Slaughterhouse For Babies

Deep within the serene abyss of my mind, exists a slaughterhouse for babies. It has 9 chambers. Following is a brief account of what happens there.


Chamber 1:
There is a pack of hungry hyenas. Subjects are thrown in from a small window in the ceiling. The animals are skilled at their noble task. They slowly and painfully rip the subjects into little pieces.

Chamber 2:
There is an executioner with a sledgehammer. A conveyor belt carrying the subjects passes through the centre. Subjects' heads are crushed into bits.


Chamber 3:
A conveyor belt carrying the subjects into a hot tub of molten lava. What happens next, requires no explanation.


Chamber 4:
A 100 meters deep pool of electrocuted water. Subjects are thrown in from the top. They are reduced to skeletons before they can ever hit the bottom.


Chamber 5:
A conveyor belt carrying the subjects passes through a huge chopping machine. Subjects are chopped into little pieces.


Chamber 6:
Subjects are thrown into a 500 meters deep pit. The experience is meant to break each and every bone in their body.


Chamber 7:
An executioner with a small razor blade. Every hour, a subject is thrown into the room. It is the executioner's task to slaughter the subjects using his blade. He is encouraged to use his creativity in making the process as painful as possible.


Chamber 8:
The cold storage room. Subjects are allowed to freeze to death. There is obviously no shortage of ice cream here. Eat all you can, you little ones.


Chamber 9:
It has no door, no windows and absolutely no way to get out. The walls are unbreakable. There is no light. The author is locked in this chamber. He has the key to shut down the entire facility. 


The pathos must be understood. Otherwise, the puzzle will never be solved.

Danny Vuojosk Part I – The Problematic Scenarius

Warning: Explicit language, reader's discretion is advised.

On a fine Sunday afternoon, the Great Makessay was meditating. The vibes of communist energy were flowing through his mind, body and soul. The Great Makeesay was on his way to redeeming his destiny of deliverance of mankind. He was sitting at a coffee table in the Mall of Lahore, which is a really good place to meditate as it is dwelled upon by the pure of heart and spirit; the most beautiful of this beautiful Russian city of Lahore.  Provoski’s deep nirvana was broken by a sudden voice. An intrusion! Behold! An angel had appeared before him…

Greetings! Oh Great Makeesay! The leader of communism! The rising red star! The successor of Lenin! The master of virtue! The messiah!

Bhenchod! can’t you see I’m meditating? You accursed and ugly angel. For indeed you are very ugly. Your wings are ash black, your nose is deformed, your eyes are squinted, you have a bad breath, you walk without grace  and you walk as if you are limping. I swear on Lenin, you are the ugliest angel I have ever seen. What do you want from the Great Makeesay?

Forgive me O master of communism, I did not mean to disturb you but its my duty to warn you of the imminent danger. Your case is lost. The revolution CANNOT happen. You should go back to the communist heaven, to where you came from! Russia is no longer worthy!

SILENCE! Madarchod! How dare you feed me with your pessimism you monstrous angel?

O Great Makeesay, take a look around yourself, you are surrounded by animals and reptiles. These are not people. These are Vuojosk’s children… They are dogs and bitches and reptiles

And Makeesay Provoski lifted his eyes to observe his surroundings and was horrified at what he saw for it was truly a very graphic and gross sight:

He was surrounded by hundreds of animals. Dogs, Bitches, Reptiles… all of them mounted on each other as they licked, bit, defiled and molested each other, without any discrimination of species. A thousand clitorises ripped open. A thousand penises made their way into what seemed like caves of reptilian birth.  This sexual frenzy went all over the place, in the shops, on escalators, even outside the mall, in big cars, in small cars, on motorbikes, amongst dogs, bitches and reptiles of all classes, rich, poor, everyone… in entire Russia.

MADNESS! MADNESS! MADNESS!!!

O Great Makeesay! You cannot deliver these people. Voujosk is their Messiah! They only want him and not you. They want… The Danny Voujosk!

And Makeesay Provoski just stood silent before the ugly angel. For he did not know who this man was! Who and what! Danny Vuojosk?

