The Feminine

Posted by Vikram Sihag On Jun 1, 2013 0 comments


My idea of feminism is self-determination, and it's very open-ended: every woman has the right to become herself, and do whatever she needs to do.
                                                          Ani DiFranco
I am  a woman and I love being evil,
for you that would be akin to saying that god rapes humans.
Yet why can't I live just like a human?
my identity is not bound to my genitals,
why if I want to enjoy life and want to live it my way,
you deem me corrupted and mark me a whore?
You made my whole life an exercise of justification,
for I am just a mother and a mother can do no wrong.
why if I ain't a mother can't I be the ideal one?
you can bury your emasculated idealism deep with your idols,
I want to live my life for myself and not for your sermonic texts.
For some even my existence is a vice,
impotent prophets and monks clubbing me with wine.
Those who find controlling the liquid in a bottle an ordeal,
how dream they of controlling a human and that too a woman?
Who are you to chain and tame me like animals?
I am free to serve my existence the way I want to,
and for that I don't need your certification and verification.
I don't need your devotion your supplication ,
nor your decree to procreate just creation.
If I can create why can't I enjoy what I create?
If I can write verses of life on the sands of time,
who are you to stop me from rubbing them out on momentary whim?
Nor do I need your metaphors of moons and roses,
chaining me in corsets of hunger for your poems and proses.
Who gave you the right to appreciate me in the form you want me to?
You'll have to learn to see my beauty the way I want you to.
You can keep your divinity and I will keep my mortality.
 


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Hollow

Posted by Vikram Sihag On Oct 19, 2012 0 comments



Humans survive on the opium of hope.
                                                             -Napster

And now when she’s not here and all seems hollow,
I dwell upon the question of the breaths that we borrow,
Of all the things that do happen,
Of all the drops that our spirits dampen.
What lies within and what lies without?
Is the sorrow in our heart or is it all around?
Aren’t all the complexities present to hide the void simple?
Inspite of all we do isn’t death more nimble?
Doesn’t all the ruckus just try to hide the silence of doom?
Even though there are so many present am I not alone in this big dark room?
All around my carcass lie the bodies with stench of lies,
They are just like me the devils with mouth full of flies,
Like ants building hills of sand which will wash away in the rains of their urine,
However hard you try to scratch this floor eternal will stay pristine.
So now I open my butelka of country wine,
Here is to all questions the answer most fine,
I don’t write for textbooks so this verse can’t misguide,
I fall back and let it flow for it’s in vain that we all fight.
 
I drink to stay sane in this world of insanity. 


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The Little Rogue Soldier

Posted by Vikram Sihag On Apr 4, 2012 1 comments

In Asia there are a billion people who are tired of the world as it is; they live such terrible bondage that they have nothing to lose but their chains.... Less than a thousand years ago Europe lived this way; then Europe revolted... The people of Asia are going through the same process- Theodore H. White

Vision all blurry ears filled with blast,
the little rogue soldier lay breathing his last,
that wasn't the pity though that wasn't the worst,
his body will be sought by the hounds their teeth will be all he will get as this cost,
little rogue soldier who fought but won't be a martyr,
though his mother may keep on weeping,
though from his wive's milkless breasts hunger may keep dripping,
though he may have lived and fought and sought through pain,
his death will still be counted as in vain.

When he was a kid he used to go a learning,
his body in the classroom his heart for home yearning,
he was taught about the monk who left all,
yet by sacrificing everything he won them all,
who told that we were one without barriers,
Hindus and Muslims the priests and the ragpickers,
who hadn't used a sword and yet had cut the deepest,
who had reached the peak when the climb was the steepest,
he was taught of what allegiances we had sworn,
how out of the womb of tyranny child of democracy had been born,
land of the tiller and rule of the ruled.

But then he was shoved into the world to realize that he had been fooled,
and all his passion for nation into hatred got cooled,
his land wasn't his own to either sow or reap,
no one chose to listen when he had no choice but to weep,
they were his people the nation it's system his own,
yet for all of them he was a wayfarer unknown,
he was an outcast and alien in his own land,
the air he breathed was heavy by befouled water and sand.

He lay bleeding and weeping on the land to which he was a traitor,
against his own motherland they said he was an instigator,
when they didn't listen to his cries and screams for support and aid,
yet their dead ears listened when he with shots had them laid,
the nation, people, government bear for him just gloom and doom,
yet they never understood why he chose death in a land where flowers of life bloom.

