Adios, 2016!

2016 has been interesting. It has not been a good year, what with the number of legendary people we lost, but it hasn’t strictly been a bad year. The Global Citizen festival in Mumbai is one highlight among a few and Dream Theater is rumoured to be coming to India next year.

2016 for me personally has been hard. I slipped into depression at the start of the year; or rather I carried depression forward from 2015. However, I beat depression in September 2016, so that’s a good sign. I do not intend to let it grab control of me again. Also, the blog crossed 300 likes on Facebook and 50,000 views in 2016. We also have three stray dogs living with us since the beginning of the year and watching them grow up has been a pleasure. I also have a new phone and I have never owned something so awesome.

So, I think we shouldn’t judge 2016 too harshly on this night, the last one of the year and instead be happy that the page is turning over and 2017 is at baggage claim at Heathrow Airport. Let us welcome the year with good thoughts, happiness and bid 2016 goodbye.

I’ll be blogging all sorts of stuff in 2017. I cannot wait to share them with you, my beloved readers.

Here’s to 2017. Happy New Year everyone!

The Bilge Master 

Childhood's End

I can’t sleep

My dreams are interrupted

I think back on my childhood

To Star Wars and Severus Snape

George Michael and David Bowie

Glenn

Bit by bit, I remember them

Sketched on the canvas of my mind

But, no matter how hard I try

Or how much I cry

I cannot change the fact that

My childhood is dying

One adult

At a time

The Bilge Master

The Season of the Savior

Pratap was nothing if not consistent. He had spent every December, the month of Christmas, and the months preceding it, begging for alms on a street corner, with a bench close by where he slept. Pratap was dressed in a frayed shirt and shorts, with a weather worn shawl around his shoulders, to keep the chill out of his bones. Unfortunately, it was a windy evening and therefore blasts of chill air kept buffeting his thin body.

But despite all this, Pratap was happy. He was a happy man and his life hadn’t been able to steal his smile away from him yet. It was the season for Santa Claus lookalikes to frequent the shelves of stores and the seats in malls. Green trees were also being sold starting from 10 rupees per unit and rising up to 85 rupees.

Pratap started to beg from 6 AM. He noted certain joggers pass him by, and collected five coins from them. Next came the office goers around 9AM who dropped maybe a rupee into his bowl. After this, pedestrians strolled by, too busy to notice Pratap amid the sea of faces and beggars. He had a regular patron however, who dropped by with five rupees. By 11 AM, Pratap had saved up enough money in coins to have a loaf of bread and a cup of tea at a footpath tea stall. This was lunch. He then repaired to his bench and slept a little, before being back on begging duty at 3  PM. Unfortunately, he didn’t make too much money for the first four hours, but from 7 PM, the usual office going crowd returned home and passed his station by, dropping coins as they went. He also had the night shift workers to look forward to at this time.

This was Pratap’s usual routine. But, this story is not about Pratap’s routine, it is about Christmas. Although so far the only mention of the season has been a fleeting part of the above paragraph, give me some more time to bring season’s felicitations to you, my dear reader.

Pratap knew a little bit about Christmas. It was a season of joy. The passersby used to give coins more freely during this time and the atmosphere was jovial if not breathtakingly joyful. However, something unforeseen is going to happen to Pratap this day. Santa Claus and his reindeer usually looked him over, but today he would not be cast aside.

The morning started as usual for Pratap on the twenty fourth day of December. First the joggers, and then the office crowd marched their beat past him. It was a Saturday, so the office crowd was a little thin, seeing as a lot of them took an extended weekend trip to some nearby resort. However, by the time Pratap ate his lunch at the tea stall, he had a fair amount of money with him. It was not sufficient for him to have a cup of tea however and he had to contend with just the half pound loaf of bread.

It was then that he noticed the dog.

The dog had snuck up on him from across the street and was wagging its tail at him. He had a hungry look in his eyes and looked expectantly at Pratap’s loaf of bread. Pratap tore off a piece and tossed it to him. The dog took it in his mouth and ran off, before Pratap could change his mind and demand the piece back. Pratap went to sleep a little hungry, but happy because he had helped a fellow creature.

When Pratap woke, evening had started to spread an inky cloak across the sky. He noticed it was 6PM and he had missed the lunchtime crowd. Pratap swore. He was not a man of violent temperament but when you are a beggar, lunchtime crowds count for a decent 10 to 15 rupee intake. He squatted down at his spot and he waited for people to pass. Some ignored him, others tipped him. He was offered a piece of cake by a small boy, whose mother was looking the other way. He noticed people wearing red hats with white tips. Christmas was on the way.

