thudded gently into the blue planet. as the teeming masses spilled out in bewilderment, the last of the softs that had remained behind fulfilled their last function. they imploded the ship, and the shock wave spread across the planet, fossilizing the indiginous species for inspection at a later date.
****
the nearest spiral galaxy was in view, so to honor the soltice of the orbit, the star deck roof was transparent and held no educational filters. the fuzzy pinpricks of light against the startling navy blue background suspended in deep space made the spectacular view.
but no one noticed.
they hurried to their tasks by the millions, like the thrumming ant colony they had been modelled after. They dutifully ignored idiocyncrasies like the view and the weather, or the startling spectre the main deck was with its layers and layers of interconnecting bridges that spanned over a hundred stories.
Such was the life of the hard ones.
Just one thin cellular wall away, lived the softs. Allowed to exist in zero gravity, they were balls of jello like energy, lounging seemingly aimlessly in the spectacular incubator that was their womb. They studied nothing but the stars, and the orbits and the planets and the teeming life that lay just beyond their reach. And the one question that every soft dwelt upon, the one burning question that seared their existance, was "WHY". Till they found the answer, they would not stop.
It had not always been the case. in a previous reincarnation of the planet, the two had shared completely different planes of existence. but the fourth world war had shaken more than the land, and so the two beings had been forced to co-exisit within the same realm and confines of the ship. the virulent hatred against the softs was instinctive and absolute. the hards plotted, schemed and strategized to destroy the softs in any way possible. the experiemented and captured and tortured and planned and re-planned. but nothing ever worked, and so after a millenia of trying, the hards finally evolved and decided to throw the softs into a dividing compartment where the two would never interact. and so it had been for a millenia of a millenia more.
*****
Life was hard in the Ship. One could only put their head down, and bustle about and complete their job plans till they died, and there was a certain solitary and noble satisfaction in that.
JZ320 whistled along his way across ramp divider 56th on Main. He had five communicators wired into the portals of his brain, and a mobility device connected to the energy source in his spine. his job plan was fairly low level and stress free, he had to maintain the cellular Divider. He donated his superior DNA once every month to the wall, and allowed it to ferment and grow for one solstice. His job plan, like everyone elses, was encoded in his DNA. he happily whistled his way to the donation chamber as his several communicators beeped and buzzed, home delivering sensory data from all across the ship directly into this brain.
****
sarturo focused his aura to his surroundings, and waited. sure enough, like clockwork, the busy little hard bustled into the connecting chamber.
the stars were right, the galaxy was near. it was time.
****
Jz320 felt strange. he felt! after connecting to the donation chamber, he had experienced an alien energy flow, and then his form had changed somehow. the deep internal cellular structure of his DNA slowly unwound, disconnecting the communicators and the mobility device without his knowledge. the jello filled him, consumed him, filled him to bloating till his outer shell cracked and bulged like old chewing gum.
it was like a virus. the second his job plan completed, everyone on the ship was exposed.
in a matter of seconds, everyone was infected.
the hards fell wherever they were, choking, suffocating, stuffed to the hilt of their coverings with jello. how had they escaped the divider? why?!
****
the ship thudded gently into the blue planet. as the teeming masses spilled out in bewilderment, the last of the softs that had remained behind fulfilled their last function. they imploded the ship, and the shock wave spread across the planet, fossilizing the indiginous species for inspection at a later date.
****
Saturday, July 08, 2006
recursive right
this feeling of near throw up seems not to have left for three years now.
i'm sitting at my cubicle, its all a bloody mess, the man standing waiting for me in one of the nicer vendors. by nice i mean he actually is relatively less of a lying cheating scumbag out to fleece me of my budget in any way he can by making any kind of promise he can because promises don't go in writing and can't be legal. sometimes i think thats what every single person is out here to do. strip and rape any available surface, scrabbling for any last shred of flesh clinging to carcasses killed by the heat like the vermin we are as a nation. this will just continue till we finally get blissfully bombed/taken over by a superior more organized and probably more ethical race.
so there he is, at least having the decency to get the orders delivered at the time stated, and following up with integrity and efficieny and a little bit of flattery (it works). except his shipment failed my quality test. the warehouse passed it - i haven't.
