The Kawi Vengeance


“Whatup butt-steak? Ready for the fireworks. You better be, gonna see them in 2 days.” the head of
guards smirked at me while I was strolling along the lawns of the Kawi Prison. Kawi Prison. One of the
worst prisons in the states. It had a capacity of about 5000 prisoners.And was a nightmare for each of the
felons present there and Yes, sir I am a convicted felon, proudly residing in the Kawi for the past 10 years
of my life in this hell-hole. One of the many lessons that one learns in prison is, that things are what they
are and will be what they will be. Things in the past 10 years haven’t changed a lot. Every fucking day I try
to wake up knowing that it will not be worth it, every day I am thrown out of my cell to rascals like Billy,
Bogs and The Sisters, every day I am fed same old shit they call food. Every fucking day. And why,
because the god-dammned judge appointed by Uncle Sam thought that I killed my slut of a wife. The same
woman to whom I gave my everything, showered her with expensive gifts, made her feel like a princess she
never was, and what did I get in return. The view of her banging another man in my bedroom while I sat in
the car ready to give her a big surprise. The woman I loved went behind my back and hamstringed me.
Then and there I had this huge urge to take out the .38 Caliber from the glovebox and shove all the bullets
down her and her god-damned lover’s ass. But taking control of my emotions I backed out the driveway
and drove away as far as away from that little piece of shit. And then the fucking judge blames me that I
killed my wife and that he found the god-dammned bullet casings in the river. It’s true that whenever life
screws you up, it ends up being pretty bad, and so for no fucking fault of mine, I was given a 10 year death
sentence which meant that I will have to rot 10 years worth of my life in that prison after which I will be
sacrificed to the upper hand. I just sat there as the Uncle Sams’s servant took hold of my fate and decided
what to do with it. As the hammer struck, guards took hold of me and shoved me down the van taking me
to the worst place I ever imagined in the US of A. That was the year 1949. When my good days bade me
farewell and I anticipated the bad ones. On the outside I was a vice president of J & M Holdings. In the
van along with the other chained felons I was transported to the Kawi Prison. The guards and the their
chief stood at the gates to welcome us into our new homes. The old timers in the prison were anticipating
our new stay and were jeering through the wired walls. Our chained asses were led into the room where a
personal meeting with the Warden was organized.

I am Mr Hadley, the warden of the prison and this is Mr Warton the head of the guards and you are
convicted felons. First rule of the prison would be NO BLASPHEMY. I shall not bear that the lord’s name is
being taken in vain inside the walls of these prisons. The other rules you will figure out as you go on.
There are two main beliefs: Discipline and Bible. Here you will receive both. Put your trust in the lord, your
ass belongs to me.” With that the warden completed his introduction and we were led to the delousing
room. Unhooked and naked, the cold water was thrown at me like a fire-fighter trying to put out a fire. After
which the guards threw some delousing shit making me half blind. After which we were marched to our
cells. Marching us in naked like the day we were born, skin burning with the white shit. The realization
comes when they put you in that cell and the bars slam shut. Nothing but all the time in the world to think
about the old life. As the guards went by and the night strolled in the jackasses went about trying to break
some one down. It was a religion as they said. Somebody or the other always breaks down crying and
don’t quit till they reel some fish in. Soon, they caught one. And the chants began, spranging the guards
up from their slumber and making them walk right towards the prisoner who went down. He protested
against them, tried to convince them that he wasn’t supposed to be here. But Warton was not in the mood
for shit like this. He opened the bars and beat him with an inch of his life. Clueless bastard would not have
thought this was gonna come to him on the very first day. The night dragged by slowly with all kinds of
thoughts swimming by.

A buzzing alarm woke me up in the morning. The sound was accompanied by the guards taking the roll call
of the prisoners. And then we were let out of our little cages. Confused, angry, sad I was at every step.
Why would something like this happen to me? What wrong have I done? and such were the questions
that were keeping me aloof and busy all through the first two months at prison. And let me tell you, the
two years you spend at Kawi prison are the toughest years of your life, not saying that the rest years
become easier for you, but you tend to learn to live with it.
Soon around 7 years of my life passed in that prison.

