Dial I for India

I couldn’t sleep

My mind

Hyper jacked

Seeing

India

Everyone struggling to stand up

Being ground down

By forces bigger than they can control

It seems

In one corner folks

We have the politicians

A sorrier breed you will not see

All corrupt. All greedy.

All not caring

about the one thing

they are supposed

to care about: India

In the next corner

We have the industrialists

And their Creative Accountants

Raping and plundering

In the third corner

We have the government babus

Lining their pockets

With the dross and dregs

Of inefficiency and incompetence

And last but not least

In the fourth corner

We have the religious cartel

That ancient band of misfits

Dressing up in holiness

Peddling authority

Using information asymmetry

To fill their coffers

Christians. Hindus. Muslims.

All the fuckin same

Priests.

Locking us out of the truth

Locking the gate to heaven

Neither do they enter

Nor do they allow those who would

A more evil bunch of bastards

You will not meet

Jesus wept.

Now I understand why.

And from deep within my heart

I can hear this rabid, hatred

Tearing out in a scream:

“My India, you motherfuckers!”

I stumbled and fell

Pounding my clenched fists

Into the sand

Dry empty sobs

The heat of the sun

Ripping into my mind

Leaving everything desert dry

I was too busy crying

To notice

The shadow which fell

Dark side of the sun

Come a calling

I couldn’t look up

Shitting bricks as they say

It asked me pleasantly

Quit your bitching yet?

I burped up some more hate

No, I snarled, I’ll see them withered to the ground first

It laughed

A musical tone that echoed across the dead veld

Shedding dew drops

Plants flowering where the dew kissed the ground

Relax da, it said

You are less than a 100 years old

The bones of Buddha are part of your dust

The wisdom of Vikramaditya flows in your rivers

The strength of Ashoka runs through your veins

You think some pissant soldiers of destitution

Can take away our pride?

And it played out before me

How it was all going to turn out

My breath caught in my throat

Shining Eyes brimmed

And thankfully,

Finally

Finally

I could cry

Real tears

Real joy

Real sorrow

Argue for your limitations, and sure enough, they're yours.

Richard Bach from the book Illusions

Clarity of Dream

I stood at the edge of the lake, the waves a tiny ripple lapping against my boots.  I had five stones in my hand.  Smooth, round, the rough jagged spiky edges worn down by eons of water rushing over them.  I tossed them lightly in my hand, the clatter of the hard surfaces against each other, a pleasant accompaniment to the absolute stillness of birds chirping, water striking shore with a low gentle plop.  On the far side, the sun had just about peeked over the  horizon’s edge.  I waited, my thoughts empty of commentary, a smile rising from within. 

This is where its at, I thought, briefly.  Trying to limit my thoughts, to minimal functional existence.  Drinking in the scenery.  Direct sight.  You are part of the beauty.  You are part of the light.  You are part of the darkness.  Not as a separate individual fitting into a cosmic jigsaw.  No fucking crap of interconnectedness.  You are here.  Borderless.  Lawless.  United.  One.  You are. 

But these are just words.  And every word, every description, is a filter.  An addition to the blindness we all live in… 

There was a tear against the fabric of my universe.  Somebody trying to interject.  Trying to provide an alternate point of view.  Let’s discuss this, the voice said.  There is more than one way to skin a cat.  A reasoned calculated motivated justified point of view.  All bent over with purpose.  Shouldering the weight of the world.  Atlas-fucking-shrugged.  Every joy driven by motivation.  Eked out of the dry dust bowl of desire.  Pride, jealousy, hate, and even love.  Loaded.  Trigger happy.  Letting it rip.  This is the purpose of life.  He said.  This.  Pointing to the buildings reaching for the skyline.  The machines diving into the earth. His eyes, round saucers of deepest sincerity.  A Missionary of Reason out to save the lost.   And words, he said in hushed reverence, words are the holiest of them all.  Separates us from the beasts.  Gives shape to what we sculpt.  Out of thin air.  The thrill of wonderment that ran through him was almost orgasmic. 

