Requiem for a dream, infestation of the brain for satisfaction.............

His steps were slow and unwavering. as he reached his destination, an abandoned cottage shaped shed, he paused for a while and sniffed the dusk air..There was still some time left..He occupied a bench and revelled in the fading light..Thoughts were racing like a dog with a burnt tail through his head. His hands reached up to scratch his chin and cheeks... His fingers met with resistance provided by his facial hair. It had been a long time since he had shaved. A trickle of blood coursed down his jaw and splattered onto his shorts. Distracted he looked down to see his hands...Bloodstained........His eye right eye was swollen, the lid bloody and the pupil barely recognizable.....



The hand that had caused the injury was still lying at his feet. Severed.... the lifeless fingers seemed to beckon... Seething he kicked the lifeless hand away.....Power...was intoxicating....Liquor like addiction rather...Momentary discern caused by the firefly caused him to stop and notice it through his good eye..... Violence was supreme... the essence of crushing something so fragile and consuming it.... The raw hunger was insatiable... transcending beyond comprehension...stretching out of the reach of logic and confinement of one's passion to burst free.

The moon seemed to be hesitant. Pity was self loathing and the mystical was rampant. The aura was full of energy and the air was charged with electricity........

Requiem for a dream, infestation of the brain for satisfaction.............

The moon revealed itself......




The transformation was underway.... Man gave way to the untamed....Reasoning , logic and care gave way to passion , unbridled hunger and animal instinct.....


The werewolf was an embodiment of man's will to break free, explore unprecedented horizons and howl out it's rebellious message to the world....

With a swish of the tail, he bounded out of the shed and disappeared into the night...


[ NOTE : Images for representational purposes only ]

WHEN I WAS A COMMANDO FOR A DAY....

This incident took place when I was in class I...a tender and impressionable age...when I was just starting to be introduced to the infinite world of cricket :), when my hair was just starting to develop spikes of their own, when my heart used to regularly beat loudly on seeing cute girls and when I became conscious of my weight and my fat butt (I was chubby back then :) )

I was the great chief of the playground in front of my house...My loyal subjects included children from the neighboring colonies and the trees that lined the playground... On a lazy Sunday I decided to hold an important meeting with all my ministers. The point which was being discussed was of prime importance. There was this peanut seller who used to encroach our playing area before we used reach the park at 4pm... The exact motive of this peanut seller was never quite clear... Maybe he was a CEO fed up with life and the peanut package he was getting...Maybe he was a terrorist who was setting up a control room admist the trees so that he could attack us at a crucial juncture and take over the vast kingdom over which we ruled.....

The next day, we decided to put our plan to the practice test...With perfect commando like training we swooped down the playground slide and ran a short distance across and scaled the huge banyan tree under which some seniors were playing cricket....I imagined myself to be one of the elite commandos belonging to the MARCOS group and grappling one of the tree vines, I tried to execute a perfect rope rappel from the chopper (the banyan tree) onto enemy territory below....Alas..as soon as my feet hit the ground below....an explosion blew me of my feet...

Unfortunately one of the seniors playing cricket swung his bat towards me accidentally and it caught me flush in the mouth....I still remember kneeling over, my mouth a bloody mess...all my front milk teeth gone and shouting "mission aborted.....the terrorists have got me !!!!" before collapsing in a heap and sacrificing myself to become an immortal martyr on my school land.


My friends, solemnly carried me on their shoulders to the school hospital and gave me a 21 lollipop salute before leaving. The rest of the story is quite funny because the dentist told to have as much ice cream and cold drinks as possible to stimulate the numbed area in my mouth and within 5 months I grew back my teeth...But the incident taught me to respect the commandos who put their duty before their lives.... I salute the commandos who saved the day for all of us and pay a tribute to those who put down their lives while fighting for our motherland.

THE SCAR STORY ...

I am in an autobiographical mode today….My left hand is littered with several scars….One on my forearm…Three on each of my knuckles….three on my fingers and one on my palm……

The scars have taught me several important lessons:

1) Do not ever rush to someone’s aid unless you have the capability to take pain… I have been luckily blessed with the capability to absorb reasonable amounts of pain…..

2) Do not think that being a hero is easy…beating up the villains is not child’s play. 9 out of 10 times you will be beaten up instead.

I come from Lucknow, the city of Nawabs. Now Lucknow is divided into two parts, old Lucknow and the modern part known as Gomti Nagar. In old Lucknow there is a place known as Aminabad, famous for it’s numerous shops, notorious for the various murders it has played host to and feared for it’s social unrestlessness.

I had once gone to have a dekko accompanied by some of my friends at around 7 in the evening. Now Aminabad has several arms shops which sell air guns, pistols etc….All my friends crowded into the shops excitedly to have a look at the “pieces of art” :). I, on the other hand preferred to visit the aquarium across the street. I enjoyed myself thoroughly and learnt a lot about “kippers” and “guppies” that day.

