confusion will be my epitaph ....

The epitaph of a certain non descript writer named Kilgore Trout.

Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

Or

The animal life is in no way a treat, what can i say confusion will be my epitaph...

To die in obscurity, there, somewhere...

of fatal dream ...

Tralfamadore ...
A planet where there is no concept of time, where one exists simultaneously in all of time. Where time is but an infinite fractal with consciousness being split to be present at many points at the same time, so that while you're aware of yourself as a child,as also of yourself in death.

Its like being part of a never ending panorama, rays of light extending their slender fingers outwards, circumscribing everything in its path...

striking poses

Well, as promised the occupant of this space has promised you his impressions on the past, present and future, put forth with an unbiased sense of sheer mindlessness that he hopes will appeal to you the reader, and make us feel more comfortable with each others presence.

Well the past few months have been ones of much turmoil and upheaval, of changes, of a life characterised as much by its fluidity, and lack of substance as its tendency towards tedium.

So, the writer (not so) a few months back decided to pick up the quill and ink his opinions about the multitude of banalities that consisted his life on paper. Not so long ago, there was a significant hullabaloo over the issue of reservation and the strike that ensued. The writer decided to voice his point of view on the matter and here is the result:

VENI, VIDI, DITTO

The writer has always been accused of coming up short, which may probably be because he is moderately bent. He rejoices in the fact that there are other moderately important people, who share his ideology.
The fire rages on in Delhi, as hospitals have remained frozen for the past 15 days and the heat of discussion continues as to whether just-ice will be done. The fire has been one that not even the water cannons have been able to douse, as the writer has himself been witness to. The talk of revolution has been doing the rounds as the masses have raised their volumes, adding weight to their arguments. And recent news that has trickled down from various conduits have informed us, that the situation had reached epic proportions, almost fittingly at the Ram Lila grounds two days ago. A certain doctor who a long time ago decided to cash into a different beat from that of the heart has been seen striking the right chords for his brothers in distress, apart from numerous others who have unreservedly jumped onto our merry bandwagon. STOP….

The reasons that most revolutions are pointless, is because they end up from where they started, with each asking the other what he’s fighting for. And this simpleton, who wields his pen in naivete, asks himself and you the same question. Has the real issue been lost in a haze of propaganda? For the way things are going we may be striking out before long.

Let us set aside the issue of reservation for a minute. The writer wishes for the people to deliberate about their actions, to look before they leap else they may fall off the edge of reason. We the practitioners of this supposedly noble tradition have seen to have degenerated to the level that we would put to shame our dear friend, the Greek fellow whose words we swear by. We are after all bound by the words of Hippocrates. As doctors, we should be the ones to have the moral high ground, let us use fruits of the education that have been so gratefully bestowed upon us and not let them go sour.

The cause we defend today is one of utmost importance, for we are all born equal, almost and we should live in a world where the opportunities we have are equal too, almost. Fight for what you believe in and do so with all fervour and ardour, but let it not be said of us:
VENI VIDI DITTO : I came, I saw, I concurred.
But instead let it be,
VENI VIDI VICI.

The beginning of an end

"There are things known, and things unknown, and in between there are doors"
JM-An american poet
"There are things known, and things unknown,but in between there's more"
JM-An Indian idiot

So the fateful hour is upon us, the solstice has just gone by and the spotfulness of the sun has provided the right shines(signs, i mean, a bengali slip of the tongue) and I have finally arrived ... the wait has ended for those of you who have been dying to see me splash my literary skills upon this infinite canvas ... (Writer).. looks about ponderously to see a dog thoughtfully licking its tail while simultaneously appeasing its gastronomic tastes with a rather dubious delicacy, which seems rather to be of the excrementous nature. Well, holy cow he thinks, rather sheepishly, this world has gone to the dogs. And after this brief animal escapade he thinks to himself, why do this ?

The love and adoration of his wide eyed fellows at his vision and foresight.
The praise that would rain from the skies like a man releasing his fury after a cold shower
or is it
The satisfaction of letting your tongue wag in an inappropriate manner and yet be pardoned in the name of art and freedom of expression

Tis something i will ruminate upon in the days to come ...

But well for bitter or for verse,
Do come by from time to time,
To share in this terse,
Yet wordy pantomime.

And though i be the master
Of oxymorons, pretend
to overlook this disaster,
the beginning of my end.

And thus begin the chronicles of "The eternal spotfulness of mindless sunshine"

The beginning of an end....