It wasn’t a particularly hot or humid night in the city, but she felt a bead of perspiration roll down her spine; a cold sweat. She didn’t really feel like she was taking a casual midnight stroll in her favorite city, not with three men shadowing her while she walked at a brisk pace down a deserted road to nowhere.

Of the three shadows, there was one that lurked completely out of sight, unknown even to the other two. The big man with the backpack; the contents of which, looked like the working tools of a seasoned torturer. He could very well be the most dangerous of the three but, it wasn’t him that she was really worried about tonight. He was the known devil.

The other two were much closer, maintaining a constant distance, blocking every exit she could possibly take if she decided make a run for it back. They spoke to each other in whispers, with the occasional muffled laughter that sent shivers down her spine. The one that did most of the laughing reminded her of the hyenas she used to see on those wildlife channels, a predator. She would look back every few seconds to get a good look at them and he would smile at her. It was the most sinister thing she had ever seen, the face of a madman, with teeth that would probably bite the hand that feeds. The third man was the one that didn’t fit in the picture. He looked like a schoolboy, the kind that always attended class but never came out to play. He was the mouse that lived in the dark. He didn’t speak much but he never took his eyes of her, watching her every move.

The road ended at what looked like an abandoned mill, they where closing in on her. She ran into the abandoned mill and looked for a way out.. she didn’t find one. Panic gave way for cold fear that seeped into her very bones, her hands and feet were now shaking uncontrollably. She moved to a corner and she couldn’t bring herself to turn back and face her shadows.

Then one of them spoke.. “How are you feeling tonight?

That did it, she stopped shivering, only to realize that she was now crying as a painful memory revisited her again like a reopened wound.

She was holding the bandaged hand of her elder sister who laid in the hospital bed of the ICU, her brother standing beside her seething with rage. He was still in his army fatigues and he didn’t look anything like the loving brother that celebrated Raksha Bandhan with them two weeks ago. He was now the angry, inconsolable brother and she was the helpless grieving sister. Their beautiful, soon to be wed elder sister was now battling for her life.

In a broken voice and in between labored breathing, she whispered to them ..

“He asked me how I was feeling at first, and.. then many times later that night. That’s.. all he ever said.. how are you feeling tonight”

She died two days later after succumbing to internal injuries

She was surprised at how quickly her anger helped her overcome her fear and replace it instead with courage. She wiped away the tears, reached into her bag, turned back, pulled out the gun and leveled it purposefully at the speaker, looking at him straight in the eye. It was the mouse and he certainly wasn’t expecting her to pull out a gun on him. He slowly raised his hands up. It was now his turn to cower in fear. The hyena was quick to realize that all her animosity was aimed at his friend and slowly took a few steps backwards but a pair or hands reached out from the darkness behind him and snapped his neck with a very audible crack. The known devil stepped out of the shadows as the lifeless body of the hyena hit the floor. The big man paused to break one of the two colorful sacred threads that was bound around his right wrist before pulling out a blowtorch and pair of handcuffs from his backpack.

The mouse now looked more confused than afraid as he looked at the big man who was walking towards him and then back at her.

Dangerous” She said as she cocked the gun “I’m feeling particularly dangerous tonight



**This story was inspired by recent events**


Hold your fire

Do you remember your childhood fantasies? They would perhaps now seem like pure and untainted dreams, more vivid with light, in a time when the future seemed without limit. Almost like being in love. And you’ve been in love, almost everyone has.
It’s not that I’ve never fallen in.. I’ve felt that hormonal surge, that particular longing, that feeling of comfort with someone else. I’ve felt that many many times and I have memories to prove it. Not flames, mind you; not flames anymore but embers with it’s comforting light.

But to love, to really love.. I don’t really know how that works but I’d imagine that one must let go of everything one knows, of everything one holds dear, one must open ones self up. Love after all, is the grandest emotion of them all. Many layered, varied ingredients give varied levels of the same emotion, Never easy.. I know, but if you want to feel that fire, you have to risk getting burned.


I used to keep my emotions in a wooden box but they kept escaping. So i wrapped my emotions in clingwrap plastic and lead foil but they still managed to find a way out. I locked my emotions in a wooden box in a velvet pouch and i put the pouch inside another wooden box… Didn’t work, never does.

Throw the box in the river, bolt the doors, pull the blinds, cover your head with a blanket… You can try to fool yourself into not feeling anything but what you cast away will surface again, come back sliding under the door, filtering through the blinds, tap you on your shoulder, look you in the eye and flash a big toothy grin.

