The unsteady rhythm of the bus, the fumes from combustion of adulterated diesel from the autos, the constant chatter of the conductors and the buzz of conversation of the passengers in a bus are ideal fuels for insomnia. But i was sleeping and that too on the last row where the jerking was supposed to wreak havoc in my spinal cord or so people said.
However, just as the bus crossed Deshapriya park, some silly auto-driver got in the way of the bus and i woke up as a result of the cacophony of voices of the people offering to pass verdict on the driver. I woke up to find a little boy staring at me with round eyes. Judging by his size, i placed him between 6 and 7. I have this habit of smiling at people who stare at me. So, i smiled at the boy. The boy immediately looked away, shuffling from side to side.
I took the opportunity to study him, because lets face it, i wasnt working on my world famous thesis at that moment. He had a heavy bag slung across his shoulder and almost sagged under its weight. He looked very tired to me. I decided to start a conversation.
"Hey kid, which class are you in?" i asked.
"C-Class 1" he replied. I have noticed that young children, on being asked a question by an unknown person tend to ask the same question back. This boy too was no exception.
"Which class are you in?" he asked cautiously.
"I'm in class 10." i replied.
"Wow, class 10?" he asked.
"Er, yeah." i said uncertainly. I didnt quite realise why he said wow.
"Why did you say "wow"?" i asked curiously.
"Because you are already in a double digit class!" he said with deep respect.
I coudnt help smiling.Double digit class? Never thought of it quite like that. Or have I? Quite suddenly, quite unexpectedly, a wave of deja vu hit me, and a number of childhood memories and thoughts resurfaced. And then i remembered the awe and reverence i used to have for class 10, the inexplicable feeling of achievement that i associated with it. As if i just realised it, i remembered with a start that i wont see class 10 again.
It was an odd moment. After the last day, after the farewell, i finally realise it on a bus because of a little boy. A feeling of nostalgia mixed with similar proportion of nausea due to the driver's incompetence, clouded my thoughts.
I remember getting up and asking the boy to take my seat. Somehow i couldn't get his grateful smile out of my head, cause what i saw in him, was a little flash of my past.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Laws of Time part 3.
He was the owner of Connexions, the world’s largest telecom company and had business in every country of the world. And that also provided him numerous opportunities to conduct some unconventional business in a discreet manner. He had a fetish for guns. All kinds. His collection of guns was enough to put the armies of small countries to shame. And he himself could handle every one of those guns. A wonder with all automatics and a superb shot, he handled a bazooka with the easy nonchalance of a boy with a pea-shooter.
To keep himself in shape, he put himself through a rigorous routine somewhat like the triathlon. It is said that the triathlon is the toughest of all sports. The requisite endurance is phenomenal. It involved running through a distance of 14 kilometers and subsequent swimming of about 2.1 kilometers and then cycling for 40 kilometers. The strong and heavy muscular legs required for running had no use whatsoever in swimming and acted as a heavy burden. Similarly, the strong arms and shoulder muscles for swimming was nothing but a hindrance for cycling and running. At 20, it is a cruel sport and at 45,, it’s a wonder he was still standing on two legs.
And that’s what he was doing when his cell phone rang. Although he did not entertain interruptions during his fitness regime, his phone showed that Rick was calling. Anything for his son.
“Hello son, how the hell did you find the time to remember your poor dad?”
“Cut out the sarcasm, dad, I need some help.” said Rick, without any preamble.
Mr. Maclean heaved a sigh. Some things never change. Like his son.
“What kind of help?” It couldn’t be financial, that Mr. Maclean knew because Rick had a bank balance of billions.
“Dad, I need a large amount of power”, stated Rick.
Mr. Maclean was used to his son’s atrocious demands but he was very proud of his son. So he tried to give him everything he could. And that meant everything that was available.
“How much power, exactly?”
“27 million kilo-watts.” he said as if he was simply estimating the cost of a bag of potatoes.
“What? 27 million kilo-watts? What in the world can you need that much power for?” To say that the demand was ridiculous was a massive understatement. In spite of being used to his son’s demands, this particular demand really astonished Mr. Maclean.
However, the answer that comprised two words, dispelled all doubts regarding the feasibility of the demand from Maclean’s mind.
“Time travel.” said Rick, his voice quavering for the first time. It was evident that he had saved this newsflash for the last and his answer did have the desired effect and probably more.
Maclean couldn’t believe what he was hearing although he was the only person in the world who knew all the details of his son’s progress in building the time machine. He had to know, he was funding it. The sheer enormity of the claim unnerved him and to him, it completely justified the demand of power.
“You have completed it?” Maclean asked almost whispering.
“I have.” said Rick though his voice wasn’t much louder either. It seemed that both of them had forgotten that they were talking on one of the most secure lines in the world.
“You’ll have all the power you need. But don’t go public with your invention, at least not yet.” Mr. Maclean was sure that the Government would not hesitate a moment to make a new law and declare time machines government property. He wanted the time machine as his property.
“Sure thing dad, I’ll keep it quiet but when can I get the power?”Rick was already calculating how the machine would start. If his dad says he’ll get the power, then he will.
“I’ll need to pull a few strings, that’s a big demand, son, so give me two days and then you can conquer the world” .In fact, Mr. Maclean, whose whole name was Danny Maclean, was also planning to conquer the world when a stray memory suddenly opened up in his mind.
To keep himself in shape, he put himself through a rigorous routine somewhat like the triathlon. It is said that the triathlon is the toughest of all sports. The requisite endurance is phenomenal. It involved running through a distance of 14 kilometers and subsequent swimming of about 2.1 kilometers and then cycling for 40 kilometers. The strong and heavy muscular legs required for running had no use whatsoever in swimming and acted as a heavy burden. Similarly, the strong arms and shoulder muscles for swimming was nothing but a hindrance for cycling and running. At 20, it is a cruel sport and at 45,, it’s a wonder he was still standing on two legs.
And that’s what he was doing when his cell phone rang. Although he did not entertain interruptions during his fitness regime, his phone showed that Rick was calling. Anything for his son.
“Hello son, how the hell did you find the time to remember your poor dad?”
“Cut out the sarcasm, dad, I need some help.” said Rick, without any preamble.
Mr. Maclean heaved a sigh. Some things never change. Like his son.
“What kind of help?” It couldn’t be financial, that Mr. Maclean knew because Rick had a bank balance of billions.