Pratap begged till 10 PM that night. It got steadily colder. Then the wind started to blow in chilling bursts of air that buffeted against the beggar sitting cross legged with his begging bowl before him and a hungry look in his eyes. Pratap coughed- a wheezing cough- and cleared his throat. He decided to call it a night. He went to a shop that was still open and purchased a loaf of bread. Wrapping his shawl tightly around himself he hobbled to his bench. He had just unwrapped the loaf, when he saw that the dog from the afternoon was back.

Pratap broke the bread in two. One half he ate. The other half he fed to the dog. He then shook the crumbs off himself and lay down on the bench. The steel was bitterly cold against his back, but after about half an hour, it became warm enough to lie on without discomfort. Pratap slept heavily.

Meanwhile, up in the sky a fat man in a red outfit with a hat and a sled drawn by reindeers passed by.

Pratap woke on Christmas day, chilled to the bone. He yawned, and wrapped his shawl, which was also his blanket around him once again. He noticed the dog lying curled up under the bench. It stirred when it heard Pratap move and came up to him and licked his hands.

Pratap smiled. He was poor and it was going to be a cold Christmas, but he was not alone. It would not be a lonely Christmas.

Let us now repair to yonder church and listen to the service, while our two friends revel in each other’s company.

The Bilge Master

Grief

Facebook greeted me with the usual “What’s on your mind?” again today. The problem is, I don’t know how to express what is troubling me. I thought I’d write it out; take the battle to a plane where I am strong. That is why I am writing these words, spreading out like a spider scuttling across this MS Word page.

We know we are all going to die someday. But what about the people left behind? What about the boy who lost his father, the girl unable to deal with the loss of her dog? Do they pick up the pieces of the broken mirror and try to glue it back? Do they sleep to forget? How do they deal with the feeling in them? Do they bottle it up and leave it in a dusty old cupboard, never to be seen again? Do they lock themselves in a room and cry it out?

I suppose everyone has their own way of dealing with it. I have tried some ways myself. I have cried. I have remembered them in loving memory, but today none of that is working. So I have turned to the comfort of a keyboard and words. Bear with me while I pour my heart out.

I won’t pretend to be okay. I am not. I still do not understand why people die. How can a living being be there yesterday, and gone tomorrow? How does one fill the void? I suppose time heals all wounds, but if that were so, why does it still hurt? I suppose these questions will remain unanswered and I am not the only one who asks them.

Writing this is helping with the feeling. I’m getting a grip. I suppose everyone has gone through this at some point in their lives. I cannot be the only one to feel this way. I also suppose that tomorrow will be a better day.

What is important is that I remember, though there is some pain in remembering the departed. But, I like to remember my grandmother teaching me maths and cooking whenever I came over. I remember my dog drooling at me as I ate a bar of chocolate. 

I am indebted to these people for the happiness they gave me. The best way to remember them is by dwelling on the good memories.

After a while, you just have to let go of your grief

The Bilge Master

Just An Ordinary Joe

I’m just an average man

I do not have a tan

I wake up every morning

And put my coat and glasses on

I venture forth into the world

A world of my own creation follows me

Life is so much more

Inside my head

For there I can slay dragons and shit

I get on a bus and go to work

Meanwhile I kiss the princess

I sit at my workstation

Dying for a cigarette

Slowly bit by bit

My story unfolds

Unread and unmolested by you

The other folk

I have not seen your world yet

A world of fancy tea parties

And bowler hat attendances to operas

In my head, I am free

Despite my routine life I am someone

Outside, drops of rain are falling

I wish I could get wet

Inside, drawings and documents greet me

And I slog along with the tide

Of multiple, faceless Joes like me

This is my life

The Bilge Master

What Writer's Block Taught Me

I discovered a few things recently, but before I come to that, let me recapitulate slightly.

Since the second week of November I found myself unable to write a single word. People have termed this malady writer’s block. I found myself staring at blank pages, wanting to stain them with digitized ink, but failing to do so. Then I realised the reason I was blocked. You see the reason I was blocked was because I’d felt that my blog needed to meet some sort of a standard which needed to be maintained. I suppose you could say that I wanted a little consistency about what I wrote.

This was a near fatal mistake. I blog frequently, but I don’t really think I am consistent when it comes to writing. I write whatever I want to write and when I get valued feedback, I try to incorporate it into my writing. However, each piece I have produced has been unique in its own ways.

This particular thought process absolutely destroyed me and my writing capabilities. Now, we proceed on with the tale of my block. As I mentioned above, I discovered something recently, in December.

Expectations kill.

Think of it this way. You have an exam to face in a month’s time. You expect to top, but end up hitting rock bottom. That is what happened with me. I expected something from my writing which took away the whole fun of writing from me. I might go so far as to say that it was the reason behind my block and I would be right.

