The Street Art

Red in Snow at CreativeBazaar

The crunch, slide and slip of tires on a slippery snow covered road. Snow crunching under fast moving feet. A muffled noise! A hastened screeching of wheels! That is how that day started.

Fresh white drizzly snow kept painting the town, trees and window sills. It had snowed overnight and had wrapped the cars parked along the pavement, in white blankets. A pristine snowy postcard-picture perfect street, yet to wake up to the cold white morning. Even the birds had decided to take their own time waking up.

Early morning joggers & dog owners were yet to step out for their stroll, awaiting the first warm rays of their golden sunny friend. But nothing was golden yet, only white! Perhaps, this was how heaven looked like! The heaven stereotypical yet definitive, promoted in movies and books tend to be white all around – white clouds, white silken robed angels with their soft white feathered wings, cupids with bows floating on cottony clouds while rest played harps. If the TV is to be believed, then there is so much of whiteness in heavens, it might be prudent to die with some goggles on, lest you go snow-blind.

The sleepy white pristine snowy morning of the street had only one color prominently displayed at one of the street corners. It was the same corner where Old Man Joe sold hot-dogs, pop and coffee every day noon till late evening. Old Joe’s corner was at a street junction with the convenience store to its side, a pawn shop on the opposite side of the street, while a café and a florist occupied the remaining two corners of the square. A nondescript and ubiquitous town square, that one sees anywhere.

But at that moment, the square held the unique distinction of flaunting color on what could be termed a bleached morning. And of all the colors that could have been; it was painted in the color of love – Red!

This color was usually the dominion of the florist, who always had a bunch of expensive red roses; seducing young couples seeking to express their love while taunting single men to pursue theirs’. But, it was too early in the day and the florist was shut still. In fact, no other store, who could have splashed some color, any color on this monochromatic white landscape, was yet to open for business. Albeit, there was a splash of red on the pavement. The same spot where Old Man Joe would eventually roll-in and would place a red brick under each wheel to keep it from rolling. But then Old Joe hadn’t arrived either.

In fact, the dubious distinction was the handiwork of ‘Runner Tony.’ Tony was not an artist or a painter. He was not an athlete either. He was known as ‘Runner’ because he would barely walk. The only way he knew to move around was by shuffling or running. He was the errand boy of the town, a handy man who did all kinds of odd-jobs. He was always hanging around stores and cafes to help with menial chores they asked of him. Cleaning tables, getting small supplies, fetching a ladder, or some nails. He loved any job that required him to dash from one end of the street to a few streets across. He would be paid in kind or on rare generous occasions in coins.

Evidently, it could be said with conviction, that Tony had no hand in the episode of painting the street. corner in red. His heart – well that was another matter. Tony lay there on that corner while his heart did the rest, bleeding red on the pavement. Warm gushing blood had been mixing with the snow, causing it to melt ever so slowly. More snowfall was creating a reddish-pinkish hue of art beneath and around Tony. A sanguine pool gracefully flowing, as life kept ebbing away from him!

One of those sleepy birds now awakened by the growing light, would gradually fly over this street corner and see this fatalistically daring, bold red brushstrokes distinctive against the natural white canvas. If it could, it might have even critiqued this street-art; Tony’s magnum opus.

So here we are this cold white morning! Tony – who loved running, Tony – born of love, raised with love by a loving single mother, – lay there painting a street corner in a color that symbolizes love; shot in the heart that once loved, felled by a gun that felt no love or saw no color.

A Tangled World of Lobbies

network of lobbies_creativebazaar

The Real Estbanking and real estate lobby creativebazaarate Industry comprising of Builders and Developers, Realtors and Agents, Architects and Engineers, Contractors and sub-contractors who work on plumbing, elevators, electrical, fittings, tiling, carpeting to interiors and more; all sustained by another lobby – Banking Industry. Keep interest rates lowered, let people buy more homes or invest in offices. Boom in housing, more loans. A boom in home prices, real estate agents are happier. One lobby feeds off the other.

Automobile Industry – literally and figuratively driven by Oil Corporations. More cars on road. auto and oil lobby creativebazaarMore consumption. Keep prices competitive. Let them guzzle the life-blood that costs billions and trillions across the globe. Raise taxes of cars, the Auto Industry bleeds but Oil Lobbies hates it more. Cars in Bed with Oil – the lubrication and mechanics exist.

 

Climate and Insurance sector. If Climate change is man-made, then resulting consequences such as climate change and insurance sector creativebazaarrespiratory disorders, agricultural or livestock losses, etc. could be claimed for. Accepting that Climate Change exists is opening the Pandora’s box. But if it is proven that climate change is in fact an act-of-god, then Insurance companies walk scot-free with no payouts. Pollution is good for the brains as it gets polluted too and clouds sensible judgement. Pollution will soon be part of pre-existing conditions exempted from coverage.

 

Cure and Medicine. Rarely will a hospital or pharmaceutical company have enough motivation or see pharma and healthcare lobby creativebazaarfinancial prudence in the discovery of a Cure. Care is cheaper. “Managing” pain or diabetes or cancer is more profitable than curing it. Cure is unsustainable as a business. But are we not lucky that we have health+care providers?

