August 16, 1939
My Furher,
Hail Germany! Hail Hitler!
As per your wishes, I gained an audience with Herr Otto Hahn and Herr Fritz Strassmann. Their experiments with the Uranium have shown that it exudes considerable amount of energy. It further decays into two substances which are unidentified as yet, however, a certain Physicist Lise Meitner, who had ran away from our great country and was a former colleague of Herr Hahn claims that one of these new substances is half the mass of Uranium. But this substance cannot be utilized further.
I have checked the results of Herr Hahn and Herr Strassman and found them relatively correct. However, I consider it pragmatic to conduct further tests, so as to confirm if this particular substance can be put to the use of military or not.
I am waiting for your command, my furher.
Hail Hitler!
Your humble subject,
Dr. Werner Heisenberg
*
September 25, 1939
Herr Heisenberg,
Victory to Germany!
As you know that Germany declared war on Poland on September 1, this is our time to regain the lost glory of our great country. I wish this battle to be as swift as lightening and destroy the enemy. This war, is keeping me from most of the affairs of the state and I do not expect to be freed soon enough.
Meanwhile, although I may not be able to go through all the briefings of your research, I highly appreciate your work and your spirit towards our country. I suggest you get in touch with Herr Himmler who can guide your project and see to it that you do not fall prey to lack of resources.
Adolf Hitler
*
October 10, 1939
My Furher,
Hail Hitler!
Many congratulations on your astounding success in blitzkrieg. May Germany continue winning the world under your leadership. I have with the support of Herr Himmler and his influence in the Wehrmacht convinced Army Physicist Kurt Diebner to investigate the military applications of nuclear fission. There’s a dedicated team of enthusiastic and patriotic scientists and engineers working for what would be the greatest achievement in the military history of the world.
I hope to achieve spectacular results soon and present them to you, my Furher.
Hail Hitler!
Yours sincerely
Dr. Werner Heisenberg
*
December 12, 1939
My Furher,
Victory to Germany
I have finally discovered the shrouded secrets hidden beneath the stratums of this magical element. This element is truly magical in nature. We can explore new horizons of science and military advancement with Uranium.
Furher, Uranium emits a particle which when striking other adjacent atom of Uranium triggers three more such particles and enormous amounts of energy. While triggering this particle the parent element of Uranium itself gets converted to another element as I had mentioned in my earlier letter to you. This reaction is actually a chain reaction – each particle triggering three more particles and then 9 more. When these reactions are slowed down and are kept under control inside a ‘Uranium Machine’ they can be used for production of massive amounts of energy.
But if the same reaction is rendered uncontrolled then the amount of energy exuded shall be enormous – much more than any conventional explosive. And therein, my Furher, lies the true victory of the Third Reich – umbrageous, moral – complete.
I urge you to consider the enormous possibilities of this weapon, sire.
Yours Sincerely
Dr. Werner Heisenberg
*
January 9, 1940
My Furher,
Hail Hitler!
We have stumbled across some special requirements for the usage of Uranium as a military weapon. It seems that this element exists as an isotope: Uranium -235 & 238. Of these two, U-238 can be used along with U-235 in the Uranium Machine while only U-235 can be utilized in the form of a weapon. As it happens, this U-235 is a rare material.
As of now, we do not have sufficient enough inventory of this U-235 to build a weapon. However, we can manufacture significant amounts of U-235 by isotope separation.
I have started doing experiments on the technology required to segregate the required material. I hope to get a break through very soon and present you and my great country what would be my greatest contribution.
Victory to Germany
Your Humble Subject
Dr. Werner Heisenberg
*
June 14, 1940
My Furher,
Hail Hitler!
As stated in my previous communication, I have been trying to generate through new technologies, significant amounts of U-235. Here, a team lead by Herr Paul Harteck has been trying to thermally diffuse the Uranium.
In this process, a liquid compound rises as it is heated and settles down on cooling. As it cools and settles it tends to settle down separating into its lighter and heavier components as it cycles around the column. We have already achieved significant amounts based on this method but we are still trying to refine the method.
At the same time, we have been conducting operations and experiments over various other processes that can be used to extract energy from this element. I seek your blessings for all my endeavours.
Hail Hitler!
Yours Sincerely
Dr. Werner Heisenberg
*
December 12, 1940
My Furher,
Hail Hitler!
Accept my congratulations for successfully signing the Tripartite (Axis) Pact with Italy and Japan. The mood in my team and lab is upbeat with all your growing successes. Under your able leadership, my Furher, we will win the English and subsequently the entire Europe.
Despite some setbacks here at the lab here, the work is going on at an andantino pace. We have discarded the idea of ‘enriching’ Uranium by thermal diffusion and are now working on a rather new centrifugal method. The machine used for this purpose is called a centrifuge and relies on centripetal force to accumulate the heavier isotopes on the outside of the tube where they can be separated out. We hope to achieve the required amount of Uranium faster by this method.
Meanwhile, we are also assessing the use of heavy water (oxygen combined with a rare heavy isotope of hydrogen) as a moderator that slows down the neutrons just enough to sustain the chain reaction. I happen to hear from my Italian friends that in their national laboratory, the Italians are working on a similar technology. And thus, I have this humble request to you, my Furher, to include us in your ambitious plans for our great country and let us reap the benefit of technology exchange.
Hail Hitler!
Your humble subject
Dr. Werner Heisenberg
*
January 19, 1941
Herr Heisenberg
Victory to Germany!
I am delighted by your progress and your grand designs for the progress of country’s science and technology. However, believing that you are following the news about our ‘expansion’ policy, you might as well have reached the conclusion that we are going to do well, even in absence of your Uranium weapons.
The Bundeswehr is working closely with Herr Von Braun and is quite impressed with the results that they have achieved so far. My generals tell me that we’ll soon be able to achieve magnanimous range and speed with their rockets. With them, Germany will become truly invincible.
I, however, commend your spirit of working and wish you all the success with your program.
Adolf Hitler
*
December 5, 1942
Herr Heisenberg
As you must have known by now that our army is facing severe counter-offensive at the east end. We require all the possible resources that we can get our hands at now. Update me on the status of your progress in your project. Abwehr’s latest report indicates that the Americans have successfully built some machine to sustain the reaction of the bomb. We cannot afford to waste any more time now. If there are any resources that you want dedicated to your consideration, communicate for them and they shall be placed at your disposal immediately.
Adolf Hitler
*
December 10, 1942
My Furher,
Hail Hitler!
I, with my team, have conceptualized all the details of the weapon in principle. With reference to my previous demands, we however are still facing some technical glitches. I hoped for gaining some assistance from the Norwegian Norsk Hydro Plant but unfortunately, that has already been destroyed in allied bombing.
We have accelerated the efforts here in order to prove helpful to our Wehrmacht. I assure you that given sufficient time and the technical resources required we will achieve significant results.
Your humble subject
Dr. Werner Heisenberg
*
Author's Note:
- Hitler did not use (or made) an atom bomb, although there have been reports of “two huge explosions” one night of March, 1945. The people living nearby had reported to be suffering from nose-bleeds, nausea, fatigue and head ache symptoms for long time. There’s no assurance – was it a nuclear bomb or a ‘dirty’ bomb.
- According to some conspiracy theories, Hitler did not commit suicide on April 30, 1945 but was secretly shipped off to South America where he was seen by ‘many’ to be living by the coast line of Brazil.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Friday, November 5, 2010
The Little Bride
He had brought a book to his farewell party and stayed immersed in it deeply, until the party ended. It was when his parents called him for going home, that I heard the voice of glass. She looked not a day older than 16. Her red bangles jingled against each other causing a tiny pandemonium around her hand. She was apparently, unaware of this sound that had caused me to leave Unaccustomed Earth. A young girl held her hand behind her, perhaps her sister. They were looking for a seat in the empty wagon. The station was noisy and I was peacefully reading; her bangles disturbed my concentration.
She sat in front of me with her bag on her lap, the young girl still clinging to her hand. I stole curious glances to observe her wondering why she had chosen that place. She was in traditional Tamil attire - a conservatively draped saree, with a broad golden border. It was a fine work of golden thread, an art the name of which I will not remember even after a life time. The saree was peach coloured with designs in black and red alongside. The blouse was carefully kept out of view for any observation. Her hair was parted in the middle, marked by a spot of vermillion that was neither too thick, nor too thin. In one hand she had worn red noisy bangles and the other was adorned by a golden watch. She had worn a mangalsutra around her neck alongside one glittering golden necklace.
They both giggled giving me an impression as if she had read my mind and had chosen the place only to disturb me. Yet her smile was disarming, giving her an aura of carelessness. Playfully, she kept fidgeting with her necklace, twirling it along the length. I wanted to go and bang her head with my book and cry in her ear – don’t you know, they have trapped you for life and concealed your way to a dark tunnel at the end of which is the same end for everyone. How could she be married and yet so happy, when I quiver even by the thought of something that is still far away. That mangalsutra should have strangled her crushing her breaths that would eventually stop. Her bangles were not making her opulent for anyone except her husband who was given freedom to do anything and yet her hands were stringed to an invisible remote. I knew, at that moment that I hated her not for her smile, not for her carefree laughter that filled the compartment of the train, not for the chocolaty henna on her pale palms but for her very existence, that she had entered my thoughts perforating them to the last layer.
I felt my cheeks go red, burning with unexplainable bout of jealousy and I returned to the book, determined not to look up.
With the passing stations, I felt my frustration slowly getting fluid – to sympathy for my own being. A new surge of anger was building within me for being indecisive on my feelings, absence of focussed anger; I wanted it so much.
I kept stealing glances once in a while, observing the movement of her hands as she smoothed her hair, straightened her pallu, much to my chagrin. She knew that I was watching, I could feel her gaze from the corner of her eyes. The stations went by, time did not.
The monotony of the movement – halt of the train was broken when they stepped in the compartment. Three boys, laughing, drunk in the elixir of youth trampled their way over an old woman hawker’s crate of ground nuts. The seats were still vacant while they chose to search for them. One of the boys, saw the girls and ribbed the others pointing. They came near me, and sat down.
They reeked of alcohol, and the girls were repulsed by the stench. I, of course, stayed unmoved; any signs of unwanted behaviour would fetch ungodly activities on me in this state.
The one who sat near me stared at the young bride unabashedly. The girls were looking down, out of the window and the laughter, smiles had disappeared. The boys were in playful mood, one stared at my Unaccustomed Earth and asked, “Yenna book, sir? Plus 2aaaa?” He added extra ‘aaa’ syllable in Tamil vernacular to clarify that he was actually asking a question to me.
“Ille”, I replied, “Novel irke”, amazed at myself; could I still pass for a 12th class student. Just before I started congratulating myself I realized that he must have thought of me as a young teacher, preparing his lecture for the day so that boys don’t ridicule him in mid class, jeering. I realized it was just a ploy to incline more towards the girls. They were using complex Tamil, way beyond my comprehension now. I decided not to pay any attention not wanting to tell them that I was a Hindi speaker although I was sure to have given away already by my accent. Their laughter was shrill, piercing my ears, my concentration already bungled.
