The Cynic's Scythe

Status Quo

2007-11-27T04:58:00.002-05:00

So many mistakes, so little time left: Perhaps none at all. So much effort of such little consequence. Waking hours are spent in a restless tumble in the sheets. The time for sleep is a lethargic monotone of alcohol, cigarettes and denial. Mary Jane may have made things worse, but she could have numbed the pain of watching myself swirl down the drain of 20 years of accomplishment. Expectation, and the cowardice to challenge it are a pair of deadly bedfellows.

There are options. There are always options. But none that I would be proud to take. Not that the ones I have done have served me any better. I was not ready. I still am not. Give me back the last 5 years. But it is not yours to give, nor am I worthy of receiving it again.

Jack of all, master of none. Unharnessable potential. Ignorance, inertia, procrastination. Useless.

For you that made it, I smile. For you that didnt, I embrace. For you that arent quite sure, I wish you well. For you that is me, I wish you naught. You failed me, as I failed you.

What will save me? What will take me away? For now I have my alcohol, cigarettes and denial.

2007-11-01T02:14:00.000-05:00

Sexual Sprocket

2007-09-25T19:29:00.000-05:00

Let me open you up and slip inside.

Let me caress every curve, the soft bits...and the hard.
Let me turn you on; make you quiver.
Let me take you around the world overnight.
Sometimes slow and soft; sometimes hard and fast.
Until you're falling apart; then I'll take you home.
Let me put you under the sheets, let me tuck you in.
Let me, let me, let me, let me...let me drive you tonight.
My lumbering, purple Chevy Impala.

Note to self : Epitaph

2007-09-04T20:51:00.000-05:00

Alcohol brings out the best and the worst in people, along
with a spattering of elusive chunks.

-Ashwin Benjamin (1984 - 2016)

Sexual Chocolate

2007-09-01T19:22:00.000-05:00

if we were just mixed in the same vat at the chocolate factory
who knows what all would have happened behind the aluminum foil
just the two of us
innocent little milky bars
in the dark and dank box
all alone and yet we have each other
two bars
one plain
and one with nuts

one day, daylight will crack through our cardboard prison,
our tin foil heaven
and we will be parted
our emancipator and executioner will be allergic to my peanuty essence
and i will be 'spared'
oh the shame of the word!
for i will see you grasped from my gooey grip
into the jaws of a gastrointestinal fate...

my shock won't let me bear witness to lying at the bottom of a dust bin
the street sign looming over
silhouetted against the azure satin above
bearing the names, Nixon and Vine
for my life ended a few minutes before
when our chocolaty tendrils were twained apart
i don't feel the fire breathing ants eating me from without
for my within is already naught
all i feel is black

fin

shamelessly rehashed from a chat conversation without the permission of other parties involved.

Gastric Pentameter

2007-07-07T16:24:00.000-05:00

In a recent interview with the Nubile Virgins Society:

you're the high brow intellectual big-word using writer that no one understands

In response:

the sky is blue,
toilet paper is meant for doo doo,
i like beef stoo

Take that you elitist big-wigs. I fart in your general direction.

NB: I have recently been informed by the aforementioned society that this is, in fact, a Haiku and not Pentameter as the title suggests. Guess what... I still fart in your general direction. In fact, I'm going to find me some coleslaw right now.

Snips, snails and puppy dog tails.

2007-06-24T21:33:00.000-05:00

Little boys' room at the Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport

I guess my recipe for cabbage and beans in radish-hummus has gained popularity sooner than expected. Or maybe Dallas was paid a visit by a certain Omani bovine.

Storks on strike, FedEx moves in

2007-06-09T03:20:00.000-05:00

This was stuck on the underside of the lid of a laundry basket I picked up at a garage sale. I'm sure there are bigger issues to deal with than just the risk of suffocation. What about sorting out those over-protective motherly cravings that drive you to shut your kid in a box in the first place. Why don't you build a nest, put him in it and sit on him with your post-natal fatass while you're at it?