“Dad, I need a large amount of power”, stated Rick.
Mr. Maclean was used to his son’s atrocious demands but he was very proud of his son. So he tried to give him everything he could. And that meant everything that was available.
“How much power, exactly?”
“27 million kilo-watts.” he said as if he was simply estimating the cost of a bag of potatoes.
“What? 27 million kilo-watts? What in the world can you need that much power for?” To say that the demand was ridiculous was a massive understatement. In spite of being used to his son’s demands, this particular demand really astonished Mr. Maclean.
However, the answer that comprised two words, dispelled all doubts regarding the feasibility of the demand from Maclean’s mind.
“Time travel.” said Rick, his voice quavering for the first time. It was evident that he had saved this newsflash for the last and his answer did have the desired effect and probably more.
Maclean couldn’t believe what he was hearing although he was the only person in the world who knew all the details of his son’s progress in building the time machine. He had to know, he was funding it. The sheer enormity of the claim unnerved him and to him, it completely justified the demand of power.
“You have completed it?” Maclean asked almost whispering.
“I have.” said Rick though his voice wasn’t much louder either. It seemed that both of them had forgotten that they were talking on one of the most secure lines in the world.
“You’ll have all the power you need. But don’t go public with your invention, at least not yet.” Mr. Maclean was sure that the Government would not hesitate a moment to make a new law and declare time machines government property. He wanted the time machine as his property.
“Sure thing dad, I’ll keep it quiet but when can I get the power?”Rick was already calculating how the machine would start. If his dad says he’ll get the power, then he will.
“I’ll need to pull a few strings, that’s a big demand, son, so give me two days and then you can conquer the world” .In fact, Mr. Maclean, whose whole name was Danny Maclean, was also planning to conquer the world when a stray memory suddenly opened up in his mind.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Probability made me realise that...
Fine afternoon. I was looking expectantly at my older cousin. He was looking disdainfully at his younger cousin(me).A fat S.N.Dey book lay propped up against a big jar of cookies. The circumstances were quite favourable for what i was doing-learning probability.
"So, probability..." he began.
"I know the basic thing", i said "favourable occurrences by possible occurrences."
"Nicely put.Now, why don't you show me some real stuff? Do this." he said pointing triumphantly at a problem. He always believes me when i say that i am slow though i try to pass it for sarcasm.I had decided ages ago that he isn't too smart because no one takes my sarcasm seriously.
problem: A bag contains 6 red and 4 white balls.If two balls are taken out what is the probability that both of them are white?
There are some days when i am at my dumbest, not that i am at my smartest in the other days but on these days i have difficulty understanding practically everything. And a number of incidents since the morning had proved that it was one such day.
"Wait a second" i said, the rusty old wheels suddenly turning in my head with surprising alacrity. That was quick.
total possibilities= 10!/8!*2!=45
favourable possibilities= 6!/2!*4!=15
therefore probability= 15/45= 1/3
"Piece of cake", i said, feeling intensely relieved. I just escaped from a barrage of his choicest of curses.
"Okay", he said, obviously pleased because i had detained him for the past 3 hours,"If you do this you are done and if you cant do this, well, then i wont teach you any further because its futile".
"All right!" i said cheerfully, looking at the next problem. Then it struck me. There was something wrong with that statement. Either way he stops teaching me and escapes. That wasn't right! Still...
There are 6 chairs. If 4 boys and 2 girls are arranged randomly, what is the probability that the two girls will be seated together?
"Easy" i said overconfidently.
total possibilities=6!
favourable possibilities=5!
therefore the answer= 5!/6!= 1/6
"Done!" i said, smirking.
He looked at my work and shook his head.
"You moron, cant the girls interchange their position?" he scoffed. It was only a probability problem but his look suggested that i had confused a typewriter for a palmtop.
"Oh!",my eyes went perfectly round.
"The answer is= 5!*2/6!= 1/3", he said.
"But in the last problem, the one with balls i didn't...oh!" i exclaimed.
"what?" he asked warily.
"Balls and girls are different!" I said excitedly.
"what a find bro!", he said, laughing.
"O!"
"So, probability..." he began.
"I know the basic thing", i said "favourable occurrences by possible occurrences."
"Nicely put.Now, why don't you show me some real stuff? Do this." he said pointing triumphantly at a problem. He always believes me when i say that i am slow though i try to pass it for sarcasm.I had decided ages ago that he isn't too smart because no one takes my sarcasm seriously.
problem: A bag contains 6 red and 4 white balls.If two balls are taken out what is the probability that both of them are white?
There are some days when i am at my dumbest, not that i am at my smartest in the other days but on these days i have difficulty understanding practically everything. And a number of incidents since the morning had proved that it was one such day.
"Wait a second" i said, the rusty old wheels suddenly turning in my head with surprising alacrity. That was quick.
total possibilities= 10!/8!*2!=45
favourable possibilities= 6!/2!*4!=15
therefore probability= 15/45= 1/3
"Piece of cake", i said, feeling intensely relieved. I just escaped from a barrage of his choicest of curses.
"Okay", he said, obviously pleased because i had detained him for the past 3 hours,"If you do this you are done and if you cant do this, well, then i wont teach you any further because its futile".
"All right!" i said cheerfully, looking at the next problem. Then it struck me. There was something wrong with that statement. Either way he stops teaching me and escapes. That wasn't right! Still...
There are 6 chairs. If 4 boys and 2 girls are arranged randomly, what is the probability that the two girls will be seated together?
"Easy" i said overconfidently.
total possibilities=6!
favourable possibilities=5!
therefore the answer= 5!/6!= 1/6
"Done!" i said, smirking.
He looked at my work and shook his head.
"You moron, cant the girls interchange their position?" he scoffed. It was only a probability problem but his look suggested that i had confused a typewriter for a palmtop.
"Oh!",my eyes went perfectly round.
"The answer is= 5!*2/6!= 1/3", he said.
"But in the last problem, the one with balls i didn't...oh!" i exclaimed.
"what?" he asked warily.
"Balls and girls are different!" I said excitedly.
"what a find bro!", he said, laughing.
"O!"
Laws of motion- through the eyes of a 7 year old.
Overambitious, I know, but i wanted to make my 7 year old brother realise that he knew Newton's laws of motion but just wasn't aware they were THE laws of motion. Actually, i had realised that i wasn't going to be Einstein so i decided to work on my brother.
