Another face in the opaque crowd searching for some translucence to diffuse and project his myriad thoughts through this utterly abhorrent state of lame rigidity.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

The Hunt

Gulp! Bang! Crash! Thud!

– silence –

Tick Tock! Drip Drop! Knock Knock!

– silence –

Creak! Whoosh!

His eyes were blinded by the Cimmerian hue. The deviant waves of the delirious Black Sea, forced their way through his nostrils and lips; the water mixed with filth and vitriol. Maybe, on the other side his eyes would be blinded by the luminosity, of lucrative possibilities of raw reflections that boast of their ephemeral existences in the delusory dimensions. The fluid soiled his torn clothes, fouled his breath, burned his throat, and moistened and charred his lips at the same time. Was THAT water? The acrid taste sprinted through his tongue to summon the participation of his senses that could send signals to his brain inferring the nature of the liquid. It was Urine.

“O’ sense of gustation. Liberate me.”


With not much ease he managed to stand up. His fatigued legs shivered. He started walking. He reached a cavern. He could not verify his presence in a cavern visually, though. He dragged his naked feet over the rocks. He felt someone’s breath on his neck. He shivered. Then he felt someone touch his hand. For a fraction of a second he was petrified, which probably lent some in(ane)-coherence to him to establish a camouflage with the stones around him; but it was overruled by his urge to run. He ran. He felt something sharp brush against his feet. He felt his warm blood gushing out of the wound. He stopped. He felt someone licking the blood off his leg. Scared, he started running again.

“O’ sense of tactition. Liberate me.”


Probably, he entered a hallway. The sounds of air resistance reached his ears. He turned back and forth to improve the reception of the sounds and then abruptly, with a frivolous intervention of an occult entity he was rendered immobile. But his fortification of quiescence was swiftly revoked by a harsh noise. A multitude of pins raced downwards, released from an unknown height. They hit some hypothetical metal obstacle in mid-air to produce simultaneous inseparable clinks. From there the pins came together and transmogrified into a sheet of glass and resumed their journey downwards to hit the glass floor and shatter into pieces to produce another host of clinks. He paused. He resumed walking.

“O’ sense of audition. Liberate me.”


He reached a room, probably. The smell of weathered wood hit his nose. The portentous wooden floor beneath him was not showing much promise. He walked carefully. The nauseating smell of his own sweat, blood and saliva was making him weak. He was on the verge of vomiting, when he was miraculously rescued by an overbearing smell of wet soil which shunned the stench away. And then the realisation dawned upon him that he was not walking on wood anymore; it was earth beneath his feet. An angelic fragrance met him. The fragrance came to him floating in the air, presenting herself be his mistress. She executed a quick exhibition of her skills of captivation. He followed her with carefree conviction, as she danced gleefully in the air and showed him the way.

“O’ sense of olfaction. Liberate me.”


There was no transition or translation. Suddenly, he was greeted by blinding lights. The incessant and exuberant radiance of the place purged every drop of exhaustion from his body and killed every bit of the decadent darkness that had seeped into his existence. After a while, when the light ceased being harsh and started being soft, he realised where he was. Giant plants bearing gigantic flowers towered over him. The flowers were beautiful. They spread an empyrean aura of unhindered prosperity that delicately disfigured the inharmonious elements born out of the excrements of the excruciating interferences of apparently realistic iniquity. His hunt for the utopian garden was over. He believed his eyes. He was in heaven.

“O’ sense of vision. Liberate me.”



Flesh and bones lay scattered on the ground. The plants(flowers) had shared their treat. It was eons ago, when a human had wandered into their territory, conceiving an outrageous notion of exploration, fuelled by dystopian imageries of a transcendent utopia.
He was just the second one. There are more to come.



Whoosh! Creak!

– silence –

Knock Knock! Drip Drop! Tick Tock!

– silence –

Thud! Crash! Bang! Gulp!

The third one begins his journey.
But he possesses an extra sense.


  1. Even if I wasn't committed to criticise, I would. :D
    1. When you killed your first two sense organs, I knew what was coming next.
    2. The metaphorical implications were(=are) too over-the-nose.
    3. Content is different (=new), but the style remains the same. Being your blog's reader, I admit, I'm bored.
    4. Repetition of the same words. I don't mean the sly inclusion of "in(ane)-coherence". I mean intra-post repetitions. I don't think you would ask me to point them out.
    5. This should be taken as personal: Now I know why you need to 'work' on a blog post. ;D

  2. 1-4 : Agreed! But in my slight defense, I would say that you missed a lot of it, be it the essence of the story or the metaphors drawn in it, 'hunt'-ing for the flaws. :)

    5 : Nah! The day I start working on my blog posts, I would quit blogging. Impositions on creations out of compulsions do not help, I guess.