On the morning of May 17th 1956, while taking a shower with dozen or more men. Not caring about the
modesty I go on. IT has now become a habit to shower along with all of them. Only good thing was that
at least the water was, soothing the tortured muscles of mine, Billy, an ex-boxer looms from the billowing
steam and asks me: “Anybody come at you yet? Anybody get to you yet?”. Feeling disgusted I move out
of the shower and walk towards my cell.

Being in the prison, you are forced to do some kind of productive work. Although you may not like it, but
it kind of becomes necessary for you to keep your mind busy and keep all the godforsaken thoughts at
bay. So in Kawi, we had to work in a laundry which used all kinds of industrial washers and presses. All
though a nightmarish job, it helped me to keep sane in the world of mad-men.

One day while slumming my ass in the laundry, John comes up to me and says:” We are running low on
Hexite Bruce, Head back up and fetch us some.” Obeying the orders I walk to the room of boilers and
furnaces where all kinds of sump pumps, old washing machines, pallets of cleaning supplies and
detergents are kept. Spotting the drum of Hexite, I pick it up and turn around only to find Billy and his
accomplices blocking my way. Peter and Rooster cover me from the sides while Billy looks at me from the
eyes dripping with lust. Grabbing a handful of Hexite, I try to warn them against coming at me. but both
they guys hold me tightly and bend me up against an old washing machine and then Billy comes into
action.What happened next, I guess you should know that. Prison life is no fairytale.

Things like this went on and on for a while. Prison life consists of routine, and then more routine. Every
month or two, I would show up with all kind of bruises and signs on body. Needless to say, Billy and his
team had found a dumb victim in me. Although I never gave up the fight to save myself, because if I did
not fight, it would make it much more easier not to fight the next time. Sooner, I started having all kinds of
headaches, diarrhea, vomiting and shit.Thinking that it would pass, I did not care too much about it. But
then it started to get worse with time. Getting a bit worried, I go to the infirmary to get myself checked. The
doctor took all kinds of fluids like blood and urine from my body and gave me some medicines and let me
off. After a about a week later, I was summoned to the infirmary and told that I was suffering from AIDS.
being completely aloof to the name, I ask him what is this AIDS shit. And he gives me all the high and low
of the disease. Not believing it, I ask the doc to recheck the data and that he could possibly be wrong.
But the doc said he had rechecked the data more than two times and that he couldn’t possibly be wrong.

All shit broke loose for me. All the “WHY’s” I had avoided for so long came back running to me. I was
angry. I was depressed. I was alone. I wanted to run free from this hell-hole.

My wife used to say that I was a hard man to know. Almost like a closed book. I did love her a
lot, but I think I did not know how to show it. I did kill her. Of course I did not pull the trigger, but I did
drive her away from me, and that is why she died. Now I am running a race towards the death. The path of
my run is yet to be chosen. Will it be by the fucking disease that Billy has fucked me in or by the laws of
Uncle Sam.

After the meeting with the doctor, my life changed a lot for myself but not for the prison. I still had to slum
up in the laundry and still had to catch up with Billy.
Finally it looked like I was supposed to die along the laws penned down by Uncle Sam, and I had my death
in two days. And that day I met Billy. I noticed that he had some paper sheet coming out of his pocket.
After he was finished, I sneaked out the paper and quickly hid it before any of his dumbass friends could
see me stealing it. Walking back to my cell, I waited for the night to come to see what was such a paper
doing in that boxer’s pockets. As the night came and the guards locked down the cells after the evening
count, I quickly scanned the paper and it was nothing but a map of the Kawi prison with some special
markings beside the laundry room.Confusing as it was, I decided to confront him what it was about.

