ILLUMINATIONS OF A MALADY CONTINUES

Sleepless nights

Aimless days

Difficult people around

Stuck

The same four corners

The same four corners

The same four corners

The same four corners

Get away

Get away from all

Break away from the prison

Run away

Fly and sing

Sing up in the air

Get out of the prison

And fly away

You, the one with wings

Must never had chopped your wings off

Now you are stuck

But still you can escape

No visible walls to the prison

Easier to escape

Just get up and leave

You sit too long

Don't think

Act

Act

Act

Be an actor

What a great profession

Actors become other people

Actors travel

Actors fly

Actors sing

You have the same sour puss demeanor for centuries

Centuries old

Centuries spent in prison

Man made prison

All things are man made

You make something too

Make wings

Colorful wings

Invent songs

New songs

Fly away singing

Write lyrics

Give a tune to it

And fly away singing

You are a bird

A singing bird

That's your name

You can't be confined in a prison

Too free for the four corners of the roundabout

Horizons are wide open

You belong somewhere up there

Up in the blue sky

Sky full of clouds

And rain

And ash even

But still you belong up there

Get up and break all imaginary walls

All fences must be broken

For your wings

Because your wings

Are delicate

Precious

Colorful

You are a peacock

In a prison

Like Oscar Wilde

A peacock of colors

Confined in a prison

You are luckier than Oscar Wilde

He was put in there by others

You chose the function of others

And confined yourself

Why?

What crime did you commit?

He didn't commit a crime either

They were evil

You must be evil

So evil

To put yourself in

A prison

Now the secret is revealed to you

You imprisoned yourself

You can remove yourself

From the self confined punishment

Why must you punish your self?

Do you know what crime did you commit?

I don't know

I search for the crime I committed

But I can't find it

You parched your wings

You singed them

You sat in a corner

With broken wings

Make new wings

Create them'

Colorful wings

A peacock with wings

With all the colors of the Orient

Colors of the East

Colors of the poets

It doesn't suit you to sit in a prison

With colors of a peacock

You need to get into Holland park

and walk majestically

Slowly and melodiously

So the visitors can stop and watch

Watch you dance

Dance before you sing

Sing the song of freedom

Not the song of slavery

Not the song of confinement

Sing the song of freedom

The freedom

No one gives you but you

Yourself, give it to yourself

Your long lost freedom

You are free

You don't know it though

You thought that you were a slave

A slave of tradition

Of color

So you imprisoned yourself

To save them the trouble

But you are free

You need to know that you are free

You are the one who cornered yourself

Within four corners

You are the one who is now free

Because you just freed your self

You want to respect the color of your

Peacock

The color god gave you

The beautiful color

And the voice

The melody of a song

Now sing

I made you a bird

I gave you a name

I called you ,"a singing bird."

And you sat in a corner

Thinking that you were put there

There is no one around

No one

All the other birds flew away

You took too long

The door of the, "PINGRA" is now open

Sneak out

Escape

Escape from yourself

And your self inflicted sorrow

You are a bird

You are not a human being

You are more beautiful than that

You are not cruel like humans

You have no sorrow

All sorrow is reserved for the evil human beings

They have the instincts of greed

Of accumulation

Of occupation

Of bloodshed

You are pure gold and silver and pearls and rubies

And diamonds

As precious as a stone with a song in you

But you are much lighter than a stone

Stones can't fly

That's why they are worn by the human

Rich and evil and greedy human beings

Lighter than air is better than a diamond

On a rich finger

People will cut that finger one day

To take that diamond away

There is robbery in the world

Your feathers belong to you

Your colorful feathers belong to you

Your song belong to you

Unless you want to abandon it

Abandon your feathers?

Abandon your color?

Abandon your song

You won't be forgiven

To take your freedom away

To take your song away

To take your gift away..........

That's cruel

And evil

And is a crime

Which is bigger than a prison

Bigger than all punishments

You were given freedom

Freedom to fly

Freedom to sing

Now fly away

And sing

Sing your songs

Sing your melodious songs

Your name is, "SINGING BIRD"

ILLUMINATIONS OF A MALADY CONTINUES

When the story is finished

The curtain falls

But some times the story goes on and on and on

And people are waiting for the curtain to come down

But the curtain is not there....

Its an invisible curtain

Its not falling

Even if it is...No one can see it

And no one dare leave ...

Because they don't think the play is over yet

The critic is really restless....

Oh! there is a critic there?

Yes...

How did he come?

He came....

They usually come to praise their own friends

He came to curse you

Why?

Because the curtain was not falling

And he had to go eat

Was he hungry?

