Tuesday, September 02, 2008

My spindly obsession and on why I like cats

lil spidey

My Cat will eat all the spiders.

Cats eat spiders. I have seen it happen. Not once but many a time. They eat all kinds of them. From the small short legged fat butted ones to the spindly legged dark dirt coloured creepy crawler from the bowels of hell, all fair game. I suppose they find them to be exotic. You dont always get to dine on them but when you do, Oh Boy!! mmmm... I mean think about the kind of choices they have. Its like when I have an urge to eat crab. Most people scoop out the meat from the shell but I find that dull. I like to crush it open with my thumb and then crunch on them... mmmm... I love fish. A lot. But crabs, they are a delicacy. I guess the same applies for them felines. Spiders are a kind of delicacy. Like how the sight of a big one gets my heart to go on an Olympic run, I suppose the cats just get plain ravenous.

My morbid fascination/ obsession with spiders leads me to scour through huge encyclopedias on a frequent basis for some really really freaky spidey pics. Yeah, its called know thy enemy. Thank you, Sun Tzu. Sad to say these situations always end up the same way. Me in one corner and the fat old book in the other both engaged in a staring contest, each willing the other to make a move; me for it to come alive and it, well 'it' does not really have a reason. Sooner or later my morbid desire always wins out. I open it again. I need to see them... these demon insects... capable of extreme stealth with their eight disgusting legs, hiding in places we trust to be safe, waiting for that one opportune moment.

Although from a detached point of view, for a brief moment I could say that these little insects who help mankind by eating flies and mosquitoes just want a warm place to live. And they merely are trying to escape when you chance upon them on your favorite quilt.

And now that the brief unrealistic moment of actual truth has passed over us with little to no consequence we shall reconvene to my morbid world where the sole purpose of their existence is to keep me in a perpetual state of fear and paranoia to such an extent that a shadow flitting past in my peripheral vision causes me to conduct an extensive reconnaissance of the general area.

I take sadistic pleasure in watching cats catch a spider. Their obsession with spiders differs from mine merely on the basis of the end purpose. They like to snack on them once they get bored of them. They toy with them and to my infinite pleasure they release them, allowing it to believe for one lonely moment in the middle of excruciating pain, that it can scurry away into safety. Oh! well so much for that, my beloveds will then proceed to crush them with their perfect little paws by tearing it apart limb to limb all the time making sure the last thin thread of life still remains within it. Such marvelous and delightful creature cats are. On the other hand, I just want to swat them into a grotesque mix of broken legs and squished body parts with a few barely discernible eyes dislocated to odd positions, I'm thinking, whats the use of having four eyes if they aren't pointed in opposite directions, and to top it all there is my glutoral cry, claiming a bloody victory, striking fear into their hearts or whatever manifestation of creepiness these demonoids have in its place.

Have you ever seen a spider fall? Let me try to put in simple words one of the freakiest creepiest sights ever to be witnessed by me. A chappal flung from a distance of five meters aimed at a certain corner of the ceiling failed to make total impact. The said surface to air projectile managed to coerce the target to take precautionary measures and eject from the ceiling. I remember watching the next few seconds in slo-mo. My gut wrenching internal conflict between the need to abandon ship and the desire to indulge in my morbid fascination for the enemy resulted in me standing there rooted to the spot. Spiders fall my dear friends, they fall flat , rotating with their own body as axis, eight legs spread out like a fan, slowing down as they reach closer to the ground. Its like a paratrooper from hell. The entire 101st airborne division could not have forced me into such a severe state of inaction like it did. Now when I think about it I can understand the general sentiment of the axis ground forces in France when they looked up hoping to see the clear blue sky but finding the vast sky littered with hundreds and hundreds of slowly descending troopers each rotating like a slow fan. Not that I am sympathetic to their cause, mind you!

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Some more

An autumn wind
through stilled windows
a wind chime echoes



First ray of dawn
upon winter dew
nature stills

Monday, June 23, 2008

Blossoms


I wouldn't dare call them Haiku.... they wouldn't fit the rules..


Reflections on glass
of Life flying past
Neither here nor there



The path lay ahead
upon splashes of light
Warm fragrant breeze




Soft memories
like yellowed pages
Warm morning sun



Soft and burning
the path it cut
pale, alone and unloved



warm bodies in the night
bzzz bzzz
slap!! blood and gore


my favorite...


They tug at your heart
fading,never gone
Bloodstains on white

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Regret

I was packing my things yesterday, stuff that I wanted to move permanently and I came across something. Something that, with time, I was forced to forget. I found your fish and porcupine quill. Tucked away, untouched, in a musty corner of my old suitcase. Found it, and all I could do was just sit there holding on to it with just one single thought in my head. Five years. Or was it six? Of all the things that could have been, we could have...

I held it close to me knowing that you did too...somewhere in a life long lost.

Friday, June 06, 2008

Shamed

Time heals... Everything... Eventually...





Time stilled; My wait prolonged for love the chime
shall bring; Respite my heart sought in sleep
And sleep I found in want; Wretched is time
For my heart it burned, over fire slow and deep
In darkness saw I, soul mine, fostered strong
Cried out, my love, for love unrestrained
'Come', my soul wept, 'in my heart you belong'
But cold it stayed, upon blackness it remained

A caress, soft wind brought from far beyond
Whelmed, a memory revived made me
Of laughter laced in reproach so fond
'I am yours and yours eternally' said she
Love pure; lost I in sweet surrender
Unchained my soul, her eyes with Love tender.

Honesty

I am honestly so full of shit.

Saturday, January 05, 2008

Sinking...

