The Snake Catcher

"An Indian former Roman Catholic priest has been sentenced to six years in prison for sexually abusing a teenage girl in the US. The sentencing came after the Catholic priest pleaded guilty to one count of having sexual contact with a child under the age of 16, a crime that carries a maximum 15-year punishment." read a NEWS report today. (Source: https://www.news18.com/news/india/indian-priest-sentenced-to-6-years-in-prison-for-sexually-abusing-13-year-old-girl-in-us-2082989.html)

Hallelujah! to all the Catholic priests. Incidentally I was also looking for a 'long-reach catcher' a.k.a 'snake catcher' - a long length device that helps you nab those pesky, slithering reptiles if you spot one (like the one in the picture). Gives you a chance to catch it and later torture it as you please slowly without giving it the chance of an instant death otherwise.

Think this sort of tool must be supplied to all judges who have started to boldly deliver the deterrents (to a certain level) to Catholic priests lately whose pass time seems to be abusing people - one way or the other. Wish I could send a long-reach catcher to the Pope in the Vatican; the problem was I could not find one for now that was long enough to reach Kerala from there; 'God's own country', where some of these devils slither - as we get to see recently - engaged in this form of abuse and worse. 

Check these NEWS Headlines for instance: Bishop Arrested For Allegedly Raping Kerala Nun Stood Smiling In Court (Source: https://www.ndtv.com/kerala-news/bishop-franco-mulakkal-arrested-for-allegedly-raping-kerala-nun-stood-in-pala-court-smiling-1920528), Second Priest Arrested In Kerala Rape Case, 2 Others Still On The Run (Source: https://www.ndtv.com/kerala-news/second-priest-arrested-in-kerala-rape-case-2-others-still-on-the-run-1882925), Kerala Priest, 65, Allegedly Sexually Assaulted 10-Year-Old Inside Church (Source: https://www.ndtv.com/kerala-news/kerala-priest-65-arrested-for-alleged-sexual-assault-on-minor-girl-1760842), Kerala Catholic Priest, Accused Of Raping 17-Year-Old, Arrested (Source: https://www.ndtv.com/kerala-news/kerala-catholic-priest-accused-of-raping-17-year-old-arrested-1664249), Christian Priest Arrested For Alleged Sexual Assault Of 2 Minor Boys (Source: https://www.ndtv.com/kerala-news/christian-priest-arrested-for-alleged-sexual-assault-of-2-minor-boys-1726241), Priest arrested, charged with rape in Kerala after teen delivers child (Source: https://www.ncronline.org/news/accountability/priest-arrested-charged-rape-kerala-after-teen-delivers-child), Kerala Priest Arrested For Alleged Sexual Abuse, Murder (Source: https://www.ndtv.com/tamil-nadu-news/kerala-priest-arrested-for-alleged-sexual-abuse-murder-1449992) 

These sort of stories are long and can go on and on as incidents like these that get reported and many more like these, just like their victims, that go unreported, silenced and crushed; that would be exhausting and not something perhaps that will find space enough to fit into this blog or more. So let me stop here for now.

How to spot these elements becomes the big question. Simple. Just stay away from anyone wearing a skin that comes off which they change more often - much like a cassock. Just as cassocks come in different colours - some white, some off-white and some in the dirtiest brown - the snakeskin too come in different colours. The dirtier the colour, the deadlier the poison of the breed I suppose as it finds yet another coincidence - this like that and the other. Easy peasy to spot.

Had I known this earlier, would have shooed off a few from entering my door-step instead of letting them in earlier and having to do the cleaning now.

