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Regurgitations December 2, 2006

Posted by K in From The Attic, God, Life, Poem.
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Some Old stuff I now proceed to put up owing to an acute case of I-don’t-want-to-write-but-want-to-update-blog 🙂

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This is a simultaneous example of terrible poetry and lying through my pants. I was 14 or 15 when I wrote it and even at that time I knew what trash it was. Why it still lies undeleted is because I take strange pleasure in occasionally(hopefully) spewing utter trash (not to be confused with nonsense, which I delight and pride in 😉 )

The strange land freezes my soul,

I cannot make any friends.

For deep inside, my heart’s calling

Out loud to my homeland.


My home is by the green blue sea

Where cries of the gulls sound through the day

The smell of the sea, the sound of the sea

How I survive without them is a mystery.


The sand at home is golden and warm

I yearn for the feel of its shells.

Oh, the sun’s lazy rays,

I long to bask in there.


My home is a little cottage,

On an island in the sea.

Its rich brown wood

Encloses all my needs.

I had a sandy garden

Oh the marvels I grew in there!

Lettuce plants and bushes of rose

They all grew in my care.


Behind my cottage there grew a tree

So big, so old, oh so green!

On a hot summer’s day I yearn and yearn

To lie in the willing arms of its shade.


No more is that little path

Walked upon by feet

For the door of my cottage is locked and barred

And dusty has grown the friendly porch.


Years ago the letter had come,

And seduced me to a land far away

Money sufficed not the needs

The needs of my hungry soul.


I’ll go back, unlock and unbar that door,

Will sweep all the dust

From my porch floor.

Un-weeded, my garden will spring to life,

My tree will share its shade.

The sand, the sea

Will once again beckon to me.

The gulls, their cries I shall hear once more.

My island will yet be in sight

When I board the homeward bound ship-

And return home once again.

God’s Hand

Same age, written in a moment of I’m-amused, not to be taken too seriously, a funny-funny poem. :eyes: Yup, I realise thats a terrible description, but I’m felling funny-funny, a different funny-funny, at the moment.

A whip, my whip, so handy a tool

It’s shaken and worked up many a fool

It can stir up a storm, or calm a squall

Under its power lie one and all

One crack, a smack, and trees will deliver,

One wave, a swish, and time goes on forever.

One twirl, a flick, will fill a pea pod.

For I am Nature, I am God.

Behold, you humans, you think you are so great

In my whip I hold your fate

One gesture, a mere twitch

Can undo you world, your every stitch.

What stays my hand?

What saves your land?

It is my favourite creation,

It is Man.

 

 

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November 18, 2006

Posted by K in Abstract Ramblings, Death, God, Life.
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There are a few words that you never want to hear. Yet, at the back of your mind, you feel you will. And you do. Are you shocked? Or has that secret fear created an armour that allows you to take it, hardly batting an eyelid. That it turns out to be a false alarm changes little. You will play over that moment again and again, reliving that horror. The scene takes on unrealistic hues.Looking back, its like watching a movie- but the special effects come into play only now. The suppressed emotion, the put up bravado can now safely crumble. Its safe enough to feel the horror, because you know it no longer exists. It’s a moment of self realisation. You know how close you came to changing your life for-you don’t even know how long. The armour rests beside you, moment of weakness over, you put it on again. You can deal with anything. You are not alone, nor are you special. Why should you be special? Are the others exempted? Why you? You thank god that you are, but you realise once again that life’s a ticking clock. Every second knocks off a bit of life as you know it. What do you do? Stand back and watch calmly? Or jump in frenziedly, bare your soul, pour out life at those who matter? But what if frenziedly baring your soul has the same effect a sharp, rusted knife digging out chunks of your flesh? You go your own way, and trust and force.

Slayer’s Christ Illusion controversy October 7, 2006

Posted by K in Abstract Ramblings, contemporary, God, Reviews/Rants.
25 comments

Christ Illusion Cover Art
Slayer’s new album is generating quite a bit of controversy. The cover art has pissed off Christian Bodies in America and now India. They’ve been forced to change their cover for their american audiences, and now, as EMI announced yesterday, they will be pulling off all copies of Christ Illusion from stores, and destroying them.

The objection seems to be largely with depicting Christ as an amputee, and the lyrics also seem to draw some flak, although that could just be a facade. Many bands have objectionable lyrics- I don’t notice purists latching on to them.

