Grand Plan – Haseo of Birkini

October 8, 2025

Jambi is a prose writer who likes the word ‘coincidentally.’ He authors his life’s script in a way he could have many moments he could describe as ‘coincidental.’ However, his grand plan is to get arrested at the age of fifty-five. Jambi is currently in his twenties. But the age ‘55’ is selected because he likes the number. That is Jambi, and that is his picture.
        On the day Jambi had this idea to get arrested at fifty-five, he bought a huge van. It is better to start working towards his grand plan. He had a spacious basement that only his teacher knew about. It was wide, with two bulb lights dangling. It was not painted, as there was no reason for it to be. It had two large hospital beds in there. Each of them had big black straps. There were four big tissue rolls in the area where he kept his whips and sticks. It was stuffy in there and extremely quiet. You could hear your thoughts in there. But Jambi had always been on the paranoid side; he still took precautions. He never entered the basement fully dressed. He would remove all his clothes and walk into the basement naked. Maybe he thought Big Brother did not like raw flesh or only saw clothes. Or maybe it was a way to avoid the mistake of taking his phone with him into the basement.
        His teacher found this odd too when he first brought her to the basement. For context, they were close. Or as Jambi would sometimes respond to the question, ‘How close are you with your teacher? I always see you with her.’ Jambi would respond, ‘I have used her toilet before. I have seen where she does the deed, where she lets it flow. We are close like that.’
        Although Jambi had also confessed that he did not know about her husband’s private life, he had suspected there might be more to them. The few times Jambi had visited her house when invited to a social gathering, she would often sit on the floor like a dog whilst the guests and the husband sat on the chairs. She would play with her cat, which she had given a sticky name to. Jambi recalled the cat licking his hairy legs and gliding on them.
        ‘Jambi, cats sniff out spermatozoa, and that’s why she is all over you.’ The other guests and the husband observed the cat and nodded.
        On the day Jambi took her to see the basement, she showed some hesitation, which is understandable. Jambi had only mentioned that a relative was in a bad condition.
        “Jambi, what do you have here? Why did you bring me to this place?” To Jambi, he sensed she may be struggling to fathom how he could own a place like this for himself, considering the economy.
        “I am an artist. This is where I paint. It is a space where I can co-produce with you. We could rip open and be shell-less, become fusions, become bombs always about to detonate. This is where I can look into your egg eyes and see the moon. This is a place we could suspend ‘this,’ we could forget about words, forget about our scripts, where we can become children, adults, birds, camels, cows, Ino, Mbuk, liquid, blood, nouns, adjectives, where I can perform as love as a whole…”
        Jambi’s mouth carried many images beyond his control. The teacher noticed that Jambi had surrended to his shadow and decided to reinforce the side of Jambi that had a coherent script. She moved a few distances from Jambi and sat on the ground. Jambi did not look at her and kept listing more images. The teacher lay on the ground with her two legs spread apart, and she started singing a song in another language. Jambi and the room became silent.
        Jambi knelt immediately. He bent like a squirrel and moved closer until his face covered the velvet birthday cake which had appeared on top of the teacher’s bush. He raised his head and looked at the teacher.
        “Why is there a cake with fifty-five candlesticks placed here?” Jambi asked the teacher. The teacher did not look at Jambi or stop singing but instead increased her voice.
        Jambi stared at her as she sang and shifted his attention to the cake. He looked at the coloured candles and the number 55 written on the cake in disbelief.
        “Happy birthday, Jambi,” he said to himself and blew out the candles. He removed the candlesticks and put his head inside the cake. The cake started to tear apart; he kept thrusting his head until his entire head and body were in another basement of the teacher. Jambi could still hear her singing. Although the melodies were muffled, he could not hear her clearly because of all the liquid that had filled up his ears. Jambi decided that the only way to still hear the teacher while being inside her basement was to swim to the top section where her mouth was located. He thrust himself until his whole body was completely inside his teacher, and he could hear the song.
        A grand plan is a plan susceptible to change.