These snakes are quite cleverly deadly and sync well in communion too. They come from different places, gather in one place to breed and later spread around and wait for others to enter the traps they set - sometimes in Churches, at times hospitals and as I recently realized, even within educational institutions - their favourite grounds to flourish. These are the places where often people enter - vulnerable, unsuspecting and dazed and the snakes seem to know this too well that they just lie there pretending to be engaged in their ritualistic duties quite religiously and pray until their prey enters their line of attack and when the time seems right, they get down to do what they have been waiting to do with remorseless, guiltless and pointless ease when their skin comes off and they reveal their true self. Such perverted beings these. Sex is just one form of perversion that these kinds engage in right from the beginning if you understand that attempting celibacy is one of the strangest form of sexual perversion - a mental disorder that falls outside the normalcy curve.
These strange kinds, have not left the other four forms of abuse untouched as well as they engage quite freely and unquestioned in emotional, mental and physical abuses while also neglecting the principles, values and the basic duties of their vocation as they mark, tear and scar human souls as they injure individuals, families and communities at a whole new level on a very large scale - consciously and deliberately - slowly, yet strategically and systematically.
Is it because the Vatican is too far away that they feel shielded by the distance or the closeness of their promoting leaders nearby? Is it the undue power they possess and the irrelevant respect we give these undeserving creatures? Is it because we sometimes get carried away by the irrelevant stories of a great past they carry as messiahs of grace and selflessness often used as their defence as a validation to justify their avaricious presence in the present? Or is it simply because we keep feeding these deadly snakes knowingly and at times unknowingly?

Perhaps the mistake is ours - mine and yours. It is time, high time, perhaps even late, to stop feeding these snakes and for all of us to go and buy this long-reach and keep these slithering reptiles away at bay. Prevention is better than cure. Stay safe.
  

The Ghost In The Mirror

The whole world seems busy these days... Kerala had a few Temple issues - wanted the treasury of one to stay closed quoting some coiling divine serpent that is there protecting it while some wanted the doors in another to open a little wider for women to enter; Tamil Nadu had its share of sex scandals - one where a singer 'me-too'ed' a lyricist and got crushed for doing that and later a Pollachi abuse issue that got politicized eventually. With the elections around the corner, parties are busy trying to solicit one another to form united alliances of utter confusion and as we go higher, we have people from the winged force flying unused rusty jets into politics-created war zones, getting shot to demonstrate the need to replace our fighting planes with a few new ones that are currently stuck underneath a s(c)(h)ammed deal and for the NEWS too, as we, the distracted, detracted nationalists, hail the pilot whose plane got gunned-down, returning without even a piece of that ejected seat. This to me, is so unfair. 

This last particular event especially, took me through a memory lane. A long time ago I rode my bicycle up a post and crashed it into another compound and my Dad I must say, was not particularly pleased with what I did to the cycle more than what had happened to me after the crash and I remember getting whipped as well for wrecking our neighbour's compound with my cycle. Today while reading about this guy who crashed a MIG purchased with my Dad's money (well, he pays his income tax you see, which must have gone into purchasing at least a sq.mm of the tail wing of the jet) into enemy territory and on the contrary, getting hailed for doing that it seems so unfair that the way we look at things have changed in the last couple of decades since I crashed my cycle into my neighbour's wall. At least I came back with all the scrap metal I managed to find when I crashed; and this guy just returned empty-handed (he did not even bring back his ejected seat!) with nothing more than a gun-sling moustache intact and I got busted while this guy gets hoisted... Duh! How fair is life?

Talking about 'fairness', we are all only as good as the world allows us to be I suppose. Little do I believe anymore that everyone has a destiny and if anything that happens, happens only for a reason. Everything that happens, opens only opportunities for other things to happen as I get to see these days. It is left to us to see those opportunities, use it or let it go. You cannot just shoot down a flying opportunity like you can shoot down a fighter jet using automatic guns and radars. 

In life, opportunities come, opportunities go... and it flies off if you don't seize it. 

The problem with opportunities is that we at times, mistake, misinterpret and misplace opportunities. During a recent episode, quite sadly I saw some people I 'ass'umed (yeah, made an 'ass' out of 'u' and 'me') were friends and my close circle, turn into opportunists who decided to break trust and good faith to keep themselves safe and secure. While most cut off and remained at dignified distance in absolute silence, some did harness the courage to come to me and declare that they were cowards left with no choice. Fool I must be to trust those words. Well they did have choice. Everyone has a choice... even the a-hole who does not make a choice, does have a choice to not make a choice at the end of the day. However life is such and such is life. Beaten yet not fallen, bruised yet not hurt, shot yet not hunted... just like the fellow whose jet got shot who is a national treasure now.   

