Incredible in India

"Can you at least move your armpit away from my face ?"
"Yes Sir, i am talking to you, thanks a lot for your keen power of observation, which failed over the last 15minutes."
"What ??, No..what exactly will you see out of me at the next stop?..No..please explain !!"
Suraj would have gone on and on, if it wasn't for his colleague standing next to him, who intervened with a swarm of "Sorries" and "Chod naa yaar".
Travelling in Mumbai locals was an adventure everyday. Or so was told by every fellow mumbaikar, who chose to dab Davidoff over this stinking everyday experience of his life. So many people to observe, so many activities that keep happenings everyday, so many discussions, share bazaars, kirtans, The green card talk...wow !!
Ask Suraj. If he was in as bad a mood as he was today, chances are he would have removed your molars with just a minor hand effort.
Any ways, getting back to today. The day started with a call from the in-laws announcing their arrival by next week. The wife got so engrossed in the telephonic, she forgot all about breakfast. Not one to complain, Suraj made haste for office. Time was precious, headcount kept increasing in the bogies with each passing local, and you had to be early to earn your 3inches of floor space inside one.

Office happened. The boss shouted. Twice. Okay not that bad a day, will rank within top 100 bad days in office maybe.
"Suraj can you see me"
5minutes of obscene abuses followed by 15minutes of pep talk. Okay this makes an entry to the top 10.

He glanced at the calendar, 26th !! 4 days to meet the target and two clients had backed out already. Not a pretty situation. Maybe he should apply for a few more openings on naukri dot com. Oh damn the office firewalls.

When Suraj, started out here, he was the star of the team. He was good at presentations, charts, and was often praised for the virtue. Nowadays it acted as a bane for him. As fate would have it he had to make two of them for old Snooty senior, the super boss, before he wrapped up the day. He kept waving bye-byes to all the colleagues from the back of his head, as one by one exited. The day was coming to an end finally....or so he thought.

Suraj lit a cigarette and started out his hurried strut to the CST (Chattrapati Shivaji Terminus - the hub of central and harbour line railways for Mumbai locals). The watch suggested 9pm already. Another late worked up day. How much is he going to be able to take. The wife had called thrice already, but he was in no mood to entertain her. The family planning exercise was entering the serious stage. There had been a heated exchanges on that off late. In his mind, Suraj also was suspecting if his in-laws were coming in to gang up against him on the issue. Hell, it wasn't fair !! The only thing his side of the family was concerned with is how much money he sent home religiously. That was beginning to get difficult too. The dip in the stock market, made way for salary cuts, severance and things actually did look very bleak. Hell 2008, why wouldn't you end faster !!! It looked as if the whole universe conspired against him.

World weary, Suraj entered the big structure called as the CST. When he started off in the maximum city, he was too excited to see the CST. This is all they showed about Mumbai, in the old movies, and that scene made an impression on millions of small town kids like Suraj. Not now. The look of the crowd irritated him. As like everyone else in the crowd, he hated the crowd, not realising, he was a part of the crowd himself !!

He needed to take a leak before boarding the train. Suraj made it towards the smelly rest rooms. Just as he was about to enter the corridor, he bumped into a teenager. Bloody teenagers, always on the run, caring a damn for anyone else. This was different but. Something in the youngster's bag poked into Suraj's ribs and it hurt real hard. Ok...he couldnt take it anymore...the frustration had to give way..the anger had to pour in..and unfortunately on this guy......."Hey, Andhaa hai kya bey (are you blind)??" shouted Suraj seizing him from his backpack, that the kid wore.

The "Kid" here was a twenty something in a dark tee and cargo pants with a backpack on, and as he turned back, he tried  removing something furiously from another bag, clutched in his hand. This "Thing" looked black and quite resembled an equipment Suraj had seen in most of his favourite action movies.

It would be hard to describe the bundle of emotions that seized Suraj at that very moment. He was sure this was no ordinary teenager. He was surprised with the sudden revelation of what could be a fire-arm. He was taken aback by the cold eyes, once the teenager turned back and stared at him. But out of all of them, what was most imminent was anger. Anger that was pent up since the morning. And that found vent first. The other emotions started falling in place while the anger was being physically demonstrated by our man.

The resilient eyes, instigated further hatred in Suraj. He caught the lad by the collar and blasted two hard slaps across his face. The kid was taken by surprise and made a mad dash at getting something out of the bag he was holding. Anticipating it to be a fire-arm, Suraj grabbed the guy down on his back and sat over him. Suddenly there was this loud deafening sound of gun shots. Suraj saw people from the lavatory running past him helter skelter. A sudden jolt with a spring like force threw Suraj quite a distance. The "Kid" surely knew his combat well, and it was only a matter of time before he would recover.