"See, Aniv, heard of newton?" i asked eagerly.
"No." First hurdle.
"He was a the one who formulated the Laws of motion." i explained.
Polite puzzlement. I decided to change tactics.
"He discovered things." i said and that made sense to him so i proceeded.
"See, when i put a bar of chocolate on the table, where do you go to get it?" i asked.
"On the table of course!" i read in his eyes,'Someone tell this guy that he is talking like a moron!'
"Yes, it means that since no force acted on it, its still there. If another force acted on it, say your mum moved it, then it wouldn't be there any longer! That's Newton's first law."
His look clearly suggested a good many things but i didn't give up.I gave him a ball and asked him to throw it towards me, while i changed positions.
"So, when i'm close to you, you throw slowly but when i'm away you throw hard, why?" i demanded.
He looked as if now he was confident that it wasn't safe for him to remain anywhere close to me. I am not sure but i think i caught him muttering "Duh!"
"Its because of newton's 2nd law! you are using it but dont know that you are! geddit?" i asked eagerly."newton 2nd law states that "The rate of change of momentum..." i told him the law.
He looked as if Hebrew would have been a welcome change but i persevered.
"Lastly," i began triumphantly,"Every action has an equal and opposite reaction, do you ever punch the wall?" i asked him, certain that this was one law he would understand.
"No, cause it hurts." he said briefly.
"That's because the wall hits you with equal force!" i explained glad that at last i was making some headway.
"These are Newton's laws of motion and he published them in 1600 something." i added.
"Ok." he said. I looked at him, dejected. I had hoped for some curiosity.
Then suddenly he unfolded all his ten fingers and began some intense calculation. I could almost see the desperation in his eyes because of lack of fingers. After a considerable time he looked up and said," So, Newton made these laws 400 years ago?" he asked. Finally, a question though one i did not expect. But still, a question!
"yeah, sometime during the 1600s.Why? i asked, puzzled.
" So, before he made these laws",Aniv began,"people used to keep something somewhere and look for it elsewhere? And they used to move around bumping and hitting the walls because they did not know the laws?" he asked, really interested.
I prefer to think he was just being dumb. If that was sarcasm then...well, that did do the trick because i gave up immediately.
"See, Aniv, heard of newton?" i asked eagerly.
"No." First hurdle.
"He was a the one who formulated the Laws of motion." i explained.
Polite puzzlement. I decided to change tactics.
"He discovered things." i said and that made sense to him so i proceeded.
"See, when i put a bar of chocolate on the table, where do you go to get it?" i asked.
"On the table of course!" i read in his eyes,'Someone tell this guy that he is talking like a moron!'
"Yes, it means that since no force acted on it, its still there. If another force acted on it, say your mum moved it, then it wouldn't be there any longer! That's Newton's first law."
His look clearly suggested a good many things but i didn't give up.I gave him a ball and asked him to throw it towards me, while i changed positions.
"So, when i'm close to you, you throw slowly but when i'm away you throw hard, why?" i demanded.
He looked as if now he was confident that it wasn't safe for him to remain anywhere close to me. I am not sure but i think i caught him muttering "Duh!"
"Its because of newton's 2nd law! you are using it but dont know that you are! geddit?" i asked eagerly."newton 2nd law states that "The rate of change of momentum..." i told him the law.
He looked as if Hebrew would have been a welcome change but i persevered.
"Lastly," i began triumphantly,"Every action has an equal and opposite reaction, do you ever punch the wall?" i asked him, certain that this was one law he would understand.
"No, cause it hurts." he said briefly.
"That's because the wall hits you with equal force!" i explained glad that at last i was making some headway.
"These are Newton's laws of motion and he published them in 1600 something." i added.
"Ok." he said. I looked at him, dejected. I had hoped for some curiosity.
Then suddenly he unfolded all his ten fingers and began some intense calculation. I could almost see the desperation in his eyes because of lack of fingers. After a considerable time he looked up and said," So, Newton made these laws 400 years ago?" he asked. Finally, a question though one i did not expect. But still, a question!
"yeah, sometime during the 1600s.Why? i asked, puzzled.
" So, before he made these laws",Aniv began,"people used to keep something somewhere and look for it elsewhere? And they used to move around bumping and hitting the walls because they did not know the laws?" he asked, really interested.
I prefer to think he was just being dumb. If that was sarcasm then...well, that did do the trick because i gave up immediately.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
The laws of time part 2.
He decided upon inaction as any kind of movement would simply give away his position. Soon, bullets began to be fired in earnest. Apparently the Russians had lost interest in the prospect of interrogating him and had settled for extermination. He frantically ran his free hand over the weapon to somehow activate it.
Then it happened. ‘it’ is actually a very mild word for what happened because it nearly gave Danny a heart attack. The weapon spoke or maybe something spoke through the weapon. It said “the gun’s a part of you, command it.” Now Danny considered himself quite intelligent but that made no sense whatsoever to him. A part of him? A gun? Dubious, he decided to act upon the advice for the excellent reason that it was the only logical thing he could think of doing.
He made a rough estimation of where the Russians were and pointed his gun towards it. He said “fire!” though without any appreciable result.
Then he reconsidered the advice and thought that generally he never commanded his hand to pick up anything, he just did it. The Russians were very close to him now though they still had no inkling to his exact position. They were covering each other’s back in a very professional manner. However, professional or not, they weren’t prepared to be hit by a blue beam that seemed to just kill them. It didn’t hurt them, it didn’t burn them nor did it shock them. It simply and effectively killed them.
Danny was surprised. He examined the gun at his leisure and concluded that it was much advanced than the regular weapons he was used to. Now, he simple felt like removing his hand and just as easily his hand slid out of the gun. He grinned, his white teeth gleaming in the darkness and thought about the object in his hands. He slowly began to think about the vistas of opportunity that might open up if the weapon be put to correct use. However there still was the inexplicable phenomenon, the man who first used the gun and the way he disappeared. And why? He knew that whatever had happened that night was unprecedented because people simply don’t appear suddenly from thin air and then disappear just as suddenly.Moreover,he did not believe in anything supernatural.
His mind slowly wandered over the various possible explanations, and each of them was wilder and more implausible than the last. However he realized one thing, that such a weapon as his, would make the life of any mercenary a bed of roses in a real sense of the term.