A momentary shudder of revulsion shot through me.  A few years ago I would have reacted differently.  I would have cackled in derision and reached for a knife.  My evil bean erupting in pure hate.  Or, depending on which edge of the pendulum of perspective I was at,  I would have keeled over. 

Yas Sah Mastah Sah, I would have droooled and dribbled, stumbling outta my Uncle Tom’s Cabin at the edge of rationality.  I would have sucked in the spittle from the side, sprang up, cheery summer sunshine, snapped a hot salute, kissed my capitalist and communist comrades, hugged my hindu-muslim-sikh-christian-buddhist friends, knotted my tie, and joined the 8 am office rush. 

But my sucking up days were over as were my killing days.  You can’t kill.  They just keep coming back worse than ever.  Even worse, you can’t suck up.  Even if its just for camouflage.  Mama Wisdom, you can hear her heartbreak at every street corner.  Besides, they’ve given orders: Flush out the fakers.  Don’t want anything but bonafide believers to man the system.   Believe or be excommunicated is the new message.  And nobody wants to be lonely.

I sighed.  Ancient history. 

I told the visitor, It’s over.  Gently prised my thoughts loose.  Watched them fly away, free, into the horizon.  Freedom.  The smell is delicious. 

I reached for my Trowel of Separation.  To repair the breach.  The peacableness of my universe required only one.  Me.  He began to shudder, cold turkey like, fading away, the gravitational tug of the cosmos, dismembering his theories.  And I forced myself to recall.  With all the clarity of dream.  Compassion hit me where it hurts the most, almost breaking me in two.  Loneliness is beautiful.  Especially when its shared.  She whispered.   

Ha.  Walked straight into that one now did we.  Whaddya call it?  Contradictions making out cozier than kissing cousins? Aldous Huxley called it life.  That’s a good enough definition don’t you think? 

Fresh Sun Dried Longings

Everyday before sunrise
You draw a direction In the sands
Of your longing
Heartbeat dead and cold
The echo of an ancient drumbeat
Still coursing through your veins

Yonder shines morning star
The good book reminds
A gentle tug from across
The seas of emptiness
It is easy
To forget
To forgive
And remember
Revenge
That dull aching throb
Drumming its own rhythm
Under the skin of your temple

A thousand insults
A million jabs
Two billion errors
A trillion atrocities

Same sky
Same sun
Everyone doing the hamster wheel show
You see the most
So you may hate the most?
Are angry the most?
Are the most insulting?
Are the most unforgiving?

Everyday before sunrise
You draw a direction In the sands
All but forgotten
When the heat of day
Hits your stride
Withers your determination
Evaporates your resolve
Mocks your pride
Leaving you clutching
The threadbare
Remains of the outline
An act in many comedies

What will you do now?
Where will you fly now?
What chains will you break now?
It's over but it aint
You can still make it or break it
You know that don't you?

Burning Planet

Planetary Update: FC 12009 Executive Summary - Shikasta (The Shammat Logs)

::Standard Encryption::Council-of-Colonies-Sub-Committee-Shikastan-Situation::Start::

Greetings!

Great and glorious Zarl and exalted members of the Shikastan Situation sub-committee.

Greetings, in the name of Shammat! Magnificient, All Powerful, Omnipresent.  May your glory increase. 

Lords and Rulers of the coming Galactic Empire, it gives me immense pleasure to bring you the latest news from our pet project: Shikasta.

Archivists Note: This report is a executive highlight issued once every solar cycle (Shikastan).  A full report is presented every 100 cycles and a detailed analysis and forecast conducted every 300 cycles.  For those seeking the full report refer to Section ZA23. 

It may also be noted that this archivist thinks that this entire system of filing unread reports which is a blatant copy of Canopean methods if I ever saw one, is a fucking waste of time.  I make this assertion in the full confidence that this report will never ever be referenced and that Zarl and the Sub committee crew for monitoring Shikasta are a bunch of spineless pleasure seeking monkeys who need to be quartered and hung by their balls for ignoring the true treasure that is Shikasta.

