Friday, November 27, 2015

Terrorist Bastards


The world is battling now, don’t you see. We have been plagued by the terrorists – who have given up the honor of plain old war. They have become smart – they strap bombs and blow themselves up. They kill themselves and kill us too.


We should be really afraid of these terrorist bastards – out to prove their point. Without a second thought – they have us by our ends. What have we done to incur such negativity from these bastards. We all wonder. Without much introspection – we have condemned men and women like us to be the devil themselves.

What of the peacekeeping force which we all have gotten used to, you know the armed forces – murderers and rapists who have been sent across continents to save our fucking futile kinds.

They have strapped bombs on their waists shredding us into waste. Waiting for the right time, to declare war of a bomb blast in kind. No they are not someone you don’t know – they are the bastard war veteran sitting your front room floor. Yes the putrid satanic kinds, spewing love for borders and countries and blood in time.

Stay away from the terrorist bastards lest you become one, the kinds which justify actions of self while calling others cowards. I failed to see why one is not the other.


You see I have a problem with Guns and Ammo. The things that make stupid men look and feel important. The things which make your greed manageable and make you believe of your grandeur. Yes I have a problem verily with anyone brandishing these awful items of war and hate.

And you see, the peaceful society you have made – this delicate and stupid lie which you have made yourself believe is founded only on the spirited power of the gun and mortar. Of land bombs and anthrax. Let us not forget the mighty N-Bomb. The one which will make us realize the beauty of peace, living continuously in the fear of the next grand scale terrorist attack.

You are not a terrorist based on caste or creed, you are a fucking terrorist if you have a gun and use it. Defending or attacking, you are the plague of mankind. The kinds which will justify death with death, pain with pain and hate with hate.

Do not call someone who blows some people up as a terrorist. I urge you to see your life and that all you are, based on the false pretense of peace is because of you paying vast amounts all your life for such terrorists to protect and keep you dumb to the war and hate

You can afford to go off the grid to make comments which have any value (according to yourself) but at the least try not to be a terrorist yourself protected by armies of millions of robots while commenting on the atrocities of others which have made them sad and terrible bastards like yourself.

I may not be supporting the war efforts or rather peace efforts of our world worthily by making such hurtful comments (I am well aware of this) but inherently this feeling of hate makes me loathe myself and not anyone else. There is only one way to remove terrorism of any kind (including mass scale wars) and that is by Acceptance and Peace. Inner and outer realms included.

Peace and Joy

The Hardest Route


An act of salvation, only the hardest way up.

As we start there is a inkling doubt of the nature of risk we all have undertaken, there are something's which can not be changed, but for everything else we could have taken the easier way out. None of us did and this is where it has landed us.
At a dismal height of 23 000 feet, with ice and snow all around us. Nothing to see us die if we were to. Indeed it is a difficult thought which we all have actively embraced.

To become a part of something great, without the greatest loss in place – seems inappropriate somehow by nature’s standards. This is what we must give to accept glory of the all mighty. Who lands the mountain at our face, so we may accept to climb it. The deadly K2. of the Karakoram range.

I could not imagine a time, when I would not be climbing. Everyone in my family back in Switzerland thought I was crazy; no safeties no nothing. Bare knuckle climbing, but now to think of it those were the alps – deadly yet not high altitude, the air was still there for us to breathe, for us to survive. This was god’s joke – to reach his layer we had to let go of the one thing we needed most to survive. Oxygen.

I know many would ridicule the notion of trying the north face of this holy terror. Many have died trying and many refuse to come once seeing the immensity in proportion – oh yes it may be exciting to try to climb it – the very notion. But here making the push for the summit with my other two numb and brain dead colleagues. I wonder who is the one who was smarter, us or the ones looking for our graves in a year’s time at the base.

The weather is worsening, its becoming colder by the minute. I wonder if the push up would lead us to heaven or back to ground. My other colleagues dear and dying like myself with no oxygen to breathe. Oh why did we not carry supplemental tins? Why did we want to do this without any idea.

K2 has become the deadly specter – watching us losing our senses and waiting for us to collapse. Maybe it does this to everyone who comes near. That’s why its so far away from civilization – marooned like an island up in the sky.

The fog is getting denser, the air is stifling and cold and the sun has drowned itself behind the mighty ogre. There is nothing which can go worse. Then it starts snowing. Gently at first but I can see that this is not going to go away, not anytime soon.

