Thoughts,Insanities And Life

Politics, Sedition and the Freedom to Protest

2016-02-17T01:09:00.001+05:30

These days, it is difficult to differentiate between news and noise. It becomes even more complex given the rapid spread of news through social media and the internet, especially when it lacks verified sources.

The recent events at the JNU campus have arrested the attention of the nation. A cultural event was organized at JNU to protest against the ‘judicial killing’ of a pair of convicted terrorists, Afzal Guru and Maqbool Bhat. And this is not the first time such an event was organized – it has reportedly been organized for 3 years now, on the death anniversary of Afzal Guru. Some people, in the course of this ‘cultural event’, shouted anti-India slogans like ‘Bharat ki barbaadi tak, jang rahegi, jang rahegi’ and ‘India go back’. Within days, the JNU Students’ Union (JNUSU) President was arrested for shouting anti-national slogans under the charges of sedition under Section 124-A, although the police remain silent on the issue of whether he actually raised any such slogans. The matter has become heavily politicized after this turn of events.

The organizers of the ‘cultural event’ have claimed that they were merely using their constitutional right of freedom of expression and their right to disagree and have a different opinion, while the Government has claimed the event as anti-national, a glorification of a convicted terrorist, and a secessionist ideology beguiling people under the innocent garb of Leftism and freedom of expression. The Home Minister even went on to claim that the event had the backing of Jamaat-ud-Dawah (JuD) chief Hafiz Saeed. JuD is the philanthropy arm of the terrorist outfit, Lashkar-e-Taiba (LeT).

This raises several sensitive and uncomfortable questions. How far can freedom of expression be stretched and what exactly are the ‘reasonable restrictions’ imposed on it? Was the event really anti-national or is that too harsh a label? Was the event seditious? And if the event was not so, were the slogans seditious?

First and foremost, let us be clear and state unhesitatingly that not every statement against the Indian State is anti-national. The State can be, and is, criticized by its citizens, and that is one of the pillars of our democratic foundation. How many times have we claimed in the comfort of our homes ‘Yaar, iss desh ka kuch nahi ho sakta.’? But, let us also be equally clear, if not more so, that anybody talking about the ‘barbaadi’ of India is anti-national and this label is not only justified but even necessary to brand such elements in our society.

Now, who was shouting these slogans? The organizers claim that some Kashmiris from outside the JNU campus raised these slogans. Let us not view this as an impossible claim. In the videos, it seems near impossible to identify the people raising these slogans. The JNUSU President who has been arrested was seen in the video saying pro-India and pro-constitution things in his speech. However, it is undeniable that there were some people in the crowd, even if there were none among the organizers, who harboured an anti-national feeling and a separatist ideology. Branding JNU, however, as anti-national is certainly not warranted.

An organiser, in an interview, claimed that the Supreme Court ruled that they do not have enough evidence to convict Guru but to satisfy the collective conscience of the country they hanged the man. This is a part of the final ruling of the Supreme Court:

“The incident, which resulted in heavy casualties, had shaken the entire nation and the collective conscience of the society will only be satisfied if the capital punishment is awarded to the offender. The challenge to the unity, integrity and sovereignty of India by these acts of terrorists and conspirators, can only be compensated by giving the maximum punishment to the person who is proved to be the conspirator in this treacherous act. The appellant, who is a surrendered militant and who was bent upon repeating the acts of treason against the nation, is a menace to the society and his life should become extinct. Accordingly, we uphold the death sentence.”

Legal experts have however argued that the evidence against him was circumstantial but that is a matter pertaining to a legal debate. But it must be noted here that Afzal Guru had, if nothing, exhausted every legal option. After the special POTA (Prevention of Terrorism Act) sessions court awarded him capital punishment, he filed an appeal in the Delhi High Court. His appeal was rejected and the capital punishment was upheld following which he moved the Supreme Court. After the Supreme Court’s judgement, he filed a review petition, which subsequently upheld the death sentence. Following that, Guru filed a curative petition, which was again heard and which, again, upheld the sentence. After that, he filed a mercy petition with the President of India which was rejected after 8 years, in 2013.

Coming to the question of freedom of expression and sedition, we must remember that the true test of a democracy is to withstand opinions that differ from ours, and may sometimes even be in grave contrast to them. A person may disagree with death penalty. A person may disagree with the Supreme Court’s verdict of the conviction of Afzal Guru as a terrorist, and they’re free to do so and to express their opinion on the matter. A person may even claim that a certain convicted terrorist was not only a hero but is also a martyr. In fact, a person may even leave all that behind and go ahead and claim that they want to witness the destruction of India. And none of those will invoke Section 124-A of the IPC. Talking against a political party in power, the government, the judiciary or even raising anti- India slogans is not necessarily sedition. The Supreme Court, in the Kedar Nath Singh vs. State of Bihar case in 1962, had declared:

“…words and speech can be criminalised and punished only in situations where it is being used to incite mobs or crowds to violent action. Mere words and phrases by themselves, no matter how distasteful, do not amount to a criminal offence unless this condition is met.”

As an example, the Supreme Court acquitted persons who had shouted “Khalistan zindabaad, Raj Karega Khalsa” and, “Hinduan Nun Punjab Chon Kadh Ke Chhadange, Hun Mauka Aya Hai Raj Kayam Karan Da” (Hindus will leave Punjab; this is our chance, we will rule) just hours after the assassination of Indira Gandhi.

This renders any charge of sedition in the given circumstances meaningless. However, Section 124-A, a remnant of the colonial era, has been used by all Governments as a tool to curtail freedom of speech to a certain extent and silence critics. Interestingly, England itself abolished the law in 2009.

It must also be remembered, though, that the government is well within its rights to initiate a probe in the matter if it believes, with reasonable evidence, that there is a threat to the security, as claimed by the Home Minister when he linked the event to a known terrorist organisation. In such a situation, the government should cite proper reasons and furnish evidence to support its claims and go on to make arrests for the appropriate reasons. After all, it is the responsibility of the government to protect its citizens. If the government indeed has intelligence inputs, it must take action, and we must not blow the actions of the government out of proportion. But it must do so under appropriate charges and not under the garb of sedition.

Since we’re talking of Jawaharlal Nehru University, it is apt that the following two statements made by Nehru offer a comprehensive yet concise view of the situation from two opposing but equally important perspectives:

“Where freedom is menaced or justice threatened or where aggression takes place, we cannot be and shall not be neutral.”

“There is nothing more horrifying than stupidity in action.”