Re: Note above.  The Archivist who generated this note now lives on penal colony 83/ZZ/K…in extremely regrettable circumstances….  We have preserved this note as a warning to other idealists who may crop up from time to time and who would like to make a case about the proper exploitation of a planet. 

Our plans for the Feast of the Ascent are coming along well.  As requested by the council elders we will be holding the feast in the Indian sub-continent.  Virulent Hate, Self-Righteousness, and Apathy are being fed in equal measure.  Salishon-84b in so far as it is numbs the conscience’ response mechanism is largely effective.  However, I would caution it’s addition to the Planetary Controls list without further testing.  There is a small but statistically significant percentage of subjects who exhibit sudden reversals.  Due to our superior capabilities in monitoring and tracking we have neutralized these subjects before they themselves realized what they were thinking.  A few of the specially interesting cases we are studying in greater depth.  As usual these subjects are housed in the mental health prisons.  Tests include proding them into violence and destruction – both self and others, extreme depression, and wild exhilaration.  A proper analysis of the tests is still awaited and will be forwarded to you as soon as it is ready.

Our control of the priestly classes across all ideologies and religions is almost complete.  Our ‘religious superiority’ indoctrination among a rabid minority within the majority Hindus will reach fruition in 10-30 cycles.  As you know the priestly class were the initial receivers of Canopean instructions.  I can now say with complete confidence that no priest in any religion, ideology, or thought system can be appointed without my personal approval.  I will continue to maintain this vigil till at least the period of the feast and longer if needed. 

In preparation for the feast, you will be pleased to know that large areas of the population have been earmarked for systematic decimation.  The reception chambers where you can bath and bask in the vapors of all that suffering are almost ready.  I can barely contain my excitement at the thought of all that hot blood steaming and rising to enrich our pleasure.  We hope to deliver for this Feast anywhere from 1 million to 10 million souls without destabilizing our governance controls.  I will be able to offer you firm dates to chose from within the next 3 cycles.

Councilman Jerokar had expressed concern that such a large extermination exercise may fuel unrest and resistance among the larger population.  I would like to assure the councilman that 10 million souls barely scratch 1% of the subcontinent’s population.  They are an apathetic bunch who eagerly suck on Salishon-84b like a youngling at its mother’s teat.  A minority will be in vociferous opposition but we will be able to contain their outburst and divert any real responses into ineffective ranting and trashing about or elimination if required.  We have already tested this on a smaller scale with satisfactory results.  Refer Gujarat Pogrom for more details about the test parameters, the controls used, and the results.  I am sure you will agree that the response was extremely satisfactory.

At this juncture may I respectfully point out that it is unbecoming of Shammatian lordship to describe this territory in terms that those inferior creatures from Canopus use.  I specifically refer to the use of Canopean word for this planet “Shikasta”.  May I further suggest that your wise lordships consider and embrace a new name for the planet during the feast.  

There may be some advisors to the council who will argue that the name Shikasta is an accurate description and should be retained if for nothing else but tautological reckoning.  There may be others who will snicker at my use of the word inferior in relation with Canopus. 

It is nevertheless your servant’s duty to point out these facts:

1) We planted the reengineered Efluon-3.  It took the creative genius of Shamattian minds to recalibrate an inferior product to something far more superior and far more effective than a simple planetary mood enhancer. 

2) The resulting alignment of Shikasta (nee Rohanda) with Shammat was predicted even though there was skepticism of such a thing ever happening.  Thus, it is with humble homage to the wisdom of the council that I passionately submit for consideration, these two changes in our points of reference.

In consideration of the above and our actual superiority over these creatures I would like to recommend that my suggestion be seriously considered. 