It has been over 2 days we are buried in the immensity of white gold. Under layers of blankets – its still dipping below –40 degrees centigrade. No where for men to be. One of my friends has started speaking inanities, the kinds which happen before the brain dies with lack of water and oxygen. We remain extremely wary of each other – he too may be saying the same about me, there are no kind ways to be in your wit and at the same time having a companion in this dreadful ice island is more than my life could give back to anyone. I remain quiet, introspective and almost hopeful my death will arrive today – quick and painless perhaps, but what can I speak about that already the ancient gods of this mountain have not spoken on my behalf.

The weather worsens and I start praying for perhaps the first time in my life. The prayer is to be kind as the weather passes and that it may lead us to the summit. Only once.

No one has climbed this face before us, and no one ever even imagined some one would – the worst face. The North Face. Leaving behind us the entire range of dreams from collective subconscious of our kinds. Why are we here, and what god’s await us on the summit. It is a mystery for us to solve.

The morning seems to stop snowing and we think that its about time to get out and go down.

But that is not how we do it. We decide to go down and move up at the same time. The mountain has got the hold of us, and we need to make it up or out of this zone.

The toughest climbs are the ones which make your soul exit the body while being alive. This was one of them, perhaps it was the almighty’s will that I survived. My colleagues and brothers in arms were not so lucky.

The first one popped at the ice ridge leading to the tiny walkway which had to be traversed to summit. The ice ridge collapsing quickly beneath him left him no chance to recompose himself or his bearings. The end for him was as quick and painless as one could imagine. Already numb from the sub zero temperatures assaulting our bones and left over of skin, the steep fall and instant marauder would have been quite easy I imagined.

My other colleague and I still traversing up with the wind summoning up the devil from the dark corners of hell, We could be blown away in an instant – all death and no glory. My eyes were getting ice blindness way quicker than I have got. Then I saw the last horrific thing which I needed to see, a steep rising wave of snow in front of us – an avalanche from the depths of hell itself.

I cowered and hid as much as I could, so that my neck and bones don’t break. My other brother in arm was not so lucky. The avalanche swooped down and took him with the tide. Right down to the bottom of the karakoram range.

It was a morbid feeling for the time I could imagine, not much maybe in the way we all see time in times of indifference, but that was not the case that day – the storm, aching bones and withered morale – the death of ones near and dear in a land which is so far away from any sort of life if not human civilization. I felt as the loneliest man in the history of the world. It was not an easy feeling to reconcile, to move on further was destiny and fate and suicide certainly. There was nothing to lose anymore for the mountain had taken all those weapons which I had procured to counter her vast majesty and deathly grandeur.

The sherpas at base camp may have already left as we are over 3 weeks in excess of our intended date of arrival on ground. K2 was never as powerful as it was now. Myself vs. this grand majesty of ice cold hell. To perish here would be to give her and myself an easy exit plan. And what if I was to make it all the way down now, there was certain death without the help of another human for over 100 miles. I was dead this way or that. Only the choice how to die was mine.

I collected what I could from the dead comrades surroundings. Some rope and crampons and I carried forward. The hallowed top was there, staring and mocking me in some strange way and I was finding it impossible to go any further, and then few drops of blood from my nose onto the white bed of snow. I toppled over unconscious.

The next day or two (I really do not have any idea how many days and nights may have passed) was so blurry yet surreal that I cannot describe them better than what I have mentioned now. At night when I woke up or repeatedly woke up for days on end – I saw a vast array of lights on the horizon of the summit. With ice cold winds and fog enveloping me, I could not fathom how I was alive or was this some form of after life limbo. There was semblance of reality left but I could not understand whether this was how after life was supposed to be. The lights came upon and then retreated just as quickly. And I passed out, this happened couple of days in a row I believe and the snow kept me in some form of hibernation. There was no decay or frostbite. There was no movement of time except for when I saw these strange lights up high on the Himalayan skies, away from the sight of most of humanity on this earth, and then the last night which was perhaps the coldest night of them all, the lights opened up and they spoke to me. In a language or visualization only I could perhaps relate to.

This was 28,000 feet high up in the sky, the ladder just fell away and I was left to see what was reality. Heaven and all that jazz was a place in the sky. Where the gods met ancient man. Where they transmitted powerful life changing information through telepathy and power of touch.

This was quite something I must say to be spoken to a life long hard living atheist like myself. The lights changed colors and then they entered my third eye by focusing on it. This was profound and I was lifted like never before. I was made well and replenished without further need. I was made whole like Christ post his crucifixion.

