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The Loop

I caught myself gazing. Unconsciously. Unpretentiously. Unfathomably. That fucking screen. With the same 20 sec corporate advertising looping. Looping in a confined space. Looping like nothing else existed. My food had gone cold. People sitting next to me became irrelevant. That ad. Those visuals. Kept looping in the screen. And in my mind. Funny thing: I still don’t know why. It was a shit commercial. Same old platitudes. Same old promises. Same old new-age foresight; in hindsight, it was everything that works for our banal self. So why was I staring at these visuals that seemingly brought nothing new to the table? Possibly because nothing is ever new. Nothing is ever old. It’s just changing perspectives. “Hey, are you even listening to me?” Sounds crashed on the shore of my prefrontal cortex. I snapped out of myself. “Of course. You’re absolutely right!”, I blurted. She looked at me for a second or two. I feared the worst. And then came her reply. “Right? I knew you wou...
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Questions?

Some things come naturally. Some things? Need to manifest. Need to be forced. And you never know which side things turn towards, will you? Sometimes, there are motives. Sometimes, there are impulses. And sometimes, there is nothing. Things happen. Whether you want them to. Or not. Do they just happen? Innocent people die. Culprits live a long, healthy, and beautiful life. Seems like there is no justice to any of it. Seems like chaos. Maybe it just is. Is it? The world runs behind money. But what does money run behind? No one knows. Or does somebody know? Who knows? The impulse to do a bad deed always exists. The impulse to do good for someone also exists. And the circumstance in which you choose one or the other... guess what? Flip of a coin? Fate? Or just chaos? Explosive beginnings. Subtle ends. A tragedy that lends itself to art. A comedy that destroys humanity. Justice seekers. Rule breakers. It's a mix we seek to understand. But do you really have the answer? Or do y...
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The Swarm

They were crawling on top of each other. With little regard for the convenience of their kin. Insects made their way across passages of dirt and dust. This was their daily grind. Carrying huge loads from one corner to the other. For the advancement of their species. On a cursory look, they look like any other colony. Thousands upon thousands making their way in confined, often overcrowded spaces not because they liked it, or because their genome demanded it. Simply because 'option' wasn't something that existed in abundance. One fine morning, one traffic ridden tube, one slip of the leg, and a weak one perished. Nothing out of the ordinary. Workers had come to expect and accept it. This was the hand dealt to them. However, this species was special. Not because of these tireless workers. That existed in every insect community. Only in this one, there were multiple queens. With varied agendas.  Each queen expected something different from its workers. One demanded work. One d...
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Fear R.S.V.P

  Fear. I see you. In the shadows. Just round the corner. I see you chasing me like a wild dog chases a rabbit. Like murderous rage chases the angered mind. Why is it that you don’t leave me alone? Why is it that you make me look back? You make me pause. Take a step back. Hesitate. God dammit you destroyed the one thing I loved, the one woman I loved, the one path I had chosen for myself and the one goal I had in life. Why? What’s so terrifying beyond the act that makes you pull me behind? In this ‘Do what you love’ and ‘Go forth’ era, what the fuck do you offer? Perspective? Rationality? Caution? Really? That’s what you look for? … I asked myself what I would do in fear’s shoes… The father’s voice when you are rash on your bike. The mother’s voice when you stay out late at night. That sister’s voice when you date that bitch. Fear, right? Oh, I see! Now, I know. Why you have this weird control over me. … But this time, I want to sit you down and say, it’s OK man. This time, I have ...
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In conversation with failure.

The year, 1997. A dimly lit room. Worn out chairs, outdated equipment. Clearly, this was a big budget interview. On one side sat an interviewer who couldn’t care less if he tried. And on the other side, was a nobody, a trough in this crest-loving world. He was a failure. A man who had tried. And that was his biggest achievement. Ten people in the audience. Three of whom came to sleep. The interviewer began his broken line of questioning. Interviewer: So, sir… (turning to his assistant) Do we have a name? A loud voice speaks up from across the table. “Matsya. Matsya Khapse.” Interviewer: Oh, yes. Mr. Matsya. The founder of First.ly. A URL shortening service and a link management platform. Interesting. Tell me, in a world where URLs are so easy to remember, why do we need to shorten them. Matsya: Well, in the immediate future, no, we don’t need to. Today, there are about 1.1 million URLs in existence. Most of them being hyperlinks to private corporations and a few independent pages. But ...
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Red v Blue

  A bright office. A brown couch. A man wearing a white coat sitting on a distant chair. A man wearing black lying on the couch. The session starts. The white man begins. “So Bharat, batao kya hua?” The black man, motionless. Staring at the ceiling. A frown forms on his face. “Qitaab.” The white man drops his head. Picks it back up. And continues. “Bharat, you need to get over this.” Calm and composed, Bharat replies with an aggressive tone. “How doctor, how can I get over it? I told you… this is the antichrist.” The doctor opens his notepad. A few words written on the page, jump to his eyes. The pen meets paper. Ink is drawn. He looks at Bharat, who is now sitting staring right at him. He continues. “Books aren’t the antichrist Bharat, they bring you towards the light. They educate you…” “Life educates me…” Bharat interrupts. “Books… they just manipulate me.” “How do know it’s not the other way round?” Bharat gets up and starts walking around the room. He steps up to a curtain by ...
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File Number 11271518920813

  1:04 am. Click. How shipping containers work. Click. Shipping containers are the reason for bananas being affordable to human kind. Pause. Boring. Click. 2001: A space Odyssey. I have been putting this off for a long time. Click. Wow! That was abstract. Didn’t realize Stanley Kubrick reveled in the mysticism of god, albeit, scientifically. Click. YouTube. Suggested videos. Jaby Koay reacts to Batla House. Click. What a loser. I can’t believe millions of Indians are gratified by an American watching Indian content. Wait. I’m one of them. Click. 10 things successful people do that others don’t. Yes. More productive. Click. Never give up. Cliché. Follow your passion. Cliché. Wake up early. Fuck me. This is a drag. Click. 2:13 am. YouTube. How shipping containers work. Wait a second. YouTube has brought me full circle. I thought that’s what life did. Click. My life is an algorithm. Mapped out. A number in a file. With life expectancy defined, needs decoded, wants understood...
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