Traffic Signal.

Chapter 1. 

The optimum model of humanity.

“..aah, the atrocity of the humanity has always been fumbling at their peaks. What is right now will be wrong the other day, as the divinity became tangible and humanity became less and less pure.” Said the lady sitting in the black sedan, that has been stopped here because there is an important minister needs to hurry. Outside whose car stood the child barefoot who had been tapping at the same velocity as the precipitation has found its way on his forehead. 

She was running late, she have been called by the event organizer to remind that the event is gonna happen with or without her. And with her reputation on line, she decided to deliver the speech via the well known means of communications.

She looked at him, and his wonder reflected hers. Putting her hand on the microphone she spoke abruptly,”What do you want child? Huh? Can’t you see I am busy telling these people how humanity is not humanity anymore? I don’t have any change to spare. Shush.” 
Shushing him right before he could speak, the lady sermon resumed her speech, “People don’t even have a minute to spare these days, let alone a penny to feed a stomach that has known food as luxury. Is this society we want to live in!?” 

She took a pause to look at the child again and there he was standing with a hand over his stomach, mouth trying to imitate the rumblings she could have heard if not busy with her phone delivering the speech. 

She spoke once again, “This society we live in has mocked the unfortunates, on the events I can’t even fathom. The simplicity…” words came out as she donned the necklace for the gala event for which she was running late. “..has lost its meaning, the sanity..” She grabbed the flask and two sips later she resumed, “..of humanity has been lost forever in the ruins of morals.” 

The child unable to speak, tapped once more, but little did he knew he is going to poke the lioness. “WHAT!?”the ferocious lioness roared. The whole charade stopped at the traffic signal witnessed the rage she showed.

Taken aback by the yelling child fell on the ground, the scorching road of concrete must given him the souvenir on his buttocks.

She resumed her speech, ” Sorry for the disturbance, there must a loss of signal. As I was saying, this is not how a society should act. Are we this little hearted that we can’t spare anything?!” 

Her other cellphone pinged, the text from boss came, “You better pitch them to give us 1 million, the event alone costed 2 grands.” 

As soon as the kid recovered he conjured the strength and divorced shame and tapped once again. 

To this tap the ears of sermon rendered deaf and the tapping grew but as grew her voice. She lit the smoke while the tapping became constant and the oration on the other side continued and she took a long drag in which relaxed her a little and the glare became less intoxicating towards the kid. 

Maybe she took pity on the poor kid, her gaze became less condescending and she reached for the button to lower the window. 

2 inches it opened and she protrude the cigarette outside the window and tapped the ash right next to the little fella who still had hope in his eyes. 

“Damn these idiots.” She announced as if the kid understood it is directed towards him. And suddenly the her tongue had the name of God, “Thank god this fucking traffic opened up.” 
She instructed the driver to run it at the pace of Pegasus. Leaving the little kid out in the wind. The little kid fell again, but recovered and watched the traffic signal turn green. So he recovered himself and stood aside from the honking megalomaniacs. And waited there patiently for the traffic light to turn red. 

The god with two faces.

Why is it that the world we live in is so meaningless

Why is that the world we live in so full of life?

Don’t you think the world is consumed by Greed, Pride and Lust?

Don’t you think the world is offering Generosity, Modesty and Love?

If your past wouldn’t have existed, someone else would have existed. 

 If your past wouldn’t have existed, You wouldn’t have existed!

Don’t you realise you are just a piece of this world?

Don’t you realise you are the most important piece of your world?

What you wouldn’t have given to take everything from your enemies, I know. 

What you wouldn’t have done to forgive your enemies, I know. 

What you wouldn’t have done to erase the past, I know. 

What you wouldn’t have done to revisit your past once more,  I know. 

You know that dreams lead to hope, and hope leads to despair. 

You know that nightmares are temporary, and the more they hit you down the more velocity you will have when you will get back. 

You pathetic creature. 

You beautiful human.

You who represents every sin god forbade. 

You who represents every virtue heaven gave. 

You know it’s only meaningless to live in this world. 

You know it’s only meaningful to live in this world.

You are the Demon who have reigned in disguise. 

You are the Angel who have kept his pace in silence.

This curse of living, the burden of deeds, this meaningless idocracy of unfaithful buffoons. 

This miraculous journey, the joy of living, the euphoria of living, this amendment of humanity. 

Will come to an end so don’t worry. 

Will come to an end and you better hurry. 


