The Nondescript Anonymous

"“Every man builds his world in his own image. He has the power to choose, but no power to escape the necessity of choice.” – Ayn Rand

Tag: random

An Epilogue…

I woke up with a start.

I had been dreaming…it was a nightmare. I could still see the blood stains…I could still hear her cry. It’s a dream that cripples me but it’s only a dream. And, it was perhaps the single most reason why I wanted to sleep. I wanted to get up but I was too heavy for myself… I could see the tiny droplets of water as they trickled down my veins…I was thirsty. I could reach them but I pulled myself back. I was not thirsty. I could not be. It was only a dream.

The room was dark except for the light coming in through the ventilator. I loved the murky darkness that filled the room…but beyond that I did not know a thing. I did not know where I was. But somehow, I knew that I existed and I have existed for as long as I can remember.

Those cruel monsters, they laugh at me. They think I am mad. There is none that believes me. She is…she is only a little girl…they can’t see her cry, they are blind. She is bleeding…that poor little thing, somebody please help her! They are laughing…those beasts! I know she needs my help and I have to help her…

 I was crawling…I could see the light outside…I was close…very close to the ventilator. I knew I could make it but, I was stopped short by a bullet that hit me in my chest and I died.

Moments later, I opened my eyes. I had been unconscious for a long time, I told myself. The cell was still dark. I looked at the ventilator and I knew that it was the dream. It was not real. I laughed. My laughter echoed through the walls of the cell. I laughed again. It was not real, I reminded myself… My body was aching…I could not move…but I knew that the pain was temporary. It would soon pass away.

Light shone in through the ventilator. It was another day. The cell was darker than usual. The pain had passed away. It was indeed temporary. The girl had stopped crying.

Note – This post had first appeared in another blog of mine – ‘Through a Kaleidoscope’; that blog, at present, is defunct.



There are the lucky ones – who are born without any physical or psychological difficulties, who are always several steps ahead of their time, who break records and earn accolades, the kind which makes their generation proud, the archetype which sets precedence, they are the standard by which every other is measured. They are the loyal servants who never question…they are programmed to follow. They are the evil grins behind an innocuous masquerade, the hidden enemies in your list of trusted friends, the invisible dagger at your throat.

Then, there are those miserable fools who are abnormally usual by birth. They are wild, free and careless…they are unfazed by the status quo and its relentless pursuit in trying to rein them in. In a demesne of straight lines, they are the grotesque bends; the misfits in a world of blind faith. They think the unthinkable, dream the unimaginable. They are the ones you diplomatically avoid. In a baffling crowd, it is their voice you hear. You hate them because they perplex you. By your standards of imagination, they are unashamedly overstretched.

 You look for them, you see them everywhere…you look further, they are gone.


Being indecisive is the worst form of depravity.

It is like being stuck in limbo…or a time warp. You pray, you wait for a sign to show you the way. You see miracles but they ignore you. You hope; your lamp burns out. You protest, you lose your sleep. You rebel or at most, you give up… You seek motivation, you seek help; it is your hand alone that reaches out. You cry foul, you plan revenge…you try to break free, you try to break out. You see the angels, they are here to take you home. Your tilted hour glass, your memory frozen in time… a distant Moonlight Sonata, a hallucinating mind. You are tired; you see…your soul needs rest.

You drown yourself in your glass of wine; your burnt pride; that helpless red in your eyes are all yours to keep. Who are you trying to kill? Immortal apathy never dies.

Up Close

What do you think defines a person?

Is it the accumulated reputation of impeccability that he has built over the years, behind the veil of conceited sanctity or is it the unusual careless, naked self  that rebels against the obscene moratorium of vanity ?

Which is more important – truth or admissible interpretations of it? 

If a moment of truth can destroy a person, the premise on which this foundation of ‘characterization’ lies must be severely scrutinized. They are contradictory and hence, they nullify each other.  


‘Saucerful’ of Ideas

Another blog.

I remember the awkward feeling that had gripped me the first time I went up on stage to address a gathering of about five hundred people. I distinctly remember the half-broken “good morning”, almost breaking into a cackle as the sound of my voice emanating from the bête noire loudspeakers echoed in my ears.

The usual problems associated with new ventures are, in essence, derivatives of inexperience. My blog, being just another blog, is no exception to it. I have no content, no preparation, nothing to write home about. The only way to overcome this handicap, as I had realized in those intense hours before a houseful of audience, is by accepting the impediment to be an impediment and then, acting on it as though it never existed.

I shall be back soon.

%d bloggers like this: