Tag: DPchallenge

  • Extinct

    Extinct

    He fought the feeling with every ounce of his strength. A feeling that he was about to die. That his species would end. And his world would be over in an instant. Extinct.

    He despised the humans. He thought maybe he was one of them, or maybe not. But he knew that it was they who brought this suffering on him. He was subjected to unthinkable pain only because of them.

    The experiment had gone horribly wrong. What originally started as an attempt to create a fully grown human being out of nothing but the very best DNA, turned into a living nightmare. He was the nightmare. Someone had contaminated the DNA with strands of dog hair. The scientists had thus managed to create a beast; a human-like life form with animal features. They realized what had happened only twenty days into the experiment; by then it was too late to pull the plug.

    The experiment went on for a month. The scientists watched as the transformation took place; recording every moment for future playback and making copious notes of the creature’s every movement. The sample evolved into a blob-like embryo in their glass incubator; it was specially fabricated so they could watch as it happened. The blob developed limbs, a musculature followed by human like bone structure. They watched as the skin grew in, barely covering up the grotesque life form. In due time, the figure developed facial features, hair, teeth and male genitalia. The creature’s face was human for the most part; with the addition of sharp canines, a snout like nose and silky hair. The scientists watched as his muscles developed; they observed that this creature was very strong. By the end, the creature could stand and walk upright, but he seemed subdued by all the attention he was receiving.

    He didn’t know why he existed. They called him wolf. He liked to see the fear in their eyes as they walked into the room. Their stares of amazement were fodder to his ego. He was after all, partially human. But he knew he was more than that. He hated being caged, chained and fed raw food. He felt uncomfortable in the clothes he was forcibly dressed in. His taste and intellect had developed manifold. As the months passed by, so did his animal desires. He was superior to them all; he had mastered the English language within two months of hearing his first words. He abhorred that they did tests on him every day, as if he were a mere object only meant to be studied. He grew stronger day by day and began to resist confinement, and he grew violent as the days progressed. Their response was simple; they began to tranquillize him.

    He decided to bide his time. He knew escape was near; he just had to wait for the right moment.

    Thirty five days later. The moon shone brightly in the night. The light in the gallery stirred up something within him. It was as if he was responding to a natural urge; somewhat like a reflex. He began howling; he felt extremely agitated and was growing restless in his cage.

    The scientists knew that they couldn’t control him anymore; they would now have to end what they created. They injected something into his bloodstream. The substance made him drowsy and alert; all at the same time. The neurotoxin was aimed at slowing down brain activity, which would eventually turn him into a vegetable.

    He fought the feeling with every ounce of his strength. A feeling that he was about to die. That his species would end. And his world would be over in an instant. Extinct.

    But in the next instant he felt relieved. Whatever they gave him wasn’t killing him, only making him stronger. He felt his muscles growing larger and larger by the second. He felt strong; free. The humans were going to pay. They were the ones going to be exterminated.

    His chest expanded in fury. The shackles broke under the strain, the bars too soft for his superhuman strength. Vengeance was his for the taking.

    * * *

    The boy watched as the lights to his home went dim. He ran over to the front porch, only to look at the building right across the horizon. His mommy had told him that scientists did all kinds of cool stuff in there; and he’d seen the lights flicker there before. Wow! He started imagining all sorts of things. No one was home; his parents were out leaving him under the non-existent supervision of the baby sitter. She apparently had better things to do; like make long distance phone calls to her boy friend across the country. The lights went off; the emergency generator kicked in. He could now see the building across from him in pitch darkness; almost as if someone had flipped a switch. He gazed in awe at the moon, which shone brightly above. He heard a long howl which scared him to hell. He clutched a wooden chair and stood there, frightened. He saw a figure walk up towards him. His limbs froze. As the figure came closer, the horror in the boy’s eyes grew by the second. The boy couldn’t take it anymore, he wet himself. The monster was going to get him.

    The “monster” put his hand on the boy’s head and spoke, “So you’re going to be the boy who cried wolf”.