At some distance from him lay another,
his enemy inspite of being born a brother,
some will shun the rogue some will shun the sentry of order,
why they keep fighting and dying that no one seems to bother,
after all they will just discuss and debate,
over chips and coffees the events they will relate,
some shoddy journalist may yet reap benefit from both,
few parialmentarians may swear or take oath.

In the end it will all get well again,
till some rogue kills or is killed again.







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Parousia

Posted by Vikram Sihag On Mar 28, 2012 0 comments

"He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end. ... We look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come.Amen."- Nicene Creed

It feels good to be back! After taking a month long break from blogging and dishing out new and sometimes outrageous ideas i am back again. This vacation was required so as to dwell once again into realms of my conscious and sub-conscious which had suffered a bit due to continuous interaction with those around me. Sometimes you just need some time out in order to communicate with the vital facet within which is in reality the generator of all the visions and perceptions that we see without. During this one month i have tried to get my act better than ever before and hopefully in the days to come my readers will be rewarded by something even better than what i have attempted ever before. This was just supposed to be an announcement of the second coming and therefore it should not be lengthened to a second introduction.
Adios


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The water that rivers lost

Posted by Vikram Sihag On Feb 27, 2012 0 comments


In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.
-Robert frost

He sat with his face buried between his knees, exactly at the same spot where he had sat with his father, spent and tired after a long long journey through realms and distances. His dad had decided that he needed to know what beats in that small boxlike chamber beneath his bed , when even after repeated admonishments not to repeat his act he had masturbrated causing a tsunami in one of the seas that lay in that one beloved planet of his dad-earth. They had traveled a lot that day, seen empires being built, new things being created, seen love and war, seen how his father threw random things from his pocket and was amused at how those creatures called men cried out in ecstasy whenever they found any of those- much like he used to when his mother hid something edible under his pillow for him to find in the morning. He had seen people lose things and celebrate when they were found in a different era different situation as if those were new. He had seen them kill and be killed. Finally, they had sat at that place which his father had said was dear to him. It was the very place that someone who was called his own father's son by men was hung out to dry in the light of that orb he had in his room which these people called son. Mom always said that the man who had to undergo such a harsh treatment at the hands of his own brethren was father's illegitimate son. " He must have been thinking about that Mary when he was penetrating me! How else can one be born without the shag?" She always loathed that bastard son of his father, so much that when he had come after his death in this world to visit their place and live in the other comparatively bigger enclosure called heaven where one was literally a member of their own family, she had henpecked dad so much that he was forced to send his unacknowledged boy back to this small oval hearth of a box again. Dad has asked him then about the lesson he had learnt that day. Uncomfortably shifting and nervously drawing patterns in the sand below his feet he had replied,"they hold on. They need a point, a center, a beginning, a base towards which they may gravitate. Once they think they have found it, they cling to it and try to annihilate any threat to their grip." Dad had smiled and picked him up in his arms, he knew how to observe.
Dad was just like his own masterpieces. His differences with his father had grown in proportion to his age. Father was obsessed with these creatures and was never ready to free them from the pins by which he had pinned them. He considered himself a shepherd and in no case was he ready to let the lambs grow into lions. Both had suffered but father still didn't understand until the rage in him grew into blind fury and he had pierced his own father's heart with a blade which was smelted out in that big furnace in their backyard which humans called hell. He had thrown that ball into that very blood, so that all may change and its inhabitants may break free of those ancient chains put on them by his father.
Five years had elapsed since then, five tumultuous years during which he as well as all that his father had built had taken a nosedive. Man was not free, he was in a mess. Without the rings to hang the rope of his life through and without the roof to which the roof to which that ring was connected, he was lost. The fire in hell without being fanned had almost extinguished, the light shining in heaven had gone out and he, the one responsible for maintaining all was confused himself. It was as if he too needed an axis around which to rotate. He who detested them more than anything else was in fear of the guilt associated with his impending failure. Maybe he could follow suite of his brother and end it all. Better still, he could just claim ignorance from all that was imminent. Rubbing the furrows in his forehead he looked upwards. A small bird was bringing twigs from its old shattered nest lying beneath the weight of a broken branch and making a new one on another branch.
Why be concerned with all that will happen the next day? Resting for the night was all that mattered, not the branch that lay broken or the new one or the shelter being made. Teacher came in all sizes , he mused as he got up, dusted his ass and moved on.


