December is a bad month, for me personally it is. It’s the events that transpires that just hurts me in a way that I can’t imagine. Last month was no different. To all who read my comments and blog (both this one,and the defunct one) know that sometimes, not always I complain. I complain when I just can’t express my disappointments. And I complain through writing.

So why is it that I want to write so much, and still can’t? Maybe I’ve matured, maybe just maybe I’ve become one of those early 30’s people who are recognized as being cold. I’ve heard the word Freak in my life many times, but only now does it sound okay to me. Again maybe it’s cause I act like one?

I’m more of a loner, in real life. Those who know me are far and few, and one of those is now not with me, someone close. I again think why am I writing this. The answer cause writing is the only way I have always expressed myself.

Although I’ve changed myself it seems internally I’ve not moved an inch. That emotionless, heartless, freak kid that I was, the loner,is still there. Make no difference to me, but I do think about as to why I’m still breathing?

When you encounter Death, from personal experience and from the experience of being a witness you ask yourself is life really worth it? A man looking forward to enjoying his life taken away in a blink of an eye,and a man who wants to die still breathing watching the person who wants to live die. If a God does exist he is one sadistic being. That’s why he doesn’t understand humans, and humans don’t understand him.

But even if you curse, cry, scream, and think of hurting yourself the reality won’t change. A piece is lost and you’re also lost. Which means that all that left is a broken soul which will never repair.

Flutter, and it falls

Struggling attempt, recommence

A broken wing, Fly



All curled up inside the hole , he tried to move. He could hear the footsteps of men , based on the distance he knew that they were close. He calculated the risk of exposing himself versus the risk of staying still. Time was a luxury he couldn’t afford.
“Is this gambling, it is isn’t it”?, he thought.
He tried to laugh, but couldn’t, after all he didn’t want to risk exposing himself.
How did he end up in this situation. He tried to think. Did he do anything wrong?
He followed the doctrines, he adhered to the idea that he was taught.
“They’re not germane to the idea of our ideal society”, he remember the words. The words of his trainer.
He also heard the silent screams of those persecuted by this ideology. “But I can’t fight for them”, he thought.
So he followed the herd. And now; this. Before he could peak into his past any further, someone opened the safe room.
The assailant grabbed his shirt, pulled him out, and threw him on the ground.
Before he could come to his senses, he saw a gun being pulled by the assailant.
He laughed, and before he could say anything three shots were fired all of them passed through his temple.
Before his soul could leave this world , he heard the words of his assailant,¨Nazi pig¨.

Written for Senseiś FOWC. The word is “germane.”


How is that the person with the least amount of luck managed to survive the Armageddon ?
Sitting at the abandoned warehouse he stared at the broken ceiling, through which the light came pouring down.
“Why did I survive”?, he asked.
Along came the reply ,”Haven’t you heard, Leave-one-out ”

This joke can be understood by people familiar with Statistics, or Machine learning.(The Title and the last line will make it clear) You can Google Cross-validation to understand it. I apologize if this wasn’t your cup of tea, but hey!! at least you came to know a new term.Written for this week’s Twittering Tales prompt from Kat Myrman. Photo credit: Michael Gaida @


“Why would anyone want to kill themselves”, he thought? This is a question that he asked again, and again.
“Living seems to be a burden , really”?
“Is life truly worthless. On another note, why would anyone want to kill anyone else”?
Maybe the question is all wrong, “Why does anyone not value life”?
Life as it turns out is not under your control, never was, never will be.
To those who say they are in control , well they are in control of a structure that’s being provided to them.
For example let say a guy/girl is a billionaire, well he/she depends on others to create his/her wealth.
And whenever in an equation this ‘other’ is involved can you actually call that being in-control?
Maybe that’s the reason people don’t value life.
They think that what’s the point of living it anyway. You eat (the food that you never grow), you live in a house (that you never made , if you did ‘make it’ smart ass!! you didn’t plant the trees for the wood,or didn’t create the bricks, now did you).
Even the volume of hair on your scalp is not under your control.
So life is in short could be defined by one word dependent.
So stop struggling because the only way you can control your life is when you set it free, free from the control.
So let it go, here let me give you a push. And you’ll soon realize that all the dependence is gone.
Alas! the death is the only real control. And so…he jumped.

Written for Sensei’s One-Word Challenge (aka, FOWC). The word is volume.


I’m staring at the screen for quite a long time. Texting back and forth with a person I’ve never met.
He/She has a funny name. South / East Asian origin I think. Alone chatting with this individual in this chat room I realized that something is wrong.
I couldn’t ask whether the person is a he/she. It will be rude to ask, so I just kept on typing. Slowly my hands grew tired, I didn’t want to type anymore.
I asked the person of what he/she thinks of the peculiar situation I’ve been put through.
I could read the words filled with compassion, and sympathy but I don’t think that they have a genuine feeling to them.
He/She told me that the situation will be improved. But I wasn’t feeling any assurance. How long has it been since I talked to someone, I mean literally talked to someone?
So I replied thanks to the person on the chat. I told that I’ve got to go. He/She wanted to me to stay, but I couldn’t. I just ended the chat window.
I took my phone, and stared at it’s screen. I search for a number on the internet, and began to dial the number.
A person picked up, again an unfamiliar voice. But this time I knew, it was a male. Again Asian origin ,based on the accent.
As his voice asked my name I felt a sudden rage building inside me. Maybe it was the voice, I knew this was not this person’s mistake, but I couldn’t hold back.
“When you can speak, why not just burst your emotions out?”, my consciousness reminded me.
Before the Asian guy could finish his statement I yelled, “Hey Amazon, where the hell’s my package”?