I was staring blankly at the black printing turning pages when one of them tried to make a move towards the bride. I caught the hand in the middle, surprised at my own boldness. The other one tried to get up and I pushed him back by my other hand. He almost went tumbling down from the seat. I got up to handle the other two if they tried to get up, my book fell down.
A hawker cried something about his cookies at a distance and I realized that they were laughing, all three. My book was lying on the floor, I looked up only to find the guys indifferent joking amongst themselves. My valour was wasted; the girls were busy giggling busy in their small world. One of the boys offered me a cookie, from the hawker. I declined politely, shaking my head and getting up.
My station had come.
She sat in front of me with her bag on her lap, the young girl still clinging to her hand. I stole curious glances to observe her wondering why she had chosen that place. She was in traditional Tamil attire - a conservatively draped saree, with a broad golden border. It was a fine work of golden thread, an art the name of which I will not remember even after a life time. The saree was peach coloured with designs in black and red alongside. The blouse was carefully kept out of view for any observation. Her hair was parted in the middle, marked by a spot of vermillion that was neither too thick, nor too thin. In one hand she had worn red noisy bangles and the other was adorned by a golden watch. She had worn a mangalsutra around her neck alongside one glittering golden necklace.
They both giggled giving me an impression as if she had read my mind and had chosen the place only to disturb me. Yet her smile was disarming, giving her an aura of carelessness. Playfully, she kept fidgeting with her necklace, twirling it along the length. I wanted to go and bang her head with my book and cry in her ear – don’t you know, they have trapped you for life and concealed your way to a dark tunnel at the end of which is the same end for everyone. How could she be married and yet so happy, when I quiver even by the thought of something that is still far away. That mangalsutra should have strangled her crushing her breaths that would eventually stop. Her bangles were not making her opulent for anyone except her husband who was given freedom to do anything and yet her hands were stringed to an invisible remote. I knew, at that moment that I hated her not for her smile, not for her carefree laughter that filled the compartment of the train, not for the chocolaty henna on her pale palms but for her very existence, that she had entered my thoughts perforating them to the last layer.
I felt my cheeks go red, burning with unexplainable bout of jealousy and I returned to the book, determined not to look up.
With the passing stations, I felt my frustration slowly getting fluid – to sympathy for my own being. A new surge of anger was building within me for being indecisive on my feelings, absence of focussed anger; I wanted it so much.
I kept stealing glances once in a while, observing the movement of her hands as she smoothed her hair, straightened her pallu, much to my chagrin. She knew that I was watching, I could feel her gaze from the corner of her eyes. The stations went by, time did not.
The monotony of the movement – halt of the train was broken when they stepped in the compartment. Three boys, laughing, drunk in the elixir of youth trampled their way over an old woman hawker’s crate of ground nuts. The seats were still vacant while they chose to search for them. One of the boys, saw the girls and ribbed the others pointing. They came near me, and sat down.
They reeked of alcohol, and the girls were repulsed by the stench. I, of course, stayed unmoved; any signs of unwanted behaviour would fetch ungodly activities on me in this state.
The one who sat near me stared at the young bride unabashedly. The girls were looking down, out of the window and the laughter, smiles had disappeared. The boys were in playful mood, one stared at my Unaccustomed Earth and asked, “Yenna book, sir? Plus 2aaaa?” He added extra ‘aaa’ syllable in Tamil vernacular to clarify that he was actually asking a question to me.
“Ille”, I replied, “Novel irke”, amazed at myself; could I still pass for a 12th class student. Just before I started congratulating myself I realized that he must have thought of me as a young teacher, preparing his lecture for the day so that boys don’t ridicule him in mid class, jeering. I realized it was just a ploy to incline more towards the girls. They were using complex Tamil, way beyond my comprehension now. I decided not to pay any attention not wanting to tell them that I was a Hindi speaker although I was sure to have given away already by my accent. Their laughter was shrill, piercing my ears, my concentration already bungled.
I was staring blankly at the black printing turning pages when one of them tried to make a move towards the bride. I caught the hand in the middle, surprised at my own boldness. The other one tried to get up and I pushed him back by my other hand. He almost went tumbling down from the seat. I got up to handle the other two if they tried to get up, my book fell down.
A hawker cried something about his cookies at a distance and I realized that they were laughing, all three. My book was lying on the floor, I looked up only to find the guys indifferent joking amongst themselves. My valour was wasted; the girls were busy giggling busy in their small world. One of the boys offered me a cookie, from the hawker. I declined politely, shaking my head and getting up.
My station had come.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Main Azaad Hoon
J&K: We want azadi, Indian dogs go back…
Maharashtra(irritated): Tichya aaila, another one! Don’t you have something good to do?
J&K (ignoring): We don’t want you…we want freedom! Indian dogs go back…
UP: Yeh kya bhaau??? Another target today for you? What’s happening here?
J&K: We don’t want to talk to you; we will talk to Dilli only!
UP: Aila, this much tashan??? Are you listening bhaau? Arre o Dada, Bihari bhaiya, Anna(s), Praji, Daju, come here all of you…Oh Chinkis, what are you doing there in the east, you come here too, at once…
Tamil Nadu: Yenna sollran? (What are you saying? {They don’t know Hindi})
Bihar (to Tamil): Eee saala…Angrezi speak, bhau, you tell…
Maharashtra (laughing): Speak English, yenna Rascala…
Gradually everyone is gathering – Praji, Daju, Chinkis and Bana too...
Punjab: Oh, what happened praji? Why are you shouting slogans?
J&K: Aren’t you aware of the cruelty that is being inflicted upon us? They hit us with rifle butts, kick us, slap us, humiliate when they want…
Daju: Really? Who does that?
J&K: What has happened to you, don’t you read you the newspaper? Your forces are killing us under their boots daily.
Chinkis (All together, laughing): Welcome to the world dude…
Andhra Pradesh: So what’s new in that? We are also killed by CRPF battalions almost daily, fakely encountered…
UP: Aur kya, you have not met our policewallahs! Once you meet them, voila…
Andhra: Yeah, you know, Delhi has painted us red, everyone thinks that we are ‘Naxalied’. I mean, come on, we have Hyderabad too…
Karnataka: Learn from me dude, all that I am is Bengaluru, or may be some times Mysore or Mangalore too…all perfect models of development!
Maharashtra: Oh, so does that mean that we can count Bellary as ours???
Karnataka: No, no, that’s not what I meant…
J&K (intervenes): Stop it…you guys are trivializing my struggle for independence!
Punjab: Independence? Dhheere bol bhai…If dilli hears this na, none would be spared. You know what they did to me…
North East: They did the same to us, they have always…
(As always the voice trails off into oblivion and is ignored)
Bihar: And what’s more, you are the special child, most favored? What is it called UP Bhaiya – 370…something?
UP: Batao, and they don’t give us even a single penny, say that we are corrupt…None of the money reaches the poor. I am telling you, if you want the money to reach poor, than give us more money…
Bihar: They never even look at me, whosoever is governing…we are always sidelined, and you want independence…Humko dekho, we are independent!
J&K: Have you ever been woken in the middle of the night? Have can you ever see your entire family being butchered in one moment only…you cannot…you cannot imagine, what it feels like.
Madhya Pradesh: Oh, this is really inhuman. How can they do this?
Rajasthan: Abbe chhup, even your aid will stop…and you (to J&K), stop whining. You are also Indian like us, learn to live with what you have.
J&K: Indian, like you??? Bull shit, we are just a colony for you…not your part, never. If we are also your part then why do you kill us, why shower us with bullets. Why kill innocent defenseless kids?
West Bengal: I agree with you, I am with you in your struggle. Dilli cannot pilfer your resources and turn a blind eye to the people. It’s high time we awaken the people to a Marxist revolution.
Gujarat: O chup oye Dada! See what socialism did to you, Nano comes out of Sanand now, not Singur…
Uttarakhand: And from Pantnagar too…
J&K: I don’t have any interests in your revolution – Marxist or Manmohanist…where is the development anyway? You say we are a part of India, we are a part of Bharat Nirmaan, and they frisk us when they see Kashmir on our IDs, why? Why have you not brought IT to us when half the country basks in its glory, where have you taken our tourists to? Where is the development?
(UP, Bihar, North-East start laughing, Orissa joins)
UP: Dude, have you been to Mirzapur, Etah…
Bihar (cuts in between): Or even, Patna!
J&K: Yes, yes, keep laughing…you have always done that to us!
North-East: Nai boss, honestly, you must send people beyond B’luru, Mumbai and Dilli…rest of the India…(sighs)
J&K: But where are the people to be sent? All the dreams…they are, dreams. The only knocks we heard were of the military. The only parades we witnessed were the military identification parades. The dreams that we dreamt were shattered by the sound of the bullets. The games we played were of life and death…
Tamil Nadu: Do you think that rest of the country does not have problems? Look at the CWG, if only it was to be held in Chennai and not Delhi, we would have shown the world what Tami…Indians are! These north Indians have brought shame to the country.
UP: Saale Anna, khilate kya wahan pe? Idli – Dosa – Sambhar??? Everything is good now with CWG…
Punjab: Yes, Delhi is the best place to hold such event…if the games would have been held in Chennai, all the Goras would have become Kalas and (learnt Tamil)…Blaming North Indians, ruddy are you? All you want to do is to make a separate country…And you (facing Kashmir), you want azadi to go to Pakistan? Never… (fire in the eyes)
J&K: No, azadi for us does not mean merger with Pak! I don’t subscribe to LeT or Hizbul. We don’t want azadi their way…
Madhya Pradesh: Chalo yaar, at least you don’t want to go with Pakistan…those guys are waiting to implode too. But you must understand that such issues cannot be found solution to in streets, by stone pelting…
J&K: Has Dilli, left any other method for us? We have waited 60 years, all you give us is empty promises...There has been a denial on the part of your political set-up to even acknowledge that we are in pain.
Bihar: Empty promises…(Ribs UP) see what happens when the Prime Ministers come from UP.
Tamil Nadu: I am telling you, Thiru Karunanidhi will be the best PM…
UP: Issiliye, that is why, saala you are in south…
Karnataka: I suggest you start protesting on the net, I’ve realized it’s a potent weapon.
J&K: We are doing that too – sending protest letters to your Army, making people aware of our pain, but where is the result? I am, trying to collect my people…I am, ohhh, why don’t you just leave us?
Delhi: But we can’t do that…
J&K: Ohh…finally you are here! So what excuse will you make today?
Delhi: I don’t have excuses, I just talk facts.
UP & Bihar: Chalo, you are here, we can talk of some financial issues too…
Delhi: We’ll talk about that later (frowns), first I want to tell you all that the reporting from J&K has been one sided. They talk of their people being killed, brutalized; but what about those innocent civilians that were killed and are saved only by our Army? What about those pundits who had to leave their homes… What about the massacred Sikhs, what about our killed Jawans?