The Warrior of Rage

The warrior of rage held his sword,

Lingering alone, away from the horde,

The rage of his sword sheathed in scabbard, 

Is waiting for one last victory, one last battle, 

He who remained undefeated in all of realm,

Led the army in war, holding the helm, 

He held the scars dear and rebuked the medals,

Who butchered his enemies just like cattles,

This warrior of rage who stands defeated,

Has never in his life has ever forfeited, 

His blade of rage destroyed empires,

And he never in the battle ever retires,

But now he feels the guilt of his rage,

For the heads he slaughtered in his hayday, 

Now this warrior seeks for the peace,

Who ventured in the crowd just to cease, 

This solider who gave up to gravity of his crimes,

Waits broken in the field hoping for a shrine,  

He took out the blade and removed the red, 

Though as he held, it cut, but he never bled, 

Neither does his madness nor does his pride, 

Is willing to give up and they are hungry for fight, 

They whisper to the solider, “Grab that blade, 

Destroy these fuckers, walking in pave,

These lowly mortals who defy your respect, 

These crooked insects waiting for bread.”

The warrior didn’t feel, the warrior didn’t flinch,

He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t get the hint,

This blade he holds has killed millions, 

In the name of justice and in the name of rebellion, 

His mortal self suddenly heard the flutter, 

Two wings of freedom came out from gutter,

They flew till they got tired, 

They soothed his desires, 

They mocked his rage, 

They reminded him of his debt, 

But they were just messengers, and they stayed, 

As the butterfly rested, on the edge of his blade.

The kingdom and The river.

The walls ran thin, the bells don’t ring,

The kingdom of life is lifeless indeed,

And the river that gave it beautiful memoirs, 

Is now the adversary in the kingdom’s creed. 
Sun is up mocking the sight,

The veins of kingdom being flooded by sorrow, 

Yet the bell beater one feel droughty, 

Waiting at verge of less painful morrow. 
Shredding of sins, from the skin akin,

Purifying in a way that condemns the living, 

Yet the beating one feel righteous, 

Even though she is unforgiving. 
My beating one, longs for the one, 

With whom he drew his own kingdom, 

Where the rivers ran with gilt, guilt of pride, 

The kingdom which accepted her as his bride. 
The kingdom forgot that river takes turns, 

On the to him the river churns, 

Of morrow, of yester, of that wicked pastor, 

Who dipped in the river in the name of holy scripture. 
The commoners of kingdom refused to believe, 

That the river ran dry for a pitiful deed, 

From the love of whom the kingdom was built, 

Has left the kingdom in search of guilt. 
From the Whys and whens

to there and then, 

The river of life averted her path, 

Towards a morrow more beautiful than last. 
The kingdom which never had a river, 

Is waiting now for the rains and simmers, 

Maybe the river will come back once again, 

Even if she comes to drown the kingdom within, 

The kingdom will blemish for the final embrace, 

The river will end the sorrows of the concourse, 

The kingdom will be buried under the river’s bed,

And the urn of the ashes will sing in river’s Grace. 

Brave New World.

Urgent Message to World! To the Brave New World!”
“Oh God! Why did you hid this book from me?” 

This amazing piece of dystopian future and literature have crafted an image in my mind which is scary and yet so accurate. The Philosopher and writer Aldous Huxley, have played everything so wonderfully accurate that you the world it creates is fairly similar to our reality. I often wonder myself that whether the book 1984 and Brave New World are the blueprints of society. 

The Brave New World has so much power in its pages that it is the evidence of vividly known idiom, “Pen is mightier than sword.” 

It will not be fair and even justified to the reader if I accidentally reveal something from the book; hence I refrain myself from speaking about the literature it is concealing. 

Yet the ideologies and the structure doesn’t let it wander in Dystopian Fiction. I really feel compelled to tell you, instead I will WARN you that the book will, at several points will have you confused and connected to the world around you. 

I have found the map to blueprints of something I believe is of greater importance and I will continue to explore. 
If you have the void created by functioning of society then this book will help fill the hole with delicacy. You will need an open mind, you will have to discard the theories and your egos to dive in the depth of words waiting for you. BUT, this adventure is worth it. 

I dare! 

How many of you have been bullied? If you were bullied, then I am not sorry. I don’t have slightest guilt or remorse to offer. Because if I had read about you, or heard about you, I would have done what most of the people do.. “Tsk-Tsk… poor soul”. And I might have said few things about how it’s bad and how we should not do it. But is that all? That’s it? That’s fu**ing it!? Someone died, someone has been troubled just because he is different and all you could do is move the muscle of your tongue and make that sound. 

We both know you will do that again, and trust me I know that many of the readers have left on that paragraph, calling me dumb names, making fun of me, or doing things that could remotely effect me somehow.. those are the people who pushed that kid in the locker, danced on his desk when he was talking to his friend, made fun when he wanted to be more like his dad or someone more inspiring that “swag” or “Justin Bieber”.
 That little guy you pushed in that locker had bigger dreams than your ego. 
But you couldn’t accept that could you? You wanted to feel superior! And how? By picking up on the guy who just want to be accepted. Who just wanted to be another face in the crowd, not a weird disease, not a clown, not someone who wants to be remembered as trash. You call them, you hurt them, you sometimes even go to hunt them down! Because your ego is more important than his mental health, physical health, and his life.
You don’t care if he is cool in his own way. You don’t care that even after all that you put him through all he wants to make you his friend. Maybe someone he could show his magical world to, someone who would pick that stick from garden and fight some Dragon before calling him weird. But to you it’s all just stupid, isn’t it? After all, you don’t care about all that, you don’t have the guts to look in the eyes of that kid, now grown up, to even ask for forgiveness. 