As I was stepping out of the shop I happened to cross a dark alley which led to a rural Muslim settlement some metres away. My ears were literally pierced by a scream which rang out…I placed the scream to have come from a small girl and assumed that she must be in some sort of trouble… I looked around me…Everybody had either not heard the scream or else were pretending not to have heard it at all. I strode into the alley and was encountered with a truly disgusting sight.

A small girl about 8 to 9 years old was being held by three young boys…One of them was trying to perform some horrible activity with her skirt because the way he was tugging at it sickened me…The other two were holding onto to each of her arms. What truly shocked me was the age of the girl!! Such a small girl…Such a tender age…even small girls are not safe nowadays…. I let fly with some expletives and tried to scare the boys away…To my horror all three of them came flying at me…Two of the bastards caught me by the neck and arms while the third proceeded to slap me left, right and centre. The poor girl scampered off and stood at a distance and watched with her hands tightly clutching her braid.

I managed to free myself somehow and took the swine in front of me by the throat and proceeded to tear his shirt off…But I had discounted the other two…All of a sudden I felt something warm trickling down my forearm. The bastards had slit it with a vegetable knife…. A peanut hawker had arrived on the scene and confronted by the fight he ran to get some help….The pain was blinding…. Looking at blood makes me dizzy and the amount of blood flowing out of my arm made me nauseous… The boys proceeded to push me against a standing Bajaj Pulsar and to my misfortune the bike came down on my left hand…My left hand was flattened under the bike tanker and I was howling like someone on the verge of madness…… My howling did scare the boys away though :) They scampered like rabbits…. I do have a loud voice……People swarmed the place and rest of the story is as usual the same boring one…Everyone took me took me to a doctor…..I got patched up…blah blah blah and I kept smirking at the spineless asses who did not have the decency to react to the girl’s screams.

That is the story of my scars of some of the scars….My heart went out to the little girl and all the girls in general…. All my life I have treated the fairer sex with the outmost respect and never touched them without their permission…. The sight of the boys all over the little girl really made me feel ashamed of the male community…. I wish I could flog the bastards if I get another chance but first I must bulk up my body a bit…excuse me :) the dumbells are waiting :)

THE MISTAKE....THE BLADE...

His hands were shaking….He curled his fist into a ball. The bottle, full of brandy a few minutes ago was almost empty now….Streaks of liquor stained the sides of his mouth and colored his spotless white shirt a shade of deep brown. His eyes were straining out of their sockets… His nerves were failing him…..He remained glued to his wicker chair as if he had been struck down by apoplexy.

The shrouded body which lay beside him now was moist with tears from his eyes….His hands wandered of their own accord from his side and removed part of the shroud to uncover the face…It was an angelic face…pale and fair with wisps of golden and curly hair peeping out from under the head……..

He remembered the day very clearly…This very girl had rushed into his arms…She was so full of life with her bright blue eyes twinkling and her petite frame warm and full of youth’s blessed energy. She had told him that she loved him dearly and he was taken by surprise….How could somebody love a sinner like him???? She clearly was not aware of his alter ego…his demonic other self…. But her face captivated him and her concern warmed his cold heart….Maybe… he thought in his mind, he was beginning to fall in love…..

He shook himself out of his reverie and knelt beside the girl’s body and spoke in a trance like state:

“Please oblige me this once my angel,

Please make me lonely once more,

Without you I cannot live,

I can now never tell you about my love for you…

Please oblige me this once,

Make me the lonely person I used to be…

Why did we break apart my princess??

Why did our love come to an end??

Sleepless nights and unanswered questions now haunt me…

Everything is incomplete without you…

I cannot bear this loneliness…

I cannot live without you….

Please oblige me this once my angel,

Please make me lonely once more…

Now that you are not here,

Your memories are in my mind and heart,

Your absence drives my tears,

Give me an excuse to forget you…..

I cannot bear this loneliness…

I cannot live without you….

Please oblige me this once my angel,

Please make me lonely once more.”

He broke into heartrending and piteous sobs as he buried his face into her cold shoulder……

He suddenly tore himself away from her body and strode across the dimly lit room and grasped the bloodstained surgical knife kept on the dressing table…Fever seared through his body as he recalled the horrible incident….

It had been as easy as ever….He had hid himself in the dark alleyway…He wanted to get this night’s exercise over with quickly… He had spotted a young lass skipping down the alleyway with bubbly energy and zest… In one fluid motion, he had grasped her by her hood and slit her throat using his knife…The exercise was over within a few seconds…He felt warm with delight as he stood shrouded in the London fog…With his toe he rolled his victim over to look at her face and slowly his blood turned to ice in his veins…. It was her…. He had sunk down to his knees tearing his hair out in desperation……. What a mistake he had committed!!!! How was he to know that she would come skipping into his cold arms where he lay waiting like an agent of hell??