Differences in opinions are understandable and even welcome in our society. We do tend to become over-zealous in protecting our own version of the truth at times, and that is natural, but a certain amount of that zeal is healthy. We must remain open to arguments, however contradictory they may seem as long as they are within the bounds of the principles our country was founded on. Debating upon the conviction of a terrorist by the highest court of law of the land is certainly permissible within the boundaries of democracy. Organising an event to protest against the ‘judicial killing’ of convicted terrorists and an expression of solidarity with the Kashmiri people’s right to self-determination is also within the confines of the democracy. However, declaring that a terrorist convicted by the Supreme Court of the nation is a martyr, and going on to proclaim the destruction of the nation they live in, is not something that can be acceptable to any Indian who even remotely loves his country, though it is certainly not seditious in this context. And even then, the people uphold constitutional sovereignty and grant such people their freedom of expression, which is a really tolerant thing for the citizens of this country to do. There will be dissent and there will be anger and certain fringe sections may even resort to violence. The media might blow such things out of proportion, which is not to say that it has. The political parties and the Government may squabble among themselves and politicize the event in different colours and show varied intensities of tolerance for the same. Let us remember though, that neither the media nor the Government and political parties reflect India. Who does, you ask? We, the people.

In The End They Went Their Own Ways

2014-06-16T18:35:00.000+05:30

He glanced so casually at her;

Like one would glance at a spoon.

She looked away unconsciously,

As she was viewing the moon.

She turned to look at the window,

And studied his face in between,

As one would study a door.

But he didn’t know; he wasn’t keen.

They never noticed each other,

Sipping their caffeinated brown.

They played their little games all along,

And then the café closed down.

The Meaning of it All

2014-03-17T15:24:00.000+05:30

Since I am undeniably doomed to drop down one day and never get up again, I should do something that will keep me alive in this world after I’m gone; something to remember me by. After all, what would be the meaning of a life that just passed by unnoticed? That does seem a pretty compelling argument to do something with my life.

We are an obsessed species. We are obsessed with the meaning of our lives, the purpose of our lives, the finality of our lives, with immortality and above all, of course, we are obsessed with ourselves. Now, just so that we're on the same page, I'm not trying to degrade our primordial instinct of curiosity. Curiosity drives our quests for answers about ourselves and the unknown. Obsession, on the other hand, can lead to the development of cosmological philosophies like the Anthropic principle (a theory which will have you believe that the universe is the way it is because we are here to observe it). That sounds pretty self-centred, doesn't it?

For some unknown reason, we need to define our own purpose to fill some sort of void within us: a vacuum, a black hole of sorts, which sucks on our entire consciousness until we create a seemingly cognitive solution to partially fill it, so that we can concentrate on our daily lives. We develop a concept of God, follow different religions and inculcate beliefs which we defend, using logic and faith and basically everything else we can lay our hands on, with a spirit which would put a mother protecting her child to shame. Then we live our entire lives with our feet planted firmly, and assertively, in those beliefs. And in spite of everything, we hope that one day; some random permutation of a given set of words that we have known all along our dull lives, will bring forth a completely new idea which would bestow upon us a sense of perfect clarity.

The finality of life is also somewhat unacceptable to us. We are so overflowing with a sense of superiority that we cannot even assume that, like everything else, we can come to a definite and more importantly, an irreversible end. And the moment we start accepting the finality of it, our never-ending pursuit of immortality begins. Our struggle to be remembered till the end of time is flamed by our own manic hunt to give meaning to our actions.

Just in case you’re struggling with the meaning of this post, let me remind you that there is no need of a meaning. In fact, there is no meaning. Just like there is no spoon.

The Defence Mechanism

2014-03-11T21:33:00.000+05:30

I am an observer.

How does the brain figure out what to remember and what to slip to the darker portions of your memory? One obvious way is repetition. If you do something a number of times, the smart little walnut in your head puts it in the forefront of your memory chest. Another way is by connecting what you want to remember to something you know you wouldn't forget easily. But these are all tricks that you apply consciously.

Among the unconscious mechanisms, one is particularly striking. We remember the tragedies of our lives much more vividly than the good old times. It is much easier to visit the lanes where you were hurt and crying than going back to the beach where you were celebrating, in a mnemonic sense, that is. The way I figure it, and considering I figure it correctly, this is an evolutionary trait i.e. the brain invented this method to aid our survival. For example, if an unknowing child casually puts his hand in the fire, it is highly unlikely that he’ll do it again (a masochistic child would be an exception, of course). That’s because the brain memorises this so intensely that the poor kid would almost be able to imagine the burning sensation for the rest of his life.

Now, the crux of all this scientific introspection that ate through quite a bit of this post is somewhat philosophical. People forget. No matter who you are to them, no matter what you do for them, they will forget. And it’s not exactly their fault. Despite what everyone says about people either clinging to the nostalgic past or wandering in the dark fields of the dreamy future, the strident truth is that people live very much in the present, at least in times of despair. In order to apply this theory to commonly observed instances, let us consider an example. When friends, family or lovers fight with each other, the brain instantly brings up so many tiny disagreements that they once marked as ‘Forget it. It doesn't matter.’ and bottled up deep down inside. In contrast, it requires much more introspection and a lot of extraction to bring out the good times. Even if the fight was meaningless, our brain uses this evolutionary tactic to prevent us from going back there, even if, at some level of our consciousness, we want to. It is a defence mechanism of sorts. And like all defence mechanisms, it has its own complications. It’s absolutely wonderful in a case when we are dealing with fire (I mean, it would be pretty tiring, if not eventually fatal, if you kept on forgetting what fire does to you, right?), but it could lead to a disaster, in a manner of speaking, in the above scenario.

So, the question arises: what are we supposed to do about it?

Well, I’m merely an observer. Hell if I know.

2013-01-16T14:53:00.000+05:30

Random Cogitations

# Since childhood, we are taught to 'blend in'. To adjust according to the society. By the time we grow up, we master the art of blending in so well, that we often forget how it feels to stand out.

# Instead of wondering aloud why we spend millions of rupees to engage in the process of rote learning, we follow the drill all week. And finally, on the weekends, we party hard, or go out, do something else we like; just to prevent ourselves from asking such questions.

# Ever had this thought: 'I'd love to engage in this particular activity. Only if this person wasn't here, or that person didn't exist, or my family never gets to know of this, etc.' We are all restrained.
You need to lose everything to be completely free. Which technically means that freedom is nothing but an illusion. But it's not just any veil. It's the kind of veil that we want to wear.

# The world would be a simpler place if the heart was just an organ which pumped a red liquid to the rest of the body.

2012-08-17T00:21:00.002+05:30

My Nana and Nanu (yeah, that’s what I call my Nani) had their 50^th marriage anniversary a few days back.

As expected (by me), I was advised by several people, on several occasions, to pen down a poem for the occasion. However, as has recently become my habit, I failed to take the advice.

But it wasn’t for the want of trying. I tried, on more than one occasion, to bring out that poet in me, but failed miserably each time. It so happens, I suppose, that I am incapable of writing a poem about someone I love too much. Each time I used to pick the pen up, the words materializing in the back of my mind were drowned by a surging wave of emotion.