It was as much of a surprise to Suraj as it was to the teenager that he landed on his feet rather than his back, after his adversary had flung him in the air. The automatic Machine Gun was almost brandishing in full view now. The only other clear vision Suraj got was of the slowly departing train from the platform. Amidst the noise and commotion, he made a mad rush for it. The words of the "Kid" echoed from behind, "Abu Bhaai.....aage....neela shirt......maar".

The train had picked speed. Suraj caught on to an extended hand by an elderly but strong person. This hand came from heaven. Nothing mattered, the commotion, the blood, and he had already faced away from the view of the platform. The crowd inside the train was surprisingly calm, maybe nobody could think of a conversation, maybe they were all afraid, or maybe they all felt a little guilty of cheating death from so close, while witnessing a part of the massacre, that they left behind them. However they behaved well, almost as brothers, brothers united by a reckless attack. Suraj felt his pants. They were wet. You could not attribute fear as the cause. The body reacts differently to violence, to calamity. And these are rare cases in a lifetime. Hence nothing mattered.  

The wife was in worse shape, than our man, who saw it all. She was angry at him for not having picked up her calls. She feared something worse had happened to him, and almost went into a shock. Suraj, had no time to retrospect, or normalise himself. He hugged her, comforted her, cooked themselves a dinner and after answering a thousand calls from anxious relatives, sat down before the T.V. It was 2 am. There was no office for sure tomorrow. Mumbai had shut down to terror. The news channels were showing several clippings of a young guy in a t-shirt and cargos walking into the CST with firearms along with an accomplice. Suraj's eyes went wide. The news focus shifted to a cafe in Colaba, where some firing had also happened and then the major gunfire at the Taj and Trident. Suraj contemplated calling the police. What use would that be ? Who would believe he fought with a gun weilding terrorist and lived to tell the tale. And more importantly was this information really required at this hour of calamity ?

Over the next few days, news channels dominated the idiot box. Suraj had the expression of a person who had a lot to share but was kept quiet to respect the gravity of the situation. As if it wasn't strange already, the "kid" was the only terrorist caught alive by the Mumbai police. Maybe Suraj's bad luck rubbed over the golden boy of cross border terrorism.

4th May 2010, Evening.


Suraj, kept the office bag on his sofa. He carelessly switched on the television. "Hangman or Not - Ajmal Kasab's case to be decided tomorrow." The dumbfu** news jockey kept repeating himself loudly, purely because of lack of content and stipulated show timings. The wife emerged, visibly angry.
 "I should have got his throat that day, bloody terrorist !!" Suraj roared in mock anger, pointing towards the TV screen. Clearly, wifey wasnt amused one bit. Suraj bit his tongue. He had to keep the volume low, so that the baby doesn't wake up from his untimely slumber. After the usual exercise, they settled before the T.V while having dinner, and Suraj as usual sacrificed his viewer ship to "Baalika Vadhu".

The Facts

Mohammed Ajmal Amīr Kasāb (Urdu: محمد اجمل امیر قصاب; born 13 July 1987) is a Pakistani Muslim terrorist who was involved in the 2008 Mumbai attacks.^[3][4] Ajmal Amir is the only attacker captured alive by police and is currently in Indian custody. The Government of Pakistaninitially denied that Ajmal was from Pakistan, but in January 2009, it officially ^[2] accepted that Ajmal Amir Kasab was a Pakistani citizen. On 3 May 2010, an Indian court convicted him of murder, waging war on India, possessing explosives, and other charges.^{[5]He was captured on CCTV during his attacks at Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus along with another terrorist, Ismail Khan. Ajmal Amir reportedly told the police that they wanted to replicate theIslamabad Marriott hotel attack, and reduce the Taj Hotel to rubble, replicating the 9/11 attacks in India.[3]}

Ajmal Amir and his accomplice Abu Dera Ismail Khan, age 25, attacked the Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus (formerly Victoria Terminus) railway station.

Source: Wikipedia

The Fiction

Whatever you would choose not to believe. Whatever sounded incredible. Whatever happened and whatever according to you might never have happened.

Holy be your Name !!!

“What’s in a name?

For a Rose with any other name would smell just as sweet…” blurted out Shakespeare

How wrong was he ? Names have such an important role to play in the daily scheme of things we encounter in our daily lives.

There is a theory on behavior patterns about familiarity. The famous proven experiment shows an animal behaving in a likely manner, in a conditioned atmosphere. See Pavlov.

We human’s aren’t any different. We are slaves of conditioning too. Familiarity, is a good thing, but can be a vice at times too. Sample this out – What if you went to smoke a butt at a local paan tapri, got all chatty with the guy selling paan-beedis, and happened to ask his name, and got an answer – “Hamaar naam, Ambani hai, Kishen Ambani !!” ????? Was that you raising a brow ? Or did you leave your mouth gaping wide open ??

