The Taste of War

The thick tomato sauce as red as cherry spills over the knobby elbow macaroni. Coats them like the white patches on the mountain peaks. The puddle of crow black soya sauce on the layers of dry pasta slowly seeps deep through the narrow depressions. A few pinches of lemon pepper seasoning hails. Beat down the battle-ground like the arrows from the crossbows of the opposition.

The peas camouflage themselves with stains of war in a musty green colour like earthy emerald stones. The chopped pieces of potato lay as spectators, or rather obstacles in the midst of confusion. The perfect blend of spices and cloves with freshly cooked shreds of beef serve as fortifications. The steamy mist engulfs the landscape like the fumes of battle; the haze obstructs your view. 

The threat still lurks as you invade the territory with a piece of chromed cutlery. Destruction strikes and you pick your first prey. As you lift it the tantalizing aroma sneaks up; takes you by surprise and throws you back. It reminds you of your home, the dinner table; the whole family for once in a blue moon enjoying the same voluptuous meal.

You smile and take a mouthful. The softness of the starchy macaroni, as smooth as velvet and you feel a loss of control as it slips out of your grasp. Oh, the crunchiness of the crispy peas, full of comfort. And you definitely yearn for more as they adhere to the mouth like gooey caramel. You indulge yourself with the slices of potato as fluffy as pillows.

It’s near the finish line, your taste buds sense something acrid, tart – fine powder corroding through your tongue like acid. Ooh, the bittersweet delight that caries you away. Your eyes gleam with excitement. And with eagerness you’re ready to launch your second attack.

HOWL - Paint it, Black

It is a fine dry night, frost in the air. A slate gray sky envelops the street like a blanket, throwing it into complete darkness. Where moonlight could only filter through the thick layers of heavy clouds, ready to burst a blessing in disguise.

Turning back in response. To the calling from the gigantic church tower in hover over the entire town, as the clock strikes midnight. Ravens fly away as the crow flies, uttering a shrill raucous cry; owls hoot eerily, bats scatter supersonic waves - the creatures of the night come alive.

Everything so still, so quiet, that one could hear the sound of silence until a cold strong gust of wind breaks the sleeping night, uplifting the fallen autumn leaves into endless swirls, hissing in their loops, piercing through the flesh of every mortal. From the howls in the trees, to the slow sad murmurous rustle as the wind fingers the pine's needles.

The mildewy reeks of the deserted lane crept up the nostrils, the funk of the foulest stench forces a step back. Steps back, onto the glass shards. Panics. Jumps. The neon light bulbs in the lamp posts start to flicker, sizzles with a crackling noise, dazzling the mind of the helpless - in the midst of confusion; spots a figure. The ever-so-faint sound of distant footsteps grow louder, as some damned little juggernaut hardly human, stumps across and then disappears into thin air.

There's an odd pungent smell, nauseating putrescence arising from somewhere. Looks over on the right and sights a corpse of a dead cat. Almost vomits the guts. Lightening strikes an electricity pole. Looks back as the alarm of the car with the broken window starts to ring. Perspires profusely as sweat drips onto the cobblestone. Somethings lurking in the corner.

Water gushes through a destained dingy dilapidated pipe. Looks over on the left as it falls down onto the broken merry-go-round wheel, squeaks and creeks as it oscillates to and fro. This very certain sinister block of building thrusts forward, it has neither a bell not a knocker. Shouts out, "Mr Frankenstein" and the door swings open with a savage laugh coming from inside.

Untitled Mono-Logue

You give up so easily! You don't get what you want, you walk away. You don't get enough attention, you take some pills. That's the problem with your generation, really. You're over-indulged by your parents and you're spoiled and impatient and like to think you're entitled. Hence the so called suicide attempts. You don't want to die, you want people to pity you. It's pathetic.

If you wanted to die, you'd be dead. You would keep trying over and over again, until you got it right. But you don't drink bleach. You don't hang yourself or jump off a bridge or crash your car into a wall. You take pills. You stick your head in the oven. It's a cry for help. So stop wasting your time idealizing and romanticizing death and accept the fact that everyone is miserable. Life is hell for everyone. They just fake it better.