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The chains that bind us

Posted by Vikram Sihag On Feb 21, 2012 2 comments


The biggest problem with us is that we want red apples in one basket and yellow ones in another. If nature behaved in discrete quanta it would have grown them in baskets itself.

-Napster
Long long ago, when i still used to study for the tests next day and when mom's cookie jar was still out of my reach, i read a poem- The Seven Stages. It was not an independent poem but an extract from one of those stinkingly famous dramas penned by Shakespeare. It told one about what drives a man from cradle to grave, the journey broken into pieces and dealt with. Indirectly, it also tells one about the real factors that pull strings of life of a human being. In the same year i read about Gautam Buddha- the enlightened one. He taught the world how to live in harmony with those strings. How one could remain at peace with himself and still not spread any dischord in that social fabric. With the passage of time and with the horizons whereto my gaze reached being pushed further, it became increasingly apparent that there were far more fences than the ground left free to graze upon. Religion, history, science, politics, literature, etc. etc. all had walls which you were not supposed to jump upon and cross.
Dad taught me how to read using comic books as his tool. Catchy, innovative, exciting and full of loads of characters based on crazy conceptions, they were a delight to read and enjoy. These alongwith those small moral science storybooks and novelists like Blyton and Kipling form the mental foundations of the forerunners of future. Even then the strings are present just below the surface. The Spiderman in those books can tie anyone with webs, Aladdin of those fairytales can rub a Genie out of a lamp, but even they are not free of the moralistic strings of good and bad, the shoulds and shouldn'ts. They may defy gravity but they cannot defy the pull of patriotism or some other such essentially engineered notion.
When you read your first science or history lesson even those daydreams are snatched from you. You are told that Superman cannot fly because if he did, he will be in violation of something that was discovered and analyzed when an apple fell on the head of a sleeping genius (or was it squatting?) and we are expected to keep that in mind. History tells us that Adolf Hitler was the embodiment of Satan himself and all the western nations were good samaritans. When we grow up we learn about the factors that culminated in the rise of Hitler in Germany or Faraday tells us that nothing is wonderful provided that, and here comes the catch- it is not inconsistent with the laws of nature.You can run as fast as you want to, but there has to be a track. Outside the track, there is darkness. Infinity is there, but it is too big for the human minds, so don't consider it. Religion, nation, race and sex are the big ropes to bind men which are based upon contentions that sound so funny you can almost laugh at them if only the fog wasn't there. Christ soothed millions, Muhammad enlightened a lot and Mahavira helped many understand a set of values. What values? Who gave them? Revealed from above says who? Someone who is claimed as a son of the creator above us ( above which sphere?) or who brings messages directly from him. Why he only? Why no one else? Why is he the last messenger? Do we have nothing left to learn? Themis the blindfolded lady of justice left us as the earth was not fit for her Greeks say. Was the barbaric world before she left just? If questions and possibilities are endless how can one limit the answers? They understood and preached values which society worked upon, they didn't listen to the voice or creator, they listened to the command which was necessary to keep the sheep inside the grazing land and not stray into the wilderness beyond. The other ones in the beginning of this passage were also created so as to negate the threat to social order. How can one land once part of another such land in the past or woven out of scraps and patches which are purely transitory claim the devotion and servitude of those responsible for chalking out the lines or the lines themselves( Oh! The solemn Mother India chants)? Rubbing and making new ones or staying without them is difficult for the weak ones in the pack, so everyone has to stay in them or perish. Whatever looks alike must stay punched together and should behave in like fashion. No doubt they hate homosexuals so much! What is law but the rein to keep the free horses in control of those who ride them. How can they decide what i can and cannot do even before i was born? They want us to be like those hyenas who feed upon their very own kin if they as much as stray out of the pack or want to stay out of it altogether.
The philosophers and thinkers are who think about these generalized planes, but even their ideas and musings are taken as yardsticks and still new knots are wound out of them to hold us tight. What would Marx have thought had he seen how dogmatic those who claim to understand and follow him have become! That they are not ready to even look at all that lies around them as he did.
The come the rebels. Those who say," I don't care!" or "look at yourself before you teach others!" Are they really free? The ones who are out of those shackles put upon men by men. No, they are not! When they blame others, tell them that they are wrong or that they don't care for norms, it actually shows the longing that they have to confirm. They are those who are not able to confirm, rather than those who don't want to. They are in a niche which is even below the ones who are bound. They are the ones for whom the grapes are sour.
The true unstrung one is he who realizes that there are no such concepts as problems and solutions. That whatever the seeming action and reaction is, it is due ti his inner self only. That he himself is responsible for the stirrings in the ether around him and whatever the stirrings are, they are also as true as the calm that follows. The one who observes all but is still not affected in any way. One who understands this is free, but it is definitely not an easy nut to crack. If i would have cracked it myself, i wouldn't have even bothered to write this piece. But atleast by working on it you can think something that is in its true sense what we call out of the box thinking.