Understand what I mean ?? Anyways we move away from stereo-types ! Let’s move to the wretched and the troubled.

Let’s move to my name !!!

They named me - “SOUMYA KANTA SINGH”. Right since birth. The name remains. The interpretations have changed and continue to do so.

I think I must have been a toddler when I asked my Mom, the meaning of my name. She’d said it’s another name for Lord Indra, the God of the skies. As I grew up, I realized there was no connection up there. Soumya – meant “Beauty” and Kanta – meant “master of/ husband of” (don’ t hate me yet, Shobha De, I bought your silly garb in paperbacks !!). The name coherently put, suggests “Beholder of the beautiful” !! I guess Mom, was either ignorant or too coy !!

Add the surname as “Singh” and you have got yourself into a royal mess boy !!! {“Oh jee tussi Punjaabi ho ? Nahin jee, Rajput hoon !! Rajput ? Khoon kitta tussi, Bakre ki Bali ditta tussi??”}

It was very early that I learnt the distinction of private and public schools. It was the way they pronounced my name. While in my formative years I was referred to as “Soumyaaa KantO” , I soon lost the extra vowel (be it “A” or “O” as if I cared !!) when I stepped into Sacrament. I was cool, I was hip, I was “Soumyakant”. Soumyakant, A la, Rajnikant, where the name stopped right at the “T” !!! I silently resolved to do away the extra “A” in my name, a resolution I still follow. However documentary evidence kept eluding me, Birth certificate, Voter card, Pass port…..all welcomed the “A” !!! Once a “KANTA” always a “KANTA” !!!

As we grew up, the names started to shorten. I was known as “Soumya” in my gang. The females in my gang, took to me really well, they pronounced my name with an elongated “yaaa” as in “Soumyaaa”. I was their best buddy, they felt comfortable around me, and one of them even asked me out for SHOPPING !!! Mom used to get bugged, every time one of them called on the telephone, “Aunty, Soumyaa achchi (around) ?? “ “His name is Soumyakanta” Mom would correct. I put the blame back on Mom. “You named me, remember ??? “

College days were even greater !! My circle developed notoriously as one of the most infamous groups in the city. They didn’t spare my name. Someone came up with a derivative, that I be called “Chumma” !!! I fail to translate this even now,

I mean, how can somebody explain SOUMYA  SOMA  SUMA  CHUMMA !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

They consoled me, they said it’s cute. I remember trying to hook up with a hottie, after winning the university badminton final. I was the champ, I had it all, I was working my way out, my magic was happening, she was falling for it, maybe she wanted to get along, who cares, she is hottt, whats my next move gonna be, “Chummaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” yelled my “friend” !! “POOF” she vanished !!!

College was great. The variations were nice. The middle name “Kanta” took a beating too. From the famous “Kaantaa Lagaaaaaa……………….” Till the Homo-phobic “Kantaa Ben” from the movie “Kal ho naa Ho”, I heard it all.


The professional life began. The NAME !! Yes the implications were amusing and disgusting.

I have lost count on the number of first-time-meetings I have walked into, and surprised the guys.

Yourself ?

Soumya, Soumyakant Singh, Human Resources.

Oh !!

(Oh what Motherfucker ??!! Say it out !!!)

“We were expecting a girl/lady by the name of Soumya !!”

(Ooohh, did I disappoint you?? just give me 5 minutes, I’ll quickly change into my fake boobies, and a cocktail dress, do a cabaret and then you can seduce me till death, you last breed of testosteroneosaurus !!!)

No worries, I get that a lot, lets resume, shall we Gentlemen ??

South Indians, generally gracious at names, had nice follies, “Somyeah Kanthhhh” or sometimes identified me as their own kin by calling “Swamykanthan”

“Soumya, was a biiiiggg hactress in South India, do u know her Machaa ??” (Yes, and she is dead. Do u wanna meet her anytime soon??)

Bongs – “Shomo” “Somaa”.

“Shomokant Singh, what do you sing??” (I sing death metal, asshole, weird chants, and my next rendition shall be over your dumb-corpse)

Anyways, I end it here. I have never thought of an affidavit yet. My name gives me due and undue attention. Guess I have learned to live with it.

“Hallo, main Bharti AXA life insurance se bol rahi hun, meri baat Soumya Madam se ho sakti hai ??”