Every single time, my mind drifted off to more charming realms - the days when I lay spread under the winter sun and nanu would massage my body with the famous ‘sarso ka tel’. The nights when nana patiently recounted to me tales from Ramayana and Mahabharata crafting my love for literature. Those huge ‘kaurs’ of rice nanu would stuff my mouth with and the times she’d take my side when mom scolded me after I vomited all the food out, which happened quite often, believe me. And how nana got me into the wonderful habit of eating ghee, cheeni , roti and namak , ghee, chawal. I remembered how I’d go with him to the rooftop and feed the birds. He’d call the birds using the words---Chidiya aa. Those were precisely my first words—Chinya aa (well, in a distorted way)

And oh, I forgot to mention their greatest accomplishment—My mom apart, Nanu and Nana are two of the few people who have been able to successfully feed me a complete meal.

Okay. Now I can’t think of anything more to write, not because there’s nothing left to write, but because I’m getting those emotional surges again and my brain’s going numb with sentiment. If I didn’t have such a super-sensitive heart; I could probably fill several books about you guys.

On a more serious note, I really love you, Nana and Nanu.

Happy Anniversary.

Nameless (Chapters 4-5)

2012-05-05T16:02:00.000+05:30

Chapter 4

She sat cross-legged, waiting, flipping through the pages of the file she was carrying. On the other side of the table was a man smoking a cigarette. He appeared to be in his late forties – portly, half-bald, clean shaved, wearing a grey suit. He had an air of importance around him.

He looked at her expectantly.

‘Of the 84 known tribes, 7 have been annihilated,’ she said, meeting his gaze. When a frown started to form on his face, she added, ‘We are working to pinpoint the location of the others, Sir.’

He nodded vaguely and she continued, ‘In fact, we have the locations of two more tribes. We have already begun the preparations.’

‘However things have not been as smooth with the group that calls itself ‘The Free People’.’ She sighed and looked down at the file she had just opened. ‘The recent fires in our offices in Port 76 and 77 have been attributed to them, although we cannot claim so for certain. As you know, their numbers have increased recently. Our estimate is around 800, but it could be more than that. Our efforts to find their bases have been thwarted every single time, which leads us to believe that they have informers planted in our offices. Our sources have informed us that they have permanent bases in at least 17 ports. You would remember that we had captured one of their members last year but in spite of the severe methods of torture used, he did not reveal anything.’ She stopped, closed the file and looked up at him.

He had finished the cigarette and was gazing at the ceiling, his fingers drumming on the table. An uncomfortable minute passed. He lowered his gaze to meet hers and whispered a single word: Anomalies.

She shifted uneasily in her seat. ‘As you are obviously aware, Sir, all 11 of the Anomalies were exterminated.’

‘I am aware of that. Yes’, he said, his voice just louder than a whisper. But he still kept staring at her.

She felt unsure. ‘Is that all, Sir?’

A ghost of a smile flickered on his face. ‘No dear. That’s not all.’

She raised her eyebrows.

‘I’ve heard rumours of another Anomaly’, the man said softly.

She took a deep breath. The word had reached quickly to the top. ‘We do not have any evidence regarding the matter, Sir. The rumour may have been started by The Free People.

Maybe they mean to mislead us.’

The man rubbed his chin. ‘It may be so. However, I have always found rumours interesting.’ He looked at her, waiting.

She nodded. ‘It is rumoured that the subject in question is a female. A very manipulative female. We’ve have heard that she practices some kind of mind control.’

‘Quite fascinating,’ said the man. ‘But then, most women are manipulative. Don’t you agree?’

She looked straight at him. ‘I suppose so, Sir.’

He lit another cigarette. ‘That will be all 706.’

No. 706 got up and left the room. She did not like this man. He seemed frightening. As she closed the door, she looked at the silver board on it. On it were embossed an alphabet and a number, separated by a single dash.

Z-3

She gazed at it for a moment, then turned around and left.

Chapter 5

It was a moonless night. She knocked twice. After a while, the door opened and a man invited her in.

It was a small room. Now, let us get this clear. There are small rooms which have a genuinely warm and cozy feeling about them, and then there are small rooms where you feel that either your wind-pipe has started malfunctioning or that the room is an excellent oxygen repellent. This room was in the latter category. If a man ever fell in love with dust, this was the place he would love to have his honeymoon. It was dimly lit but the two shelves full of old and dusty books were quite visible, as was the moth eaten carpet surrounded by four wooden chairs, which looked as if they had been made with the sole purpose of providing a haven for termites. There was one small window in the room, left open to the dark night. The man sat on one of the chairs and she took the seat opposite to him.

‘You were supposed to pick me up from the airport,’ she said quietly.

‘I was,’ said the man simply. He was of medium stature, slim and sat with a little stoop. To any unobservant bystander he would appear to be in his early thirties. But if one were to look at his eyes, it would be an entirely different scenario. He had grey eyes. And those alert grey eyes looked centuries old. His gaze was sharp, even piercing, as if scanning a person. He peered at her.

‘I was,’ he repeated. ‘And you were supposed to keep your persuasiveness in check.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘C’mon, it was nothing. I just –’

‘Nothing?’ he said softly. ‘It was nothing? After a year of training, you tell me that using your powers in a flight full of passengers is nothing? Are you –’

‘It wasn’t full of passengers,’ she cut in. ‘There were just the two of us.’

This calmed him down a little. ‘You still shouldn’t have used it. Maybe he was coming here for some sort of important work.’

‘Important work. Yes. That might be it. Why didn’t I think of it? Important work like following me and uncovering our base. Now that seems pretty important for the government right now, doesn’t it?’

‘And how do you know that he was working for them?’ he countered.

‘I don’t. But I couldn’t take a risk. And I don’t believe in coincidences.’

He looked closely at her as if examining her and she stared back, as if challenging him. A tense minute passed. She lowered her gaze slowly but her expression was as resolute as ever. At last he said, ‘Forget it. He doesn’t matter. Even if he was following you, he wouldn’t be able to find this place. But you must keep in mind to keep a check on your powers. You have responsibilities. You are our most important asset right now. Our people see hope in you. I see hope in you.’

She folded her arms. ‘That’s all very flattering, but let’s come to the point. Why have you called me?’

He sighed. ‘You know why.’

‘Do I?’ she challenged.

A crow flew in from the open window and perched silently on the arm of his chair. He looked at it.

‘I’m afraid you do. Your existence cannot be hidden for long now. There are already rumours. I'm afraid that soon the Z’s will become aware of your existence, if they aren’t already. You are too important for us to lose.’

He was right. She did know this. She had known it for quite some time now. ‘So?’

He was still looking at the crow, a slight frown forming on his face. ‘So I think you should go to Narda.’

‘What? But –’

She stopped short as she saw him jumping in his chair. The crow flew off and went out from the window.

‘Someone’s coming this way,’ he said quickly. ‘You should leave.’ When she opened her mouth to say something, he added, ‘Now.’

The two of them got up and he moved quickly to the door. As he opened the door for her, he drew back. There was a man on his doorstep.

‘I hope I’m on time.’

No. 4,629,216,037 looked from the man with the grey eyes to the girl, his arms folded across his chest and his face somber.

To be continued...

Nameless (Chapters 1-3)

2012-04-30T19:16:00.001+05:30

Chapter 1

She woke up with a start.