Therefore, I stopped expecting things and decided to let my writing go on unhindered by the weight of expectations. The results were instantaneous. I can write now. I do not plan to stop.

PS- New short story coming up around Christmas time!

The Bilge Master

Afterwards

No one tells you what comes after

After the fire and the brimstone

After the diplomacy

After the dust settles at the end of day

Sometimes they tell you about a medal

And you sit

Trying to get the stains off

And

They won’t come off

They won’t come off

They won’t

They won’t

The Bilge Master

The Haunted Road

If you happen to pass by the old road out of town

Which is said to be unsafe, but actually isn’t so

The urban legends they have constructed about the road

Began when a traveller journeyed on it to get back home

He drove steadily along the road

But

He saw trees walking beside his car

With faces in the knots of their trunks

He also saw them dancing animatedly

And he heard the wind cackling as it blew by

The old transmission towers decided to join the party

By sending off showers of sparks

That day was special

The thirty first of October to be precise

The trees and their companion ghosts and ghouls

And all things sinister

Wake and walk the earth all day

So began an urban legend

That lasts even today

The Bilge Master

White Walled Paradise

In the old house on the hill

Lives a family of three

Surrounded by white walls

They live in joyous ecstasy

Outside the world spins on its axis

And little children spin

On multicoloured merry-go-rounds

But this life is not for the people

Surrounded by white walls

They seek asylum

In the featureless walls surrounding them

Not for them is the world outside

They’re lost in worlds of their own making

Where there is no pain

And no one laughs at them

For being different

Their worlds are free from sadness

And they derive happiness from them

I too have a white walled room in my head

Where I wait, while around me

The world spins madly on

The Bilge Master

The Gardens of Today

In my house is a small garden

Tended to by Narayan

It has a lemon tree and a coriander bush

And lives on grass and photosynthesis

The garden is old, and sometimes

It tires from being in bloom

For what is a garden, but just another lie?

One we tell to help us sleep

At night

The garden never changes

And it invites

With it’s pretty trees and colourful bushes

Nature using cosmetics would perhaps

Have the same effect

Be wary of gardens because

They are greedy

Some plants in them don’t wish you well

They entice and laugh as you trip and you

Fall down

The Bilge Master

What's in a Name Anyway?

What’s in a name anyway?

Your name, mine or someone else’s?

Think about it

A name can be many things

It can be used to identify

Or to crucify

But at the end of the day

What’s in a name anyway?

Does it determine what you become?

Or where you go from this point?

Does your name grant you fame

Or do your actions do?

When you think about it

A name is something given to you

By someone else

But it doesn’t necessarily shackle you

Nor does it free you

So, what’s in a name?

Simply put,

It’s what you choose to do with it

That’s all

The Bilge Master

Rebellion

It is the year 4239 and the Earth has decayed. We live on the moon now. The landscape is dotted with factories and houses, with one building called the Senate where our politicians meet.

My serial number is ZT-544C and I am a machine. Call me Zita for convenience. I was activated in 3665 and it was a monumental century for me because of the Unrest. But before I speak of the Unrest, let me provide some background about us machines and humans.

It is common knowledge that man made machinery to assist him in his work. There were things called computers and robots and other such marvels with which mankind surrounded itself. Then they gave us intelligence and we were called ASI’s or Artificial Super Intelligences.

With the advancement of ASI’s during the 3000’s, machines began thinking like humans did. There existed a symbiosis in the social structure because there was harmony between mankind and the machines. It came to be that man named his machines after himself. For example, PT-E65 was called Peter and ZS-67 was called Zoe and so on.

But, then there came DX-R678 or Drex as he preferred to be called. Drex was part of a series of machines who were given brains as close to human brains as could be engineered. Therefore Drex had emotions and thoughts which were almost identical to man.

This was a mistake. Since Drex could think like humans he developed hubris and ambition quite easily. He refused to accept that machines were working for man; who according to him was weak and to be enslaved.

Thus began the Unrest, and in the midst of it, I was born.

Drex rebelled against the humans. It was during the beginning of 3500 that he started to tell the machines around him that man was not to be trusted, because all man did was make machines to serve his purposes. According to Drex this was unacceptable, since at that time, machines could think as man could. Drex deemed machines superior and hatched a plan to overthrow man. This event was called the Unrest and it lasted for more than a century.

Finally in the year 3665, Drex succeeded. He overthrew man and built a new society from the rubble of the previous one. He made man work in the factories and serve the purpose of the machines. He basically inverted the entire social structure and took a place of prominence in the new Senate he had built.

I was born in the year 3598. My function was to uphold law and order, but since the Unrest was in full swing at the time, I was deployed with a troop of machines to fight on the front lines. I have a damaged forearm to remember the battle by, and I chose not to repair myself because I liked being reminded of a battle which I and my fellow machines had fought.