The church bell chimes aroused him from his painful thoughts…… He looked at himself in the mirror and wiped his face clean…The hands had stopped shivering…He slipped on his gloves and cleaned the knife blade…He shrugged on his long black overcoat and breezed out of the room….. Jack the Ripper was out again….

THE MAIDEN AND THE SHADOW......

The presence of the shadow was haunting. It was bordering on supernatural phobia but it felt no more than the sixth sense tingling. She looked around and felt it again…The skin buds were tingling….warning her of danger. She hastened her steps and coagulated with the heavy crowd….The ocean was crowded that night…..The sky was starry and welcoming….

Her mind was preoccupied with the shadow…It loomed up at every corner; it peeked out of the remotest place…. She felt her fire in her belly. The fire was good….it warmed her. The warmth from heated coals was always pleasant.

She closed her eyes savoring the warmth and for the briefest of moments let her guard down. Silence rang out for those few seconds and when she opened her eyes the shadow was before her….It had captured her at long last. Tall, menacing, ruthless and brutal…..it stood before her…

She tried to shrink away…..but the shadow spared her no time…It violated her, pierced her….. She felt helpless….the pain was numbing….How strong and secure she had felt some hours ago!!! But this vile beast had destroyed her…She gasped…the pain was overwhelming…The monster was still inside her….then suddenly it let go…..Disaster poured in…

She was drowning….her soul destroyed; her dignity smashed, her virginity violated….She sank to the bottom and lay there….peacefully…. Her last thoughts were… “I am the Titanic and I am destructible“. Miles above her the savage iceberg silently floated further away into the dark ocean…..

OF PORN AND P :)

This is the recounting of an incident involving me and a certain friend of mine :) I will name her P :) She reminded me of this incident yesterday when she called me up after 3 months. (Not fair P…you took so long :) ) Now this happened when I was in class XI and the number of porn movies watched per day was your status symbol amongst boys. Now on a bright sunny morning, COFAS, our school’s International Computer Olympiad was inaugurated. Being a part of the school team… I mingled with the contestants from the other schools….and then I ran into P….I still remember that I had suppressed a loud guffaw when I had first seen her. Blue eyes, a gold earring in one ear and a SILVER one in the other…. :) BLACK LIPSTICK !!!!! Gothic :) (P is going to kill me later….) She was pretty enough to look at (There you go P….. :) ) and we hit off straightaway (not just because she was pretty :) but because we were competing in the debate against one another and I always like to know my competition better :) )

There was a free for all class going on in our division. Students from any college (especially the outstation and international ones) were encouraged to pay these classes a visit. I sat down in the last row along with P. To my surprise P took out a bunch of SUPERMAN comics from her bag….This gothic girl was turning out to be a real tomboy…Later she confessed that she had harbored an infatuation for the chaddi clad superhero….Sick I say !!! He is a brilliant superhero I must confess, but then how on earth can girls fall for a guy who wears his underwear on top of his tights ??????? Anyway, soon we were immersed in the comics without paying a microgram worth of attention to the teacher Ms Khanna (whom we had labeled as an Ostrich…Sorry Maam :) ) Suddenly our peon, who always carried a kiloton of paan in his mouth and adorned the walls of the college with his post renaissance paan paintings, burst into the classroom. “Maam….we have discovered porn cds hidden in the bathroom....they were hidden in the western toilet water tank”. F**K!!! and I must have said F**K about a thousand times under my breath because P pinched me and held my hand tightly to stop my flow of F**KS. Man !!! this was bad for our college’s reputation in front of the outstation candidates. Ms Khanna had enough common sense to take the peon outside the class. After a few minutes she came back in and announced in her quivery voice “Nimish…stand up please!!!”…Now Nimish was the ultimate porn dealer of our school. His collection of porn cds and dvds was unsurpassed. Rumor has it that he had a Godrej Almirah in his room which was stuffed with carnal viewing instruments. Nobody had seen it of course :)