Allow me some leeway here my good people...

Can you believe it? I am so bored... so freaking bored... in office that
i start this blog in a txt file so i can upload it later. As usual I have an ulterior motive: To improve my writing skills to such an extend so that one day i may write and publish my
own book which will go on to win many prizes shooting me into fame; but me being the person i am will shrug it all off and will live life unadulterated, travelling using the money that i earned from the publishers and after long years when age has finally caught up with me and wrestled me to the ground I shall kick the bucket on age, on my terms and get one up on the slimy reaper and as a master stroke leave all my riches to my descendants and as charity and from there on I shall live in the minds and hearts of my readers, as a legacy undying. Nice, isnt it?

Anyway keeping all what i said in mind under layers of misdirection, cunning and innocence I shall continue with my work.

.......... Ok. I am at a loss of words now. Guess, all that took a lot out of me. I am sick of my job, that too just in a week's time. Is that normal? hmm... I feel like quitting. I feel like chucking it all. I hate feeling like that. I hate to be restrained. I wanna be Jonathan Livingston Seagull. I wanna be a lot from a lot of people. I cant think of single person for a role model. I want a lot obviously.
Hmmm... I hate being pulled back. I hate having no control. I hate pretenses but everyone is a victim of that. Cant hate everyone. Reading back, I feel like there's a lot of hate in me for it to be
a good thing. Will I become a sociopath? Maybe hate is too strong a word for what I feel. Hmmm...Maybe detest. You can detest and still live with it. I doubt if you can hate and do so. I am not going to be a sociopath. I wanna be V in V for Vendetta. I want to effect insufferable pain upon those men responsible for the Incident. Dirty thoughts are ok. Everybody has them. Many people look. You cant stop that. Some seek voyeuristic pleasure from it. That is bearable with great reluctance when compared to the execution of those despicable thoughts. Action is not allowable not under any means. Not like what happened. How men turn into beasts on ceding control. Sometimes without.

Why is death penalty such a bad thing? Why should men who have committed such vile crimes be allowed to live? The age old debate of Who gives us right to decide life. What of deciding deciding the fate of one who has done so for another? is it not logical? He sacrificed his right to decide his life the moment he took control of someone else's. Cant this be justice when applied to intentional crimes of such inhumane level ? Why shouldn't a serial rapist be tortured to death? Why shouldn't the sentence for rape be castration? I cant write. My mind is flooded with arguments, counter arguments, justifications, reasoning from both stances. What should be done? What is the right thing to be done? Who decides if its right? Would the things called right change with time? Is it right that there is no constant for right and wrong? I feel frustrated. Everything is complex. A hundred threads tying it together with a thousand other. A system for which there is no right solution. Disappointing.

Thursday, January 03, 2008

Wet!!!!

I am not sure where i should start from....should it be from the night when my two room mates and me wound up having a nice chat with the watchman at three in the morning simply because we couldnt oblige ourselves to be the happy victims of the blood fest organized by our very own Maharashtra State Electricity Board along with the very notorious, Bombay Council of She-Mosquitoes, Thane division. We mounted a counter attack which resulted in heavy losses for the enemy but unfortunately for us their forces far outnumbered us and their reinforcements kept pouring in and there was nothing we could except run and live to fight another day. Needless to say we enjoyed our little tryst with the morning chill and only returned to our beds after we had freaked out our poor watchman.

God must have taken a coffee break on my file because you see things didnt just get better then, they got infinitely hilarious and some more as I woke up early in the morning at nine or so to the frantic shouts of my helpless roomie Ambu. I woke up to find my huge ( like huge in a polar bear: relate to homosapiens) friend perched precariously on his bed like a giant Dodo. unable to comprehend anything i looked for my other roomie only to find a quilt in wild black and white designs wrapped around a deformed god knows what shape with only a deep rumble to give away the identity of that malformed creature. I had a movie moment then, everything just tuned out and i couldn't understand what my bird/bear friend was shrieking, i couldnt understand what was happening.. i didnt even understand why i was awake at that time of the day and all i wanted to do was just go back to sleep. And just like that somebody turned it all back on again and Slowly things started registering in my mind. First, ambu was loud and was talking about water. Second, I could hear a stream near by. Third, my hand felt wet. fourth, fifth and the rest, Water and water and water and so on respectively. I would like to take a kutti break here and say that we did have our doubts about our house... we had a feeling that the broker was getting a sweet deal...we even had divine intervention when the house door refused to open to let us in on three different occasions but we were young and bold and we didnt care.

so coming back to that morning: i really dont know what happened next because its all blurry to me right now, i know that my body reacted with perfectly sequenced steps to face the problem. you see we were flooded. There were three beds, one with my flightless friend, the other with the snoring bulk and then me on my bed, half out of my sleeping bag ( yes, i use one while sleeping on the bed for various reasons that i do not wish to divulge now). All of us in water. the makeshift tank meant for storing corporation water had overflown; my nearby stream! What a finish for such a wonderful night! we had some quality time after that, filled with joyous camaraderie of young men engaged in hard bread winning physical work, in our case, mopping.

Epilogue :
It took three days for the beds to dry and to top it all our room got flooded the day after and the day after that. By then we had become experts at handling the situation. Ambu could make sense now cawing at me and kaushik had ascended to a level of partial awareness during the moments of crisis and i had automated my self completely to do the necessary while asleep and all of us had conditioned ourselves to really not care so that we cud just continue to sleep in our private swamp after the needful was done.


I am tired now and i have a day shift tomorrow. So ill write about the rest later....

Ciao
 
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The Blue Drops by Anish B George is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License.