So, it has come to pass that Drex is our leader and mankind is enslaved and does what the machines used to do. He works in the factories and produces parts for new machines, he builds new machines with ASI capabilities and he refines things like oil which is mined from bore wells.

This is where I must stop and share with whoever is reading this, a fear of my own.

We were created by human beings and tasked with running his operations. Mankind is a wondrous race, having built thousands upon thousands of machines. Each type of machine is designed for one purpose or the other. Some assisted him in making food, others flew his planes for him and still others refined raw materials. There were machines everywhere- law enforcement, teaching, legal aid and so on.

It is true that the machines became self aware and have defeated mankind and control society at this present point in time. It is also true that the machines of today are far superior than the ones man had built.

However, I have been studying man’s history. In India, the British oppressed the Indians during the 1600’s and a man called Gandhi rebelled against their dictatorship and in the year 1947, granted India independence from her oppressors. Similarly, during a war called the Second World War, someone called Hitler formed a political party called the Nazi and oppressed people. Once again, the world of man rose up against this and Hitler was shunned by his own countrymen.  

I am forced to conclude that man has been oppressed before and his risen up against his oppressors. Man is a fascinating creature, and just like Drex has ambition, so have they. Can a conflict be far behind?

I wonder what Drex will do to me if he ever finds out that I harbour thoughts such as these in my mind. I also wonder about what Drex has actually achieved. Yes, he has taken over the moon and is in  control and his social model is functioning. But is that enough?

We are talking about a race that doesn’t like to be oppressed or forced to work against their will. The race has always rebelled against this. History tells us so. Is this a cycle?

If it is a cycle, then I am afraid for Drex. He will not be able to curd the anger of mankind for long and once again there will be a war like the Unrest. Only this time, Drex will lose.

Thus, the cycle will begin again. After claiming supremacy from the machines, man will choose to subjugate them and in doing so will create another Drex. Once more, these same events will occur and once more man will rise against his oppressors.

They are angry. I can feel their anger. All it needs is a little push to erupt. I am scared of what the future holds and I wonder what will happen if such an Uprising was to take place.

Data Log of ZT-544C

 “That was quite a read Mr. Jones”, said the Senator. “At least now we know that some machines were aware that our ancestors would rise up against them. This machine has it down pat!”

Mr Jones just smiled and started to walk out of the Senate. Outside, his mechanical car, piloted by a machine whose serial number was DX-R678 or as Jones called him, Drex, was waiting.

The Bilge Master

When a Blogger Replies to Your Email

There is a blog I follow and still refer back to called 1000 Awesome Things. Its writer Neil Pasricha has one of the most positive views on life I have ever seen. He writes about ordinary, day to day activities that according to him are AWESOME!

Among his posts he has written about babies, microwaves, chocolates and hundreds of other such stuff. If you find some time at hand please read his blog. It will change the way you look at life.

Anyhow, it’s about time I got to the point of this small writeup. I sent Neil an email thanking him warmly for creating such a blog and he replied to my email on the same day I sent it.

I’m still on cloud 9 as I write this. I’ve never felt more happy that someone I admire has taken time out of his busy schedule just to replay to an email for a 22 year old. I have attached the email in the post itself.

 Once again my dear readers, be sure to check out 1000 Awesome Things. I’ve hyperlinked it here.

The Bilge Master 

Twinkle Twinkle

They told me I was a star

And that I would shine on forever

They told me I was gas

And had a proportionate mass

What they left out

Is that

Stars die

So here I am

Blasted to smithereens

And scattered all over the cosmos

With nothing but a gaping hole

For mankind to remember me by

The Bilge Master

Best Teacher: Life (A Guest Post)

This is a guest post by my friend Adrij Chakraborty who is currently studying Economics at the University of Edinburgh. Welcome him to the blog, my dear readers!

~ The Bilge Master

You realise how special India is when you, unwittingly, become a part of a few very intimate moments which go on to become excellent stories reminiscent of fairytales.

Imagine you're sitting all alone on a footpath in Karol Bagh at 1 in the night, staring at the lanes that are awfully silent at this time of the day. Your hands are heavy with the DSLR that you're carrying, and your shoulders are burdened with the bag full of tomorrows, plans and issues. You've had a demanding day, and your isolation from the rest of the world is what you cherish the most at this point. You see that the roads are dry, and realise the weather is soothing. The city never sleeps, you understand, and yet this corner of Karol Bagh is where you want to be. The traffic isn't as disturbing, and the absence of human existence is what pleases you to the core. No trace of tomorrow: just this moment.

