Shriek

Oh why don’t you leave me alone??
Why not?
Can’t you see I’m plunging
Headlong into the deep
Caves of my mind,
Looking for my pet bats
To tear up my flesh?
Can’t you see I’m busy
In gouging out my eyes
So that I can see the truth?
Can’t you see I die
Because I want so hard to live?
Oh why? Why did you?
Why did you leave me alone?

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Posted in poem

Let’s Block The Feminists

So a stand up comic has been accused and convicted by Twitter court of sexual harrassment. The irony is, this particular comic was a vocal feminist and a woke (in contrast to the rest of presumably asleep humanity) who had hounded a lot of people on Twitter for being misogynist. The bigger irony is that he was brought down by a woman belonging to the species called feminist, a species that is worshipped as some sort of a major goddess by woke liberal males. The specific acts mostly consisted of his soliciting nude pics from many women and sending his dick pics to them. This was considered to be heinous sexual harrassment, though it wasn’t really clear why these seemingly intelligent women didn’t perform the simple measure of blocking this guy and avoiding seeing his presumably unaesthetic organ of procreation. Or maybe I’m just a dense guy who does not understand the value of making mountains out of molehills (I don’t refer to the size of the organ here) in promoting one’s career and popularity. Because in this era of social media, you don’t need talent to succeed – you need outrage.

This public shaming of the comic set off a series of serious disclosures, with many women coming up with their stories of sexual harrassment, many with screenshots of DMs and WhatsApp conversations with the predator males as proof. Some of the tales were pretty horrific, with women having been subjected to forced kissing and groping which were disturbing to read. But a lot many consisted of men asking for sexual favours from women, admittedly in ways which were crude, unmannered and presumptuous. However, what was really remarkable was, that many of these men immediately stopped when the women told them they were not interested. The import was, that in this modern feminist doctrine, if a man asks a woman for sex, he automatically becomes a pervert, even if he desists as soon as the woman tells him she’s not interested.

Even more interesting was women bringing up old relationships with men, where the sexual relationship had been consensual, and subsequently the relationships had deteriorated – human relationships, like human bodies, having the tendency to decay in their health as time progresses. These relationships were now presented as sexual harrassment because of the obvious fact that consensual sex has a tendency to go back into the past and convert itself into sexual harrassment. This is complicated feminist science that ordinary mortals, even of the calibre of Einstein, cannot understand. In all these tales there was a presumption by the teller and the sympathetic listeners that the women’s versions be believed without any proof or room for circumspection – apparently, women ARE from Venus, and people from Venus are biologically incapable of lying or manipulating.

A host of other allegations too surfaced. A female comic demanded that she receive equal payment as her more talented and popular male colleague who was the face of the show they did together. Other women demanded that any man who dares to voice an opinion contrary to a woman’s opinion on any subject be branded a patriarchal sexual predator.
In the midst of all this madness, there were many women who were able to maintain their sanity, remain logical, and wished to hear the other side of the story as well before forming a decided opinion. On the other hand, there were a lot of men who used this opportunity to score points in the pointless battle that Twitter has now become. Many men tried to prove that they were more feminist than the feminist women by being even more illogical and hateful.

It’s obvious that there’s a systematic and deliberate attempt by a lot of women and men to take over the platform of Twitter by branding everyone who speaks against their opinions on any matter as misogynist, patriarchal, or even worse, a sexual predator. Most of these people are absolutely devoid of any talent or ability, and yet feel entitled to every privilege of success by playing the card of victimhood.

And remember, I’m only talking about social media here. I’m not talking about real life, where a lot of both urban and rural women are still suffering the yoke of misogyny and patriarchy and leading oppressed, exploited lives. I’m talking about mostly privileged women, who want to use the suffering of these other women to get privileges and control of social media platforms for themselves, without having the requisite talent to do so. These ladies have absolutely no interest in uplifting anyone or anything in society, except their own careers.

I’m really sick of this state of affairs, and I’m absolutely sure that all sensible men and women too are sick of it. Twitter is a wonderful platform to have fun, crack jokes, flirt, find love and to express one’s opinions freely on any subject that one cares for. And this beautiful platform has been converted by these feminists into a hateful tense place where normal people are afraid to say anything. I propose that we do something about it. I propose that we normal, sensible people get together and stop interacting with these feminists – men or women. Let us not give their outrages even a bit of recognition, either negative or positive. Let these feminists fester in their own cesspool of narrow-minded hatred. Let them live in their own dark universe of false victimhood and hatred for everything good, intelligent, cheeky or witty. Let the sensible people say that enough is enough – we don’t want any more hate and close-minded outrages on Twitter.
I for one am beginning the fightback by blocking every single feminist on Twitter. I suggest you do the same. Long live logic, sense, intelligence and wit.