20 YEARS LATER.
Rick was feeling like he was at the top of the world. No, make that the universe. A third year student of mechanical Optics at Yale and already hailed as the best the University has ever seen or likely to see. The recipient of the student of the year award for the last three years, he had flummoxed the professors with questions and answered many that flummoxed the professors. His dream, however, was the dream of every third child, that of creating a time machine. He, however, unlike any child, knew what his dream was and due to some obscure source of confidence, he firmly believed that it could be built and he would be the one to do it.
So for the last three years he had devoted most of his free time as well as busy time to the creation of a time machine. Most people knew it, few believed it and the professors totally rejected it. No one becomes the student of the year three years in a row if they didn’t work like mules or so they thought.
And now Rick was elated. He was feeling like that because according to his calculations, only one hurdle separated him from his ultimate goal-Time Travel. He had succeeded in making what he believed was the world’s first time machine. But the final hurdle was also the biggest hurdle. Theoretically the machine required astronomical amount of power to run, to transport up to a limit of three persons in the future or past. The required power was equivalent to the amount required by entire New York for three days. And with all his ingenious theories he couldn’t think how to achieve that. So he decided to file a patent.
Three days of complete restlessness followed, at the end of which he got a reply. It was somewhat like this.
“Dear Sir,
Though we appreciate your taking the trouble to file a patent we hope you appreciate our complete disbelief regarding your claim. Time Machines are a part of Science fiction and moreover even if they were real, a university third year would certainly not be able to build one.”
Rick read and re-read the letter, anger slowly welling up within him. At last, he meticulously tore the letter into sixteen pieces and sat down. How dare they disbelieve him? He, the greatest student Yale has ever seen? He decided that it was time for some direct action and called the Mr. Maclean secretary.
Now Rick’s academic achievements have made him a rather familiar face among people of high ranks. Mr. Maclean was one such person and he was also Rick’s father. He was one of the richest men in the world and certainly the richest in the Northern Hemisphere. His life was an open book and anyone could turn through the pages but that was from his rise as a business magnet. Before that, his life was as open as the secrets of Kremlin.
Then it happened. ‘it’ is actually a very mild word for what happened because it nearly gave Danny a heart attack. The weapon spoke or maybe something spoke through the weapon. It said “the gun’s a part of you, command it.” Now Danny considered himself quite intelligent but that made no sense whatsoever to him. A part of him? A gun? Dubious, he decided to act upon the advice for the excellent reason that it was the only logical thing he could think of doing.
He made a rough estimation of where the Russians were and pointed his gun towards it. He said “fire!” though without any appreciable result.
Then he reconsidered the advice and thought that generally he never commanded his hand to pick up anything, he just did it. The Russians were very close to him now though they still had no inkling to his exact position. They were covering each other’s back in a very professional manner. However, professional or not, they weren’t prepared to be hit by a blue beam that seemed to just kill them. It didn’t hurt them, it didn’t burn them nor did it shock them. It simply and effectively killed them.
Danny was surprised. He examined the gun at his leisure and concluded that it was much advanced than the regular weapons he was used to. Now, he simple felt like removing his hand and just as easily his hand slid out of the gun. He grinned, his white teeth gleaming in the darkness and thought about the object in his hands. He slowly began to think about the vistas of opportunity that might open up if the weapon be put to correct use. However there still was the inexplicable phenomenon, the man who first used the gun and the way he disappeared. And why? He knew that whatever had happened that night was unprecedented because people simply don’t appear suddenly from thin air and then disappear just as suddenly.Moreover,he did not believe in anything supernatural.
His mind slowly wandered over the various possible explanations, and each of them was wilder and more implausible than the last. However he realized one thing, that such a weapon as his, would make the life of any mercenary a bed of roses in a real sense of the term.
20 YEARS LATER.
Rick was feeling like he was at the top of the world. No, make that the universe. A third year student of mechanical Optics at Yale and already hailed as the best the University has ever seen or likely to see. The recipient of the student of the year award for the last three years, he had flummoxed the professors with questions and answered many that flummoxed the professors. His dream, however, was the dream of every third child, that of creating a time machine. He, however, unlike any child, knew what his dream was and due to some obscure source of confidence, he firmly believed that it could be built and he would be the one to do it.
So for the last three years he had devoted most of his free time as well as busy time to the creation of a time machine. Most people knew it, few believed it and the professors totally rejected it. No one becomes the student of the year three years in a row if they didn’t work like mules or so they thought.
And now Rick was elated. He was feeling like that because according to his calculations, only one hurdle separated him from his ultimate goal-Time Travel. He had succeeded in making what he believed was the world’s first time machine. But the final hurdle was also the biggest hurdle. Theoretically the machine required astronomical amount of power to run, to transport up to a limit of three persons in the future or past. The required power was equivalent to the amount required by entire New York for three days. And with all his ingenious theories he couldn’t think how to achieve that. So he decided to file a patent.
Three days of complete restlessness followed, at the end of which he got a reply. It was somewhat like this.
“Dear Sir,
Though we appreciate your taking the trouble to file a patent we hope you appreciate our complete disbelief regarding your claim. Time Machines are a part of Science fiction and moreover even if they were real, a university third year would certainly not be able to build one.”
Rick read and re-read the letter, anger slowly welling up within him. At last, he meticulously tore the letter into sixteen pieces and sat down. How dare they disbelieve him? He, the greatest student Yale has ever seen? He decided that it was time for some direct action and called the Mr. Maclean secretary.
Now Rick’s academic achievements have made him a rather familiar face among people of high ranks. Mr. Maclean was one such person and he was also Rick’s father. He was one of the richest men in the world and certainly the richest in the Northern Hemisphere. His life was an open book and anyone could turn through the pages but that was from his rise as a business magnet. Before that, his life was as open as the secrets of Kremlin.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Fiction: Laws of Time.
Danny was running. For his life. And that made the difference.
When you run for your life your skeletal muscles somehow defy the accepted norms of human limits and suddenly you become something more than human. And that’s exactly what was happening to Danny.
However it seemed as if his pursuers were not human either, for they kept up with him. Danny wasn’t surprised. The Russian soldiers had the reputation of being superbly fit. Danny knew that the chances of him escaping alive were dismally slim but his trained mind still calculated and showed a 7 % chance of success. So he thought of a plan. He had succeeded in worse situations.