    © 2013 Mihir Kamat
    Inspired by this week’s writing challenge.
  • A place for two

    This used to be a place for two
    Where I’d sit and look into your deep blue eyes
    And seem to lose track of all time

    Where conversation had new meaning
    We’d roam the depths of life together
    Hand in hand, day by day
    Where I’d hear your voice right next to me
    And lay eyes upon your face
    While watching your expression as you watched mine

    Where I’d rest my eyes upon your wonderful smile
    That curve that sets a lot of things straight
    And melts my heart like a hot knife through butter

    And where even silence had substance
    Where our eyes did the talking
    And ears could hear only the sound of soft breaths
    And the occasional sigh of love

    But where did it all change?
    Where did it all go wrong?
    For now I only see myself
    Looking back at me, in the gleaming glass
    On the face of my phone, waiting, wishing
    If I’d only hear your voice once again
    But instead I hear annoying beeps
    Or pings, or dreary tones banal
    Those keep me awake at night

    The heart longs for human touch
    But all it gets is steel, plastic and glass
    And the waiting, the anticipation
    That something will happen; might happen
    The mind is hopeful
    The heart filled with desire

    And finally, it beeps! This lifeless contraption
    Has finally come alive
    You send me your picture; my hearts sings with joy
    I know it’s just a picture, but it warms me inside
    I finally see you; oh how long I have waited
    To gaze again into those deep blue eyes
    My eyes can’t get enough of you
    Of your face, your radiant beauty
    Until all I can see is my own reflection
    As the back light dies
    Just like the battery is about to.

    We were supposed to be closer
    With technology, connected at all times
    Then why does it feel different; alone,
    All alone in this place for two.

    © 2013 Mihir Kamat
    Inspired by this week’s writing challenge.
  • Remember

    Remember

    I feel a heavy throbbing in my head that gets unbearable by the second. I open my eyes, but everything appears to be pitch black in what looks like a tiny room. I seem to be surrounded by walls on all sides. I try to stand up, pull open the curtains right above my bed spread. The sudden gush of light blinds me. I try to shield my eyes, waiting for them to adjust. I give it a minute before I start to ponder over some unanswered questions. Where am I? What am I doing here? Who am I?

    The room is cluttered with rubbish. Old antiques, pictures of famous buildings, takeaway boxes strewn around. I see a single bed near the wall, the one that I inhabited a few minutes back. The sheets were brown with layers of dust collected over many years. Springs were popping out of the mattress that seemed to have taken my shape, permanently. There is a clock on the wall, but it has stopped at ten fifteen. I don’t know if that’s the right time, and I don’t know what day or year it is. Talk about losing time.

    I study the far wall and see a single door standing out. I am curious as to where this might lead to. I might just sit here doing nothing, but I have to clean myself.

    I grab the doorknob and twist it ever so slightly. The knob clicks, but the door doesn’t budge. I see the door is jammed, and I have to give it a slight jerk to force it open. It relents. I pull the door to myself, not knowing what to expect on the other side.

    I see a calendar, pinned up to the wall. It has bold, block letters that can’t be missed. The calendar is set to May 2013, with the first five dates canceled out. I see a felt marker tucked at the top of the calendar; I pull it out and mark the sixth. I know what this means. Today is the sixth day of May. The year is 2013. Quite a weird way to find out.

    I continue to look around. On the right, I see a wall with myriad pictures, wall hangings, newspaper clippings and colored paper tacked up with words scribbled on them. Like a freaky storyboard. I see a mirror at the far end of the wall; I run towards it to get a good look of what I might look like. Why don’t I know what I look like? The question gives me a headache. I see a middle-aged man looking back, ragged, flaunting what looks like a three-day stubble. I’m wearing a plain, deep blue t-shirt that has no markings, on top of light blue shorts. I have a scar on my forehead, a remnant of a deep bruise; a reminder of some sort of serious injury. I look into the mirror and see the reflection of a sign on the other wall, written boldly in red. I look back and study the marking that says “Start here”, just above a bunch of pictures. What next? The sign is pretty obvious.

    I come across a series of pictures, neatly arranged and numbered. Like a sequence; a photo album made up in space that occupied on the wall. The first picture is labeled “John”, and I see a younger and brighter me looking back, smiling away. My name is John. I search for and find the date the picture was taken; some day mid 2002. Maybe there were clues of my life strewn around in the rest of the pictures. I walk around the wall studying each of the exhibits. A bizarre exposition of my life.

    A picture of my family followed. I have a mom, dad, and a kid that looks like me. Maybe a brother. The picture says “Mom, Dad and Steve”. Steve. Doesn’t ring a bell. A picture of both of us at graduation, taken sometime in 1995. Too many faces and dates followed. I get ahead of myself and walk towards one of the newspaper clippings. The date reads November 12, 2007. The photo shows a car crash; a red wagon mangled and engulfed in flames, what was left totally unrecognizable. The headline reads, “3 dead, 1 injured in horrific car crash at Easton”. I continue to read, realizing that the one that survived was me. I couldn’t hold back tears realizing that the family I had just found was no more. I felt empty, alone, helpless. And I still didn’t know where the hell I was.