Who are you to think you deserve to be any different? Just grow up already! Lose some weight, buy some new clothes. Get a haircut and put on some make-up. Stop looking for fairness, and authenticity and inspiration because they don't exist. All you have to do is stop whining, show some will power! You're not special. You are just like everyone else. You think you're in pain, but that's all in your head. Just snap out of it!

Mini Saga: Unrequited Love

A young man sat in a cafe with a beautiful lady. Today, he would reveal his feelings for her. As he began to speak, another man walked over and said to her, "Darling, Sorry I'm late. Let me introduce you to my son", pointing at the young man. She smiled.

Little Red Riding Hood

My name is Sofia Neveu, and at the age of seven, I became the reason for the death of my parents. Deprived of a childhood everyone deserves, I was brought to Belzec; a concentration camp. Unlike any other throughout the Nazi Germany, it was indeed the first extermination camp created for implementing Operation Reinhard. I guess, one can call it bad luck because the bivouacs were just set up a week before 18th October, 1941 - the longest unforgettable day of my life, the day my parents were silenced.

One could survive internment, if he or she was in some manner resourceful to the Third Reich; mostly in the form of forced labor or even sometimes in the guise of entertainment for the soldiers and the guards. Too young and feeble, I was proclaimed by the doctors to be ill-equipped. However unsurprisingly, they did not think it was worthy enough to protect us - children, the future of this nation from such cruelties and horrors of life itself.

I was cast out to a small rustic wooden lodge dominated mostly by old and vulnerable people; not to mention the mice which beset and infested the place. Malnutrition was prominent, food was scarce, we were on each others throat; fighting for every driblet of water. Forbidden to leave the cabin, enclosed by four walls with no windows; only few rays of sunlight could stream through the crevices between the planks of wood. Leaving us all craving for the sun; "I want to break free", were the words on everyone's mind except for me and the pessimists who thought otherwise, we were just waiting to die, vanish into thin air and nobody would notice; life became useless and hopeless.

All I ever wanted was to lead a normal life; have well prepared meals, hang out with friends, host occasional tea parties with them and play with my doll house. How did I ever end up here?

Tension was building throughout Europe; hatred against the Jews was reaching its maxima, everyone was left terrorized by the unfolding events. My life on the other hand remained to a large extent unaffected. My father was the Lieutenant General of the Fourth Division; we socialized in the upper class and with the high ranks. No one ever questioned our faith, such was the loyalty of my father, that he had everyone's trust.

I was raised in a family where religion was not given importance neither practiced; I never fully understood the meaning of religion. When things got out of hand and became more serious as Europe was on the brink of total destruction; my parents thought it was best to tell me about our faith. Yes, I am a Jew; amazed, speechless - my world was turned upside down. It's quite funny, how one small minor detail of one's life could alter the course of the rest of the journey.

A few days later, I was taking turns at the swing in the backyard with my neighbors. When a person with medals and decorations on his uniform, walked in. He came and sat right next to me. Had a lot of good things to say about my father, praised his work and valor. Affirmed me that he and father were very close mates; that they had fought side by side and had each others back on the battle field.

His smirky smile should have said it all and revealed his intentions. Lost in my own world, I accidentally disclosed the family's secret. He consoled me and gave reassurance; that everything was going to be fine. I should have spotted his disguise.

The next morning, I am woken up by the impatient banging on the front door, these hammer pounding noises did not stop for quite sometime. A minute later, echoes of two gun shots were the only voice coming back; my heart skipped a beat as I froze like a zombie faintly looking out of my bedroom window.

They came for me, the only thing I was able to clutch on was the little red jacket my mother had woven. A part of me knew that this was inevitable, my heart was aching but my eyes were falling short on tears.

I donned my jacket as they escorted me out of my own house onto a jeep. Innocent blood was spilled that day just because my parents concealed their identity and the so called friend veiled his.

