Ginger drafts...

Human beings have been deriding themselves by their unparalleled acceptance to inaction, albeit in a state of dubious oblivion. They have no regard to the universe at large. They have become the objects of their own compunction, only they are occupied with the contemptuous profligacy of life to an extent that they are making themselves unavailable to the occasion. Occasions that bosom in them the premise of life, occasions, those transcend the comprehension of a mortal with miraculous life inexperience. This lack of contempt to the inescapable maze of seemingly resourceful life, lack of reverence to the inanimate and wondrous enigma that lies outside the reaches of a whole life's mockery have rendered them unworthy of introspection. It appears that, as children, humans always possessed the enthusiasm. Be as it may, this naive enthusiasm instead of manifesting itself into incorrigible and incessant prayer to finding answers, has made an ideological transgression into the realm of in...

CHAPTER 1 This is freedom-to loose all hope is freedom, sinking deeper into the perpetual darkness, all his vaguely familiar emotions relented, he felt the ease with all the demons that hitherto laid contentions on him let him go, he was emerging victorious and his mind remarked upon the paradox of the cynical observation 'victorious' in the realm of an otherwise labyrinth of overwhelming darkness. he is now the lover of his delusional paradise, he in this state of absolute power over his world albeit in the confines of his powers of observation of the real world, the fertile imaginations guided almost by nothingness, succumbed to the ruler and the ruler finally finds a way to accomplish his demonic deathly hedonistic pleasures. Seldom is a person blessed with the rare hallucinating spectacle of seeing oneself in the dream and being conscientious of it too. He was both flattered and disturbed for taking the bait of dream's confidence. He got so disturbed that his mind tried...

Novel is alive. One can’t betray its refreshing brilliance in capturing the reader’s attention. Novel communicates with the reader insofar that he appreciates the enchanting artistry in it. A good novel leaves with the readers it’s impressions that can at times be titillating, but are otherwise very thought provoking. To define novel as a story that merely mirrors our day to day life can grab the attention of some novelists who would make it abundantly clear that they are apoplectic at that placid observation. According to them, a novel has more to offer than the day to day happenings that we are very much connected to, they talk about emotions that pervade their novels, they talk about morals, and they talk about taking chances with life to see if they can get away with it. They argue that only characters in novels can be heroic, only novels consummate in happiness. What does a novelist require other than the basic prerequisites of knowing the language? A novel has characters, a plot ...

Tempestuous colloquies encumbered by an atmosphere of desire to seek consensus from all the participants that make it possible for such a gathering demand for an objective debate. It’s quite rare to find a person prioritizing his times of solitude above gatherings that prepares one to embark on a ride of eternal bliss. Every gathering has its moments and the participants make themselves a part of it either for the sake of it or because the mere thought that an alternative is available at their volition did not occur to them. The former ones are content with the occasional pride that they intend to take out of gatherings for invariably, they are the major contributors and this makes the investment that they make in such an inclusion debatable. Later ones are the deluders, they prefer to abstain from prioritizing their activities in the false pretenses of acting disingenuous. Doing this, they choose to alleviate themselves from the responsibility that is bestowed onto them for no one but...

Acknowledgement of beauty is the sincere appreciation of the inimitable exuberance of the possessor in question. To misconceive this artistic tendency that has deeply rooted itself in the intelligence of human mind insofar as it has found roots is inane. Art has an existence that can't be ignored, can seldom be procrastinated in letting it find vents, can but be deterred by the dubious, seemingly pestilential forces of an otherwise putative society. Art has suffered more than any other entity in the last century. For art to assume holistic sense apprehension in the mind of an intelligent being, to regard art in the form of beauty and beauty to envelope art in its convenient grip, acknowledgement of cerebral intensity with an utmost sincerity is needed. This sincerity demands to empty eulogical prerequisites of all the artistic fragments and assume a monolithic entity. Art with its intensity can be but languorous in its approach insofar to locate the vents and purify the intelligen...

I have utter contempt for a man who is not passionate about the work he does; I am at loss for words to decipher the enigma of this world and its subtle nuances. Its really intriguing at the same time quite disturbing to know that there are people who consider the world a mundane place. It’s inconceivable to think that people are ingenuously assuming the shred of indifference. Permit me to feel flattered for being bestowed upon me the onus of enlightening the kind of people that were ostracized for centuries by the society of the enlightened, the kind that were never kind to themselves, the kind that wished to liberate themselves from all the desires that besieged them perpetually. History tells us that the people who managed to think beyond the obvious were invariably rewarded for having put up the act of thinking. People who lived on this planet earth 2000 years prior to now, had enough food for thought. An incredible amount of friction existed at every step they took in the evolutio...

A wise man told me once, 'necessity is the mother of invention'. I would not go so far to question the impromptu intuitiveness of this wise man, but I can't resist myself from being inquisitive. It’s not in my nature to be enigmatic, but I suppose it’s hard to be otherwise. I want to believe that this life is just an illusion, its world's worst hangover. Strange things happen here, all of them can’t necessarily be pigeonholed into the sheer coincidence genre. I am making a potential allusion which carries with it enough sustenance to deter any living soul to possibly oversee the rhetorical question. Question that has the fortitude to decimate any attempt made to answer it. 3000 million years prior to now, this is the period when our planet started to get cool and the initial fillip, a pat on the back for life was first made. The color 'Green' made its phenomenal acquaintance with planet Earth. What began as a mere chance, a possibility of life on this planet tur...