ps.-The Hannibals and Bonds of cinema and all such stuff are self understood in the paragraph about those comic books. Napster is my own pseudonoun which i used in a site where i gave that statement first


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Shiva- celebrating the spirit of individuality

Posted by Vikram Sihag On Feb 20, 2012 0 comments


शिव षडक्षर स्तोत्रम् - ॐकारं बिन्दु संयुक्तं
Salutations to that Shiva who resides as Omkara in the Spiritual Heart Center and on whom the Yogis constantly meditate -Shiva Shadakshara Stotam


So it is that day of the year again. The day when the most revered and feared god of the Hindus is worshiped. When snakes drink milk and people drink what according to some is poison. For me it always held a special place in the scheme of things when I was a kid. The fair, the toys, snakecharmers and loads of colors. I sincerely believed then that snakes drink milk just as I believed that they could hear the pipe being played and just as I believed that the black stone structure symbolized the head of the deity being prayed upon. Now I know that it is an act of cruelty upon them to make them drink it, that the charmers trick is based upon the movement of the organ in his hand and the thumping of his feet and that it is a sacless penis stuck deep in a vagina.
Over the years I turned into an ideotheist i.e one who likes the ideals and values enshrined in various religions but who detests the dogmas, blind faith and those who use them as tools to induce mass frenzy and exercise control. Shiva is the symbol of the ultimate epitomization of the goal every individual should strive for. He is the end product of the race of evolution and thus is depicted at the last of the trinity, there is none after him, he is the end all and be all. The fact that he lives a solitary life away from the society shows that what our developments should focus at- the renunciation of that necessary evil known as society to live in the ideal state of individual self sufficiency. He stays in a state of trance giving the inference that the world lies within and not without. He stays in a state of self contentment meditating all alone, yet knows all and can provide all. This is a revelation of the fact that all the answers to our questions, all that we require to quench the thirst lies within us only. His childlike innocence in spite of the fact that he knows all tells us that such a being is not effected or influenced by the illusions and delusions around him. The ash on his body show an utter disdain for the fake ornamentation which is considered a prerequisite for this artificial society of ours. The snakes around him explain that such a person is not troubled even by the grip of certain death around him. His damru(small two headed drum) emanates the music of such a soul resonating with the rhythm of this universe. His lingam ( I got to know that both the organs are infact his only, the male organ growing out of the feminine one a hermaphrodite!) and his ardhnarishvar swaroop inform us that in order to be such a complete being you need to have the traits and skills possessed by both the genders and also that when you reach such a state even sexual demarkation disappears and you rise beyond it in your knowledge and understanding. His lack of interest in even copulation ( forcing Parvati to resort to pangenesis or to take the services of that primitive sex specialist Kamdev) elucidates the fact that when we reach this stage the normal human interests and instincts hold no attraction for us. The third eye and the dance of destruction can be interpreted as to what happens to the kaledioscopic mirage of perceptions existing all around us when we exist upon such a plane- it burns at our gaze that is we understand the nothingness and the truth that all that is around is just a reflection of what goes on inside. Even the Bhaang ( Cannabis Sativa/ Indian hemp) that he partakes makes all that lies around us dance and fade when we stare right through it.
He is the only truth which will remain when societies will crumble and nations will fall, when barriers of our limitations will fall and all the bridges of our intelligence and knowledge will combine. The real anarchist, the superhuman of tomorrow. He is what lies within us and that is what the opening mantra means.

ps:- Here are two songs for the day that I immensely enjoy, hope you will too-


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