Oh, and about the sticker placement...what, you want them to actually place the baby inside the box, and when they're on the verge of putting the lid on, they see it and go, "damn". Honestly, if your demographic includes baby-boxing-boneheads, then put the sticker on the outside. Hell, get a midget (not a baby, that would just be wrong) to pop out of the box after shipping and stick it to their damn faces.

Really Ripped Abs

2007-05-18T23:58:00.000-05:00

And I thought AXE ads were aimed at the untouched crotches of horny teens around the world, but this definitely takes the cake, the candles and the scantily clad bunny-chick crouched inside. Consumerism at its finest.

Tumbleweed

2007-05-18T01:33:00.001-05:00

"Where are you from?"

In the endless line of insightful replies, quick-witted retorts and ingenious comebacks, this is the one question I never knew how to answer. And yet its usually the second question anyone ever asks me. Of course, I respond. A few mumbled words, usually selected to either allay any further questions on the subject, or to form as much rapport as possible with my interrogator. Chennai, Kerala, Trivandrum, Saudi Arabia and, on occasion, Scotland.

I'm proud of the places I've lived during my inconsequential existence, but it invariably brings up questions of my identity. Being able to associate yourself with a place is in no way necessary to lead a fulfilling life, but its like having a favorite stuffed toy. You dont need one, but if someone asks, or in those moments of nostalgia, its always nice to have an answer or image in your head. It is one of those primordial psychological anchors you can always return to when life hands you a turd sandwich.

In order to explain why, exactly, I feel the way I do, we need to dissect the question at the start of this post. What do you mean, or want to find out when you ask someone where they're from. A question I have asked many times with either unsatisfactory responses, or answers with insufficient correlation to a non-existent mean.

"The place where you were born": This is by far my favorite response. I was born in Aberdeen, Scotland. And yet, if I went around telling everyone that I'm a highlander, I probably would have ended up with more bruises than Nicole Kidman after a night of rumpy-pumpy in the sack with yours-truly. In fact, I actually had a couple of people walk away from me when I tried my luck with it. Probably because they thought I was ashamed of my Indian blood and wanted to disassociate myself from the idea of being one. But other people's reactions apart, I honestly can't lay claim to a kilt and an indecipherable accent because I was only there for a year. And all things considered, it probably is the least important year as far as forming a locale-related identity is concerned.
"The place where you grew up": Abha, Saudi Arabia. Apart from the possibility of afore-mentioned violent response, there is the recently developed chance of screams of "terrorist" from the more bigoted bunch. As far as genetic blueprints are concerned, I definitely have a better chance of passing off as a misogynistic oil tycoon than a blue-faced , sword-wielding, cheek-flashing, super-patriot. Hell, I may even look more Arabian than Indian. Bushy eyebrows, hooked noses and evergreen facial hair aside, I couldn't be less associated with the kingdom. I was either surrounded by the stereotypical Indian-in-the-Middle-East families or my American teachers and classmates. My claim to Saudi culture goes as far as being able to differentiate Saudi and Afghani pita bread and to count to six in Arabic along side the obligatory swear word.
"The place you lived the longest": This is definitely the least watertight argument. Until a few years ago, that remained the dusty dunes. And then one morning, I wake up to be a curd-rice popping 'Madrasi' (courtesy NP). Where 'periya veeda' (veedu, veeta? Don't get me started on spelling, as if anyone really gave a squat) doesn't mean a supersized joint, (whowuddathunk!?) and if you offer a girl to come over for a 'pool' party, you'll probably end up with David, Karapakkam Don, on your doorstep in the middle of the night, telling you to say vanakkam to his little friend.
"You're from Kerala, moné", "Umm, why?", "Because your grandparents are from there", * sigh * "What's for dinner?": So my grandparents are from two different places in Kerala, so following your infallible logic, which one is it? Neither, you're from Trivandrum...and before you ask why, it's because thats where they live. Great, at least now I got my roots down to a street name and a house number. An icon to my entire existence, boils down to a place I've hardly been more than 6 months, cumulatively, in my life. Bravo, mother.
"Shut up and sit down, you're from India you ungrateful fart": The less said, the better.