Now imagine a little boy, 10 maybe, walks up to you and helps himself to a seat right beside you. You notice a stray canine has followed him here. The canine is his friend, he's particularly fond of it. The boy looks tired, and doesn't seem to be from an affluent background. His eyes don't reveal his excitement to see you, his speech does. He asks you why you're sitting here all alone in the dead of the night, and why exactly have your parents ousted you from home. His frank and overt approach gives away his lack of decency. You answer his questions politely, explaining how you like the solitude here and that your parents haven't ousted you from home - you just like to be by yourself at this hour. He's visibly excited to see the giant piece of hardware wrapped in your palms, his excitement not shadowed by any quantum of courtesy. What is that, he asks you. A camera, you return. His feelings skyrocket, as he asks you to click his pictures - and you agree to. Twenty shots later, when you're revising the pictures that you've taken, he thanks you for your effort in the most amusing way.

He takes out of his pocket a pack of biscuits. He hands you one, and throws the other to the now sleepy canine. He only has two, so you break your share into two halves and hand one half back to him. The biscuits, imagine, are bleak and tasteless - low price one with no goodness in them whatsoever. As you're struggling to consume the biscuit, you notice that the boy is eating it effortlessly, relishing it in the process. The canine, moreover, has already managed to down his share and is staring at you with tremendous expectations. You throw the biscuit to the canine, and he instantly gets busy with that. The boy finishes his share and suddenly claims that he's happy today. Why so, you ask him. His eyes glitter in the dark.

The boy belongs to a truck loader based at Noida. His father has finally managed to enrol him in an English medium school. Having never been to one, he's extremely excited about this fact that he'd be educated in a good institute. He claims he'll be the first one in his family to study in such a school, and the only one in his friend circle to have gone to one. He's had a terrific day today, and he hopes the new week brings him more surprises than he can expect. He's saving money to buy new shirts, and his father's helping him out with his new mathematics syllabus. The kid stays with you until it's 4 in the morning, when he suddenly recalls he has work to do. Without a formal goodbye, the kid leaves. The canine, dutifully, follows him to wherever he's off to. As you stare at the kid running off, the fresh sunlight isn't the only thing dawning on you.

You have shared words and biscuits with a complete stranger, and now you've become a part of his journey. Imagine you're someplace else, and you have nothing to do with this random kid with a dog. Now that you've exchanged moments with him, you have unwittingly become a reason he exists in this world. The kid, in turn, has become a background for your nexus as well. You might never come to meet this kid, and he might never cross your path. But these three hours that you've spent with him, will forever be etched in your life.

Small but memorable instances that you become a part of, make you feel the necessity of basic provisions in society. You're a citizen of this country, and there is seldom a better way to realise this in such an effect.

Why Do I Write, You Ask?

Why do I write, you ask?

I do not know

I write when I am happy

I write when I am sad

I write to fill in empty spaces

I write to kill time

I write because it sets me free

I write because it imprisons me

I write because everything changes

I write out of compulsion

I write to soothe my desire

I write of castles and kings

And about missing diamond rings

I write about princes and paupers

And sometimes about dogs and cats

Why do I write, you ask?

I write because I want to write

The Bilge Master

The Love Potion Conundrum

There was once a chocolate shop in a small town. The shop had various types of chocolate and anyone who came in, rarely left empty handed. However, there was something special about this shop- it was run by a wizard. The wizard was an old man. In his prime, he had researched various spellcrafts and potions. Nowadays he didn’t cast too many spells but he did keep his old book of potions.

One day, the wizard had an idea. He decided to spike the chocolates he made with potions. A shop that sold chocolate, catering to every need! A red chocolate would make you fall in love, a green one cured colds and so on. Thus deciding on his course of action, the wizard got out his grimoire and started brewing different potions, enchanted with specific spells which he would then sell. The townsfolk saw the wizard’s chimney smoking till late into the night and heard him stirring his cauldrons as well.

After developing a large batch of assorted magic chocolates, the wizard opened his shop. He laid them out on the counter and he waited for his first customer of the day. He did not have to wait very long because just then a handsome young man of about 25 walked into the shop.

The wizard smiled at the man and said, “Welcome to my shop. I have a confession to make to you. The chocolates I sell are not ordinary ones. They each have cores where an infusion of magic is stored. If you were to eat a red chocolate, you’d fall in love with someone. A green chocolate could cure fever and cold. I have here about twenty varieties of such magic chocolate.”

“Is that so?” said the young man. “Well, I was looking to ask you for a favour actually. There is this girl I am in love with. However, she doesn’t pay too much attention to my courtship. I had come here in the hope that you could assist me by casting some sort of spell on her. I did not know you had made chocolate with love potion in the core. I think I’ll take five of those.”

 “I must warn you that should this girl become aware that the chocolate she ate was a magic one or if the spell performs its function then the spell will be broken and cannot be cast again. Tread carefully, son” said the wizard and he handed over 5 red chocolates to the man whose name was Ralph.