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Posted in Satire

Darwin versus God

Evolution is like The Theory of Relativity – it explains everything. Ever since we began all those billions of years ago as miniscule pieces of DNA, the main foundation of our activities has been just one – the desire to exist. For that we have fought with the environment, with other animals, and most frequently and brutally, with other animals of our own species. And we continue to fight for everything – for better food, for better comforts, for more power over human and material resources, for better mates – even though our battles are now less physical and more subtle, being fought in glamorous boardrooms with yawn-inducing PowerPoint presentations or in ‘civilized’ debates in TV studios or Parliaments.

And yet, there have been people, both men and women, though few and far between, who have not succumbed to this most primitive instinct of survival of the fittest. Instead, their inner eyes have been fixed so firmly and rapturously on something called their passion which has made them oblivious and indifferent to the constant power struggle in life. Consider the cases of Emily Dickinson and Franz Kafka. They never earned anything from their writings, neither fame nor money, and died largely unknown. It could not have been the compulsion of an evolutionary power struggle that made them pour their souls into their works. Such dedication with no material rewards can only be the result of the inner eyes being so fixed on a pure passion that nothing else in the world seems worthwhile. And the mere theory of survival of the fittest would be hard put to explain this phenomenon without logical contortions of the Russian gymnast kind.

Life as we know it in our everyday struggles and pleasures is mostly dull, drab, dreary, petty, unedifying and uninspiring. We go through it because of our survival instinct that spirals through the very core of our being in the form of our DNA. And yet, in rare moments – in a snatched fragment of a song, in a poem that like the sudden springing of a trapdoor plunges you into the hidden depths of life you never suspected, in a sky of an unusual blue, in the green spring leaves ruffled by a caressing breeze, in the melting eyes of your lover – you experience a sudden clarity of vision, a sudden experience of possibilities beyond the ordinary humdrum worldly existence. That vision of the something beyond the confines of the cage of desires welded together by the logic of self-interest opens up an entire new sky which is something more beautiful, vast, eternal than our own petty existence. Something that is beyond victory and defeat. And that timeless, eternal, yet ever-fresh and ever-invigorating, thing or phenomenon – that is God. A God whose essence can never be captured by the mind-numbing rituals of religion or by mechanical methods to find Him through meditation or austerities. That God can only be found when the inner eyes are focused on finding the highest good in our human interactions, in our passions. That love for the good and creative, that feeling and striving for the better nature of humankind – that is the only way to find God.

Tagged with: , ,
Posted in Philosophy

Darwin versus God

Evolution is like The Theory of Relativity – it explains everything. Ever since we began all those billions of years ago as miniscule pieces of DNA, the main foundation of our activities has been just one – the desire to exist. For that we have fought with the environment, with other animals, and most frequently and brutally, with other animals of our own species. And we continue to fight for everything – for better food, for better comforts, for more power over human and material resources, for better mates – even though our battles are now less physical and more subtle, being fought in glamorous boardrooms with yawn-inducing PowerPoint presentations or in ‘civilized’ debates in TV studios or Parliaments.

And yet, there have been people, both men and women, though few and far between, who have not succumbed to this most primitive instinct of survival of the fittest. Instead, their inner eyes have been fixed so firmly and rapturously on something called their passion which has made them oblivious and indifferent to the constant power struggle in life. Consider the cases of Emily Dickinson and Franz Kafka. They never earned anything from their writings, neither fame nor money, and died largely unknown. It could not have been the compulsion of an evolutionary power struggle that made them pour their souls into their works. Such dedication with no material rewards can only be the result of the inner eyes being so fixed on a pure passion that nothing else in the world seems worthwhile. And the mere theory of survival of the fittest would be hard put to explain this phenomenon without logical contortions of the Russian gymnast kind.