J&K: And so this gives you a valid reason to kill our children? To force nails in their eyes and ears, aren’t you ashamed of yourself?
(Rajasthan, Gujarat, Maharashtra gasp in horror)
Delhi: I understand your anger. I understand that there are issues…The roads and the rails are yet to reach you even after 60 years. You feel ashamed of being frisked thrice every day. We can do away with some of this, and believe me, we are willing to.
J&K: No, you do not understand yet…we don’t want you, we want azadi.
Delhi: Do you? Let’s see…are you united on this front? Do you all want azadi? Do you all want to pelt stones at me?
Kashmir: Yes…
Delhi: No one’s paying you any money for stone pelting?
(Silence, all look at J&K)
Delhi: Jammu, Ladakh…do you want azad Kashmir or do you want to be a part of the Union of India?
Jammu, Ladakh (look at each other, nod): We are with you…India (collective sigh)
Kashmir: We want azadi…
Delhi: Don’t worry, it’ll come with time…it’s time now for development!
Kashmir: No…
(The spectators fade away, gradually, silently, to their own worlds)
Epilogue
“Sadly there is nothing, absolutely nothing that can bring Showkat back to her (Showkat’s mother). Neither the superpower nation, nor azadi…” – Jaibeer (from Kashmir believes that current crisis has a solution and it is not azadi)
Aayaam’s Note
I’ve tried very hard to step out of my shoes while writing this. I’ve called people names that I would never call them in my life and I apologize for choosing such words, if it hurts anyone.
I was afraid of selecting wrong words for the feelings of Kashmir’s ordinary men and women, and so I have directly quoted some of their feelings of anguish and hatred. I (we) understand your pain and it frustrates me to no end that there’s nothing else that I can do for it, for now…
Maharashtra(irritated): Tichya aaila, another one! Don’t you have something good to do?
J&K (ignoring): We don’t want you…we want freedom! Indian dogs go back…
UP: Yeh kya bhaau??? Another target today for you? What’s happening here?
J&K: We don’t want to talk to you; we will talk to Dilli only!
UP: Aila, this much tashan??? Are you listening bhaau? Arre o Dada, Bihari bhaiya, Anna(s), Praji, Daju, come here all of you…Oh Chinkis, what are you doing there in the east, you come here too, at once…
Tamil Nadu: Yenna sollran? (What are you saying? {They don’t know Hindi})
Bihar (to Tamil): Eee saala…Angrezi speak, bhau, you tell…
Maharashtra (laughing): Speak English, yenna Rascala…
Gradually everyone is gathering – Praji, Daju, Chinkis and Bana too...
Punjab: Oh, what happened praji? Why are you shouting slogans?
J&K: Aren’t you aware of the cruelty that is being inflicted upon us? They hit us with rifle butts, kick us, slap us, humiliate when they want…
Daju: Really? Who does that?
J&K: What has happened to you, don’t you read you the newspaper? Your forces are killing us under their boots daily.
Chinkis (All together, laughing): Welcome to the world dude…
Andhra Pradesh: So what’s new in that? We are also killed by CRPF battalions almost daily, fakely encountered…
UP: Aur kya, you have not met our policewallahs! Once you meet them, voila…
Andhra: Yeah, you know, Delhi has painted us red, everyone thinks that we are ‘Naxalied’. I mean, come on, we have Hyderabad too…
Karnataka: Learn from me dude, all that I am is Bengaluru, or may be some times Mysore or Mangalore too…all perfect models of development!
Maharashtra: Oh, so does that mean that we can count Bellary as ours???
Karnataka: No, no, that’s not what I meant…
J&K (intervenes): Stop it…you guys are trivializing my struggle for independence!
Punjab: Independence? Dhheere bol bhai…If dilli hears this na, none would be spared. You know what they did to me…
North East: They did the same to us, they have always…
(As always the voice trails off into oblivion and is ignored)
Bihar: And what’s more, you are the special child, most favored? What is it called UP Bhaiya – 370…something?
UP: Batao, and they don’t give us even a single penny, say that we are corrupt…None of the money reaches the poor. I am telling you, if you want the money to reach poor, than give us more money…
Bihar: They never even look at me, whosoever is governing…we are always sidelined, and you want independence…Humko dekho, we are independent!
J&K: Have you ever been woken in the middle of the night? Have can you ever see your entire family being butchered in one moment only…you cannot…you cannot imagine, what it feels like.
Madhya Pradesh: Oh, this is really inhuman. How can they do this?
Rajasthan: Abbe chhup, even your aid will stop…and you (to J&K), stop whining. You are also Indian like us, learn to live with what you have.
J&K: Indian, like you??? Bull shit, we are just a colony for you…not your part, never. If we are also your part then why do you kill us, why shower us with bullets. Why kill innocent defenseless kids?
West Bengal: I agree with you, I am with you in your struggle. Dilli cannot pilfer your resources and turn a blind eye to the people. It’s high time we awaken the people to a Marxist revolution.
Gujarat: O chup oye Dada! See what socialism did to you, Nano comes out of Sanand now, not Singur…
Uttarakhand: And from Pantnagar too…
J&K: I don’t have any interests in your revolution – Marxist or Manmohanist…where is the development anyway? You say we are a part of India, we are a part of Bharat Nirmaan, and they frisk us when they see Kashmir on our IDs, why? Why have you not brought IT to us when half the country basks in its glory, where have you taken our tourists to? Where is the development?
(UP, Bihar, North-East start laughing, Orissa joins)
UP: Dude, have you been to Mirzapur, Etah…
Bihar (cuts in between): Or even, Patna!
J&K: Yes, yes, keep laughing…you have always done that to us!
North-East: Nai boss, honestly, you must send people beyond B’luru, Mumbai and Dilli…rest of the India…(sighs)
J&K: But where are the people to be sent? All the dreams…they are, dreams. The only knocks we heard were of the military. The only parades we witnessed were the military identification parades. The dreams that we dreamt were shattered by the sound of the bullets. The games we played were of life and death…
Tamil Nadu: Do you think that rest of the country does not have problems? Look at the CWG, if only it was to be held in Chennai and not Delhi, we would have shown the world what Tami…Indians are! These north Indians have brought shame to the country.
UP: Saale Anna, khilate kya wahan pe? Idli – Dosa – Sambhar??? Everything is good now with CWG…
Punjab: Yes, Delhi is the best place to hold such event…if the games would have been held in Chennai, all the Goras would have become Kalas and (learnt Tamil)…Blaming North Indians, ruddy are you? All you want to do is to make a separate country…And you (facing Kashmir), you want azadi to go to Pakistan? Never… (fire in the eyes)
J&K: No, azadi for us does not mean merger with Pak! I don’t subscribe to LeT or Hizbul. We don’t want azadi their way…
Madhya Pradesh: Chalo yaar, at least you don’t want to go with Pakistan…those guys are waiting to implode too. But you must understand that such issues cannot be found solution to in streets, by stone pelting…
J&K: Has Dilli, left any other method for us? We have waited 60 years, all you give us is empty promises...There has been a denial on the part of your political set-up to even acknowledge that we are in pain.
Bihar: Empty promises…(Ribs UP) see what happens when the Prime Ministers come from UP.
Tamil Nadu: I am telling you, Thiru Karunanidhi will be the best PM…
UP: Issiliye, that is why, saala you are in south…
Karnataka: I suggest you start protesting on the net, I’ve realized it’s a potent weapon.
J&K: We are doing that too – sending protest letters to your Army, making people aware of our pain, but where is the result? I am, trying to collect my people…I am, ohhh, why don’t you just leave us?
Delhi: But we can’t do that…
J&K: Ohh…finally you are here! So what excuse will you make today?
Delhi: I don’t have excuses, I just talk facts.
UP & Bihar: Chalo, you are here, we can talk of some financial issues too…
Delhi: We’ll talk about that later (frowns), first I want to tell you all that the reporting from J&K has been one sided. They talk of their people being killed, brutalized; but what about those innocent civilians that were killed and are saved only by our Army? What about those pundits who had to leave their homes… What about the massacred Sikhs, what about our killed Jawans?
J&K: And so this gives you a valid reason to kill our children? To force nails in their eyes and ears, aren’t you ashamed of yourself?
(Rajasthan, Gujarat, Maharashtra gasp in horror)
Delhi: I understand your anger. I understand that there are issues…The roads and the rails are yet to reach you even after 60 years. You feel ashamed of being frisked thrice every day. We can do away with some of this, and believe me, we are willing to.
J&K: No, you do not understand yet…we don’t want you, we want azadi.
Delhi: Do you? Let’s see…are you united on this front? Do you all want azadi? Do you all want to pelt stones at me?
Kashmir: Yes…
Delhi: No one’s paying you any money for stone pelting?
(Silence, all look at J&K)
Delhi: Jammu, Ladakh…do you want azad Kashmir or do you want to be a part of the Union of India?
Jammu, Ladakh (look at each other, nod): We are with you…India (collective sigh)
Kashmir: We want azadi…
Delhi: Don’t worry, it’ll come with time…it’s time now for development!
Kashmir: No…
(The spectators fade away, gradually, silently, to their own worlds)
Epilogue
“Sadly there is nothing, absolutely nothing that can bring Showkat back to her (Showkat’s mother). Neither the superpower nation, nor azadi…” – Jaibeer (from Kashmir believes that current crisis has a solution and it is not azadi)
Aayaam’s Note
I’ve tried very hard to step out of my shoes while writing this. I’ve called people names that I would never call them in my life and I apologize for choosing such words, if it hurts anyone.
I was afraid of selecting wrong words for the feelings of Kashmir’s ordinary men and women, and so I have directly quoted some of their feelings of anguish and hatred. I (we) understand your pain and it frustrates me to no end that there’s nothing else that I can do for it, for now…
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
The Past of the Future
Recording Log: Text 003
Date: 12 26 3345 Time: 13: 07
Location: P0 - Earth
Under Sea Excavation
South of Sothern Hem Mountain Range
The weather is inhospitable. The mountains are capped with snow and the silence is broken only by icy, nonchalant wind. The sea crushes at the depths and the aqua traversing vehicle makes sounds of pain. This is turning out to be one of the most challenging expeditions ever for me. But this was the legendary land of Meluhas, this is where it all started from; as Grandma tells, this was home once!
There have been some very interesting findings here. Although, in absence of any qualified scientist from the geological and meteorological departments it is difficult to perceive how the changes in the weather occurred. I’ve been trying to find documents (whatever are remaining) regarding changes in the climate here; unsuccessfully yet.
