To be or to un-be

There's something about this feeling called 'feeling'.

Have you ever stopped and given a thought as to what happens inside your body and your mind when a particular stimulus is hurled at you. As a reflex you basically react to it. Physically, mentally any which ally... they're all inter-connected. One leads to the other. A classic example is the kiss. I remember when this man kissed me it completely took over my senses. How strange it is that the entire mind blanks out and focuses only on that particular feeling and connection.

When i see maimed children and old persons begging...it tears at my soul. I become numb. It hits the mind first and you are unable to think beyond the sight that you see. it then gets hold of your body and you are rooted. transfixed. Then the feeling of sheer helplessness takes over. You are aware that there are certain things that are beyond your control. This awareness damns you even more. Sometimes, acceptance can be your greatest enemy because it stills your growth.

We meet a person. We realize very soon that this person has everything that we've ever wanted. we're happy. but then doubts assail us. we start suspecting this happiness. we wonder whether we are destined for such happinesses. and then...we go ahead and put an end to it. wow. in the age of stupid, stupids thrive and make others stupid. There's a lot of confusion these days. Men want women who are strong, independent, (some like their women nasty), intelligent...but then... when confronted with such a one..they draw back all scared and frightened. It is quite strange. I mean...whaaa???

I remember having a conversation with this really arrogant and smug Bengali man. He goes..." Im afraid but men are soon going to be redundant." I stared at him. I'd actually tolerated him for 3 days and at the end of it I had decided that I will give him one last chance at redemption. Sigh! I waited for him to continue.. "I look at it this way. Man at 3 levels has been thwarted by women these days. Man as Protector. Man as Predator. Man as Procreator. Women are emerging on top at all three levels. It is shaking the very foundations of our ancient beliefs." I continued staring at him. I was really tired of him. And stretching the conversation would have meant having to listen to him. But a feisty (and super sexy) Bengali woman came to my rescue. She stormed at him.."So..you mean to imply that women HAVE to be suppressed...blah blah.." That was my cue to escape and i gladly took it. The look on his face was worth shooting (with a camera and a gun).... :-))) ... but you know i liked that Procreator, Protector, Predator funda.. hahahaha...its almost like the Holy Trinity...

And the 17 and 19 year olds...

19 year old (boy) “Bai, darwaja kaayko nai kholela hai?”

I hand over the key to him silently. He is half Nepali. Slit-eyes, creased furthermore owing to sleepiness.

17 year old (girl) “Mujhe de. Chaabi kaunsi hai mujhe pata hai.”

He sliced a sullen glance at her and then at me. He walked away. If looks were knives, we would have been shred into pieces. The sparks were crackling wildly.

For five whole minutes we saw him struggling with the 20 odd keys hanging from the bunch.

19 year old (boy) now irritated “Konsa chaabi hai?”

17 year old (girl) takes the bunch from him silently, selects a key and opens the lock. She turns to me and hands over the key bunch. I open the door and wait for him to enter. 17 year old (girl) is waiting on the other side. We are making an effort to not smile but our eyes say it all.

19 year old (boy) studiously refuses to look at either of us. He keeps his things and walks out. As he passes us his face breaks into a smile but he is trying his best to hide it. He says gruffly “Theek hai, theek hai. Hota hai kabhi kabhi.”

Conversations with a 15 year old

It was in Hindi. What follows is verbatim and transliterated.

"So....what do you plan to do after 10th?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know."

"Yes. My mind has become dumb. It is not speaking to me."

"So how are studies going on?"

"Well. Every morning I wake up early. And when I look out of the window I see the first rays of the sun hit that board over there. Nothing moves. Everything is still. Even the leaves. It looks like a painting."

"Why don't you write about this?"

Looks at me with that sidelong glance. And smiles.

"I tried doing that once. Then I felt - whom am I kidding? Am I intellectual enough to write? And then I stopped."

"What happened to you yesterday? You seemed a little off mood."

"Yesterday? Nothing. There are times when I tend to withdraw. When I've had enough. But today in the meeting. I suddenly saw darkness all around me. I did not like it. This blur. This unknown opaqueness. Its not good."

"It is very necessary to be friends with some people and not rub them the wrong way."

I started. I stared. I asked. "What do you mean?"

"There are times when I get beaten up at school for no rhyme or reason. Bullies just pick me and beat me. Suddenly after some days I come to know that A bhaiya and the rest of the gang have bashed those bullies for having beaten me up. This happens because I make sure that I am cool with all the older guys. R bhaiya should be careful. He should not rub these guys the wrong way."

He hangs around. Inconspicuous. You won't even notice him. Even if he passes and re-passes you a hundred times you won't notice him. He has this slouching strut. He wears low-slung jeans and loose t-shirts with sleeves folded. Or shirts with the first three buttons, unbuttoned :). He is very short, very thin, he has dark brown skin, dark and gleaming like freshly polished virgin wood, he has beautiful expressive brown eyes and a smile that can melt a heart of stone. And when you start talking to him you then realize that he is different from the rest. He is deep. He is profound. He is wise beyond his years.

I... In... Ink...

He wore white and black. He has golden hair. His arms and legs are engraved with demonic faces and cryptic shapes. He belongs to the land of orchids and exoticism. He has hazy eyes and a faraway look inside them. He sat at the table and beckoned. A stab of apprehension. I knew he would hurt me. He looked at the various implements...sharp implements (if I may add) that lay around him. And it all began. Three and a half hours. He made my hand rest on his thigh as if to reassure me that the pain he would give me was akin to pleasure. His knee propped mine and he carefully engraved on my skin. Over and over he worked re-layering the contours, defining the shape, shadowing the depths. In between he would pause and survey the art that he was creating. I felt his breath on my skin and I could see the effort. What was the feeling? Did my soul connect with his? Or was it the serene face of Buddha which spurred us into a hazy oblivion where we ceased to be alive to our surroundings? For those three and half hours he and I were two bodyless beings floating in space. Pain receded to a background that seemed so far away. He sat there bent over me at times glancing at me, maybe to check if I was doing all right. And when it was done he sat back. And grinned. “Are you happy? I asked. “Yes, I am very happy,” he said.