He was running through the narrow streets of Ternopol in Ukraine with near zero visibility. He had come on a secret mission hired by an American he had never seen. The American had insisted on complete secrecy. Danny had approved because the American hadn’t seen him either. But that meant that he had no diplomatic cover. Capture most certainly meant terrible nights in the dark cells of some torture chamber and slow agonizing death. He had a small pill of potassium cyanide tucked is his sleeve cuff which he kept for such occasions. So before he executed his plan he risked a glance behind him.
A tremor seized his hand and his mouth suddenly went dry for along with the men following him he saw three dark shapes running towards him. He recognized them and remembered a line that his teacher had explained “When you see ‘em running behind you and you have no cover, then stop thinking (For him to tell Danny to stop thinking was really something because throughout the course, he had told Danny all about how to perfect the art of thinking and doing it quickly) and switch to plan GHIC. GHIC stood for “god here I come”). Those were unrestrained Doberman pinschers, the most terrible and vicious fighting dogs in the world.
The chance of his accomplishment of the mission was never more than one in a hundred and now, these had lengthened astronomically. His mind quickly tried to find a possible way out but registered a complete blank. His hand tightened around his Beretta as he forced his unresponsive mind to work furiously and kept on running.
Soon he could hear the panting of the Dobermans now gaining on him. He was about to turn around and fire as a last attempt, when a sea green light illuminated the dark night and the three dogs yelped and fell. He stopped abruptly and turned around to find the source of the light. He could just make out the faint outline of a man standing about 50 feet to his left. Never the one to assume anything, he raised his gun at the man though he had just saved him. The man did not budge but it seemed he simply disintegrated.
Regaining the control of his mental faculties, he wasted no time thinking about the unexplained phenomenon but checked the dogs. They were unblemished but unmistakably dead. But the men were still after him and it was quite likely that they had seen the green flash and were headed towards him.
He swiftly ran to where the unknown man had stood and was surprised to see an object lying on the ground. He hadn’t expected that and he hated it when unexpected things happened. He did not doubt his eyesight for a moment but half of his mind wanted to believe that all of it had been some sort of hallucination. He just did not believe that god really came and helped the earthly beings and on top of that he wasn’t even a believer.
It was some sort of weapon that he was sure of, but the likes of which he had never seen before. And he had seen quite a few because a complete knowledge of weapons is an absolute necessity if you are a mercenary. Picking it up he wondered if he could use it for then he would probably have a chance against the Russians. After a methodical examination he found a small label that read
“PUT YOUR HAND IN THE SOCKET “
If he had the luxury of time, he would have been very happy to scrupulously examine the weapon before he thrust his hand inside it but he did not and so he did as the note said.
Quickly but cautiously he inserted his hand in the socket and stood still, expecting something. Nothing happened. He swore softly and tried to move his finger. He felt as if his fingers were glued to the gun and although he wasn’t to know that, they actually were. He didn’t panic although fighting the Russians with his hand stuck in a useless contraption didn’t look promising. A shot cracked and he felt a bullet whiz pass his ear. He dropped to the ground now thinking about his next course of action.
When you run for your life your skeletal muscles somehow defy the accepted norms of human limits and suddenly you become something more than human. And that’s exactly what was happening to Danny.
However it seemed as if his pursuers were not human either, for they kept up with him. Danny wasn’t surprised. The Russian soldiers had the reputation of being superbly fit. Danny knew that the chances of him escaping alive were dismally slim but his trained mind still calculated and showed a 7 % chance of success. So he thought of a plan. He had succeeded in worse situations.
He was running through the narrow streets of Ternopol in Ukraine with near zero visibility. He had come on a secret mission hired by an American he had never seen. The American had insisted on complete secrecy. Danny had approved because the American hadn’t seen him either. But that meant that he had no diplomatic cover. Capture most certainly meant terrible nights in the dark cells of some torture chamber and slow agonizing death. He had a small pill of potassium cyanide tucked is his sleeve cuff which he kept for such occasions. So before he executed his plan he risked a glance behind him.
A tremor seized his hand and his mouth suddenly went dry for along with the men following him he saw three dark shapes running towards him. He recognized them and remembered a line that his teacher had explained “When you see ‘em running behind you and you have no cover, then stop thinking (For him to tell Danny to stop thinking was really something because throughout the course, he had told Danny all about how to perfect the art of thinking and doing it quickly) and switch to plan GHIC. GHIC stood for “god here I come”). Those were unrestrained Doberman pinschers, the most terrible and vicious fighting dogs in the world.
The chance of his accomplishment of the mission was never more than one in a hundred and now, these had lengthened astronomically. His mind quickly tried to find a possible way out but registered a complete blank. His hand tightened around his Beretta as he forced his unresponsive mind to work furiously and kept on running.
Soon he could hear the panting of the Dobermans now gaining on him. He was about to turn around and fire as a last attempt, when a sea green light illuminated the dark night and the three dogs yelped and fell. He stopped abruptly and turned around to find the source of the light. He could just make out the faint outline of a man standing about 50 feet to his left. Never the one to assume anything, he raised his gun at the man though he had just saved him. The man did not budge but it seemed he simply disintegrated.
Regaining the control of his mental faculties, he wasted no time thinking about the unexplained phenomenon but checked the dogs. They were unblemished but unmistakably dead. But the men were still after him and it was quite likely that they had seen the green flash and were headed towards him.
He swiftly ran to where the unknown man had stood and was surprised to see an object lying on the ground. He hadn’t expected that and he hated it when unexpected things happened. He did not doubt his eyesight for a moment but half of his mind wanted to believe that all of it had been some sort of hallucination. He just did not believe that god really came and helped the earthly beings and on top of that he wasn’t even a believer.
It was some sort of weapon that he was sure of, but the likes of which he had never seen before. And he had seen quite a few because a complete knowledge of weapons is an absolute necessity if you are a mercenary. Picking it up he wondered if he could use it for then he would probably have a chance against the Russians. After a methodical examination he found a small label that read
“PUT YOUR HAND IN THE SOCKET “
If he had the luxury of time, he would have been very happy to scrupulously examine the weapon before he thrust his hand inside it but he did not and so he did as the note said.
Quickly but cautiously he inserted his hand in the socket and stood still, expecting something. Nothing happened. He swore softly and tried to move his finger. He felt as if his fingers were glued to the gun and although he wasn’t to know that, they actually were. He didn’t panic although fighting the Russians with his hand stuck in a useless contraption didn’t look promising. A shot cracked and he felt a bullet whiz pass his ear. He dropped to the ground now thinking about his next course of action.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Me and my terrible complexes.