The major discoveries have been in the area just south of the shorter hills, which according to our resources was the base of a major civilization here once. We have found a complex of buildings. There is a stone structure whose rectangular top is visible but is silted at the bottom. After light digging, we found steps of stones receding downwards. It seems an altar for sacrifice. Once the de-silting continued to deeper proportions a steep wall with inscriptions on it was found. Possibly these are the records of the people who were sacrificed here. The script that is used is incomprehensible still. My tablet from the department of ancient languages cannot explain all the symbols in the scriptures. There’s also a dome like structure nearby all covered in coral and sea weed. What the building is exactly shall be known only if the de-silting process is allowed to be done there extensively. I am communicating the requirement for deeper excavations to the PH – Xyne. Until then we’ll remain only on the surface.
Another dome like structure is apparent nearby. This is the only place where sonographic tests have been done and they show the presence of a huge structure underneath. Before we could pull up the apparatus a very strong undercurrent flushed away the equipment. The small 16 TB recording is all that we could get from the place. There is a clear indication of a palace in that zone. Was this civilization a monarchy? If it was than at what time did the idea of republic set in? Was the monarch despotic or did he/she take care of the interest of the people? There are unanswered questions all over…
There are tall structures that have sustained the pressure of water and the flow of undersea currents. The bases are silted with mud and sand. It will take time to remove the silt from the bases and identify the complete structures. I tried to break in using one of the flexible arms of the vehicle but could only reach some couple of meters. The optical wires however showed a pattern of cubical structures amongst the jungle of sea weed and coral. The entire floor is surrounded by windows and there are a couple of rooms also. The windows show the requirement of light at all times which suggests that the utilization of place as a place to read and write. This could be a library or a center for philosophy. We still require a solid proof for that. There are more than one such building juxtaposed to each other. And thus there seem to be multiple complexes of such buildings. Were our ancestors so deeply engrossed in questions concerning philosophy? Or did this civilization spent most of its time reading? If yes, then there appears to be widespread economic sufficiency.
Surprisingly these tall structures have gypsum, silica, calcium carbonate as their composing material. Possibly the buildings made of stone are of another era. The initial L-3 tests show that the stones were put together somewhere in 18th century, but I maintain that L-3 is not reliable especially in salt contaminated samples.
A couple of KE’s from these building complexes, we found an elevated area. The area is relatively clear from the buildings. There stands a stone statue in the center of what I believe to be a Goddess. There seems to be a goddess cult prevalent in the civilization, although, I am surprised by the simplicity of the pantheon. A statue in open surroundings could only be to facilitate mass gatherings around the figure. This figure also echoes my earlier guess of economic sufficiency of the civilization. The idol shows healthy proportions implying the abundance of food and a sufficient civilization. There are also statue figures of an animal of giant proportions lining the way to the cult figure. Possibly this animal was the vehicle of this goddess.
I am yet to find any details of settlements here. Perhaps, their story is sealed much beneath this sand. In absence of a corroborative text, we cannot guess about the social stratification or economic activities either. If PH doesn’t agree to excavate deeper here, perhaps we’ll move northwards in order to explore more of this lost civilization. The synchro-sat diagrams show possibility of abandoned settlements to the north-east of the civilization here.
It has been 36 hours since I last slept. So, until the next excavation and the next entry, signing off…
Arpit Bharat, XII
Sr. Archaeologist
Office of Ancient Planetary History,
PH – Xyne
Glossary
P0 – Planet ZERO (Earth)
PH – Planet Home (Xyne)
L-3 – Element 3 (based test for understanding the life of an object)
KE – Unit for distance (K – Echo)
Date: 12 26 3345 Time: 13: 07
Location: P0 - Earth
Under Sea Excavation
South of Sothern Hem Mountain Range
The weather is inhospitable. The mountains are capped with snow and the silence is broken only by icy, nonchalant wind. The sea crushes at the depths and the aqua traversing vehicle makes sounds of pain. This is turning out to be one of the most challenging expeditions ever for me. But this was the legendary land of Meluhas, this is where it all started from; as Grandma tells, this was home once!
There have been some very interesting findings here. Although, in absence of any qualified scientist from the geological and meteorological departments it is difficult to perceive how the changes in the weather occurred. I’ve been trying to find documents (whatever are remaining) regarding changes in the climate here; unsuccessfully yet.
The major discoveries have been in the area just south of the shorter hills, which according to our resources was the base of a major civilization here once. We have found a complex of buildings. There is a stone structure whose rectangular top is visible but is silted at the bottom. After light digging, we found steps of stones receding downwards. It seems an altar for sacrifice. Once the de-silting continued to deeper proportions a steep wall with inscriptions on it was found. Possibly these are the records of the people who were sacrificed here. The script that is used is incomprehensible still. My tablet from the department of ancient languages cannot explain all the symbols in the scriptures. There’s also a dome like structure nearby all covered in coral and sea weed. What the building is exactly shall be known only if the de-silting process is allowed to be done there extensively. I am communicating the requirement for deeper excavations to the PH – Xyne. Until then we’ll remain only on the surface.
Another dome like structure is apparent nearby. This is the only place where sonographic tests have been done and they show the presence of a huge structure underneath. Before we could pull up the apparatus a very strong undercurrent flushed away the equipment. The small 16 TB recording is all that we could get from the place. There is a clear indication of a palace in that zone. Was this civilization a monarchy? If it was than at what time did the idea of republic set in? Was the monarch despotic or did he/she take care of the interest of the people? There are unanswered questions all over…
There are tall structures that have sustained the pressure of water and the flow of undersea currents. The bases are silted with mud and sand. It will take time to remove the silt from the bases and identify the complete structures. I tried to break in using one of the flexible arms of the vehicle but could only reach some couple of meters. The optical wires however showed a pattern of cubical structures amongst the jungle of sea weed and coral. The entire floor is surrounded by windows and there are a couple of rooms also. The windows show the requirement of light at all times which suggests that the utilization of place as a place to read and write. This could be a library or a center for philosophy. We still require a solid proof for that. There are more than one such building juxtaposed to each other. And thus there seem to be multiple complexes of such buildings. Were our ancestors so deeply engrossed in questions concerning philosophy? Or did this civilization spent most of its time reading? If yes, then there appears to be widespread economic sufficiency.
Surprisingly these tall structures have gypsum, silica, calcium carbonate as their composing material. Possibly the buildings made of stone are of another era. The initial L-3 tests show that the stones were put together somewhere in 18th century, but I maintain that L-3 is not reliable especially in salt contaminated samples.
A couple of KE’s from these building complexes, we found an elevated area. The area is relatively clear from the buildings. There stands a stone statue in the center of what I believe to be a Goddess. There seems to be a goddess cult prevalent in the civilization, although, I am surprised by the simplicity of the pantheon. A statue in open surroundings could only be to facilitate mass gatherings around the figure. This figure also echoes my earlier guess of economic sufficiency of the civilization. The idol shows healthy proportions implying the abundance of food and a sufficient civilization. There are also statue figures of an animal of giant proportions lining the way to the cult figure. Possibly this animal was the vehicle of this goddess.
I am yet to find any details of settlements here. Perhaps, their story is sealed much beneath this sand. In absence of a corroborative text, we cannot guess about the social stratification or economic activities either. If PH doesn’t agree to excavate deeper here, perhaps we’ll move northwards in order to explore more of this lost civilization. The synchro-sat diagrams show possibility of abandoned settlements to the north-east of the civilization here.
It has been 36 hours since I last slept. So, until the next excavation and the next entry, signing off…
Arpit Bharat, XII
Sr. Archaeologist
Office of Ancient Planetary History,
PH – Xyne
Glossary
P0 – Planet ZERO (Earth)
PH – Planet Home (Xyne)
L-3 – Element 3 (based test for understanding the life of an object)
KE – Unit for distance (K – Echo)
Monday, August 2, 2010
Why am I not writing...
“Why are you not writing?”
“Don’t you know it already? I don’t have time…”
“Is it the best excuse that you can think of? I know it’s not true!”
“How can you say that it’s not true…I spend half my fucking day in the office.”
“Doing what? Faking that you are working?”
“Hey, cut it! I do work…”
“Yeah, in that secluded corner away from prying eyes as if they would copy what innovative out-of-box solutions you are implementing.”
“No, it’s my desk there…and besides I cannot write there.”
“But you can study newspapers and novels there…”
“They don’t, they just don’t require me to think, do they?”
“As if you are putting it all in already…”
“Hey, there’s a lot of din there too!”
“Are you probing in your mind, simulating a scene of office trying to carve off an excuse?”
“No!”
“Yes, you are. That’s what you’ve always been, a …”
“Hey…”
“Ok, ok, but what about the other half of the day?”
“I am too tired!”
“Lolz…don’t fucking kid me; you are tired after reading newspapers and novels?”
“You are saying as if I don’t go the site at all…”
“Well, maybe you do, maybe I chose to sleep then, you don’t need me then, do you?”
“I don’t need you now either…”
“Pity, you cannot get rid of me, nobody can…I am you! “
“That’s the problem, and still you don’t understand me.”
“But why should I? You are clipping me, you are tightening screws on yourself…don’t
you see?”
“No, I am not. “
“Yes, you are…what do you do when you get home too ‘tired’ to write? Surf internet endlessly, read those worthless Page 3 news and those crap movies? And punctuate it with porn?”
“Hey…”
“Look, I am not afraid of baring it all…that’s what you really do!”
“I do not watch porn…”
“Yeah, and I am Mother Teresa!”
“Fuck off…”
“What’s been with the dreams? Have you forgotten Rabindranath, Rudyard Kipling?
Orhan Pamuk? What about Upamanyu Chatterjee, he is a civil servant too! At least you’ll end up being Chetan Bhagat…”
“I don’t want to be Chetan Bhagat, the rest…they are too high!”
“So is that your latest excuse, that the aims are too soaring to be achieved, hoopla too far?”
“That’s not an excuse; that is the reality.”
“And since when has reality started stymieing your path?”
“Look, let’s be practical…”
“Yeah, practicality, a sensible man’s excuse! So the romance has worn off, aye?”
“Yes.”
“And was it the only reason that you were writing for?”
“Was it not?”
“What about being the harbinger of change? The revolutionary?”
“There’s nothing to revolt against?”
“Ahh…I see, is that so? What about the Khap fiasco? The Indo-Pakistan talk’s failure?”
“I cannot find inspiration in them, they are not affecting me…”
“Gawd, can’t believe you are the same person who wrote about an alien civilization last month…You promised to write once a week, at least.”
“But if there’s nothing happening over the week worth writing on, then what can I do?”
“What about that last weekend’s trip to Mahaballipuram?”
“There’s nothing to write about a small town full of temples carved out of stones, besides there’s still much archaeological uncertainty about them.”
“And what about the weekend escapades to Chennai’s shopping centers/malls/bird-watching sanctuaries?”
“Oh come on…”
“How can you leave it to me to find something to inspire you?”
“Isn’t that what you are supposed to do?”
“Yeah…that’s exactly what I am supposed to do! What about college, has your heart
dried up?”