To be continued…

That One Person – Part II (The Zahir)

According to the writer Jorge Luis Borges, the idea of the Zahir comes from Islamic tradition and is thought to have arisen at some point in the eighteenth century. Zahir, in Arabic, means visible, present, incapable of going unnoticed. It is someone or something which, once we have come into contact with them or it, gradually occupies our every thought, until we can think of nothing else. This can be considered either a state of holiness or of madness. (FAUBOURG SAINT-PÈRES Encyclopedia of the Fantastic (1953) Excerpt from The Zahir by Paulo Coelho)



I first came across this term “Zahir” when I read a book of the same name by Paulo Coelho. I am using it here in this article because The Zahir defines the ultimate obsession for me. The state of absolute and final madness, from which there is no return.

Yes she was The Zahir for me. She still is. And perhaps she’ll always be. Maybe that’s not true. Maybe I am just too weak to think of anything else. Maybe I’ve surrendered my mind, body and soul to her memories. Maybe it’s a phase. Maybe time is a perfect healer. Maybe all “Maybes” are just lies that we feed to our sad little souls to keep ourselves from falling apart.

I vividly remember the moment I first saw her. The color of clothes she was wearing. That look on her face. It runs like a film in my mind. As a matter of fact all her memories do. And If you ask for my honest opinion on the whole film-like memory process, it is quite painful. Painful enough to bring me to a state, which even by my standards, far exceeds madness.

I am sad and I’m hurt. I can safely say that my soul is battered and bruised. My heart is broken into pieces. I sometimes cry when I’m alone. Sometimes I have to hold back my tears when I’m around people. Sometimes I have to kill myself to stay alive. Because I believe pretention is worse than suicide. In pretending to be happy, we are punishing ourselves more, as we are hiding our true emotions and feelings, just for the sake of others or perhaps for our own good. Yes I have died. Or at least something inside me is dead. And I know it will never come back. The aura of those times, is gone forever…

Do I hate her? No I don’t. I have no reason to. You never hate “that one person”. You always love her. That is the mysterious power of love. You keep loving the person who hurts you. You try and condole yourself and give justifications to your mind for that one person’s sake. Justifying her actions to be right. And her actions were right, at least in the end they were.

So I will write no further parts to this article in the future. Because I know that there is no end to it. Also I believe that the beauty of writing (good writing) is to leave some room for the reader’s imagination, to deliberately leave certain things open to interpretation.

But the problem is that The Zahir can’t be forgotten. It stays with you. I believe it stays for all eternity and I truly hope for that. Because what you can’t get in this world, you hope to achieve in the next. So Maybe “That One Person” will be there in everything I write or do… Maybe… at least so I choose to believe!

That One Person – Part I

Throughout the course of our lives, we meet countless people. Most we forget. Some we remember. But I believe there must be this one person in your life that you have met and you will never forget.

So one fine day that person comes in your life. You can feel it. It’s a very special moment. Perhaps its the most special moment of your life. The chemistry develops and an amazing new chapter opens up in your life. You are flowing with the flow. You are free falling. It is the most exciting time of your life. You get so lost in it that you tend to forget the bitter realities of life, your worries, your problems and your depression. You even tend to forget that you can’t get it all; A simple truth of this life that you ought to familiarize yourself with and remind yourself of, frequently. But you don’t want to think about it. Ignorant Fool!!!

You cherish and enshrine each and every memory with that person. You try to save each and every moment. Pictures, emails, messages, cards, gifts, things, songs, everything you save and protect like crazy. You have become crazy. You are mad. You are obsessed. That obsession only grows with time. You don’t know that you have fallen so deep that you’ll never be able to come to the surface. Perhaps you’ll come to the surface but you won’t be able to walk. You’ll pretend you are walking but actually you are not. You are dragging and lingering.

Time goes on and one day that person is not there. Gone forever. You can’t believe it. You keep staring your phone. You check your email after every 10 minutes. You want communication. You want it badly. You want it all back. You wait and wait and wait… You have regrets, pain, hopelessness; you want to go back in time. Fix things. But time is a one way ride, only goes forward. The memories that you once cherished, haunt you now. You see them running in your mind like a Polycolor film. You know life will never be the same again. That one person is irreplaceable. You go even crazier. Nothing comforts you. You are dying from inside. The sky seems scarlet red and even the brightest of days seem dark to you. Because that one person is not there.

With regrets and sadness you live your life. Sad and crazy you will remain… Forever

To be continued…