I must confess I do not see what the problem is with depicting Christ with a missing eye and limbs, and looking extremely bedraggled. How is it an insult to show someone as disabled? Do they mean to say that people will missing eyes and limbs are dispreputable? That they are imperfect? Or is the problem that Christ, the Perfect Being, cannot be shown to be touched by human suffereing?Did he not take on the suffereing of the Human race? It’s got to show! And wasn’t Christ a human being? And showing a bedgraggled Christ (no where, btw, is it explicitly mentioned that the gentleman depicted on the cover is Jesus; it’s an inference that is drawn. Now whether the inference was meant to be drawn or not is irrelevant- the point is the observer draws an independant conclusion.) can be a mere symbol of the state of todays world- religious and other wise.

Ofcourse the art could be a publicity stunt- and if it is that and only that, then I abhor what they’ve done. Publicity stunts in all shapes and colours are reprehensible- especially in a creative field.

Ok, now I’m not a Slayer fangirl. I don’t like thrash metal. But I have a problem with the problems raised against them –

1) The depiction of Christ on the cover

2) The lyrics of some songs, especially Jihad.

3)The (bad) reputation of the band.

The cover I’ve already gone over, and I see nothing wrong with it. I quite like it. It arouses the same kind of feeling in me as does the Emaciated Buddha. I strongly suspect that the objection raised by the Christian Bodies is linked to their own fears and insecurities about an ideal they are not sure enough of to be secure in. I’m sure Christ is having a laugh, or even solemnly agreeing with the art.
The lyrics; you judge. This is Jihad (written from the point of view of the terrorists)

5. Jihad

[Lyrics: Araya; Music: Hanneman]

have witnessed your death
I’ve seen it many times
Your tortured scrams
Your decrypted little mind
A father’s son
With pathetic eyes that bleed
Twins in the end
Begin and let the brothers fall

I will see you buried alive
Screaming for your God
I will watch you die again for him

God won’t touch what I’ve done
He cries upon my feet
A privilege pain
Beneath buried are your dead
On splintered bones I walk
Sifting through the blood
Besieged in fear
Await the coming of the God

I will watch you die again for him

Blood is raining downward
The stain reflects the sun
Conquer divide within
Terrorize the mind
I have seen the end it’s yours
Rosary in hand
Your selfish flesh it melts
Spilling from the sky

I will see you burn alive
Screaming for your God
I will watch you die

This is God’s War
God’s War
This God’s War
God’s War

War of Holy principles
I’m seeking God’s help in your destruction
Slit the throat of heathen man
And let his blood dilute the water
Bury your dead

Fuck your God erase his name
A lady weeps insane with sorrow
I’ll take his towers from the world
You’re fucking raped upon your deathbed

This is God’s War
God’s War
This God’s War
God’s War
Fucking Holy War

(Lead – Hanneman, King)

Be optimistic, happy and calm
Show no fear or anxiety
Smile at the face of God
And your reward will be eternity
Holy warriors
Your patience will be justified
Everything is for him
You must not comfort the animal before you kill it
Strike as champions at the heart of the nonbelievers
Strike above the neck and at all extremities
For it’s a point of no return for almighty God
God will give victory to his faithful servant
When you reach ground zero you will have killed the enemy
The great Satan

 

Not the most eloquent, or the best written lyrics, but it is meant to be a representation of how the “other side” thinks. Again, i’m not a fan of their lyrics, but i don’t see skin head tendencies in them either.

 

As for their reputation- I heard they got a lot of flak aftr some fanstrashed a seminary on 06/06/06. I don’t have much info on that, so comments will be welcome.

 

To end a not-so-coherent post, this is what a band member has to say about the art-“We wanted Christ in a sea of despair. The first version that came back looked like he was just chilling out in the water!

Faustus’s Fate September 2, 2006

Posted by K in God, Life, Poem.
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Stabbed in the head

Homosexual after death

It’s a brand new world

Portended by age

Ushered in when

Everything

Was just the same.

Pick up a scope

Look back in vain

Two things running parallel

Train crossing train.

A back to Nature

While Man romped on

Disbelief Displeasure

Fear of a punctured faith

If you tested

Questioned

Asked

Or, oh my, Challenged

Stabbed,stabbed,stabbed

M’dear

Right in your head.

Tender fragile unstable?

Is such your faith?

Insecure Superior Intolerant?

Is such your God?

Why

Child

Then fear?

Dug out from the attic… July 27, 2006

Posted by K in Abstract Ramblings, From The Attic, God, Life.
8 comments

Merely to kickstart the blogagain.

Fairies and pixies are not of this world. Much as Enid Blyton and her clan of fantasy writers would have you believe otherwise, these creatures are created so man can have a feel-good factor once in a while. They are distractions from the harshness of the battle of life. They are distractions from the unpleasantness of your everyday hurdles, they are a distraction from me.

