Its two minutes to midnight, in walks a friend of the devil, sparking off wheels of confusion with his characteristic St. Vitus Dance. He marches on, braving the box of rain falling through the hole in the sky, symbolic of the night of the long knives. The Neon Knight is no stranger in a strangeland here; he is the Iron Man, the Prodigal Son, the Master of Puppets and of course, the Ayatollah of Joka – people call him The Hazmat. The Hazmat teleports into his den, the House of the Holy; rocking by the fireplace, with his favourite whiskey in the jar. His nimble fingers play around with those frayed ends of sanity, teasing them with the razor’s edge.

The Hazmat, who allegedly inspired the Big Brother policy, watches over Joka with his mesmerising eyes, riding it into an interstellar overdrive, at the slightest of his whims. Death has no mercy, neither does The Hazmat. He is a dynamic aggregate of the Gemini Twins – Castor and Pollux; for The Hazmat has ceaselessly unleashed his fiendish nature upon the unforgiven mortals as well as protected those golden souls at heart, leaving everyone thoroughly dazed and confused. It is for him the bell tolls, at which the call of Ktulu spreads like wildfire; in the distance, our own Dark Knight with his 13-inch Katana, the Scourge, can be seen riding the lightning. Pleasantries exchanged, you will never even catch that elusive fleeting glimpse of me; however, my hand of doom engulfs this place like the great gig in the sky. You shudder to turn the page, fully aware that I am not just the beast under your bed, but in your closet, in your head.

An initiative of Three Wise Men, Joka management comprises of a melange of cranky homos, each exclusive in their own fashion. It has been my prerogative to put a smile on everyone’s faces, one way or the other ala the Joka(e)r. The community boasts of erudite homos whose scholarly expeditions are aided by joint efforts to combat royal challenges, reminiscent of Napoleon warring against the Romanovs while playing the bagpipes in his signature style. The aviary of the region can be segmented into – my fair ladies, devoid of any hanky panky, hailing from the classic 20^th century era and those, of the same genus as kingfishers and famous grouses, who act as advocates of the legendary Thomas Crapper.

No zombie, bloodhound, flaming volcano has dared to disrupt my reign or affect the sustenance of this paradise. On your royal arrival at the portals, allegorical to Galatasaray’s stadium, a dark and stormy hurricane will appear humming the localised strains of a certain cult ballad, “In June we came”. A cornucopia of consumables are spread out over the land, each a potent concoction of corn ’n’ oil, to be supplemented by a painkiller, barring which you could be a victim of the planter’s punch. Traversing the blue lagoons could be mnemonic of the Staten Island ferry to Long Island, picking up a few red lotuses on the way. We embrace egalite – do not differentiate between the White and Black Russians, in spite of being immersed in a sea of Red. Cognitive of becoming potential ambassadors of India Inc., we are men ‘o war in the common market with hearts of fire, aristocratic and old fashioned in times of distress, when one often cries out, “bloody Mary”.

Over the next few days, months, years (depending on my tenure at Joka), I will digitally describe our Indian summer, our blue sundays and every other roadhouse blue of life at Joka. As I look out of the balcony in my room, I see a few souls comfortably numb, a few violently orchestrating their high hopes and some others learning to fly. Like most others, the fundamental right to privacy is non existential in this compound purely due to all my pervasive senses. Your inner most secrets lie exposed, and will continue to be so as I keep rocking your heart out. Sleep tight with fright – a constant fear that someone’s always there. Signing off with a Glasgow Smile and a Last Kiss, I shall head back to my chambers to rest in peace.

-The Hazmat

P.S : Etymology of the name – Meaning hazardous, The Hazmat invoked inconceivable trepidation and distress among the inhabitants to such an extent that they never gambled to speak or laugh in front of him and constantly hushed up their friends and kin saying, ‘Has mat’ (in Hindi), ultimately evolving into the present name.

1. Waffelautomat Says:
   March 3rd, 2010 at 2:38 pm

   Fine Post. I searched the entire net for informations like u shared it on this post “The Hazmat | Joka Times”. Thanks a lot, it aided me out.

2. Abhijit Says:
   March 5th, 2010 at 7:01 am

   Someone please explain what this is supposed to mean and how is it relevant/ helpful for prospective student junta who is going to use jokatimes as a way to understand the institute better.

   Thanks!