In the great mountains of Uvapishidora, there are rich and at random locations, well decorated in flowery embroidery and intricately adorned Ape Kings for each range and a mighty sword each of great lineage. But they never go to war, they just use the swords to check the ripeness of their many lovely myriad variety of exotic fruits.
Among these great Ape Kings or Yeshums, there is one of them of certain distinguishness that for this story to have a plot, if not be another one of my foolish night writings, has to be talked about, well, in humongous detail. Hell, imma make this all about King Jaraka. Because, one, a short story is best with the least employment of characters and it's way past midnight, and two, because I'm no Christopher Paolini thinking up awesome weird names.
Okay, so King Jaraka here, was a pretty awesome kind of king. Kind of like the emperor in the 'Emperor's new groove,' minus the skinniness and the eventual show of heart in his character. (Come on, I have to show SOME originality.)
Moving on, Jaraka was massive. The biggest, meanest ape. Hell, he was so mean, he just had to look at them fruits and say, "they're ready" in his sexy, gruff baritone. His sword hadn't been touched since he started to rule his range of the mountains. It was just kept there, beside his throne, as a show piece, because it looked so good. In fact, it looked too good to be used. Jaraka was in that sense, a big show off. He had the best looking apewomen as his mistresses, the finest adornments, the ripest fruits arranged disorderly (because that was considered to be of the highest order) in his yelluminum platter.
One day, while Jaraka lay in the recliner especially designed with the top levels of comfort for his size, he had a thought. He wondered why the mountains were so purple, why the fruits so many different shades of purple. He wondered why his women had purpler hair than their bodies and why babies were so purple for the first 10 months of their lives, why every thing in the world he knew was PURPLY!
His frustration grew, as it should; all unyielding thoughts are ill known to aggravate that sorry state. It occurred to him that beyond all reasoning, there had to be an explanation. There had to be a world existing far above the skies or on Thashir, which is what they called the moon, which was also kind of purple. He felt zealous and energized by the thought that grew overwhelmingly fast and seemed to encapsulate all his being with a vitality he hadn't felt before. A sense of purpose to discover the unknown: a mystery that could lead him and all of Uvapishidora to a world of new unexplored things. A world not so purple, perhaps. The purpleness of things started to irritate him now.
Everywhere he looked, there was purple. In the river he saw purple fishes, in the sky, purple birds. He didn't even know the word purple. In his mind everything looked 'tomban'. There was an ever growing sense of urgency that prevailed inside of him. He was tired and sick of the tombaness of things.
And so he closed his eyes, and slept for 28.5 hours, because that was the longest time a Yeshum could sleep before suddenly disappearing into oblivion. Without alarm clocks or such technology, Yeshums would awake solely on survival instinct. And because Jaraka was the awesomest King, he awoke exactly at the 28.5th hour, not a millisecond less. The other Yeshums would awake at the 28.2nd hour out of sheer paranoia. But he went the farthest, as with everything. He was the limit-breaker, the brave-hearted and sturdy King with intellect, as clearly shown earlier, as that of any well human.
As soon as Jaraka awoke, the tombaness of things again shook him so violently, that it was also physical. He awoke, growling with such an extremity and loudness, so as to awake and anger a pride of young healthy lioness'. There was, unfortunately no amount of yelling that could help his situation.
He realised this after a good 7.75 minutes. I said he was intelligent, but not that much. He is an ape after all.
Then he sat on the ground wearing a doleful expression identical to that of a nine year old pug who has given birth to 23 puggies, and so has the wisdom enough to carry off the look with perfect credibility.
Another thing that separated Jaraka from the other Yeshums was that he had 21st century sun glasses on, 24/7. He hadn't even known he was wearing them, because in that era, there were no forms of reflection. The other Yeshums thought that Jaraka was born with "that special gift" and were too proud to ask him about it, they knew in their minds that it was probably what made him so mighty and mean. When Jaraka saw other kings, he felt more handsome than them, but his face, he felt, was just like the other apes. The others called the glasses his Gewata behind his back. Jaraka's Gewata was quite the chick magnet. The women dug the whole unique look. They thought it made him special. And it did. Little did he know, but the glasses had a purple/tomban tint. And the reason he thought babies were purple for 10 months is because he never saw older than 10 month babies.
