Ruftasa – Avi Gabhawala

 

Illustration by Aarushi Periwal

Illustration by Aarushi Periwal

And sitting there at that turbulent moment in unright time

Under surrealist blocks of granite and stone positioned with fetishtic Cubist ritualism

Apartment rooftops rotten cubes hollow sky-wells gigantic circles rooftops upon rooftops man

Heavy metal instrumentals blaring soft and genteel on eardrums going deaf already

Mushroom cloud-laden skies reminiscent of low-yield nukage from Karachi or Beijing scary shitless soliloquy

Right-wing extremism bovine supremacy Liberty sucking their cocks for a breath of solid life

Homicides in the name of dairy mothers feasting on urban shite in quotidian communion and beastly oblivion

Institutional jackasses persecuted for derogation of the said institutions out over the cyberspatial fugazzi of exhibitionistic social graphs of Eulerian manhood

The conformist sense of notion of Liberty of the said jackasses and all the hilarious rationalization they attribute to their archetypal reaction to said persecution

And Liberty stripped of her robes of the Freedom of Speech and dressed in the garbs of subordination collectivism and hypocritical vandalism

Universities suffocating to death in the crumbling states of Industan; cockless non-professors! colorless students! infuriating denial! simulatable chatter! robotic smalltalk! silenced voices! bashed brains! sundried imagination! endless persecution! collective dogs! hunting for recognition! thoughtless classification! modern technology! ancient dysfunctionalism! bullshit irrationalism! cancerous Culture with paperized degrees only good to clean sweet virgin arses with!

A country full of various species of humanity and animal unsure ever all who is who what is what unsure how to win this war against the Animal of this pyromanic mob losing all over and over with every term of its existence

And questioning what does it lose when it loses this war its diversity! its Platonic ideal self! its grandeur! its very one soul! the promise of its Freedom Fighters dreams and hopes of them to watch this millennial progeny jest and laugh and love and cry and befriend and dream and rock solid to just be and to just live in a land where the mind IS without fear!

 

How can my mind not disassociate? How can I not contemplate a place for me in the madhouses of Karelibaug? Someday right in the near future which always looks bleak and dreary?

How can I not dream of my nation free of the forces that shall bring it to its knees? How can I not think of these forces which are not everywhere about or outside us but in us in our failing failing minds unread minds unreading minds unmoving blocks hard of gooey tissue and null sense of Liberty?

How can I not remember future days of mobs ruling streets unreasonable animals spread like wildfires burning every God in the name of One Religion?

How can I not fantasize every rationalist every Liberal picking up pens and voices and arms to save its motherland from packs of senseless hysterical defeating aggression? How can I not be sure that no war may be won without warring men and women?

How can I not shudder when I think of how we would have failed this country our own selves if allow them to win? How can I not weep when I think of how my children shall weep when I kill myself in wicked post-lands where we have lost this War?

How can I not just flee but stay and fight?

 

I wish to make love to a man

Just because their State tells me I can’t

I wish to cut open cows and cook their gall bladders

Just because their State tells me I can’t

I wish to kiss and make love in temples

Just because their State tells me I can’t

I wish to sketch a naked Mohammed his God abstract

Just because their State tells me I can’t

I wish to conceive avant-garde paints of Shiva and Parvati conceiving Ganesh

Just because their State tells me I can’t

I wish to build galleries full of windows of Husain’s mindspace

Just because their State tells me I can’t

I wish to hold literary orgies! poetic readings! of The Satanic Verses

Just because their State tells me I can’t

I wish to visit every atom in existence out through the epic highs of some shameless 60s shimshams waving my hands back to the Counterculture

Just because their State tells me I can’t

I wish to write majestic odes melodic songs dreamy short-fiction stating all I have wished

Just because their State tells me I can’t

I wish to grow botanical forests full with cannabis mushrooms peyote morning-glory savita

Just because their State tells me I can’t

I wish to freely choose I wish to openly love I wish to nakedly pursue I wish to live without barriers I wish to laugh without restraint I wish to cry without tears I wish to be insane without prejudice without the fuss I wish to just be

Just because their State tells me I can’t

I wish to live free of the horrible fears of intellectual death

Just because their State tells me I can’t

 

Ruftasa! Ruftasa! We have sold our souls, Ruftasa!

We have let them take charge

I see one burning anarchy

I see one starry Utopia

Why did we let them kill our Art?

Why did let them bleed Liberty dry?

Why did we let them sew our tongues to rooftops?

Why did we let them control our love for each other?

Have they not experimented enough?

Enough on this new beat-up generation!

Your marching armies of ill-fitted professions!

Your all-encompassing universities churning Gandhian money!

Your outright denial of all our French Revolution!

Your incredible numbing lack of self-reflection!

Nothing but herds us this smothering monomanic obsession!

Stripped of all living individualism and diversification!

 

What day was it when I thought I could cure it all,

With my words, with my voice with my rationalist rhetoric?

And what night was it when I dreamt the fall,

Of our State without our little Revolution?

The writer is a student based in Baroda, Gujarat studying a field currently devoid of all meaning thanks to mass-adaptation. He is a pathological bibliophile who thinks he can write poetry just because he started rhyming words right from the fifth grade.