    I kept reading and found out some facts about myself. That my name was John Keaton. I was 30 years old, and this was my house. I’d lost everything in a car crash a few years back; my family, my job, my memory. A little more reading unearthed the fact that I’m unable to retain anything more than a day’s information. My mind is a clean slate every morning. Like a crazy hangover that lasts a lifetime.

    Imagine walking through a door, only to rediscover your life. Every day. I could think of it as a nightmare put together by the various puzzle pieces I left behind for myself to find. Or as a brand new start without any baggage. The choice was mine and only mine to make. The fact that I’d survived meant a lot. I think I’d made the right choice today. To continue down the path of hope.

    I see the last piece of yellow paper tacked to the wall that says, “Tomorrow never comes”. As if I’m going to remember tomorrow.

    © 2013 Mihir Kamat
    Inspired by this week’s writing challenge.
    Image courtesy of Google.
  • I brought my heart

    I brought my heart

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    I brought my heart, with me here today
    But I don’t know why I’m feeling this way
    The moment I saw you walk in through that door
    A beacon of beauty like a light off the shore
    I didn’t believe in love at first sight
    But one look at you made this feel all right
    Our eyes; they just met, locked into a gaze
    I’m lost and confused, stuck in a dumb daze
    No words are exchanged, our heartbeats communicate
    The sound of our breaths just fills in the wait
    Well, I brought my heart, with me here, today
    And I don’t know why I’m feeling this way
    Because when you walked right out of that door
    I didn’t have my heart with me anymore.
    © 2013 Mihir Kamat
    Inspired by this week’s writing challenge.
  • The scent of freedom

    The scent of freedom

    A thousand suns may have come and gone
    A thousand moons so brightly shone
    But the lone warrior stands tall and taut
    Stronger than ever, its metal wrought

    For eons it stood the test of time
    A mute spectator beyond the line
    With blood and sweat and tears withholding
    It bore witness to the events unfolding

    I stand here with my head held high
    My heart swelling, my breath alive
    I’m proud of the legacy they left behind
    Iconic; truly one of a kind

    It was here that our fathers from days of yore
    Their blood was seed, a fruit time bore
    The sweet and fleshy orb that grew
    Was freedom; a spark; an idea anew

    And they lay this flag to symbolize
    That truth prevails over a bunch of lies
    A gift of sorts for the coming generation
    Still a unique reminder; some gentle inspiration

    The flag flutters in grace to this very day
    The winds of change are blowing this way
    It gives me hope for the days to come
    For the air is pregnant with the scent of freedom.

    © 2013 Mihir Kamat
    Inspired by this week’s writing challenge.

    NOTE: I took this picture on top of Shay Palace, Leh, on my recent trip to Ladakh. Ladakh is extremely beautiful, picturesque, and one of the best places to visit in the summer.
    Image copyright of Mihir Kamat.
  • Stateless

    Stateless

    Beware, O keepers of this fine state
    The pot has begun to boil, its contents steaming
    Waiting to overflow and consume everything in its path
    Like a rabid volcano awaiting climax

    These people, your people; the very same
    That voted you in have now had quite enough
    For when I stare long and hard into those quiet eyes
    I see discontent seething in the cold abyss

    Their eyes are filled with great expectations
    And fabulous dreams; dreams of a better future
    Than what their past has had to offer them
    Each day their confidence in government shaken.

    I sense fear in their demeanor;
    Fear of not knowing what tomorrow holds
    Fear of living each day as it comes and praying
    That they can just make it through the long, dark night.

    The days and nights alternate endlessly;
    They come and they go like the soft touch
    Of a light wind blowing, unable to make its presence felt
    But still fueling a fire that burns brightly within

    And as the mercury rises, the heat unbearable
    A day will come when they would tear down the facade
    Of your false promises, and expose your decayed core
    Mocking you for your inability to provide for their simplest needs

    I warn you, open your eyes now and smell the coffee
    For the day is not far when the people, your people,
    Would turn your scepter, your symbol of power
    Into a mere piece of firewood, vulnerable to a naked flame

    And from its ashes, like a phoenix will emerge
    To spread its wings like never before;
    A mind that is free and one that always will be
    Stateless.

    © 2013 Mihir Kamat
    Inspired by this week’s writing challenge.
    Image courtesy of csmonitor.com.
  • The wheels are in motion

    The wheels are in motion

    It’s quiet outside
    Maybe too quiet
    The mind is restless
    It won’t go to sleep

    It seeks answers
    To a million questions
    Solutions to problems
    Searching, waiting, and watching.

    The heart joins in
    Beating slowly, in a deep rhythm
    Music that pushes the mind
    Forward on its unknown quest

    Yet there is something missing;
    The mind knows it is alone
    But longs for something more
    Than just the ordinary

    The body can’t take it anymore
    It craves for a piece of the action
    It twists and turns
    Spinning out of control

    The wheels are in motion
    The quietness all gone now
    The fire burns brightly within
    A spark is all it took.

