How blind were power hungry politicians. Until Atal was in power his style was mimicked by the rest. As soon as he went out of the business: he fell ill and forgotten. Shah started mimicking Modi and others started mimicking him in rallies. Rhetoric. I was not surprised: they knew only this way. I had observed my siblings copying my father. When I showed it to them: it had a two fold effect. I would use the same technique to fight shyness. They said. Then they began attacking me for being deviant. I was not an ant of Devi but rather Anant. An ant on Pennant. I would have to be careful. You are reading my mind and seem interested. I can tell this much: it’s a jungle of memes and instead of realising the essence we get attached to forms. If not family or friends– memes from art and culture take over. Ramayana and Mahabharata are art forms which engage people so much that they are able to spill blood. Another art is art of creating Patriots. They are conditioned by system using intoxication. Then reverse conditioning is needed to feed masses who are vicariously enjoying the thrill of martyrdom but can’t really dare to kill. Bhagwad Geeta can be interpreted anyway: Gandhi who championed the non-violence considers it to be a battlefield of mind where evil is subdued by good. Right wing says: you would have read that it was all a dream as in case of other stories like sage Markandeya witnessing Matrix by grace of Godhead.

I woke up in a container. Someone had called police. A Burlesque man had killed another with a Lance. Lancelot patios ios soiree reefer fey. In the new version: everyone was busy playing some games or the other. I found none of them suitable for me so I invented my own. And even when it resembled the games they were playing it was unique. It had a life of its own. They checked my right arm. As soon as they put some solution on it- there came a great amount of steam. I was quarantined. I had been waiting. I knew the charade for I was the designer. Exploring the facility. My grandmother who was naked most of nights because of excessive lust for her husband died some 50 years ago used to prey upon me. A pervert. I found her in the quarantine. I kept exploring the facility. It had a clean toilet and plenty of food which was distributed punctually. What else a nomad like me needed. I sang a nobody is nobody and a monody can be converted into a threnody if dying monopoly allows it to be. I used to play on the piano. I woke up in a dream. It was a strange dream. A realm of possibility. I had been to the bathroom. I was going to search for the urban itching for my bike was stolen. I rode a friend’s bike. I woke up in a garden. The Heather and the lemon grass. Kids wanted to play but I was concerned about their safety. I was distressed that the ground was muddy.

You decide Take this key,
And this package
Which will make you invisible
Hide behind the wall over there She said. I woke up again  I was wondering if I could cross over the sewage line being dug on my way to search the thief. Then I found myself on the very ride I was looking for. It was strange but steam was still coming out of my arm. I woke up at the bench. Then in the container. Then I found myself on bed. It soon seemed like a Jacob’s ladder rungs though I had no recollection of its initiation. Though thrill it was enervating beyond limit. I was becoming delirious and nauseated. Seated on my chair I kept puking frequently and rocking it. I kept on falling down. Rabbit hole bit me last six months. I was distracted.