CHAOS BY DESIGN

This is the story of the anorexic catholic girl who wouldn’t even eat the Eucharist. The dyslexic who was exceptionally good at reading minds, the obese girl who ate nothing but her words, that bald guy who always hanged at the barber shop and the gay guy who liked making ‘that’s what she said’ jokes.

The story begins at the end of the life of a child in his old age. In one of the million dots in the milk-way galaxy on the third rock from one of the smaller stars, he was conceived by the power of ignorance between two humans who chose to share coital knowledge. A colossal accident of infinitely epic proportions; Infact, the word “accident” never before made more sense than that cellular level second he was conceived!

He called the womb his home for a period of something slightly short of the normal human gestation period and came out too early: Even his birth was an accident you see? What normal human has a birthday on the 29^th of February? A day sometimes more rare than the elusive bigfoot. His story will go untold in this story.

Family: Ignorant father saw the face his product and wished he more than just heard of the words “Trust Condom”. Wished he had switched the gun to safety mode because you see, in the ever raining city of ‘Storm’ every citizen has an umbrella. But the eras of genies and wishing wells were long gone. In his current space-time, pennies were no longer devoured by deep dark holes, they were given to the needy.

Mother? Never ever before in her life in death, had she been this emotionally confused. Love, shock, adoration and pain of course all manifesting at the same time. Hours of labour so just she could be able to hold and suckle this mistake that had haunted her for nine months.

She had too squeeze a 4 inch wide skull out of her sacred fortress that stands between the two pillars that are her thighs . 4 fucking inches! Sounds like a scene straight out of horror movie- right? Wrong! This sought of brutality has never even crept into the idea chambers of all the Hollywood movie directors. For you see, It is simply too barbaric of a thought.

Now back to the story of the atheist who owned a church, the artiste who never saw the bigger picture, and the barren mother of five. The end of this story begins with the last cry this child airs. Story of a child from a rich family who grew up in the projects; the same child who had no dad but grew up with a father.

A child who morphed into a young good looking man who passionately hated mirrors. The young man who had a lot to say but seldom spoke. The chap who took his time in the fast lane and same youngster who had friends as many as beach sand but always considered himself alone in a crowd. The happiest sadist alive and the realist who spent half his life in his imagination.

Could this be the same story of the fashion eccentric nun who married the drunkard who had never stepped foot in a bar? Yes. Yes it is. This is how this child viewed the world; a big ball of entangled thread that was only good for cats-play.

His best friend a haemophiliac

who had an odd fetish for knives, his girlfriend, the dumbest rocket scientist he knew and him, well he was that igloo that spoke of nothing but summer. That one mistake on that blue marble that made it less blue.

The story of the dumb dead man whose last words were “I LIVE”.

Taman Shud