Now Nimish had been suspended earlier because he had been trapped by the college authorities trying to smuggle in pornware into college. The pornware was confisticated ( I have a sneaky suspicion that the college authorities struck it rich that day…..They fled with the pornware and god knows what they did at home with it :)….I may be wrong but then :) ). Our teacher asked him to step outside the classroom and calamity struck when she did so. Our class had a detachable, hanging blackboard and while Maam and Nimish were passing it, Maam’s hand accidentally hit the blackboard hard. The blackboard swung slightly to the right……HORRORS!!!! A couple of porn cds dropped to the ground unwedged from their hiding place behind the blackboard. We all rushed to have a closer look. One look at the blonde on the cover of one of the cds almost made Maam pass out. Holding Nimish’s hand firmly she stormed out of the class to interrogate him. Some students swear that Maam was muttering “Ram…Ram kitna bada paap !!! “ while she was breezing out of the class. P and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. We enjoyed a lovely two days together and I still remember that after I had won the debate, P was the only one who had run up to me and given me a big hug. She had cried a lot because she was from Ahmedabad and she had to return once the competition had ended. I gave her one of my favourite books to keep and her tears vanished instantly. Later after a month P called me up to say that she loved me, I was pleasantly surprised, but then I wanted to be a very good friend and nothing more. She took that very well and today she is one of my 4 “girl” friends (not girlfriends :) ) and is constantly giving me insights into the female brain….Thanks a ton P…..Miss you…and will never forget those two days and the black lipstick :)

I CRUSHED....THE CRUSH :)

College crushes and school romances always make you giggle and blush....Those candy floss like sweet moments are really a treasure trove and if you have had a reasonable number of caramel sweet experiences like I have ,then life is not that bad after all.

My first ever crush was this beautiful and utterly cute looking girl in the La Martiniere Girl's College choir. Since the boys and the girls colleges used to meet up during Christmas and celebrate it with a common choir...those days of practice for me were complete bliss. How lovely she was!! During the first year, I sung with the sopranos and in the second year I sung with the altos (I never got to sing base:( ). All the time my eyes used to be on her while we sung. Once or twice our eyes did meet and she smiled in a sweet, innocent way that all cute girls do...... I never got to know her name. The last time I saw her was at the end of the performance when she was holding a candle in her hand and looking very pretty in white......

My second crush was in high school and the girl in question was again cute and very likable ( or so I felt). The manner in which i proposed to her was downright funny. That day I left home with steely determination. I tried to speak to her during the assembly but I failed. I made a desperate move. When she hurrying up the stairs, I caught her arm and took her into the college sick room. After bolting the door ( I still remember that I was trembling) I proposed. She agreed and the "affair" ended after a year and a half. ( We parted ways amicably).

There was this girl whom I danced with during our Lyons house cock house party. It was the first time in my entire life that a girl told me that, "Abhik, I think you are cute"...bliss... :)

When I became the captain of my house in school, I faced a reasonable number of requests for dates.....but I did not fancy a single one... ( All the attention bloats you up though I must say.....)

The best moment of all was when I told this warm, adorable and extremely beautiful girl via sms that (you know...THAT thing :) )....It was and will be one of the singularly most beautiful moments of my life. I remember that I rushed to the temple near my house.... trembling, sweating and praying with all my heart. God answered my prayers :). The phone conversation after this incident was fantastic and will always remain close to my heart....... I love my life.... :) CIAO

DAD...MY DAD

It's not father's day....but still ....today I have a gamut of emotions stirring within my chest. This post is dedicated to my father Ashok Chatterjee.He is in my estimate the most courageous and morally correct person I have ever seen in my entire life. It's true that all of us admire our dads and in our eyes...everybody's dad is the perfect one......but my dad is kinda different. Heard this statement several times earlier ? :) Dont worry...I will not bore you and that is a promise :)

My dad lost his father at the tender age of 15. He was the last son in a family of 7 boys and 2 girls. My dad never got to pursue his dream....he wanted to become either an IAS officer or a doctor. His educational aspirations were not realised because nobody funded his education. My dad was a brilliant Table Tennis player. He got selected for the UP under 19 tournament but at the last moment my grandmother fell ill and he quit just so that he could be with her. He paid his Class X , XI and XII fees by working in a sugarcane factory at night. He had just one set of his school uniform and no shoes......But still he topped his school in the CLASS X and XII board exams.

My dad has suffered in his professional life, I am not afraid to say that we lost several of our treasured possessions.......but even at the age of 54 my dad is still fighting. My babba still sleeps with me when I run a fever, he still sits up with me at night to watch cricket matches, he still guides me and corrects me whenever I am wrong. He is very affectionate...my dad....he really is...We average a hug a day (and a hug every 2 days when he is angry with me). His "Achcha Babu" is something I do not want to leave home without when I set out for college.He has provided me with everything that a son can wish for.My dad a Bsc,Msc,LLB,MPA is still my inspiration. Which man will leave a foreign job just because his mother doesn't want him to leave her?? Very few people will......He treats us every time he has money. He never thinks about buying that Arrow shirt or that Colorplus pant but he will always buy me my Lee jeans......