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Writer's Block

The Author -

He's breaking into my thoughts. This isn't a coincidence, no ! This has happened for the third time now. Isn't it me who's supposed to be the master ? Why is he coercing me, to change things ? I DECIDE, its always going to be that way. I may pick up a story, i may finish it. I might not finish it !! Who cares ??? As long as the finished product doesn't make it to the book stands. Yes, I write, i write for a living, not exactly though. I am successful, my reputation precedes me. I cant make this vagabond win. No it cant happen. Doesn't it become all cliché ? I WILL let satire rule here. People need to read a definitive ending. Hell, they would want him to die.

Masterpieces get created that way. They appeal to our inner demons, and the conscience makes way for emotions to be chucked out and pathos makes the judgement, deep, underlying and ever lasting. What is stopping me then?

I am not revising the book again, not for the 16th time, no, i am not !! I am not trying to roughen up the edges here. I am not trying to eliminate the similarities Aditya bears with my past life. They just HAPPEN to be that way. Well, why am i aching then ? Why do i want to give this sonofabitch all that he deserves? All that maybe at a point i thought i deserved ? Fellow sympathy?? Compassion ?? Towards a fictional character ? For God's sake Soumya, he is your creation !!! Deal with him in the manner he will benefit YOU the most. You have already thought of his end. Whats stopping you ? Are you trying to play God here ? Raise, fulfill, nurture and cherish ? eh, is that it?? You are a WRITER !!!

He is influencing my judgement. This is my 7th sleepless night. Every time i close my eyes, i see the bright young bastard, hopelessly in love, aimless, free riding from unknown destinations without a worry in his heart. I will not retrospect, no i wont. I wont think about the resemblance, i will not ponder on what went through my mind when i actually created him on paper.

You will die, a death of glory Aditya. Forgive me, forgive my jealousy. I am mortal. By killing you, i fulfill several of my desires, my dreams of accolades, my craving for recognition, but most importantly I satisfy my inner demon. A demon which was an Angel, 18 years ago, and got transformed in the influence of several potions of tragedy innumerable pangs of loss and countless disappointments.

I am sorry my friend of 11 months. We met on paper, but this bond is unexplainable. I might not get convicted by this act of mine, but i know deep within i have sinned, and this shall stay.........

Hindi Cinema - 90's

Lets talk cinema !! Not the Scorceses, not the Spielbergs, lets not even venture till Almodvar or go back in time till David Lean. Let Coppola rest in peace, and lets not even tingle Woody Allen's wit.

Lets concentrate on our movies, lets look at the most under-rated golden era of Indian cinema, the late 80's amd the 90's (i have a reason for this dissection) !!

I am a self confessed movie buff. I happen to pick up any conversation on cinema and my friends are often amused when i can identify the 2nd henchman of the villain or the latecoming cop, mouth his real name and his filmography. Its something that i grew up with, i had an entire generation of movie buffs, my aunts and uncles to look upto. Besides my Kakaji also had a video parlour so i ended up watching my favourite movies as a toddler, multiple times.

The cinema i was exposed to in my formative years was in the late 80s and 90s. Pure bollywood at its best. Something that a large part of the indian audience is despising now, in the quest of "different" movies. But back then, when they hadnt had that over dosage of heroines running around trees, fancy villains' hideouts, heroes avenging "doodh ka karz", "dost ke maut ka badla" or just kicking bad-asses for the pure fun of it, everybody loved it !!! The song sequences shot at cheap foreign locales just for the heck of it, the comedy track which bounced in completely out of sync with the movie's plot, the 1000 odd extra dancers swivelling behind the leading men and ladies, the two reels of car chases, the bootilicious "item" girls, the hero's side-kick who almost always got killed...whoaaaaaaa...the list is unending !!!

I will never be able to categorise the best of late 80's and 90s, create a top ten or twenty. What i would rather do is churn my brain cells and list out movies that have remained etched in memory, forever.....

Tezaab, the name came almost immediately comes into my mind, when i think of 90's cinema, heck it was in the late 80's but who cares. Tezaab, till date is the most complete movie i have ever seen in our tinsel-town. Its a script writer's wet dream !! "Kya nahin hai iss story mein Sir, Action, Drama, Romance, Comedy, Tragedy, Superhit Songs !!" This was as good as they came. Anil Kapoor at his cocky best, excellent support cast, Chunkey Pandey's best role in his lifetime. Superhit songs, the ek-do-teen is folklore now !! Johnny lever and gang in superb form. Annu Kapoor, as my favourite character from the movie, "Guldasta" !!

Speaking of Anil Kapoor, the actor is the last of the living legions of hindi cinema who saw it all then. The 90's where the Khan's came into the reckoning, but it sure did have the reigning kings then. Sunny Deol, was a rage, be it the "Taareekh pe Taareekh.." of Damini or the angry Commander with a necklace of grenades marching towards the Pakistani army in "Border", apna Sunny Paaji  was in top form. I am yet to see a pair of more expressive eyes, from a leading man, in scenes apart from romance. Ghatak, Ghayal, Ziddi, Salaakhen, Vinashak.....he did get typecasted, but never forgotten !!

