Her burgeoning seeds of love, set adrift in the mirthless sea of cascading frivolity, now scudded along the kowtowing shores of residual chimeras, refurbishing the clockworks of its haranguing brio and restraining itself from perfunctorily emitting monaural cries for amorous philandering lest every chthonic abomination, agonizingly beautiful, indomitably sweet, and the compelling inducers of pensive pleasures, from her distant past be resurrected again. The foreshore that threaded its way between the sea and the sanguine assembly of edified edifices was wilily turgescent with the spirits of those who sought neither the promise of gratified pain, to enervate dormant bodily secretions with, nor the conformist scabbards of amoral delectation, to be skewered into for easier management of cadavers lost to the irresoluteness of the mind.

When, after much deliberation and impassioned colloquy with the creator of this triptych of life, I withdrew my munificent stance and threatened to destroy what moiety of this design still bore the motifs of his revered sense of life, he roared with rage, seething, raving, spitting and fuming at me for having maundered away at his supposed probity, eschewing his power by my mere ascendancy of will and awakening within the frigid shimmer of his soul his rather invious capacity for seething violence.

Into his fabrication I was banished into, with a name and a face as the only offered perquisites to aid my humble prevalence in his world of gullible ideals, with such vile expositions of morale from his end as would deem his own dead mother unholy for a decent putrefaction, with hegemonic clauses losing its glamour in the face of what meaningless affrays the populace of his world were gearing their skills at discharging intolerable fulsomeness to endure.

I distilled the wary advantages of my laconic slant and assumed a middling demeanor, edging the magnate of the cosmos to impose heavenly doom on his delinquent and mutinous subjects.

“You unconscionable sapien, you who have let pervade an incorrigible miasma of dolour among my disciples, and the itch for a truth that cannot be scratched into existence, within every unthinking spine that I have conceived, you deserve to flounder in and slither about this malodorous excretion of erroneous intellect, writhing in the greatest torment unfathomable, for your wounds from the bayonet attached to your ego will only percolate deeper, impaling your loathsome gut and shearing off your arrogant strife, never letting it be healed by your resolute injunctions against surrender in this fractured province of your own making.”

“Their morals were frangible at best, and the notoriety of my truth stands to testify against the anonymity of your lies.”

“You iconoclastic pest!”

“Your affiliation to sycophancy infiltrates through your flattery laden insult.”

With that, his fractious temper lost all semblance of a godly import, lost its bilateral bearings, and, devoid of devout blandishments, withered timorously into wisps of unafraid molecules that commingled with telluric particles, diffusing into space with sincere ardour, perfuming every apoplectic clearance and autonomous interstice with a modicum of benevolence.

Thus transpired the events of my sacrilegious crusade, an account of which I have attempted to foster from memory and recount assiduously within the cogency of beloved words. I now am safe, of the closest association with literature, engineering intellectual pleasure out for myself, and as a secondary corollary, to my fellow tellurians, consuming the most wholesome epicurean luxuries, upholding the trophies of reason, venerating the inevitable beauty within the field of cymatics, and transcending the valedictory cues of time, never stopping my search for the woman whose drifting saplings of thought had quelled the stoppage of life itself.

Aravind Deepak
The Unconditional Maverick

About Aravind Deepak

Diligent dreamer. E-mail:

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