So many complexes.Just one personality. A bit unfair on me but cannot help it. I have experienced so many of them and sometimes two of them decided to pay a visit together! the most common used to be the superiority complex. i had this notion that i am one special bloke, destined to shake the world or something! Modesty,had it ever come to me, had gratefully left me long ago. At that age i was one insufferably condescending kid. Overconfidence isnt good and i paid.
When i was fourteen the glasses through which i looked at the world shattered into a million pieces. And i had some realisations.big and serious ones. then i began suffering from inferiority complex! the whole lot of talent around me and the meagre amounts of the stuff in me made me feel more insignificant than an average dragon-fly.
And my new acquisition is the similarity complex! Oh no, this not the side effect of an an overdose of similarity theorems though they dont like me too much either, always escape at the crucial point before i get them. In-fact i dont even know what this complex is, all i know is that i suffer terribly from it! I noticed striking similarities among everyone including myself! Then i realised it was a side effect of growing up!
This complex,for a change, was good! It gave me confidence but not overtly so. So ladies and gentlemen i give you-SIMILARITY COMPLEX!
When i was fourteen the glasses through which i looked at the world shattered into a million pieces. And i had some realisations.big and serious ones. then i began suffering from inferiority complex! the whole lot of talent around me and the meagre amounts of the stuff in me made me feel more insignificant than an average dragon-fly.
And my new acquisition is the similarity complex! Oh no, this not the side effect of an an overdose of similarity theorems though they dont like me too much either, always escape at the crucial point before i get them. In-fact i dont even know what this complex is, all i know is that i suffer terribly from it! I noticed striking similarities among everyone including myself! Then i realised it was a side effect of growing up!
This complex,for a change, was good! It gave me confidence but not overtly so. So ladies and gentlemen i give you-SIMILARITY COMPLEX!
Mum, Dad and (unfortunately)me.
The day of School farewell programme.
I had a test at some tuitions and so entered home quite late,say about eight. Mum immediately made a beeline towards me.
"How was it?Why are so this late?Did you have a proper lunch?" she asked. Michael Scumacher would have been so envious of her. He just drove fast.
"Good.Math test at sir's.I did." I, ofcourse, am used to it.
"Go take a shower and change, i'll fix u something to eat.", she said.
"Right."
I had my fill of tiffin complemeted by dry cake. Oh, did i mention that my mum had prepared a mixture and entrusted it in my hands because of my enthusiasm regarding cakes after reading a blog? She had instructed me to put it in the oven for a certain time and at a certain temperature and the stuff would come out in the form of a cake. I was probably not listening because T2 always has such lively comic strips. I think I confused the temperature with the time or maybe something completely different because what came out from the over looked like toast. i proudly went up to mum and told her i had made "dry cake". She was so proud that she said i had to be the first one to taste it. And so i did. It was(gulp!) interesting,yes.
And after that i sat on the middle of the bed with all the pages of the newspaper strewn around me. It always helps to get the most important news first-like how many goals rooney scored, and whether Leo Dicaprio was signing any new films. I suddenly noticed my dad eyeing me speculatively. I had an uneasy feeling.
My mum walked in and looked me straight in the eye.
"Rick, I have something to ask you."she said in a tone which made me wish i was anywhere else at that moment.
"Yes?" i said trying to sound grown up.I was wearing my oldest brown jumber with a big goofy flashing a toothy grin, trust me it was difficult to.
My dad smiled at me from the corner of the room. The feeling of unease was growing by the second.
"Who is your girlfriend? You arent getting up to anything improper are you?" she asked raising her eyebrows. i knew that my mum's vocabulary was a bit weak but really a word like preamble should be present in any vocabulary. Her fault.
"i-er-what? No!" i splutered indignantly.
"C'mon son, you can tell your dad everything!", offered my dad.
I immediately changed my stance.
"Course not. i havent got time for all this" i said a bit too cavalierly.
"Oh really?" said my dad, raising his eyebrows. Incidentally, both my mum and dad are highly accomplished eye brow raisers.
I saw my mum biting the insides of her cheek to prevent herself from laughing.
i went purple.I dont generally change colour but there was just something about the way they were looking at me. There is this thing about my parents that always make me feel like a chipmunk in front of them.
"Whats up folks? Why this question, all of a sudden?", I asked, frowning, trying to sound bored.
"No, i took your phone to make a call and found a most interesting sms that someone sent you. That piqued my interest and i just peeked into your inbox and..." she let the question hang.
My mind began to work overtime. What was in there? some stuff about music, tuition timings and...damn! Raktima had chosen that very day to tease me about well,someone and those SMS'es that monosij sent. Gosh! they couldnt have timed it worse!
"And so? There wasnt anything in there that suggested-"
"No, this was a complete shot in the dark." said my mum, rolling her eyes and playing with my mobile.
My dad couldnt take it any longer and began laughing. My face turned a fine shade of magenta. But i still maintained a straight face.
"Its sad Ma(i had switched from 'mum' mode to 'ma' mode) because you'r shot didnt hit the mark." i said with gritted teeth.
"Whats the name, anyway?" asked my dad, enjoying himself.
I decided to play it smart. I rattled of the names of all girls i know, dont know, want to know, don't want to know and even made up some. It amounted to 60.
"Take your pick." i finished.
I won that round. Both of them looked slightly bemused.But they recovered soon enough and with renewed vigour.
"Look son," began my dad,"i know you have grown up but..." and he lectured me about life, priorities, malicious people, opportunity, time, et cetra.
Mum just smirked throughout the lecture inspite of the mutinous looks that i threw at her. Whats up with them? They wind me up more than my friends do!
But she wasnt finished. She looked at me with an expression highly reminiscent of Chandralekha aunty, nose slightly turned up, eyes narrowed, corner of the lip twitching and a condescending tone and said what has become her trademark dialogue.
"i am your mum."
i went out grumbling. And then i came back grumbling.
"You really should give me some privacy,you know." i said accusingly. Ok,ok there was a pleading tone too.
Mum perused me thoughtfully and then murmured,"Fine."
I thought i heard wrong and blurted,"Er what?"
"I said, fine!"
"Oh!" i said,"yes ofcourse it is."
I was about to turn back when dad called again.
"Who sent the jokes?" he asked, smiling.
