~Spero ergo sum~™

September 30, 2007

(2) A hungry wail in the hail

Filed under: Sobriety,Stories,Whatever — Teal @ 11:30 am

“Big Deal.

Mascarenhas got demolished … Leave it to those prima donnas and pricks to make a deal out of it … and go to the nearest place to gorge or drink. I never needed them anyways. With my bird safely and snuggly tucked away in my garage, I watch now, and watch with wonder as the hailstorm showers small rocks of ice … demolishing and putting dents on every car in sight.

Hmmmm. Sometimes these things that we buy with the money we earn doing the things we hate the most are the only ones that seem to stick around. People seem to just come and go , like seasonal fruits. Momentary to the core.

Is everything in life a bargain?

I’ll like you if you like me. I’ll hang out with you, if you do the things I like. I’ll hangout with you all the more if we actually end up doing something worthwhile with the common hobbies that we have. When we are not doing anything worthwhile, we could always walk up to the nearest pub and get totally wasted. That again only counts if u stay sober enough after 7 straight shots. I know I can. Jeez, most ppl cant.
If despite the sick sychophantic act that you put up, I actually end up liking you, we might actually end up bonding … sheesh .. I honestly wonder who coined such a term or a concept!
If being with you exasperates me, or think I am pretty bored with who you are , or who I think you actually are, I will dwindle out on communication. You aint worth my time or my effort , once you like me…

Dont you even try to judge me. I represent the core of humanity. The sole purpose of our creation. Selfishness. I know there will be many people out there, wondering how the fuck can someone be so, well yeah, this is ME.

I am barenaked and open to everyone I see.

All the people I meet, dont mean a thing to me. I was under the impression that maybe at one point , at some point I might actually end up meeting someone who might make me think otherwise. But the bottom line is this.

Most of us, infact I would say all of us are spoilt brats, just dying to be pampered , dying to be doted upon others. shit … that is so pathetic if true. It makes me puke to think I was of that kind. Som made me feel this way, and opened my eyes to the other side. Thank you, you fucked up creep.

If you look good, have enough money and are “accomplished” enough, you’ll get enough company to keep you from boredom. The money can buy you your home theatre, your woofer car stereo and your shiny bike. The money can pave way to any vice you choose.

Lol … look me … getting all philo and shit. This world is full of fucked up losers and users.”

Ashok Sarangapani closed his journal, after a long perusal of his perfect cursive handwriting. He walked out into the snow on that blue monday morning.

He then found himself running 5 miles on a daily jog … watching everything with a smirk on his face.

Life has made a cynic out of me, he thought.

He took the 10 flights of stairs to the terrace. Everything else around him seemed so diminutive.

“The world is my terrace. The things , the people mean as much to me as these tiny things I see.”

He stretched out his hands and uttured a loud wail. The tears of anger streaming down his cheeks froze on his high cheek bones. He turned around to the asbestos sheet, now punctured with the near perfect dents of the hailstones.

Here’s to you Som, my dearest.Here’s to one fucked up life.

Ashok Sarangapani took the elevator back down and headed straight to work.



  1. I dont get it, but it is interesting, curiously dark and mysterious. Explain it to me sometime…ok?

    Comment by Rain — October 1, 2007 @ 5:38 am | Reply

  2. i agree with rain

    Comment by abhi — October 1, 2007 @ 9:52 am | Reply

  3. @ Abhi:
    I’ve hyperlinked the first part of the story. This is the second chapter.
    @ Rain:
    Yeah the story unfolds in mysterious ways! 😉

    Comment by Teal — October 1, 2007 @ 12:16 pm | Reply

  4. “Ashok Sarangapani closed his journal, after a long perusal of his perfect cursive handwriting. He walked out into the snow on that blue monday morning.”
    So much reminded me of Orhan Pamuk.
    I like this .

    Comment by Pamuk's fan — October 6, 2007 @ 6:34 pm | Reply

  5. Your writing reminds me of Orhan Pamuk. Very well written.

    Comment by Cool guy — October 8, 2007 @ 7:55 pm | Reply

  6. @ Pamuk’s Fan & Cool Guy:
    Both of you seem to have mirrored the same sentiments. Never read Orhan Pamuk, but thanks, I’ll take it as a compliment 😀

    Comment by Teal — October 11, 2007 @ 11:15 pm | Reply

RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

%d bloggers like this: