A Brief Rant from a News Viewer

I would really like to write something witty about current affairs for a change, but the brain wants to go on a rant today, especially at the  omnipresent "Breaking News" ticker plastered like Band-Aid across the bottom of each and every news channel I open these days. Not to give you the false impression that I am a qualified expert on such matters though. Not for me the morning breakfast show, nor the matinee slot with the afternoon cuppa and certainly not the prime time telecasts with hyper-charged anchors and panelists who wreak havoc on the poor unsuspecting tables beneath their emphatic palms (rather like the flimsy tables that keep breaking at the drop of a hat on those wrestling shows that I watch inspite of being a grown-up and responsible tax-payer). I am but a dilettante, a butterfly if you may that skips from flower to flower, sipping but never partaking of my fill at just one place. And news channels rank slightly above mushrooms on that totem pole. But I do look in once in a while, and I don't like what I see much.

There is always an impassioned issue and equally impassioned personages discoursing heatedly on that issue. There is always a blow-by-blow, minute-after-minute, Botox-plus-Botox cacophony which somehow numbs me into a blankness that no emotion permeates. Probably my malfunction this, but the information overload just gets too much to bear after a point of time, post which I switch off completely and turn to a double espresso and studied cynicism about the world around me. Politicians suck, athletes dope, businessmen cheat and celebrities cavort. That is my worldview now, barring a few instances that give rise to a little flutter of hope before that also gets crushed under the overwhelming bilge surrounding it. I know I pontificate from a shaky podium at best; I am no saint that is guaranteed a green card to St. Peter's gates (or Indra's gilded halls if I stay true to the religion I was born with). I am a common man with common foibles and bellyaches about a faithless immoral world that doesn't give the common man a break. I am Joe Nobody, whose brains are moulded by the latest fibre optic network in vogue. I would probably have an aneurysm if you told me to come up with an original thought. But I am also increasingly worried by my increasing nonchalance and lack of concern for shit that is going on around me. Rather than wading in knee deep in it I am cooly sipping a Mai Tai and watching the few who give a damn struggle with the ginormous task of cleaning up the plumbing.

About time I lent a hand innit? Walk the walk and all. I am doing that, bit by slothful bit. I hope Newtonian physics will take over at some point of time and some decent momentum will be achieved. I hope some day I can actually make some tangible infinitesimal difference to another electron at least. Till then I will watch my fellow countrymen get airlifted one by one into helicopters and wonder why the hell so much havoc could not be prevented. I will probably watch this latest reality show on mute though. Any more of the accusations and counter-accusations and I will probably have an epileptic fit. 

Repentance

Been watching a lot of anime this weekend, so maybe that is the inspiration for this. Not a complete story though and hopefully I can develop this into something more later on.

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The blood dripped slowly down her extended hand, the hilt of the dagger barely clasped in her trembling grip. Her face was chalk-white, with twinkling drops of sweat making their steady track down the ridge of her elongated cheekbones into the void below. She tried to say something, but her will had completely deserted her now, that last thrust taking every remaining ounce with it. Her frame undulated erratically, the random heaves and grunts mirroring her arrhythmic respiration and turbulent mind. She would not have been standing but for her tenuous grip on that hilt that was stuck into her opponent's torso. Her guard was completely open to any counterattack, but his blade lay uselessly in the crimson pool inexorably widening around him. This battle was well and truly over.

Her head was feeling light as blood poured serenely out of the many cuts and gashes on her own person. Never had someone pushed her so far, to within an inch of her death, and for that her opponent was to be admired. She was the chosen one after all; a noble, gifted by birthright and honed by the best teachers her land had to offer. She had forded mighty rivers, conquered majestic mountains, roamed the length and breadth of this world and the various adventures that it offered. She was one of their best, among the fiercest warriors that ever roamed this realm; and yet...yet...this heathen had reduced her to this pitiable condition!

She let go of the hilt in self-disgust and staggered back, willing herself not to collapse and further extend the ignominy of her situation. Somehow she managed to make it to a nearby railing and leaned gratefully against it. Her vision was getting blurry now and the blood streaming freely down her forehead wasn't helping, but she didn't even have the energy to wipe that away. She took deep ragged breaths in an attempt to calm down her adrenalin-loaded nerves and bring some sanity back to her world. This can't be happening, her brain was screaming, this has to be a nightmare! But the blood was real and so was the opponent standing in a pool of his own blood.

She marveled at how he could still be standing. Surely there can't be anything left in him! His body was festooned with tattered skin and gaping holes, including the one an inch from his weakening heart from which the hilt of her favourite dagger jutted out. It had been the perfect move, a desperate but successful gambit that decided life-and-death battles such as this. She had taken his hit, dodging enough at the last moment to not get pierced in any vital organs before unsheathing the hidden dagger in her sleeves and piercing through his now open guard. But even in that split second he had enough speed and energy to move that vital half-inch that saved him from certain death. Her eyes were still staring with disbelief at this demon that stood before her, this greenhorn who no one ever heard of and who shouldn't have lasted ten seconds against her.