 

An entangled world of networked lobbies, helping each other feed and thrive at the expense of consumers. A frenzy of give and take, sustained by a ever-growing population of hungry, blinded consumers who gives all. Lobbies, legal and entertained by governments. Governments made up of politicians and administrators who takes all!

Insane Writings

diagram1  These amazing writings are by a gentleman committed to the Cambridgeshire Asylum (now Fulbourn Hospital) located near Cambridge, England. He spent three years at the asylum for being in a melancholy mood.

The writings are included among other such writings by asylum patients compiled by G. Mackenzie Bacon, medical superintendent in his book.

diagram2These diagrammatic writings are on the two sides of the same paper ensuring he utilized every mm. of the page. There is no clear evidence if these writings were decrypted to make some sense of what he was trying to convey if at all.

It is a fascinating insight into the mind of perhaps a gifted but unrecognized talent, or just plain rambling horseshit, we may never know for sure.

Especially since the gentleman took his own life by drowning at a public spot. Does that say more about the society than him?

Bacon did come upon a letter this gentleman wrote to a medical man who tried to dissuade this type of writing. The excerpt of the letter is given below:

Dear Doctor, To write or not to write, that is the question. Whether tis nobler in the mind to follow the visit of the great ‘Fulbourn’ with ‘chronic melancholy’ expressions of regret (withheld when he was here) that, as the Fates would have it, we were so little prepared to receive him, and to evince my humble desire to do honour to his visit. My Fulbourn star, but an instant seen, like a meteor’s flash, a blank when gone. The dust of ages covering my little sanctum parlour room, the available drapery to greet the Doctor, stowed away through the midst of the regenerating (water and scrubbing – cleanliness next to godliness, political and spiritual) cleansing of a little world. The Great Physician walked, bedimmed by the ‘dark ages’ the long passage of Western Enterprise, leading to the curvatures of rising Eastern morn. The rounded configuration of Lunar (tics) garden’s lives an o’ershadowment on Britannia’s vortex…

Aah! Bless Creative Imagination!

For more such writings and analysis by Bacon you can read a free online copy here: On the Writing of the Insane (1870)

Source: The Public Domain Review

Flog the Rapist!

flog the rapist A question begs to be asked in the light of the increasingly shame-filled incidents of unchecked rapes in the country.

‘Will public flogging make an effective difference to the growing & seemingly unchecked menace of wanton rapists in the capital and other parts of the country?’

These crimes hurt every citizen of this country, as well as the way the world sees us, causing us to hang our heads in shame. Unfortunately the growing rhetoric in favour of capital punishment for rapists does not seem to serve as a deterrent, as evidence suggests otherwise. The steady rise in violent crimes which comes under the purview of IPC Section 302 (death by hanging) seems to suggest perhaps the death penalty may not be the ideal solution at hand.

Interestingly, there are a number of cases where rapists have been sentenced to incarceration with no effect. In fact quite a few convicts have come out on parole to repeat the offense for which they were incarcerated in the first place. So how is incarceration rehabilitating the barbaric mentality of the rapist?

Sentencing a rapist to life imprisonment without parole may seem like a solution; but it I feel that it provides them a way to hide in anonymity having done the dastardly deeds. Rapists are taken to court with their faces covered by black cloth, of course this is to ensure that the falsely accused does not face social stigma if acquitted. But then once a rapist is convicted (which tends to take time in the judicial process) the media has lost much interest and they hardly find their heinous faces publicized to shame. Even when such convicts get parole they simply merge back into the society and those who have served their term may move to another part of the country to regain the cloak of anonymity.

In the US, the law demands that a person convicted of child sex offender & released back into society has to declare his presence when he moves into a neighbourhood.  But do we have any mechanism to monitor such predators or “in-human” species to perhaps warn society in case of a relapse? Why should rapists be provided this dignity of staying anonymous when the victims who have lost much more, do not enjoy this basic right?

Human Right Activists might proclaim the whole idea of jail-time is rehabilitation. But then our jail systems are unfortunately not set-up to be a place of rehabilitation. Meanwhile, rapists are “integrated” back into the society having graduated to commit their sins with newly acquired professional skills that allow them to find loopholes or get away with impunity.

This author believes that if a convicted rapist can be publicly flogged and repeat offenders are branded as ‘Rapist’ on a visible part of the body, it might prove to be a better deterrent. With prisons overflowing and the wait list to the green mile is increasingly longer, flogging & corporal branding could perhaps be the social restraint we may be looking for? What do you think?

To-do List of a newly elected MLA (LEAKED):

  1. Open Swiss Bank Account (Caymans recommended due Austerity measures)
  2. Prepare a 5 year personal investment plan that gives 200% returns or more
  3. Establish a charitable institution to accept all kinds of “donation”
  4. Repay “personal loans” for ticket & election expenses by means of ‘preferred tender bonds’
  5. Support the ongoing research on “Exploration of Avenues of Praetorian Funds Creation & Tax-proof Channeling “