When he was far away from Gandhigiri, and a litlle from the TADA case, Sanjay Dutt defined the word "Stud" in India in the 90s. Watch Sadak, Daud, Aatish, Yalgaar and you shall understand what i am talking about. People credit Shahrukh to bring about the revolution of the "Anti-Hero" syndrome in Baazigar, while Dutt's Ballu Balram in "Khalnayak", released in the same year was equally competent !! The movie i feel was one of Ghai's best till date (heck he makes duds nowadays !!). Sanjay Dutt in the fancy white coat with a stick in hand, crooning devilishly to "Nayak nahin...Khalnayak hun main...." Superb !!! I'm not even going towards the "Choli ke peeche" rage !! Dutt Jnr. went ahead post his debacles and made "Vaastav" India's answer to "Scarface" !!

90's also saw the advent of the Macho Men in the industry !! Ajay Devgan, launched in "Phool aur Kaante",

 was the true action hero, before maturing into a great actor, see "Zakhm" to know what i am talking about. Sunil Shetty never really did mature, but his initial days of glory shall be worth remembering, Mohra, Anth, Rakshak, Vinashak etc....the jail fight sequence in Mohra between him and a muscleman, the wrath of Shetty in Anth are as raw as stuff can get.

Before Akshay Kumar was killing audiences with his stupid, brainless "Welcomes" and "Singh is Kings", he used to be India's best action star (heck he still is). He round house kicked his way into bollywood, from Saugandh till the Khiladi brigade. The daring stuntsman, Akshay was most remembered for " Main Khiladi Tu Anari" with Saif, "Mohra" with Sunil Shetty, All the Khiladi movies he did alone, Saineek, etc. Remember the billiards table fight scene in Khiladiyon ke Khiladi ? Pure magic !!!! Akshay was also really good in his cameo in Dil Toh Pagal Hai, and a stupendously balanced performance in Sangharsh.

Aamir Khan, continued to win hearts, from Qayamat se Qayamat tak till Ghulam, Sarfarosh. My favourite memories are from Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikandar, the exhilarating climax - "C'mon Sanju change the gear...........TOP GEAR !!", the loveliest of songs...."Jawan ho yaaron yeh tumko hua kya?......" . One movie that i continue to love is "Akele hum Akele Tum" the desi version of Kramer Vs Kramer. I am too emotionally connected with this movie, dunno for wat reason. The dad-son camarederie was fab, i loved the songs, each one of them, even the recording room wala - "Chehra gulaabi, nazrein sharabi...zulfon ki tauba..tauba yeh samaa.."

 Salman Khan was the hottest thing that happened to bollywood in the 90s. We did have to wait, until "Veergati" though.Then came the rippled muscles, the chiseled looks and the string stare. They said he was 6th on the world's best looking men list....The dream followed...Judwaa, Pyaar Kiya toh darna Kya (the bare chested O O jaane jana creating furore), Jab Pyar kisi se hota hai (Salman never looked better).....they just kept coming. Acting ? Most noticeworthy were from Bhansali's brand.."Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam", a restrained "Khamoshi" apart from a superb Cameo in KKHH, or Salman teaming up wid Aamir for the best comedy of the decade "Andaz Apna Apna" !!!

The 90s however did see the advent of King Khan - Shahrukh. He came, he saw and he conquered. From the best of romantics in our generation to playing the dangerously obssessed lover, Shahrukh did it all. Screen Magic followed from DDLJ and went on till KKHH and Shahrukh was sitting strong. Often criticised and compared to Amir for lack of variety, Shahrukh did stick to a genre - Romance, but made it his Genre for times to come!! The most under-rated movie from Shahrukh was "Kabhi Haan Kabhi Naa". The sore good boy loser was never more adored..

I understand the post is getting Hero specific, but those days Hero-worship was in fashion !! Anyways, Nana Patekar comes into immediate reckoning, for brilliant performances in most under rated movies, Yugpurush, Yeshwant, Prahaar, Krantiveer or the most rivetting "Parinda". Jackie Shroff was good in its n bits...there were occasional memorable ones from him as well, including "Parinda", though his best i believe was "Gardish", a heartfelt story of a good man gone wrong. Bobby Deol was quite the rockstar with "Soldier" and "Gupt" (Gupt being the best thriller i have seen in hindi cinema, apart from "100 days"), but faded away soon.

Hey wait i havent mentioned any leading ladies. Madhuri rocked in the 90s, maybe the only actress to carry movies on her shoulders, loved her in Dil Toh Pagal Hai, Mrityudand etc.