Chapter 2

He woke up without a start.

He could feel the daylight pressing lightly on his still-shut eyelids. He momentarily wrestled with the idea of going back to sleep but got up eventually. The big day, like all other days, had come. He went to the mirror and stood in front of it. As had become his habit lately, his hand automatically went to the upper left side of his left eyebrow as he ran a finger through the length of the scar. It was rather long – it curved about an inch and a half below the eye giving it a somewhat crescentic appearance. However, the scar didn’t bother him. He had got used to it. What bothered him was that he couldn’t remember getting the scar. In fact, he could have sworn that he hadn’t even seen it before that...

Now, that was another problem. That morning, two years ago – the morning he saw the scar for the first time. It was a morning just like any other morning. Except that he could remember nothing before that morning. Although, not exactly nothing. There were some things he did remember. He didn’t know how, but they felt rather like vague facts. The fact that his mother had drowned on his third birthday. The fact that he was raised by a man of whom he could remember nothing. The fact that he had as much money as he needed at his disposal. And nothing more. His memory was disturbingly silent about most other aspects of his past, as if mourning in defeat. As if, that was all he was made up of. Just facts.

But No. 4,629,216,037 did not consider himself a man of facts. And that was precisely the reason he had a flight to catch.

Chapter 3

From the corner of his eyes, he could see that the girl sitting on his right was giving him a slight inquisitive look. He still couldn’t help smiling as the plane took off – it was exactly on time. It was a long flight and he was going to enjoy it.

After a while, he looked at the girl. She looked around his age, give or take a year. He placed her at twenty. He had noticed that she was pretty when she took her seat next to him, but looking at her now he could sense something odd about her. She had a somewhat cold and withdrawn appearance on her face mixed subtly with anger and hatred. She looked almost dangerously beautiful. So this is what happens when Mr. Sinister meets Ms. Gloomy, he thought to himself. He failed to suppress a chuckle.

She caught him staring, and turned to face him even as he turned to look out of the window. He stayed that way for a minute or two, and was about to look back to check whether she was still looking his way, when he heard her speak.

‘Funny view, huh?’

There was something about her voice that almost made him nod in approval. Then he caught her tone and turned to face her.

‘Umm…Sorry,’ he said, without meeting her eyes. He suddenly found himself thirsty. ‘I didn't mean to freak you out.’

She eyed him for a moment, as if weighing his words, and then turned her attention to the magazine that she was earlier reading, as if the recipe for mutton chops was the most important thing she had ever come across in her entire life.

So much for Mr. Sinister’s date with Ms. Gloomy. He chuckled again. Then he drifted off to sleep.

He woke up as the plane landed. It was not his destination but he was delighted to note that they were exactly on schedule. His delight was obvious in the smile on his face.

‘Do I really look that funny, or are you simply nuts?’

He had almost smiled again as he turned to look at her, but caught himself in the middle of the act. She looked mildly annoyed. Looking at her, he suddenly found himself angry. He was done apologising.

‘You look funny. In fact, you look so funny that you’re driving me nuts. So why don’t you turn your attention back to those mutton chops and leave me in peace?’ he snapped, satisfied yet uncomfortable. Something was not right. He was almost gasping for breath by the time he finished the sentence. It seemed that his body had revolted against his sudden outburst.

Her condition, he did not fail to notice, seemed worse. She seemed more shocked at his rebuke than angry. Too shocked in fact; as if the seemingly impossible had happened.

With a shade of surprise still visible on her face she said, ‘I’m sorry.’

He had wanted to argue more, but strangely he didn’t feel up to it now. He silently took comfort in the fact that greater men than him had fallen before a woman’s apology.

‘It’s okay. I'm sorry too.’

She smiled at him. It wasn’t really a warm smile but he could see that it was genuine. At least it looked that way.

‘You’re going to the 371^stport?’ he asked. He noticed that she had closed the cookbook.

She shook her head.

The profundity of the extent of mental disorder, which can be created by the slightest of movements of the human head, can be interesting to note at times. But not at times like this. Her words shot through him like an electric shock.

‘No?’ he said, trying to sound calm, ‘That means you’re going to–’

‘The 372^nd port.’, she confirmed. ‘You?’ she asked.

He took some time before answering, ‘Me too.’

If the revelation shocked her she did not show it. But she paused for a while, as if considering something of great importance. Then she said, ‘First time? Mine is.’

He nodded in approval although he was well aware that it was a rhetorical question. As a rule, nobody went to the 372^nd port. In just two years, he had picked up more rumours about the place that he would have liked to believe. Even the people at the top rarely visited it. That was the primary reason that he had planned to start there. The rumours were a reason too but they were not as important. If one were to arrange ports in order of the extent of rumours, there were at least two ports which would rank higher than 372. But they were not as oblivious to strange happenings as the latter.

And once he reached there, strange things were going to happen.

He had not expected anybody else to go there with him. For all he knew, the girl could be following him. He frowned. This was not good. It would interfere with his plan. He did not like the idea of it, but he would have to take care of the girl. Nothing must interfere with his plan.

When the fight took off from the port 371, the flight attendants started looking a little uneasy. The flight usually returned from here. But not today. Today, two passengers were

still seated.

The flight was still perfectly on schedule. That lifted his spirits.

He was still thinking about getting rid of the girl, when he thought he heard her voice.

‘Sorry?’ he said, as he turned towards her.

‘I was saying that you should sleep for a while. I’ll wake you up when we reach there.’

‘What?’ His eyebrows rose sharply and then fell as quickly, as an urge to sleep took over all his conscious senses. His eyes darted towards her. He could see a faint smile dancing on her lips and he suddenly felt scared. He tried to open his mouth to shout but the words required more energy than he felt he had.

‘Not that resistant, are you?’ she said darkly. He struggled to speak but she said, ‘Don’t try. If you exhaust yourself of too much energy, you might end up dead. I wouldn’t like that.’ She paused and looked sideways to check that none of the attendants were watching. ‘I have no idea who you are, mister, but the way your jaw dropped when I informed you of my destination, you’re definitely not following me, unless of course, you’ve a diploma in theatrics. Whoever you are, I really can't let you interfere with my business. And I have some important business to attend to.’

His eyes were on the verge of closing when the hand of slumber pressing on him seemed to lift. His eyes fluttered open but he still felt exhausted.

‘Just a quick question.’ he heard her saying. ‘Why were you smiling?’

Despite himself, he smiled. ‘I have…a thing with time.’ It looked as if he was going to elaborate but a new wave of lethargy washed over him with such force that he had no time to react. His body slumped, and he lay lifeless.

To be continued...

A Peek Into The Pragmatic

2012-04-18T21:21:00.000+05:30

Those dreams seen with open eyes,

Are made real by deeds of fire,

Not idle yawns and dreary sighs,

And not by those words of ire.

Those castles that are made of sand,

Are turned to stone by toil’s trance,

Not by the Fortune’s enchanted hand,

And not by mere Fate and Chance.