“No, but it is beginning to…Chennai’s heat has evaporated all of Dwarahat’s snow! Besides, no one would like to read me sulk about college any more…”
“So are you afraid of you reader’s reactions?”
“Well…”
“Oh, what a coward! How can you think like that? What happened to the philosophy of life?”
“Nothing, but then…”
“Oh yeah, your practicality, come on, one more lecture on it…”
“Oh spare me…”
“If only you would spare me! How about lost love?”
“There’s no lost love…”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I damn am!”
“But then why do you always force me towards…”
“Look, you drag yourself towards a closed chapter; you cannot blame me for it.”
“You know, you cannot lie to me.”
“I am not lying.”
“Tendulkar, once said that if one wants to be great that he/she better not lie to himself/herself.”
“I am not lying, I am only…and why are you dragging Sachin in this! Don’t try to get me sentimental…”
“Your sentiments, haven’t you killed them all already? Buried them in the coffin of past?”
“You don’t need similes to convey the idea…”
“I can and I will because I am a writer! But you, you are just a pathetic excuse for
a writer…is that what you have been impressing upon people? You are just a cunctator! “
“Don’t you know it already? I don’t have time…”
“Is it the best excuse that you can think of? I know it’s not true!”
“How can you say that it’s not true…I spend half my fucking day in the office.”
“Doing what? Faking that you are working?”
“Hey, cut it! I do work…”
“Yeah, in that secluded corner away from prying eyes as if they would copy what innovative out-of-box solutions you are implementing.”
“No, it’s my desk there…and besides I cannot write there.”
“But you can study newspapers and novels there…”
“They don’t, they just don’t require me to think, do they?”
“As if you are putting it all in already…”
“Hey, there’s a lot of din there too!”
“Are you probing in your mind, simulating a scene of office trying to carve off an excuse?”
“No!”
“Yes, you are. That’s what you’ve always been, a …”
“Hey…”
“Ok, ok, but what about the other half of the day?”
“I am too tired!”
“Lolz…don’t fucking kid me; you are tired after reading newspapers and novels?”
“You are saying as if I don’t go the site at all…”
“Well, maybe you do, maybe I chose to sleep then, you don’t need me then, do you?”
“I don’t need you now either…”
“Pity, you cannot get rid of me, nobody can…I am you! “
“That’s the problem, and still you don’t understand me.”
“But why should I? You are clipping me, you are tightening screws on yourself…don’t
you see?”
“No, I am not. “
“Yes, you are…what do you do when you get home too ‘tired’ to write? Surf internet endlessly, read those worthless Page 3 news and those crap movies? And punctuate it with porn?”
“Hey…”
“Look, I am not afraid of baring it all…that’s what you really do!”
“I do not watch porn…”
“Yeah, and I am Mother Teresa!”
“Fuck off…”
“What’s been with the dreams? Have you forgotten Rabindranath, Rudyard Kipling?
Orhan Pamuk? What about Upamanyu Chatterjee, he is a civil servant too! At least you’ll end up being Chetan Bhagat…”
“I don’t want to be Chetan Bhagat, the rest…they are too high!”
“So is that your latest excuse, that the aims are too soaring to be achieved, hoopla too far?”
“That’s not an excuse; that is the reality.”
“And since when has reality started stymieing your path?”
“Look, let’s be practical…”
“Yeah, practicality, a sensible man’s excuse! So the romance has worn off, aye?”
“Yes.”
“And was it the only reason that you were writing for?”
“Was it not?”
“What about being the harbinger of change? The revolutionary?”
“There’s nothing to revolt against?”
“Ahh…I see, is that so? What about the Khap fiasco? The Indo-Pakistan talk’s failure?”
“I cannot find inspiration in them, they are not affecting me…”
“Gawd, can’t believe you are the same person who wrote about an alien civilization last month…You promised to write once a week, at least.”
“But if there’s nothing happening over the week worth writing on, then what can I do?”
“What about that last weekend’s trip to Mahaballipuram?”
“There’s nothing to write about a small town full of temples carved out of stones, besides there’s still much archaeological uncertainty about them.”
“And what about the weekend escapades to Chennai’s shopping centers/malls/bird-watching sanctuaries?”
“Oh come on…”
“How can you leave it to me to find something to inspire you?”
“Isn’t that what you are supposed to do?”
“Yeah…that’s exactly what I am supposed to do! What about college, has your heart
dried up?”
“No, but it is beginning to…Chennai’s heat has evaporated all of Dwarahat’s snow! Besides, no one would like to read me sulk about college any more…”
“So are you afraid of you reader’s reactions?”
“Well…”
“Oh, what a coward! How can you think like that? What happened to the philosophy of life?”
“Nothing, but then…”
“Oh yeah, your practicality, come on, one more lecture on it…”
“Oh spare me…”
“If only you would spare me! How about lost love?”
“There’s no lost love…”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I damn am!”
“But then why do you always force me towards…”
“Look, you drag yourself towards a closed chapter; you cannot blame me for it.”
“You know, you cannot lie to me.”
“I am not lying.”
“Tendulkar, once said that if one wants to be great that he/she better not lie to himself/herself.”
“I am not lying, I am only…and why are you dragging Sachin in this! Don’t try to get me sentimental…”
“Your sentiments, haven’t you killed them all already? Buried them in the coffin of past?”
“You don’t need similes to convey the idea…”
“I can and I will because I am a writer! But you, you are just a pathetic excuse for
a writer…is that what you have been impressing upon people? You are just a cunctator! “
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Next State
“What used to be the highest temperature there is the lowest temperature here! Our life is being raped!”
-Sandeep Patwa ‘Sir’
The descent from mountains to sea shore was too fast for my liking – less than a year, 3 months, one and a half days. The sweaters are all neatly packed in the trunk and I am perspiring profusely in the relentless sun. Beads of sweat are running all over my forehead and my handkerchief is damp already. I am sitting in an air conditioned room!
The evenings are thankfully blessed with a nonchalant wind from the sea. They bring with them the inescapable smell of stale fish and fresh flowers of mogra. Both of them are integrally, part of life here. Fish and rice is understandably staple food for the coast, yet the heavy presence of mogra startles me a bit. Perhaps there are miles long plantations for mogra somewhere in the inlands which escape my eyes still. The silvery white fish and the slowly-decaying-into-cream white flowers reflect a very small part of the pallor of the soul of the place.
This immaculate paleness stirs the vivacity in life here. From the crisply pressed shirts to the veshtis everything is immaculately white, almost mirroring the character of people. Although, it seems to be an obsession too. The morning faces are made up with lotions and powders, unmistakably marked white. Perhaps, this is a vain attempt to cover the natural tan or to imitate the superstars who rule the hearts here.
The sun has however not been able to tan the integrity of work here. The sense of following laws is obvious here, unlike north. The drivers ask you to tuck your elbows inside vehicles, no shopkeeper gives you bills unless you have spent money worth that, phhewww…I hate it sometimes! But the good thing is that public walls are painted with idols and one has to find a public toilet for peeing or even spitting. Although newspapers are filled up with stories of people getting killed violently. Some things don’t change across India.
The biggest barrier amongst the people for me is language. The natives speak their mother-tongue only with which rest of the India is not familiar, and they (most of them) do not know what the rest of the India speaks. Actually, I think some of people do speak and understand Hindi well, but they refrain from speaking Hindi in public places, especially when it comes to helping north Indians. The hounds of cultural-moral policing are everywhere. But you can easily identify whom to ask for directions – the ones wearing pleated trousers, crisp shirts, thick rimmed glasses and sporting heavy mustaches generally speak good English and are more often than not found to be reliable. For the ones wearing checked lungis, supporting heavy paunches in front and even heavier mustaches on faces, I am trying to learn the native language. I started with thank you (Nandri) and sorry (Manichidum), surviving the jibes of my fellow natives that I am starting with two words that no one uses anymore.
I am starting to fall in love with the ‘naariyal ki chutni’ here, although rest of the food is too monotonous and ricey for my liking. The walls of food and language have not stopped me from forming bonds though. The mobile retailer I go to for recharges, talks in English and asks me if I am growing fond of this place or not. His wife brings water for me every time I come, something I noticed she does not do for other customers. His kids have started calling me anna and they learn Microsoft Office in their school. A general store wali Amma near my house can talk in broken English. She shows concern about my choice and inquires me regularly if I am eating properly at my company canteen or not. She even scolded me once for buying coke and almost forced me to swap it with Amul Milk. I guess Ammas are same everywhere in India.
The rotis cost as high as 18 Rs. and sometimes I am bogged down by the sheer magnitude of frustration. I miss my college, the weather, the friends, the fun, the food and the Hindi newspaper…But then, this is also India, this is also Home. This is the 6th state I am dwelling in, wondering which one shall be next…
I am in Chennai, Tamil Nadu, and I am loving it, well, almost…
-Sandeep Patwa ‘Sir’
The descent from mountains to sea shore was too fast for my liking – less than a year, 3 months, one and a half days. The sweaters are all neatly packed in the trunk and I am perspiring profusely in the relentless sun. Beads of sweat are running all over my forehead and my handkerchief is damp already. I am sitting in an air conditioned room!
The evenings are thankfully blessed with a nonchalant wind from the sea. They bring with them the inescapable smell of stale fish and fresh flowers of mogra. Both of them are integrally, part of life here. Fish and rice is understandably staple food for the coast, yet the heavy presence of mogra startles me a bit. Perhaps there are miles long plantations for mogra somewhere in the inlands which escape my eyes still. The silvery white fish and the slowly-decaying-into-cream white flowers reflect a very small part of the pallor of the soul of the place.
This immaculate paleness stirs the vivacity in life here. From the crisply pressed shirts to the veshtis everything is immaculately white, almost mirroring the character of people. Although, it seems to be an obsession too. The morning faces are made up with lotions and powders, unmistakably marked white. Perhaps, this is a vain attempt to cover the natural tan or to imitate the superstars who rule the hearts here.
The sun has however not been able to tan the integrity of work here. The sense of following laws is obvious here, unlike north. The drivers ask you to tuck your elbows inside vehicles, no shopkeeper gives you bills unless you have spent money worth that, phhewww…I hate it sometimes! But the good thing is that public walls are painted with idols and one has to find a public toilet for peeing or even spitting. Although newspapers are filled up with stories of people getting killed violently. Some things don’t change across India.
The biggest barrier amongst the people for me is language. The natives speak their mother-tongue only with which rest of the India is not familiar, and they (most of them) do not know what the rest of the India speaks. Actually, I think some of people do speak and understand Hindi well, but they refrain from speaking Hindi in public places, especially when it comes to helping north Indians. The hounds of cultural-moral policing are everywhere. But you can easily identify whom to ask for directions – the ones wearing pleated trousers, crisp shirts, thick rimmed glasses and sporting heavy mustaches generally speak good English and are more often than not found to be reliable. For the ones wearing checked lungis, supporting heavy paunches in front and even heavier mustaches on faces, I am trying to learn the native language. I started with thank you (Nandri) and sorry (Manichidum), surviving the jibes of my fellow natives that I am starting with two words that no one uses anymore.
