tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57330192011-11-28T06:09:30.884+05:30EVERYTHING ELSE IS OPINION, a novel by me, Karan Madhok, is a philosophical tragicomedy. I don't write for a select audience, because I don't feel that there are any limits to the type of audience that could enjoy my writing.KARAN MADHOKnoreply@blogger.comBlogger211100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733019.post-33005234641278199332009-02-13T16:27:00.002+05:302009-02-13T16:40:22.017+05:30

I have been God: that feeling is probably the most nauseating thing in the universe. It is difficult to say precisely where we went and how the day ended. It is difficult to try and estimate how many hours or minutes or seconds or days or eons the experience lasted. It is especially difficult to differentiate fact from fiction and certainty from the imaginary and real from illusion and

KARAN MADHOKnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733019.post-54770151547361339592009-02-02T13:57:00.004+05:302009-02-03T00:23:09.456+05:30

I've decided to change the title of my novel from Determinism to Everything Else Is Opinion. It makes more sense to the theme that I'm trying to convey in my story.

KARAN MADHOKnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733019.post-47370623826558717922009-01-21T18:50:00.002+05:302009-02-02T13:48:47.200+05:30

For the longest time, I wasn’t certain when the dream ended and the day began. It seemed like I had already opened my eyes several times before I actually really did it. It seemed like I had been woken up again and again but dreamt my eventual awakening every single time. And then I finally did open my eyes and wake up, and realized that I had already experienced this dream. I got out of the

KARAN MADHOKnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733019.post-67034012374785165852008-12-27T19:04:00.005+05:302009-02-02T13:48:06.695+05:30

If you’re confident, you’re right. With one painless, succinct, and above all, confident statement, Laurence T. Ackmann proposed to close the chapter on any ethical debate I had ever had with myself. There was no escaping it – this was his first and most important step. The line repeated in my head day and night and afternoon and evening and before and after work and alone and with other people

KARAN MADHOKnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733019.post-63379339007026337622008-12-04T12:45:00.003+05:302008-12-04T13:18:03.192+05:30

The sleeping pill had worked. Dr. Natarajan Swaminatha Gunasekaran was having the best sleep of his life. The dreams were adventurous and white and rosy, too. Rinnnnnng went the phone. Rinnnnnng it went again. “Unnnnnh,” Gunasekaran groaned, but didn’t open his eyes. But it rinnnnnng-ed again. “Thevadiya mavan…” Gunasekaran mumbled to himself. The phone had a one long ring, instead of many

KARAN MADHOKnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733019.post-32546240073546232272008-11-10T18:33:00.003+05:302008-12-04T13:17:18.646+05:30

Rakesh Singh, perhaps my closest friend in Varanasi, was a very different person Yesterday. Yesterday, Rakesh was an exemplary model of discipline – his scheduling and organizational skills used to frequently put me to shame. Yesterday, Rakesh had the brightest future amongst the three of us. Unlike him, I didn’t have the motivation to sway away from the guaranteed but limited comfort zone of my

KARAN MADHOKnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733019.post-59111905550136782712008-10-16T10:45:00.005+05:302009-01-28T09:32:31.583+05:30

They were all looking at me. Even with their backs turned, they were all looking at me.“Turn your pages to Mark, chapter… ” said the hypnotic voice on a pedestal, as the dozens in front of me shuffled through their books, “… true freedom is in denying oneself and totally committing… we must lose ourselves… control of our lives to Christ… personal freedom...”Heads nodded. Throats coughed. My eyes

KARAN MADHOKnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733019.post-17830976361327661182008-09-23T12:01:00.004+05:302008-11-29T16:39:56.232+05:30

“She was beautiful, man,” I said, “Best face, best hair, best eyes…” “… Best ass, best tits…” Rakesh added. “Shut the fuck up – I’m serious,” I stood up, “She was just perfect. And you should hear her voice… it was just… mesmerizing.” I slammed my drink down and Rakesh filled it up again. “So, when are you meeting her again?” I sighed and looked out into the Sunday afternoon through Rakesh’s

KARAN MADHOKnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733019.post-89505276645649596222008-08-22T14:00:00.003+05:302009-01-28T09:31:14.848+05:30

I was born self-centred and that is how I was going to die. Falling in love with Anita wasn’t going to change that. It was an uncomfortable truth to accept, but I considered myself mature enough to realize that nobody and nothing was going to be more important to me than me and my time. It was already four minutes past seven. I had the meeting with Ram Ram at eight, and since I hadn’t taken this

KARAN MADHOKnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733019.post-53128805146685114992008-07-30T21:31:00.003+05:302008-08-29T00:31:53.195+05:30

She didn’t say ‘yes’, she said ‘okay’. It wasn’t a moment of jubilation – it was a moment of why-not-I’m-not-getting-any-younger. On the bright side, though, I’m getting married to a girl who I have obsessed about for a year. That definitely counts for something. Everything was finally supposed to come together now. I was going to marry Anita. I was going to have a better

KARAN MADHOKnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733019.post-80052365754437062162008-07-18T15:17:00.003+05:302008-07-21T12:48:14.304+05:30