Some people are like that… The less real the object of their desire, the more real their obsession. But that explains nothing. I have real desires, i have no obsession. I own them, they do not possess me. They are at all times under my control… a controlled loss of control. I cant fight it but I can have it punch me with velvet lined, cotton & bamboo fiber padded boxing gloves.


In Continuum

Time, it seems to me is false. A sensible dimension in physics, but truth be told; arbitrary. We are told it is a continuum, no space between one instant and the next, no hairline crack between being and not. But there must be a transitory state, however fleeting, however illusionary; a moment where an arrow in flight is neither here nor there.

Things happen so fast; you are birthed, you fall in love, you age with every wrinkle. Ages and eras crammed into the tiniest bits of time; the briefest moments are the very ones that you wish you could capture, dwell upon, live in; We want to, but we can’t …. Good thing that


Second Skin

Ever had the feeling of being limited by your body? Like your spirit is too large, too savage, too bright a light to be confined in this human flesh? Would you prefer being a winged creature to take flight to the skies, or a powerful and ferocious wolf?

In our world, the weapon has replaced the soldier. But the desire to maim with ones own hands, to rip intimately into another’s flesh is still alive. I watched this movie the other day, where the protagonist and his fellow warriors battle an army of wild savages. The savages wore bear skin and believed themselves to be bears as well. They wore the skin as a kind of armour, making them invincible. Makes you wonder….. why it didn’t work for the bear.


Update 18/01/2012

You work with what you have. The very definition of art, is to take a thing rooted in reality and transform it into a thing of imagined beauty. At least, that is the goal. Achieving it though, is another thing altogether. Genius, talent, vision, inspiration… words, bandied about all too frequently; necessary of course but not quite sufficient. What the artist really requires is the patience to do it right.

I Hope I don’t get  lazy before I get busy with my latest interest, bought myself an expensive toy and I hope it’s worth it.


Quest for the Promise land’s Promise : The Man From Earth

Part 1

I had been watching him for quite some time now. He looked like he might have some answers.

He mostly just sat there on a rock that looked like a toadstool, day after day, week after week, observing the happenings around or just gazing into the rain. There were rumors that he was an enlightened one. That particular suspicion faded when he took to carving tiny boats out of wood, rigging them with lettuce leaf sails and launching them in rainswept gutters. Most people kept away from him.
Yet, nobody was ready to label him a bum or a lingering loafer; his presence was too strong, his demeanor too cool. There were those, mainly women who did speak to him. They couldn’t seem to resist for he looked quite handsome. His long hair framed his face with its storybook of scars, in a manner that made it look more intriguing. The frequent rains that washed him, a predominantly vegetarian diet and the life of a man who was free to do as he pleased gave his complexion a rich glow and his eyes were pulsating jets of deep brown energy. When he spoke he used grand syllables moderated and calmed to an extent that he sometimes sounded like he mumbled. He projected the air of a wise man and of a rogue, an exhibitionist yet deeply secretive. Once in a while a woman would sometimes stop and kneel hesitantly beside him, kneeling so they would be at eye level and so they wouldn’t be overheard,and say, with varying degrees of embarrassment, ” I see you here a lot”
“Yes, I’ve been watching you too” he’d reply. Though that was not always true, it probably didnt hurt his conscience, not when the reply generated an almost visible shiver down their spine.

“What are you? I mean who are you?”
“I’m Dubbha, the enlightened one, friend of both the Almighty One and the Fallen One.”
That usually stopped them. Slightly confounded, the woman would take a long confused look at him. Then just as sweetly and shyly as she knelt beside him, she’d rise muttering “You take care and have a good day” or something as general as that and walk away, seldom without a wistful glance back over her shoulder.

I decided it was time I talked to him. So I was about to take Jackson(my dog… plz refer Part 1) and walk up to him but stopped when I saw someone else walking up to him, this time it was a man.

The Man:”Good Sir, I was hoping you would have the answers of life, of its beginnings and its meaning”

Dubbha: “Ah, in the beginning there was the Word, there is written evidence that proves that. But the mystery, the unforgivable omission, what the written evidence fails to mention is…. which Word came first? Was it the word for ‘chicken’ or was it the word for ‘egg’???”….

Any hopes that I had to finding what I wanted got shot to hell…
“Bah… if this guy is the Enlightened One, then I’m the Enlightened Two”

Jackson: “Woof”

I turned away and continued my journey in search of …… I wish I knew what.