I am starting to fall in love with the ‘naariyal ki chutni’ here, although rest of the food is too monotonous and ricey for my liking. The walls of food and language have not stopped me from forming bonds though. The mobile retailer I go to for recharges, talks in English and asks me if I am growing fond of this place or not. His wife brings water for me every time I come, something I noticed she does not do for other customers. His kids have started calling me anna and they learn Microsoft Office in their school. A general store wali Amma near my house can talk in broken English. She shows concern about my choice and inquires me regularly if I am eating properly at my company canteen or not. She even scolded me once for buying coke and almost forced me to swap it with Amul Milk. I guess Ammas are same everywhere in India.
The rotis cost as high as 18 Rs. and sometimes I am bogged down by the sheer magnitude of frustration. I miss my college, the weather, the friends, the fun, the food and the Hindi newspaper…But then, this is also India, this is also Home. This is the 6th state I am dwelling in, wondering which one shall be next…
I am in Chennai, Tamil Nadu, and I am loving it, well, almost…
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
WWW
Honestly, I am a huge fan of internet (who’s not) and shall be thankful all my life to Dept. of Defense, US or Tim Burners Lee or even CERN (whoever invented it or claim to), but this is not an ode to World Wide Web. Rather, this curious incident took place during my stay in Gwalior and gave me an enlightening foretaste of what the future may have in store for us.
After a late night show of The Inglorious Bastards (on my laptop), my bed didn’t let me go early (any kind of sleep is becoming luxury to me, off late) and when I finally woke up thanks to constant yelling of my roommate, it was already 8, less than an hour to report on duty.
“Saale, uth jaa…the taps are running dry!” he screamed, almost into my ears.
I yawned as I pushed my head out of the quilt with effort and asked, “Is there a river nearby?”
His comb froze amidst his hair as he turned back and laughed aloud, “We are in a semi-arid desert and even the Chambal is 30 km away.” Clearly he had risen up early and got a naturally unfair advantage over me (and others).
After 5 more minutes of gargantuan effort, I finally managed to stand straight. Some 40-45 minutes were left to my reporting time. After 6 months at home, a water crisis was unanticipated for me.
“Why don’t they just switch on the motor?”
“Tried that already, the motor is down!!!”
Great, and it was supposed to be a Mechanical Engineering company. Why couldn’t they just call a machine freak from the workshop and have it repaired.
Being a KECian, this water crisis was definitely not new to me. But we always had this surplus of water in the gadera in college. I quickly went to bathroom and opened the tap in the bucket; it fizzled out in a couple of seconds. This certainly was a time to race my army of neurons.
I quickly went on the ground floor and brought the master key to the room locks. (My room was the only one occupied amongst 10 others on first floor; everyone else lived on ground floor) I opened all the rooms and tried to empty their taps of all the water that lay secure in pipe lines. 9 rooms and I had at last crammed up my bucket. But was this enough?
I took another spare bucket and went to see how everyone else was arranging theirs. It was a complete catastrophe for all my friends. Most were in a state of awe never having seen such crisis before. They lay sprawled on the sofa having resigned to the fate and watching TV. Some were busy writing applications of leave to the HRD. But the happiest were those who had risen early and had managed to have themselves dry-cleaned.
I dodged questions – if I had already arranged the water and where was I going looking for it. The garden outside seemed dry too having been stripped of its daily water feed. There was a tap on the hind side, veiled from the inquisitive eyes of young trainees. It was during a cricket match, that a six went stray and I discovered what that day could be a life savior.
I looked back behind my shoulder to check if I was being followed and hastily rushed to the tap. There certainly was some water in the line, but soon the tap started coughing and gave itself away. There was still quarter of a bucket left bare.
As I moved back in the hostel, a lot of stares followed me and even as their eyes were curiously (some jealously too) looking at the water in my bucket when all of a sudden my eyes found a treasure. There was a lot of water yet to be used…in the water filter. I poured more than half of the canter into my bucket, leaving some for the thirsty crows to throw pebbles in who were watching me, accusingly!
And within the next half an hour, I had done all the bath room activities including an additional shave! I was the cleanest, much to the dismay of my colleagues in the mess (I had to stuff up all the slices of bread that morning and rush).
The lessons of survival learnt in KEC prepared us for the hard life that awaits many of us. Sure it is going to be a tough battle but I am supremely confident that we are going to win this World War for Water…
After a late night show of The Inglorious Bastards (on my laptop), my bed didn’t let me go early (any kind of sleep is becoming luxury to me, off late) and when I finally woke up thanks to constant yelling of my roommate, it was already 8, less than an hour to report on duty.
“Saale, uth jaa…the taps are running dry!” he screamed, almost into my ears.
I yawned as I pushed my head out of the quilt with effort and asked, “Is there a river nearby?”
His comb froze amidst his hair as he turned back and laughed aloud, “We are in a semi-arid desert and even the Chambal is 30 km away.” Clearly he had risen up early and got a naturally unfair advantage over me (and others).
After 5 more minutes of gargantuan effort, I finally managed to stand straight. Some 40-45 minutes were left to my reporting time. After 6 months at home, a water crisis was unanticipated for me.
“Why don’t they just switch on the motor?”
“Tried that already, the motor is down!!!”
Great, and it was supposed to be a Mechanical Engineering company. Why couldn’t they just call a machine freak from the workshop and have it repaired.
Being a KECian, this water crisis was definitely not new to me. But we always had this surplus of water in the gadera in college. I quickly went to bathroom and opened the tap in the bucket; it fizzled out in a couple of seconds. This certainly was a time to race my army of neurons.
I quickly went on the ground floor and brought the master key to the room locks. (My room was the only one occupied amongst 10 others on first floor; everyone else lived on ground floor) I opened all the rooms and tried to empty their taps of all the water that lay secure in pipe lines. 9 rooms and I had at last crammed up my bucket. But was this enough?
I took another spare bucket and went to see how everyone else was arranging theirs. It was a complete catastrophe for all my friends. Most were in a state of awe never having seen such crisis before. They lay sprawled on the sofa having resigned to the fate and watching TV. Some were busy writing applications of leave to the HRD. But the happiest were those who had risen early and had managed to have themselves dry-cleaned.
I dodged questions – if I had already arranged the water and where was I going looking for it. The garden outside seemed dry too having been stripped of its daily water feed. There was a tap on the hind side, veiled from the inquisitive eyes of young trainees. It was during a cricket match, that a six went stray and I discovered what that day could be a life savior.
I looked back behind my shoulder to check if I was being followed and hastily rushed to the tap. There certainly was some water in the line, but soon the tap started coughing and gave itself away. There was still quarter of a bucket left bare.
As I moved back in the hostel, a lot of stares followed me and even as their eyes were curiously (some jealously too) looking at the water in my bucket when all of a sudden my eyes found a treasure. There was a lot of water yet to be used…in the water filter. I poured more than half of the canter into my bucket, leaving some for the thirsty crows to throw pebbles in who were watching me, accusingly!
And within the next half an hour, I had done all the bath room activities including an additional shave! I was the cleanest, much to the dismay of my colleagues in the mess (I had to stuff up all the slices of bread that morning and rush).
The lessons of survival learnt in KEC prepared us for the hard life that awaits many of us. Sure it is going to be a tough battle but I am supremely confident that we are going to win this World War for Water…
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
License to Kill
“Oye, bring two tea...special, quickly!” hollered the large man, Ganesan. He continued scanning the shops in front. The shorter man, Ramesh with him turned towards the rear of the tea stall, staring hard into the jungle.
The shops opposite the tea stall were even smaller, books and medicine, never to be used by the natives. Occasionally, a car would stop and someone would ask for a cup of tea, flip some pages from the magazines, refill the medicine inventory and drive away.
A small boy came with the tea. He looked not a day more than 8, tattered clothes, and his rib cage prominent. His hands were rough, nails coarse. Misfortune in one’s kismet was not limited to malnutrition in these parts. “Why, chhele, don’t you go to school?” quipped Ganesan. His partner apparently was not interested. Before he could open his mouth, the boy’s father spoke meekly from behind the stove, “Saabji, I can’t afford the books and uniform. And what good it’ll do to him, he must learn what he’s learning with me from the books of life.”
The transmitter under his gamochhi crackled with static, and his words choked inside the throat of Ganesan. “He’s approaching, alone...” the electro-mechanical voice said, as Ganesan steadied the transmitter. Both the man’s eyes turned towards the road yonder. The tea shop owner sensed that something was wrong and gestured his son to come back.
Both the customers continued to sip their tea.
A young man grew into the vision, gradually, walking slowly towards the shops. His hair locks flew behind him and he effortlessly tucked them behind his ear. He looked an intellectual, simple, thin, in slippers. A bag hung on his shoulder; it bounced with his steps – in rhythm. Keeping his eyes straight he turned to the book stall and peeled off a magazine from the shelf. The owner, waved off the flies.
Couple of steps behind him, the radio crackled once again – “All teams, move in!”
The bushes hurled and figures appeared out of nowhere. They were armed as if to control an entire mob, surrounding the lone lean figure as the shopkeeper tried to lower himself below the books. His paunch clearly required some extra effort to move.
Ganesan and Ramesh came forward, breaking the ring of people. The young man was yet to turn; he persisted with the pages of the magazine, indifferent to his environs.
“Finally, we got you, you son of a bald woman!”
Unhurried, the man put down the magazine and turned back. His eyes exuded radiance, and his mouth was in a half-smile, as if he had himself planned his incarceration.
*
The police station was just another sarkari office. The shelves that lined the walls were overloaded with files, bathing in dust. The only lively story they could tell was of the spiders and cockroaches that dwelled in them. Everyone else was dead. The gap between the tables was punctuated earnestly by wooden benches. Their skeleton was broken at places and sometimes entirely hinged off too.
Some of the havaldars had earned desks to themselves; they kept the surfaces clean. At the far end a chocolate coloured table was resting – royal most furniture in vicinity, for the senior most officer. A telephone sat on its top. It had not rung ever since it was installed. The petty thieves joked from behind the bars that they put the phone, but forgot to extend a line to it.
Behind the table, a dark alley led to the prisoner cells. It was dark, from the lack of electricity or from the deeds, nobody knew. Somehow, both led to each other. The three cells were filled with the stench of urine, beedi and of dark chill of crime. The policewallahs avoided the cells except for the daily inspection rounds, or to lock someone up when they would cover their nose and switch on a bulb, do their work and rush away. There was no electricity that day and the interrogation was to take time, this was no ordinary man. And so Ganesan decided that the man should be kept in the office.
The prisoner stood in the middle of the room. Eyes from all sides peered at him. The young man stayed silent looking down at his handcuffs. Ramesh saw that and jibed, “You won’t be able to break them.”
“I am not planning to”, he said, as he looked up to Ramesh, still smiling.