Jaraka got fed up of his doleful expression. It took him a lot of muscle movement to get the look right and he was itching for a meal. He called Jenupa, his favourite woman, and asked her to make him something to eat. But it had to be untomban. She stood puzzled, big breasted and bimbo looking. (yes fascination with boobs dates THAT far back.) She had zero clue as to what to do. She dared not ask him what he meant for fear of not being his favourite anymore. She dared not question him, because she hated Kyalu, the other bigger breasted woman who was his number 2 woman, and Jenupa would not in her lifetime permit any Kyalu or Byalu, for that matter, to take her rightful position. For she earned it. The plastic surgeon, the same purple glasses bringer dude from the 21st century, was paid 57 bishies in Uvapishidora money to get herself her precious silicons. 57 bishies translated to barely .37 cents but what did Dr. Adams care. He was rich enough thanks to the amazing time machine he invented. Plus it was worth the fun of fixing purple sunglasses onto the face of the biggest baby he could find.
Jenupa wandered the mountain, searching for the untomban fruit. It was an aimless search, but remember, she was a bimbo, so she searched anyway, expecting herself to chance upon something untomban. It never occurred to her that if she did, she wouldn't know it's untombanity from the rest. So it was a fruitless search, quite literally and eventually she gave up the hunt, leaving her fate to rest on her big breasts, like other bimbos do.
She positioned herself in front of the King and told him she couldn't, for the life of her find him an untomban fruit, all the while heaving her large breasts dramatically, hoping for the desired effect of forgiveness.
Jakara, like all truly mean people with no heart in their character then asked her to 'buzz off' (yes that's where that phrase came from) and then proceeded, like Hitler, to commit suicide. He slept this time, without making any mental alarms to ever wake up. And alone in the Yeshum's cave, at the end of the 28.5th hour, he disappeared into oblivion. Oblivion, that for once, didn't look purple/tomban to his true, unglassed eyes.
This story is written as a tribute to the legendary Douglas Adams. Also, I made it a point to include all my favourite things. Apes, fruits, mountains, babies, pugs, Christopher Paolini :P, time machines, recliners, and boobs. I am straight, though, and single, if you are wondering, mysterious Mountainview California (nice single straight funny awesome male) stalker. Other stalkers too, actually, for all you know MV guy is an hairy old piggy perv. :)
Friday, October 28, 2011
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Kamna now Watchable!
My very own YOUTUBE CHANNEL!!! >>>> CLICK
I do covers on my guitar, sometimes without (if I don't like the chords ;)) and am working on some originals too!
I do covers on my guitar, sometimes without (if I don't like the chords ;)) and am working on some originals too!
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
New Quotes
For people who believe strongly in the illusiveness of life, to doubt would be more correct than to bear full conviction about anything at all. But then again that questions their primary belief in illusions. - Aditi
A world without faith in a higher power or a god is a better world where we can be responsible for our own actions; where we can be kind to one another because we want to and because it is the right thing to do instead of being frightened into behaving by the threat of divine punishment.
Many events may have defied your ability to explain, events that seem like miracles, but if you are convinced that you failed to understand them because you're still woefully ignorant about the universe and the learning will never stop, then, you cannot and will not believe that a deity altered the workings of nature.
Don't ignore reality in order to comfort yourself, for once you do, you make it easy for others to deceive you.
Understanding breeds empathy.
We do not write because we want to. We write because we have to.
For failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail.
If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous, he will not bite you. This is the principal difference between a dog and a man.
To steal ideas from one person is plagiarism. To steal from many is research.
Don't drown the man who taught you to swim.
Be careful about reading health books. You might die of a misprint.
A world without faith in a higher power or a god is a better world where we can be responsible for our own actions; where we can be kind to one another because we want to and because it is the right thing to do instead of being frightened into behaving by the threat of divine punishment.
Many events may have defied your ability to explain, events that seem like miracles, but if you are convinced that you failed to understand them because you're still woefully ignorant about the universe and the learning will never stop, then, you cannot and will not believe that a deity altered the workings of nature.
Don't ignore reality in order to comfort yourself, for once you do, you make it easy for others to deceive you.
Understanding breeds empathy.
We do not write because we want to. We write because we have to.
For failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail.
If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous, he will not bite you. This is the principal difference between a dog and a man.
To steal ideas from one person is plagiarism. To steal from many is research.
Don't drown the man who taught you to swim.
Be careful about reading health books. You might die of a misprint.
Saturday, October 08, 2011
Mowgli
I only name this Mowgli because, one, I mention him twice, in two different contexts. And two, because naming it 'ponderings' or 'thoughts' would make it super done. Oh, and because Mowgli is awesome.