I am not really of this world either. How, then, do you know I exist? Maybe because I wasn’t created by anybody to take you into a dreamland once in a while. What am I? Now that’s a difficult question. Lets just say I cannot be defined. Some people perceive me as Fear, some as the Lord of Darkness himself, but what is fear, but a few electrical impulses in the brain; and is there any Darkness, not to talk about the Lord of it, himself? Yet I am not so far removed from the concept of them both. Talk about Darkness of any sort, and there’s fear associated with it. Talk about fear, and most people would tell you in an embarrassed whisper: the dark. Fear of the Dark. When you’re walking the dark road, you’re the man who walks alone. The rustle of a gnarled branch, the shadows from behind, the sense that something’s watching you. You have a constant fear that something’s always there. Maybe you’re not wrong; and maybe when, in bed at night, you feel your hair standing on an end, its not the fear of the unknown. Because you know me. That you don’t want to acknowledge my presence or existence is a different matter.

Spirits, phantoms, ghosts… these are names that have been assigned to the sensation of my presence. Supernatural occurrence, paranormal activity; pseudo-scientists holed up in ancient castles with meters to detect my presence…where does it lead you? Back to square one. Sometimes a few lines jump a little on their monitors and they call a press-conference, only to have their claim counterbalanced by a thousand scientists with even more theories and proof to my inexistence, leading to doubts, confusion, and tales of the Boogie Monster under the bed. What you need is not what you get. You get penny worth bottles of Boogie Monster spray; why would you want to get rid of me anyway? I cause you less damage than you cause yourselves in one day. In a strange way, I am the connecting link between you and yourself.

Perhaps I have been building myself up, wrongly, as a dark, evil power. I did mention that it is difficult defining me. Why am I even bothering to do so? Because it is Time.

I don’t expect you to understand or comprehend the concept of Time. There is a saying, the sands of time doth run through, slip through those slender fingers of Lady Time, as she standeth alone in a quest to finish time. Does she herself understand Time or the purpose of it? Does she know me? Know of me? Perhaps. Does she acknowledge me? Never once in the aeons gone by. Perhaps she has her version of pixies and fairies to blind her. It bothered me at first, how everybody closed their eye to some realities, pleasant and unpleasant. It doesn’t anymore, especially as nobody is immune to it.

Am I the Supreme Power of the universe? Perhaps, perhaps not. Perhaps you have wondered at and even questioned the Big Bang Theory, you most certainly would have questioned the theory of spontaneous creation. After all, what are physicists but a bunch of fellows with a line of university degrees and a wild imagination that they kid themselves is science. How advanced IS this science of yours? After all, its so basic that you can even test it sometimes. You cannot test the Big Bang, you cannot test Stephen Hawking, so does that make them Science? Who knows, least of all, them.

Ever wondered where it ends? After all, doesn’t everything have to have a boundary, even the universe? Perhaps it is contained, perhaps it is not; perhaps I know the answer, perhaps I don’t.

Perhaps I know of others like you, not of your world, but not fictitious like the fairies and pixies either. Perhaps they know of you, perhaps they are you. You wouldn’t know and I would never tell you.

Those of you who rant about God and his various classifications would call me Satan if I questioned Him. And if I didn’t, the agnostics would term me a fool. But do I question Him? Perhaps I AM him.

Is your world a lie? Should you trash your science? Perhaps. But then you would have nothing left, would you? Just a big empty question mark, a null, an endless void? Perhaps just thinking of me inspires a sense of emptiness, of loneliness, of insignificance. I wouldn’t tell you what to do or what to think, only to think. For as long as you think, you will sense me, feel my existence. When the day comes that you go through this diary entry of mine that I am revealing, and don’t agree or disagree at any point, that will be the day you know you are lost. Perhaps such a thing has happened before, maybe I have seen many such happenings, maybe I have seen none.

Maybe someday you can put an age to me, but I doubt you will ever reach that stage. You will never reach that stage where you can define or even feel me to a large degree; if and when that happens, you will become me.

Is anybody then supposed to find an answer to me? Most definitely. The day you stop looking for me is, perhaps, the Doomsday that you like to talk about.

What matters is that I exist. I am not bad news, but am I good news? I have revealed myself endlessly to each and everyone of you when you weren’t looking, will you prepare to look? There is no reason for you to look though. You are not deprived of anything through your ignorance of me. However, this I can promise you: when you discover me, you will have Raihzorrh; a reason, an answer to everything.

Is that enough to motivate you? I await to see.

