Above Them All

I am a great hypnotic, perhaps the greatest. History is testimony to that. Heroin and marijuana have only spurred gang wars or maybe some international diplomatic tussles. I on the other hand have been a runaway winner in this regard. My resume boasts of an impressive Two World Wars and all other annexation and political battles. Ha! Beat that.
I am also a great leveler. I do not distinguish between religions, race, caste or creed or between princes and paupers, Samsons and weaklings or between the fools and intelligentsia. I affect all and sundry. Right from the owner of the next door car garage to the President of a country, everybody likes to be able to pull the strings. I have succeeded long back where others have failed. For I can unite.
I am a magnet. I attract the sanest minds driving them insane! I draw the men out of their comfort zone and get them to live their dreams for a while. Then when they feel being on cloud nine, I crush them under my unforgiving feet. Even GOD and LUCIFER fought for me. I gave in to none!
I am the joy of morning and the sorrow of night. I am the Saviour of many and the Death of others. I am the Greatest Drug of All. I am
Image                                               Il potere è sangue. Sangue è potere.


9th January, 1988. The night wasn’t good by astrological standards and to compound my biological mother’s misery, a flood had swept my native village leaving her stranded in the streets. She had just returned from her usual rounds at the night club having endured a night more miserable than the usual. Only three of her clients had turned up. She was in a foul mood and a delivery wasn’t exactly the thing she wanted on a stormy night. She cursed the baby that came out of her womb.
The pain of the delivery had numbed her mind and she craved for a smoke. Ruffling through dress she pulled out her last cigarette. She had lost a lot of blood and her last word while puffing away in glory was a simple “FUCK”.So was I born, alone, not knowing who my father was, with my breath as my only companion.

Would I survive??I didn’t know.

…….She looked up at me. The blazing passion that lit up her eyes every time she saw me was missing today. They were vacant, perhaps unable to fully comprehend the betrayal that had befallen her. She clutched at my overcoat, her sharp nails piercing into my soft astrakhan. She struggled for breath. As her life slowly left her, She asked, her voice almost a whisper, “Why, why?” The needle had done its work.

 I needed a drink. The pub nearby seemed good enough. I ordered a bourbon. I took the first sip slowly. I allowed a rare smile to cross my lips.It felt good. I felt the power coursing through my veins.The day definitely called for celebration. A hundredth kill;no less. Another drink seemed appropriate.

Who am I?Why do I kill? I don’t know. I have no name. May be I like taking lives. Its a lot like puncturing a fully inflated balloon. One moment its flying high in the air, the next moment there’s a whoosh! and it falls down to the ground like a rag-doll.Or may be I am just a simple man who hates GOD and loves to destroy his artwork. He had probably abandoned me at my birth for this very reason.

Either way, watch out. No one’s safe. Not even you.I am coming to get you all. You might be the next.