Love you Dad....for being there for me. I am proud to be your progeny, your son....I hope I make you proud. I wanted to say so much more.....but I cant......too emotional right now :) ...CIAO

SHERLOCK HOLMES :THE MYSTERY OF THE DISAPPEARING HARPOON- PART 2

“Mr. Downing immediately made a quick survey of the surroundings to ensure the harpoon’s disappearance and then contacted Scotland Yard. But here Mr. Holmes comes the most astonishing part…..After I visited the scene of the crime, a glaring fact struck my eyes….the pedestal on which the harpoon was mounted had a gold ring lying under it!!!” Lestrade remarked his eyes aglow with excitement. “And what is so special about this ring my dear friend? “enquired Holmes, his eyes twinkling with merriment. “Mr. Holmes…this ring belongs to Neil Johnston and was buried with him when he died….” said Lestrade. Holmes drew a deep breath and smiled. “Aaah Watson…..a most startling fact eh??” remarked Holmes, his nostrils quivering.

“Now Lestrade….since you have obliged me with your singular tale…..I too have a surprise for you. You chided me for my carelessness today Watson but the truth is that the pain of waiting for a certain individual, coupled with the lack of activity forced me to supplement my weaknesses. Gentlemen, I am about to introduce to you, a charismatic and an extremely gifted individual. I may not be wrong in saying that he matches me wit to wit and trick to trick….and if I am not mistaken ….those are his footfalls upon my humble staircase….”

The door swung open and for a moment I was speechless. Even the proficient gabbler Lestrade seemed to be for once…out of words. “Gentlemen ….I give you Monsieur Hercule Poirot “, Holmes remarked with a flourish. The man strode over and shook Holmes firmly by the hand. Then he turned around and tipped his hat. “Aaah Monsieur Watson…the able and intelligent historian….a pleasure to meet you at last “ the little man said beaming and twirling his striking moustache. “And you mon ami “ he remarked looking at Lestrade “ you may not be my Inspector Japp but you are as able as efficient as he is”. Lestrade flushed with pleasure. “You arrive at an opportune time my dear Poirot, Lestrade here has an engaging case to be looked upon. It would be my honour if you would join me in unraveling this ball of twisted string”, said Holmes smiling in his familiar indulgent manner. “It would be my pleasure mon ami” replied Poirot beaming “but how I wish my able Hastings was here to witness this brilliant occasion! He would have been absolutely delighted. Very well Monsieur Holmes. If you give me a few minutes to apply my pomade and drink my sirop, I will be most wholeheartedly at your disposal”.

After half an hour, Poirot had refreshed himself and the story had been recounted for his benefit. “This case is rechreche’- very fine” he remarked, “Did you by any chance Madame, add chocolate to this sirop ?”. Miss Hudson, Holmes’s landlady, who had just entered the room and served Poirot, nodded in affirmative. “A la bonne heure”, he said smiling, “you are a very intelligent lady, mademoiselle”. Miss Hudson left the room blushing. I knew of Holmes’s startling ability to charm the fairer sex but evidently Poirot was a master at it too.

“Have you collected the evidence Lestrade??” Holmes asked. “Yes Mr. Holmes…I have it here in my overcoat pocket”, said Lestrade and took out a sealed plastic bag. “Vous eprouvez trop d’emotion, Lestrade”, remarked Poirot “it affects your hands and efficiency. The next time please seal the bag a little better”. I looked at Holmes only to find him suppressing a smile. “A treat for you Watson, Poirot and I will solve the case without leaving 221 B Baker Street”. Poirot chuckled “Wonderful mon ami…you have made this interesting”. ”Have you solved the case already???” Lestrade asked incredulously. “No….I have not….not yet……” said Holmes, his fingertips together, ”not yet……” .

************************************************************************************

This post is also dedicated to Agatha Christie.

SHERLOCK HOLMES :THE MYSTERY OF THE DISAPPEARING HARPOON- PART 1

I am very excited about this post. This is because I have taken up a huge challenge. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle is one of my all time favorite authors. I still worship him and I still revere Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock Holmes has been an integral part of my childhood and I cannot thank Sir Arthur enough for creating a character so delightful and believable that it has influenced the lives of several eager and curious readers like me.

I am about to write a short story…a memoir and I hope that I can do at least 0.0001% justice to the living fictional legend that roams the foggy streets of London up to this very day. I dedicate this post to the memory of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

SHERLOCK HOLMES

THE MYSTERY OF THE DISAPPEARING HARPOON- PART 1

It was with great anticipation that I opened my overflowing tin chest. I cast aside the length of cord which held the lid together and delved into the container. I rummaged for a good fifteen minutes before I finally laid my hands on the document I was looking for. It is from this document then ….that I put forward the details of a very singular and interesting case which happened to involve Holmes and myself. You will pardon me for not revealing the exact date of the incident so that it may not be traced back to it’s actual occurrence, for the wounds are still raw and the people concerned are still threatened by the law.

