The Prayer of an Angry Common Man

“Beware the fury of a patient man.”

John Dryden

Oh God, kindly hear me out.

Listen to me patiently, for I have no one else to talk to.
I do not want an answer for my prayer; all I need is someone to listen to me- to make me feel good about having been able to give vent to all this anger that is building up inside me, like a volcano about to erupt.

Long are the days I spend in the oppressing heat of the sun, paving roads, while people in AC cars stare at me through the glass windows, amused by the movements of my starved body muscles, the heaving of my miserable lungs which have been consumed by the thick tar smokes.

I am angry, God. I am angry that I work my heart out and when the roads are paved to perfection, my name does not even finds a mention; the credit of my labor goes to the politician. I am angry that I have to work so hard for others to enjoy their pretty lives, and that I do not get credit for my labor.

The temple’s pujari, mosque’s imam, and the church’s abbot; all tell me that Thee treat everyone similar, that everyone is equal to Thee, and that all men are Thy beloved children. Then why is it that I toil out here, struggling hard to feed my ailing mother, while that woman in the glassed vehicle feeds street dogs with the burger her kid wouldn’t eat?

I hear that my Government spends millions of rupees for the security of me and my family. And yet, when the terrorists chose to attack the nation, it was I who lost my family to his gunfire at Mumbai Sivaji Terminus. It was I who lost the laughter of my innocent kids.

I am angry, oh Almighty.

I am angry that the person responsible for the death of my family has not been punished still. I am angry that my government spends crores of rupees for the protection of the terrorist, build tunnels for his security, while my mother suffers for the want of medicines.

They tell me that I should be a proud Indian, for we have sent a mission to the moon. I do not feel proud, my Lord. All I feel is this anger that is welling up inside me, consuming me, at the thought that the millions spent in finding traces of water in the moon could have brought water to the dried up fields of my village. I am angry that they find pride in India’s unsuccessful lunar mission while my brethren lose lives for want of basic medical facilities.

I can’t feel proud, my Lord.

I can’t feel proud as long as my hungry brethren drink water from the roadside pipes to fill their stomachs; while the surplus food grains that my government claims to have lay rotting in warehouses.
I can’t feel proud of India’s growth as a ‘World Power’ as long as the majority of my brethren, in the slums and the roadside pavements, are unsure of their daily survival while men clad in suiting make merry at the stock exchanges.

Can I ask Thee something, oh Omniscient?
Why this inequality? Why this indifference to my plight?

I have been poor since generations before, and I will remain poor generations after.

You’ll find me in the slums, in coal mines, in quarries and crumbling fields.
You’ll find me working my heart out, doing things as I have been told to.
You’ll find my children, undernourished, running around bare-chested, with no hopes of education or a bright future.
You’ll find me weeping silently, unable to contain the sorrow within.
You look at me for a moment, turn your head away, and forget my tears in a flash. You forget my existence, for it concerns you not. It concerns you not whether I laugh or I cry, whether I starve or I die. It concerns you not whether my kids go to school or become another me.

I am angry, Oh God.

I am angry at You, I am angry at my Government; I am angry at the whole world.

**** **** **** ****

CULPABLE SILENCE

Every time a strike is carried out by the Islamic terrorists, I find myself being haunted by the now- familiar feelings of guilt, anger and frustration. I find myself wishing that I were invisible, that I didn't have to face my friends and classmates. Time and again, I hold myself responsible for the atrocities inflicted by these criminals and brainwashed scapegoats in the name of the religion I belong to. Once, I even dared to voice my fears to a close friend of mine who was quick to brush aside these thoughts as unnecessary and wrong. "You are a good person, so are majority of the people who belong to your community. This majority is in no way responsible for the actions of a perverted few", she said.

In spite of her assurances, the question kept popping up in my mind: am I not responsible, though not directly, for the actions of these terrorists? And the answer was always the same, even though I dared not to speak it out in public: I am responsible for their actions, so is every person who claims to be a follower of Islam; for it is the silence of people like me which gives them the courage to keep doing these terrible things.

My friend, in her empathy for me, might have overlooked a few facts, but the truth is that the so called 'moderate' majority among Muslims is also a silent majority and their silence has often been interpreted as the silence of approval, both by the terrorists and the world. Their silence has, in fact, thus become culpable silence.

Except for the occasional 'condemnation' and 'fatwa' against terrorism, the Muslim society has done pretty much nothing to tell the world that they do not support this fanatic minority among them. The implications of this silence are manifold: not only have Muslims lost the trust of their brethrens of other religious faiths, but also have they become targets of sustained suspicion and false accusations. Today, having a Muslim name could seal off your chances to own an apartment in certain neighborhoods, you are looked upon with suspicion if you sport a beard, and many people tend to keep a distance from you once they come to know that you are a Muslim. One of my friends was frank enough to let me know of his parents' displeasure on him being friends with a Muslim, another told me- though embarrassed- that her father wouldn't ever lend his apartment to Muslim families.

And, Muslims have no one to blame but themselves. For, it is their own silence which breeds this distrust.

Why are the Muslims silent?