Mani ratnam made his entry with such rare gems like Roja, Bombay, Dil Se. The Bhatt camp continued strong, they introduced such good music to our cinema.....Phir Teri Kahani Yaad Aaayi....Aashiqui are almost legends now. RGV created milestones with Rangeela and Satya.

So far so good....my memories live forever....i still have a feeling i have left out some brilliant ones...will add up when i remember.  

Dead Idiots

"Likh Likh ke padaa hatheli par alpha beta gamma ka chaala, 
 Concentrated H2SO4 ne pura...pura bachpan jalaa dala...."

Is there an idiot in all of us ? Well, in most of us? Have you ever had a stupid urge to do something out of the ordinary...something that is not quite you...something weird ...something wild... And ended up realising that your naughty innocence wasn't quite appreciated !!!

I realised it quite early that the term "REBEL" looks great in ancient stories of independence or funky psychedellic bands !! Nobody cared a shit about how to take the term seriously. In the formative years, you needed gigantic balls to question the system, and lets say even if u had them, the metric system punctured them sore !!

What metric system? Ohh, cmon we've all been through that..... social prejudices, comparisons with batchmates, comparison with 1st-2nd-9th cousins, comparison with eminent figures in the family, pencil thin-narrow outlook (a blessing for all small town hoods), the rat race had it all !! And we SURVIVED !! We are unscathed...have managed to make something out of the lemons life threw at us. But that idiot, that innocent idiot within each of us took a large share of the beating.

Let me tell you my version of 3 idiots. The resemblance might be coincidental, and i wont care for the questions put in !!

They were 3 of them...the idiots...we'll call them Goat, Moose and Chomp. The friendship became thick...largely coz of the fact that they discovered each other early. They shared the same agonies of pressure and performance. They were average really...if you consider the rat race i'd just talked about, but each had a jest for life far more than the sky could accomodate.

Goat was the jolliest of them all, the adventure freak. He had the wackiest sense of humour, he could liven up the atmosphere in seconds and there wasnt a soul on whom goat's pranks wouldnt have worked. Goat was an athelete of great talent. He represented school in 4 variety of sports. His report card strived really hard to better itself almost every time, most intended to please his academician dad, feared and respected by all.

Moose was the moody poet. He was interested in literature at an early age, and his taste in forms of art was commendable for a boy of his age. He loved the duo not because he saw any likeliness in them but because they were so different from him. Their company changed Moose from an outcast to someone more acceptable. The teachers always looked up to Moose, and it was a staff room discussion that this boy is meant to excel in life.

And then there was Chomp. Completely non-existent if you ask the teachers, but there was hardly a soul in class that didn't like Chomp. Chomp strummed the six strings like he was born to do it. Otherwise, he was the definition of average, studies,sports, luck all alike. If there was any flash in the pan, it was Chomp who would be more surprised than the rest.

The board exam results was when it all began. The hard work, the comparisons, the expectations, the turmoil. The boys had seen off the pressure with enough valour, but now the result threatened to stare them in the eye...........

10 years passed off...... Dont ask how......they wont remember !!!!

He opened his latch and stepped into his flat. The laptop was carefully removed and kept on the table, so were the access card and VOIP number generator. He looked at his watch, a present he still wore everyday though the emotions with it had withered off long back, along with the woman who couldn't dream anymore with him. It was 11.40pm. Just 7 hours more before the Project Manager sits on his head again for scrutinising on the deadline extension. His eyes fell on the copy of "Ulysses" in the bookshelf. He'd bought it about 3 weeks back from Crosswords, but hadn't managed to go beyond page-2. There was a photo frame resting next to the pile of new-unread books. 3 unruly boys with the most virgin expressions of what fun meant to them, atop a hillock !! Moose smiled. The pain of the software coolie was giving way to fatigue and drowsiness as he lay on the bed.

"Moose had scored perfect in school, maybe a little too perfect for his dreams. He was coerced into the best boarding college for Science students in the state. Moose broke to the pressure but somehow managed a near perfect escape from the hostel (eventually the cops getting him home after a harrowing 12 days search) and 1 failed attempt at suicide during exams, which forced him to drop a year. He managed to complete a state university education in Computers and after repeated walk-ins made it to a big MNC. Its been 3 years for him now amidst the complex codes, the madness for on-site assignments and the stale coffee vending machines staring at him late in the night"


        All is Well                            All is Well                      All is Well                       All is Well         

The Blackberry curve was an efficient machine. It reminded him of all the important meetings he needed to speed thru the day and the protocol mails he had to reply to. What it had failed to remember was Jan 16th was his Mom's b'day. Now on a late night flight to Singapore, it struck him. The Rolex signaled 11.40pm. The air-hostess had already asked him curtly twice to switch off the cellphone. It was no use anyways. His parents were early sleepers.What he needed to concentrate more was the client presentation he had to give the next morning. What did the soul say? Well he had killed that thing a long time ago. Chomps sighed, a sigh which had a feeling, more of vindication than guilt.