But you have little shame in you, don’t you? I am trusting in you at this point, maybe not shame, but regret, guilt, that is eating you up. You have imagined walking down the corridor in his shoes and you have imagined how would it have felt if you were the one to get the beating for no reason. 
Maybe you have that guilt, maybe your child is being bullied, or maybe he took after you and became a bully. Ask him, talk to him, you don’t want to have the same regrets like you have. He needs someone who could guide him, like you needed someone who could have guided you. 
Be a parent. Don’t encourage bullying. 

Daring

Idiotic child. 

Where did those days went where love was a cookie and fear was a monster.

Where did that time went, homework was easy and naps were funny.

Where one pocket in pants meant we were gonna be rich. 

It didn’t matter if it was dollar or dime. 

Maybe the sun won’t shine again and maybe I won’t be so fine.
Life when was not a puzzle but a pizza with cheese. 

When it was not a debate who is a friend and who is an enemy. 

When games were not so complicated, 

When politics was just a subject. 

Now we rely on the game of politics and have ourselves saved from fine.

Maybe the sun won’t shine again and maybe I won’t be fine. 
Oh it was easy how simple the life was, 

A few chores now and a chores then and that was enough. 

Mom and dad were always there they weren’t sleeping in ground. 

They were there to hold my hand and spin the things around.

Now they smile, now they dance, only in pictures and films. 

Now they won’t come to save my ass from this paradigm. 

Well maybe the world is not cold and maybe I am not ready to fold. 

But the Sun won’t shine and I won’t be fine and life’s gonna be a bitch. 

The imaginary friends.

In the past I often stumbled upon the meaning of anApology. Is it that I am accepting a defeat? Or am I letting someone’s belief be proven from mine? Or is it simply a senseless social responsibility to function in the world as humans?

As my logical brain had taken most of the decision I went with the third option and I found it be working quite nicely. But that was when I was a kid. For me that time it was another word said to have the relationship intact rather than letting it die in the name of my imaginary friend “ego”.

Little did I knew that my imaginary friend would harness from the hormonal changes and as I hit puberty the imaginary friend hit it as well. Now when it came to apologize I had better excuses and I could just let them see how wrong there were. I often told them why and what I did in order to avoid the labour of my lips mumbling, “I am sorry.”

Now the imaginary friend has an imaginary friend of it’s own, the “isolation”. And “ego” loves “isolation” so much that it cannot function without it. It would often drag me out of social conventions just so the “isolation” could grew as the mentor “ego” saw to it.

Now I have, like most of humans, a childish debate but not the attitude towards apology and I am feeding both of my imaginary friends as they now control me.

– Another human

The curtain call- a poem

Before the stage are those who laughed and mocked, 

With their tilted heads they judged and they cocked,

We held our head low as they went on,

We knew that time that this time will be gone.
We are not aliens, we are the society’s missing attitude,

We don’t fit in, we don’t need to,

We play our games and we follow our rules,

You may cut our branches but not our roots, 

We have what you lost while you grew up, 

In the hope of beauty when you throw up, 

We lie on our beds and we laugh at your face,

We laugh how the society has caught you in the cage. 
Insane, inane, we have many names,

Knights and queens and pawns of the game,

We breath and eat just as you same, 

Yet we are dealt a different kinda pain. 
You find yourself in the eyes of other, 

We smile at ourselves in the broken mirrors,

We use the strength among us as whole,

Come on call again,”nerdy asshole”
We are the V as in Victory’s might, 

We are the wings of eagle’s flight,

We are not broken or shattered at all, 

We are preparing for the curtain call.

The ticking clock- a poem

The Clock ticks and it says nine,
I grab my bag and run to hide,
“I have an ache in my tiny stomach,
Mommy I think I should rest on the hammock”

My mom buys it and I am free,
With games and friends I will glee,
No more division of my cells,
Now I will play with my few friends.

The homework won’t bother for another day, 
That monster I have slayed is gonna stay,
In the books where it does belong,
Not in my brain to make it numb. 

Billy the bully won’t throw me on ground,
I won’t be pinned in the “lost and found”
I will enjoy the relishing dessert,
And afterwards maybe, a little homework. 

The clock says its ten and now I rest, 
Mommy don’t know about the pain in my chest, 
Maybe it will stop after I doze off, 
Or as the uncle said when the clock will stop. 
It’s a weird looking device on my wrist,
The numbers don’t go up, maybe it’s stupid,

Mommy cried again, she yelled in the phone,
Daddy has left, he is never home, 
The Clocks in my house are never the same, 
But if my clock says zero I will win the game.