Next day, walking up to Billy. I said: “Billy, I know your little thingy beside the laundry. And I think the
warden would not like your little jiggly hula thing.

Billy:” What the fuck are you talking about dipshit?”

I:” I think you know what I am talking about, you ignorant fuck.” And I take out the piece of paper, much
to his horror.

Billy: ” Bastard. Where the fuck did you get this?” And he punches me.

I: “I don’t think hitting me is going to help you, you fuck. I am gonna go straight to the warden to expose
whatever you have down there. Unless, you tell me what exactly it is.”

Billy:” It is nothing. None of your fucking business.”

I:” Oh. Maybe it is warden’s business then.”

Billy: “Stop! Stop! It is a tunnel. Me, Rooster and Peter have been dugging a tunnel for the past 20 years
of our life in this prison. It is almost complete and we plan to escape today.

I:” Well, too bad, ain’t it. The warden will bust your ass pretty good when he finds out. ”

Billy:” Bastard. You won’t tell the Warden.”

I:” Why do you think I shouldn’t tell the warden? You gave me fucking AIDS. You troubled me at every
step of my life in Kawi. Why the fuck would you think that I wouldn’t tell the warden.”

Billy:” because it gives me one shot at prison Billy. I may have been rude to you. I may have troubled you. But
you know how Kawi is. According to my term I still have 5 more years in this hell hole.”

I:” I will look into the matter Billy.

The whole night I kept on thinking what should I do. Should I expose Billy and his group of bastards,
should I escape with them or should I just keep mum and suffer on, after all Salvation Lies Within.

Finally I came to a conclusion. I have suffered enough. First from my wife, then from the Uncle Sam’s
servants, then every fucking day in Kawi. From today on I will stop the fucking sorry state of my life and
be right to those who are wrong with me. Today I decide to go over my impotency to extract revenge. come
tomorrow I shall expose Billy and his team and deny that bastard his one shot at freedom.

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The story has been written for Indifiction workshop. The plot was given By Sandeep Nair.  The post can also be seen here.

How blogging helped me.


Once upon a time I was sitting in my room, getting bored from watching all the reruns of popular TV shows like “The Big Bang Theory”, “How I Met Your Mother” etc. My summer vacations were on and I had ample of time to kill. And true to my word I was feeling like a serial killer at that. My parents kept on nagging me to do something “PRODUCTIVE” with my time. But to be honest, I was too lazy to go out of the comfort of my room and do PHYSICAL work. One day on the dining table, my dad says: “You know that the human mind comes up with 10,000 ideas a day. Why don’t you do something useful with them?  I was like: Dad. Please don’t start again.

Later that night, Ritvik Gautam, writer at Casacio, told me about this thing called Blog. He explained it to me in details and being a good friend he is, forced me to start one of own, so I could at least utilize my time instead of drowning it in the likes of Sheldon Cooper and Barney Stintson.

And then, I began my journey. You see at first when I started writing, I mostly wrote about the crazy experiences I had and the psychological effects they had on me. I never thought I could write a poem or was crazy and artistic enough to write one. But hey, blogging made me write one. Though it is not very good, but hey at least I wrote a poem. First I started at Blogger because of it’s simplicity. I wrote for about 4 months on blogger, but then I needed to expand my wings, so I decided to shift my work to WordPress, and since then it has been no looking back.

Without the blog I have right now:

I wouldn’t have met Lewis Hamilton. Courtesy Indiblogger and Vodafone.

I wouldn’t have received those hampers of Lakme and Dove for participating in their awesome contests.

I wouldn’t have used my emotions in a more better way than to vent it out in the form of writing.

I would not have come in contact with some of the amazing people who write very well.

I wouldn’t have had such a good conversation starters, especially with girls: “Hey do check out my blog” , “Do you read poems, if you do. You could checkout the ones I wrote.”

I wouldn’t have found a way to find my inner voice, like find a way to present my inner ideas in a form acceptable to all.  It also changes the way you think when you start to write on some topics and get to read or hear about them from other people.