my fingers hover over the keyboard, as i get ready to type the letter that will get him kicked off the panel. i feel like i'm drenched in slime regurgiated from his filthy belly. he's very apologetic, his excuse makes sense even to my now suspicious mind. writing out the form will get him screwed, legal action, kicked off the panel and he'll lose the Rs. 3 mil or so he sunk into the shipment.
i'm leaving in two weeks, the brands have been handed over, i have no loyalty to this giant evil corporation that eats souls and spits them out for breakfast.
no one, i mean no one, will ever know if i don't submit it. i don't know of anyone else in the department who's ever followed the procedure and filled one out no matter how bad the case.
i close my eyes, and press send.
this feeling of near throw up seems not to have left for three years now.
i'm sitting at my cubicle, its all a bloody mess, the man standing waiting for me in one of the nicer vendors. by nice i mean he actually is relatively less of a lying cheating scumbag out to fleece me of my budget in any way he can by making any kind of promise he can because promises don't go in writing and can't be legal. sometimes i think thats what every single person is out here to do. strip and rape any available surface, scrabbling for any last shred of flesh clinging to carcasses killed by the heat like the vermin we are as a nation. this will just continue till we finally get blissfully bombed/taken over by a superior more organized and probably more ethical race.
so there he is, at least having the decency to get the orders delivered at the time stated, and following up with integrity and efficieny and a little bit of flattery (it works). except his shipment failed my quality test. the warehouse passed it - i haven't.
my fingers hover over the keyboard, as i get ready to type the letter that will get him kicked off the panel. i feel like i'm drenched in slime regurgiated from his filthy belly. he's very apologetic, his excuse makes sense even to my now suspicious mind. writing out the form will get him screwed, legal action, kicked off the panel and he'll lose the Rs. 3 mil or so he sunk into the shipment.
i'm leaving in two weeks, the brands have been handed over, i have no loyalty to this giant evil corporation that eats souls and spits them out for breakfast.
no one, i mean no one, will ever know if i don't submit it. i don't know of anyone else in the department who's ever followed the procedure and filled one out no matter how bad the case.
i close my eyes, and press send.
this feeling of near throw up seems not to have left for three years now.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
i hate surprises
standing in a garden at midnight is weird.
its hot, its humid, you can smell the heat in the air. a fountain rustles in a corner, something slithers in the bushes making your heart die and your soul shrink bracing itself for the disgustingly repulsive crawl of legs.
but the mission is paramount. for king and country.
you a little girly foot shake type jig hoping that the bloody thing in the bushes stays there. you ignore the sweat making tracks down your stomach, you lean forawrd hoping for a breeze, but this stupid city has none.
is it worth it?
just as your faith wavers, just as the rustling gets joined by unidentifiable creaking and whirring, and a scream is building in your throat and you're about to go runningstarkravingmadoutofthedarknessandintoLIGHT you see a light come down the road.
the signal! are those cretins even there? how long have you been there?you flap your arms wildly near the window (its the signal!!). nothing happens. bloody simple minded short attention spanned fools. you hop over to under a window (so strange to stand on the wrong side) and rap impatiently at the idiots within.
you see the yellow cracks though the curtain extinguish. the car lights are almost at the gate.
is there time to run inside?
too late. car driving in. you make a judgement call and stay put. damn the plans. flexibility is key. you can sneak in afterwards.
he brings the car into the curving driveway, way too fast as usual. she's sitting in the front seat, co-conspirator and part mastermind. i giggle silently, because i feel like we're ten (and they're five) and at mamoo's huge rolling mansion playing hide and seek in the trees again. we used to play with walkie talkies shaped like care bears. why did we not find that strange?
the car doors slam, they say something, voices murmuring across the lawn and don't reach the shadow of the tree i'm standing behind. i can see them through the branches.
and suddenly, while they're laughing the carefree cackles of youth, he grabs her arm and pulls her into him, and plants a kiss!. on the lips!
