My Experiments With Sadoism

In a way that seems to be circumstantially destined, here I am again, on another wednesday midnight, brushing the cobwebs off  from the manuscripts of the heart's lair. Only this time, there is no moon, only this time, the night's as morbid and moonless as before some bloke had said "Let there be light...".

not that i'm complaining though. I'm not really a moon person. Personally, i believe that the night brings forth infinitely more prospects moonless than when all glittery and romantically candle lit.A sinister lust for all things ominous sends a strange sear through the carnal side of awareness. I, for one, have always wondered if anyone would care at all if one were to roam the streets naked under a sub-zero moonless haze. But let's delve into the obviously repulsive list of my heart's cravings some other time, for we may find enough gunk to fill volumes there. Instead let's drench in the topic at hand.

first of all, let me clear up one point for some already drooling perverts. These musings are not a dig into the fairly ominous shades of masochistic love making, though the psychology involved may be somewhat similar. what I'm talking about is the one basic greed man has lusted over all these years:Power, and the lineage of its abuse.

I'm in second year at college, and ragging is a public offence, incriminable under law, and bhu has a ragging free campus. The only fair response I can permit myself to, is "yeah right!!!". Midway through this ragging "season", I've come to realise one ironically amusing fact. the worst, or rather, most depricating form of ragging is actually practised by those chappies who've never actually had any first hand experience of having been ragged at all!!! Wish I could take names here, but biased by an inherent sense of camaraderie, I choose to refrain from it. These are the people who chose, rather, to take the sidelines and watch, to bathe in how it feels to have complete power over an individual, and to allow themselves  to decay under its lust. Then, at the faintest flicker of an oppurtunity they tend to seize the moment and unravel their most aching desires for control. The sight is so unnaturally irritable sometimes, that its not even funny when it occurs to you that idiot hurling abuses at the whimpering kid in front had actually cried for hours when called a motherfucker for the first time!!! But there is a simple explanation to this....

the loser who got a coke bottle shoved up his arse just has to burn a cigerette hole through the kid's. Only then will his gurgitating ego be satiated. Frankly, if someone oathed to protest understands this fact and is calling for a complete ban on ragging citing the aforementioned breed of perverts as the cause, then i'm all for it. Ban the damn thing once and for all.

But one fact needs to be understood clearly.one cannot incriminate everyone who has ever interacted with a junior, just for the heck of the law. Afterall, we live in a country where some of the constitutional acts were the best p.js ever invented by mankind(try, for example, the marriage and divorce acts)!!! The difference between the good guys and the perverts manifests itself in but one word. And i believe that that one word teaches us more than what the four years put together ever can.Professionalism.The art of being unemotional. The science of knowing when to stop. But this is where the argument crumbles, for this world is void of idealities. There is that twilight zone between night and day.nothing is black or white.its grey that covers most of the map. And here raises its ugly head, Lucifer's lasso, and "come into my parlour" says the spider to the fly....No man can be given absolute unquestionable power over any individual, because the bible got one thing right for sure, "they know not what they do".

Hordes of men, like Hitler and Mugabe, throughout history have proven to us one thing. Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. The very reason why society was created in the first place was to endow upon man such responsibilities and obligations which would suffice to keep his true potential for horrendous acts under check. A corset woven to refrain our heart's muck from gushing out upon us.  Now don't get me rubbing you the wrong way. i'm all for the cause of liberation and free breathing. But consider a world without any rules or regulations of any kind, ethical, social or religious. Every man a country unto himself. we'd have a world war in every house.

Every code of the system is like a string, sewn through the fabric of society, keeping it intact, preventing us from raping ourselves. A world without strings, however, is chaos. One pluck and the ensemble would fall off like a roman toga, revealing us in all our nakedness. 

Corns vs. Corn Flakes.....

like my dear friend tazz, i too am bound to agree that, well, i have been a trifle late in joining this bandwagon of expressionists hellbent on gettin their 15 minutes.it seems that bloke andy warhol was onto something, eh?

i guess i've arrived at more than my share of being fashionablly late, so much so that the first bloggers might well be resting in dried graves by now.but no matter my dears, no matter.if its meant to happen, it will. so here we are, this moonlit wednesday midnight, writing off the memoirs of one of the many fictitious characters that is yours truly.

now, as i commence, i'm going to deal wid one of the very few things i consider my area of expertise....people.not a very streamlined topic, i agree, but i assure you every array of this juggernautical matrix that is society is just as perplexingly hilarious as the other.consider, for example, the legend of the metrosexual man, and the oft recounted tales of his gruesome confrontations with another modern day myth, the herculean machosexual man.if you ask me, the only kind of man i'd prefer to be is good old neanderthal.back then all you had to do was churn out the loudest "ugh!!!" n you had the babe of the tribe sweating in her loins.today you need wintergreen oil for that...but that comes at a later stage.for now let's call it the fun part, though i assure you, it is almost as much fun as amateur wrestling, owing to the vastly imaginative pornography that is on display today.i think those guys might just have hit upon a modern day variant of meditative yoga!

but more on that later. let us for now attend to the misadventure that is the word itself, the measure of whose majestic proportions may only truly occur to us by its own pronounciation.compared to this stratum of the pie, the fun part may truly be that! when this god thingy supposedly created man, he must have been one proud bloke, what with the powers of deduction and decision and all those sorts of things that he'd thrown into the batter, like sugar, spice and everything nice.but what must really have sweetened the professor's cookie would have been the the results emanating from the accidental addition of chemical x to the concoction, in this case, love. now, by jove, when i say accidental, i do mean it! why else would a smart chappy like him hand over those intricate wisdoms of compassion and togetherness to a circus of semi intelligent beings whose most basic instinct yet remains 'me, my and myself'? the very notion of the flawlesness of this creator dude finds itself at one smug singularity in but one question. why, dear lord, couldn't you get us right? but what's done is done.let's not blame the bloke too much for such trifles. overall, we might say, he made a pretty neat job of it all.

then, a few millenia of millenia later there came such abominable entities as archies and and guccies . now it turned out these guys had extracted this mysterious chemical x from some unsuspecting guinea pigs and through shrewd market research managed to deduce that this stuff was more addictive than coke, and also legally saleable thanks to thomas jefferson professing every man's right to the pursuit of happiness in the american declaration of independence...people just couldn't have enough it.and thus, love found its way not only onto the card shelves and apparel aisles of your next door mall, but also quite ingeniously disguised in practically every saleable commodity on the planet.everyone's selling a bit of love. whenceforth was created a grevious rift in the otherwise atomic brotherhood that is the maleness of our species.now don't get me wrong, darwin wasn't off his rockers.when it comes to the question of mate and entity, man has been like any other primate. survival of the fittest has always been nature's ultimately prevailing law.but blossoming amongst all that competition was a fragrant essence of camraderie that once enveloped the silly creature that is homo erectus and kept his slightly parasitic instincts at bay.this has however been lost to the sordid odour of ridiculously expensive eu de parfums or the steroid infested stench of perspiration.

now the thing is man's basic nature hasn't really changed from the good old days when tails were quite in fashion and kids were scolded for cutting their nails.being a social being, he has always needed love.his fascination with it has however taken entirely new meanings, almost flirting with the edges of eccentricity sometimes even flirting with the justification of his phyllic nomenclature of homo(sexually) erect-us!!cupid's commercial viability has ensured that almost every nickel and dime of our sorry existence is spent in the quest for this utterly fascinating dope .it seems all our lives we endeavour to own something we do not want with money we do not have for people we do not need.