Me in my little red jacket and destruction all around; that's what was left of it ...

You Can't Always Get What You Want! - Part 1

Whataya want from me? or God, even the Universe; for those who behold that belief highly, is a big question to all of us. It might arise in the unlikeliest of places, like on an endless shopping spree or in one of those leisure bathroom breaks where your mind escapes to infinity; lost in a deep thought. Even in the awakening arousing from a phrase in the novel assigned by the book club or when we explore the unexplainable nature of our imagined world. In our loneliest hours; all by ourselves, maybe praying where there is always the tendency to become carried away and greedy, demanding for more than what's in our reach, overlooking the line drawn between what we rightly deserve and that we don't. Bottom line, everyone wants!

However, is it really harmful that you want something so badly - that to have it in your hands is dearest to you at the moment, no matter what the price is? Well of course not, unless it becomes an obsession which is a different scenario it self. Sadly, this very word is quite often degraded by its usage, by many who rather use it in the sense of a desire. To want something is to want it earnestly, with all your heart and soul. You seek it until you achieve it, you give it your best shot. As sometimes things do not work out, the way you 'want' them to - all you can do is try.

The best example that pops up in my mind, is the time before the announcement of ones previous examinations result, where students as a last resort murmur similar words, "Oh God! I wish that i get all A's in my exams, please God! Pleeasssee. It is very important, that I have these grades, my mom is going to kill me otherwise. I want all A's. I will do anything, I will be a good person." There you go, the irony lies in the statement itself; where at one point a person is wishing for something to happen than later on wanting it. If someone really did want it in the first place, than why on Earth did he not direct all his efforts towards it when he had the chance? Rather than later on grieving and regretting being in such a situation where prayers could only save him, where uncertainty takes over him.

The answer is quite simple, he never wanted that, he would have preferred to have it, wished that he did; as his future would have been easier without the need to struggle through unforeseen obstacles but his life wouldn't have been over in his eyes if he didn't. He would have survived, dealt with it and moved on. Though if the very same person, did manage to luckily enough surprise his own self and got the desired result, than instead of being grateful for this precious gift, his rock and roll all night and party everyday attitude would have taken shape. A person who wanted those grades truthfully, would have known that he deserves them and wouldn't have created such a fuss about getting them; after having their heart set on achieving that and spending so much time earning them, why bother wasting another breath on it.

There is only a very thin line between wishes and wants; you wish for something when you realize that it would be a very unlikely case that you possess it or have the chance of doing it. Wishes are usually very straight forward, something that one really doesn't hide as they are just a mere reflection of ones own self. Ones deepest wishes are his desires, acknowledging them means discovering our inner self and accepting the core of our motivations. When we deny our desires and attach rules or codes to our lives, we cut ourselves off from our gifts, love and creativity. It secretly posses a threat to our success both in career and personally; our optimum potential is not enhanced, abilities are not capped and well, loss of interest is just one of the initial steps towards a self destructive path.

So what, big deal, just a few grammatical errors than and there - doesn't really make a difference, right? That's most probably going through your head by now. There is a saying that goes like, "If you expect nothing from anybody, you’re never disappointed" and the wrong interpretation of these words well can be hurtful, misleading and dismaying. Yes, there are quite a few many variances of these words but they all have their differences and that's what is important to recognize over here.

Wants. Wishes. Desires. Hopes. Dreams. Lust. Long. Crave. Yearn. Aspire.

To be continued ...

AWKWARD.

In the middle of the room, I could feel that the walls were enclosing upon me, I was suffocating, I could barely breathe. My eyes wandering off to pay heed to details, like as if this was not a familiar place; taking notice for the very first time of the microwave's broken handle, barely holding on the edge. Everything was so hazy and blurred that I felt my vision being completely blocked and the world was spinning around in circles; as if someone had pulled up the blinds allowing the rays of the sun to stream through and their brightness causing flash blindness.