  3. predictable as the read was, it was just as much interesting.
    though i never expected the plants to be carnivorous, which, after my second read, became suggestive with the emphasized description of their physical presence, the plot was quite a new wine in old bottle.
    i would tag this piece as quite unnerving for your new readers, but for an ol' fan like me ( :D ) it was interesting, making me think.
    one mentionable comment was the phrase "some in(ane)-coherence". i really liked the clever use of your skills. :)
    good work.

  4. Agnimita, you have become used to this particular narrative of mine, by repeated usage; the style incorporated even in our conversations. :P But, you know the reasons behind my making-things-overtly-predictable! ;) When we look at the stairs(considering a long staircase) or walk on them, we know what's going to come after each stair - another stair. Who knows, the stairs might collapse, midway; or maybe they have already collapsed and we are oblivious to it; we are hanging, walking in the air, unconsciously. :)

  5. Only if the extra sense would suffice... Nice work, hope the third one gets it, because, Eden is forbidden for most of us, mortals.

    Interesting read, how he conquered all senses, like chakra opening the gates.

    Blasphemous Aesthete

  6. As a newcomer I was was not put off, however your surfeit of adjectives did pall a little. Each new experience warns us of future dangers yet the gradual lessening of the horror as he experiences each different sense makes him unwary in the end.

    This man's constant quest for the stars only got him in heaven the sooner or was it hell?

    I am most grateful for your visit to me which allowed me to find some really unusual and testing writing.

  7. As this was the first blogpost of yours that I have read, I found it very new and very interesting. :) The only thing I would say is that go a little low on the adjectives. I am a lover of adjectives myself but sometimes a little mystery is that the reader can try and feel for herself/himself.
    Otherwise, I wonderful concept! I like the ending a LOT.

  8. Anshul, I realised it only midway, what I was writing. After I finished writing the second paragraph, the inclusion of prospective enunciation of the five primary senses occurred to me. :)

    Oldegg, thank you. Yes, I should probably use adjectives economically. Heaven or hell, does it matter? Probably, in both the cases it's either an end or a beginning.

    Antara, to be honest, I wanted to describe my dream as vividly as possible(yes it was a dream)and in the exact way I saw it; but maybe in order to do so I was being a tad selfish, probably unconsciously, by my munificent usage of adjectives.

  9. To tell the truth...Don't really know what the fuss is all about! Every writer has and always will have...a particular style. Be it Hemingway, Dostoevsky or Richard Bach( who you obviously adore..:P)- everyone had a unique, distinctive style...And it is infinitely better rather than not having an identity at all...And yeah...It's good to re-invent oneself but that does not always happen...neither does it happen so easily. the key here is writing...Write on and ultimately everything will come...

    As regards this particular post. It was brilliant in its own right.One would say exotic and sybaritic and I would wholeheartedly agree.. but yeah you need to cut down a bit on the adjectives. to put things in perspective. First identify your prospective it the critics or the common people...For critics this would be wonderful but the poor 'mango-people' would feel a tad intimidated and overwrought I guess...

  10. It was vivid. And surreal. And it was different. Storytelling is never perfect and shouldn't be perfect. You really made me read every line and that makes for a wonderful story :) I can't wait for more to come.

  11. verbal delight :) loved the images and the word-play .. had to read a few times to get the grip and I enjoyed it very much ..

  12. wordless on ur way of playing with words!
    and the plot u use evrytime has something about it!

  13. Everytime I read your post I have to refer to the otherwise unused dictionary a hundred times but I like the way you weave the entire plot... :) I wish I had found this blog while I was preparing for my entrance exams... :D


  14. Vivid. Shayy, I completely agree with what you wrote on your defense to the first comment by Twish. Kaun jeet sakta hai tumse baaton mein, Shayy. :) And it is not just about "jeetna", you were so true, Impositions on creations out of compulsions do not help for sure. :) And I am lookin for the flaws too. Can't find any. :P

  15. The Hunt indeed! The way you have penned down about each sense and to in perfect order! The extra sense at the end was just Superb!

    And what should I say about your narration, its always unique, varied from all I have read...

  16. Siddhartha, I will keep those in mind. But my problem is that I don't like categorising readers or thinking of a target audience while writing. :)

    Antara, I endorse imperfections too! :D

    Aria, thank you! :)

    Megha, your comment had a small amount of wordplay too. ;)

    Tanishka, bad miss, eh! :P

    Thanks Di. Yes, I try maintaining that. ;)

    Beyond Horizon, thank you! :)

  17. Make me smile whenever you address me so.. :) It's so damn cute. :P

  18. Ephemeral delight, this.

    A vague way it finds a passage and establishes connection, through vagaries of epiphanies that's arrive in spurts and leaves you sublime.

  19. Ah! Cindrella, that comment of yours has multiple meanings; rooted in the black, slightly inclined towards the white. ;)


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Let me know, whether you loathe it or adore..