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    Norman Pinglepop
    Norman Pinglepop
    Norman Pinglepop
    Ebook70 pages1 hour

    Norman Pinglepop

    By Jasmeet Chhabra

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    About this ebook

    Jasmeet continues to be passionate about his private equity investment career, and yet finds solace and sanity in his writings.Distinct from the writings on his professional calling, real estate, in leading mainline dailies and journals, his parallel fiction, an enquiry into the nature and evolution of the human thinking and beliefs, is often an imaginative journey through characters that are in effect each one of us jumping from one time warp & one belief mould to another.While his first novel, CrossRoad was an enquiry into the myriad paths that we choose in our social/ societal role, Norman Pinglepopp is an enquiry into the belief systems that govern the larger drivers of living – fear & love. Jasmeet presently lives in Delhi with his friend, philosopher & wife, Rachita and his 6 year old son Sahil.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherNotion Press
    Release dateFeb 16, 2015
    ISBN9789384878580
    Norman Pinglepop

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      Norman Pinglepop - Jasmeet Chhabra

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      Preface

      GODHOOD as a concept had often intrigued me through growing up years and still continues to be an enigma that has taken me through many journeys resting with Viapassana¹ which finally appealed to my experiential self as a path then just a means to a mental construct.

      Norman Pinglepop is a satire that in a dark manner expresses the long and deep distrust religions, dogmas and doctrines caste in my mind over the years in the garb of a benign power construed as GOD but driven by infirm emotions that drive us humans. It often confused me, how can GOD conduct commerce with his benevolence, if he was all powerful, and then the desire to sift through the motivation of godhood for subservience and GODHOOD for surrender got me to Norman Pinglepop.

      Prologue

      There are two kinds of freedom. The true freedom, where we do what we ought to do and the illusionary freedom where we do what we wish to do. In the latter, we are often enslaved to the pleasures of our senses and the web of our conditioning and hence what is often acted upon is that which suits us in ill- taste.

      This however, is not visible to the naked eye as it is often dressed in fancy and eulogized in the garb of sacrifice, martyrdom, heroism, chivalry and all else fancy sounding expressions.

      I have often wondered at the futility of patriotism dependent on simply protecting the borders of a state while allowing all acts of treason and adultery to be committed inside those realms.

      Would I respond to the call for sacrifice when I know that all I am expected to be is but a poor feedstock for someone’s ambition here or foolery there? And yet the world is agog with the stories of those who live and die for the sake of physical boundaries even as they themselves fall prey to the deterioration in values and morals within.

      In the light of this ill- fitting freedom, how is it that man has given up on thinking? To still romanticize a zombie’s existence, ha, alas!

      This false freedom then forms the basis of power. The power that plays on the sentiment and rules by the brawn of a dying head, devoid of reason and oblivious to the bounty that he hides under a bushel so well.

      The comfort of numbness goes a long way in making lives miserable and then in the honest attempt at witch hunting, fate is the next casualty in the blame game.

      Norman Pinglepop

      Iam not Norman Pinglepop! I am not Norman Pinglepop…

      But does it matter anymore to the hungry hounds? For them, I am Norman Pinglepop and now, they will pounce on me and tear my skin… suck my blood and cast my intestines away for the lesser dogs to prey.

      The very thought of it churns my entire system in a frenzy and I am thinking, Why did I have to pretend like Norman Pinglepop and now, all the glory of those days will return in wounded pride to haunt me, to hunt me.

      Norman Pinglepop! The first time I heard the name, even I was a little surprised. Yet the reverence he received from these Marsh Dwellers was amazing. Then, one day, he just vanished. Ever since, they have made him their GOD.

      It’s only little co-incidence then that they mistook me for him and before I could speak I was already atop the pedestal, the hero of a lost race for a futile cause, a hero nevertheless. Now that I look back it seems so easy… No, we did not look alike, nor did we have anything in common. I guess it’s just that my Marsh Dwellers were tired of waiting and decided that Godlike Norman Pinglepop had taken a new form to awe his humble

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