Why are the Muslims silent at a time when they ought to be shouting at the top of their voices to the world of their innocence? Why does the Muslim community isolate itself from the rest of the world?

The answer to these questions lies in the inherent nature of the Islam. Islam as a religion had to survive extremely hostile conditions during its earlier periods of existence. As such, its followers were taught to look at the world outside with suspicion; they were cautioned of the fact that there were many enemies who wished to delete Islam from the face of earth. These teachings were so very ingrained into the religion that they have been carried forward into even the 21^st century by its followers.

As a result, even the modern Muslim is taught by the clergy to believe that the world is full of enemies of Islam who would wipe it off from earth if they were not to defend it. Unfortunately, the situations in Palestine, Iraq, Afghanistan and the West's notorious 'Islam phobia' all feed to this fire. The disastrous result has been that Muslims have become more of an introvert group, unwilling to let others into their circles or enter into others'. Sadly, Muslims have failed to realize the fact that what was true for the religion in the 7^th century need not be true in the 21^st century.

What needs to be done?

What needs to be done immediately by Muslims is to distance themselves completely from the activities of the terrorists. They need to literally shout to the world that nothing- NOTHING- can ever justify the actions of these criminals. Not even the pathetic condition of Muslims in Palestine, Iraq, Afghanistan and elsewhere in the world should be cited as a justification. Further, Muslims need to come out of their cocoons of distrust and start interacting positively with the society they live in.

The time has come for the Muslims world over and especially in India to take a long hard look at themselves and sort out a few things. If they don't, the situation will soon get out of hand. The world is becoming more and more impatient about the way Muslims carry themselves about, and there will soon come a day the majority of non Muslims would start holding the entire community responsible for the actions of a few.

It is foolish to expect the Islamic clergy to stand up and make a change in the current scenario. The Islamic society in India is in dire need of a dynamic leadership with a balanced view of the world, a leadership which would be proactive in its actions; a leadership which could lead the community during this time of darkness out into the sunshine.

Such a leadership can be provided only by the educated Muslims who have so far been unwittingly silent. They need to start talking for themselves soon enough, lest it will be too late. Only a spirited fight back with a sound plan of action can bring back peace to Islam and the world.

Saarang Story No.1 : The Battlefield, Warriors, and the (missing) Weapon

The excitement was contagious. Even as we stuffed our clothes into the backpacks, we could feel our hearts beat faster in anticipation of all the goodies that lay awaiting us at the battlefield of Saarang’09 (Note that I use BOLD letters here; it is because I had some of the BEST days of my life at this FANTASTIC arena.).

Thanks to the f***ing senselessness of the aged clan leader of ours (HOD) who wouldn’t grant us permission to wage our wars at Chennai, the army- which had previously consisted of ten ruthless warriors from the Royal Mech clan of the CET tribe- was seriously depleted due to the abrupt withdrawal of five of our mighty warriors. The rest of us, however, were not ready to give up so easily and were prepared to even sacrifice our lives for the noble cause that we strongly believed in. Our mission: to have as much fun as a mortal man could in a span of 7 days, meet up with as many chicks as possible, and bring back home some precious trophies of happy memories and novel experiences.

While warrior Raman had his weapon (an HMT textbook that he wished to discuss with his equally enthusiastic friends at IITM!!) ready for his personal battle; rest of us were still in search of ours: thanks to Sanky’s last minute cancellation of plans to accompany us, we were left without a camera to get the pictures of all the beautiful damsels we hoped to find in our personal battlefield at Saarang. Our despair turned into astonishment and then anger even as we made calls after calls to get hold of our precious weapon. Mysteriously, all the cameras we knew were either terminally ill or busy fighting other battles, and we were left with no option but fight unarmed and be satisfied with our ‘photographic’ memories which had almost always deserted us during exams without fail so far.

Here’s the prologue in a nutshell:

Battle field: Saarang’09 held on the campus grounds of IITM. Competition events were strictly out of bounds, though: none of the warriors were expected to indulge in any of the ‘foolish’ battles being fought at the competition venues since they were ‘much below’ the standards the warriors had set for themselves. Their only objective would be to go in search of, and wage battles with, the innumerable good looking females who gathered for Saarang.

Warriors: Five mighty Royal Mechs of CET who were assigned the following duties as per their areas of specializations:
1. Ziyad M M: Stealthy, silent and highly skilled at psychology and reading of female minds, this warrior was assigned the duty of spotting, analyzing, and reporting possible subjects of interest.
Code name: Silent Watcher.
2. Richard Babu: Shameless and a man with high end connections at Saarang, Richard was our natural choice for the most important post of the weapon wielder.
Code name: Weapon Wielder
3. Anthony Job Kannampally: The brother of Ninoy Job Kannampally, (the Finance Co-coordinator of our battlefield!), Anthony was our backup ticket out of tight situations.
Code name: Ass Saver.
4. Ramachandran A: Though this warrior was supposed to stay away from the group most of the time due to other preoccupations, he was expected to be the biggest source of entertainment for the group.
Code name: The Joker.
5. The Pilgrim: This particular warrior was entrusted with the duty of warning the weapon wielder of possible attacks by hostile elements. Also keep record of the events of the battle.
Code name: Archives Master.