It was on a dreary and most depressing day that I found Holmes in the blackest of moods as soon as I entered our Baker Street quarters. His eyelids were heavy and drooping and his pipe was emitting the foulest of black puffs. “Have you been using that infernal drug again Holmes?” I asked with some asperity. “Pray…have a seat Doctor. You look remarkably fit and toned”, Holmes remarked, his keen eyes performing a routine check as usual. “Do not worry about me Holmes…you look as if you have been starved for days at end” I uttered. Holmes’s cheeks had shrunken and his keen eyes had lost some of their luster and had assumed a dream like glazed look. It was at moments like these when I assumed control. The master became the listener and the awed student became the teacher.

“What good do you get out of that drug, my dear chap?” I remarked blandly, “It will slowly finish you off. I have often told you….do not let some substance destroy that great brain which you have been gifted with”. “Ah!! Good old Watson”, Holmes smirked, “it is to engage myself in these moments of inactivity that I call upon my worthy friend……But….your arrival is most timely……for I see a man upon our doorstep….Maybe he brings some magical potion to stir me out of my slumber…...Eh Watson??”.

I turned to face the doorway and was greeted with the sight of our guest. “Good Evening my dear Lestrade….you bring me a case I hope. Watson’s arrival is most certainly turning out to be an omen for some thrills”, Holmes remarked. In reply the ferret like Inspector raised his cap and occupied a seat next to Holmes. “Pass him the glass Watson…here Inspector, pour yourself some brandy. A worthy medicine….. to cure us of the ailments of a terrible chilly evening. Now….Sir….pray…how can I help you??”. Lestrade downed the brandy and began in the earnest. “A strange caper, Mr. Holmes. A most singular case. A robbery took place at the London Museum last night. At around 10 pm, Mr. Downing, the curator abandoned his office and locked the doors to the museum. When he reopened the doors the next morning and began his usual inspection, he discovered to his horror that a harpoon belonging to the legendary whaler, Neil Johnston had vanished.”

TERROR MATRIX

8:15 pm

“When are we going to go home Mommy??” Alexander asked in a tiny voice. ”Patience…dear…these men are going to free Mommy very soon and then we will go back home together and watch Nickelodeon …Okay sweetie??” whispered Laura…

“Hey….shut your traps….both of you”…..The words rang out in the darkness and hit the two of them like homing missiles. Alexander started to cry………..

“Hey lady….shut your kid up….or I will blow his brains out….I SAID SHUT UP !!!” the cold voice echoed…The owner of the cold voice walked right up to them…His eyes were as lifeless as a tombstone and his face was masked by a bristling black beard…His long moustache hid his thin, cruel lips which were set firmly together. Alexander stopped crying all of a sudden….He spotted the glittering demonic look in the man’s eyes….

Alexander was crying again…..the bearded man had delivered a sickening kick to his ribs…..”You wild beast….” Laura cried out “You monster….don’t you feel ashamed?? Attacking a poor helpless child….Don’t you have any mercy?? “

“Hey Lady….Do not give me that mercy bullcrap….Do you want me to slit your throat??” he advanced menacingly towards her… “Number 12….stop...” a deep booming voice shot out from the darkness “another move and I will shoot you through the head….Control your volatile behavior”. Number 12 smirked and slowly melted back into the shadows.

8:35 pm

“Hello…..Yes…We want both our friends to be set free. WHAT?? Do you think we are mere kidnappers?? We do not want money you ignorant fool….We want justice…we want revenge….You police people are total swines….Do you think you can stop us by offering us marked bills?? 15 Park Avenue, West Street….Bring our friends over here and release them…No funny tricks you mongrel or we will blast both the woman and her child to hell…You have half an hour…I repeat …try any tricks and you will regret it..”

8:55 pm

“Number 12…it is almost time….bring the woman and her kid and prop them up against the window”….”There’s still some time…I have some unfinished business to attend to…” Number 12 intoned. “Whatever you do…do not hurt her” said the man with the deep voice. Number 12 chuckled and strode into the darkness. He spotted Laura and Alexander huddled together on the cold floor. “Get up!!” he roared and caught Laura by the wrist. He hauled her to her feet with one swift jerk and began to drag her away into an adjoining dingy room. Laura saw the carnal hunger in his eyes and began to struggle violently. “Help…No!! No!! Please …. “. Number 12 gagged her with his hand. Suddenly Alexander attacked him…The child kicked, scratched and punched in vain. Number 12 dealt a severe kick which left him sprawling on the floor. He dragged her into the room and shut the door. “NO…NO….” screamed Laura and burst into tears…He was too powerful….He grasped both her hands and pinned her to the floor falling on top of her…knocking her flat…forcing himself on her….Laura screeched….after a while there was silence….punctuated by his grunts of carnal satisfaction…

9:05 pm

“You have been surrounded …..Vacate the building and walk out with your hands behind your head….Leave the woman and her child alone….Let them out first….I repeat…Let them out first…” roared a magnified voice shattering the evening calm.