He was starving

He wasn't starving for culture though

The culture was too long

The culture can be long

No nothing can be long

It has to be nice and short and sweet and amusing

The play was amusing

That's the reason the curtain was not falling

There was no curtain to fall

The story had ended

People should have left

People stayed

Its their fault

They should have left

We didn't force them to stay

They shouldn't even have come

We didn't force them to come

They came on their own

They didn't have to come

Some of us are lousy playwrights

Some of us are really lousy and long

Very long and Un-Ending lousy playwrights

All of us are not Angles of America

Some of us are the devils of the World

We write devilishly bad plays...

Yes we do.....

No one has to come see them

Neither critics nor people....

Who needs them

We don't need the free papers of America writing bad reviews about us

We already know that we are bad

We are bad playwrights....

I am a bad playwright

I call myself, "We."

Because I am a queen

Not the queen which is liked by the drama critics by the way

The queen who writes bad plays

Actually, "I' I mean, "We" don't know how to write a play

The play is always long

Always tedious

Always boring

Laborious

Political

No structure

No format

No plot

Too long

At least those are the announcements of the drama critics....

The experts..........

But we already know we are bad playwrights

The worst of the worst

We don't need the critic to tell us

We already know............

We don't need the critic

Nor the audience

Nor the curtain

Nor the falling of the curtain either

Our story is going to go on and on and on

You don't want to hear it

Don't come

Simple as all that...........

We don't want you

We don't need you

We don't care

Our story is long and tedious and laborious and boring and political

and its going to go on and on and on and on

Like American wars....................

ILLUMINATIONS OF A MALADY CONTINUES

Now an hour spent on the useless activity

of malfunction of the machine

This time the printer

Its either the printer

Or the ink

Or the attachment

Or the mismanagement of the opening of the attachment

What attachment?

Sound romantic

Doesn't it?

Attachment............

Attachment to whom?

No attachments please

We are the busy democratic, Isolated, Messed up. angry, very angry

Generation

No attachments please............

The expansive machine is not working

Never working

Never functioning machines

Always something wrong

Always.........

Either with me or the machine....

Mostly with me........................

Now what ever I was going to write on this f****ing machine has gone out of my brain

Now I am angry as usual

Because I am one of the most non functioning f****ing machine.....

Nothing works

Nothing is right

Nothing can be right

Its all my fault

Off course its my fault

Well, off course

I give up

I give up

I give up

I quit...................................

Malady will never quit though...................

Malady will continue

And the illuminations of the malady will continue too..............................

ILLUMINATIONS OF A MALADY CONTINUES

Have to change life

Good life

Is it?

Bad life

Is it?

Have to change

Change life

Not happy with it......

Need to change the routine

That's in case there is one

Is there one?

A routine

Is it there?

That's a major problem

Have a routine

Only having coffee in a cafe

And after that?

Confusion

Frustration, unhappiness

Should be happy in my unhappiness...

There are lots of ass holes

Inflicting all kinds of pain

And torture

Please don't think about them

Please don't talk about them....

Only the thought

Not the action

That is not so conducive

To the mental health

Ideas must be put into practice

The ideas which come from a thought

Thought and action

That's it..........

Action is missing

And that's the cause of depression

"TRue vocation of a man or woman is the intelligent

use of freedom."

Some one said that...........

I read it somewhere.........

No one can force anyone to do anything

Whatever people do,(most of them) is their own

Choice..........

"Freedom shouldn't make you sad or despondent

but joyful and happy. Freedom exists for its enjoyment"

Some one said that..........

I read it somewhere...........

"Aided and abetted by whoever you are with"

Don't worry, you are alone....

Use your freedom wisely....

The world is going to belong to you

But its a hard world

Will you need to know everything you can

to get along?

Yes, you will need to know everything to get along

and to understand at least some of it...."

Some one said that

Yes, I read it somewhere..........

Don't read too much

You will be lost

There is far too much to read

Don't think too much

You will be lost

There is far too much to think....

"THe wisdom of the world lies open to you

Just waiting for you to tap it....I envy you."

Some one said that

I read it somewhere..........

Don't read too much

You will go nuts

Don't think too much

You will go nuts.......

You are always answering questions

Don't

Ask questions, don't answer them

When some one asks you a question

Come back with a question like

'Well- what do you think about that?"

Great questions never have straight, Yes, or NO answers

'Let there be nothing grim or forced."

"Be serious without being glum."

"YOu want to........

NOt that you have to."

ILLUMINATIONS OF A MALADY CONTINUES

Can't go there right now

Too early to be at the gilded domesticity

And its not so gilded either....