Weapon: A camera, which still eluded the mighty warriors.

**** **** ****

TO BE CONTINUED

2008: year of the rotten rat

In dedication to
the innocents who lost their lives at the hands of the f***ing terrorists who took us by surprise at Mumbai;
the hundreds of innocent children who lost their beautiful little lives at the hands of the Israeli BASTARDS.
May the peace which eluded you in life be with you in death at least.

"Oh Men of free spirits, where the HECK is your Goddamn God?"

**** **** ****

DISCLAIMER
Be warned that most of what is being said here are just exaggerated versions of what might actually have happened. No complaints, grievance or threats by anyone will be entertained. Any such comments will IMMEDIATELY be removed from the blog. In short: I do not give a damn about what anyone thinks, and be advised that you are entering at your own peril onto a minefield! In case you are foolish enough to be offended by the crap I type up, better buzz off before its too late to turn back!

**** **** ****

Synopsis

The Chinese claim that 2008 was the "Year of the rat". It was indeed the year of the rotten rat for the pilgrim as well; his year began with:

1. a Goddamn university exam staring down his 'handsome' face,
2. him getting dumped rather unceremoniously by a rather good looking female,
3. him getting caught at home for bunking his exams, and
4. him behaving as if he were out of his bloody mind;

and it ended with:

1. another Goddamn university exam kicking his butt,
2. him- after passing through the four stages of Denial ("This can't be happening, not to me!"), anger ("NO! NO! How can this happen?!"), Bargaining ("I'll do anything, can't you stretch it out? A few more years."), and Depression ("I'm so sad, why bother with anything?")- reaching the fifth and final stage of Acceptance ("I can't fight it, I may as well learn from it.") about getting dumped,
3. him convincing his folks that they can trust him (with a host of lies, I must add!), and
   
4. him trying to behave as if he was in perfect harmony with everything around him (what a fake!)

**** **** ****

The 'love' story that never was

I'll make it short and quick, here's the final piece of conversation between the pilgrim and his crush(?!).
pilgrim (after sending his ego on a tour to the outer space) : Did you ever have any feelings for me?
girl (very pleasantly, as if she was at her own marriage ceremony, laughing) : I'm sorry, no. It was just that I thought I was in love with you, but I wasn't actually in love with you.
pilgrim (to himself, inside his head) : Lord save the poor soul whom she would "actually" fall in love with, some day!

tailpiece: In case you failed to notice, some of the words have been stressed using italics and bold fonts. Try reading and comprehending the exact meaning of what I'm trying to say here! Btw, how does one realize whether he is in 'actual' love or not?! :)

**** **** ****

Examination woes

There once used to be a time when the pilgrim would turn stone- stiff even at the utterance of the word 'exams'. The good news is that he has grown over that, thanks to the Goddamn engineering course which practically drills him with exams: on an average, he was supposed (specially note the word 'supposed' in italics!) to face 18 University Question Papers (most of which he 'successfully' dodged!), 24 Series Question Papers (most of which managed to hit him by his nuts!), and an innumerable Supplementary and Improvement Question Papers. And to top it all, there were 'Surprise Tutorials' conducted by certain semi- retarded teachers who did not give a damn about what their students have to go through.

tailpiece: Now for the bad news: he has become addicted to exams, and is reported to have been seen at all kind of exams: from KG to the Civil Services. It has also been reported that government offices have installed a 'pilgrim- tracking- and- eliminating' device at all their sites of exams!

**** **** ****

The 'internal' bleeding

Right from his first year at college, the pilgrim has had a way with attendance and internals: one under in S1S2 (while all others were singing hymns of praise about their 'kind' teachers who had awarded them with so much internal marks!), which later on improved to a mighty 6 unders in S3 (out of a mere 8 papers!), then went on to 7 out of 8 in S4(with a RECORD- BREAKING 7 marks for HM labs!) and finally dipped slightly to 3 out 8 in S5(with 70 % internal marks!). And the crazy truth is that the last 3 internals all were scored in the 'year of the rotten rat'!

tailpiece: The pilgrim is desperately in search for a cure for his internal bleeding. For the first and last time, advices are welcome. But DO NOT overdo!

**** **** ****

TO BE CONCLUDED IN THE NEXT POST

the rescuer

THE SEA,

dark in blue,

rushed at me, eager

to gobble me up

take me to depths,

and,

lull me to eternal sleep

THE SEA BRIDGE,

brown in rust,

kept distant

unwilling,

to reclaim a lost sheep

SHE,

my  friend,

stood stunned

upon the distant bridge,

not knowing what to do

I

lay here,

dancing and tossing,

in these beautiful blue waters-

peaceful,

serene,

awaiting my Rescuer

I wished,

and wished again, that

He came quick

without keeping me wait

For,

waiting meant agony,

and suspense

which

I could bear no more of

THE SKY,

bright and blue,

with white cotton clouds,

smiled upon me-

half in love

and

half in mock

SEA GULLS,

black in white,

flew past

in straight simple lines

BUT I NEVER SAW

But I never saw.