my mind shuts down in shock. i gasp loudly, but it doesn't cross the lawn. i straighten up, my first thought "are they crazy the chowkidar will see this isn't karachi what are they DOING" and the second is "oh my God YUCK why did i have to SEE that" and the third overlapping "oh my God since when" and then "oh my God why didn't i see this way before" and "oh my God its been happening for so long how OBVIOUS"
and revolted to the core of my being, they leave me alone in the lawn at midnight.
i hear the yells of celebration erupt a second later, lights coming back on, front door left open, and i run really fast and go in throughthe kitchen and pretend i was there all along no one will notice the timing.
i can't hug them in celebration though. its too creepy. and positively incestuous in my book, but i guess what a perfect story book ending for them?
but they're such babies though! MY babies!
yuck yuck yuck YUCK.
eW. why did i have to see that. WHY!
its hot, its humid, you can smell the heat in the air. a fountain rustles in a corner, something slithers in the bushes making your heart die and your soul shrink bracing itself for the disgustingly repulsive crawl of legs.
but the mission is paramount. for king and country.
you a little girly foot shake type jig hoping that the bloody thing in the bushes stays there. you ignore the sweat making tracks down your stomach, you lean forawrd hoping for a breeze, but this stupid city has none.
is it worth it?
just as your faith wavers, just as the rustling gets joined by unidentifiable creaking and whirring, and a scream is building in your throat and you're about to go runningstarkravingmadoutofthedarknessandintoLIGHT you see a light come down the road.
the signal! are those cretins even there? how long have you been there?you flap your arms wildly near the window (its the signal!!). nothing happens. bloody simple minded short attention spanned fools. you hop over to under a window (so strange to stand on the wrong side) and rap impatiently at the idiots within.
you see the yellow cracks though the curtain extinguish. the car lights are almost at the gate.
is there time to run inside?
too late. car driving in. you make a judgement call and stay put. damn the plans. flexibility is key. you can sneak in afterwards.
he brings the car into the curving driveway, way too fast as usual. she's sitting in the front seat, co-conspirator and part mastermind. i giggle silently, because i feel like we're ten (and they're five) and at mamoo's huge rolling mansion playing hide and seek in the trees again. we used to play with walkie talkies shaped like care bears. why did we not find that strange?
the car doors slam, they say something, voices murmuring across the lawn and don't reach the shadow of the tree i'm standing behind. i can see them through the branches.
and suddenly, while they're laughing the carefree cackles of youth, he grabs her arm and pulls her into him, and plants a kiss!. on the lips!
my mind shuts down in shock. i gasp loudly, but it doesn't cross the lawn. i straighten up, my first thought "are they crazy the chowkidar will see this isn't karachi what are they DOING" and the second is "oh my God YUCK why did i have to SEE that" and the third overlapping "oh my God since when" and then "oh my God why didn't i see this way before" and "oh my God its been happening for so long how OBVIOUS"
and revolted to the core of my being, they leave me alone in the lawn at midnight.
i hear the yells of celebration erupt a second later, lights coming back on, front door left open, and i run really fast and go in throughthe kitchen and pretend i was there all along no one will notice the timing.
i can't hug them in celebration though. its too creepy. and positively incestuous in my book, but i guess what a perfect story book ending for them?
but they're such babies though! MY babies!
yuck yuck yuck YUCK.
eW. why did i have to see that. WHY!
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
i can never remember usernames. i'll remember the damn password, but bloody usernames are beyond me. and most bloody sites don't have reminders for usernames. bloody hell. i'm destined to get this damn newsletter forever.
she sits at the desk, feeling slightly bloated and more than a little nauseated. Flies buzz irritatingly past her ear, her coffee cup, her monitor.
the flat screen blurs in and out of focus. the video feed jerks and breaks with third world connectivity, and she tried to frown in concentration at the voice.
but it doesn't really matter because she'll be leaving in a week. such a shame. not.
she sits at the desk, feeling slightly bloated and more than a little nauseated. Flies buzz irritatingly past her ear, her coffee cup, her monitor.
the flat screen blurs in and out of focus. the video feed jerks and breaks with third world connectivity, and she tried to frown in concentration at the voice.
but it doesn't really matter because she'll be leaving in a week. such a shame. not.
