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.