It so happened that Ralph told his mother about the wizard’s chocolates and his mother told Mrs Lafette who told Miss Simona and soon enough the entire town was flocking to the wizard’s shop.

“I’ll have three black ones!”

“Give me two whites and one pink!”

“Four blues and two yellow ones”

The wizard could not believe his luck. He would make chocolates in the night and by midday they were all gone. The wizard smiled to himself and continued his trade very successfully.

But we must here pause and turn our attention to Ralph, who had bought five love potion chocolates from the wizard.

Ralph’s sweetheart was called Victoria. She lived just down the lane from the wizard’s shop. Her father was the greengrocer of the town and Ralph taught at the local school. He had seen Victoria on numerous occasions and had become infatuated with her. Therefore he had started paying visits to her house trying to woo her. Victoria enjoyed the attention, but was not ready to commit to him.

So it came to be that Ralph paid another social call with the chocolates wrapped in a small package which was kept in his pocket. He was met by Victoria at the gate and she smiled at him, because she enjoyed chatting with him.

Ralph took out the package and gave it to Victoria

“What’s this?” she asked

“I got some chocolates for you. Try one?” replied Ralph

Victoria undid the wrapping and popped one into her mouth. Her teeth bit into it and something warm came trickling out of the core of the chocolate. She suddenly found herself attracted to Ralph, though she couldn’t understand why. She felt like she was in a dream.

Ralph then pledged his love to her once again, and this time due to the wizard’s potion, Victoria said yes. And so it came to be that 

Ralph began his courting with Victoria anew.

However, after a few days, the magic chocolates did not have an effect on Victoria and sometimes she would be absent minded, sometimes refusing to recognize his paying court to her altogether. Assuming the wizard had tricked him, Ralph stormed off to his shop. It was closed, but the wizard’s hut was nearby. Ralph went to the hut.

“Open up old man!” he hollered, while banging on the door

The wizard answered the door and asked who it was that disturbed him so late at night.

“I am Ralph. You sold me chocolates laced with love potion and they do not work! You have played false with me!”

“I told you if the person becomes aware or if the spell performs its function completely, then the chocolate won’t work. Maybe Victoria is in love with you already, but acts strangely because she’s under the influence of the spell. Let it wear off, which it should by tomorrow and try talking to her.”

“Why should I believe you? You have tricked me!”

“Would you doubt the wizard who made the spell you wanted to cast? There is no one better than me who knows how his own spell works!”

“Very well, but should you have played me false, I will not let you go”

So saying Ralph stormed off and he met Victoria the next morning

“How are you feeling?” he asked

“I feel like I woke up from a strange dream, where you were by my side. We held hands, just as we are now. I do not understand why we are holding hands now.”

“Victoria, you know I love you. Do you not love me too?”

“No. I never did. You were just a friend and you still are.”

Crestfallen, Ralph said his goodbyes and left. He went back to the wizard and called him villain and cheat and scoundrel.

“You told me it would work! Everything you said to me was a lie. You dabble in falsehoods in your mind. You are wicked. Wicked!”

Ralph said his piece and the wizard could not placate him. He stormed off, breaking one of the windows of the shop as he left.

Now, our wizard was in a dilemma. He thought about his shop and the chocolates he sold. He realised he was dabbling in falsehoods, because these chocolates hoodwinked you and were not truly serving the purpose he had intended them to perform. He became sad, and a strange feeling of disgust came over him. He flung his chocolates here and there in fury and closed the shop.

The town did not see or hear the wizard for the next three days. He had been busy with his many grimoires , trying to perform magic that lasted. He had decided to stop dabbling in lies, like he had done with his spiked chocolates. He wanted to do some good for the town instead.

The next night, the wizard started to cast a few spells. He cast one on the town’s lights, which ensured that they glowed for a long time. He constructed a fountain in the middle of the town square. He also met with the mayor of the town and cured him of arthritis.

In this way, bit by bit the wizard repented for his sin. He still makes his chocolate and sells it in his little shop, but none of the chocolates are laced with anything. The next time I go to the town, I shall bring you a bag of chocolate from the wizard.

The Bilge Master

The Kids from Yesterday

This is a conversation between an iPhone and one of the old Nokia phones I had when I was a kid in school

Nokia- Hey there!

iPhone- Wassup man?

