Bat-Chewed

Here is a picture of Batmans ID.Chewed up like there's no tomorrow.

and here, do i need to say anything about an overexposed pohoto?

The Smoking Mackerel v/s Elda

The Smoking Mackerel v/s Elda

Well hello there ladies and gents and boys and girls. I had to say all that because you never know the exact nature of the people reading this blog. Here I’ll make a valiant attempt to reveal more of myself (not porn, pervert) figuratively speaking to the outside world which I think knows precious little about the thing that is me.

Characters taking part in this discourse: 1-The Smoking Mackerel (The Smoking Mackerel) 2-Elda

First The Smoking Mackerel shall introduce Elda, who happens to suffer from various disorders of the mind and also verbal diarrhoea besides other unmentionable and undiagnosed aliments. The Smoking Mackerel also likes to refer to people, himself included in the third person. Enough of an introduction already.

Now Elda will introduce The Smoking Mackerel. The Smoking Mackerel happens to be the online alter ego of Elda. He’s everything that Elda wanted and wants to be but never made it due to innumerable reasons. The Smoking Mackerel is smart, articulate and very appealing to many people, at least to more people than Elda. Now it would seem that Elda too has picked up the third person reference trait of The Smoking Mackerel. Elda likes the idea of having an online alter ego as it gives him the freedom to be everything that he wanted to be, even christen himself as he would like to. Here The Smoking Mackerel will interview Elda on a range of topics of general interest. (Questionable, eh?)

The Smoking Mackerel: hi there Elda. How art thee?

Elda: seemingly fine. But I’d like to ask you one thing at the outset. Why would I be conversing with a figment of my imagination? Is it because I found no one in the real world to interview me? Or because no one would want to? Or maybe I’m too complex a person and deem no one but my alter ego to be capable of unravelling the enigma that is me?

The Smoking Mackerel: shut up moron. Enough of you talk. You’re supposed to be addressing all statements to me. You may only address the outside when I tell you to. Fine?

Elda: well all right. Shall we get going then? Shoot the questions at me, actually you, no me. No I’m aiming at myself.

The Smoking Mackerel: damn right you are. To begin with, what is your real name?

Elda: can’t tell you that for reasons of online privacy and piracy. My name happens to be a very unique one. You’d be hard pressed to find even two other people with the exact same name as mine. Very rare and prized possession that is, see?

The Smoking Mackerel: since you happen to be talking to yourself I figured that you might be a little more forthcoming with such details. Anyhow never mind that. It can die under the rug. Tell me what’s your favourite colour and why?

Elda: I like yellow and lime green the most. Primarily because I like lemons and the general citron taste and also because I like to think of myself as some thing fresh, a breath of mountain air in city reeking of the smell of determination.

The Smoking Mackerel: so you lack determination and drive then?

Elda: well in a way, yes. I need to be egged to get something done. Now let me ask you something, are you really a yellow mackerel?

The Smoking Mackerel: why yes I am. Funny how you should be asking me that when it was you who created me and thought up all aspects of my persona and being. Now back to you before you turn this into an interview of me. I gather that you’re a very intense person beneath that cloak of taking life easy. Comment.

Elda: true, I am an intense person inside. I don’t laugh much, don’t smile much, and don’t compliment people all that much, even when it’d be deserved. Actually I’m a very morose person, filled with anger rage and hatred.

The Smoking Mackerel: hatred directed towards whom? Or in your case what?

Elda: hatred for all those persons whose very existence I despise. Those people who think that they have more than me in some way, people who think that they’re better than me. And use this as a vehicle to push me around, literally. And the worst part is that I don’t react enough, actually I don’t react at all. I just swallow everything and then dream up creative ways to punish those who sin against me without forgiving them of their sins. I’m too weak and too much of a chicken at heart to hurt anyone. It’s reached such a stage that I’m willing to get trampled over to avoid hurting other’s feelings.

The Smoking Mackerel: but if but if you loved others so much and value their feelings so much, how come you claim to have few friends? How come you hate albeit secretly, so many people?

Elda: it’s because I’ve found people and their relationships to be too shallow for me. I like to know someone well and I expect that someone to know me well too. Well enough to be able to second guess each others thoughts even. That’s a little too demanding in the age of instant gratification but I’m sure there’ll be that person out there somewhere.

The Smoking Mackerel: now tell me do you believe in god? In the existence of an ultimate being controlling our lives?

Elda: I believe in god but in him being in charge of our lives like a puppeteer? No that’s where I draw the line. I believe that destiny is made by you with help from god. I’m also open to the flip side of spirituality.

The Smoking Mackerel: the flip side? Evil? The counter gods?

Elda: not the god of money. I won’t ever make money my god but I like to be in the know of the other side of religion, the dark alleys down which no one dares to pass. I’m talking about Satanism and the like. I am definitely not one of them but I like to know what exactly it is that they do and why. What makes people lose faith in god, what they do after they’ve lost faith, the like?

The Smoking Mackerel: so you’re a spiritual person, eh?

Elda: spiritual not very but yes I believe in a god like I said before. Now lets not bore our (MY) readers with boring talk. Let’s cut the crap and get to the interesting stuff.

The Smoking Mackerel: I ‘m willing to oblige. Have you ever loved a woman?

Elda: is that the juicy stuff? Heck no, not up till now. Never been that connected to anyone yet.

The Smoking Mackerel: from listening to the thoughts in your mind I see that you don’t trust people too easily. Then all of a sudden you trust some people too much and then feel let down when they betray that trust.

