Ha, maybe you would say that death is not a quantifiable thing, nor can it be written in the form of degrees (dead, deader, deadest). So it may be a little hard for you to digest ‘Dead beyond Imagination’.
But you see- I fit the bill.
I am 100% dead- so dead that even heaven won’t take me in, as I died there also.
I might have pricked your curiosity by now. You may ask, “Who are you, mister?”
You see, I won’t be able to answer that question. If you asked me to satiate your now fully aroused curious cat, I would be baffled, dumbfounded, blank and totally numb…
So dead am I that I don’t even believe that I existed once upon a time.
Now, now, you needn’t bolt. I am an extremely friendly and peaceable ghost. I promise I won’t make you wet your pants. Nor would I bang your closet doors while you are asleep. I won’t even make freaky sounds when you are all alone in the house. Don’t worry- I am least interested in such stupid hoopla.
But, I tell you one thing- though I won’t go by the conventional ghost rhetoric and harass you- I would sometimes do come by and reside in your body just for few minutes. Don’t worry, I am not interested in the rest of your sweaty body; I would just down your brain, paralyze your Resistance Squad and squish your ego for a time being. It by no means would decrease your brain power or break your Vodafone network of Neurons. Anyways, even if some nano particulate of your brain is damaged by my sudden blitzkrieg, I won’t lose much sleep over it- rest assured in the knowledge that ‘Sona Chandi Chavanbrash’ and ‘Horlicks’ are there to help you enhance it.
You see, I sorely need a marketing agent. Even I don’t like to invade your weak and feeble brain. I hate being Rakhi Sawant, but I have to, to get your complete attention.
Right now, I have invaded the mind of a stupid, mucus headed blogger.
Hey! this would help me reach out to the online world. How ironic!! I have to resort to that one hateful and repulsive intangible ‘thing’ that had catalyzed my fall.
Now that I have your complete attention, the right question you might have asked me at the beginning would have been, “What are you, thing?” instead of “Who are you, mister?”
Well, even I am intangible. You won’t find me either in Reliance Fresh or Adani.
You see, I am rather like the first law of thermodynamics– ‘I am neither bought nor earned.’ Though, of course you can destroy me, but it would be would be impossible for you to create me. You see I cannot be feigned.
I am that one thing with which you take birth with, out in this hypocritical world. But you lose me faster than you lose your milk teeth.
It’s not that you don’t try to save my a**. You grope me as tight as you could, your conscience- not ready to write me off so soon.
But we are not made for each other. This big, bad world won’t let us be together. You see, it’s difficult to grasp my hand once you decide to give me a slip. Peer Pressure, the turbulent teens, internet and social networking, movies and T.V. – once all these factors start affecting you, I begin to dissipate in thin air.
Well, this pea-brain writer is waking up from his slumber. I think it’s time to reveal my identity.
But before I do so, I beseech you to let me reside in you for sometime at least. Maybe, you have lost me in the process, but I am optimistic that if you try hard, you would find me deep down your heart as a slight bulge. I am still there for you. I don’t make tall claims but I do promise you that I can help you make your life better.
Now if you ask me, “Who are you?”
I would tell you, with a melancholic smile on my face, “I am innocence.”
Alienman 