for

I was busy,

awaiting my rescuer

Hopeful

that He came quick

to claim this lost sheep

Water,

salt and sour,

filled

       my mouth

       my nose

       my lungs

       my mind

       and

       my soul

and still I lay awaiting

my compassionate Rescuer

I KNEW

He would come

for,

my friend knew not how to swim

But Death,

My Rescuer,

kept me waiting

waiting

and waiting

until the final embrace, which

broke loose

      my chains,

      my locks,

      my pains

      and

Rescued me

from this hopelessly

hopeless sea

called

Life…

the eternal sands

at dawn,

when the tide was low,

I went 

to the ancient beaches

and,

scribbled upon the eternal sands,

lines and symbols;

pouring into them

  the love of my heart

  the hopes of my life

and

  the pains of my soul.

i left,

believing

that what I had

scribbled upon the eternal

sands of the ancient beaches

would remain forever,

for,

the sands themselves

were eternal.

i went out into the world-

for the whole day

I wandered around,

hoping to find 

  the song of my life

  the cure for my pains

  the answer to my loneliness

but

I found none 

of what I searched for:

all I found were people-

men and women-

searching for what they wanted,

never bothering to look around,

hurrying off to grab

their share of gifts from life.

I walked,

alone,

along the crowded streets

among the poor

and the priviledged

Still I found none

of what I wanted.

Tired and unhappy,

I returned

to the ancient shores-

sad that I had found

none of what I looked for.

At twilight,

when the tide was high,

I returned to the ancient shores

to find, nothing

but my ignorance etched upon them.

I searched for my scribblings

which were not there-

the tide had erased them.

  the love of my heart

  the hopes of my life

  the pains of my soul-

were all gone

I realized;

What I had believed to be eternal

were not eternal

but 

momentary...

of love once lost...

Love is a strange phenomenon. It caresses you with one hand and at the same time slaps you hard on face with the other. I've had my share of experiences- bitter and sweet- with love. I have been madly in love with more than one girl, and have enjoyed the pleasure and pain love brings.
The other day, even as I was browsing through my computer, I came across some stuff I had scribbled a year ago, when I lost someone I loved. Even now, a year later, reading this brings a sting in my heart and a melancholic smile on my face...

love: the pleasure and pain within

What is love, but the pleasure
in knowing that she cries for you?
What is love, but the pain
in knowing that she survives without you?

moist eyes, for a lifetime

Walking away, she gifted me with moist eyes; which followed her to the horizon in the foolish faith that there would be a turning back, a final glance.
No such offerings came forth, no consolations. Disappearing beyond the horizon with the evening sun, she left me alone in my sorrows.
Memories stabbed, hurting me over and over again. Standing still in the darkness, I savored the pain which was tearing across me, with clenched fists and rigid jaws. No tears rolled down my cheeks, there weren’t any left in me...
The breeze cooled my moist eyes, but not my moist heart. Rain came down upon me, violent and vicious, but no change did it bring. Drenched to the bones, I wished myself dead.
I have not enjoyed the peace and pleasure of love, yet I bear its pain and grief. I do not complain, for I have no voice.
I survive, with moist eyes for a lifetime...

**** **** ****

the birth and death of an atheist

prologue

Even as the dark night sky welled up with pregnant monsoon clouds waiting impatiently to shed theirs tears upon us, we- me and my friend- raced at breakneck speed along the beautiful Changanacherry- Alappuzha road in a to- be- futile attempt to outrun the impending shower. The road, which tore through the heart of Kuttanadu, stretched before us in all its majestic beauty, flanged by lush green paddy fields and brilliant blue backwaters on either sides. On any other day, I would have lost myself in this natural beauty; today I barely noticed them.

For, I was deeply involved in what my friend- a veteran atheist- was telling me. All of a sudden, he had found a willing listener in me, and I was drinking in every word of his sermon with a kind of reverence. There he was, piling proof upon proof to destroy everything I'd believed in until that moment, tearing to shreds the existence of my beloved Lord, and yet, I listened to him with a respect for his ideas that had so far eluded me. Everything he said made sense, each of his arguments dealt a vicious blow upon the institution of religion. Even though marked by crude jokes and outbursts of pure unadulterated abuse, what the drunk guy said seemed to make perfect sense. Soon enough, I too caught the drift, and joined him in his billingsgate of all religious institutions.

Thus rode the couple of boys- one a seasoned atheist and the other, his newly found disciple, the pilgrim- singing abusive songs against the church and making crude jokes about mosques and temples...

****
the birth

After riding in silence for about 15 whole minutes, I was glad when my friend began to enquire about my life. But that relief was short lived- he began talking about religions. I couldn't believe my bad luck: stuck on a lonely road with this crazy friend of mine, who suddenly starts talking about religion!! Of all the things happening on earth, WHY did he have to settle upon RELIGION?! Politics I could handle with some effort, Movies I wouldn't have minded, Cricket (Hmmm...) I would have survived, but religion...?

