Lab 4 - Abhishek

(Mirroring Sudarshan's koraakaagaz lab. Don't think it turned out that great, but wtf!)

Damn it! - Where's that goddamned galli no. 17 ? Isn't that what Maya had said ? 'Satara pe khatara' . Cheeky, he thought and definitely uncalled for. Maya could never quite comprehend what was chic and what was not. Anyway, he had a godforsaken address to find. DefLep throughout the night! More than he could stand up to.

He slid past the brilliantly lighted Diwali streets. The rows and rows of twinkling bulbs and throngs of merry-makers, shoppers. A suffocating lithos and a magnificent atmos. Strange. A silver mist,though seemed unnecessary to distinctly separate the two. Wtf. Ah! here's galli 16, Nana Peth. So 17 should be around the corner. 16 wasn't too good looking. Infact, it almost looked to have been beaten to it's current 'black-blue' appearance. It merely seemed to squeak out whatever it was that it was suppossed to tell. The galli no, the area, survey no - crap! here's 18, where the fuck is 17. Those irritating kids must've been blocking the way. He back-tracked.

No kids. They seem to have vanished leaving behind a thick cloud of miasma. Chuck it, how the hell did i miss that? Normally peths didn't have large, reflective, green coloured signs with large friendly letters. Yes, 'large friendly letters' - where've I heard that ? And it was screeching out the number. Seventeen. Hell, I even hear an electric guitar. How did I overlook that? Must've been the haze, of voices.

He entered, what was for time of the year a quite uncrowded lane. He saw a gory ensemble. He looked at the mirrored red blouse, unashamedly in view against a backdrop of almost visible black locks. Head down, straight ahead. Did it have to be here ? But then 350 bucks a month! That was cheap. Struggling artists can't even beg with dignity on large boulevards or open avenues. Begging required a different skill set in different locales. Which way was it? Hell, the prositute was trailing him. He quickened his pace. A step a second, then two, then three . . . Where the fuck was Suditsu Bar. Look around for weird red chinese signs. There couldn't be many. 5 minutes of heart-wrenching cat-mouse game. He looked behind. The prostitute seemed to have slipped away. Strange he thought, didn't see any alleys down the way. Ah! there it was, Suditsu Bar, in red 'chinese' font - more probably another seedy joint in a seedy locality. 350 bucks a month. He knocked at the door. "Password". Yup, this is the right place. "Hysteria" - "Come one in". The only piece of useful information Maya had given. Dave was known to be a stickler for such issues. The hand that lead him through seemed to be female. Umm... mirrored reds seems to be the latest trend.

Dave seemed really nice on first sight. Strangely, but not unusually he had his shirt off, his chest a showpiece of thick black overgrowth. He gave getting in one's hair an entirely new meaning. I was asked to sit right beside him. He asked me pick up a piece of paper fallen at his feet. I bent down. His chest-hair suddenly seemed to be moving, a crawling mass of thick black worms. The red woman, appeared in full view - to reveal a million figures on her blouse- long slender body, blond-black hair and a snake's tiny multi-coloured blue eyes. The speaker's blare. Shit! 'Die Hard the Hunter'. Did he have to be Clark's greatest fan?

Damn, that white mist again . . .

war of da worlds

here's my take on the movie "War of the Worlds". I'm dividing it into a number of parts. I'll write the subsequent ones only if everyone who reads this puts in a comment saying what a great writer i really am. That said, i've borrowed a couple of ideas from a standup comic called Eddie Izzard and some from the movie itself. I mention it just so u dont call me a plagiarist.




No one would have believed in the last years of the twentieth century that this world was being watched keenly and closely by intelligences greater than man's and yet as mortal as his own; that as men busied themselves about their various concerns they were scrutinised and studied, perhaps almost as narrowly as a man with a microscope might scrutinise the transient creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water. With infinite complacency men went to and fro over this globe about their little affairs, serene in their assurance of their empire over matter. It is possible that the infusoria under the microscope do the same. No one gave a thought to the older worlds of space as sources of human danger, or thought of them only to dismiss the idea of life upon them as impossible or improbable. It is curious to recall some of the mental habits of those departed days. At most terrestrial men fancied there might be other men upon Mars, perhaps inferior to themselves and ready to welcome a missionary enterprise. Yet across the gulf of space, minds that are to our minds as ours are to those of the beasts that perish, intellects vast and cool and unsympathetic, regarded this earth with envious eyes, and slowly and surely drew their plans against us. And early in the twenty first century came the great disillusionment.


The prelude to the attack...


The plans for the attack had been under preparation for a long time now. In fact the seeds of the attack had already been planted far before the apes, the homo erectus or the homo sapiens had made their appearance on the face of the planet. The people of the planet Mars resemble greatly in appearance a cross between the ugliest of pygmies from the jungles of Congo and Mithun Chakraborty. One martian is identifiable from the other only by closely identifying the colour and size of a protruding muscle from below the navel, in case of women and the colour of the bollocks in case of men. A choice of 2658894977397584784798734643877 colours identifiable by the Martian eye prevents any confusion. Contrary to planet earth, the female of the Martian is the more dominant of the species and the male has forever been a pawn in the women’s hands (slimy, ugly and fluorescent green).
The male martian is one of the geekiest creatures of the galaxy ( surpassed in geekiness only by the female students of COEP). However, tired of the torment and torture of the she-males of mars, all the males decided to leave the planet and colonize the newly cooled planet earth ( life on Mars began even before the earth had cooled down), far from the reach of their tormenters.

Now, the growth and development of the planet earth was being regulated by a strange little guy called God who called the whole process “genesis”. This guy was a really smart chappie and had created some great forests( mainly marijuana and opium) and large water bodies that he called oceans consisting mainly of fermented barley and ferments of various other fruits and grains. So far so good, said the slimy little martian males, but this guy soon planned on creating a stupid little creature called man, in his own image. Now god was a really smart ( and horny) guy by himself and if he created this “man” in his own image, it was obviously detrimental to Martian interests for this little species would multiply thousandfold before you can say “chakraborty”.

So the martians quietly sneaked into Gods harem while he was with one of the muses and kidnapped him in his sleep. They brought him back to Mars and updated him with the position. Now god was an understanding and sympathetic guy and instead of creating man he created 500 really big, ugly and slimy dinosaurs in the image of his cousin Spielberg.

This made the martians extremely happy, for these slimy monsters gobbled up all the earth’s opium and marijuana and through matter transportation fart-rays sent it all to mars where they all smoked pot, listened to pink floyd and got high. But soon the dinosaurs realized they were being used and started black-marketing some of the dope to various creatures around. This greatly annoyed the martians and god alike. So, one fine day they packed all the dinosaurs, all 5000 of them ( yeah, they had lots of sex), into little stones and went to sleep.

Thanks to all the opium they had been consuming, they slept for 65 million years….




to be continued...

Statement One

The first activity for this blog is to write a short story or any other form of literary expression based on a film story. Completion date : Friday, 29th July.

Hope all of u read this in time.

Why?

This is a private blog for writing exercises.