The Chaar Raasta to Hell!!

We as a nation and a people are most possibly standing at a Chaar Rasta to hell or maybe deliverance. The absolute meaning of this desperate rant lies in all your souls but sit back and think about it. Yes, we have had a terrible few months cursing the living daylights out of the damned Commonwealth Games. We sat and cracked jokes and added to the general sense of apathy that seemed to envelope us like a fucking plague. Now we sit and watch it come while we think its going to fail and so does the rest of the world. Even Pakistan had the nerve to raise concerns of the Games village not being upto their ‘high’ standards. A few corrupt unpatriotic dim wits got together and have managed to orchestrate a blasphemy of galactic proportions as we sat watching it unfold through a dog like dedicated media who also sat and watched the disgusting drama play out its part. Why the fuck did we all sit and watch and people like me sat and typed away at their keyboards while an entire nation slowly walked down the path of shamelessness and on the road to hell. Yes fellow country men, as defined in every holy book till now, we as a collective are going to hell. We have let a great nation with unbelievable resources, people and integrity be judged by a bunch of people who hardly have a nation to call their own.

On the other hand we wait with bated breath for a verdict that has managed to defy all sense of logic and that tiny little thing called law. I’m no political commentator but I sure know that this country cares a damn what verdict comes on 30th yet we all need to fear illiterate buffoons getting onto the roads and make a mockery of our judicial system and the substance of this nation. We all will cower in fear and hide in our houses on what is a momentous day in the history of this nation as the greatest trial it has been through shall finally end. Let no bastard tell you that this country is going to the dogs, this country unfortunately has too many dogs taking decisions for it and too many mute spectators letting these fucked up demented monsters carry on with their own definitions of governance. don’t ever tell me that we voted this government in. I didn’t ask for that wretched Kalmadi to rape the dignity of this country and nor have I ever rented a riot like Mr Muthalik. No I didn’t ask for these guys when i voted in a bunch of ministers I thought could change the way things are. They still can and we need to do our bit.

Learn to be proud of the nation you live in you morons. Don’t crib about all that is wrong like I did in the earlier paras. Travel a little outside your city and look at what this country is before you decide its fate. I have seen it blossom and become a power house because I chose to do so. So turn your head out of the shit you decided to put it in and look at the progress we have made and at the fact that a guy like me can type something like this and not have my head chopped off like in some countries who love to wage war with us. We live in difficult times with thankless neighbours who would love to turn the next tragedy into a reason for conflict.

Rise up and be heard you assholes before this country is eaten up by the shallowness in you.

The story behind Story-On-Board

We all desperately seek inspiration in life and some of us, especially me have to sometimes look really hard and most of the time mistaking a good track on your playlist or that fucking amazing Al Pacino dialogue as that inspiration you have always been waiting but hell damn you if you mistake that moment of bullwash as your ultimate destination in that never fuckin ending journey to what we all call or miscall Nirvana.. Na Na we all have it in the most cliched place of all, that is in that all capillaries, all vessels, all pumping maniac called the heart. But you still need the right grass or shot or just plain need to really get there and then it is a never ending orgasm because life doesnt deal the right set of cards out too many times. I have to thank a friend for finally, unknowingly or maybe knowingly take me to that Mount Kilimanjaro of my inner writer by giving me the simplest tool to find that crazy, whacked out writer in me. It comes out only on that white board and with that black marker and that sober guy who writes mind fucking prose on any other given moment of the day is left behind somewhere as I take over to write a story on that board. It isn’t a big board but it surely kicks ass of all else that is about me because I suddenly know that it wasn’t the various travels or delusions but just a simple case of split distorted personality crying out to be found. Maybe sometimes your best writing is in a polluted ditch somewhere in your fucked up head where the entire menu of junk and management jargons and expectations live along with the disappointments of what could be. Its so strange to know that you are so unpredictable and that even the smallest fucking moment can change it all for you. That’s all it takes because ‘Nobody said it was easy, its such a shame to part’ with the sober self but ‘time to take me to the start’.

Thank you Coldplay and Californication and that bloody demon that finally decided to take a crap in my head. All glory shall be yours. Wishing all my readers many days of disturbed readings of desperate rants from a white board.