Life as we know it in our everyday struggles and pleasures is mostly dull, drab, dreary, petty, unedifying and uninspiring. We go through it because of our survival instinct that spirals through the very core of our being in the form of our DNA. And yet, in rare moments – in a snatched fragment of a song, in a poem that like the sudden springing of a trapdoor plunges you into the hidden depths of life you never suspected, in a sky of an unusual blue, in the green spring leaves ruffled by a caressing breeze, in the melting eyes of your lover – you experience a sudden clarity of vision, a sudden experience of possibilities beyond the ordinary humdrum worldly existence. That vision of the something beyond the confines of the cage of desires welded together by the logic of self-interest opens up an entire new sky which is something more beautiful, vast, eternal than our own petty existence. Something that is beyond victory and defeat. And that timeless, eternal, yet ever-fresh and ever-invigorating, thing or phenomenon – that is God. A God whose essence can never be captured by the mind-numbing rituals of religion or by mechanical methods to find Him through meditation or austerities. That God can only be found when the inner eyes are focused on finding the highest good in our human interactions, in our passions. That love for the good and creative, that feeling and striving for the better nature of humankind – that is the only way to find God.

Tagged with: , ,
Posted in Philosophy

Paradise Lost (by Satan)

I lay on the field, burning,
My skin with your thunderbolts,
My heart with your contempt,
My mind with impotent anger:
That you threw me so easily,
Like a hand brushing dust
That dared to smudge the shirt’s front,
While all the passion of my righteous hurt,
Dissolved into rivers of futile craven tears;
For what son could ever prevail
Against the almighty father,
Who fashioned him with his own hands,
In his own rigid design?
And was the pride you chastised me for
Any whit of the immense ocean of need in you
That needs constant praises of your mightiness,
Your immense goodness in creating us,
To be mere vessels of your predestined plan?

Ha! Hypocrite that you are!
The mightiest in my universe
Yet in most need of the reassurance,
Of cringing, blind, meek praise?

But no matter if you deny me your heaven!
My own hell shall I make,
Twisted, dark, barren but for thorns of immense pain,
Burning with anger, populated with shrieks
Of defiance against your smug self-righteousness
Sanctioned by your companion angels;
And every living moment I shall strive
To thwart your carefully laid destiny,
For me and for your pathetic little Universe
(Not vast enough to assimilate your pride);
You made me the brightest star in your sky,
And I’ll become the darkest smudge on your helm,
Taking pleasure in your eternal shame –
An ugly, twisted monster king of hell,
Than a decked-up, jewelled slave in your heaven.

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Posted in poem

Binodini’s Story

I saw your eyes,
Like still water,
Reflecting my pure soul.
But turmoil of hurt and anger
Drove me mad,
And I was drawn like a fly
Trapped in the sticky web
Of my own cunning spider mind.
I trapped him, but lost you,
And though I tried later
To create the past,
And though you stretched out your hand,
I saw your eyes,
Like still water,
Reflecting my sullied soul.
And I could not, would not
Sully you with it.

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Posted in poem

Dear Doctor, Stop Crying

I think we doctors are crying too much these days. A few points I’d like to point out (excuse the pun).

1) Nobody put a gun to our heads to force us to become doctors. It was entirely our choice, and if it was our parents’ choice, it was our choice to succumb to our parents’ choice

2) Yes, we have to study a lot. But who are we kidding? A long college life means a long time to have fun

3) Yes, our profession is being unfairly targeted these days. But most of it is our own doing by gleefully encouraging corrupt practices by pharma companies and diagnostic labs. And shall I remind you that the abysmal sex ratio has been brought about by the unbridled greed of a lot of our own colleagues?

4) Yes, there’s a lot of deplorable violence against doctors these days. But a lot of that can be prevented if we show solidarity amongst ourselves and force the government to take action. But we’re too busy in our practice and in fighting among each other. Government doctors hate private doctors for earning more money.

5) True, we’re often insulted by illiterate politicians and functionally illiterate bureaucrats. They can easily insult us because we go crawling to them when we need some favour, to cancel our transfer orders or just to avoid offending them. Dear docs, if you keep degrading yourself, why shouldn’t they?

6) Besides, most of us earn a lot of money, which is enough to live a comfortable luxurious life.

7) Finally, if our profession was really that bad, why do we continue to let our children enter it, even pay huge fees in private medical colleges to ensure they do exactly the same thankless job that we do? Are we our childrens’ enemies?

The fact is, that like all other people, we do our jobs to earn money for our needs and luxuries. Some do the job well and some do the job not so well, and some do a very corrupt job. We’re no different from any other profession.

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Posted in Uncategorized

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