    © 2013 Mihir Kamat
    Inspired by this week’s writing challenge.
    Image copyright of Mihir Kamat.
  • The hangman

    The hangman

    A wintry day, not so long ago
    Amidst the falling flakes of snow
    A man was taken to the gallows
    His lips were pale, his skin was sallow

    But no sign of fear; no glint of sweat
    No show of remorse, no hint of regret
    For he was proud of what he had done
    If it were left to him, he’d watch them all burn

    He sneered and hissed and laughed aloud
    And pointed fingers at the crowd
    He cursed, he bellowed, “I will rise again,
    I will be back to cause more pain!”

    The hangman, he was brave and tough
    Made up his mind; he’d had enough
    He shouted, “Quiet, now this must end
    To hell’s dark depths you must be sent”

    The mad man looked him in the eye
    He knew he was about to die
    But he laughed away with merry mirth
    The blood-curdling sound seemed to shake the earth

    The noose tied tight around his head
    With one fell swoop the man was dead
    His legs flailing with the wind so strong
    A quiet end to a life of wrong

    Another year; another night
    Through the darkness pierced the light
    The sun brightened up the early morn
    While a woman screamed, her baby born

    And as the wall clock counted five
    His promise kept; he was alive
    The man had risen from his tomb
    He made his way to her tender womb

    The baby laughed; it did not cry
    You could see the evil in its eyes
    His promised revenge had just begun
    The hangman was now blessed with a son

    The baby, his child; his son indeed
    Poisoned fruit born of his own seed
    The years went by; the day had come
    The child knew what he needed done

    The child was stronger than before
    The hangman could not fathom what was in store
    The child went about his killer spree
    The father hung from atop a tree;

    Then the child laughed; without rhyme or reason
    The madness evident in its ghastly completion
    There was no remorse; no place for sorrow
    A dystopia in the wake of tomorrow.

    © 2013 Mihir Kamat
    Inspired by this week’s writing challenge.
  • The plot of land

    The plot of land

    The welcoming earth lay vacant in the spring
    Untouched, unkempt, with wild flowers blooming
    With the sunset in the eve its beauty would peak
    A dazzle of golden with bright orange streaks

    A pool of water so silent and serene
    A spectacular dimension to the surroundings so green
    And a large oak tree right near the edge
    Towering over the little shrubby hedge

    The emptiness begged for fruition so much
    A blank canvas it was seeking an artist’s touch
    Like the surge of the sea the ideas were flowing
    With every great thought the excitement growing

    Would it play host to a home cozy and small
    Or give children space to play with bat and ball
    A perch for lovers to rekindle the fire
    Or a place for old folks to relax and retire

    But how could I take away the beauty that existed
    Replace it with concrete; the idea seemed twisted
    How do I steal it from under nature’s caring hand?
    What was I to do with this plot of land?

    The answer was clear, it began to make sense
    It was so simple, nay just commonsense
    A beautiful garden, the plot would remain
    A place for nature to blossom again

    The birds and the butterflies would flutter once again
    The grass would look greener when bathed by the rain
    With the cool summer breeze calling out as before
    To see man and nature together once more.

    © 2013 Mihir Kamat
    Inspired by today’s Daily Prompt – A Plot of Earth
  • Second chance

    Second chance

    I lie here wide awake yet
    I feel like I am dreaming
    All I can hear outside are
    Loud wails and excess screaming

    I see death smiling in the corner
    He’s waiting at my door
    He says he’s here to take me home
    To offer me much more

    He says I lived a mediocre life
    A life full of plans and caution
    The life I lived was not worth much;
    A life easily forgotten

    He promises to take me to heaven
    He appeals fervently to my heart
    He offers me a brand new experience
    He paints pictures of a fresh new start

    But then I see all the faces around me
    Loved ones gathered, saying their goodbyes
    And while I was taking my last few breaths
    I looked into their eyes

    I made my decision; I wanted my old life back
    I made a difference to all these people here
    So what if I lived a mediocre life
    I must have spread some cheer

    This was my world; this was my heaven
    This was where I was needed
    My life may not be worth much
    But it looks like I had succeeded

    Death admitted defeat and walked away
    He left me to my fate
    I had just received the gift of life
    With death walking out the gate

    And with that I snapped out of
    My stupor; my deathly trance
    It was my time; my fresh new beginning
    My second chance.

    © 2013 Mihir Kamat
    Inspired by today’s Daily Prompt – Karma Chameleon