A Tale Of Two Cities

13-11-04 0200hrs
Iam a survivor, I live to tell the tale. The ordeal began last Thursday. I was dreaming of my family calm in my sleep, it’s been a while since I saw them. The situation has been tense for a month now. My school has been locked up for two days and counting, just as most of the shops around are. They probably fled fearing the worst or maybe they’ve joined the others.
The first explosion shook me awake, as though the earth had moved under me. The second one made me sit up and take notice. All of a sudden I was surrounded by random gunfire and deafening explosions. I looked out of the window only to find my city slowly but surely transforming into a battlefield. I wasn’t exactly surprised. Rumours of a nationwide uprising were rife for quite some time now. It was only a matter of time before the people took to the streets. All around were people armed to the teeth and children with guns. The transformation had been complete and I found myself asking them why. “Its for the victory of good over evil” was the retort. I felt like a traitor. I found myself empty handed when the rest of my creed were up in arms. I would’ve picked up arms myself (you can buy them off the counter these days) had they not been so loud and repulsive. Resigning to my fate I ambled back home, careful not to step into any booby traps.
Meanwhile the pounding continues. It starts well before daybreak and continues into the night. Smart bombs, air strikes, rocket propelled explosives, you name it! Civilian services, as is the norm, have been the hardest hit. Government officials have begun soliciting bribes openly for doing the jobs they’re paid to do. Yesterday I had to pay the postman for bringing me the mail. Its all very disturbing, with perhaps the only comfort being the absence of an enemy and bloodshed. Because I am just an outstation student in pune, preparing for my exams, experiencing the blues of a diwali away from home. I’m told things are much worse in a city called Fallujah in Iraq . Heard of it?

Hmmm..

finally a blog of my own...iam a little apprehensive apart from being conscious writing my first blog...having used instant messengers for the better part of my life, there's an eerie feeling of the presence of an audience at the other side of this text box. i must also confess i feel a little claustrophobic navigating my words through this box...my earlier attempts at recording my thoughts involved the unrestrictive charm of pencil and paper... it is a much more appealing and animated medium than the internet can ever hope to be...sample for instance the freedom to stray to the corners and sketch doodles... to shoot off at an obtuse angle on a whim...to stop to smell the pages (tasting them wouldn't exactly be weird either)...dissatisfied by the contents roll the paper into a ball and throw it out of the window(or if suitably dissatisfied make a rocket out of it so as to land it much farther from your consciousness)...rage at the contents could even justify tearing them into shreds or better still burning them to dust. clicking the delete button somehow seems to pale in comparison.
That said i'm sure this medium has a few tricks up it's sleeve too. i've been noticing how it's induced me to use those conspicuous little dots thrice in succesion ever so often. although i fail to comprehend exactly what they could possibly constitute, i do feel a certain vibe with them like they're there for a reason and indicate a vague in definition but certain in feel punctuation. i'm going to call them thought punctuations. And just as with the flow of thoughts i can't really assign a rule to them...so they shall stay and appear as and when they will themselves to.
Each passing sentence i feel an urge to apologise to the apparent audience for the path this monologue(or would this be a soliloquy?) is taking, probably out of an innate desire to churn out something that would appeal to them. The desire to please is a disease cultivated in mankind part by family and most by society, and i've seen it assume plague-like proportions in myself. Perhaps that's my reason for being here...i would like to fight it...take refuge here...use this platform to just speak and not be heard...to be heard and not be judged...and for those of you still on the page...thanks but you really didn't have to...

namastestu

Om Gan Ganapataye Namaha
Vakratunda Mahaakaaya Suryakoti Samaprabha
Nirvighnam Kurumedayva Sarvakaaryeshu Sarvada