It was very well known that my friend was a pukka atheist who took pleasure in ridiculing all kinds of belief systems and their followers. But I'd never had a taste of his sermons, I never gave him a chance. But now there was no way out, I was trapped. I decided that the best strategy would be to just listen to him, without contradicting anything he said. I made a silent prayer to Lord Almighty to help me survive this one...

Now, to cut short a long story, he somehow succeeded in capturing my attention and began telling me why I should stop believing in God, disregard all religious faiths, and work towards the establishment of an atheist society which would be the only only feasible solution to all the crises that humanity now faces.

"Just imagine, if we had a religion less society, you wouldn't have got rejected or dumped by all those pretty girls from other religions!!", he took a dig at me.

Now, I must admit that even though the guy was jabbing his finger at my numerous failed 'relationships' (as always, I claim innocence in all those wonderful breakups. It was always THEIR mistake, not mine. I am too perfect to make any mistakes!! :)), this lit up a lightning inside me: "How wonderful would THAT be?", I began to wonder,"All those beautiful damsels of Christian, Hindu and Muslim religions would be open for picking!!".

I couldn't resist my mind from wandering off to the wild world of imaginations where anything was possible. I found myself throned as the heartbeat of atheist young ladies and the much approved prospective son in law of atheist old dads. Of course, I was in a world where no man discriminated upon another in the name of religion, where no political party played communal politics, where everyone seemed equal. But those factors seemed trifle when compared to the wonderful opportunities such a world provided for my love life!

"How wonderful would that be?!" , I murmured.
I was brought back to the real world by my friend's rough voice which was droning on about how this world needs to embrace atheism, disregarding religions, all of which were based on superstitions, and were the reasons for all the troubles mankind ever faced. I felt a hatred for religious beliefs rise inside me: after all, these religions were the reasons why I was denied beautiful damsels, right!

The atheist in me was thus born...

****

the revenge

Soon enough, I joined him in singing obscene songs about unfortunate Christian Priests, and hurling insults upon insults on Muslim Imams and Hindu Gurus.

We were proud that we were performing our part in the promotion of atheism!

Darkness had set in and we were still riding without turning on the headlights. We saw a Mollakka riding a Luna at distance. It was pretty obvious that he was new at it and was very frightened about riding a bike. The Atheist disciple suddenly had a bulb flash inside his head- it was time to take revenge on these foolish preachers of religion! I whispered my idea into the willing ears of my new Guru who was all in agreement for the execution of my revenge plan. Shifting to lower gears, he silently slid behind the Mollakka and all of a sudden, revved the engine and switched on the headlights. The helpless old man was scared out of his wits and fell off from his bike. We both were so happy at the success of our revenge plan that we laughed our hearts out even as we we left the hapless Mollakka (who was, by the way, an efficient user of 'the other' language!) alone on the deserted road.

Revenge was thus taken upon the Muslim community for not letting its beautiful damsels love atheist guys...!

On we went and soon, my Guru was struck by this intense desire to smoke.
"All atheists can smoke and drink as much as they wish, there are no ridiculous laws against that", he explained to me happily. Unfortunately, he didn't have a cigarette lighter with him. Now, what use are cigarettes if there's no fire to light them? Cursing bad luck, we rode on. That was when a wonderful idea struck my Guru. He knew a small Christian Chapel on the way, "There are always lighted candles there", he remembered.

Even as we approached the chapel dedicated to some Christian Saint, I could make out a lone candle burning valiantly in the wind, refusing to die out. My atheist Guru marched on, lit his cigarette from the dancing flame, and calmly blew out the candle that was lighted in dedication to the Saint.

"There's no point in wasting a candle to satisfy some one's superstition", he explained with a grin, pocketing the candle. Even though taken aback, I couldn't help but admire his courage. In blowing out the candle, he was symbolically establishing the supremacy of atheism over superstitions of religions! I felt proud that I was an atheist, too.

Revenge was thus taken upon the Christian community for not letting its beautiful damsels love atheist guys...!

Smoking his cigarette as if he were Che, my Guru jumped on to his motorcycle and beckoned me to join him. We continued our journey...

****

the crisis

The bike was skidding like an ice skater, and my Guru yelled at me to jump from it. I could see blood spraying from my legs and his elbow. The bike had stopped its skid and now lay on top of me. Even as I passed out, I saw my Guru pick up his mobile phone...

The first thing I did on regaining consciousness at the hospital was to look under the blanket for my leg. I heaved a sigh of relief as I found it intact, though in plaster. My Guru was beside me, all smiles- apparently, he had escaped injuries.
"Your parents are on their way. Don't worry, there's nothing wrong. You'll be soon all right, your leg is not broken even. The plaster is just precautionary", he said happily.
I managed a smile. I couldn't feel my leg, it was numb.
"You will be discharged in a couple of days", he added.