To belong.

Note to self: Tequila

2007-04-29T03:59:00.000-05:00

Never buy a bottle of tequila that costs as much as a single shot in your local pub.

2007-02-26T19:06:00.000-05:00

Romantic Renaissance

2007-02-02T00:55:00.000-05:00

Was going through my hard drive and I found an old article of mine, written at a time less pretty than usual. It's still incomplete, nor is there any intention of finishing it. A masochistic trip down memory lane. Enjoy.

Romantic Renaissance
A call for the overhaul of modern romantic worldview

Some call me a die-hard cynic; others, a chronic pessimist. Personally, I prefer the endearment ‘realist’. Sure, not everything that is ‘real’ is negative, but everyone is so busy being trapped in their euphoric bubbles that I take the crow’s nest and keep a look out for everything else. Incurring judgment is an integral part of the job description. Messiah – Prince of Darkness, Prophet – Harbinger of Doom, Savior – Reaper’s Scythe: the thin line of perspective is all that separates a symbol from its antithesis.

‘Love’. Probably one of the most undefined concepts in the English language, and yet so overused by Hallmark cards and Hollywood cinema. But they alone are not guilty of this. The bug has passed on to society (as do many things which eventually become so widespread and run so deep into the ground that they become, dare I say it, clichéd). Lubricous adolescents lay claim to it the moment they see their new 9^th grade French teacher glide into class. Lace-clad maidens swoon to it when their stately knight canters in on his mighty steed. Love has degraded itself to a mere scapegoat for people to behave beneath their ‘normal’ ethical values and accept sub-par relationship standards. I have seen friends be in long term relationships because they were ‘comfortable’ in it. I’m comfortable in my television room’s bean bag, it doesn’t mean I’m planning to go on one knee dedicate any part of my anatomy other than my buttocks to it any time soon. Frustration that my friends are selling themselves short, frustration that they may be wasting their significant other’s time, all ends up being quelled by the fact that comfort may be good enough for them and me projecting my romantic checklist onto others is narrow mindedly elitist.

But there is always the calm before the storm. They will then tell me of a certain someone who gets their blood-pumping, heart-racing and other hackneyed two-word expressions which pretty much say the same thing. I ask why they don’t pursue a relationship like that or why isn’t the on-your-toes factor important enough to be an aspect in selecting a relationship. The answer always results in me slipping back into my contemplative shell; “but I’m happy enough where I am”, “I don’t want to hurt him/her”, “what if it doesn’t work out, I’m scared to be alone”. I put forth the following questions for you to ruminate over. Why are you in your current relationship? What do you look for in one? Deep within yourself, do you long for something more? If so, why are you still there? What is the meaning of love? The reason I pose these questions to you now is because the rest of this article will get you started on the journey to find the answers if you have none, and question the answers you do have. For life is an iterative process and those who cease to question themselves and their environment cease to desire to improve.

With modern-day media and its penetration levels into society, romantic stereotypes have spread so rapidly that I doubt people realize they have succumbed to them. The incessant craving for being ‘hooked up’ is a prime example of this. Stereotypes, when adopted in one’s life, are not only a sign of a lack of self-identity, but are inherently limiting to one’s potential in a real relationship. Stereotypes don’t provide the flexibility to cater the nuances of its followers.

Some people define themselves based on the relationships they are in. Extrinsically, the comparatively innocent, “if you don’t have a significant other, you suck” is usually a self-proclamation of one’s position in society’s ladder. A far more sinister form of this is when one intrinsically values oneself based on their relationship status. This usually stems from a primordial sense of low self-worth and is compensated for through external sources. Relationships are a prime hunting ground since they are a much more fulfilling gauging system than, say, financial success. The problem is sometimes ‘suitable compensation’ can’t be obtained from one source. Its not that I decry polygamy, but in situations like this it is rarely consensual. If each of the partners is convinced that they are ‘the one’ it makes each relationship seem that much more fulfilling. It may sound far fetched, but it happens.

