Point of No Return

As long as I reach somewhere, Cheshire Cat…

But I am not quite sure, if that SOMEWHERE is actually that important. Let me rephrase it. ” As long as I am moving.”  Yes, now it looks like it.

Okay, now how to make it a commercially viable plan? I mean let’s think of a business model. What? You thought we could carry on with this freaky voyage without timely monetary investments? Let’s get some VCs together. No, VC neither means Vice Chancellor nor Vice Chairman. They are venture capitalists Poodle. Cheshire cat has to still tutor you in various things. You somehow float in romance but forget to get out of it. Your transtitions to the real world is always so jerky! You will have to understand where and when we have come out of the burrow. I know there are no signs, but you should feel it from within. Yes, of course there are dangers of split personality, but you should have thought about it before becoming a part fo this. What say Cheshire Cat?

 

Rain

“What does rain do to you Alice?”

It had just given Poodle the orgasm it had longed for. 

“It’s my moment of liberation Poodle. Embracing everything that life has to offer-from thorns to thisles, roses to poppies. You walk under the shield of rain directionless. You feel your self and understand what it means to walk alone.”

“Are you alone, Alice? I mean you feel lonely?”

“No Poodle, every person is the central character of his life. A life that is one’s own. To each his own.  Celebrate singlehood Poodle!”

 

Self: written in 2007

I was searching for myself

in the pages of my old notebooks

It was painful to watch

the journey towards oblivion in the pages of past

You only realise

That you do not exist 

Anymore.

 

Ruby Cube

Creek, Kreeek, Ckreeeck……..Krrrrreeeeck.

Like the umpteen sounds of a rickety door, life tries upon itself a few rubycubic permutations and combinations.

Funnily enough, we stand at those junctures more often than not.

“Ruby Cubbiic???What’s that Alice?”

“It’s a game poodle. A puzzle game. People sometimes take years to solve it.”:

“You mean to say, they keep on playing it without getting tired? And they continue playing it for years? I lose all my patience during my game of patience, and at times I even lift the cards to see what’s underneath.”

” Daring of you to have admitted the dishonesty you indulge in, in this one man’s game. Sorry for the sexist usage.”

“Oh that’s because we are in your wonderland and nobody else hears it. And I do’t mind telling it to you. But about this Ruby Cube thing…I must say I am intrigued. Are you sure people don’t cheat to finish the game in say one hour?”

“There are tricks, but what’s the point then? Are you playing for your brain cells to open up, or to show others that yu have open brain cells?”

 

Truly Great

•  

  MY walls outside must have some flowers,

  My walls within must have some books;

  A house that’s small; a garden large,

  And in it leafy nooks. 

  …..

  W.H. Davies

  There are many more lines to this poem, but the rest of the poem is of no meaning to me…

 

Another ONE..or TWO, may be THREE…Poodle wants to run back

Gosh! Where’s Alice? I know she does not like going to high end places, and is mostly found on streets smelling scents of fuming curries from the shacks. That’s how she got injured the last time. But she has recuperated, except for the fact that her long tresses are gone. She had to be operated upon in her brain. Hence they shaved it off..her head. But I need to search her soon. I can’t wait to be in the wonderland again. So what if I have to fight my illusionary existence there? At least I do not have to face gunbattles during supper.

 

What Day is It?

‘Shit!!!!”

“What?”

“I said shit!!!”

“With three exclamation marks?”

“How do you know I pronounced three exclamation marks?”

“From the length and breath of it”

“Hmmmmm…”

“So what was it for?”

” What day is it?”

“2nd of October. Why? Anything specific?”

“Of course yes, it is a DRY day!”

“Oh Shit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

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“Thank God! Alice’s fine now, she’s recovering fast. I came to know about her from the news channels. Yes, they have been trying to catch hold of any possible survivor of the blast victims for an interview. I saw an interview of one person who had to amputate his legs and had almost half of his face burnt badly, not to mention other injuries. It looked horrible on TV. But of course there was an intruction below the footage: ‘The images may be shocking.’”, Poodle said with a lot of ‘I know it all’ confidence.

“So?” came a reply, or may be a question.

“So the news channel cannot be blamed for the telecast. They warned people after all!” 

” But what the hell is it all about? I mean, why do they need to play the ‘warning’ afterall?”

” Oh! The ‘warning’ is actually a hidden advertisement of the claimed to be exclusive footage”

No doubt, Poodle knows it all!

 

Individuality is such an illusionary bug!

That day Poodle met Alice in the city. It could not believe, she was lying in a pool of blood! Still breathing, but in tremendous pain. Poodle felt helpless as it could not lift her and take her to a more secure place. And it had no clue where the wonderland was. Yes, Poodle firmly believed everything could be taken care of in Alice’s wonderland. It was secure and full of narcotic poppies.

While Poodle was still toying with several ideas about how to rescue her, someone lifted her and took her away in a stretcher. The white patches on her frock could hardly be seen. They had completely soaked the red from the pool of blood she was lying in. A deafening selective silence engulfed Poodle’s ears. It could hear the pounding heart and Alice’s faint screeches. 

Was Alice escapist? How often would she visit her wonderland? Several questions revolved around Poodle’s mind.  Would she been suffering this if she had stayed there for ever?  But why would she? There was no body there except for corpses of war victims. Wars of humanly existence. Wars of individuality. People would follow Alice to the wonderland and would never come back. They give in to death as they cannot cope with their self. And Alice would visit the place to clean it.

So, Alice was actually cleaning the wonderland that day!

 

Freedom from Light…

As my eyes burn with the pepper sprayed over its wet wound, I rethink. About my equation with the minuscule micro organisms which crawled over it once. I am blinded now. But the wound still hurts. I cannot see my own wound though. It is funny.

How did the pepper after all reach my eyes? Nobody blew the fan. Or that’s what I believe. I am a neoteric blind. I am still getting used to it. My blindness I mean. I do not hear far flunked sounds, yet. Who made good films last in Germany?  The Golem was the last I saw.

Coming back to my blindness, the situation is funny. I sleep with my eyes wide open. And feel the peace which darkness used to give me when I could still see, all the time now. The lampshades have become antiques. The electricity bill I pay is only for the music system, the blender and the desert cooler that I possess in the name of electrical goods, or probably a couple of more which do not really require eye handling. I have finally managed to learn to fill water without anyone else’s help into the cooler. I still cannot figure out where the mouse is going on my personal computer. Hence that has almost become obsolete for me. I spend my time learning braille and listening to “Hey! Mr. Tambourine man play a song for me…I am not sleepy and there’s no place I am not going to.”