I didnt go purple, honestly. Just a subtle shade of light blue.
"Er, friend." i managed.
"Fine, go." he said.
I am considering bottling up the exquisite shades i turned and sell them. Anyone interested? 'Eau-de-mortification'. 50 bucks,no bargain.
I had a test at some tuitions and so entered home quite late,say about eight. Mum immediately made a beeline towards me.
"How was it?Why are so this late?Did you have a proper lunch?" she asked. Michael Scumacher would have been so envious of her. He just drove fast.
"Good.Math test at sir's.I did." I, ofcourse, am used to it.
"Go take a shower and change, i'll fix u something to eat.", she said.
"Right."
I had my fill of tiffin complemeted by dry cake. Oh, did i mention that my mum had prepared a mixture and entrusted it in my hands because of my enthusiasm regarding cakes after reading a blog? She had instructed me to put it in the oven for a certain time and at a certain temperature and the stuff would come out in the form of a cake. I was probably not listening because T2 always has such lively comic strips. I think I confused the temperature with the time or maybe something completely different because what came out from the over looked like toast. i proudly went up to mum and told her i had made "dry cake". She was so proud that she said i had to be the first one to taste it. And so i did. It was(gulp!) interesting,yes.
And after that i sat on the middle of the bed with all the pages of the newspaper strewn around me. It always helps to get the most important news first-like how many goals rooney scored, and whether Leo Dicaprio was signing any new films. I suddenly noticed my dad eyeing me speculatively. I had an uneasy feeling.
My mum walked in and looked me straight in the eye.
"Rick, I have something to ask you."she said in a tone which made me wish i was anywhere else at that moment.
"Yes?" i said trying to sound grown up.I was wearing my oldest brown jumber with a big goofy flashing a toothy grin, trust me it was difficult to.
My dad smiled at me from the corner of the room. The feeling of unease was growing by the second.
"Who is your girlfriend? You arent getting up to anything improper are you?" she asked raising her eyebrows. i knew that my mum's vocabulary was a bit weak but really a word like preamble should be present in any vocabulary. Her fault.
"i-er-what? No!" i splutered indignantly.
"C'mon son, you can tell your dad everything!", offered my dad.
I immediately changed my stance.
"Course not. i havent got time for all this" i said a bit too cavalierly.
"Oh really?" said my dad, raising his eyebrows. Incidentally, both my mum and dad are highly accomplished eye brow raisers.
I saw my mum biting the insides of her cheek to prevent herself from laughing.
i went purple.I dont generally change colour but there was just something about the way they were looking at me. There is this thing about my parents that always make me feel like a chipmunk in front of them.
"Whats up folks? Why this question, all of a sudden?", I asked, frowning, trying to sound bored.
"No, i took your phone to make a call and found a most interesting sms that someone sent you. That piqued my interest and i just peeked into your inbox and..." she let the question hang.
My mind began to work overtime. What was in there? some stuff about music, tuition timings and...damn! Raktima had chosen that very day to tease me about well,someone and those SMS'es that monosij sent. Gosh! they couldnt have timed it worse!
"And so? There wasnt anything in there that suggested-"
"No, this was a complete shot in the dark." said my mum, rolling her eyes and playing with my mobile.
My dad couldnt take it any longer and began laughing. My face turned a fine shade of magenta. But i still maintained a straight face.
"Its sad Ma(i had switched from 'mum' mode to 'ma' mode) because you'r shot didnt hit the mark." i said with gritted teeth.
"Whats the name, anyway?" asked my dad, enjoying himself.
I decided to play it smart. I rattled of the names of all girls i know, dont know, want to know, don't want to know and even made up some. It amounted to 60.
"Take your pick." i finished.
I won that round. Both of them looked slightly bemused.But they recovered soon enough and with renewed vigour.
"Look son," began my dad,"i know you have grown up but..." and he lectured me about life, priorities, malicious people, opportunity, time, et cetra.
Mum just smirked throughout the lecture inspite of the mutinous looks that i threw at her. Whats up with them? They wind me up more than my friends do!
But she wasnt finished. She looked at me with an expression highly reminiscent of Chandralekha aunty, nose slightly turned up, eyes narrowed, corner of the lip twitching and a condescending tone and said what has become her trademark dialogue.
"i am your mum."
i went out grumbling. And then i came back grumbling.
"You really should give me some privacy,you know." i said accusingly. Ok,ok there was a pleading tone too.
Mum perused me thoughtfully and then murmured,"Fine."
I thought i heard wrong and blurted,"Er what?"
"I said, fine!"
"Oh!" i said,"yes ofcourse it is."
I was about to turn back when dad called again.
"Who sent the jokes?" he asked, smiling.
I didnt go purple, honestly. Just a subtle shade of light blue.
"Er, friend." i managed.
"Fine, go." he said.
I am considering bottling up the exquisite shades i turned and sell them. Anyone interested? 'Eau-de-mortification'. 50 bucks,no bargain.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
My Life goes on.(not that i didnt expect it to. It just does.)
6th december. Borjatri of a brother who is relation to me is so complicated that i wont bother explaining.
We boarded the bus at around 12noon at Lake Town. The bus cleared the boundaries of Kolkata within 15 minutes, a remarkable feat considering the bus once carried Mahatma Gandhi.A small placard said so.
But the racket created when 15 bengali auntys congregate is truly something to behold, i found out yet again. And when as many uncles decide to join then well, i gently put the earphone in my ears and got lost in Pink Floyd.
My mother shot some meaningful glances at me. I understood that since it was the bus so she had restricted herself to glances and she wanted me to socialise. I thought i'll tell her someday that i could talk to her like psychics, just eyes, no words.
With a heavy heart i joined them. The person whose age was closest to me was snoozing lightly in his mothers arms so i didnt have any great excuse of private talks to make my escape. Pity.
I was rather surprised when i caught someone talking about results, disturbing my concentration at the crucial point when i was about to conclude my thesis on the erratic behaviour of the baby's little finger. The topic had turned to results. I smiled at them all just as someone asked me about my result. i was about to enthrall the audience with a detailed account of my physical science paper when my mum said" He did okey for a change.".I shot her a withering look. I dont know if she caught that look or not but the next second she said something and my hear sank faster than Titanic.
"His Life Science is pa..." She began.
I desperately looked around for ideas to avoid her finishing the sentence. My eyes fell on the baby now awake and looking at my with interest.I also looked at him with interest. And then i pinched him.