"She was my best friend Goatee, i mean apart from the two of you (boys never state their best friends without embarrassment, though today was different). I have never imagined my world without her. And i ended up playing matchmaker for her with that swine Roshan. You know where he proposed her? At my place !! What was i doing, apart from getting snacks for both of them? Well i was   ensuring she got the best and was happy? Roshan is smart,rich and a man of the future. What have i got really, besides gifting her cute key-chains and strumming the guitar at her request?" Chomps' tears had vanished into Goat's black tee as he hugged him tight. 
Chomps modest background surprisingly made it easy for him to choose a target. He wanted money and shed all inhibitions for it. He went through a management program and took to sales immediately. The six strings gave way to six figure salaries. He changed jobs in a hurry for growth, and his days were passed with constant anxiety of meeting his numbers. The positions changed, the insecurity remained. At least this involvement didn't allow him to look back a single day and repent on the cold hearted beast/professional he had turned into.


    All is Well                            All is Well                      All is Well                       All is Well         

The eyes appeared hollow as he checked himself in the mirror. Surely medical interns were allowed to have deep hollow eyes when the AIMS test was approaching. The doctor he was assisting to today hadn't been kind and had referrred almost 29 patients to him for common sickness. The thick entrance preparations book lay on the table. Deep inside Goat knew it that he will not be able to clear the test. Only a handful did and he certainly wasn't one of them. His friends had started getting settled, married, established, and here he was, nothing but a QUACK still striving hard for the practitioners degree. The table clock showed the time as 11.40pm. He opened the book and went back to that page in his life.

"Service to mankind is service to God. It's a noble profession we have chosen for you to pursue and you would do better to prove our faith in you." Dad's voice echoed. Nobody had cared about what he wanted, for the greater good of mankind. Goat had been missing the mark more than he could remember. Life never decided to show a bit of mercy, and he understood this is how its going to be ever since the donation laden medical school seniors ragged him into near death situations. The jolly, jovial guy had turned into a stone. He hardly spoke to any of his friends and off late had started avoiding calls from home leave aside cancelling home trips since the last 2 years, with the fear of facing his father. Not this life, he'd tell himself. Meanwhile the fake drug prescriptions helped ease the pain....


    All is Well                            All is Well                      All is Well                       All is Well         


The song that inspired it all....







Give me some sunshine, give me some rain,
Give me another chance, i wanna grow up once again !!!!

Assassin's Creed

The night was jeering upon me. The droplets falling from above didn’t soothe the soul. Rain generally had a calming effect on me. Not this one. Every raindrop felt as hard as a stone targeted directly on me. I was heavy. I carried the burden of loosing someone. The moments of shock and grief had passed. What remained was the after effect, the realization of the fact that this has actually happened. And that wasn’t smooth.

The street lights were dim, or at least the pouring rain made them feeble entities. Darkness had always been more alluring to me in life. I liked the dark. Ever since childhood, I embraced darkness much unlike other kids. I liked the challenge of finding my way in the dark, I liked the uncertainty darkness threw at us unlike light, where everything was finite and tangible.

Yet I wanted to move close to reason today. I wanted to be rescued. I wanted…………

My name is Balthazar. You shall not get specific details about my existence. My survival depends upon it. I have faint memories of my child hood, my upbringing. I faintly remember my mother’s angelic face. I remember my vision from the cellar, of the men who sprayed bullets at her. I remember the agony and guilt in my father’s eyes. I still remember the one statement he made, “We shall live”. I remember the train journey along with Dad that looked like it would never end. I remember at least 12 different names against my photograph in Passports of various countries. I remember being taught “what was necessary to learn” by Dad, since I missed most of my schooling. I remember surviving alone as a teenager in alien environments, sometimes clueless about when I would meet my dad again. I remember watching children of my age playing from a distance. By the time I was 15, I realized I could understand and speak 9 languages. But I seldom spoke. I listened.

On a cold winter night, I saw father breaking through the door. He had been hurt. It was a bullet wound, I wasn’t surprised. I had figured out what he did for us to survive. Father recovered soon, and I expressed my wish to accompany him for his “trips” going further. I saw him controlling his emotions. He agreed. I shall remember the one thing he said then. “Be fast in your thoughts and actions, always. Your conscience will never be able to catch up with you.” I remember, hearing Father cry and scream that night. The loud monologues were a mixture of guilt, anger, intoxication and helplessness. The bloodline had caught up with the inevitable !!

