My Email Id

To send any message to me, or for private comments, please use the mail id : sudipsam67@yahoo.co.in or Whatsapp me at 919477202742

The bloody diamond

The bloody diamond
This is life

Welcome to the imperfect world

Welcome to the super-real world where survival comes first, much before the high alter preachings of excellence (for others only). So if you are the one who does not have to survive, or does not care - you have a choice not to remain here.

For others, please have a seat and take cover - here anything can happen anytime and you may just become a faceless co-lateral damage. Everything here is related to life and death, pains and agonies, treacheries and conspiracies, cons and deceit, treason and betrayals, despair and darkness - we just do not live in any perfect world.

BUT that is why the blog is here at all - let there be light. It aspires to show the way, to train myself and my friends in the defense against the dark arts. It is also related to hope and courage, renunciation and redemption, indomitable will and lust for life - the immortal battle with the dark side. Red flag fluttering in the gentle wind, all hands on deck, war cries in the air, daggers drawn, no quarters given nor asked, no hostages taken - we must fight till the last man standing

Rest assured, you are in good hands. These hands, with all the talents or the lack of them, with all the liveliness and the inner brooding, with the over-sized ego and the extra-ordinary humility, with all the goodness and the devilish designs - have been war veterans - they have fought for decades in the battle of survival.

Happy surviving



Love in blood

Love in blood

The inescapable war within

It is the curse of the human that we are constantly at wars. War with the Government, society, family, spouse, children, Boss, peer, friends, neighbours. Some of these are overt, some crude, some plain enmity but some are subtle, some barely palpable, some low key and guerilla types, some are cold as razors, some are dry like the funeral pyres.

Most of these cannot be own with force or when you try for winning - sometimes you have to lose to win them. Some are more like trials than wars, they never show the faces, never let you see their pimples, just shadows, the kafkaesque faceless executioners take over.

For all these, we need inner strength, we need strategies. Sometimes the objective is survival, sometimes it's plain escape from the random blades, sometimes the heady delight of beheading the enemy. Sometimes it is sheer joy to be alive, sometimes happiness comes over from a walkover or just a walkaway, without even a careless looking back. Often it is a mixed feeling - the agony, the ecstasy, the brutal orgasm or a complete disenchanted detachment - a shelter in the NOW. They sometimes need courage, need cunning finesse, sometimes ruthless lack of values of a son-of-the-bitch, sometimes daring flamboyant recklessness, maybe even stoic nonchalance. But the best of the best generals in the wars of life, always win without unnecessary bloodshed or even none of it at all.

But the most painful and fearful of all these wars are the ones with oneself. It could be a conflict between mind and heart or even the soul that holds our values dear. And this is one war that always hurts, always wounds, always bleeds one dry, always keeps one awake through the fearful night with the shadows of the beautiful lacey curtains blowing in the gentle wind and making shadows of our most intimate fears within. It is like a nation under seize, and alas, there is no escape. When you will kill yourself softly, no survival strategy ever works.



Saturday, December 27, 2008

Boxer Day thought

No connection between the two, but the name Boxer’s day invariably remind me of Boxing which invariably leads to the down memory lane of two stories that haunt me all the time, in fact, on many a cold dark and despairing nights, I have thought of “The Mexican” and found a new meaning of life which gave me the fuel to fight for another day when everything seemed lost and the war was almost over. I remember the days when I also used to see the “ten thousand rifles” in the faces of the onlookers and the whole world and this hallucination kept me going, trying to take the tired exhausted bloody myself to the ring again, to survive another bout of ruthless beatings. Did I have the same aloof face with only “the eyes” that burned” ?

The other one was “The four beef steaks”, also by Jack London, in fact this story was the first that I knew of him, beautifully narrated by Mr. Deuri, our suave, neat and classy class-teacher in Standard 10. The darned good storyteller had mesmerized us with the story of the master. The story talks about a champion boxer on the verge of his last bout (and end of the career if he loses) and desperately looking to win the match that can earn him some money – he needs to feed his family. To win he needed the four beef steaks as he always did – but this time his sunny days are over and so nobody will even lend him any more money. He fought bravely but at the time of the knockout punch, he lost his force as he remembered he did not have the required steaks. He lost, broke down in a sob and then, after so many years, suddenly realized why the champion he snatched the crown from also broke down in the same way. This story does not inspire me as the other one, but serves an even more important purpose. It pins me firmly to the ground – makes me even more humble when, sometimes, I shine a lot and wear that maroon and gold cloak
Posted by at
Labels:

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)