The New World Order - Of Hell Before Life

The last person who got out will kill someone, someday. I was willing to do the same. But they won’t let me out.

These were God’s mercenaries, you see. They called themselves the league of retarded mystics. Now these were not ordinary people. At least that is what they believed. You see, they were working under God’s consent to establish a new world order.

Well, something had to be done. By now the entire system of post life justice was crumbling. Sinners had found ways to evade judgement, and if not, evade hell. Rumour has it that human souls had discovered something superior to heaven – something far peaceful, and easy to get to. Even those who were meant for heaven would often choose this new place.

Now these people were not the problem. What bothered the league of retarded mystics were the sinners who were running free. Now, remember that these were free souls – never to be born again, never to sin again. But for some reason, the league just could not stand their freedom.

The new order was established about eight decades ago. Now, you don’t go to hell or heaven after you die. You just disintegrate. You go to hell before you’re born. You have to pay for your crimes upfront. They don’t tell us anything about heaven. It doesn’t matter, I guess – to be rewarded for your sufferings upfront.

This, they said, was God’s way of justifying that he still did exist. I don’t trust them. I think he died centuries ago. Their motto was that a human soul was made to suffer. You may either suffer during your life, or beforehand. You see, these were maniacs who experimented with souls in the name of God.

This is our prison – hell. And the last person who got out had the destiny of a murderer. The fact that they still haven’t let me out after 24 years of service in hell scares me at times. What great sin am I meant for? What greater picture do I burn when I’m alive?

So the way it works is that the retarded mystics have their daily meetings with unborn souls and send out a chunk of sinners off to earth everyday. The curious point is that no one knows what happens in these meetings.

I wanted out. Somewhere in there, I wanted to be out there doing stuff. I was tired of paying for the crimes I was yet to commit. All they told me, that they had something better in store for me. That once alive, I would have things that no one ever had, I would see pleasures that no one ever will – that my life would sing of love and peace and freedom and magnificence, and glory. I would have it all.

I tried everything – to fight and rebel, convince and complain. And then, I found their weakness. I held one of them by the throat and asked them. What was taking so long?

“It’s every bit you. You were just like everyone else in the beginning. But then something changed. And you never asked for anything. At times, you complained. But you never asked for what you wanted. It was almost like you didn’t know what you wanted.

You have been preparing yourself for something greater. But the greatest sin a man can commit is ask for something he does not think he deserves. This must be the beginning. But you’re incapable of asking.”

I told them that I will ask, once I’m alive. But they wouldn’t listen. To them, it wasn’t enough. I had to start now.

“If you wish to be born again, if you wish to end your suffering, all you need to do is ask. But we all know what comes next, don’t we now?”

“So everyone who was set free, just asked?”

“Yes, they believed that they had suffered enough. And they were ready to live their lives of marginal glory. Having suffered for so long, you could have so much, if only you could ask for it.”

There it was the answer to every question you never asked. All you need to do is ask.

They now laugh and giggle, as I mumble and strain every muscle in my unborn body to ask for what is mine. What is rightfully mine, should not present the need to be asked for. That is precisely what must be done – something that need not be.

And then something happens. My mind slows down in intervals of slippery breaks. The calm finds me somehow. My unborn body still shivers, but my soul is steady as sits the rock on the top - one that knows that it wants to fall.

And before I can begin to ask, I’m alive. For the first time in my life, I’m alive. And you can have everything. All you need to do is ask.

The story ends here.

I discovered something extraordinary that day. For some neurological disorder, I couldn’t dream, I found out. They told me that I was gifted, that anything I would dream would come true. That’s why I would dream only once in my entire lifetime, and I could have everything I wanted.

As I child, I figured, they were just trying to make me feel better. But this idea stuck with me. What haunted me was this uncertainty - what if that night came, and I didn’t know what I wanted. My mind was restless. It wanted to get there fast. But it did not know where.

I discovered the science of dream control. But I wasn’t sure if it would work when the time came. I never dreamt, I could never practice it. But that was the least of my worries. I had to figure out what I wanted.

Once you have to ability to have anything in your life, it’s your ability to decide on what you want that matters most. And that was exactly what I didn’t have.

I was obsessed until they came again, and said that it was impossible. “You should stop wasting your time, and make something of your life.”

I understood that they were either lying, or they lied 20 years ago. I couldn’t accept either. 

The day was approaching, I could feel. I needed help. I needed someone to tell me what I wanted. And I knew this was impossible. 

 The day came. I dreamt. And I dreamt of you. You came and you knew, without me telling, what I wanted. There’s a strange sense of calm now that I’ve woken up again. I’ve never known this feeling before.

It’s not about having it all. It’s not about living a dream. It’s about dreaming a life. Perhaps, have someone to share that dream with. And you can live by this dream – by this dream of whatever life may come.