I remain your very sincerely:

Yehmoozuiyan – Lord of Shikasta

::Standard Encryption::Shammat-Council-of-Colonies-Sub-Committee-Shikastan-Situation::End::

---------

::Private Encryption::Zarl-Eyes-Only::Begin::

Zarl: Let’s cut to the chase.  As you’ve ordered I am suggesting to the council this load of crock.  I just want to remind you that our agreement is that you will get me a seat on the council.  So, in case you decide to forget me bosom buddy of mine, I only have to hand in my encryption key set and whatever machinations you have planned for your advancement will be short lived if you don’t come through. Don’t think I won’t do it.  I am willing to risk the penal colony with the elders if it comes to that.  I am fed up (FED UP!) with my genius and efficiency being sidelined for less able jerk offs.  And I need not remind you that my encryption keys revert to the state on my death.  So it is in your best interest to ensure that I do not get eliminated due to a realignment of ‘cosmic forces’.  Savvy?

PS:

I sincerely do hope you know what you are doing.  Leaving ambition aside, the vibes from this place are all weird. No its not those Canopean fuckers.  That Efluon-3 is mutating like crazy.  Salishon-84b in spite of my rosy commentary to the council has an extremely short half life.  The natives are developing resistance to it at a faster rate than anticipated and I have to keep strengthening the formulation. 

My boys predict that at the present rate of dosage strengthening we will have imbeciles, not fit for even basic maintenance of Shammatian lordship, in about 100 cycles.  Beyond that your guess is as good as mine.    If immunity levels hit critical mass then our governance controls are good as dead.  Indications are not good: those developing resistance are immune to the probes of even our most sophisticated controllers.  I suggest you recommend the scraping of the entire Salishon formulation. 

My lab rats are already working on alternates.  A possible solution is in sight.  Initial experiments show some promise but not a whole lot.  Tentative name of formulation is: DarkVade.  The most significant effect is the reduction in life span to 20-30 cycles.  So far the longest a subject has survived is 36 cycles.  Intelligence is compressed to extremely low levels and the propensity to reproduce dulled.  If we are to use this formulation we will need to compensate for this by boosting the population to about 40 billion, thus ensuring a steady feed stock to maintain Shammat at the level of comfort we are accustomed to. 

If we decide to go ahead with DarkVade I am willing to share credit for its discovery with you.  This will strengthen your hand with the Council and you will indirectly support my candidature to the committee. 

I expect to have a full report within the next half cycle and we can decide if DarkVade will be stable enough to last till it become someone else’s headache.  The other alternate is LightBrash but I shudder to even mention what happens when subjects fail to respond as needed.  More on all this later.

::Private Encryption::Zarl-Eyes-Only::End::

---------

 

Your Self: The Static Vs. The Dynamic

(More excerpts from the Shikastan Situation)

One of the biggest disconnects you will feel is between your self and what you are.  Depending on the peculiarities of your situation some of you will break down unable to  cope between the incessant demands of your self and the apparent person you have become.  That’s a worst case rendition.  Most of you will live in an uneasy silence vacillating between the demands of either but invariably choosing what your external persona demands.  Some of you will react with hate – typical Shamattis – to your self’s demands, feel that it is hypocritical – that the “good” you think or feel is of no account as you are daily confronted with the “selfishness” of your own choices. 

At certain moments you may suddenly find yourself looking at yourself from the outside, detached and feel distaste at what you are.  Further, any thought of bettering yourself is usually clouded by indecision, a “what’s the use” echo which hovers in the background of your thoughts, a dogmatic defiant assertion of self “This is how I am”, and other such self limiting tactics.  Naturally, such thoughts will depress your self.  The manifestations of this depression may be a lack of energy, a dull depression accompanied by a feeling of helpness and the plaintive “what can I do”.  Or you may decide to ignore the depression altogether – as one resident put it “i cannot afford the luxury of depression”. 

To understand the gravity of this problem consider this: I have only met one person so far who is actively listening to her self though of course it is far from perfect.  Ironically, even I, spend most of the time listening to my worldly persona.