I loved it when she broke into one of her cute angry rants – complaining about something or the other in her ‘little girl’ voice, waiting for me to kiss her cheek in mock sympathy. This time, it was about the mosquitoes.“Azaaaaad!” Anita smiled and wailed, “Tell them to go! Boo-hooooo!!”I laughed back and reached my hands across the table to hold hers.Wow! I was still finding it difficult to

KARAN MADHOKnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733019.post-84997904885755703932008-07-08T21:28:00.003+05:302008-07-21T12:46:51.990+05:30

Anita welcomed the new day by returning to her characteristic pleasantness.“Can you ask Ramu to make me a cup of tea?” I requested her.“Sure, darling” she said, “You stay right there.”Watching her walk into the kitchen, I stretched my legs out and placed them on the glass table in front. This is what a home should be like. A caring wife and a nice cup of Ramu’s tea. Anita was always nicer the

KARAN MADHOKnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733019.post-79235109168060193822008-06-29T00:25:00.003+05:302008-07-21T12:46:02.771+05:30

“Did you watch the match yesterday?” he asked me. I couldn’t believe this guy. Several different layers of my brain were racing at several different gears into several different directions, but here was Arora, as calm and aplomb as ever. “What match?” I asked. “The India match!” he exclaimed and got off his chair, “Oh, what a game – Nehra made the English batsmen go

KARAN MADHOKnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733019.post-61626399455234453542008-06-18T11:33:00.002+05:302008-07-21T12:45:05.895+05:30

Let’s talk about fear, shall we?Fear makes people stupid. Fear makes us hasty and paranoid. It makes us shiver in the summer and sweat in the winter. It makes us make decisions we would never make otherwise.But worse than fear is terror. Terror is fear on steroids. Terror can make fear look softer than puppies playing with pillows. Terror makes the same afraid people make hastier and stupider

KARAN MADHOKnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733019.post-33169657553769573562008-06-09T11:29:00.004+05:302008-10-24T16:06:31.431+05:30

Oh shit. Oh no. Uh Oh!Right then Anita’s parents walked in, fashionably late as usual.“Azad, beta!” My mother-in-law flashed me with the brightest, fakest smile in her arsenal. “Oh beta, you must be overjoyed.”I smiled back meekly. Her husband didn’t say much as he stood behind her and sniffed the hospital corridor.“Where is she? Where is the baby?” She asked with revolting enthusiasm.I pointed

KARAN MADHOKnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733019.post-84147854613913825972008-05-29T23:14:00.003+05:302008-07-21T12:43:02.514+05:30

“Why did you even risk it?” she asked, “You should’ve let it be sir, our ratings wouldn’t be much worse.”I sighed in disappointment – it was a pity to witness the de-evolution of a supposed intelligent human being like her.“I told you, Atty,” I told her again, “This is what people want to see. We’ve been having far better ratings since teenage boys and fat, lonely men, have started sitting in

KARAN MADHOKnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733019.post-87229559506015432862008-05-23T01:00:00.006+05:302008-10-12T13:24:40.632+05:30

Recently, I had had the realization of why I like to laugh at myself: It was the least humiliating way of coming to terms with the disaster of a life I had led. It was an unusual tactic my brain used to distract me from the stinging unhappiness, but it worked.There had been nothing funny about today.“People come here to die,” he told me, “You should never leave Kashi. It is God’s vessel: ever

KARAN MADHOKnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733019.post-39761081574991118722008-05-18T01:25:00.003+05:302008-07-21T12:39:12.521+05:30

My eyes were on the road. My mind was beyond it.The answer!!! The answer!!! Oh yes!!! Oh, I’m going to tell Anita! That will teach the bitch. I know the answer! Oh, I need to tell someone!I clutched my left hand into a fist and powered it up determinedly. My left hand, mind you. I spit in the face of all you right-handed bastards who have made me feel inferior over the years.I sped up my little

KARAN MADHOKnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733019.post-80711163230285878622008-05-15T00:34:00.006+05:302008-10-12T13:29:47.166+05:30

I was born self-centred, and that is how I was going to die. Knowing The Answer wasn’t going to change that. The universe had always revolved around me, prancing around in whichever way I commanded it. There was no one alive half as important as I am. I only spoke to other people if I needed to. I never loved; I only obsessed – because temporary obsessions gave me something to live for.But I

KARAN MADHOKnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733019.post-13731627285619730742008-05-05T14:07:00.003+05:302008-07-21T12:36:39.711+05:30

Determinism, is an unconventional novel. I had a hard time trying to describe what genre it may be, and the best I could come up with was 'philosophical tragicomedy'.But it may be different things to different people.I guarantee that it is going to be thoroughly confusing in the beginning, but give it a go, and it should start to make sense by around the third chapter!I will be writing and

KARAN MADHOKnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733019.post-46567285533415388122008-05-03T15:39:00.007+05:302008-07-21T12:35:01.286+05:30

Hello,My name is Karan Madhok, and I'm a writer-in-progress... I'm also a correspondent writing for a major newspaper in India.I've written several other novels/short stories, and have been working on this piece Determinism for the past few months.In the next few days, I'm going to start posting the chapters of this novel one by one. The next post will be an introduction to the novel. This is the

KARAN MADHOKnoreply@blogger.com0