Some greatest minds that dwelt on earth,

Never achieved what they could get,

’Cause they masked their days with idle mirth,

’Cause they ne’er shed a sweat.

To Fame

2012-04-10T17:02:00.000+05:30

Does the rose speak of her scent,

To the bee that visits its tent?

Do the rivers of their waters say,

To every rustic that goes their way?

Must the mighty ocean roar,

To make its presence felt ashore?

Need the Nereid talk of her charms,

To the sailor that holds her arms?

Why then must mortals serve as bait,

And gamble for what has no weight?

News Update

2012-02-01T02:19:00.002+05:30

Indian School of Mines has eternally crippled the entire English language. What? Don’t look at me like that. You don’t know? Which world do you live in?

There are only 24 alphabets left in the English language! No prizes for guessing which two have been exhausted. Owing to the strong market demand of YB(s) in ISM, the Queen of England has surrendered the two alphabets over to ISM. This has led to some controversy, but that's hardly the point, is it?

If only they were distributing Kohinoor(s) so rapidly here!

(The pun in the line above was completely unintended.)

Oft I Converse With That Devilish Side

2012-01-08T19:54:00.001+05:30

Oft I converse with that devilish side,

That dwells beneath my seraphic hide;

Sharing the darkest secrets of my mind,

And yet we share naught in kind.

For he in his slumber, yet wide awake,

Cares nothing for paltry life’s sake;

He trusts not a man, not even me!

The love of this world, his eyes don’t see.

His voice rolls out with a dismal spin

And all he hears is the gloomy din.

His visions, oh, I tell thee –

A fallen world, in World War III!

But when this fiend grows too strong,

And snaps the line ’twixt right and wrong;

My conscience rises; as a phoenix must,

And banishes that beast to Tartarus.

Hacked To Death

2012-01-05T13:13:00.000+05:30

Yes, I know. It’s been long.

And Happy New Year.

Now that we are through with the formalities, let’s get to business. I had thought of making a comeback with a story, but something caught my eye.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I'm not a huge fan of criticizing my college in public, simply because I prefer not to wash my dirty linen in public. I’d rather do that in my house. But let us consider a hypothetical world where everyone can freely enter and leave everyone else’s house. That could be a problem, right? Would we be able to identify that fine line between private and public? Or more importantly, would there be a fine line? What the hell do we do about the dirty linen, now?

Yes, I'm talking about the sensation called the Internet. The virtual world. Except that today, it is no more virtual than the food you eat or the air you breathe or the girl you love. In such a world, as in any other, reputation is important. The websites that colleges have on the internet speak volumes about them. Tell me that looking at a website with a home page written in just static HTML doesn’t piss you off, and I’ll tell you that you lack the most basic of human tastes. Who doesn’t like to marvel at the perfection of true beauty?

But then, I seem to remember that I’ve addressed the subject of beauty in an old post. So, let’s leave it at that. Now, what’s more important is security. How do you think would it look if someone wrote ‘I Suck!’ on the face of the most beautiful girl in the world? Definitely not a pretty sight, eh? Likewise, it doesn’t look very chic if someone hacks the shit out of your website.

Now take a good look at www.concetto.co.in.

Get my point? The guy (assuming it is a guy) who hacked it calls himself SecurityBus. I saw his profile on zone-h.org (zone-h.org is a site that keeps a record of the defacements made on websites on the internet). He’s a regular there. He’s hacked around 4492 sites. I think, and in all probability I may be mistaken, that he’s a pro. I did a bit of research (I’ll spare you the details by not delving into the technical stuff) and found out he’s uploaded a PHP shell. Such PHP shells can be considered as web pages that can control your entire website. I'm not going to tell you where that shell has been uploaded because I don’t want the site to get more messed up than it already is. But I'm also not going to remove the shell. I want to see the ‘reaction time’ of the site administrators.

I don’t see websites of IITs or NITs getting hacked. But then, I also don’t claim to be omniscient. So maybe IITs do get hacked but does that mean that we need to get hacked too? But that’s trivial matter. This is not about the ego. Sites all over the world keep getting hacked. It’s nothing worth looking at our shoes in shame. What's more important is that uploading shells is a technique called RFI (Remote File Inclusion) and it’s ‘usually’ only possible if the site developers are really careless. Now that’s more along the lines of look-at-your-shoes-in-shame. After all, it might not be about the ego but it’s definitely about self-respect.

So I guess it comes down to this: Are we really so lame that we’d compromise on self-respect? Again, I'm not concluding anything. Maybe this Bus-Vehicle-Security-Chief guy is a pro. Or just maybe, we have a bunch of shitty programmers.

Either way, the crux of the matter is this: Is the Internet so real? It sure is. And hacking’s really a threat to a college’s reputation? Certainly looks that way, mate. But aren’t sites all over the world getting hacked? Damn right, they are. So, it can happen to us once or twice? Murphy's law, dude: If it can go wrong, it will. Well then, it’s affordable, right? Hell no! It sure as shit ain’t AFFORDABLE!

People trip over and fall all the time. Getting hacked is just as affordable as is tripping over and falling into a shit hole.

Ultimately, it’s your choice. Our choice.

2011-07-24T01:29:00.000+05:30

How hapless is he who cannot look

Back upon his days, for want of time.

Who cannot once admire the brook,

Who holds gazing at stars, a crime.

Whose heart has ne’er burned with desire,

To plunge into water, to taste some fire.

Who has ne’er bathed in moonlight,

Let alone admire the euphony of rain.

Who has ne’er slept under the starlit night,

And this man claims to be sane!

A little wine and a little song,

I think, won’t do him wrong!

2011-04-22T16:48:00.000+05:30

Why is it that every endavour I make,

Is of no avail?

Every bone I move,

Is futile, fruitless.

Every drop of sweat seems

An otiose undertaking.

The crusades of toil,

Drowned in the anguish of defeat.

I lie in doubt, tired,

Cogitating upon its reality,

Pretending to be oblivious,

Avoiding the pragmatic gaze of the truth.

Who is to blame?

Who is at fault?

Destiny and Fate have shoulders strong,

To carry this burden,

But when I meet that clear gaze,

That gaze of truth,

I do not see Destiny,

What I see, is me.

Of The Fledglings And The Larvae

2011-03-09T05:45:00.005+05:30

Recently, I’ve been contemplating on the difference between ‘living socially’ and ‘living naturally’. Man, undoubtedly, is a social being. But this also imposes some restrictions on him, especially restrictions on his freedom.

Some days ago I had a chat with a few of my friends about some ‘taboo’ topics, the most hotly debated one being ‘premarital sex’. Numerous points were raised, ranging from very bad (which I shall not be discussing here), to very good. What follows is my personal opinion.

Why should sex be an implicit function of marriage? What is wrong in having sex before marriage? After all, sex is the natural thing, not marriage. Marriage is just a custom created by the society. And, if the boy and girl want to have sex, why should it bother anyone else (provided they take necessary precautions)?

