The Last Conversation

I had come back from the meeting early.
The chest pain was bothering me a little. The hands felt a little numb. I couldn't understand why would my physical self ail me so much, when everything seemed all right in the external hemisphere. The merger had been successful. My clients were happy, the boss even happier. I ordered room service for a small dinner and lay down on the hotel bed. I'd thought of calling Kruti, but those were different timezones we were in, and didn't want to ruin her sleep. I thought of calling Vinny, my son. But then he must have been out partying and i wanted to save him the embarrassment of receiving a call from his Dad at 2am, while he must be high and happy with his friends.
2 more days, and i would be back home, i said to myself. Must go for a check-up this time. Must quit smoking. Hell, must go for a holiday if possible...

I don't remember dozing off really (as if anybody does!!). But what woke me up was a shrill noise. A noise i had never heard before, a noise that made my ears go numb and i couldn't pick up any external sounds after that. My chest pained again, this time with a stubbornness. I clutched my heart with both hands...and i saw a figure in front of me. Certainly not the room service, i thought.

The vision cleared and i found a person in black and yellow robes sitting besides me on my bed. He looked aged, he looked wise and seemed to exude an eerie charm from his hollow eyes.
I felt cold. Not the sort of cold, that you feel on a winter night, a deep setting chill, that seemed to arise in me from within.

Excuse me, Who are you?
Me ? why dont you take a wild guess ?
I dont know, you certainly dont look like room service !!
The man lent a hollow laugh...Room service !! ?Well, i certainly have been confused for worser professions, but no..i'm afraid, your guess isn't correct !!
Did you sneak into my room ?
I dont sneak into rooms, Avinash, i sneak into life. Now before you keep straining your already weaker self, i will tell you who i am. I am your end.
Is this some kind of a joke? Do i know you at all? Please lets get rid of this nuisance, i really am in a bad condition to entertain reality TV goofers spoiling my sleep.
OK, then let me make it more "REAL" and evident for you. With these words, the man did something i could neither explain, comprehend or disbelieve. He changed his form into 5 of the most eerie visions i have ever experienced. The Satan, The Devil, Death, God...whatever it was....it was here !! And it was staring me in my face !!

What do you want from me? I was clutching the blanket now.
He had returned to his former self by now. "I didn't have a choice Avinash, but I had to make you believe me. A lot of people i meet pass away after this exercise is done, making my work much easier. But you are a brave man i must say.
What do you want ? I repeated
Well, what can i want ? I obviously havent come here to explain the new promotional campaign we have organised for a new health plan i would want you to invest into !! He smirked.
I have come for you, my friend. Your life. Lets depart...
What? Me? Now ? Why?
Well, so many questions... i wont want to answer all of them...but all i can say is It's time !!
How can you say that ? I just have a mild chest pain, I am 48 and i have a lot to do..what about my family?
The man/Death had a serious expression when he said this to me - "I, as you can see, do not wear a watch, my friend. I could be as delayed and as alarmingly early as you could possibly imagine. Think of your wife's great grand dad or your cousin's newly born. Tell me, would i have an answer if they asked me the same question ?
Why now.......? tears wet my cheek. There was so much still remaining to be done. I had to complete my book, i had to reach the CEO's post, a task i had set for myself in the next 3 years, i had to go for that Greek holiday i had so eagerly awaited, i had to see my son graduate from IIM-A, i had to see him get married, have children and Kruti, how can i drift away from her. She'd been my soul mate for the last 20 years. My mom, how would she feel..what about my friends...??? Too many questions....

It seemed as if he was looking right through me.

I know it's hard. Believe me, contrary to my work, i have the deepest sense of sympathy you would ever experience.

"I was there, when you had an inkling of a thought of jumping off the cliff, when Kavita dumped you in the school picnic. I was there, when you were staring emptily at the ceiling fan, having been unable to make it to the IITs. I was even there when you were speeding off at a 110kmph on your motorbike on the highway and managed to escape the truck by half an inch. I was there when you had lost your first job and thought your career was over and were walking drunk on the empty railway tracks near your rented flat."

I was there Avi, I was there...all the time....I never asked you this question, "Why don't i get you now??"
Because the strangest thing this world shall ever experience is - Time. You might try to capture it in a clock, in calendars, in years...but you shall be clueless as to how finite or infinite it can possibly be.


Therefore my friend, i tell you now, "It's time"

"It's time" - I had heard this so many times, from mom, trying to wake me up early, during the ending bells of examinations, from girlfriends wanting to move on, from bosses asking for end of year reports..... and all of that became so vague in comparison to what this person told me. I was dying. It was going to be over. I wanted it to end with happy thoughts...i started visualizing my life from as early as i could remember. Dad's cricket sessions, the university medal, the new motorbike on the day of the results, the first kiss with Sarah, my first paycheck, Kruti's face when i first met her, our awkward honeymoon in Shimla, Vinny, his tiny self in my hands in the maternity room, the hug he gave me on our holiday on top of the Eiffel tower, while shouting "My Daddy's the besttttttt".........The lights started to fade. They will be fine...God, bless them with a happy life.....

He placed his hand on mine. We left.



Image courtesy: Camille on Death Bed, by Monet

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.

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.