Its just the tedious domesticity

A hateful trap....

To reduce your sorrow

I will give you another dollar

"Thanks. But if only the dollar was able to reduce

My sorrow...."

Oh! your life is so painful

"You didn't know that?"

Other people's needs have become our

Fires....

And their desires to build have become our

Ruins.....

The bombs rain on the sleeping children

To make the powerful nations secure in their

Opera houses.....

They say, "THey are threatened by the human terror

while listening to Mahler and Brahms...

The children of terror will die in their sleep

If they were lucky...

Or will live after loosing their limbs, their eyes, their brains

On fire

In the hell fire called, "Life" their, "Tiny life."

Their tiny existence...These tiny babies

Are a threat to the bombers and to their

Countries...

They fly so far away, so, so far to

Kill....

To maim...

For their security

Its too much

Far too much

This ugly reality

Stark ugly reality

I must not stare at it

At this stark naked, ugly reality

One must live inside of a dream.

But how does one capture the dream

If one can't sleep at night?

Sleep has been murdered

Life eventually became an aberration

All strength, all will sucked up to the

Anxiety of loss...

Loss of a mother

Loss of a father

Loss of a home

A brother

A sister

A loss of a bazar full of beggars and flies..........

Came for an adventure

Not knowing

Not knowing the scheme of things

The adventure ended before arrival....

The anguish took over and

Lasted for so long....

That must be the adventure

In the free world

Constant, gnawing, prickly anguish.................

A MALADY CONTINUES

How some time

Some people come all alone by themselves

To the cafe and order a glass of wine

And drink it quietly and sit silently

And think.............

I wonder what do they think about?

Happy things?

Sad things?

Disturbing things?

Cheerful things?

Remorseful things?

Regrets?

Sorrows?

Shame?

Pain?

But they sit silently over a glass of wine

And think...............

I can't do that

I never order a glass of wine in a cafe

When I am alone

And I don't think...........

I avoid thinking in a cafe

I read a book in a cafe

And scribble.................

I come to the cafe to avoid thinking...........

My thinking keeps me awake

All night

I think at night...........

All night

While I toss and

Turn.....

All night

I think...............

He is sad

He is thinking

His thinking must be sad

He is alone

He is thinking

His thinking has to be sad

His thinking is all alone by itself

That's so sad......

All roads blocked by fences

The fences can suffocate

Why?

Its a prison

What will people accomplish if

they do escape the prison?

Nothing

Death maybe...

They will be shot

And if they don't escape?

Nothing

They will die

So why put electric wires o

On the top of fences?

To execute them

But they are going to die

Inside any way

Doesn't matter

This way they can't escape....

They have to perish inside

That's the law of the prison

He is now smiling

The sad man who was having a glass

Of wine all by himself and looked

So sad before

Wine cheered him up

He is now smiling

I should have

Wine in the cafe too

And wine at night

Before my thinking

Project to cheer me up at

Night........

Instead of tossing and turning

with the thinking"s sadness...........

Nine days?

Nine days, it took you

To wash your hair?

Too long

Far too long...

Its a sign of depression.

"I am under treatment

Right now...I used to not

Wash my hair for a month

Sometimes six weeks..

Some times two months...

I was ashamed to confess it....

But now I am under treatment

Tha's why I washed my hair

After only nine days...

You are that depressed?

I was

You still are...You still are..

I wash my hair everyday

'But you are bald"

Yes, but I washed my bald head everyday..

I am a healthy human being with a bald head

What's the point of having all that hair

And make it a source of your depression?"

"Its not the source of my depression,

Its the result."

'What's the source of your depression?"

'I am a foreigner."

'All foreigners don't wash their hair for months?"

'I must not sit next to a foreigner ever....

Their head must be full of lice."

'No wonder no one likes foreigners,

All that thick black hair and lice roaming around in it...

Gee I have to go home and wash my hair."

'You have no hair and you are not

A foreigner either, you have no worries...

No worries and no lice in the hair and no hair.....

'You are blessed."

"To be bald and still in your own country?

'I would take lice any day if I was still in my own country....

In-fact everyone in my country have lice in our hair....

Because of the lack of water.....

'You stole our water."

They all died

All great writers died

What a pity...

I only read the dead writers

"Why?"

I don't know of any great writer

Who is still living.....

All living writers are here to please

One group or the other....

That's not greatness

Thats publishing....

'Its called, "Kiss-ass technique and manipulation

Process.

Greatness in a creation is far, far away

From a calculated effort of manipulation.

Whatever comes out of the soul...

Whatever is scribbled down

Innocently, honestly and passionately

Matters....