Don’t let these stereotypes or insecurities cloud your judgment of why you want to be in a relationship or what you want from one. Make sure any reasons you have are your own. If they happen to coincide with a specific episode of Sex in the City, then don’t necessarily disregard it as much as look deeper as to where that need or reason has originated. And not to sound too much like Dr. Phil, but that origin should always be you. Do not expect these reasons and needs to remain stagnant for the rest of your life once you have figured them out. As you go through relationships (more on this later), you will come to realize that you may want different things from them. This doesn’t make your initial reasons ‘wrong’ or less significant, but it is an integral part of the maturing process. These changes in values are what make each relationship so unique and beautiful if done with the right person.

Once you are reasonably sure of what your value system is, then I can’t stress enough how important it is to have them matched with your prospective partner before heading any further. Being in a relationship with someone with different values almost always results in someone being hurt in the long run. Talking things out in the open is a great way to get started in assessing a person. I mean bluntly asking, “Do you think you want a long term relationship?” or, “What’s your take on dating many people at once”. I fail to see why people are hesitant on cutting through all the crap at the possible start of a relationship. It’s as if they have already decided that they are going to be together, and the less they know, the higher the chances of them pulling it off. Sure, it will work for a couple of weeks. But one day when you come over to her place to surprise her with a rented DVD and some popcorn, and you see the place all set up for a candle light dinner and someone else sitting in your chair, and you realize that your invitation was probably not lost in the mail, all you’ll probably be left with is an emotional doggy bag full of “I thought you were ok with us seeing other people at the same time”. Not a pretty picture, I assure you.

There is, however, the issue of the less ‘enlightened’. Those who, even though you categorically state what you want from the relationship, will give you the ‘correct’ response just to be in it. First off, kudos for being able to mesmerize someone so completely. Secondly, in situations like this, you will have to go with your gut based on how the person’s actions coincide with their proclaimed values.

Honesty and openness are two often confused concepts. A lack of openness doesn’t imply being dishonest, and hence it’s not considered sufficiently wrong to avoid. The standard question associated with it is “what good will it do”. A better question to ask yourself is “why don’t I want to bring this out in the open”. Maybe because you know the other person involved will make a decision against your desires. A decision he probably deserves to make. But then again, is it about what you want, or what they deserve? This is the connection between openness and respect which many people fail to make. Once you realize this, and you see yourself not respecting your partner by giving them the right to an informed decision, you will realize that every time you hide something, you are making the relationship more and more of a sham. You are wasting your partner’s time as well as your own by convincing yourself you’re in a relationship which, in reality, might not deserve to exist. The whole attitude of ‘lets not deal with our problems today, so that when it snowballs into something worse later, no one will know’ deserves to be burnt-alive, shot, frozen, defrosted, served as a prisoner’s last meal and shot again. There will definitely be initial bitterness to deal with, but eventually it will lead to appreciation and maybe even respect. And you never know, there might not even be a breakup. In fact, incidents like this are what make the strongest of relationships. Life is not about avoiding all the shit in your way, but how you wade through it.

Sons of Icarus

2007-01-17T20:36:00.000-05:00

The force is inconsequential. If you beat anyone long enough, their wings will fall away; leaving behind only an icy mirage of what they once were only to serve as a flagellate demarcation of the extent of their descent. For self awareness is the final deadly sin bequeathed to us in a world where one's soul is molded by the capricious hands of a vindictive potter. Once thrust into the fires of Acceptance, form, once a fleeting ideal, is now set in stone. The only escape lies in the inevitable erosion by time.

