Stories for the less sane

Oh, come with me to old

Khyyam and leave the Wise

To talk; One thing is certain, that life flies

One thing is certain, and The Rest lies;

The flower that has once blown, forever dies.

Rubaiyat of Omar Khaiyyam: Quatrain 26

How does one feel when one can feel life slipping out of his hands? How does it feel to see the ebbing waves of a life long lost as you surf through the tsunami of a life newly embraced? How does it feel to bear the accusing stares of a world forsaken, boring into the back of your head, cruelly lashing out to you with the pains and sufferings of generations spent in torment and servitude?

I don’t know what I have experienced today. For all I know, they are experiences of the crypt of forbidden adventures. It will fade away with the morning light as the mellifluence of the music around me drowns me in its melodious notes.

Music is the true essence of a human existence. No, this is not some extremely clichéd way to appreciate the efforts of the Music Club and its bid to create, ‘The B****iest Night Ever’. (Even though no amount of praise can be enough for the brilliant mixture of songs, transcending above the narrow specifications of genre and the musical divide.)

Today is a day of realizations and great expectations. While my past plays Miss Havisham, ever reluctant to move on and flashes images of days of joy, the seductive lure of a future gaudily flashes its beauty in the flickering neon light of its temporary life.

Brilliance of a day (well)-spent is in its temporal beauty. Days are not forever, lives are. How rationalist can we get in a world where survival’s law sees it fit to let a poor child starve, while a rich one does the same, only the reasons at the different poles of the social and metaphysical spectra?

I can see a bird from my window. The bird looks back. It chirps. And then it grows. Grows into a Charizard, a dragon and an Toruk. Are they the same thing manifested in the manifold imagination of an escapist race? Or are they different avatars of the ultimate iconic eye in the sky?

This is insane.

There is no such thing as a black orchid.

This is insane.

I’m tired from talking, Richieu, and it’s enough stories for now.

This is insane.

And the light… The light was unbelievably bright.

This is insane.

Makes you wonder how much of this world is true.

This is insane.

Same thing that we do every night Pinky—try to take over the world.

This is insane.

Issa long way yet, till morning.

This is insane.

It would be a stronger world, a stronger loving world to die in.

This is insane.

And this isn’t Sparta either. So, no semi-naked heroics.

Damnation.


When you’re in a dream and you think you’ve got

You’re problems all mapped out

Pieces of the scheme seem to rattle up

And then to rattle down

And when you start to fall, and those footsteps

They start to beat

Then you know you’re going down

Yes you’re falling on the ground,

And you know you’re going down,

For the last time.

‘Going Down’- Lou Reed