An attempt to repair this disconnect has been the prime mover behind almost all the religions that have emerged from the fabric of the Shikastan experience.  One of our recent emissaries – locally referred to as The Buddha – coined a term for it, intended to resonate with the populace: Nirvana. 

However, inspite of his sincerest attempts to seed the instructions to ensure a flexible, open disposition by adherents, the religion like all other religions on Shikasta, suffered the usual dogmatic degeneration that any instruction manual  - verbal or written - on Shikasta acquires.  Nirvana is treated as a reward by adherents, which will be acquired through elaborate mental and physical exertions.  The belief being that only the very “worthy” will be able to achieve nirvana. 

The message – as with every other religion – is shrouded in mystical symbolism, elaborate rituals, and dogmatic tradition, fiercely guarded by a priest-class, that is actively combative of any investigation beyond the established forms and rituals.  Or even if investigation is permitted it is as a means to further consolidate and establish validity for the priests themselves or the traditions or both.  In the event these investigations do turn up contrary information (which invariably it will), the usual practice is that the investigators break away from the main body and establish their view as the “correct one” forming a separate sect that will eventually evolve into a priestly class that fiercely guards the established tradition, which will prompt fresh investigation, etc, ad nauseum. 

Another emissary when commenting on the priests and the keepers of the law had this to say: “You have taken away the key to knowledge. You didn't go in yourselves, and you kept out those who were trying to go in.”

Which sums up the actual situation.  There is of course Shammat’s hand in this but the fact is they cannot operate unless ground is provided.   [To understand the factors that permit ground to be acceded in such a manner, refer to Johor’s report on the contaminated Effluon 3 that Shammat impregnated the planet with in the early days of the Shikastan phase]. 

Which, in turn, brings up the essential point: It is customary for agents to rely on the planet for a basic understanding of situation of its people.  On Shikasta however, the planet is totally unaware of the scum of life that exists on its surface.  It has, to quote the archives, “other ideas about itself”.  Thus, an essential ingredient in your psychological makeup is a wary watchfulness against slipping into dogmatic formulations that if left unchecked will evolve into emotional crutches and entomb you in a “fixed” view.

For more clarity refer to Robert Pirsig’s exposition on the static vs. the dynamic.  The book in itself – Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance – has acquired iconic status in the philosophical literature of the period but it is advisable to avoid the commentaries before reading the book.

As Much As I Love My Planet, I Hate its Rulers

(More excerpts from the Shikastan situation)

For some time, this title had been the sub-title of this blog.  Those of you who have shaken off the cobwebs that cloud your mind will recognize it for what it is: An insouciant attempt at drumming up hate for Shammat and its minions. 

Hate, as we all know, never works.  So, it was, even if reluctantly, with a recognition of that reality that I took it down. 

A few of you have already incarnated, many are yet to come.  This blog is for all of you.  When you are ready to receive – as when I am ready to give – you will stumble on this blog.  It will speak to your situation and you will understand.  The mechanics of how – what is termed in the planetary dialect as serendipity – works is well known.  You only need to put yourself in its path.

(Yes, you Shammatians lurking around reading this, you may as well know – serendipity cuts both ways – but we have edge.  That, you can in any case observe, which no amount of gainsaying will obfuscate.  If you would only understand that this has nothing to do with Canopus and instead of ranting and raging over it, if you would just accept it for what it is, you would have entered into the first step of the path to The Purpose.  No matter that you will for the next few centuries rebel and rage and scream against its diktats and try every trick in the book to subvert and purloin the direction.  All we ask from you is the recognition of the fact: serendipity is non sustainable on Shammatian principles.)

There are many things you should know.  Or rather you already know but have forgotten hidden as they are in the recesses of your understanding.  Shikasta is such a place where even a nominally normal understanding is a hard won treasure.  Remember, you are here to fulfill the Need.  Your primary task is to awaken to the Need.  To realign the planetary momentum from a consumption driven binge to a measured and balanced observation of all the facets of a situation and to move with deliberate intent that will succor, sustain and feed.