****

the death

When he visited me at home, my Atheist Guru brought me a bagful of oranges.
"You are lucky that nothing much happened", he said,"I thought you would lose your legs!"
I felt blood boil inside me. I wanted to get up and thrash him blue and black. I had my university exams round the corner, and here I was bandaged and plastered up, feeling spasms of pain attack me every now and then; all because of this guy's rash driving!
I was about to give him a piece of my mind when he spoke in low voice:
"Did anyone tell you about your leg?"
"What about my leg?", I asked, a bit confused
"No one told you?"
"No."
"Hmmm...", he paused.
"What's wrong with my leg?", I asked, anxious and worried.
"No... There's nothing wrong with your leg, don't worry... I have to go now... Get well soon,OK.", he rose to leave.
I couldn't believe this was happening. The guy gave me enough reasons to doubt that something grave had happened to my precious leg, and he was leaving the discussion halfway. I couldn't let that happen. Getting hold of his hand, I refused to let go.
"Tell me what the matter is, I won't let go until then.", I asked in raised voice.
"Well", he sat down besides me,"It isn't a big deal... Its just that... How should I put it.. Hmmm...", he stammered.
"Spit it out, NOW", I almost shouted.
"Well, you have lost your left thumb."

I didn't know how to react to this piece of news.
"But...", I stammered, "I can feel pain radiating from it... I can still feel it inside the plaster...", I lost my voice.
"That is because, even after you lose a part of your body, you continue to feel its presence."

I fell back on to my bed, almost weeping...

****

For days that followed, I pestered my parents to divulge the truth about my thumb, I grew so irritant that people stopped visiting me, and I completely stopped believing in God- if God existed, he should not have let this happen to me. After all, the guy who insulted him the most (my Guru) didn't lose his thumb, right!

****

The day the plaster was being removed, I tried to appear calm and composed- I didn't want to lose my cool. I pretended happiness and everyone were happy to see me in such high spirits.
Even as the plaster was being removed, I took a peek at my leg and lo!

There lay my thumb, perfectly intact and alive!

I cannot describe the happiness I experienced at that moment. Letting out a yelp of joy, I thanked God Almighty!

****
epilogue: the Guru

I guess it is time I spoke a bit about my Atheist friend and ex- Guru (Yeah, I am not his disciple anymore. He is one of the most cunning and crooked guys I have ever come across)

Even the thought of this bastard brings up my blood pressure. The way he made a complete fool out of me proves how rotten he is. To imagine that he was toying with me all this time makes me feel sick.
"You have lost your thumb..."
How in the world could he say such a huge lie to me?
"Even when you lose a body part, you continue to feel its presence.."
Bastard!
He should have been laughing inside even as he fed me all those lies.
Oh! Those night of silent desperation and all those nightmares of being a thumb less person! Those repeated questions I'd asked my parents to tell me the truth about my thumb! How I grew angry with them for hiding the 'truth' that this liar had fed me!
I feel disgusted with myself that I fell prey to his 'practical joke'!
I feel disgusted that I trusted him!
I feel disgusted that I aspired to become an atheist!
No longer do I aspire for a religion less society. No longer do I dream about a world with beautiful atheist girls and their atheist fathers. No longer do I abuse religious figures or faiths of devotees. Above all, no longer do I seek revenge against various religious communities for not allowing its beautiful damsels to fall in love with atheists...!

Instead, I now hate all atheist, for I have been fooled by one among them. I hate them for not believing in God, for ridiculing the faith of others. I hate them for being lawless and for trying to destroy the faith of devotees...!

Thus died the new- born atheist in me...!
****
the end

the birth and death of an atheist: part one

prologue

Even as the dark night sky welled up with pregnant monsoon clouds waiting impatiently to shed theirs tears upon us, we- me and my friend- raced at breakneck speed along the beautiful Changanacherry- Alappuzha road in a to- be- futile attempt to outrun the impending shower. The road, which tore through the heart of Kuttanadu, stretched before us in all its majestic beauty, flanged by lush green paddy fields and brilliant blue backwaters on either sides. On any other day, I would have lost myself in this natural beauty; today I barely noticed them.

For, I was deeply involved in what my friend- a veteran atheist- was telling me. All of a sudden, he had found a willing listener in me, and I was drinking in every word of his sermon with a kind of reverence. There he was, piling proof upon proof to destroy everything I'd believed in until that moment, tearing to shreds the existence of my beloved Lord, and yet, I listened to him with a respect for his ideas that had so far eluded me. Everything he said made sense, each of his arguments dealt a vicious blow upon the institution of religion. Even though marked by crude jokes and outbursts of pure unadulterated abuse, what the drunk guy said seemed to make perfect sense. Soon enough, I too caught the drift, and joined him in his billingsgate of all religious institutions.

Thus rode the couple of boys- one a seasoned atheist and the other, his newly found disciple, the pilgrim- singing abusive songs against the church and making crude jokes about mosques and temples...