Movement! He moved! What? How? How could he still move? How could he be losing so much blood yet even now reaching slowly for that dagger buried in his chest! She stared in utter disbelief as he grasped hold of the hilt and with a slight grunt yanked it out of himself. The sudden spurt in blood flowing out his wound made him go down on his knees, but he still managed to somehow tear some strips out of his ragged sleeve and fashion a crude compress on it. She tried to get over her initial shock and attack him, but her legs refused to move. It was as if a giant hand was keeping her pinned against that railing, and it was all she could do to breathe. She could only watch in growing astonishment as the man finished bandaging himself and started picking up his sword. Impossible! That arm was completely useless! Not even the best medics in the kingdom could ever heal that ragged hunk of flesh! But slowly, surely, the fingers that should not be moving clasped the hilt in an almost loving embrace and the man who should not be alive got to his feet with the sword hanging by his side. Impossible! IMPOSSIBLE!

He now started to trudge towards her, his sword hanging loosely by his side. She tried to struggle up, to do something, anything; but her power, her much vaunted, feared, awe-inspiring terrible power was exhausted, consumed by this demon-incarnate who even now looked at her with inscrutable eyes as he made his inexorable way towards her. There were no guards to defend her now, no secret reserve of power that she could yet tap and emerge triumphant. This well and truly was her death approaching her, cold cruel death that made no distinction between nobles and commoners and claimed everyone equally for its own.

He was now standing over her, that young unworn face implacable as always. She felt so small right now, lying at the feet of this monster who simply would not go down. His sword quivered as if about to move for the fatal strike and she reflexively closed her eyes.

"Look at me!" he thundered.

She opened her eyes and stared grimly into those bottomless grey eyes.

"I'm going to kill you now".

"I know", she replied laconically.

"Aren't you going to beg?"

"No"

"Why not?"

"There is no honour in begging".

"There is honour in killing innocent villagers then?"

"They were enemies of the state!" she shouted, her anger suddenly giving her energy,"Insurgents! Filth! Vermin!"

"Not all of them."

"I don't give a damn! This is war, war has casualties. We didn't seek this!"

"You did not seek this?" he snarled through clenched teeth, "You DID NOT SEEK THIS!"

"NO!"

In a burst of motion too quick to even follow, the tip of his blade pierced the soft skin of her neck. It was not a killing move, but enough to draw a trickle of blood.

"This is your doing!" he raged, waving his hand at the ruins of a once prosperous community behind him, "This is all your doing! You cut them down where they stood, slaughtered man, woman and children like stray dogs! And for what, hunh? WHAT? Your stupid laws, your stupid tyrannical state that has smothered their hopes and dreams for generations!"

"Don't be naive!" she replied back equally fiercely. This rabid attack at all she held dear was too much for her to bear. "We give structure, moral, code, justice! We raise men from beasts! We create beautiful cities and prosperous communities! We are not like you rabble who want nothing more than to return us back to anarchy!"

She paused, taking heavy gulps of blissful air as her would-be executioner surveyed her impassively before leaning in towards her.

"Was this necessary?" he sighed. She looked up surprised. The anger had suddenly gone out his voice, to be replaced by a heavy sadness that was literally weighing him down.

"Answer me!" he said, louder this time.

"Was what necessary?"

"Was all this...this massacre...so much blood...was all this necessary? Do you really think you did the right thing?"

"The law says..."

"I DON'T WANT TO KNOW WHAT THE LAW SAYS!" he yelled with such force that she recoiled involuntarily, "WOULD YOU HAVE KILLED ALL THESE PEOPLE!"

She looked out behind him at the corpses littered on the ground, including the guards that he had slaughtered before she started fighting him. Grass, tiles, clothes, bones; even under those dark dark skies everything gleamed with a crimson hue. It was a psychotic's canvas, just blood and more blood everywhere. She had never ever seen so much blood in her entire life.

A chill wind whipped through the air, dragging stray leaves stained red behind it. She watched them flutter by as her eyes suddenly started watering. She tried hard to control herself, but couldn't prevent a stray sparkling teardrop from rolling down her grimy cheek. 

"No", she whispered.

That same impassive stare, the same steady hand on his sword.

"Again", he whispered.

"No."

"AGAIN!"

"NO" she screamed out defiantly. "NO NO NO! I WON'T! I...I..." she gulped, tears streaming freely down her face now. "I won't!" she finished, before breaking out into sobs.

The greenhorn continued to stare at her as she buried her head in her hands and wept uncontrollably. Then silently, imperceptibly, he moved his sword away from her neck and gingerly sheathed it. She looked disbelievingly as he turned around and started walking away into the shadows.

"WAIT!", she screamed. He paused and half-turned towards her.

"What now?" she cried imploringly, "What do I do now? How do I go back?"

"Go back to what?" he murmured.

"My home, my liege, my life..." she broke off, choking up, before continuing, "How do I live with meaning and honour! I, who could not even beat a village bumpkin and uphold the law!"