I wouldn’t have figured out who I really am. It does sound crazy, but writing something helps to self discovery and gives you a certain clarity.

Blogging not only allowed me to process and channelise my ideas but it also helped me to form them around the words that helped me describe my life.

I once read: These days, you have the option of staying home, blogging in your underwear, and not having your words mangled. I think I like the direction things are headed. 

 

Somethings in life just cannot be expressed truly with words. The same holds true for the connection I hold with my blog and the fact that how immensely it helped me change my life for good. So all the readers out there, I request you to start a blog and convert your thoughts into word, because there is no feeling greater than that.

This post has been written for the WorldCamp Mumbai 2012

Sufferring


I suffered

when you left

Inconsolable

I was

Irreparable

my heart was

The days refused to start

the nights ceased to end.

Loneliness

engulfed me

like a hungry fish

I was left

staring at the wall

unfazed, amazed

as I try to

Live on and on.

An UNTOLD STORY


This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 32; the thirty-second edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is ‘An Untold Story’

“Doctor come in here quickly, patient number 102 is having a seizure.”, shouted the panicked nurse rushing towards the patient to ease her out and prepare her for the quick response from the doctor.

“Quick, give me Piniko 123 and give her the adrenaline boost.” . Doctor took control of the situation ordering the nurse to help out the patient.

But all the efforts put in by the doctor went down in vain. The patient went into Comatose and lay still like a dead body. Her eyes looked as if she was staring into space and her hands were cold as ice, refusing to move on her wishes. Even though being in coma, nothing changed around the patient’s room. Before passing into coma, Patient 102 used to have a quiet way about her, a walk that wasn’t normal around the hospital. Nobody in the hospital knew her name, address or any personal details. Even the efforts to trace down her family were fruitless. All they knew was that she has been here since last 6 decades of her life and has not spoken even a word. She was found by the Chetanbhai Patel Psychology Hospital and Trust gate 60 years ago.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alka wait. Stop. Right now. No. Don’t do that. Control yourself. continuously shouted her mother whilst trying to control Alka from banging her hand on the side of the door and breaking all the glass and porcelain from the table. The floor had become a mess, mixed up with the broken glass pieces, blood from Alka’s head, all the porcelain that lay shattered on the ground. Alka had always been an aggressive child, and her anger fits did not exactly help her either. SHe often went into rage fits and tried to destroy everything that came in her way. mostly she ended up destroying herself. At times she even attacked her mother, her siblings and all.

This became even more difficult for her mother since her father was a drunkard, jobless and remained out the whole day long. His coming home at night wasn’t welcome either, he would often beat his wife and children mercilessly for no reason in his inebriated state. Due to this the mother had to work double her shifts and also come home and also feed the family and suffer her husband’s blows.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What happened alka? Why are you sitting like that crying? said her. mother on seeing alka sitting crouched in the corner of a room weeping.

Maa….Papa…pain…. here…..aaah- said Alka while pointing towards her groin. Alka was only 10 years old. World came crashing down for her mother. She hugged Alka and tried to make her comfortable.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Who is making all that noise Nurse? asked the doctor. Please have a look.

Yes sir, I will-replied the nurse.

Arriving at the gate, nurse saw a young girl of about 10-12 years old tied to the gate of the hospital crying and struggling herself to free her from the rope. Nurse acted quickly and freed the poor girl. Giving her food and shelter she asked the girl about various questions. But no answer came. The only response she got was from the continuous wailing. Nurse however did manage to stop her crying, but failed to get any response from her.  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What happened to the patient 102 nurse?

She has left the world sir. She passed away from coma yesterday night.

May her soul rest in peace. Have you found anything about her family member whatsoever?

I tried a lot sir, but failed every time. She would not speak a word. We don’t even know her name.

Ohh. Her story will always remain an UNTOLD STORY.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 04