****
to be continued in the next post...

the week that was, with pilgrim

The past one week was filled with so many dramatic events that the pilgrim just couldn't resist the temptation of giving his take on those events. (I'm just exaggerating here, the past one week was pretty ordinary, except for a few events. But then, people don't like to hear ordinary things, do they?) Here's a sneak peak of the week that was, with the pilgrim!
Hm mm... Where should I begin?
Now, what was the one eventful drama that unfolded in the idiot box (Television) which held the viewers so captivated that they forgot even to pee? What was the single event that occurred in our little 'God's Own Country' (which, I'm sure, He'll pretty soon disown) that entertained us so much that people actually switched channels so as to catch the News, rather than the usual cry babe serials?

the 'spiritual' circus!
The bonfires are ready, sniffer dogs are barking away madly, the knives have been sharpened. The Witch hunt begins...
Only, this time around, it isn't actually a 'witch' hunt. In Kerala, the hunt is on for the 'Mystic God-men', whom people had revered until the recent past. But things changed overnight, when one of these 'reverend' sages was exposed by the unscrupulous media. (I call the media 'unscrupulous' for the manner in which they refused to take into account how their thoughtless actions would shatter the faiths of the thriving 'devotees' of these fake sages!)
Off fell the bloody imposter's mask, even as he frantically grabbed onto whatever flimsy lies he could come up with to save his skin. The foolish retard he was, he even claimed- with a bloody FAKE smile on his face- that he was being 'targeted' by people jealous of him. Even as evidence upon evidence was being dug up by smart journalists to prove that he was the same bastard wanted by the Interpol, the foolish son- of- a- 'saint' was seen appealing to his devotees on the idiot box to trust him. (I assume he wasn't smart enough to leave the scene and run for his life while he still could!) In the end, justice was done- at least partially- when the 'saint' was arrested and charged with criminal cases including rape. (Now, that is something which ought to complete the bastard's profile!)
Then came along the young and dashing and half cracked 'saint' who was clever enough to run into a police station with a loaded gun (which he had acquired illegally underhand) and threaten suicide. One cannot help but wonder how much brains this guy should be having; to do something SO STUPID! Less than a gram is my guess, and I think I'm being a bit too fair to him. The man who claimed to have had 'visions' about future (he claims to have predicted the tsunami!) didn't apparently see this coming for him!
Close in pursuit was the flop movie director- turned- 'saint', who had discovered long ago that 'spirituality' could bring him riches. One must give him credit, not just because he found out the weak spot of this unbelievably foolish and superstitious society (which, in my opinion, deserves to be looted by these thieves), but also for the fact that he smelled danger even as others of his kind were being rounded up, and tried to make a clean exit. But luckily, this guy was rounded up by his own 'devotees' and handed over to the police.
This was just the tip of the iceberg- apparently, Kerala is so filled with these 'mystic god men' that the media and the police are having the time of their lives; exposing and rounding up these perverts who feed on the pathetic belief systems that this degenerating society (regardless of religions) has imbibed into itself.
Even as you are reading this, people might be pouncing upon yet another 'saint'... Why not go take a look at the news?!

*tailpiece: heard that chrisitian 'brothers' and muslim 'mollakkas' have also been rounded up by police (Bravo, way to go!)... Now this is what one calls 'unity in diversity': Hindu for Musalman for Christian!

the Knight Riders who forgot how to ride!
The Father of Entertainment (Manoranjan Ka Baap!) seems to be holding on, defying the earlier sceptic observation of its critics that the show would become a drag once it lost its sheen of novelty. The event seems to be attracting as much attention- if not more- as it had, initially.
The only difference is, we don't get any more crazy fan screaming his head off for The Kolkatta Knight Riders!
Dubbed as the 'Test Team in Colour Kits', that the Bangalore Royal Challengers would be a failure was predicted even by cricketing toddlers, even before the tournament had kicked off. But with KKR and DC, things were different, before they actually took up their batting kits and helmets- they were supposed to be the strongest teams in competition. And look what happened!
Even with SRK jumping around like a wild chimpanzee without self restraint, the balding old man (Dada) and his company of 'villains' couldn't qualify into the semifinals. Even a reformed Dada (who was seen diving- would you believe it?- for the ball on the field) failed to unite the so called Knight Riders and inspire them to win.
Agarkar continued his legacy of giving away runs as though he scored them (I hope he doesn't make a comeback into the Indian Team!), Shoaib was seen trying desperately to perform well during (presumably) his final days of cricket, Gayle watched the whole scenario calmly from the side benches, Mc Cullum promised and perished, and Ponting complained without performing; even as Dada tried his hand at bowling and poor SRK tore up his hair in desperation! (Poor guy, should have lost millions he so painstakingly earned through mediocre acting and extraordinary politics!)
Barring some good performances in patches, the KKR had pretty ordinary outings. They suffered humiliating defeats from teams which seemed several times weaker on paper.
To top it off, the great SRK was warned not to enter the players area during matches. In extremely cinematic sequences which followed, SRK was heard declaring that 'no one could stop him from being with his players'. (That the very same SRK refused to show up at the team's outings once the team was pushed out of the semifinals is to be duly noted here. Instead, he sent them SMS with supporting messages! Clearly, SRK doesn't like to waste his time upon lost causes!)
Anyway, the hapless Kolkatta fans (the pilgrim included) have been at the receiving end of many a sharp joke, thanks to the Knight Riders who forgot how to ride. (or is it that they did not even know how to ride, in the first place?!)