But waiting for oblivion is tedious, especially to a dichotomous soul constantly tearing at itself in a futile attempt at shattering its already cracked mirror. More cracks form, just widening the divide between what was and what is. But alas, the Fallen controls the body and its will. Being unable to quell the torment from within, seeks out a tangible symbol in the world without. Another pair of wings. Wings that taunt in their self-righteousness with every beat. And so the molded stone becomes the potter, Pinocchio becomes Geppetto and it begins again.

Sons of Icarus Narrated

Ode à Garbäzh

2007-01-08T22:55:00.000-05:00

Instead of endless rants about our current state of decadence and offenses against taste and decency emanating from a lack of theology and geometry, I have decided to repent, ephemerally of course, and take action against the very plague that...well...plagues us. However, due to a grad student's nutritional requirements and the resulting American national fiscal deficit, my plans ~~for world domination by disguising my Noodle-Noggin Doll as Janet Jackson's right nipple~~ have been somewhat quashed. My impenetrable sense of responsibility and moral conviction, however, do not provide me the luxury of backing down. What little I can do lies in the power of verse.

Humanity has many unsung heroes. Drones who create the colony and yet are sacrificed without question when the situation whispers for it. As their phantoms rise from the grave, all they hear is the thankless silence of the civilization they built, grinding on. Banal romanticists may worship the unnamed soldier, the engraving on the wall. I'm sure it's tough; virtually limitless job security, benefits which extend to the entire family, bedding women at every port while knowing that if you make it home, you'll be someone's hero. Cursed...really.

No, I speak of societiy's true unsung hero : the garbage man.

Work-in-progress.

Salvation Through the River Styx

2006-12-27T05:21:00.000-05:00

The key to reaching answers to life's enigmas often lies in Perspective.

Unfortunately, Perspective is earned through suffering, or at least wading through adversity. And therein lies the subtle tragedy of the play we're all forced to perform. For if ascribing reason to the Universe's questions is the path to happiness, its pursuit requires us to unlock the box handed down from the heavens. As with the Tree of Life to our primordial ancestors, we are inexorably drawn to poke at the beast; for its the pain from long-healed scars that reminds us that we are human; of the world we could be in, but are not. Without pain, there can be no relief; light without darkness; hope without despair.

The best actors refuse to admit that there even is a play. Idyllic fantasies of endless feasts without something having to give up its life to cater to the whims of an insatiable mob. Life is the serendipitous byproduct of an orb that inherently involves destruction.

It is a shame that the very path to Perspective often leads to a complete loss of faith, be it in humanity, 'the system' or whoever we see fit to lay blame for our own deficiencies in perseverance. It may be an evolutionary survival-skill for the psyche to dwell in our pasts which invariably seems to only consist of snippets of a black history, but the moment it blinds us to what 'is', we are lost in a bottomless spiral of self-destructive patterns.

Open your eyes. Look through the insurmountable decay to the saplings which spring from it.

"Gimli is not a dwarf, he's a little person."

2006-11-25T10:24:00.001-05:00

In a surgically sterile world of euphemisms and political correctness, the people have grown content in their barcaloungers, seated on denial of the substandard. Unpleasantness has no place in a room filled with politician-smiles and corset-clad women.

Work-in-progress.

The Cynic's Scythe

2006-11-17T09:43:00.000-05:00

or all of you in your euphoric bubbles, your picture-postcard lives; rejoice in your lack of omniscience for the cut will be swift and painless.

Without prejudice, without malice; the reaper strikes. As wrong, as evil as the typhoon which rips the pram from Mother's hands. It's just reality, the weight of circumstance we're all asked to bear. And those who see it not shall be blessed.

The remaining live not in fear, for that is reserved for the unknown. Dwindling numbers are bolstered by faith in empty maxims that knowledge is power. Does power corrupt in damnation?

As the scales tip, the templars; defenders of humanity's innocence; are once again betrayed and looked upon with contempt. The very pedestrians they were sworn to protect turned their backs on them. For acknowledgment of the knights' existence is a sore reminder of the reality they've shunned.

Now all live in fear of the Cynic's Scythe.