At once he cried out loudly, loud enough to disrupt the conversation that was heading towards dismal topics. I immediately took him from his mother and made a racket trying to calm him but in reality hoping to do the reverse. i thought about trying to fling him in the air, that always cheered up babies but decided otherwise. The bus was moving at around 60km and although i trusted newton implicitly i didnt feel like testing inertia of motion on that baby. And then there was the complication of his mother who woudnt be too pleased if inertia of motion didnt work out.
Melodramatic, i know but it did have the desired effect. When i checked again, they were talking about Buddhadeb Bhattachargee's idiosyncrasies.
2 o'clock. Additional company.
I was jolted awake. I looked up from the seat, glad to see a number of cousins climbing up. Some company at last. Along with them boarded a certain number of merry folks who looked like they could make this journey eventful. Within the hour someone came up with the phenomenal idea of singing and dancing. I sank lower into the seat.My mum looked at my seat and frowned not seeing my head. She considered it a personal insult if her son didnt participate in the proceedings. My feelings are methodically ignored and obliviously trampled upon.
Anyway while i stuffed the earphones and congratulated myself on avoiding detection my little cousin brother jumped up on my lap and began singing. I couldnt hear because David Gilmore was playing the guitar exceptionally well just then.So i patted him.
His singing attracted "a mama". I say "a mama" because my dad called him "mama". He couldnt give me a particularly satisfactory reply when i asked him how was he related to me, so i settled for "mama" too.
"Reek! come here and dance!" he said as if thats what i had been begging him to let me do that for the past fortnight.
I was still quite deaf so i nodded and smiled idly. he apparently took that for assent and pulled me out of my seat and made me stand in the middle of well, everything.
I realised my mistake too late. I will never forgive Pink floyd.
"Rick dada, dance!" said my evil young cousin
"Yes Rick, I have heard that you dance well! Show us!" said a complete stranger.i looked at him suspiciously, where did HE learn such blasphemy?
"Misinformation" i said."i cant dance"
"Oh c'mon, dont be such a wimp" said my trigger happy cousin holding a camera. My fingers were itching to shoot him and not with a camera either.
"Then how about a song? You used to sing before." said my cousin with an innocent face. I saw through it right away. It wasnt innocent enough.
"I dont. used to,yes."
"i dont know, You have to do something!" said my gran's sister, finally showing her true colours. My mum smiled at me encouragingly. I looked around hopelessly for some bright idea but none came in that hour of brightness.
What followed was well,...i leave it to your imagination.
We boarded the bus at around 12noon at Lake Town. The bus cleared the boundaries of Kolkata within 15 minutes, a remarkable feat considering the bus once carried Mahatma Gandhi.A small placard said so.
But the racket created when 15 bengali auntys congregate is truly something to behold, i found out yet again. And when as many uncles decide to join then well, i gently put the earphone in my ears and got lost in Pink Floyd.
My mother shot some meaningful glances at me. I understood that since it was the bus so she had restricted herself to glances and she wanted me to socialise. I thought i'll tell her someday that i could talk to her like psychics, just eyes, no words.
With a heavy heart i joined them. The person whose age was closest to me was snoozing lightly in his mothers arms so i didnt have any great excuse of private talks to make my escape. Pity.
I was rather surprised when i caught someone talking about results, disturbing my concentration at the crucial point when i was about to conclude my thesis on the erratic behaviour of the baby's little finger. The topic had turned to results. I smiled at them all just as someone asked me about my result. i was about to enthrall the audience with a detailed account of my physical science paper when my mum said" He did okey for a change.".I shot her a withering look. I dont know if she caught that look or not but the next second she said something and my hear sank faster than Titanic.
"His Life Science is pa..." She began.
I desperately looked around for ideas to avoid her finishing the sentence. My eyes fell on the baby now awake and looking at my with interest.I also looked at him with interest. And then i pinched him.
At once he cried out loudly, loud enough to disrupt the conversation that was heading towards dismal topics. I immediately took him from his mother and made a racket trying to calm him but in reality hoping to do the reverse. i thought about trying to fling him in the air, that always cheered up babies but decided otherwise. The bus was moving at around 60km and although i trusted newton implicitly i didnt feel like testing inertia of motion on that baby. And then there was the complication of his mother who woudnt be too pleased if inertia of motion didnt work out.
Melodramatic, i know but it did have the desired effect. When i checked again, they were talking about Buddhadeb Bhattachargee's idiosyncrasies.
2 o'clock. Additional company.
I was jolted awake. I looked up from the seat, glad to see a number of cousins climbing up. Some company at last. Along with them boarded a certain number of merry folks who looked like they could make this journey eventful. Within the hour someone came up with the phenomenal idea of singing and dancing. I sank lower into the seat.My mum looked at my seat and frowned not seeing my head. She considered it a personal insult if her son didnt participate in the proceedings. My feelings are methodically ignored and obliviously trampled upon.
Anyway while i stuffed the earphones and congratulated myself on avoiding detection my little cousin brother jumped up on my lap and began singing. I couldnt hear because David Gilmore was playing the guitar exceptionally well just then.So i patted him.
His singing attracted "a mama". I say "a mama" because my dad called him "mama". He couldnt give me a particularly satisfactory reply when i asked him how was he related to me, so i settled for "mama" too.
"Reek! come here and dance!" he said as if thats what i had been begging him to let me do that for the past fortnight.
I was still quite deaf so i nodded and smiled idly. he apparently took that for assent and pulled me out of my seat and made me stand in the middle of well, everything.
I realised my mistake too late. I will never forgive Pink floyd.
"Rick dada, dance!" said my evil young cousin
"Yes Rick, I have heard that you dance well! Show us!" said a complete stranger.i looked at him suspiciously, where did HE learn such blasphemy?
"Misinformation" i said."i cant dance"
"Oh c'mon, dont be such a wimp" said my trigger happy cousin holding a camera. My fingers were itching to shoot him and not with a camera either.
"Then how about a song? You used to sing before." said my cousin with an innocent face. I saw through it right away. It wasnt innocent enough.
"I dont. used to,yes."
"i dont know, You have to do something!" said my gran's sister, finally showing her true colours. My mum smiled at me encouragingly. I looked around hopelessly for some bright idea but none came in that hour of brightness.
What followed was well,...i leave it to your imagination.
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