It took me time to register the experience. Never before have I felt this way. This oneness with another human being. And despite the pain the beauty that was created had a purity that left me breathless. And I know he was affected by it too. The next day I asked him how on earth did he do it. He shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said.

He is Sia. Artist par excellence. At Al’s Tattoo Studio.

In a frenzy

Dark night, blacker than the satan's soul (oh.. satan has a soul?) ... pause... you want me to continue? then you must not interrupt. are we clear about this one? good.

Now where were we...? Yes...

The night was dark. Darker than satan's soul. blacker than sin. you couldn't see your hand if you were to raise it to your eyes. moon chose to remain undercover. she'd had it with the asshole wind, ripping off the clouds from her body and exposing her to eyes... stars shed their light on earth. and you lay there. your eyes are closed. your hair flowing from beneath your head, like a dark pool. a pool of blood? one eye opens. "what are you thinking?" i start. "nothing", i say nonchalantly. are you watching me? from beneath those lids?

suddenly you get up, shaking the grass and leaves and grit from you body. your movements are sensuous. your hair slithers down to your waist...like a snake. i can almost see the darting tongues. heartbeats quicken as you walk towards me. i have been standing all this while and you are now so close i can see myself in your eyes. "we can't wait here forever. let's go". you turn back and walk with that heavy tread. full hips sway in sync with the feet. "are you gonna stand there all night watching my ass?" Damn... bitch! i walk irritatedly. this is it. no more late nights with her.

Smack my Bitch Up...

She stood there...in red and black...hair teasing full hips...she turned, my eyes dropped down and so did my mouth...that damn butt was the sweetest, the best, it was to DIE for, to KILL for...

WHAP...the heel ground into my jaw, almost slicing it off...if i hadnt shifted in time...it would have been KO the very first round...Na-haa...cannot let this hotness distract me...

I dodged a couple of near-perfect punches. About time i went on to the offense...POW on a flat stomach...phew... I would give everything to dip inside that navel...she straightened, grimaced and frowned at me...

I smiled...i noticed the muscles of her right leg flex...she was readying herself for the lethal scythe...it was her special...it was unpredictable...it could hit anywhere, anytime...i stopped smiling...

She moved in a semi-circle path, grace and sex dripping from every inch of her body...biding her time...waiting for me to lose focus...so she could strike...

i moved with her...i knew i had to be focused...or else it was KO the entire fucking way...

it all happened in a flash of a second...when she flew at me, i just didn't know...but i was prepared with a defense move...and i had her pinned on to the wall...her eyes spitting fire at me...

the fucking button had to plop off from her shirt right at that fucking time and come flying into my eye...blinding me...and then it was a PERFECT ... she punched and kicked and basically went ballistic on me...

In the end...she stood over me...legs apart, batting eye lashes, ample cleavage showing through the almost non-existent shirt...sweet voice said.."and i win..."

Holy fuck...it is gonna be one hell of a night taming this wild cat...

Inspired by this weird ass game called 'Tekken' (I think)...where all these hot women were kicking male butts like BIG TIME...i enjoyed thoroughly... :D

Are we having fun yet?

In a corner of the world... she sits cowering...gazing terrified at all the happenstances...whirling past her..flinching at the slightest sound, eyes and mouth open wide, but the scream is silent...shreds of torn black silks fallen around her...like dead black birds...

Debris on the road...dumped metal heaps...a half building bent with shame... the explosion devoured its roof...a man on the road, a gun shot, bullet ripping through him, he flies without wings, body arched, hands hanging limply, head thrown back, a question in his eyes, "did i just get shot...???" little does he know that he's dead...

An underground basement...monotonous tempo...thud thud thud...strobe lights flashing, purple, blue, green...eyes closed, bodies swaying, lost to everyone, maybe themselves too...

She lies there, black silk sliding off a white shoulder...film of sweat on the rounded curve of an arched breast, head on the arm of a plush purple settee, hair touches the floor, mouth parted wide trying to steal the already depleting oxygen, sinuous body curved like cupid's bow reaching into him, head slowly sliding off the arm of the settee, almost touching the floor...exposing a neck that deserved to be ravaged, legs entwined around him, tantalizing glimpses of a milky white thigh...

He gazes down at her...dead eyes, muscles taut, rippling, a finger following the path made by a drop of sweat, down the flawlessly shaped neck...a neck which deserves to be ravaged, his jaw tightens, teeth gritted...a neck which has been punctured...mini-wounds...desperate search for veins to plunge the needle in...the knife is in his hand, sharp serrated... he surveys her body lying beneath him, the arched breasts, the soft skin shaming black silk, the submission...a hand grips and curves around her vulnerable throat finding the pulse...fluttering heartbeat...the knife shimmers...

She sits there cowering...in one corner of the world...they had warned her about him...but she was powerless...the knife wound on her thigh a testimony of what might have happened if she had not snapped out of the haze...she wondered why she picked up the gun when she left her apartment...

As he took flight he gazed at the sky...a million stars came tumbling down on him...he saw an up-side down world...he saw her face...the gun falling down from her hand..."did i just get shot?"