It reaches the soul of the one still breathing.............

White people are so

Blond

'But that's the color of success."

I guess so....They are so white and so

Blond

"And so successful."

I guess so..........

The guy sitting alone

Drinking wine by himself

Is sad again.

He needs to order another glass of

Wine..

Good for the owner of the cafe

That people are so sad and alone..............

"I have given up on my stomach."

'It has now my permission to be

Extra fat."

A MALADY: ) Continues)

Every place has a formula

which needs to be followed

to get ahead,

to be successful

Didn't find that formula...

Didn't look for it...

didn't know there

was a formula

still don't know

there is a formula

and its a particular one

She can't

She thinks she can...

but she can't...

Things are spreading

Spreading in all directions

Its difficult to control

Its like the dust

When it spreads

The dust particles are hard to catch....

Hard to control

They become part of the air

Air is hard to control.

Is all of them different looking people

With appearances different and not so different

From each other...

Expressing almost the same kind of sentiments

To please each other

To be accepted by the group

To not create any disturbances

Or lose a job

They all belong to the same democracy

Which has the same lukewarm acceptable expressions.

People still smoke

But they don't smoke inside a cafe

What's the point if one can't smoke inside the cafe where one

Is having a cup of coffee?

But there are rules to be obeyed

One has to be concerned about other people's health

And welfare...

Oh! really?

What about the health and welfare of the ones killed?

Killed in the war?

They are not human people

They are the enemy

The, "Other"

The distant,"Other"

People call me the. "Other" also

Yes, they do.......

Yes, they do.......

Then, you are the enemy too...........

All the ambitions crushed..

That's for sure

Absolutely sure

You are certain of that?

Yes, certain

What were your ambitions?

No idea of that

No idea...None.

But whatever they were ...

They were crushed.

A day of success will perhaps come

Perhaps...

Certainly it will come

Not so certain.....

It didn't come yet...

No, not yet

But it will come

Death will certainly come

That's final.

That's the final success...

We are all waiting for.....

I am not

I am waiting for the other success

Which other success?

Oh! its raining again...

And I am without an umbrella

'I wish that was my worry too."

'I wish that was the only worry I had

to deal with on this rainy day...

You are so blessed...

Your worry is just the lack of an umbrella........

ILLUMINATIONS OF A MALADY

AGGRESSIVE MEANS

You have to acquire by aggressive means

and that's all

There is no other technique-

You want something?

You need to go get it

Whatever-you want-

You need to get up and go get it-

What will the other think?

What?

What other?

What will the other think?

What does the other say?

What does the other want?

That's a sure sign of your own failure-

You can't worry about that...

If that's your worry

Than your are only going to sit alone on the couch, get fat,

fret and be Un-happy all day..All week...All month...All year..

All years to come my dear...............

RESOLVED

Unbelievable

Undisciplined

something again and again

What are you selling?

Nothing

So?

Nothing will come of nothing...

Ok...

So don't worry then, if that's ok-

Ok.

Great

Everything resolved?

No, not yet..........

CORE

They lacked and still lack a principal core

But they behave that they are fine

And its me who is totally wrong

If they ever admitted it that perhaps both of us were and are still wrong

But no...They are right

Its me who is wrong and always wrong..

I had to take care of it long time ago

I had to announce to them loud and clear.

'Hey guys, he is my son and any one who is not nice to my son

won't expect kindness or love or whatever else

comes with societies morality bound traditions..

If you don't respect my son's dignity then why expect affection from my side for your brats?

Sounds fair?

Doesn't it?

You need to be generous, hospitable, kind, caring warm

That's in case you want the same from me for your sons....

And that's the end of it

Take it or leave it

All this should have been done long time ago

You can't be cruel and phony alone

Its aloud for me too...

all of us are born cruel

Its not your pleasure alone

Its a bit late for you to be number one in callousness...

A bit late

Right?

Of course

But of course............

SUBSERVIENT

Totally selfish and mean bastards

And still want to have the upper hand

You should be so regretful to have put yourself

in that subservient position.....

You didn't understand it perhaps...

Yes, for sure, no understanding of anything at all

Very naive and subservient

The end of you honey in the Western World

Yes, for sure the end of me

So many times the end of me

Since the arrival, the end of me...Since I stepped off that plane...

The plane which crossed the Ocean to bring a subservient person to the Western Civillization

Oh! the land ing brought the end of me

The boarding that plane brought the end of me

The landing brought the end of me

And the subservient relationship?

That got stronger and stronger and stronger....

The Western World loved it, right?

But of course.....What is better than a subservient being obedient.......

You didn't know?