Experiences form a mind. Each person is defined by their experience, good or bad. A great mind directly correlates to great experiences. Each experience good or bad, constitutes each part of your beliefs. You believe what you see, what you're told, what you feel. But these are all obvious statements. As usual, I have a string of questions to complicate the simplicity of this fact, like every other common knowledge -- which is basically what we have led ourselves to believe is true, and thus have created facts. We see the ground and say it's the ground. We've forged an identity for this thing that looks kind of groundy and so we call it the ground. What makes the ground groundy we know is by it's characteristics. You name a white dog snowy, for example. But again I am drifting from my string of questions.
Experiences; they ought to teach you something that forms part of things you build faith in or lose faith in. It formulates and shapes the way you think.
Questions:
What if a bad experience, instead of lending good judgement, screws it up even more, so that you are forced to believe in untruths so passionately that it seems impossible for you to ever revert to yourself before that experience?
Is believing in the wrong that was the effect of that experience merely a state of fake wisdom, a false illusion that you are supposed to eventually grow out of and become a little more mature?
I hate that word, maturity. It signifies a state of conformity to normalcy; normalcy that is not even true, normalcy that is another fallacy created by everyone to maintain sanity. If we could do what we wanted whenever we wanted, if there was no lying, no wrongdoing, the world as we know it would fall apart. Truth is another fallacy which is confounding, because the word itself is so reminiscent of all that is honest and sincere. We need the lying, without lies nothing could exist. We tell ourselves things, lies, every second of the day. It's all a lie, what we see what we feel what we KNOW. What we know to be true isn't true for sure. The word know means you are told something or you have convinced yourself something. You can't just know anything. That's bullshit. If you give birth to a child and leave him to live alone. The trees the rivers the mountains aren't gonna take care of him. He'll die in 2 days. Well unless he's Mowgli.
Okay again, going back to the maturity topic. I hate having to mature. We tell ourselves it's the proper course, to "grow up", but question(s), where is the growing up when all we are learning to do is from what we see others do and what these 'others' tell us is the mature thing to do? Who told them how to be mature? Vedic scriptures, God books, self help books written by know-it-all life gurus? Shouldn't growing up come from doing things never been done? Rising, being different. I wonder what it feels like to be insane. Maybe that's something worth inspiring to be. Why strive for normalcy? Why be like everybody else? Why not aspire to know the unknown? Why, because of the sick undefeated ability of fear. It seeps inside and messes up everything. Everything we do is out of fear. We're doing so much, we become so mechanical about the doing of things, that the fear is minimized in the background and you never feel it or take notice of it anymore/ever. The truth is, we lie out of fear. Whatever we know, we have made ourselves know for fear of not knowing anything and going mad. But we don't know still, why going mad is such a bad thing. It could be the most liberating thing in the world.
It could be the most natural, the most simple thing in the world.
But our reasoning ability will never allow man to live simple. Or so we think, out of fear again I guess. Fear of the unknown which is so stupid yet totally understandable. I wish there was something you could get high on enough to forget the fear, maybe gulp down a barrel of beer? :)
Another thing I have been experiencing is this constant neverending need of man to be entertained. Why can't we sit idle? Why do we have to be in the state of enjoyment? It's the middle of the night, and after I am done with this I am going to things on my phone like check my facebook then my youtube and then google things like the hindi word for 'transcendental' and then if sleep is still far away, will make music with the nimble movements of my fingers against the bedside wood and then listen to a podcast or a song, then sit up and burp for a few seconds, then be fascinated with the building cats for five minutes, sit on the pot with the newspaper, or in the dark because I am afraid of moths that have on two occasions started to fly around randomly from nowhere as soon as I put the toilet light on... and then play Mowgli on my phone for half an hour and then... Okay maybe I should just meditate or count back from 1000, I read that tip online and it's worked a couple of times, I lose track around 600 and fade out. That ought to fix up the various glitches embedded in my brain. For the night. Isn't it so cool how you switch off for hours on end, unresponsive, and unconscious in world full of unexpected weird and wonderful dreams! :)
My idea for losing touch with 'reality' would be to get lost in a world full of lucid dreams and not even feel displaced or lost, but feel instead, a sense of complete belonging. I have in my life had only one lucid dream. Maybe tonight's my lucky night! :)
I still love Phil from Modern Family. I need to find myself some Phil in this world. I need Philly time. Maybe I should move to Philippines. Nah. Tobago still is looking very promising.