Ganesan interrupted, “Enough, look we are not here to play games, just tell us where the fuck are all your other companions.”
“They are hanging on the wall behind you.”
“You think you can get away by pointing to Gandhi, Nehru? You are wrong Chetan, you are damn wrong!”
“But who said anything about getting away?”
A constable who was scanning Chetan’s bag had found out some books in it. One of them fell on the ground. The interrogation stopped in middle. Ramesh promptly went and picked it up. It read – Mahatma Gandhi’s Interpretation of Bhagwad Gita.
“Bhagwad Gita haan, you read Gita and kill innocent people?”
“The people who got killed were not innocent, have you read Gita?”
Ganesan interjected again, “Don’t give me your intellectual crap. Just tell us the name of your friends and their location.”
“Gita, asks us to fight against what is wrong and in favour of the righteous”, Shyam quipped, unbothered by the question.
“Don’t you piss me off boy, you can’t justify violence and blame it on the sacred book, you are not even old enough to understand it.”
“Are you? Are you old enough? And what text do you use to justify your violence on innocent junta - the constitution?
“Look here you...”
“What gives you the right to justify your violence, to justify you raping the young girls, of sodomizing the culture of this land? What’s wrong if we become violent in protect what is rightfully ours?”
“How dare you argue with us? You cannot break the law...”
“Oh, so this is it, you are on that side of the mutilated table of law, and so all that you do is lawful! Is it? And since I am on this side of table, my deeds are crime. Tell me, does the government of India officially issue you the license to kill?” Shyam’s voice had risen from its usual level.
Ramesh started towards the young lad, his hand clenched into a fist. He was stopped by Ganesan.
“Look son, let’s not make it tough for either of us; just give me the names of your friends and I’ll help you in all the ways I can.”
“I already told you, who are my companions. There’s no more to us than the idea that they planted. We’ll not let you run down our homes, culture and people. Do you want to know why we killed that mahajan? Because he took away a man’s land in lieu of his payment and made his family slaves. That is why we killed him. We killed that engineer, because he had made that road in village not of coal tar but of millions of bribed rupees. And do you want to know, why you are still alive, inspector Ganesan? Because you only are doing your work without any tainted intentions, doing what you are ordered to do, by your Government of India.”
Chetan’s legs buckled and he fell down on his knees on the floor. He was hit by a lathi behind his knees by Ramesh. Several men drew their weapons and moved towards the man on the floor.
This time Ganesan didn’t stop any of them; his eyes went to the floor and then closed.
The shops opposite the tea stall were even smaller, books and medicine, never to be used by the natives. Occasionally, a car would stop and someone would ask for a cup of tea, flip some pages from the magazines, refill the medicine inventory and drive away.
A small boy came with the tea. He looked not a day more than 8, tattered clothes, and his rib cage prominent. His hands were rough, nails coarse. Misfortune in one’s kismet was not limited to malnutrition in these parts. “Why, chhele, don’t you go to school?” quipped Ganesan. His partner apparently was not interested. Before he could open his mouth, the boy’s father spoke meekly from behind the stove, “Saabji, I can’t afford the books and uniform. And what good it’ll do to him, he must learn what he’s learning with me from the books of life.”
The transmitter under his gamochhi crackled with static, and his words choked inside the throat of Ganesan. “He’s approaching, alone...” the electro-mechanical voice said, as Ganesan steadied the transmitter. Both the man’s eyes turned towards the road yonder. The tea shop owner sensed that something was wrong and gestured his son to come back.
Both the customers continued to sip their tea.
A young man grew into the vision, gradually, walking slowly towards the shops. His hair locks flew behind him and he effortlessly tucked them behind his ear. He looked an intellectual, simple, thin, in slippers. A bag hung on his shoulder; it bounced with his steps – in rhythm. Keeping his eyes straight he turned to the book stall and peeled off a magazine from the shelf. The owner, waved off the flies.
Couple of steps behind him, the radio crackled once again – “All teams, move in!”
The bushes hurled and figures appeared out of nowhere. They were armed as if to control an entire mob, surrounding the lone lean figure as the shopkeeper tried to lower himself below the books. His paunch clearly required some extra effort to move.
Ganesan and Ramesh came forward, breaking the ring of people. The young man was yet to turn; he persisted with the pages of the magazine, indifferent to his environs.
“Finally, we got you, you son of a bald woman!”
Unhurried, the man put down the magazine and turned back. His eyes exuded radiance, and his mouth was in a half-smile, as if he had himself planned his incarceration.
*
The police station was just another sarkari office. The shelves that lined the walls were overloaded with files, bathing in dust. The only lively story they could tell was of the spiders and cockroaches that dwelled in them. Everyone else was dead. The gap between the tables was punctuated earnestly by wooden benches. Their skeleton was broken at places and sometimes entirely hinged off too.
Some of the havaldars had earned desks to themselves; they kept the surfaces clean. At the far end a chocolate coloured table was resting – royal most furniture in vicinity, for the senior most officer. A telephone sat on its top. It had not rung ever since it was installed. The petty thieves joked from behind the bars that they put the phone, but forgot to extend a line to it.
Behind the table, a dark alley led to the prisoner cells. It was dark, from the lack of electricity or from the deeds, nobody knew. Somehow, both led to each other. The three cells were filled with the stench of urine, beedi and of dark chill of crime. The policewallahs avoided the cells except for the daily inspection rounds, or to lock someone up when they would cover their nose and switch on a bulb, do their work and rush away. There was no electricity that day and the interrogation was to take time, this was no ordinary man. And so Ganesan decided that the man should be kept in the office.
The prisoner stood in the middle of the room. Eyes from all sides peered at him. The young man stayed silent looking down at his handcuffs. Ramesh saw that and jibed, “You won’t be able to break them.”
“I am not planning to”, he said, as he looked up to Ramesh, still smiling.
Ganesan interrupted, “Enough, look we are not here to play games, just tell us where the fuck are all your other companions.”
“They are hanging on the wall behind you.”
“You think you can get away by pointing to Gandhi, Nehru? You are wrong Chetan, you are damn wrong!”
“But who said anything about getting away?”
A constable who was scanning Chetan’s bag had found out some books in it. One of them fell on the ground. The interrogation stopped in middle. Ramesh promptly went and picked it up. It read – Mahatma Gandhi’s Interpretation of Bhagwad Gita.
“Bhagwad Gita haan, you read Gita and kill innocent people?”
“The people who got killed were not innocent, have you read Gita?”
Ganesan interjected again, “Don’t give me your intellectual crap. Just tell us the name of your friends and their location.”
“Gita, asks us to fight against what is wrong and in favour of the righteous”, Shyam quipped, unbothered by the question.
“Don’t you piss me off boy, you can’t justify violence and blame it on the sacred book, you are not even old enough to understand it.”
“Are you? Are you old enough? And what text do you use to justify your violence on innocent junta - the constitution?
“Look here you...”
“What gives you the right to justify your violence, to justify you raping the young girls, of sodomizing the culture of this land? What’s wrong if we become violent in protect what is rightfully ours?”
“How dare you argue with us? You cannot break the law...”
“Oh, so this is it, you are on that side of the mutilated table of law, and so all that you do is lawful! Is it? And since I am on this side of table, my deeds are crime. Tell me, does the government of India officially issue you the license to kill?” Shyam’s voice had risen from its usual level.
Ramesh started towards the young lad, his hand clenched into a fist. He was stopped by Ganesan.
“Look son, let’s not make it tough for either of us; just give me the names of your friends and I’ll help you in all the ways I can.”
“I already told you, who are my companions. There’s no more to us than the idea that they planted. We’ll not let you run down our homes, culture and people. Do you want to know why we killed that mahajan? Because he took away a man’s land in lieu of his payment and made his family slaves. That is why we killed him. We killed that engineer, because he had made that road in village not of coal tar but of millions of bribed rupees. And do you want to know, why you are still alive, inspector Ganesan? Because you only are doing your work without any tainted intentions, doing what you are ordered to do, by your Government of India.”
Chetan’s legs buckled and he fell down on his knees on the floor. He was hit by a lathi behind his knees by Ramesh. Several men drew their weapons and moved towards the man on the floor.
This time Ganesan didn’t stop any of them; his eyes went to the floor and then closed.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Epitaph...
And so we talked all night about the rest of our lives
Where we're gonna be when we turn 25
I keep thinking times will never change
Keep on thinking things will always be the same
But when we leave this year we won't be coming back
No more hanging out cause we're on a different track
And if you got something that you need to say
You better say it right now cause you don't have another day
Cause we're moving on and we can't slow down
These memories are playing like a film without sound
And I keep thinking of the night in June
I didn't know much of love, but it came too soon
And There was me and you, and then it got real blue
Stay at home talkin' on the telephone and
We would get so excited, we'd get so scared
Laughing at our selves thinking life's not fair
As we go on, we remember
All the times we had together
And as our lives change, from whatever
We will still be, friends forever!!!
(Forgot to stick these on the notice-board, while still in Kailash...Those were the days, my friends...)
Where we're gonna be when we turn 25
I keep thinking times will never change
Keep on thinking things will always be the same
But when we leave this year we won't be coming back
No more hanging out cause we're on a different track
And if you got something that you need to say
You better say it right now cause you don't have another day
Cause we're moving on and we can't slow down
These memories are playing like a film without sound
And I keep thinking of the night in June
I didn't know much of love, but it came too soon
And There was me and you, and then it got real blue
Stay at home talkin' on the telephone and
We would get so excited, we'd get so scared
Laughing at our selves thinking life's not fair
As we go on, we remember
All the times we had together
And as our lives change, from whatever
We will still be, friends forever!!!
(Forgot to stick these on the notice-board, while still in Kailash...Those were the days, my friends...)
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Engineers for you
Top Ten Reasons To Date an Engineer
1. The world does revolve around us... We pick the coordinate system.
2. Find out what those other buttons on your calculator do.
3. We know how to handle stress and strain in our relationships.
4. Parents will approve.
5. Help with your math homework.
6. Can calculate head pressure.
7. Looks good on a resume.
8. Free body diagrams.
9. High starting salary.
10. Extremely good looking
Top Ten Reasons NOT to Date an Engineer
1. T-shirt and jeans are their formal dress. Hot dog and a six-pack is their seven-course meal.
2. The only social life known of is to post and talk on the net.
3. Flames like a monster and speaks like a pussycat.
4. Works from 6:30am to 7:30pm daily. No morning kisses and no evening walks.
5. No matter how hard you cry and how loud you yell, he just sits there calmly discussing your emotion in terms of mathematical logic.
6. Only listens to classic rock. Hates everything from Bach to Prince.
7. Touches his car more often than you.
8. Talks in acronyms.
9. Can't leave that damn pencil off his ear for a minute.
10. Will file a divorce if you call him in the middle of debugging.
You Might Be An Engineer If...
* You have no life - and you can PROVE it mathematically.