At this, a point was raised that appaled me. One of my friends said that boys are only after sex, and that after having sex with the girl, the boy would just dump her. He said that there is something called ‘commitment’ and then even went on to claim that the boy wouldn’t marry the girl once he’s had sex with her, as, according to him, that was all he wanted. If anyone else has his or her mind muddled with this deluding and repulsive presumption, then let me elucidate a bit. Firstly, even if the boy and girl were in love and were going to marry, what he said was quite a lame argument. And secondly, I’m not imposing the condition that the boy and girl are in love with each other or are going to marry each other. I’m talking on a much simpler level. What I’m talking about, is sex.

Sex is a very strong biological need. Earlier, people used to get married at a younger age. The times have changed now. People stay unmarried till late 20’s or even early 30’s. So, the concept of premarital sex needs some revision now. Some substantial revision.

Legally, it’s not wrong to have premarital sex in India. But I'm not talking about the legal issues. I’m talking about the moral ones. And the moral ones are set up by the society.

Out of every 10 people I talked to, 9 were in favour of premarital sex. Problem solved? No. Why not? Primarily because of two reasons. Firstly, I talked to all educated people. They contribute to a very small segment of the population. And secondly, out of these 9 seemingly very broad-minded people, 5 would be traumatised if they come to know that their sibling has had premarital sex. So, there is no need for the society to change. The need to change is for us.

One point raised against premarital sex was the preservation of our culture. According to our culture, premarital sex is not just a taboo, but a sacrilege. Well, personally, I respect our culture, but I also believe that nothing is perfect. Our culture, too, also has room for improvement. And this improvement should take the name of sexual freedom. However, rationally speaking, it is futile to talk about the morality factor. Because whatever we say about it, the fact is that premarital sex is here, and is here to stay.

As I said earlier, sex is a very strong and uncompromisable need. So, in my opinion, premarital sex can lead to reduction in the number of molestation and rape cases. I also believe, and I’m sure you would agree, that having sex with a known person is much healthier than having sex with a CSW (Commercial Sex Worker). This would also contribute to a diminution in diseases like AIDS. Considering all this, I don’t see any harm in premarital sex. In fact, I see only benefits, from unbounded freedom to a healthier India.

As for anyone who is even a little perplexed by my choice of this taboo topic, I can assure you that I’ve no plans of getting laid in the near future.

By the way, I’ll discuss the uncertainty of future some other day…

Go On...

2011-02-08T04:51:00.001+05:30

I sit in solitude,

In pain, in remorse, in thought,

In the silence of my crying dreams,

Shattered.

I am in dark shadows,

In a world lit by smoke-blackened lamps,

Differentiating between the real and the oneiric,

Cogitating upon what I could have obviated.

The tears that I shed now

Are pointless.

All arguments, however rational

Seem unavailing, even to the most logical minds,

‘Cause every mind has a heart

And every heart feels anguish, feels loss,

Can break.

But still, I go on,

Go on for those who love me,

Who believe when I don’t,

For those who dream

Of my dreams blossoming into reality.

I go on,

For the laughs that I haven’t laughed yet,

The fragrance that I haven’t smelt yet,

The joy that I haven’t felt yet,

The good that I haven’t done yet.

I sigh,

And get up,

In the same murky dungeons,

I now see a ray of light,

One single ray, only one,

But that is enough,

Enough to drive me,

Enough for me embark again,

On the journey of life.

Enough,

To go on.

2011-01-19T22:46:00.000+05:30

The sun bathes in your light,

The rose shies away.

The moon envies you in the night,

What more can I say?

The wind wants to blow past your face,

The brook wants to wash your frame,

There is no end to your grace,

What more do you wish to claim?

You are the paradigm of beauty

And when your charms attack,

Why do I forget all duty,

And wish you never go back?

Hey Beautiful!

2011-01-04T18:15:00.004+05:30

I’ve never really understood the logic behind making ‘new year’ resolutions. I mean, one can just resolve to do something on any one of those 101,101,101 days. It really escapes me. Anyway, just because I don’t get it doesn’t mean that every other person in this world is an idiot. It could be the other way round though (I said could, mind you).

Anyone waiting for a philosophical discourse on the reason behind (and the futility of) new year resolutions is about to be disappointed. Because today I’m going to be a bit technical.

But before I forget, Happy New Year everyone!

And now, back to business.

I’ve been trying to find out the definition of beauty for some time. Not the philosophical definition, the technical one. Most of you who have read the ‘Da Vinci Code’ by Dan Brown would know of φ (phi). It is an irrational number [(√5+1)/2], its approximate value being 1.618 (For those of you who are interested in a more accurate value, it’s 1.61803398874989484820458683436564). It’s also known as the Golden Ratio. And for some unknown reason, things in this ratio are more appealing to us than others. What I mean to say is, a rectangle with sides 5 and 8.0901699 (= 5 times φ) would appeal to us much more than a rectangle with, say sides 4 and 12. And this fact has been applied in numerous structures and paintings throughout history.

Now for something more interesting. We are all familiar with ‘rating the beauty’ of the opposite sex. Well, I recently came across a book which did just that, and very interestingly too. I’m taking the liberty of describing the author’s method in simpler words, although the essence remains the same.

And in case I forgot to mention it, it rates the beauty of the fairer sex.

All of us have heard of Helen of Troy (haven’t we?).She was supposed to be the most beautiful woman of her time. And it is said that because of her, a thousand ships were launched for battle. The population at that time was 100 million. For a moment, let us forget about the sex ratio problems and assume that there were 50 million women. So Helen was the most beautiful of 50 million women. Applying my all-time favorite unitary method, the most beautiful of 50,000 women would launch 1 ship. Every ship, in those days, had 25 oarsmen on each side, i.e. 50 men on each ship. Now, all of these men are certainly risking their lives (there’s a war going on, in case you’ve forgotten). So, the most beautiful of 1000 women would make a man risk his life. Let us give this woman a ‘perfect 10’ on a scale of 0 to 10. Let the unit of this scale be a Helena (Ha).

The author further says that beauty is variably distributed. Obviously. There are more 5’s and 6’s than 7’s and 8’s and so on. According to the author, beauty is logarithmic with a base 2 (I couldn’t find out much on this, so I’m assuming that it’s an assumption). That means that if beauty has to increase by 1 Ha, a woman must be the most beautiful of twice as many women. So, if a woman is the most beautiful of 2 women then her beauty is 1 Ha, of 4 then 2 Ha and of N women log₂N. One can immediately point out that a woman can be more beautiful than 10 Ha. Yes, she can. Consider Helen for example. Her beauty was log₂(50,000,000) = 25.5779 ≈ 25.6 Ha. Let us call this 1 Helen (H).

In any large population half the women have beauty 0 Ha (damn it!), one-fourth have 1 Ha, one-eighth have 2 Ha and so on. (If you agreed with that ‘damn it’, let me remind you that 0 Ha doesn’t really mean zero beauty. Revise the definition of Helena, if you’ve got confused.)

Now, for some values.