I don’t think I was taught to handle weapons. I did it on my own, several times learning to do so after seeing father in action. What was more important was stealth. My childhood concept of the darkness applied here. I was the darkness nobody was supposed to see through. After my third outing, I was finally given the chance to complete a mission. The modified Remington sniper was cold and calm, almost inspiring me. The aim was ruthless, not bothered by stimuli.

The bullet wrote the history. I was born. I was the “Assassin”

I have often read about people fond of travelling, writing memoirs about their visits and anxiously looking forward to exploring new destinations. During my professional pursuits, I must have scourged the world, yet never quite enjoyed any locales. My work was to disappear, and not sightsee, much like the rabbit from the magician’s hat. Do you think it enjoys the experience ? My records stated myself having worked for nearly all the intelligence units, a few small governments and some ruthless corporate deals. Reputations never overwhelmed me, I had seen it all.

Fate has a tendency of going wrong when you are not looking. On that particular night. Now it all comes back to me. It was a set-up, a defection. Bad guy kills the bad guy and becomes the good guy. In this case we were the hunted at whose cost the CIA were looking to clear their name. They set us up on a goose chase, trailing behind to go for the actual kill. Escaping was the only option and we were good at it. At least I thought so. A bullet made it’s way to my father’s left thigh. He spoke amidst the pain. “Billy, I’d rather die in your hands than be left for the torture. Make it quick and make it painless.” I had never unheeded father’s advice, but this was near impossible. I looked around, they were closing in. No escape. “Be fast in your thoughts and actions, always. Your conscience will never be able to catch up with you.” The voice echoed. My father, my teacher, the only connection between me and my existence.
I embraced him. “Good bye father !!” My last words were deafened by the sound of the bullet.

Our Dreams !!!

Dreams !!! What are they made of?? How do they occur???

I thought of writing this ever since i had a nightmare, a week back. And while i struggle to put forward my words together i realise there is no subject as infinite or abstract as this.

First, for reality's sake lets delve into the ideas of the masters, Freud, Sketel etc etc !!! Freud's "Interpretation of dreams" presented several theories which challenged the evolution of thoughts in the human mind, over-mining a more cause and effect relationship between our actions and thoughts and the impact they carry upon our dreams. Symbolism (dan brown, you cant touch this) was a high point, though blatant references are made on representations of several sexual acts even sodomy, incest etc... Ewwww !!!! But true !! And then sketel went along later disassociating with his teacher and made several connotations for sexual references, such as cleverly devised words for pervertness or hysteria !!!

Too much of sex they got into isnt it ??? Why is that?? The only reason i can think of, is that all of these are neo classical theories or devised a little later in the early 1900s !!! Understanding that dreams are a representation of our ultimate fantasies, desires and fears, most of the time, the only activity that comes to my mind which joins these three line of thoughts is SEX (war also came into my mind, but the respondents to our oldies' surveys were the gentry mostly, not assassins and no mad-cap Hitlers for sure) !!! Hence the realisation, hence the interpretation and hence the hoopla !!!

Lets look at perspectives from a new viewpoint, a fresher scenario. Lets look at the current generation and understand the implication of our dreams !! We definitely have more to desire for, more things to fantasise about and much more to fear !!!

The modern day hedonist has a lot of fantasies and things he would desire for - Sex (of course the primal instincts will rule till the age we turn into robots and our mechancial di**s would ask for a version upgrade for engaging in intercourse), Fast Cars, Riches, Food ( its true), material possessions, et cetera!!!

The modern man also has a lot of fears, fear of death, fear of wars, fear of falling behind in the rat race, fear of non-performance (contexts are upto imagination), fear of bosses (various), fear pf loosing, fear from the ghosts of the past and the ghouls lurking in the future, fear of bomination from the society because of non-confirmist thoughts et al !!!

Let me ask you. Have you ever had a dream, which made you feel sorry about the fact that you dreamt it? Did you see yourself committing a dark act, a sin, something you cant imagine your self doing under the weirdest of scenarios? Thatssssssssss the range of the human mind !!!

I was often told, to go to bed with a happy thought, and that would make way for happy dreams !!! That didnt happen. I still start the end of my night, imagining myself in an utopic situation and analysing my path to get there !!! But later, as sleep covers me in it's misty blanket, the sub conscious self takes control and i realise i am not the master. I must give in....give in to my dreams. For good, bad, sinister or ugly, they are truly creations of my own !!!

P.S - There are these NO DREAM nights too, maybe you are too tired to dream during your peaceful siesta, or have too much to bother about as you wake up, to remember what you dreamt of last night !!