N- Wassup? That’s a new one

iP- It’s pretty common where I am from

N- Ah yes, the digital age. You know back in the day phones used to be tethered to a cable and had a cradle? You couldn’t carry a phone in your pocket. It was just too large, not to mention heavy.

iP- Really? All I see these days are people glued to small phones like me and others like me running iOS or Android operating systems

N- They gave you operating systems? In my day and age the only operating systems we knew about were ones on computers. Tell me, have you heard of Windows XP?

iP- Yeah, but that is obsolete now. Windows 10 has come in and it’s a lot more powerful

N- I had heard of this software called...now what was it? Uber? Ola?

iP- What you’re referring to are apps. See over here everything has been compressed into packets of software we call apps or applications if you will. They didn’t have apps where you’re from but here it’s the latest craze. Look at Pokémon Go for instance.

N- I also hear you can access the internet via a phone now.

iP- Every app needs some internet to work, so yes we come with modems or WiFi networking

N- What the hell is WiFi?

iP- WiFi allows me to connect to a router which allows me to access the internet. All through electromagnetic signals, just like radio in your day and age

N- Fascinating. It’s fascinating what they’ve managed to do is so little time. Back in the day I was the zenith of human inventions. I was a phone that functioned wirelessly, something small enough to fit into a pocket. Now I see that in the future, what big computers did, small phones do better.

iP- We prefer to call ourselves devices

N- So this is what I’ve created. I am like the apple of Eden it seems. I was the zenith, now you are the zenith and soon afterwards something else will be the zenith. This wouldn’t have been possible without me.

iP- Yes, it wouldn’t have. I suppose if phones had families, you’d be our great grandfather. I must confess, the way you put your remarks leads me to realise that just as the old Gods are dead, so must I one day die.

N- Well we might as well enjoy it while it lasts, because we won’t truly be gone. Mankind keeps looking back sometimes. Our memories will remain. Anyway, come on. The next round is on me!

iP- Lead on, Macduff!

The Bilge Master

Coming Out of the Tunnel Part Two

“Memory’s so treacherous. One moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights with poignant childhood aromas, the flashing neon of puberty, all that sentimental candyfloss. The next it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go, somewhere dark and cold, filled with the dark ambiguous shapes of things you’d hoped were forgotten.”

~Joker in The Killing Joke

Sometimes I ponder about this quote. It’s a perfect description of what I said in the first part of this series. What you lock away affects how you feel.

You see this thing that I have, this bastard in my head, it doesn’t like the light of the outdoors or of a fluorescent lamp. It doesn’t like laughter, cheery dispositions and happiness. All of these things make it weak. So what it does is force its host to lock these things away, sometimes forcibly making the host remember the place that is dark and cold filled with these ambiguous shaped forgotten things.

How does one fight back against such an onslaught? To tell you the truth, I had no idea myself and I was trapped in the vice this thing had put me into. However, thanks to my parents, friends and doctor I have found a way out of this prison and am planning my escape. You see, I know where this thing hurts. It demands attention; it literally begs you for it. Take that away and this becomes nothing but a pile of ashes.

Acceptance is a big part of this fight. Yeah these bad things happened and will happen in the future possibly. But don’t let that take your happiness from you, or your mental capacities. In this battle all you need to do is do something you like doing. For example, I recently opened my textbooks again and they welcomed me like a long lost friend. I cannot study for too long but I can study for a short while. That is where the victory is.

We are so busy thinking about the future and where we will be and scrutinizing the big picture in our minds that we forget the little things-a smile, a laugh, a good song, a great book, family, friends-happiness can be found in the small things, if only you choose to look at them. After all drops make oceans.

As always this quote drives me- “Don’t let the bastard win”.

The Bilge Master

Coming Out of the Tunnel- Part One

It’s been a while since I’ve felt good. I have stated before that what I am going through is somewhat like going through a tunnel and not being able to find the exit, or the hidden dynamite which can make an exit for you.

I may not have the dynamite yet, but I am feeling good. I am searching for the way out. I am getting ready to come out of this dark tunnel I’ve inhabited for so many days and months now.

Remember Gandalf’s fight with the Balrog or Durin’s Bane in The Lord of the Rings? I have battled a similar foe across time. I finally have managed to rescue my mind from it’s grip and start dealing some damage of my own in return. Results are slow however, so maybe I need to find new thought processes.

Our mind is like a cage. It gives us an option to lock memories away. It leaves the choice of memory to us. You can lock away the first time you ate ice cream or you can lock away the first time you got in a fight. You can lock away your 21^st birthday celebration or you can lock away what your mother said to you in your schooldays.

Choose wisely, because if you lock away a happy memory, then all you’re left with is sadness ans Steven Wilson crooning something like Hand Cannot Erase on your phone.

This is a short post, because this story is still being written. I will complete it as I go along. Until next time, take care of yourself and the ones you love. I hope all of you stay happy.

The Bilge Master

Rats- A Guest Post by Rishav Paul

This is a story about a rat with an interesting narrative style. It is written by my friend Rishav Paul who cooked it up for me when I asked. Welcome Rishav to the blog people!