Best of a dozen – 3.6 Ha = 0.14 H

Most beautiful of a martyr’s 72 virgins – 6.2 Ha =0.24 H

Would cause a man to risk his life – 10.0 Ha = 0.39 H

Best beauty seen in a lifetime – 16.6 Ha = 0.65 H

Helen of Troy – 25.6 Ha = 1.00 H

Miss world – 31.6 Ha = 1.23 H

Most beautiful woman who ever lived – 34.2 Ha = 1.34 H

Well, I’d certainly like to meet some of these women!

Happy Rating, guys!

[Two more things. Firstly, I once read somewhere that there are only 10 types of people in this world: those who understand binary, and those who don’t. And secondly, the last thing I want is people telling me that there is something called ‘leap year’ and it has 366 days.]

I Have Some Questions

2010-11-26T19:26:00.001+05:30

Questions come naturally to us. ‘Why’ is that happening and ‘how’ is that happening. What is a d.c motor? Where does the blood in our body come from? How does NaCl react with H₂O? Why does the sky look blue? Many more…

But then…these are questions the human mind can cope with. These are technical questions.

There are certain questions that the human mind cannot answer convincingly enough. Does God exist? If yes, why? Why do some things exist while others don’t? Why do we exist? Does it all have a meaning, a purpose? If not, why not? Is this world real? Are there things like beauty, good and bad, right and wrong? Aren’t they all a matter of perspective? Isn’t a terrorist right from his own point of view? Is there a thing as destiny? If yes, that means I was destined to write this and you were destined to read this. If not, the same old question: Why not?

Probably, this is sounding stupid to some people. And probably, that is because they believe blindly. They believe that God exists and that destiny has its role to play, just because they were told so, or because they don’t want to think otherwise. The other reason might be that they think that this sort of discussion is a waste of time and that no conclusion can ever be reached. For the latter, I have a question: What isn’t a waste of time? Let’s say you achieve unparalleled greatness and glory in this life. Then you die. Now what? Ok, the world remembers you and celebrates ‘whoever you are-day’ on your birthday every year. Then the world comes to an end. Now what? Why did you do what you did? If your answer is satisfaction or happiness or something like that…you’ve got my answer too, haven’t you?

For the former, i.e. the believers, well, I’ve got nothing against anyone’s beliefs. In fact, I sometimes feel that believing in something really works wonders sometimes.

Anyway, coming back to the point, a few years back I had an argument with a guy about the existence of God. He said God existed while I differed. In the end I told him that he couldn’t prove that God existed. He retorted by saying that I couldn’t prove that He didn’t.

After some thinking, I concluded that one couldn’t claim that something existed simply on the basis that one couldn’t prove that it didn’t. On the other hand, one couldn’t claim that something didn’t exist simply on the basis that one couldn’t prove that it did.

Or, can one?

After all, nothing is impossible, right? Or is there a little mistake here too? I mean, if nothing is impossible, then it is not impossible that some things are impossible. Or even that everything is impossible. But then, the latter is obviously contradicted by everyday observation. However, the former is not. But the question is: Can we rely on our observation?

I don’t know the answers to these questions. No one does. But then, we are still one step ahead of the people who think it’s all a waste of time. We know the questions.

P.S.: I still don’t believe in God.

But why, then, do I write God with a ‘G’ and not a ‘g’?

I've Changed, Can Change Again

2010-11-16T00:00:00.002+05:30

Richard Carlson, in his book Don’t Sweat The Small Stuff, says:

Ask yourself this question:
"Will this matter a year from now?"

Well, Mr. Carlson, it will. And that is the damned problem. It will all matter a year from now. It will still matter five years from now. Ten years from now, it will still matter. Maybe it’s gonna matter all my life. And the way things are going on, it will matter big time.

I don’t know what I was going to write about but I was going to start this post by quoting Benjamin Franklin (something like – There’ll be plenty of time to sleep when you’re dead. So wake up and perform). But the moment my friends saw it, I got comments like “abe pagla gaya hai kya?” and “tu to mat hi bol, saale”. And not wrongly so.

Things have changed a lot in the last few months. More importantly (at least to me), I have changed.

I sleep at around six in the morning and wake up at around 10 (I myself haven’t yet been able to figure out how I manage on the days we have practicals, so I definitely can’t tell you). I just bunk classes and hang out with my friends the whole day, roaming around in the campus. I complete all my work on the day of submission, if not later, taking into consideration that I do complete my work. The books that I had bought at beginning of the semester are either lying covered by an inch of dust or are in unknown locations. And as this blog is open to everyone, let’s not talk about my grades; and obviously not about my personal hygiene.

But that’s not the point. The point is that I know that this is wrong and is ultimately going affect me negatively. In fact, it’s already started. I can see things going downhill. My grades. My life. Me. And what’s frustrating is that I can’t stop it. I just don’t have the will power. Well, to be completely honest, there’s a part of me - and it’s growing stronger everyday – that doesn’t want to stop it. I’ve begun liking it, enjoying it. I have started liking the taste of laziness, of procrastination. And that is what makes it so annoying. But, I just can’t bring myself to work. I’ve just lost interest. I’ll give partial credit for that to our Profs. The rest of the credit is, of course, mine.

But I’m not going to give up. Maybe the proof of it is that I'm writing this. I really hope it is. If you have misunderstood me, let me clarify. I’m not gonna stop bunking classes or start studying everyday. But I’m emphatically gonna start doing something productive. I already have a lot of ideas. Implementation, that’s the problem. But I’m gonna keep trying. ‘Cause regardless of what matters and what doesn’t, trying is definitely gonna matter Mr. Carlson. Definitely.

A Little Madness Is Necessary To Be Free

2010-11-13T09:52:00.001+05:30

Many people have doubted the fictitiousness of the following article. So I’ve put in the following disclaimer.
DISCLAIMER: All events in this work are completely fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

I like having fun. I can’t deny that. No one who knows me, can. And that was precisely what I was doing at 5:00pm on 28^th October. Umm… well, I was shaving. Not fun exactly, I agree. But then, I and my friends had bunked class for that!

Anyway, this is not why I’m writing this at 2:00am on 30^th. I generally utilize my laptop at this time for better things. So, let’s fast forward to 9:00pm on 28^th. I had not slept a wink on the previous day. I was waiting for Rahul -he had gone to meet some seniors in Topaz. After waiting till 10:00pm Choubey came and told me Rahul was having dinner in the mess. I and Manish went to the mess cursing. We had dinner, while Rahul said that the seniors had given him and Choubey the job of putting up notices in different hostels. I hadn’t been to any senior hostel, so I immediately told him that I’d go with them. When we finally left for the hostels, there were four of us -Rahul, Choubey, Avinav and me-and four copies of the notice. Four guys for four copies!

We first went to Amber and put up three copies in the different wings there. Initially, we were scared of seniors but after the job was done we gained a little confidence. Then we left for Sapphire. We had only one copy left but it was a coloured one, in fact it was the only coloured one we had. So it had to go to Sapphire. I mean, to us , Sapphire is empyrean. Going to Sapphire is an achievement, an achievement to talk about, to boast about. In fact, one of my friends, can’t name him, has made a hobby out of talking about Sapphire.