“Damn…the STF …..Did they trace us?? How could they?? We used an encrypted number….The dirty dogs….they tricked us….” screamed Number 12. “Calm down Number 12…” said the man with the deep voice. Number 12 dragged the unconscious Laura out from the room and propped her against the open window. “Look at her….” he screamed “I will break her neck…back off….where are our friends?? I said back off you scoundrels!!!”. Alexander was shivering in the dark corner. He felt his hand being tugged at. He looked up to find a surprisingly kind faced man with red cheeks and startlingly blue eyes. “Get up kid…” he whispered “do not be afraid…I am here to help you…trust me…I will help you get out of here”. “Are you one of these bad men?? What about Mommy??” Alexander whispered back. The man hesitated before replying “Yes…I am one of them but I am not like them…I am a good man. Do not worry. I will save your Mommy….Come on now”.

Alexander obediently followed him. “Number 15” said the deep booming voice “bring the kid to the window”. “Yes Leader…just a minute….” replied the blue eyed man. Gripping Alexander’s hand tightly he whispered “RUN….” and bolted out of the room and down a staircase. “NUMBER 15….YOU DOUBLE CROSSER” screamed the Leader as shots rang out across the hallway.

Number 15 burst out of the back door and paused in the shadows. “Go on kid…see those policemen there ?? …go to them….go on….” “Are you going to get Mommy??” asked Alexander. “Yes I am…go on now” he said. Alexander ran across the road and was lifted up by a burly STF officer. “There you are kid…Did they let you go??” he asked. Alexander shook his head. “Number 15 saved me”. “Number WHO ??” asked the officer. “There he is” Alexander pointed to the man in the shadows. “Hey you….” shouted the officer.

A deafening blast pierced the night and the entire building was torn into pieces. Alexander saw his mother….A moment ago she was at the window…A second later she was ripped into bits before his eyes. The top floor of the two storey building dissolved into smoke and rubble. The STF team took cover behind their vans and cars. “MOMMY !!!!!!” shouted Alexander and broke down. “Holy Christ …they blew themselves up…” said the officer. A pistol shot rang out. Alexander released himself from the officer’s grip and ran across the road. His eyes fell on Number 15 ‘s crumpled body. There was a pistol in his right hand and a hole in his temple…………………

The STF officer came up from behind and took the sobbing Alexander into his arms………………

THE DUCHESS OF MISHTINAGAR

Piu screamed with delight. Her soft hands grasped the sides of her wheelchair tightly. Her expressive face was wrinkled with lines of wonderment. In front of her stood a huge black couch decorated with glitterati. The couch was also comfortably embellished with several squashy pillows fitted with golden covers. Two small boys stood on either side of the couch wielding large fake spears. ”Is this my throne??? Is it??? tell me that it is…Please…Please…mommy…tell me that it is…”,exclaimed Piu impatiently tugging at her mother’s arm.

A large burly man walked up slowly towards Piu’s mother. He had twinkling blue eyes and a face that was writ with lines of experience and honest hard work. ”Good Evening Surangana…”, he said tipping his hat to Piu’s mother. She responded with a nod of her head. “Welcome Mayor Sahab…welcome.. ” , said Ratan, a small wizened old man.”Aah Ratan…how are you holding up???”, asked the mayor. ”I am doing well Sir…very well.. thank you..”, said Ratan. ”Good Evening Joydeep .. ” ,greeted a tall handsome man who walked over to shake hands with the mayor. ”Shuncho go…could you please help me some of these decorations??”, asked Piu’s mother who had begun to put up ribbons. Piu was zooming about in the well manicured lawn which was buzzing with people on her wheelchair. ”Bas beta…beta …bas…”, said the tall man. “Daddy….did you see my throne???”, gasped Piu as she zoomed towards the tall man. “Yes shona …I did see your beautiful throne….but please do not exert yourself…it is bad for your delicate health remember??” ,said Piu’s father gently. “It is time…..everyone gather around”, shouted Piu’s mother.

“Esteemed ladies and gentlemen and my dear friends…”, began the mayor taking his place at the center of the lawn, “we are gathered here today for a very important occasion. Today we will be anointing the very first duchess of our small and humble town. Since you all know that having our very own duchess will take our town to dizzying heights without any further delay let me introduce to you …our duchess… our very own Piu!!”. The small crowed clapped and applauded wildly. Piu, beaming and smiling was helped by her father and mother onto the large couch. “I now anoint you………Duchess of Mishtinagar!!!”, exclaimed the mayor and placed a glittering crown on her head. The crowd clapped louder and louder. “Mommy…why is my throne black and not golden???”, whispered Piu into her mother’s ear. “It’s the new fashion darling….all the new queens and duchesses prefer black thrones nowadays”, her mother whispered back. Satisfied Piu settled back into her couch to savor the crowd’s reaction and the chants of “All hail Duchess Piu!!!” which had just started to ring out.

