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

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? 

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?

::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 yourselves as soon as it is ready.

Our ‘religious superiority’ indoctrination among a rabid minority within the majority Hindus will reach fruition in 10-30 cycles.  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 that hot steam of blood which will emanate from the freshly dead.  We hope to deliver for this Feast anywhere from 1 million to 10 million souls without destabilizing our 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-84 in spite of my rosy commentary to the council has an extremely short half life.  The natives are developing resistance at a faster rate and I have to keep strengthening the formulation.  My personal measurements tell me that we will be able to retain this level of control for a maximum of 100 cycles more.  Beyond that your guess is as good as mine.  After that your guess is as good as mine.  Indications are not good: those developing resistance are immune to the probes of even our most sophisticated controllers.  In short, once the immunity levels reach critical mass I expect all hell to break loose.  I have already put a crack team  on to this problem.  Initial reports are not very encouraging.  More on this later.

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

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