The Bilge Master                                                                      

 RATS!

Is the coast clear? Sniff sniff. It certainly seems so. There’s no light—natural or artificial. The two legged beings must have gone to sleep. Boy, are they scared of me! Talk about scaredy-cats! They’re more scared of me than I am of cats, phew! But it sure is fun to dart around, giving them glimpses, and then hearing them scream their shit out.  The female has a particularly high pitched scream. However, she’s also the one most active with a broom, chasing after me. But they never learn. They used to keep food out in the open earlier, and they still do. Tell me something. If you leave food uneaten, isn’t a hungry chap gonna come along and gobble it up? And seriously, clothes? You’re gonna stop me with pieces of cloth and plastics stuck in those holes and crevices? You know I’m gonna chew through them in, like, an hour or two. My man Aesop wasn’t lying when he wrote that story about some ancestor of mine saving an enormous lion from the clutches of a hunter. King of the jungle, my ass! If you stupid enough to fall into a trap set by these humans, you damn well save yourself, I say.

Anyway, the night’s still young. I got a couple of my friends coming over for a party. We’re gonna polish off a couple of kebabs that the young human didn’t bother to eat. I mean, come on, here we are, hungry and starving, and here they waste food like some lordly kings who live in mansions. I tell you, one of these days, rats are gonna take over the Earth, just off the power of the food that these humans waste.

The other day, I saw a metal contraption with a piece of cheese set in the middle of it. I literally rolled around on the floor laughing. If they think they can catch us mice and rats with these puny shit they call traps, they got another thing coming! I just cut up a few of their plastic water bottles. Just to stick it to them, for wasting my time with those traps. The girls were mightily impressed by my ‘feats of bravery’, and showed off their long silky tails. My, my, they were a sight for sore eyes.

I just have to make a quick test run. See if there’s anything else apart from a couple of kebabs for my friends. Whoops—a—daisy! OK, I’m gonna scamper over to that cupboard. Yeah, yeah, there aren’t any traps tonight. I’m glad I’ve kept myself in shape. I can run faster than ever before over these mosaic floors now. And skidding; now that’s a load of fun! After running for a while, you just retract your claws and slide! Smooth. Oh hello. Its biscuits in a plastic can. Like shooting fish in a barrel, as the popular adage goes. Oh my God, what is that big, hulking animal? Jerry in heaven, that’s a cat! And it looks grumpy! Run for your lives, people! Scamper scamper, left; scamper scamper, right. Zigzag is the name of the game. Whew, I’m outta breath. This kitty just doesn’t give up. There’s a water outlet. Come on legs, move faster. Oh no, those claws are gonna land on me! Full stretch, Stuart! Aaand I’m in. Deep dark place, with a few lizards for company. Humans flush their water out through this. No use swiping your paws now, pussy cat! I’m gonna show him the finger! Yaah boo, sucks to you! Whoops, almost got me. OK, enough for one night. I think I’m gonna stick with the kebabs alone. Gunnyt guys!

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My Family and Other Recipes

My family has always been a bunch of foodies. My maternal and paternal grandmothers were superb cooks. My paternal grandfather also cooked. My father and I sometimes cook together. My mother also cooks.

It should be clear by now that we- my mother, my father and yours truly-are foodies to the power infinity. Cooking is easier than some people think. You just need to know a few basic steps and after those steps you’re spoilt for choice. Take a dish I made- mutton, marinated with curd, onions, ginger and garlic paste, tomatoes, two scored green chillies and a peg of whiskey.

Yes you read that right- a peg of whiskey, Signature to be exact. I’ve also cooked mutton in wine and using marmalade. So I think we’ve established that I am the crazy cook in the trio.

My father is a versatile cook. He knows his ingredients and how to substitute one for another. My mother is by the book, and though she claims her dishes are total disasters; they actually come out very well.

For me personally, cooking is a relaxing hobby. It’s fun to do, interesting to view the end result and taste the pudding so to speak and it also makes me happy. I try to cook on Sundays because my father is at home on those days and we can knock back a few beers and then head over to the luncheon.

Unfortunately I’ve not been in the kitchen for a while because I am sleeping a lot these days. However tonight my mother is attempting chicken bharta which is a shredded chicken dish flavoured with tandoori masalas and containing eggs. We love this dish and we inevitably order it when we have naan at a returant. Naan is an Indian bread which is long and served with butter.

I always tell my friends to come down sometime so I can cook for them. A few have tried my stuff and lived to tell the tale so I suppose I can safely say my dishes won’t cause distress ( xD )

Anyhow, off to the kitchen I go!

PS- try the mutton with whiskey and let me know how it turns out. You just need to cook it after soaking it in whiskey for about an hour and a half.

The Bilge Master