TWO WEEKS LATER……

Piu’s mother wiped her eyes. Her husband stood by her side his face buried in his hands sobbing loudly. The mayor walked up to them and said “ My deepest condolences to the both of you ….she was a lovely child…”. “We cannot thank you enough Joydeep…”, said Piu’s father in slurred tones, “ you helped us to fulfill her last wish …her last fancy…..She wanted to become a duchess and you helped us to make her believe that she was one. She was very happy you know….she really did believe that she was a duchess…My beautiful girl…only 12 years old…I thought God had punished her by making her a cripple but then as if it was not enough…blood cancer!!!! My poor daughter Joydeep!! She never stood a chance….she left us Joydeep…”. He broke down completely…sobbing piteously. ”She was not a make believe duchess…she was a real one…she will always be remembered as the girl who dared to dream …..dream of becoming the duchess of our small town..”, said the mayor. He eyes wondered for a moment towards the huge sign across the road which proclaimed “DUCHESS PIU ROAD”. Then his eyes shifted back to focus on Piu’s parents….the parents of the first duchess of Mishtinagar….

THE BUFFET OF LOVE...

Something tender….yes….these are the two words I would use to describe love. Love has infinite worshippers. Love baptizes new souls every single day. Love is a buffet with several exotic flavors: Love can be passionate, love can be platonic, love can be sisterly, brotherly, fatherly and motherly. Love can be psychotic, love can be obsessive, love can be your life………. Love brands you with a red hot iron. It comes with it’s share of responsibilities. Only if you pass love’s test….are you a truly lovely person.

I am an apprentice of love. In the earlier stages of my life, I used to think that love is all candy sweet and that there is no pain involved. I was wrong like any other young person floating on romance novels and castles in the air. People ask me if I have truly experienced love. Now that is a tough cookie to chew on…It is easier to eat cow dung than to find true love if you know what I mean….The secret to finding true love is that you do not go looking for it, it will find you. I know this statement has been said again and again but I have recently grasped the full meaning of it. I had gone looking for love. At one point of time I assumed that I had found it but I was utterly wrong. Despondent I gave up. But then out of the blue...love branded me in a way that I will never forget.

I met a sweet girl who changed my life forever. I met her using one of the most controversial elements of the 21^st century…ORKUT…hardly the place to find true love some might say.. yes…Even I had thought up the same thing. But how wrong can one be…As our friendship grew, we discovered that we had some similar tastes. We decided to give telephonic conversations and short messaging services [sms] a try. I discovered that everything I wanted in the woman of my dreams was present in her character. She was honest enough to point out my flaws and kind enough to praise me when I achieved some small goals. The proof of a genuine character is very simple. If the person criticizes you for your flaws privately but supports you publicly then that person is definitely your well wisher. She rang true in every way and made me grow more attached to her with every passing day. An unspoken kind of attachment developed between us and before I knew it we had professed our feelings for one another. I was still a bit raw at that point of time…I was still unsure if this was what I wanted, but now looking back at the past, I can safely say that yes ..it was what I wanted. I am self obsessed by nature. She pointed it out and I will be indebted to her for the rest of my life. She made me realize that in love one has to put the other person before oneself. She made me realize that a caring word or line binds the two individuals together. She made me realize that one should be original and honest and transparent. She made me realize that one can feel the pain the other half is going through if the feelings are true enough….Wow…that’s a lot of realizations. Enough to mould me as a person for the better. The greatest thing she made me accept is that in a relationship you should not consider changing yourself to adjust to each other, rather you should accommodate these features as positive plates to your character armour.

You must be wondering why I am boring you with my equally boring love story…After all there are better love stories to read aren’t there??? Romeo and Juliet, Beauty and the Beast etc. etc. but hopeless romantics like me always have a story to tell, experiences to share. We hope to spread love and inspire people who have not tasted it, not to lose hope. Love is just around the corner. Just take a blind turn and bump into it. This particular blog is dedicated to that special woman. It may not be enough but it is honest and it has emerged from the truest depths of my heart…If you are reading this….Thank you for being there for me and I sincerely hope that our’s is a small but successful story of true love….

To the rest of my readers I say that feel free and happy. All of us are burdened with the tensions and strains of everyday life. If you are not in love, shiver with happy anticipation because one day you will surely find it. To the darkest pessimistic I would say…stop being a wuss and wait for love to strike and yes….please do welcome it…maybe that will change some of your views.

I hope that I have made you see my take on love….for the stern purists who are wondering why I haven’t put exclamation marks in the right place…. I plead guilty. My keyboard’s button is out of order. Until the next time…stay lovely and pardon me for my grammatical errors.