Monday, January 2, 2012

Femme Fatale


Life in the subaltern reality is very different from that in uptown Manhattan. Now what is the difference? Well, there is some and then there is a blur and that blur is the similarity. So what happened when the crime took place? Well, there is always the criminal on the loose and there is always a victim. But then how was this act more grotesque, more gruesome, more ghastly than the other glaring acts of the gut. Haha, it wasn't. It was the same instinct. The instinct that makes us do things for no precise reason. And that is the very reason why we don't trust this instinct.
Reason, as it were, has become the raison d’être of our lives. Everything should be explained, defined and measured. That is why we have so many theories. And that is why I am crystalising this. Blah Blah and Blah. Now getting back to the crime. The girl who was worshiped. Well, she was defied one day. And the followers went on a rampage. But in reality she was never defiled. She told a lie. A lie to her lovers. Well, she has made a dozen of men her lovers. And men, well, I don't think we think from our brains. Ahem, I shall not spell it out.
So the lie was told and the lovers were provoked and the victim was sized by the girl. Yes, she was hot. She was what men call maal. And women call slut. What did he do to draw the girl's wrath. Well, you can't be more rude and disrespectful to an apple, then when you reject it from eating. And so he did. He was not willing to fall for her. He fended of all her advances and all her flirtations were flushed down the drain. And the wrath simmered and simmered forth to lick the man.
And after 12 nights it was all over. During the period the man lost his friends, his job, started having problems in his marriage. And one thing led to another and he was admitted to a psychiatric ward.
As he looks afar in the distance, his eyes glaring at the space, hollowness shining forth his pupils and grey lips stretching from ear to ear illustrate everything.