Experiences form a mind. Each person is defined by their experience, good or bad. A great mind directly correlates to great experiences. Each experience good or bad, constitutes each part of your beliefs. You believe what you see, what you're told, what you feel. But these are all obvious statements. As usual, I have a string of questions to complicate the simplicity of this fact, like every other common knowledge -- which is basically what we have led ourselves to believe is true, and thus have created facts. We see the ground and say it's the ground. We've forged an identity for this thing that looks kind of groundy and so we call it the ground. What makes the ground groundy we know is by it's characteristics. You name a white dog snowy, for example. But again I am drifting from my string of questions.
Experiences; they ought to teach you something that forms part of things you build faith in or lose faith in. It formulates and shapes the way you think.
Questions:
What if a bad experience, instead of lending good judgement, screws it up even more, so that you are forced to believe in untruths so passionately that it seems impossible for you to ever revert to yourself before that experience?
Is believing in the wrong that was the effect of that experience merely a state of fake wisdom, a false illusion that you are supposed to eventually grow out of and become a little more mature?
I hate that word, maturity. It signifies a state of conformity to normalcy; normalcy that is not even true, normalcy that is another fallacy created by everyone to maintain sanity. If we could do what we wanted whenever we wanted, if there was no lying, no wrongdoing, the world as we know it would fall apart. Truth is another fallacy which is confounding, because the word itself is so reminiscent of all that is honest and sincere. We need the lying, without lies nothing could exist. We tell ourselves things, lies, every second of the day. It's all a lie, what we see what we feel what we KNOW. What we know to be true isn't true for sure. The word know means you are told something or you have convinced yourself something. You can't just know anything. That's bullshit. If you give birth to a child and leave him to live alone. The trees the rivers the mountains aren't gonna take care of him. He'll die in 2 days. Well unless he's Mowgli.
Okay again, going back to the maturity topic. I hate having to mature. We tell ourselves it's the proper course, to "grow up", but question(s), where is the growing up when all we are learning to do is from what we see others do and what these 'others' tell us is the mature thing to do? Who told them how to be mature? Vedic scriptures, God books, self help books written by know-it-all life gurus? Shouldn't growing up come from doing things never been done? Rising, being different. I wonder what it feels like to be insane. Maybe that's something worth inspiring to be. Why strive for normalcy? Why be like everybody else? Why not aspire to know the unknown? Why, because of the sick undefeated ability of fear. It seeps inside and messes up everything. Everything we do is out of fear. We're doing so much, we become so mechanical about the doing of things, that the fear is minimized in the background and you never feel it or take notice of it anymore/ever. The truth is, we lie out of fear. Whatever we know, we have made ourselves know for fear of not knowing anything and going mad. But we don't know still, why going mad is such a bad thing. It could be the most liberating thing in the world.
It could be the most natural, the most simple thing in the world.
But our reasoning ability will never allow man to live simple. Or so we think, out of fear again I guess. Fear of the unknown which is so stupid yet totally understandable. I wish there was something you could get high on enough to forget the fear, maybe gulp down a barrel of beer? :)
Another thing I have been experiencing is this constant neverending need of man to be entertained. Why can't we sit idle? Why do we have to be in the state of enjoyment? It's the middle of the night, and after I am done with this I am going to things on my phone like check my facebook then my youtube and then google things like the hindi word for 'transcendental' and then if sleep is still far away, will make music with the nimble movements of my fingers against the bedside wood and then listen to a podcast or a song, then sit up and burp for a few seconds, then be fascinated with the building cats for five minutes, sit on the pot with the newspaper, or in the dark because I am afraid of moths that have on two occasions started to fly around randomly from nowhere as soon as I put the toilet light on... and then play Mowgli on my phone for half an hour and then... Okay maybe I should just meditate or count back from 1000, I read that tip online and it's worked a couple of times, I lose track around 600 and fade out. That ought to fix up the various glitches embedded in my brain. For the night. Isn't it so cool how you switch off for hours on end, unresponsive, and unconscious in world full of unexpected weird and wonderful dreams! :)
My idea for losing touch with 'reality' would be to get lost in a world full of lucid dreams and not even feel displaced or lost, but feel instead, a sense of complete belonging. I have in my life had only one lucid dream. Maybe tonight's my lucky night! :)
I still love Phil from Modern Family. I need to find myself some Phil in this world. I need Philly time. Maybe I should move to Philippines. Nah. Tobago still is looking very promising.
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