Subway, subways and Intro to guest blogger L.Sauron
If time was tangible, it would have these gigantic dragon wings that would fly at some random speed you cant even think of(DUH! there’s always a number bigger than the one you are thinking right now)that would simply dump a huge pile of dragon poop on top of you every time he sees you. That’s my perception of time. You can have your own creative 2.0 version of tangible time (with updates)
Thinking about time, I was late today for my music class as the subway was temporarily shut down. The golden rule about Korea and classes or appointments is that Koreans hate it when you are late (just an observation). I am talking about a REAL inner hate. And they don’t hide it. Its not like in Nepal where you come to some meeting 15 min late and everybody will be relaxed, in “cocktalish” mood, everyone ecstatic about nothing, chewing gum and then you get hugged for just doing so. No. One minute late and you wish you could own a minute rewinding machine. You get this lethal silence for a few additional minutes, a million dollar frown, some amazingly understandable Korean curses and a quick smile to show he/she’s done. Fortunately, my instructor had to take the subway too soooooooooo he eventually ended up never showing.
Back in dorms I was eager to spread the news that the subway was closed. Subways are the lifeline for seoul city dwellers and I could not help but imagine people going nuts and running naked aimlessly in the streets.
Just ignore the last part.
Me: Man! The subway was closed today. Would you believe that?
Halal: Whats so special about it?
Me: There was a bloody accident. I had to take the stupid bus to school.
Halal: Ahhhh I thought it was the Subway that we went yesterday for sandwich. Oh Really? Not possible.
Me: Why would THAT even be news?
Halal: Caussse you are always thinking about food?
Me: *shuts up*
I have no clue about the intensity of the accident or what happened on the green subway line but I have to take a moment think that it could have easily been me who could have ended up inside. As far as reports state, the accident took place in the same subway line I always took at a very similar time that I always had to go. It is worth noting that life sends out these subtle reminders that it can change in seconds, that life could shit on you right there at any moment. Its just that we will have to keep ourselves happy as much as possible no matter how stupid we might be. It is high time I revisit my Insurance Company.
Moving on to the Guest Blog series:
Besides yours truly who will make sure to update the blog, there will be other guest bloggers as well to contribute something. But today I have someone special. Its my pleasure to introduce someone who’s been a brother to me, someone who I can really count on, someone who’s parents are friends of my parents, someone you end up sharing all the shit in the world in Balwatar's chiya pasal, someone who’s influenced me to think the way I have, someone very interesting indeed.
Guest blogger L.Sauron has been reading massive amount of literature books for many years now. Besides being the social butterfly and having some impressive musical taste, he’s reading and most notably writing skills are admirable. There were rumors flying around that he read the whole Lord of the Rings in a sitting, which may or may not be true but even if he did read half of it in one go, I will be more than willing to hang his picture on our university library wall with a label stating “GOD”. All the books that I have ended up reading were from his personal library, although small, is now slowly growing to include some very interesting titles. It was he who first showed me the “Motorcycle Diaries” which eventually influenced us in undertaking the Manang-Tilicho Trek after our A level finals. Unfortunately though, he couldn’t come along. We still have unfinished business with Rara which will duly be dealt with once I am done here.
Its important to understand that the following content will be quiet different to what I usually write down here. So you have been warned.
Without further delay here’s his first contribution
Killers, Rapists and Freedom: A metaphorical conclusion to Nepalese politics
Nobody cared! Everyone wanted a piece of heaven which was above the soil and deep into the sky clad memoirs of the mind. The scapegoats: Sweats and Tears.
The son of god was humiliated and his queen, raped. Such was the brutality that the heavens poured some rain to wash away the blood and the innocence of a virgin mother. There was thunder, there were hailstones and the frozen rain made cold waves throughout the summer. Then there was drought and the dusts powered the leaves like the snow covers a steep of the mountain. The frivolity of everyone’s predicament could be measured with the powdered grey leaves which could barely apprehend its own trunks. The trunks had changed with the dark of the times and ironically time seemed to pause.
“Creative Destruction” had transgressed into the subject of materialism, secularism, and right to express one’s opinion, which democracy so much treasured. “Creative Destruction” patronized destruction which again ironically failed to create. The jewels of a golden kingdom were stolen and divided. The queen. She was made whore.
And there were righteous people who thought their impressive speeches and word-plays failed to dance to the tunes of disharmony created by themselves. They solicited to the rule of the middle class and asked, “What is democracy without food and shelter?” and cunningly took sides with the rapists. The rapists had been subpoenaed and they waited for the silent judge whom all of the unlawful called Judge Dread. It was more of Judge Culturally Silent. The nihilists had failed to manipulate adjudicators who in turn were so silent that the silence engulfed the queens’ thunderous roar of misery and stupidly the judges thought that of it to be strands of reassurance.
The theater which has no answers has no right to be equated to the society and the culture. The cultures were ranked below gods who had mellowed into rationalization of human consciousness and ironically it wasn’t the civilization that tried to summonn the gods but the king, by offering gifts to the corrupt and mundane gods.
This is democracy at its best. It is when the neo-liberalists slam the doors of perception and provide justice through a marriage between the rapists and the queen.
Democracy is when the powdered leaves wonder when the gods will make the rain happen to wash off their dust. They are hopeless. Until then the dusts are viral and make the trunks weak. So feeble that the “roots” refused to live in a hope that death shall craft a new baby seed. The seeds of “universal humanity”. It was then that the forest echoed with laughter and sarcasm which they had perfected since the death of Marxism. They knew that the ultimate freedom was unattainable and a dreamy vision which they did not dare to incorporate into their lives. –“All destruction is finally petty and in the end life laughs at death.”
The rapists were so arrogantly ignorant that they happened to manipulate the killers.
You are a criminal, said the rapist.
The killer replied, “Then I ought to rape your wife”.
The rapist said, I would be obliged to kill your daughters.
The judges were silent. The queen in on the pyre. The king is at the temple. But the gods don’t care!
And it was the wind that polished the leaves.
And the ancient wanderer sings;
This, the truth, do not fear,
My adorable child, my dear!
And mankind shall now understand,
All their knowledge was but a grain of sand;
And all the ignorance once they had,
Of which they were so proud and glad;
Cannot help them in this need,
Darkness prevails in the devils lead.
you can reach him at: email@example.com