Sunday, February 6, 2011


They say the voices tell us and we do it. In the Town of Silence we hear them inside our head first and next we put them into action. Action is a virtue we are told. No, it’s not something that needs to be told. We know it like an instinct. There’s the voice of  reason and there’s the voice of intuitionThe best of us know its dividing imaginary line is an illusion. The best in all of us, I’m impelled to correct. If you know our history you will see it’s full of contradictions. There was a bohemian at one point in it. He was ugly to a point no one desired himHe taught our ancestors. Strictly speaking, not our direct ancestors, he was sold to us for change. Who cares. He taught among other things the merits of inaction. Those spectators heretofore not having heard merits being attached to nothing other than action called him a usurperThey put a spear through his heart, dismembered his carcass, and left it for pigs to feed on. There’s a version of this tale for babes written a century or less after that reads he was buried and resurrected on the seventh dayThey painted a portrait of him pretty too. A once usurper was declared a hero. He was made a red herring to a grand plot no one could see the end ofHow could you if you followed a straight line when it’s a circle. I do not, however, believe in bawdy miraclesA hero who’s dead remains dead. I do, though, believe a hero can resurrect inside a person long after he’s dead, even if he’s not the hero of our ancestors, like what just happened to me.

It all started when a voice told me to kill my mother. I’ve put into action what voices told me. I’ve killed a lover who betrayed me. I’ve also killed her father who wanted to avenge her. But this was something else. Kill your mother! I want inaction. I’ve found there are too many of us wanting inaction. Too bad because if that’s true, and it is, we will be hunted down soon. There cannot be choosing against action, not so many at one time. I learned from most of them that they did not want to act against their worst enemies. Hearing that I thought I must be a very bad person.

Lately, I’ve become so obsessed with seeing patterns in chaos I’m often called apophenic. If I kill I will be killed. My sister is smarter than me and I know it. You may think I’m not killing because I’m afraid I will be killed in return. You are wrong. I love my mother. I’ve seen the action and its reaction. It’s a pattern that never ends. I do what a voice tells me to and my sister does what her voice tells her to. You got that? It’s a vicious circle carved in blood and gut.

In the mean time, I’ve established that I possess not one soul but two, one for purgatory another for paradise and I am close to finding when exactly a person lives these. It cannot be plain like living it one at a time. Do those worlds connect? Can there be peace between the two? Such questions make my endeavor harder. There are, however, things that warrant my equal attention - like friends. They keep me from my goal. Perhaps...I will never find answers to questions I ask. Perhaps someone else will find them. We have chosen at this point to do what the most of us think is prudent. We are one thousand of us. We were nine hundred and ninety nine of us until my sister joined us. She’s my twin and so far since her induction I’ve only had suspicion concerning her joining us. In less than a minute we all in unison will jump off this cliff. Our bodies will dash against those rocks waiting for us. Some of us will smash our heads, some of us will open our guts. Some of us will die instantly, some of us after minutes of agony. We’re going to jump all the same. We are too good for this world.

My sister screamed wait. I watched my friends withdraw from the edge of the cliff. They sat down. Their body shook as one big tic. I’m not afraid. I stand at the edge. I asked my sister why. She addressed all of us. She said we all wanted to choose against the voices but we did not. That we wanted to ignore one voice and heed another. That we ignored the voice that told us to kill and heeded the voice that told us to kill ourselves. We concurred she was right. We are now to go back to our Town of Silence. We may be killed before the setting sun rises again. We may be tortured. We will defend ourselves when there’s call for it. We may live a lifetime. It’s not for me to tell. Certainties aren’t for the likes of us. I just wanted someone to know if there’s that some other people we are told are out there. Please understand that it's not a cry for help. If there's anyone who can take care of us it's ourselves. I did not, however, think I will end it like this. That I will not end my life. I’m standing at the edge and dropping my device. Thank you for listening to my voice...



  1. Voices sometimes are inner....thanks for highlighting the same in the form of a blog

  2. Thank you, Pramod. Thanks for reading and commenting


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