It started with the idea of imagining and spewing out seven best pieces that i could write without any constraints of time. With the last piece in, i see that it has taken me more than 2 years to complete 7 pieces of obscurity. Though i wasn’t proud of the first one, but it promised a direction i could take. Perhaps the lack of something always hindered the writing. While thoughts festered, writer’s inertia always crept in. But more than that, i feel that i didn’t allow myself the freedom to write : thoughts were not registered or even ignored for later. I could give a legitimate excuse that there was no drive, particularly in case of from hell that has taken indefinitely long, but i know for better that it is all a state of mind and i brought myself to it. Sometimes, knowledge can be very tough to ignore..sometimes i forget the syntax and semantics too. Sometimes i forget..and se7en was an attempt forced against these things..
“They are everywhere i go. They are always in my head. They feel like a burden i can never rid myself of.
They are the we of me...”
And this is the last in the line of randomness. the conclusion.
I request you to hit play and start reading only once the music loads and you hear the first word.
thirst, something well known to him as a combination of syllables, manifests the same level of flatness in speaking as in emotion. thirst, a 6 letter word, has symmetry of balance – neither too long to express nor too short. his thirst lacked the symmetry, balance and emotion. With a bottle of water in hand, he saw the sun setting across the room with walls of air and ceiling of sky in a moment of reserve just before plunging into the anti-infinity of the moment. It was to be conclusive in the line of pending judgments before the sun set or maybe he was too melodramatic more out of personal coaching than the demands of the situation. he was on the edge of things literally and metaphorically both. at a distance not far, in his line of sight, he saw an emotional stockpile of waves changing rapidly into benign monstrous beings, crashing against each other in a race of a pointless drama of events. he gulped down sips of water from the bottle trying to keep them to a minimal in following the rule he had picked from the gym of not consuming excessive amounts of water before engaging into heavy workout which in his terms was the displacement of body from the original position at a particular speed like a freight train spiralled out of control in an endless direction. What was the purpose of all this? – a question he thought could be answered today. he sat on the parapet of the roof with his legs hanging on the either side.
The day had been the usual – ordinary and boring – in his words – calm and composed; and even the thought of being the last living day did not rescue him from the cocoon of safety. There was a theory that went around that in one’s moment of death or near death experiences, one’s concentration levels were the highest; and in one’s moments of madness, all was priceless. He had also read that in moments nearing one’s death, one's life flashed in front of one's eyes; and this theory was something he didn’t hold high in his regard as it seemed more a result of tutoring than actuality. nevertheless, both theories were going to nullified today even if he weren't alive to publish a paper on it. the more he thought about these things, the more interesting it became, but it also made him feel whether he would soon get bored and decide not to jump. from where he sat, safe or limitless was more a matter of twitch than anything.
he sat on the parapet swinging his legs like a pendulum wondering.. the thirst lingered.. he sipped a little more. he imagined in his head the jump of a cat and then the flight of a flying lizard. he hoped for the latter. hope was a four lettered word he had often watched burn.
no he wasn't that old, no he wasn't that young, but in his short span he had learnt that everything that killed him, made him feel alive. of course he wasn't insane. if he ever sat for a psychometric analysis, he would enjoy screwing around with the test more than actually outwitting it. he just wanted to soar, glide and do everything that made him feel alive. and he had done everything in his will to be anti-stagnant, anti-establishment, anti-authority, anti-anti..anti-you.. an anarchist at the heart, he loved chaos, but realised that if it carried on for a while, it became a routine. he was anti-routine. the more he became absorbed in his thoughts, the more thirsty he felt. Thoughts started racing through his head instantly as a natural reaction followed by an almost self-tutored regulation of the flow. for a few moments, he stopped controlling the direction of flow. He stood up and inched closer to the edge of the parapet. Somewhere between the known and the pretended unknown, lay his state of mind. a jump cleaved his existence from the living to the ever after.
he closed his eyes in a feeling of liberation. he had read that love and happiness could exist in moments of fear. he stretched his arms out, tilted his neck back a little and let his thoughts flow..
what was that thirst?
felt it burn.
arms raised in a 'V'
his thoughts stopped. his lips curved into a grin. His eyes were moist. he wanted to hold onto that thought before it passed.
it was madness..
As he watched the sun fuck the ocean..
(and this is where you close your eyes, sink in your seat and enjoy the music)
human kind can not gain anything without first giving something in return. in order to obtain, something of equal value must be lost. that is alchemy's first law of equivalent exchange.