Yet trust me, every choice has its consequence, even if it seems like only a shadow that you can ignore with a shrug today, it will hover someday like a dark nightmare that will wake you up screaming. Everything we do will make us think - if not today, someday and I will wait in the darkness for that day to come, to flash a mirror right at the faces of people who don't get to see themselves today and let them see clearly who they really are or capable to be. Today I cannot speak anything about this and if I do, it will be like an idiot trying to sell mirrors to the blind on a moonless night. Values I try to speak of, have already been exchanged for promised treasures and instant pleasures. Let me not disturb those who find these short-term reliefs comforting. Let me not disturb any of those. Trying to make people see through these, at this time, will be like standing in the middle of a whore-house in full swing and preaching about sin. Today, the noise around is too loud and their eyes are fixed at a mirage of permanency and they will never see nor hear whether I yell or shout. Everything for a while and life echoes... ces't la vie. 

Every passing day does not take us into the future; rather it takes us to the past where we leave an unpicked piece that must be gathered to solve a puzzle we are stuck with in the present. A day will come when many will return to search for the missing piece and when that day dawns I will be right here waiting; with a mirror in my hand, to roll my gun-sling moustache and to laugh as they try to recognize their worthless faces.  

Until then, let them shame Sodom and Gomorrah with their ways and make their fathers proud. Go forth and multiply as you please.  

Dracula In A Farm - New Short Story

Recently I went to a farm and on the way I saw many rules and regulations posted on the walls that were laid to protect humans - they told - the driver added that these were what they called the 'constitution' around. They also said that if anyone breaks these laws or even dares to say that they don't apply to someone, they could be taken to task till justice was restored. Trusting all that I entered the farm. 

The farm was filled with animals, some good, some bad yet everyone crooked. This was their way of saving themselves I realized later... after all it is the straight tree that gets the axe in a jungle, isn't it?
Everyone lived in fear of one another in this farm, knowing that eventually they would all be dipped, fried or toasted and burnt in the chef's kitchen. By the by, the chefs here were strange people too, who cooked to please the few who threw them the money; they dressed funny too - perhaps to do evil, anyone must start to think they are different from others and the first things to show that is to dress differently I suppose - terrorists, military, priests, criminals and chefs too - some in white and the dirtier they were the browner their clothe got here too. There was this one particular chef who wore the dirtiest brown, as dirty as his dirty rotten ever-rotting mind I suppose. He never knew of the boards hanging outside that farm, perhaps he never knew to read or write and probably got to this point buttering, polishing, and God-knows-what he did do. 

One day, the dirty chef, grew jealous of one rascal who cared a rat's-arse about the weight he was trying to throw at everyone that seemed to have no effect on him. The dirty chef tried to reduce this rascal's dignity several times too... and still made no dent. Seemed like this rascal cared a damn about the dirty brown chef's pretentious presence which annoyed the dirty chef even more. The chef in brown played his last card and decided to get rid of the bothersome rascal who he felt was questioning his authority by now. He made a crooked plan with a few of his other crooked friends.  

The unassuming rascal's end was charted and the drama started. The chef was the director and every other animal in the farm decided to play their parts while the other chefs in white sat still as his audience as some played along to fit into carefully orchestrated roles the dirty chef had scripted for them. The music began, the clowns in white robes danced merrily as the rascal was dragged and ragged and got ripped and torn. They even brought a black-robed friend who lived on a hilltop nearby who knew the constitution by heart (he said) to mock the very constitution he claimed to protect. He too played his role at the chef's demand. The chief chef meanwhile, closed his eyes as if in some deep spiritual realm and pretended to sleep, allowing every other nonsense to happen in the farm. He probably finally took the oscar I think. 

The farm exemplified as the farm of the crooked, wicked and sick. The sicker they were, the more wicked they became and the more wicked they were, the more crooked they became. With every slice on the rascal's body, the merrier they got feeding on the dying soul. The climax reached its finale as the chef in brown licked the dripping blood from the rascal's body... twisting his cunning smile with a ripple that reached his meddling eyes as the chefs - white and brown, and every dirty old clown - came together once more, holding hands to dance around the pyre, while the farm animals scattered and hid and feared some more and decided to obey and to please their demanding masters and never to even think about standing straight - evermore. 

Thus came to rest the rascal's soul as it soared, 

wounded and torn as it detoured. 

Past the farm and through the roads, 

as the clamping boards chimed some more, 

rattling a praise to a constitution 

that only hung on boards.