After putting up the copy there, we felt great. In fact we got a bit high. Avinav coerced me to call up a final year senior to ask whether he had some time to spare. Well, he had. So we went to his room and were soon in front of four seniors who were telling us about the traditions and fundas of ISM, different branches and placements. They insisted that I must change my branch (officially- Five year Dual Degree, Bachelor of Technology in Mineral Engineering and Master of Technology in Material Technology). No placements, they said, but then ISM will find a way, I guess, or else I’m sure I will.

When we left Sapphire (at 11:30pm) we were on cloud thirty-six. One of us, possibly me, suggested that we should find some seniors and get ragged. So, we went towards the main gate. Not finding any seniors there, we decided to go outside ISM for a walk. So, the four of us, complete idiots, I agree, went chatting. Talking about all the things that boys at ISM talk about –girls, girls, girls and girls. It’s like thinking about water in the toilet when you need it the most and there is none – utterly unavailing yet the most overwhelming thought at that time. When we could walk no more there was a unanimous decision that we should go to the station to have a cup of coffee. We took an auto and were at the station in ten minutes. We got excited when we saw that Sher-e-Punjab was open. Although no one apart from me was hungry, we decided to eat there. Within fifteen minutes, we were laughing and talking over butter chicken and naan.

Suddenly, Avinav said, “Abe Kalkatta chala jaaye ?”
“Chal chalte hain.”-me
“Abe saale energy resources ka exam hai kal.”-Choubey
“To aaj shaam ko chaar baje taka aa jayenge na.” –Rahul
“Chal tab.”-Choubey
“Budget?”-me
“1200 - 1300 mei sab ho jayega, chalo to sahi.”-Avinav

Well, it was decided. No one had anticipated this coming, but no one wanted to say no. We went to the station, bought tickets in the general coach, and went to the platform. The train came at 2:00am. We pushed our way through the crowd and found some seats.
The train started.

No one, except us, knew what we were doing. Damn it, even we didn’t. We started chatting excitedly but soon I was too sleepy to even think, much less talk. It had been forty-one hours since I’d slept. I slept for an hour over a period of three hours, being constantly disturbed by the pain in various parts of my body caused due to those extraordinary positions in which I was sitting. I finally got up at five when some uncle started firing questions at us about the scope of humanities (his son had taken the subject). We gave him some idea about it while I laughed in my mind thinking that ‘saala hum log ko apna scope pata hi nahi hai doosre ko gyan de rahen hain’. The train reached around forty minutes late, which is as good as on time in India.

Fresh morning air in Kolkata!

Avinav called up a friend of his who lived in Kolkata and asked him about the places we could visit. After that we went on the famous Howrah Bridge, clicking pictures even after a policewala told us not to! Then we took a bus and went to Eden Gardens. Although it was closed due to the construction in process, we talked our way in (can’t tell you how). Avinav was busy clicking pics, mostly of himself, Choubey was continuously cracking jokes and Rahul and me were either laughing away or trying to contact our friends to inform them about the basics of our current situation.

Manish called us up at 8:00am asking,” Kahan hai be?”
“Kalkatta mein.”-me
“Bhak saale! mazaak mat kar be.”
We tried a lot to convince Manish but he wouldn’t even listen. Finally, we made a video call and showed him around. We showed him three pretty girls and he was instantly convinced that we were not in Dhanbad. Thanks to BSNL 3G. And to those sweeties.

We told Manish ‘proxy maar dena be’, and then headed to Victoria Memorial in a taxi. After reaching there, the driver asked for 38 bucks, although the meter showed eighteen.
“Bhaiya, 38 kaise hua, meter mein to 18 dikha raha hai.” -Choubey
“Are bhaiya, (18x2)+2=38”-driver
“Waah, kya baat hai…kya logic diya hai…aap ISM join kar lijiye. Faculty bahut tarakki karegi. –me
“Specially Mathematics and Computing (Choubey’s branch).“-Choubey
Anyway, we paid and left. Victoria Memorial was quite a sight. I and Rahul quickly found a place in the shade to sleep (we were damn tired), while Avinav and Choubey explored the place, clicking pics. Well actually, Choubey was clicking Avinav’s pics and Avinav was clicking…umm…well…Avinav’s pics.
I suddenly woke up and saw that Rahul was awake and had a strange expression on his face. An expression that I knew too well.
“Kya be?Kahan?”
“Wahan.” He said with his eyes.
“Wooow…cool.”
“Hot, yaar, hot.”
There was a young couple there. I can’t exactly tell you what the scene was, but I think you’re smart enough…

We walked out of Victoria Memorial completely refreshed.

After some time we found ourselves walking on the footpath. Rahul, absentmindedly, took a leaf from some tree and chewed it. It caused some allergy and soon he was jumping ‘cause of the irritation in his mouth! Anyway a bottle of water solved the problem and we left for Forum, which was supposedly the smallest mall in Kolkata.

When we reached there… well, simply put, it was bigger than anything I’ve seen in Dhanbad (cut out ISM, obviously; not to mention the railway station). We roamed around a bit and then decided on watching a 3-D movie, Piranha. After watching the movie we did not forget to splurge out in Pizza Hut. I tell you, it affected our bank balance considerably. But, damn it, we were just out of control.

We immediately left for the station after that. Reaching there we took a general ticket till Dhanbad. However, while roaming on the station we saw another train which went till Asansol (an hour from Dhanbad). Our train was due to leave after an hour, so we went and sat on that train (which was leaving immediately). On reaching Asansol, we saw a passenger train which was just about to leave for Dhanbad, so we went and sat in it. Just as the train started someone told me that the train took 2 hrs (instead of 1). Within seconds it was decided that we should jump from the train and take a bus instead. Well, we did just that. Wrong decision, obviously. The ‘jumping from the train’ part didn’t go that successfully: Avinav and Rahul broke their sandals, while I bumped into some guy who didn’t have enough sense to move out of the way, and sprained my ankle badly. And the ‘taking a bus’ part went…well… unsuccessfully. Stated simply, the next bus which left for Dhanbad was after 5 hrs.

So, ultimately we went back to the station and waited for the train for which we had initially bought the ticket in Kolkata. We were damn tired by then. Me and Rahul sat down on the platform. Rahul even took a nap! When the train arrived we saw that there was hardly any space to breathe in the general coach. Anyway, ‘marta kya na karta’. We boarded the train. On the way back, we were shouting, playing rubbish games & revising the past 22hrs. We reached Dhanbad at 7:00pm.

The moment we reached ISM our friends surrounded us, hundreds of questions were fired at us, we were, both applauded and scolded. But, honestly we were feeling amazing (also amazingly stupid, by the way); the only thing that went wrong was the budget: we had spent Rs.4000!!!

Moral of the story: DON’T EVER GO UNPLANNED TO KOLKATA
(kidding, do it…it’s fun!)