No, I didn't

You didn't learn?

No I didn't

Shame

Yes, shame.........

I didn't actually understand it

I didn't actually understand any thing

Oh! I was a subservient

You are not now?

(SILENCE...SILENCE...SILENCE)

No answer to your question..........

No answer

Unfortunately, I don't have an answer to your last question.

ILLUMINATIONS OF A MALADY

Now there is no need

no need for inclusion

The intention of inclusion is only

to full-fill a need

the need of the one who wants to include for the purpose

which will accommodate the need of the one who wants

to include.

Its not for company or social hour or for pleasure.

Its purely the need of the hour.

The hour when and where some work must be done.

The work which is most important concern and the motivation

of the hour.

When that hour is passed, the need is over.

Its not the warmth of companionship.

Its to kill two birds with the same stone

BIRTH OF A POEM

The poem comes out of your inside out

All blood and veins and guts...

How can one eliminate the beautiful from the ugly?

The sight is revolting, if not only disgusting and repulsive...

But than the depth of the thought is all.

Isn't it?

The pain of the moment...

The birth of the poem, when the guts soaking with blood

were turned inside out.

AFFECTION

You can't fake affection

You can't have business with affection

Affection makes you no money

Business does...........

Love is not about calculating how to use the other......

The other who is capable of love and you are not

Its like a clear glass.........

The clarity shows what's in it....

Affection shows.......

NEGATIVE

You have to do something positive out of the negative

You just can't eliminate the negative from your life

It will keep coming back

From all directions........

How many directions can you turn away from and still

reach your destination?

Keep going...

Keep embracing the negative

and turn it into an opportunity for yourself.

Its up to you to that for yourself.

All is up-to you except your death.

HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAA

You have to take care of these people

and the remarks they make which offends your sensibility...

If you don't they will keep doing it and you will keep reducing

your worth and self esteem...........

No fucking thing is worth it, worth reducing your self esteem

No diamond or a myonaise soaked tuna sandwitch, they call,"lunch"

Don't ever give any one ever the chance.........

You hear?

Nasty people around you all your life

Take care of it now since you only became aware of it now...........

Now, it took you that long to know that people are nasty?

CAMUS

A person of sun

Water

Fierceness

Senses

Uncomfortable within his own skin

Constricting ideological precision was fitted on him.

"Neither be killers nor victims." Camus

"Nouveau rich pharisees of justice." Camus

ROUTINE

Have to change

Change life

Good life

Is it?

Bad life

Is it?

Have to change life

Not happy with it

Need to change routine

That's in case there is one

There is none.........

That's a major problem

Find a routine

Have one........

Only having coffee in a cafe

That's the routine

But after that

After what?

Having coffee in a cafe

After that?

Its all confusion after that

After having coffee in a cafe...

Its all confusion after that, frustration, unhappiness...

Actually that's the routine

Unhappiness and confusion after having coffee in a cafe....

Should be happy in that routine

Not many people have that

They all want that

To have coffee in a cafe

They work 9 to 5 all their lives just to have that

having a coffee in a cafe

And that's your unhappiness?

Be grateful for that unhappiness

Be happy in that blessed unhappiness

DAY 109

Oh! how I envy you.

You, who get up early

in the morning

and go to your office

work all day

and bring a check home

at the end of the week.

I, instead have no profession

no trade

no office

no vocation

I go through useless

time consuming anguish

Oh! yes, never ending anguish

and bring home no check

neither at the end of the week

nor the end of the month

nor the end of the year

and still call myself a,"playwright"

WELCOME HEART ACHE, SING FOR ME

Back from anguish

Back from anxiety

Back from worry

Back from fear

Back from an Un-known Un-comfort

Bacj from where we started

Back to the past

Back to the memory

Back to the memory of home

Back to the memory of home

In a country which is now fast becoming a ruin

Now it will match my memory o9f last thirty years...

which became nothing but a ruin of a memory

A memory of destroyed, mutilated, damaged, precious memories

Who destroyed those memories?

Us...Who else...

Made so many stupid mistakes

Left parents behind to die

Left home behind to be plundered

Left a courtyard full of jasmine tree to dry and then die....

Why would those mistakes, those tragedies, those self imposed exiles not disturb us now?

Why the heart ache not come back?

It never went away...

It always stayed...

It keeps seeping through the superficial calm

Which actually doesn't exist

The calm never existed

It was always the pain of what we left behind

Why did we do that?

That's the question

That question will remain till we die....

And than it will still remain

With the memory, the sorrow, the sadness, the pain, the loneliness...the loneliness...the loneliness of the West while the East is no more......