Friday, September 21, 2012


“So how do I know you’re not a chivato, too, Tony?”
“Hey Sosa, let’s get this straight now. I never fucked anybody over in my life didn’t have it coming to them. You got that? All I have in this world is my balls and my word. And I don’t break them for no one. You understand?”
He felt a testosterone rush, about to gush out of all the holes on his body. That little piece of ‘Scarface’ made him feel like a cigar-munching mafia.  “Why don’t you come out of that damn room and brush your teeth at least, for Christ’s sake?” That sudden scream of his mother broke a few glasses of his daydream wall and made him realize, he was lying on that bed, with his computer, for a very long time. He started walking out of his room with a swagger. He could feel a sense of power. He felt like, “Nobody tells me what to do”. The usual annoying factors from his parents seemed like a poor man’s cry for him, that time. He couldn’t care less about it. His reply for their cry had a flavor of command in it. In the mafia world running on his mind, he started hearing his dog’s barking and granny’s bout with the maid, in an out focus. As his dad went out to his office and mom started her routine cooking process, he was left out in the couch, ending up watching his granny’s favorite sitcom. He couldn’t stand it, when he actually paid an attention to the show. He felt like removing that whole crap from airing anymore, with a single command. But sooner did he realize, he didn’t even have the power to change his very own television’s channel, for, he has to go war with granny, for doing so. His testosterone started calming down and he could feel the reduction of that mafia intoxication. He desperately wanted to sustain that. But the reality didn’t allow him to do so. He tried to plug in his earphones to supply some ‘Godfather’ to retain one. But it couldn’t help, since his mother came out again, shouting at his idle status. He couldn’t help losing his cool this time and started battling with his mother. An abrupt end to the battle left him baffled and he started roaming restlessly around his home. But again his awareness came to play, which reinforced his fading mafia-world attitude, only to chuck all the restlessness and retain his latest gimmick. His will to power craved to command someone, but subtly. So he sat again on his couch with a feel of an emperor, choosing his mom for feeding his appetite. With a smoke-burnished tone he uttered “Mom, I feel like a cup of coffee and I prefer it black”. Taking a pride on the attitude in which he uttered those words, he expected his mom to come running down immediately, abiding his command. She didn’t turn up. He called her again, a little louder this time, “Mom, I’d like some coffee. BLACK!” She didn’t turn up. His voice kept on increasing, with an everlasting “MOM!!!” shedding its entire disguise in the process. Sadly, he couldn’t come out as a winner in that ordeal. That enraged him extremely, to lose his mind and trot towards the kitchen, to yell at her face to face, only to find out she wasn’t there at all, all that time. He felt totally lost now. Any level of awareness couldn’t find a trace of mafia in him anymore. His body went numb and mind dizzied. His mental faculties lost the ability to grasp his state of mind. His uncontrolled temperament started crawling slowly from his feet, lingering all around his body and assembling at his head, to collide and burst out as a loud scream from his mouth. The moment he opened his tightly closed eyes, after letting out the cry, he encountered an eyes, staring deeply at him, politely waiting for his orders. But he couldn’t feel a whit of power this time. After a long tail-shaking wait, the poor thing left the place, without receiving any orders. He stood numb, staring without a blink, at the oscillating tail, as it went back to its kennel. On the out focus of his stare, his television spoke, “I will make him an offer he can’t refuse”.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012


"Striving for something better? well, what is better?!". The thought hit her so hard. Her constant introspection bombarded lots of questions on her. "Why is it so hard to find rationality in men", she thought. "Why rationality at all?", wondered a moment later. She constantly neutralized her questions, put to herself, without any intention of doing so. The solitary travel was playing her mind. She couldn't rest a second, even if she wanted to. Being clueless about the destination of her travel, she was determined, she cuts loose of all the ends clinging her. The emptiness in the train she travels was reflecting in her mind. A 'why?' was followed by a 'why should be a why?'. That never ending paradox was exhausting her. Whilst trying to ponder upon the contradictions entangling her, she observes a laziness lingering around, out of nowhere, only to drop all the thoughts and doze off. But, to her dismay, observation of her laziness pushed her into a new array of paradoxical questions. She felt an urge to not let go of her hunger, in an attempt to focus deep on her thoughts and intensify it. Upon consciously observing that sub-conscious action, which she performs automatically due to an inner setup she did to herself, she saw herself as a creature falling prey for a legend. That exhausted her to a whole new level and she slowly faded away from that thought, buying food with a numb mind. Staring profoundly outside the window whilst eating, she serenely observed the motion pattern of the street lights glowing in dark and configuring an ambiance to suit her melancholy. She would soon realize, her covered up consciousness was deliberately weaving that setup, only to subtly describe the vagueness she was battling. When realized, she felt a pin-prick to her intelligence upon discovering the cheapness of the subtlety, which led her raise a question, "Isn't cliched subtlety becoming cheap or is it just that I am too subtle to grasp it?". The pride she took was debunked by her very realization, followed by another pride. But she was well aware that the debunking is to be continued. She felt like standing in between two parallel mirrors. Never ending images. All she could gather was an understanding she had on her piled up thoughts. Her eternal contemplation slowly drowned her into slumber, leaning on the window and continuing her journey in the abyss, but in dreams this time. She was very fortunate that the street lights were still faithful in preserving the ambiance without her monitoring...