*tailpiece: Vijay Malliya has increased the price of Kingfisher Beer from Rs.47 to 56, to negate his loss on Bangalore Royal Challengers. (Poor Us!). Guess what SRK is gonna do?!

aamir and his dog shahrukh @ aamir's blog!
This news reached me pretty late: that Aamir Khan owns a dog named Shahrukh. It was my furious cousin, who is such a HUGE fan of SRK that he still roots for KKR (unbelievable,huh?!), who told me about it. He told me, all puffed up, about Aamir's blog (http://www.aamirkhan.com/) in which he had posted something about Shahrukh (his dog) "licking (his) feet" and about him "feeding biscuits to Shahrukh (again,his dog)".Now, I am not sure of what shocked me more: the idea of Aamir sleeping with Shahrukh, or the fact that Aamir would be cleaning up Shahrukh's shit when he's home!

president bush and his 'bushy' economics
George. W. Bush has come up with an almost perfect theory to explain the phenomenal growth in global prices of food grains. According to this 15 watt Fraud, the prices of food grains are on a rise because the Indian middle class is eating more! Not because his bloody nation diverts food grains for the production of bio fuel, not because he ordered 5000 tonnes of wheat (which was produced in excess in USA) to be dumped in the Atlantic; but because Indians eat more nowadays! This smart ass needs to be nominated for The Nobel Price in Economics!

*tailpiece: bushy can also be nominated for The Nobel Prize for Peace as well!

the season of results
Ask kids what they hate the most about summer vacations, and you find them with a perfectly ready answer: RESULTS! More so for those awaiting public exam results: there is such frenzy associated with the results of 10th, 12th and Entrance, that kids are forced to believe that the very existence of the whole world depends on their results! Parents are seen feverishly praying to God and making promises, and kids live on the edge until the results are out.
Anyway, this time around, the Kerala Syllabus results were pretty cool: with pass percentage of a whopping 92%, it seemed as if all you needed to do was write your name on the answer paper! Then came the much awaited Entrance results, and yet another batch of students were sacrificed to either Medical or Engineering professions. (Don't we have ANY OTHER profession?!) Parent- children relationships soured, with many of the parents blaming their kids for not making it into the 'noble' medical profession, and children retaliating back. Many have headed off to coaching centres to seek admission to the 'repeater's batches', which are supposed to buy you a ticket into Medical Colleges!

*tailpiece: Having been prey to such a frenzy a couple of years ago which landed me in an Engineering College, I appeal to the kids and parents to look around for a profession which suits you, rather than running along the general flow.

the beginning

Even as I sit here staring idiotically onto my computer screen at around two in the morning, wondering what the first post in this precious blog of mine ought to be, a lightning bolt of an idea suddenly strikes me: why not explain to myself and others in my very own blog why I am doing this? (Yeah, don't be surprised, I have NO idea as of why I am doing this blog OR what I'm gonna do with it!)
And so here I am- trying to comfort myself that everything is going to work out fine and that my blog is going to be such a HUGE hit among my friends that they are gonna come get autographs from me- staying awake at such sleepy hours, to make the best out of the mess I've let myself into! ( Frankly, I can't make heads or tails of this damn sentence!! )

the 'pilgrim':
Well, I guess it would only be appropriate if I start with explaining why I have chosen the name 'Pilgrim' for myself. Now, an online dictionary (http://www.dictionary.com/) gives me the meaning of 'Pilgrim' as:
1.a person who journeys,esp. a long distance, to some sacred place as an act of religious devotion.

2.a traveler or wanderer, esp. in a foreign place.
3.an original settler in a region.
( Is it just me, or did you guys actually notice the contradictory 'meanings' given in 2 & 3?? )
As I am not the religious type who journeys long distances in an effort to proclaim one's devotion, I would like myself to be called a pilgrim in strict adherance to the second meaning. Yeah, I am a traveler who has wandered to strange places and have reached here: these turfs of 'blogs' are foreign to me.

why the 'pilgrimspeak'?:
To be frank, I have NO idea! Maybe it is one of those passing fancies that haunt you until you start chasing them. Maybe its all those stories and fun inside me, waiting to burst out onto the outer world, mingle with the humanity and die in the process. Maybe it is just the fun of revealing all that is within you to the outer world in a brave attempt to find someone who actually connects with your inner spiritual self. (So all women folk out there, if you are listening, here is your golden opportunity!)

about the pilgrimspeak:
One thing I can assure you is that there is not going to be anything in this blog that would make any sense to most of the ordinary people. For rest of the 'extraordinarily gifted' people who might find sense in what is being written in here, there is my nonstop chattering about anything and everything that comes to mind. And of course, there is going to be PLENTY of gossips- without names, but sufficient indications- in here!!! (primarily about happenings in our college- like, who has been spotted in the pancharakkadu with whom, who has dumped whom, who has been suspended from college for what... the stuff goes on...) In the process, if I hurt anyone, I seek forgiveness in advance (As if I care a damn!!).

***** ******

Having said that much, I may now enter the wonderful world of blogging!

Happy reading guys, have fun!!!

*PS: I plan to include a quote (food for thought!!) by the pilgrim and a joke (expect only 'chalis') by his friend "The lord of Wits" every week. Do give me your opinion about both!