A radical unlikely possibility was the best explanation at the moment for what I was experiencing. Had I drank too much vodka? Had I partied too hard? Or worse! Maybe I had gone back to the good old days of snorting cocaine and disguising my misery. They do say old habits die hard. I have never felt so out of context with this circle of friends, to just be in their presence was like a safe haven for me. I could feel that the place which I used to call home, being snatched and taken away from me so far beyond that I would never be able to find it again.

Their conversations would calm me down, guide me and we could discuss and talk about each and every matter but all of a sudden that reposeful contained soothing feeling felt like was lost forever. I used to be the center of attention, I felt like saying something but I just didn't care enough. I could just go sit in the corner. All alone right next to the freakishly annoying standing glass mantel clock. With complete confidence, I could say neither of the three would notice the bizarreness of the situation - and I ain't being cocky!
 
Their words sounded like as if they were speaking a language alien to me. For the first time I was distracted, lost in my own world, hearing noises I would usually ignore. That of the bustling fast shabbily blue coloured sky train passing by outside the apartment, overpowering their hearty laughs and high pitched voices. I did not have the slightest idea, the tiniest clue, no hint whatsoever! About why they were screaming on top of each others voice. Phrases that's all I could catch from the midst of their heated up conversation so disconnected like as if I was some kind of ghost or dead meat to them.
 
Was I too far fetched in my surreal dreams and fantasies. Or was it the nerve-wracking pressure of the work load at the office. Perhaps even the stress of completing the thesis for my doctorate by the end of the month. There were many countless reasons for why this was happening but my mere existence seemed to be of little importance to them at the time, as if I was 'resting in peace' in their sights. Over analyzing and being crumbled with so many different thoughts, I couldn't figure it out my self.

I just had to get out of the room, it was like my body was being crushed by this immense powerful imaginary force and likewise an extraordinary pain boiling furiously right out of my gut. The escape boat, I had been waiting for like a period that seemed so long and never ending, finally came by. I could not bear to spent another second in this company. With the excuse that the buzzer of the oven in which a delicious spicy chicken was being roasted went off, in a jiffy I stood up and left to take a moment outside in the terrace. The looks on their faces were astonishing, heartbreaking, leaving me speechless as if I was not present this whole time, as if I was a stranger, an outlier. It was a long awkward moment ...

Got a secret ... Can you keep it?

A few days ago, this friend of mine had posted on Facebook,
"You may be deceived if you trust too much, but you will live in torment if you don't trust enough". Quite thoughtful and deep words indeed! It's a vicious cycle - trust. One can go into self destructive mode without it and on the other hand too much of it can crumble your whole life to ashes.

We are all human, and come to terms with it or not - all of us in some way; willingly or indirectly rely on each others support, and that is the truth. One trusts the transport system of the city to get to work on time, one trusts the school teacher of your child to carry out her duty, one trusts the doctor to give you the right medicine for your illness. One trusts! But fails to realize or recognize such trust, which is quite ironic considering where one would be without it.

The trust we do acknowledge is such that one cant buy, rather earn over a period of time - again varying from person to person, situation to situation. A saying goes,
"true friendships are based on trust .."
but sadly not all friendships are based on trust, and what is this trust? In my view it is in a peculiar way an indiscrete level of understanding between two individuals, an idea which requires perpetual silent mutual agreement - one which keeps on growing, never ending, being limitless.

Not all the times the other person is at the same level as we are, which tends to be of conflict in conversations and maybe the only time the issue of trust is brought up; usually leading to arguments, fights, and even the collapse of ones relationship - it only takes a few seconds, a few regrettable steps or a few guilty mistakes to break ones trust that took such a long time to build.

"Swear this one you'll save, better lock it in your pocket, taking this one to the grave ..." these are the lyrics that follow the one in the title, such a beautiful meaningful song by The Pierces called Secret. I like to think that secret is an old fashioned word used back in the days where trust was implicitly expressed through it, where as in the modern world as I said before it just lies in our silent agreement. It's just that understanding, that no one longer needs to say anymore "Got a secret ... Can you keep it?", maybe if one does it just signifies that you don't trust him enough - something to surely think about.