His teeth gleamed in the dark night.

"You don't."

She stared wide-eyed at him.

"You get well", he continued, "you train, get stronger, faster. You look at the world, the pain, the suffering. You look at your justice and how fields like these run red with blood at its behest. You open your mind, as I have, noble, and when you have finally seen the truth come find me."

"How...how will I find you?"

He guffawed at that.

"By the time you are ready, I'm sure my fame would have spread enough. I will also be training to be stronger you know", he concluded with a wink, before turning around and proceeding onward.

She didn't stop him this time, just kept staring at those blood-spattered clothes until they vanished into the darkness. The sound of running footsteps was intruding into the welcome lassitude that was now enveloping her conscience, like irritating flies on a sticky summer morning. Ah what she would give for a glass of cool ice water now, she thought as she drifted off into unconsciousness, maybe something sweet to go with it too. But her last conscious thought was of that inscrutable face and the blood-red field and she knew she would never be the same again. She won't, she simply won't...      

Spittle and Moonshine

Take a gander. Take a long LONG gander. Can't remember the last time I did that at least. Can't remember the last time I sat like this with a clear(?) head and clearer(??) thoughts that flowed effortlessly like a warm summery brook off my buzzing brain into whatever form or substance my medium took. I type what I know not, I pontificate when I believe not, I crave which I need not. Meandering balderdash this, but I haven't done this in a while. Please bear with me if you can.

I live a tough life by all accounts, though I really don't believe that truth be told. There is a lot of stress yes. Expectations and tempers run high, both on and off work. I am not quite my usual equable self. But I survive you know. I make it work, somehow, anyhow. I sleep less, I run around like a headless chicken, get more brickbats and approbations than I used to, but somehow the darned leaky coracle sails on. Drowning rat that I am I keep frantically bailing the water out with a bucket just a little bit too tiny, but gosh dang it I do that with a silly maniacal laugh on my face and a frantic hand waving at the elements! And I use outdated words from the times of R.L. Stevenson like 'coracle' to make my point, so I am putting the 'hip' in hipster too. Or 'tummy', to judge by my 'slightly' tighter trousers.

This should be one of those passages that make no value addition whatsoever to your lives. 'Tis hard enough as it is making sense 15 hours a day in office, not to mention staring at the same 14" of TFT almost every waking moment of my weekday (and many of my weekends too). That being said, I also don't want this to be an off-putting rant on the rancidness that is the corporate world. I chose my bed, and dang nabbit I will lie in it now (notice hipsterity again, which is probably what a senior would nickname his / her 3rd hip replacement). This piece of literary garbage is nothing but a glimpse into what happens when you give me 30 minutes of peace and a laptop with enough charge and nothing to watch. So here we are, dear reader, while I contemplate assaulting your senses further with dirty limericks. But that'd be too much effort and creativity down the drain. Better save that for my next salvo at the workplace, when I bring "out of the box thought process" and "synergistic competencies" to own your ass! Not to mention "best-in-class work ethic" and "diligence beyond the call of duty"! (I hope I get a good recco for this boss!) So instead, I will discuss certain metaphysical musings of mine with you -

1. The Big Bang: I want this issue resolved ASAP. I mean really. So much time and effort and money expended, and for the love of god I still can't figure out what Penny sees in Leonard!
2. Narendra Modi: What gives man! I like the "tea" funda as an avid tea afficionado, but surely someone told you about those Tea Party schmucks across the Atlantic!
3. Deepika Padukone: Where does the midriff end!
4. Japanese Anime, Manga, & c.: What is it with the boobs! Is it aspiration or compensation? And do your kids really need so much silicone to digest cereal with?
5. Swedish House Mafia: Why? Why? Why?
6. Yash Birla: "What" are you?        

Notice the cleverly placed quotation marks for extra emphasis, so that even drunk retarded (apologies, I meant mentally disabled) rabbits can drool their way through these gems. I am nothing if not user friendly, though you probably have a headache by now and are dearly wishing that I wrap this up and run into a wall or something. Or maybe you crave your usual fix of alcohol / ganja / coke / sex / iguanas &c. Or maybe both. Not for me to think (especially the herpetophilia, you sick pervert). Do what you want with your free time. You can count your lucky stars I don't get much of it, else you would probably be locked up in a loony bin by now. For now you'd have to be content with banging your head against the screen and wishing that you had never opened the blasted link that I so helpfully posted on Facebook. But that's the thing innit! Put an interesting enough but obscure title, throw in some big words and voila! Another intellectual claptrap with potential hashstag opportunities (my full consent of course, I am a glory hog after all)! At the end of the day, as I stated somewhere in the beginning of this ego trip, the past five minutes added zero value to your already burdened lives. I, however, got to vent. I can sleep in peace now hopefully and not dream of 'index' and 'match' functions in neon-lit lattices with serpentine numbers. Maybe a good dream for once, of liquorice and unicorns and a hopelessly addled leprechaun. Gorblimey that'd be a hoot!

Apologies for the hipsterity. Won't happen again by Jove!