These were giant beings which were from a planet at the end of the universe. Yes that was a long distance off, and yet they were here with the power of their intention and they reassured me that it was just as easy for any of us to do the same including climbing this mountain – and that’s exactly what they had seen through my third eye. ( I wonder what my fallen brethren had in their minds in their final moments)

It seemed too fishy to me, this kind of morbid philosophy – perhaps the chemicals in my head were giving way, and this was my final moment – to die some form of alien enthusiast on a desolate piece of rock in the highest point of earth away from any form of family or kinship and anyone to recognize my death. But my body was made good, my breathing made light and whole. And my senses were renewed – there was an internal fire in the making, which kept burning since. This was the warmth I was so longing for…

These beings did not speak about themselves, there was no ego involved, no sense of supremacy or hate. There was acceptance of who I was, and why I was there. I understood that they too were here for a very long time, looking at men trying to knock down their silent home. Shooting them down perhaps?

I could not understand but I felt the summit beneath my feet, the mighty K2 benign and now understanding that I was one of them, leaving me to be with her one first and final time. The beings showed the lights and then uplifted me to their mobile home, where they lived through me the ancient life of this ancient mountain. They had been here all the while. All the time. This was beautiful, the rise of these ancient mountains as home for this ancient race, where they hid shyly yet mingling with folks like me who had the intention for finding solace – like the feeling they so wished on our planet. Yes this was our planet and they had their own once upon a time, now desolate they come to our planet to live and be nostalgic about their loss.

Was this about me? No indeed it was not. It wasn’t about them either – it was and is only about the beautiful mountain K2. The mountain showing the path of the warrior to human and alien alike. The alien in a word dropped me to my base camp and in the next couple of days I wandered back to some form of civilization.

No one would ever believe my story, and hence I keep it to myself for I too at times find it impossible to believe. But none of it has gone beyond my perception or understanding. The knowledge, ancient sacred supple knowledge passed on about the nature of universe stayed amongst my grey cells for a very long time.

An experience amongst the loneliness of eternity. There is nothing here in store for the faint of heart. Only for the ones looking for the hardest up.





Peace and Joy


Sunday, November 15, 2015

The Astute Warrior


When all dharma has fallen, and the righteous has left this earth. Still we pray to Raja Ram and celebrate his home coming, to which ends of hypocrisy I wonder?

The blessed, meek and pious all look to the warrior king to come home – to lighten up their despair and enlighten their hearts. In deep devotion and humility, praying steadfast till the ends of the night – looking for his coming. Where is he? Lo, Ram has pointed his mighty bow and arrow at our hearts and is looking to annihilate us at the earliest.

Hence I ask again, Why have we strayed from our duty, why have we looked indifferent at this evil preying us within our hearts, We have not saved our mortal brothers and hence forgotten even our real selves. I feel none of us will ever get to see the real Ram in our lives. And it is all our fault. Its all our cowardice which has resulted in this situation

Indeed, none of us even care for the true Ram. The name which once upon a time perhaps evoked true love and the spirit of servitude. The image of the true warrior – standing tall for what is right, what is love. This is true godhood. This is true love. Where did it all go wrong?

I used to wonder – what this mortal has done to be elevated to the status of a God. What made him a god till the day I started calling out his name inadvertently and without asking anything in return. Soon it all made sense, in my heart. Ram is all there is and was. The perfect Son, husband, brother and king. The man amongst so many so called men. The devotee of Shiva  amongst so many Devotees. The archer par excellence.

The archer par excellence – that’s it. That’s what sticks. The aspect of man which tunes in, drops out and achieves his end. His own salvation. The very name of this Man-God gives me the Goosebumps

Oh Ram, where have you left us now. You were supposed to lead the promised land, you were supposed to be our messiah.  You were the one who was going to redeem us? What happened to us, that you left us in this lurch of facing ourselves by ourselves?

The warrior in me preys to the warrior in you; so you may forgive and guide. In your name I find long lost solace. Something which I have grown accustomed to living without. Perhaps you have forgotten to care for us; but we will not forget to pray to you. And as our sins of ignorance fall to the ground like leaves from a tree in autumn glory. We shall return to you. In love and grace.

He stands still aiming his arrow high, towards the Sun. Praying to his creator and releasing the arrow – so that it reaches its target. Annihilation of many selves in turn for None.

Peace & Happy Diwali 2015



Ode to Humanity

I am not a big fan of human kind, the version of life that in today’s day seems to be only focused upon itself. The day’s pass and humans ...