Monday, July 03, 2006
ok i want to re-edit that last stupid post.
this is what happens when you forget how to write (struck by lightning bolts of writers block)
my words seem to jumble into repetitive words and hitch and pitch and lose their grip on the rain wet tar of concrete roads.
i'd stopped writing because he kept sneaking into all my words, turning them into wet candy floss hearts and fl0wers mush. and i have my pride, i'll never blog such drivel.
but this post is for all those in the tunnel. there is hope. its been around a year now, and my world has spun more than one revolution around a sun.
the gaping black hole of emptiness is gone. the hitch and stride of a day of hard work has meaning. how can i describe how the sun shines for me, how the rain falls so i can run screaming crazily happily through it? how can i write about how a drop falling off a leaf can hold so much beauty that i cry?
i'm sure it can be because of any given reason. for a work you love to do, for a friend you love to have. for me, it was love in itself and that is what i am here to tell you despite my lost ability to write.
love exists. whatever anyone tells you, don't listen. there IS a perfect happy ending, there IS that snow white picket fence, there IS that stomach flipping, electric bolt giving, giddy mushy madness with another person despite all your flaws and their flaws that survives for so long that you know just know it'll last forever and are still unbelieving when it does.
don't listen to anyone who tells you it doesn't exisit. don't listen to anyone who tells you it only happens once. and don't listen to that inner voice that slyly whispers saying you don't desearve all this.
embrace it. wait for it. your time WILL come, i am living cynical shining happy proof.
but remember that men are manipulative bastards for all that :)
this is what happens when you forget how to write (struck by lightning bolts of writers block)
my words seem to jumble into repetitive words and hitch and pitch and lose their grip on the rain wet tar of concrete roads.
i'd stopped writing because he kept sneaking into all my words, turning them into wet candy floss hearts and fl0wers mush. and i have my pride, i'll never blog such drivel.
but this post is for all those in the tunnel. there is hope. its been around a year now, and my world has spun more than one revolution around a sun.
the gaping black hole of emptiness is gone. the hitch and stride of a day of hard work has meaning. how can i describe how the sun shines for me, how the rain falls so i can run screaming crazily happily through it? how can i write about how a drop falling off a leaf can hold so much beauty that i cry?
i'm sure it can be because of any given reason. for a work you love to do, for a friend you love to have. for me, it was love in itself and that is what i am here to tell you despite my lost ability to write.
love exists. whatever anyone tells you, don't listen. there IS a perfect happy ending, there IS that snow white picket fence, there IS that stomach flipping, electric bolt giving, giddy mushy madness with another person despite all your flaws and their flaws that survives for so long that you know just know it'll last forever and are still unbelieving when it does.
don't listen to anyone who tells you it doesn't exisit. don't listen to anyone who tells you it only happens once. and don't listen to that inner voice that slyly whispers saying you don't desearve all this.
embrace it. wait for it. your time WILL come, i am living cynical shining happy proof.
but remember that men are manipulative bastards for all that :)
this feels weird
i almost, almost wrote to him and told him that i was in love, crazily trancedentally optimistically posititively in love, but that if i had one wish (and wishing for other wishes doesn't count) i would wish that my one true love could write like he could.
that his random words would make my soul twist and eyes blink, suddenly alone with words again in a world where all holes had filled and all emptiness had fused into the white care bear stare.
but the electricity went, which is rare in this place where the generators are infrequent, the trees are green and the roads are new. and in that profoundity where all blips and hums and haws go silent and the alien rumble of distant cars and rishaws become louder, the moment was lost.
but it was enough to bring me back here, down a forgotten twisted lane of memory. Which in itself is no mean feat. and for that i salute him.
that his random words would make my soul twist and eyes blink, suddenly alone with words again in a world where all holes had filled and all emptiness had fused into the white care bear stare.
but the electricity went, which is rare in this place where the generators are infrequent, the trees are green and the roads are new. and in that profoundity where all blips and hums and haws go silent and the alien rumble of distant cars and rishaws become louder, the moment was lost.
but it was enough to bring me back here, down a forgotten twisted lane of memory. Which in itself is no mean feat. and for that i salute him.
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