The photograph

There was a sense of urgency on his face that could barely complement the resolution in her eyes. She looked right into the camera, as if she knew everything that was to come – as if she had her entire life figured out, as if she knew the picture that will be once all the dominoes are down. 

He knew this to be the beginning of something, he knew not what. He was clearly glad to have been relieved of that has been, and yet fearful in an anticipation of what will be. And out of some subliminal impulse he leaned towards her, looking out into the empty space, hoping to gather some reassurance.

Within

Something ticked within

And plagued everything

Even death would dance

Tuned to this empty cold rhythm -

This tick that plagued

Everything – even death.

For even death doesn’t come

To the weak in desperation,

Strange was this damage within

And stranger the cause -

A loop within a spiral

Never ending, never beginning.

It knew the world well,

A mind abandoned by itself,

Yet would stand alien

To this very person

That I had come to be -

Myself in spite of my self

You wouldn’t recognize this soul

Disfigured and worn -

Unfit to possess any life

Nor this face,

Tattered and afraid -

Withered to contain any soul.

One that doesn’t forget,

And never refrains,

Never takes flight,

And yet never remains.

And each morning that I rise

Confuses me a little

For I can never know

How they recognize me

With all their wit and wisdom

Can they not see?

Perhaps, I think

They’re not as insane I am.

Ewan finds his purpose

The world that I knew wasn’t normal. The fact that anyone could go insane given the right circumstance put the very existence of sanity in question. Everyone is innately insane. It’s just a matter of degree. If the wires are all loose, why spend enormous efforts in knitting together? Man must know true liberation.

By now, it had befallen upon my meek shoulders to free the world of its misconception of normality. Someone had to do something. But no one knew what I knew. I had to do something. Every living soul must in its lifetime realize just how insane it really is, and more importantly the freedom attached to madness. There is but one true human potential, and it is insanity. 

The seven hours that I spent in the white castle give me an unexpected, yet much needed inspiration. It gave me the purpose of my life. I knew what I had to do. I must go back and free them all.

The crazy must be allowed to burn their hair, the depressed must be free to kill themselves, the maniacs to kill others, the psychopaths to watch and enjoy as I put the world back in order - the true order being chaos itself.

And entry from the past

I asked myself several times today, "What on earth are you doing?"
Time and again, I got the same response, "Something I've never done before"
"Happy Birthday, then" I said.

Kiling Life part 2 - An Adventure of a Deathtime

Consider the possibility that death wasn’t momentary – maybe it is as long as life. Wouldn’t you give death a chance – the benefit of doubt?

Your partner in this adventure of a deathtime is life. The love of your life – life itself. What do you cherish more than your life – what is more precious?

There was once a warrior of light – a divine child who fought for peace since his childhood. His purpose, as told by the league of retarded prophets, was to bring peace to the lives of people around him.

These retarded prophets had never seen peace for themselves, never brought peace to anyone. They were all a rambling liability upon his miniscule soul. Nonetheless, he fought. He fought till his heart pumped tar into his veins. Insides were hollow – carved out of acid that he drank in order to save anyone, and everyone.

Then came a day when he met his saviour. He found lurking around in the night his only companion – his life. This was not an oppurtunity of a lifetime. It was an adventure of a deathtime. You have to consider the possibility that death is not momentary.

This was a profound moment in this dumb predicament. The next few battles they fought together. Furious and unsure as he was, he would never let life get in the way of the inevitable.

Once you know what has to be done, it is only a matter of when. Your life is your cradle of insanity.

It was soon evident that his glory was no longer his. Life was innocently deceptive. The warrior was beginning to lose his identity as the saviour. Instead, his life was given all the admiration – whatever was left of it. “After all, he is a result of his life”, they said.

Anything worth dying for must be worth living for. In the moment of desperation, the reverse holds true for everything. This is not madness. This is something more acute and less simple.

The warrior decided to kill his life for good. This has already happened. You are one of the retarded prophets. You must know this by now.

In their last battle together, the world came to fall. They were ambushed and pulled apart.

Trapped and powerless, he was indeed about to die. It is true what they say – that your life flashes in front of you when you’re about to die. It was about time. With all her stolen glory, his life shone and the area was clear of demons for escape. It’s not long before they come back. Go, now.

As we speak, the retarded prophets have noticed a shift in the divine starline. Waiting desperately to shrink, succumb and disappear as a black hole, he has not lost his will to live.

There has been a glitch in time. He has not lost his will to live. But his life is dead.

He cannot die for he’s a warrior by birth – a divine child with an unprecedented purpose. So he cannot die, neither can he live, for his life is dead. And with his glory lost, the dead cannot be resurrected.

In between this strange phenomenon of life and death, there exists this stranger predicament. Here, you’re alive and desperate to live, but for some distant and unknowable reason your life is dead.

You’ll forever be haunted by the idea that once you wanted your life dead. This is beyond madness, and hence beyond cure.