UnpredictableThe World of Messy Words

The World of Messy Words

Suppose, I divert from my writing style, which people refer to as “your voice.” A distinctive expression that sets you apart from others. A phenomenon only you are capable of producing over and over again and not getting bored of, even if it’s utter rubbish you pen down, your voice somehow speaks out with élan.

My reason for creating this category of “unpredictable” wasn’t an unexpected call. It was all planned and sieved to satiate the selfish writer in me. I fancy to beautify other’s stories and present it here for you to relish, but sometimes I crave to write whatever the fuck I want to jot down.

Faith is a hallucinating drug. You seek to take refuge in the nebulous kind of religion and it lets you sniff on the drug to alleviate your inner soul.

Nothing hurts you more than the mired words smothering inside you. –Spit them out. If you think too much about what you want to say, better  join politics, as that’s a place where you can slit your throat for uttering something other than it was civilized for.

-I am writing this down of pure indignation, not that there has been some outrage, but I want to be impartial with the numb me to set myself free.

“In the Saharan regions of South Africa, live inhabitants by the name Tuareg. Tuareg comes from the Arabic dialect, meaning “abandoned by God.” They do not call themselves as Tuareg though, but refer themselves as Imohag, which means “free men”. They are referred to as the Blue Men of the Sahara or Men of the Veil, because of one of their striking attributes of wearing an indigo veil.” I find their way of living exotic yet enamoring. “One of the traditional dance of this nomadic blue tribe is called Tam Tam, where the men on camel circle the women while they play drums and chant. Most of the Tuaregs practice some degree of Islam and are not inclined to strictly follow many Islamic rituals but they have preserved some pre-Islamic traditions. The women are given great freedom to participate in family and tribal decisions. This blue tribe was recorded in the 5th century BC. by a Greek Historian Herodotus.”

The pain is easing off and everything I had choreographed in my mind is dancing at my fingertips and the burning sensation is making me tap my fingers on the keyboard to create a messy world of f***ing words. 

How endearing God is to some people and being abandoned by Him is surely going to be a traumatic experience. This is the reason behind the name Tuareg (abandoned by God) given to this nomadic tribe. Even around 2002, an American Baptist group organized an exclusive day of prayer for the Tuareg, to let them know that God loves them and the Tuareg on the other hand, wanted to be the free men not slaves to any master.

I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings but one thing that I see is that; Faith is a hallucinating drug. You seek to take refuge in the nebulous kind of religion and it lets you sniff on the drug to alleviate your inner soul. I have my sympathies with the people who have been sniffing the hallucinogen, but I thought it’s a good time to prick their illusionary bubble.

-I find the story of Tuareg fascinating, as they seek not the acceptance of a divine someone, but themselves. They seek to be happy by being free from the rules some deity has proposed to be followed.

When I look at what I wrote before this, I found that I censor myself too much. I am too pensive to type down my thoughts. This is where I need to belong to the Imohag (free men) and let myself loose and wild to capture the essence of the stories I want to write and to find freedom, peace and happiness within me.

This is where the brilliance will come from if the stories are not censored. I tried to divert from my norm of writing and somehow I reckon found my true voice. This fluidity of thoughts is what I like as there is no thinking involved, but mere words flowing. Perhaps, this is how it should be. The pain is easing off and everything I had choreographed in my mind is dancing at my fingertips and the burning sensation is making me tap my fingers on the keyboard to create a messy world of fucking words.


Photo Credit: Emiliano Pennisi (Flickr Creative Commons)

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Australia
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