 

I Believe in God April 25, 2006

Posted by K in Abstract Ramblings, contemporary, Death, God, Life, Politics, Reviews/Rants.
6 comments

I am inexplicably loyal to NDTV. It’s got nothing to do with the news they show; after all, every body in the business knows when there’s a blast or a fire, and they all seem to have enough moolah to buy a million Qualises that go zooming to the scene of interest. Its kind of stupid, actually, the way they are so desperate to prove that they and not the competition were the first to report the news. What do I care if NDTV flashed news of the Bihar air crash a few bulletins before Aaj Tak? If I were a relative, then I’d either have got the news directly from the scene(unlikely, but possible) or have had a few more moments of blessed ignorance. The mad scramble is sadly reminiscent of little kid fights, when children fight each other to be the first to present the days rose to the revered class teacher.

No, I think I like NDTV because of programs like We the People, Big Fight etc. True CNN-IBN is replicating some of those programs- after all, where did Sardesai come from? But NDTV had them first. Its their baby, and they get to keep my continued admiring glances. We The People is something every Indian ought to watch and be proud of.. True the audience is mainly made up of people who receive urgent phone calls disguised as YOU’LL BE ON TV! phone calls, but those people do get a chance to participate in a process of democratic debate. I am glad I live in a democracy. It might be a hollow democracy, a democracy of the elite, the mainstream India that is a part of the much boasted of ‘biggest democracy’, but it is still much more than what Nepal has of now.

This got driven into me by Maidenrays who posts on a forum I frequent. She’s from Nepal, and was naturally affected by the conflict raging there. She came online some weeks ago, and wrote that if things calmed down she would be able to go home that night; otherwise she would have to spend another night at the office.

Not a big deal, if one needs to come down to it. Many people spend nights at the office for whatever reasons. But atleast the democracy I as an individual, as a part of upper class India ensures that I do not encounter day to day in-your-face oppression.

Ofcourse this doesn’t mean that I sit back on my haunches and admire a job well done, for one needs only to be complacent to grab the poison leaves instead of natural toilet paper.

‘India’ is a non-entity. It cannot be a country. It is too diverse, but this diversity instead of fetching unity, fetches conflict, identity issues and, did I mention, conflict? To show you how this ‘unity’ doesn’t exist, let me ask you to look at Indian Literature. What is the ‘unifying’ factor between a Mahapatra and an Ezekiel? Between a writer from Meghalaya and Karnataka? Many people have tried to define Indian Literature, but the definition doesn’t exist. It is too vast, too varied for one to find a common ground, unless it be the ground of it being Indian. And I’m questioning the concept of India, aren’t I? For those who would like to read more about the problems of an “Indian’ literature, I would advise a perusal of Shormishtha Panja’s very interesting essay in Many Indias Many Literatures.

And because India as a country is such an unviable concept we have singular disparities arising out of superfluous things like caste, class, gender. See, I have this little pet theory. I think man has this primal urge, greater than even that of sex, to rise above other men. Everybody wants to be different, and this difference translates into many facets of one’s personality. Because man wanted to be different, and better than the person next door (a twisted form of survival of the fittest? A chronic state of competition?) he invented religion; gender differences; class differences; infact any and everything is enough to drive home a difference. Really, sameness is not so much ignored, as brushed under a humongous carpet. You rarely have a bunch of people celebrating humanity; atleast not the bunch that has the power to change all our lives. And it’s a strange, vicious cycle; the ones who are different change when they rise to a similar position. Sorry, Mr. Premchand, But Algu and Jumman don’t seem to exist in the world I live in. But-I’m straying from my topic.

What I mean to say is that larger the boundary, larger the competition. Larger the number of differences, larger the number of conflicts. Countries should be created purely because of administrative needs( I DO need administration; I rather believe in the chaos theory) and the basis of division should be similarity and most definitely not far-fetched, exotic, intoxicating concepts of ‘diversity’. If India would split up into 26-wait,now, how many states do we currently have?- countries, there would be less and more conflict.

Sigh. I’m rambling, but I do have a point. Sad thing is, too many prickly issues in the world today stands at a stalemate. Do the right thing, yes, Michael Moore, for what else can one do? But really, the Kali Yug needs to end. Most religions seem to agree on that.

Straying YET again, Kierkegaard has a point. Too many issues, and too much news can be destructive. It can lead to intellectual, empathatical, ideological burnout. You can be pulled by 5-6 different strings at the same point, the result of which would be that you are where you are when you picked up the newspaper-eager to make a difference, but unable to. But please do not pick an issue randomly. That is stupid Mr. Kierkegaard. If you have no reason to pick an issue don’t. Stay issueless.

And if the title of this post seems unconnected, it isn’t. It’s what gives me hope and truly lights my way.