Written for Sensei’s PROVOCATIVE QUESTION #46 the question:- For those of you who grew up only using smartphones, is it necessary to call anyone anymore? (I mean yeah, family and Amazon)


It’s not something that you could see, yet you witness it. A common feature of all human beings, maybe of all the life forms inhabiting this planet.
The curious and sincere eyes of 6 year old Anna silently were screaming the question,”So why do we do it?”
Maybe I was thinking aloud , he thought to himself as he looked at Anna. She was the reason he was alive. “Nor that we could control our lifespan”,he chuckled.
Anna was now more curious. She sometimes didn’t understand what her grandpa thinks, or what he even talks for the matter.
She visits her occasionally, and each and every time she sees him thinking more and more.
“Grandpa, are you okay”, asked Anna?
“Never been better”, he said.
“Look I took a picture of the time I went to Beach with mommy and daddy”, Anna said.
He looked at the picture that she took the creativity of a child , and how their world are limited to their parents.
He looked at Anna again, and thought if she could see her again.
“Time’s up”, said the guard.
Anna knew that her grandpa with all his bright chains behind the wall will be taken to his new home.
“We will meet again Anna”, he said.
Anna this time puzzled put her head on the glass and said,” But Grandpa, you’re meeting the God next week. Mommy said that.”
Before he could realize his eyes opened up, he was back in his cell.
“A bad omen, or a good one”, he murmured.
And than he remember that the dream started with the description of the dream.
“What a joke!!”, and he burst out laughing.

Written for Sensei’s Flash Fiction challenge


As the rumbling sound emerged from itś belly , those who witness the movement from afar grew anxious. As the immovable giant suddenly flew towards the heaven, the ground on which it previously rested was engulfed in flames.

But unknown to the beast three adventurers had climbed in itś belly, 3 courageous man who wanted to go explore the land that lied beyond the heaven. They needed the beast, and itś wings. Slowly they could see the land that they have left behind. They knew that they were the first.

The preparations, their hard work it all finally paid off. Finally they can meet the destiny that earlier was dismissed as a mere fairy tale. One of the lads Williams had a magic item which can capture the image of anything that he saw . And he captured the land that he left behind.

It was a beautiful sight to behold. They could see from a distance that there was another land ahead. But before they could actually put a foot on the land the giant returned to their land. But those 3 men were not disappointed , they knew that soon using the power of the giant beast they could go to the land beyond the heaven.

Let me tell you lads the name of the three men:- Frank , James , and William. And they did something that was never done before, they flew beyond the heavens. Their flight was called Apollo 8 and the image of the land that they took was named ¨Earthrise¨.

Written for Senseiś Provocative Question #45 the question asked Is it be possible for humans to create something completely novel and new that is based on nothing that previously existed?

Well I hope my post could delineate my thoughts.


The mind deluged with varied emotions, the heart echoing precariousness with a thumping beat.

The dilated pupils repudiating the plea to revert to the original state, thus reflecting this unsolicited change.

With the arms covering the face, the face being buried in the knees, and the knees trembling with frailty the lips whisper a prayer seeking the blessings of reverting.

But the realization betrays the hope, the medley of emotions overwhelming his senses. “How could he have fallen”, he asked?, he tried to raise his head in an attempt to see the heavens, as if he could catch a glimpse of God himself who could answer his question.

He never realized that this could be so hurtful. He regretted catching this disease the silly thing which everyone ignores; but once bitten and not cured can leave you helpless , and in some extreme cases could even destroy you.

The silly thing called Love.

written for Sensei Challenge the word is silly


The first time that we met I was afraid . My complete existence inundated with a feeling of uneasiness. With my eyes closed, my stiff body, and my wavering mind prepared for the unbidden embrace.
As my tranquility was encroached , a tear started rolling down on my cheek. The pretence of serenity was slowly getting ripped off.

As my knees gave up, and I tumbled a soothing voice whispered in my ear assuring me that slowly but surely this feeling will perish. But to dismiss the uneasiness as an insouciant shrug was an uphill task for my consciousness.

But as I endeavoured, and adjured my heavy throbbing and sorrowful heart; the tightened embrace slowly begin to unclasped. The heavily I indulged in my work , the lesser I was hosted by the presence.

As now I sit on this chair, with the remaining moments of my life seeing the eyes of the people who with their silence cry “Murderer” I think to myself:-

Was ignoring it worth it? Even now I remember it’s first visit , the visit of that emotion called Guilt , and with it the soothing voice of the Devil.


It’s a strange feeling that I’m feeling nowadays.  Perhaps I’m changing, I know my habits are.  One strange voice in my mind told me, “You’re not yourself anymore, you do know that, do you?” 

It begs the question of my identity,whether it’s made up by me,  or people who know me, or it’s just that everyone has an identity which is decided by bigger powers (State, country)? 

While I am sad, and happy at the same time I just don’t know if I really have a purpose of living. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not depressed, and no I’m mentally healthy, but still I find myself continuously thinking of the reason I want to do things that I do. 

Which brings a childhood memory of mine back to life, torturing ants. You know you have done it,  we all have. You know how good it felt. The thinking that you could disrupt, and end the life of the little creatures made you feel like God, didn’t it. But for me it was the scrambling, how those little creatures were suddenly caught unaware of the ‘gift of the unexpected’. 

So I thought why not to gift the ‘gift’ again. And thus all I needed was a gun, and a crowded place. You see as they say, “There always is somebody out there to get you.” And ass I said and add go the above quote, “ It’s not God, but it certainly is death.”

Writing for Sensei’s prompt,after a long time. And the above work is a work of fiction.