Elda: it happens. Maybe it’s because I jump to conclusions too fast. Or maybe it’s because I’m a cold person inside searching for someone to melt my icy heart.

The Smoking Mackerel: changing topics I see. Clever con artist, avoiding answers to difficult questions. Should I be more probing then?

Elda: how can you be more probing? You are me, or am I you? Hard to tell these days.

The Smoking Mackerel: so you’re cold? Elucidate.

Elda: I’ve never found it easy to trust people or to like someone unconditionally. It’s always with strings attached. I’ve forgotten what it feels like to love someone (not romantically) and feel the warmth of the love reciprocated back. I’ve forgotten the value that a casual touch can add to conversation. I’ve become so caught up in defending my personal space that I’ve almost died and become embalmed in it.

The Smoking Mackerel: so you don’t like people invading the territory that you stake claim to as being only yours?

Elda: absolutely. I hate it. And see, there’s the trademark way of asking a simple question in a very roundabout manner. Maybe it’s this that turns people away from me

.

The Smoking Mackerel: they don’t appreciate your twisted sense of humour. Also I’ve never seen you laughing heartily. Try it someday it’s good for your health.

Elda: it’s kind of hard to do when you don’t find the joke appealing or particularly funny. I’ve been told that I laugh like I’m afraid to laugh. Bang on target.

The Smoking Mackerel: maybe it’s because of your smile or the way you look. Are you really afraid that you’ll look stupid in front of people?

Elda: maybe there is some truth in that statement of yours. I am wary or rather very influenced by what people think of me. Maybe I am afraid of looking stupid in front of people.

The Smoking Mackerel: but you’ve claimed in the past that you’re made of tougher material than that. You claim to rubbish what people think of you. “Forever trust in who you are” you told me.

Elda: that’s what I’d like to believe but I don’t know how much I live by that statement. My whole life seems to revolve around other people and their opinions of me, though that’s not the way I’d want it to be.

The Smoking Mackerel: comment on your looks and the package that you present to people.

Elda: uncombed hair, unshaven most of the week, baggy clothes, abuses galore. Who’d want to be with such a person? Who really like me anyway? Where are those people?

The Smoking Mackerel: whoa there, I’m sure there are plenty of people who’d want to be you.

Elda: there must be. I live like a moron in the public eye. As for my looks, I haven’t been endowed with exceptionally eye catching and retaining looks but I have other skills that I’m proud of. Like my writing and vocabulary. My power of speech and my ability to not die while addressing a large group.

The Smoking Mackerel: and the negatives?

Elda: I melt in front of pretty faced women and chocolates. I’m no good at setting goals, let alone working towards them though I like working under pressure. I’m also argumentative at times and I waste a lot of time thinking about rubbish.

The Smoking Mackerel: things you like doing, besides the usual?

Elda: among the stranger things that I like, I really enjoy sitting in a Bombay local train and letting it take me wherever it’s going while just looking out of the window. I also like writing about women’s issues and listening to someone talk to me. I just love being with myself, alone, among all things.

The Smoking Mackerel: alone huh? Maybe that’s why you came up with the idea of me.

Elda: maybe.

The Smoking Mackerel: moron.

Elda: ok this conversation seems to be breaking down into nothing, so until we’re in a better mood to divulge more about myself it’s adios amigos. Merci for reading.

The Smoking Mackerel: this is my interview and I call the shots here I decide when to end it and how. You can just sit there and be subjected to my whims and fancies. Ok? And no using francias see.

Elda (reaches into water, pulls out talking mackerel, takes cigarette from his mouth and suspends him in mid air till his gills are gasping for breath. Then as a token of friendship and to avoid the wrath of PETA dunks him back into the water.

So till next time,

Peace.

Phone Pictures

Crossing The Vashi Bridge

What shall we call this one?

He thought that no one knew him, and he was right.

He knew that relationships were too shallow in the place that he lived in. he didn’t want people to know about him; maybe that’s why he never bared his soul to anyone. Then he started to go nuts, questioning the doctrines of the church, wondering whether there was a god, searching in vain for the ultimate purpose. He felt used and empty like a tube of toothpaste with all of its contents sucked dry.

He wanted someone to listen to him, someone smart and intelligent, he thought he had that someone but then distance came between them, reducing their interactions to the yearly chance meeting.

He felt guilty, but did not know what he was guilty of; he had lost his power of reasoning and began on the journey to insanity with the quixotic irrationalities that his kind loves to ponder. He thought he was smart, but then he began to doubt that too. He lost faith in himself, in his abilities, he couldn’t trust in who he was, he had no idea himself. He never did anyway. He started to explore the occult, the flip side of sensibility, the forbidden fruits, what he had never tasted. He wanted someone to save him, someone to save him from his sin, to exorcise his hell. He’d been searching in vain. Was his heart still alive or had it frozen over many times? How many times, no one knew.

He had forgotten how to love, how to see the good in others, how to appreciate the simple things, how to be happy. He was so entirely consumed with his remorse that he had forgotten all that.

He felt surrounded with fools, one among the rest, one who wanted to be different but never quite knew how. The rebel without a cause, they called him, rocking himself to sleep. How long was this to continue? No one knew, not even him. He knew they kept him in the dark, he knew they were all pretenders but he could never fully realize that.

He kept his secrets to himself, feeling almost like the Stone Age man, without an outlet, a means of communication. In spite of living in the age of communication, he felt so without it. He was not like the others, not like one of the plays. The voices in his head started to drive him over the edge, the edge he could never define.

The Grim Reaper.