* You enjoy pain.
* You know vector calculus but you can't remember how to do long division.
* You chuckle whenever anyone says "centrifugal force".
* You've actually used every single function on your graphing calculator.
* It is sunny and 70 degrees outside, and you are working on a computer.
* You frequently whistle the theme song to "MacGyver".
* You know how to integrate a chicken and can take the derivative of water.
* You think in "math".
* You've calculated that the World Series actually diverges.
* You hesitate to look at something because you don't want to break down its wave function.
* You have a pet named after a scientist.
* You laugh at jokes about mathematicians.
* The Humane society has you arrested because you actually performed the Schrodinger's Cat experiment.
* You can translate English into Binary.
* You can't remember what's behind the door in the engineering building which says "Exit".
* You have to bring a jacket with you, in the middle of summer, because there's a wind-chill factor in the lab.
* You are completely addicted to caffeine.
* You avoid doing anything because you don't want to contribute to the eventual heat-death of the universe.
* You consider ANY non-engineering course "easy".
* When your professor asks you where your homework is, you claim to have accidentally determined its momentum so precisely, that according to Heisenberg it could be anywhere in the universe.
* The "fun" center of your brain has deteriorated from lack of use.
* You'll assume that a "horse" is a "sphere" in order to make the math easier.
* The blinking 12:00 on someone's VCR draws you in like a tractor beam to fix it.
* You bring a computer manual / technical journal as vacation reading.
* The salesperson at Circuit City can't answer any of your questions.
* You can't help eavesdropping in computer stores... and correcting the salesperson.
* You're in line for the guillotine... it stops working properly... and you offer to fix it.
* You go on the rides at Disneyland and sit backwards to see how they do the special effects.
* You have any "Dilbert" comics displayed in your work area.
* You have a habit of destroying things in order to see how they work.
* You have never backed up your hard drive.
* You haven't bought any new underwear or socks for yourself since you got married.
* You spent more on your calculator than on your wedding ring.
* You think that when people around you yawn, it's because they didn't get enough sleep.
* You would rather get more dots per inch than miles per gallon
* You've ever calculated how much you make per second.
* Your favorite James Bond character is "Q," the guy who makes the gadgets.
* You understood more than five of these jokes.
* You make a copy of this list, and post it on your door (or your home page !)
1. The world does revolve around us... We pick the coordinate system.
2. Find out what those other buttons on your calculator do.
3. We know how to handle stress and strain in our relationships.
4. Parents will approve.
5. Help with your math homework.
6. Can calculate head pressure.
7. Looks good on a resume.
8. Free body diagrams.
9. High starting salary.
10. Extremely good looking
Top Ten Reasons NOT to Date an Engineer
1. T-shirt and jeans are their formal dress. Hot dog and a six-pack is their seven-course meal.
2. The only social life known of is to post and talk on the net.
3. Flames like a monster and speaks like a pussycat.
4. Works from 6:30am to 7:30pm daily. No morning kisses and no evening walks.
5. No matter how hard you cry and how loud you yell, he just sits there calmly discussing your emotion in terms of mathematical logic.
6. Only listens to classic rock. Hates everything from Bach to Prince.
7. Touches his car more often than you.
8. Talks in acronyms.
9. Can't leave that damn pencil off his ear for a minute.
10. Will file a divorce if you call him in the middle of debugging.
You Might Be An Engineer If...
* You have no life - and you can PROVE it mathematically.
* You enjoy pain.
* You know vector calculus but you can't remember how to do long division.
* You chuckle whenever anyone says "centrifugal force".
* You've actually used every single function on your graphing calculator.
* It is sunny and 70 degrees outside, and you are working on a computer.
* You frequently whistle the theme song to "MacGyver".
* You know how to integrate a chicken and can take the derivative of water.
* You think in "math".
* You've calculated that the World Series actually diverges.
* You hesitate to look at something because you don't want to break down its wave function.
* You have a pet named after a scientist.
* You laugh at jokes about mathematicians.
* The Humane society has you arrested because you actually performed the Schrodinger's Cat experiment.
* You can translate English into Binary.
* You can't remember what's behind the door in the engineering building which says "Exit".
* You have to bring a jacket with you, in the middle of summer, because there's a wind-chill factor in the lab.
* You are completely addicted to caffeine.
* You avoid doing anything because you don't want to contribute to the eventual heat-death of the universe.
* You consider ANY non-engineering course "easy".
* When your professor asks you where your homework is, you claim to have accidentally determined its momentum so precisely, that according to Heisenberg it could be anywhere in the universe.
* The "fun" center of your brain has deteriorated from lack of use.
* You'll assume that a "horse" is a "sphere" in order to make the math easier.
* The blinking 12:00 on someone's VCR draws you in like a tractor beam to fix it.
* You bring a computer manual / technical journal as vacation reading.
* The salesperson at Circuit City can't answer any of your questions.
* You can't help eavesdropping in computer stores... and correcting the salesperson.
* You're in line for the guillotine... it stops working properly... and you offer to fix it.
* You go on the rides at Disneyland and sit backwards to see how they do the special effects.
* You have any "Dilbert" comics displayed in your work area.
* You have a habit of destroying things in order to see how they work.
* You have never backed up your hard drive.
* You haven't bought any new underwear or socks for yourself since you got married.
* You spent more on your calculator than on your wedding ring.
* You think that when people around you yawn, it's because they didn't get enough sleep.
* You would rather get more dots per inch than miles per gallon
* You've ever calculated how much you make per second.
* Your favorite James Bond character is "Q," the guy who makes the gadgets.
* You understood more than five of these jokes.
* You make a copy of this list, and post it on your door (or your home page !)
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
A Winter of Nostalgia
What shall be the bigger pain for someone in life – a laceration across one’s physical being or a lost bit of the labyrinth of feelings? There are some things afar the control of excess bouts of morphine for their effect cannot be fathomed, at least not in the bodily nous...
And what is the biggest loss for someone – to lose the love of your life, to lose the pals you make in 4 years, to lose the relations that will perhaps gradually die out, corroded with inescapable rust of time or to lose hope that life will ever blossom again, like it did, once...
Fog, this winter has botched to cloud the nostalgia and chill has done anything but frozen my tears. There were winter mornings when the sun used to receive us with arms wide open, there was a time when the morning ‘glass of adrak wali chai’ was the elixir of life. The table top conversations encompassed George Bush’s foreign policy, how Vajpayee was a better PM than Manmohan Singh, how Gupta sir would kick our asses for not remembering the correct formula and what was the hottest love-gossip in college. The grass would still be drenched from the night’s dew and our hands placated on the either side of steel glass of chai.
There was a stream that flew amidst the valley, alone, muddled...indomitable. Its stony outline would be our darling put to sit at leisure (which was all the time) and the land yonder was all for us to expedite. But, it never required an act of God to change the weather back there...sometimes cloud would come rushing over our heads with the faintest of breezes. And when it rained, it showered chill on us. The sole comfort was juxtaposed to the electric heaters (which often caused power failures). I remember rushing through the small torrents of water that congregated together on the road to academic block to form puddles. We had to jump across them, ending up with wet shoes nonetheless and yet another mind numbing chill. The most comprehensible memory is of that last hailstorm during the last semester exams which we had to endure in T-shirts in May end...
I can’t recall how many times I descried snowfall while in Dwarahat, but I have off pat that it became more stunning every time I saw it. The cotton white-shining flakes falling from the sky, a layer of frozen milky whiteness atop the mountains surrounding you and it showed the path to heaven... Imagine opening your eyes from last night’s slumber, propping on an elbow just to steal a glance at the sunrise outside your window to check if it is really ‘time’ yet...only to find the campus covered in white (although, only an inch or so). It was rare for snow to live that late in our valley and that was the only time I had a reason to fight my quilt and blanket off and away from my cosy bed. The sun was dawdling that dawn daring the snow to live some more, which was already forfeiting itself to light, blistering as if crushed dreams of glass coming to blows just to live their eventual breath.
My mornings, my winters will never be the same...
‘Corporate’ geysers await me as I force myself to power coffees every morning now and people barely have time to say good-morning, let alone strike a conversation. Separate blowers are provided for separate sets of cubicles - the heat is there, but the warmth is missing. People curse the season rather than enjoying it...and I wish this fog would fog my last memories of college, frantically packing my stuff into the car and hurrying off, so that none could see my eyes, wet, but me.
Friday, January 1, 2010
How Mouse belled the CAT...
(Scene 1)
Lord Yama’s abode, end of 2008…Long queue ahead of Chitragupta’s counter…
Naradji: Chitragupta, I see the reason why you have not been answering my messages off late! Busy these days?
Chitragupta: Yes, brahmarshi, the frequency of arrival has shot up by 27% in last couple of weeks.
Naradji: 27%? What the fuck…I think heaven’s going to need some more space allotment.
Chitragupta: No, few of these are gonna end up in heaven…most are suicide cases!
Naradji: Suicide cases? I told Parvati Mata to instill less sense of female empowerment in ‘devis’ down there, but she won’t listen. Now you poor little guy have to bear the brunt of all these dead souls. Do you ever think of going on a strike or at least on a holiday?
Chitragupta: Ssshhh…don’t let Yamaji hear you saying this. I just cajoled him for a pay rise. He’ll sentence me to extra hour’s work every day if I even ask for a holiday. Besides, these guys didn’t murder themselves for their wives. Tell me, have you heard of Lehmann Brothers and American Express Bank?
Naradji: You kidding? I’ve got an account with American Express and invested heavily in Lehmann Bros. What’s up with them, anything special?
Chitragupta: Hold your breath, both have recently filed for bankruptcy. People lost jobs, everywhere in the world. Some of these guys worked with them and others are mostly investors.
Naradji: No way man, this can’t happen to me…I am ruined!!! Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I am gonna kill you…I am rushing to Vishnu Bhagwan. Only he can save me and rest of the earth from this disaster.
(Flies off)
(Scene 2)
(Baikunth Dham, the dwelling place of Lord Vishnu)
Naradji: Bhagwan, bhagwan…save me, save me!!!
Vishnuji: Narad, could you please learn to knock dude? At least you used to cry
Narayan Narayan from a km before coming, but it seems that you are forgetting the good habits fast.
Naradji: (Catching his breath) Sorry bhagwan, but this is an emergency!
Vishnuji: Well, isn’t that obvious…when else do you come to me?
Naradji: (Aghast) Bhagwan…I just don’t know what to say…I keep chanting your name all over…I am sorry, please save me…or I’ll have to kill myself!
Vishnuji: Haha…very funny! I would love to see you do that Narad, but unfortunately you can’t just…die! Ok…now put a check valve on your Ganga-Jamuna and tell me what has happened.
Naradji: My investments, they have plummeted to pataal…there’s complete economic chaos on earth... People are committing suicides in mass numbers.
Vishnuji: Did Lakshmi tell you that she would catalyze your money on earth? (laughs) You…just keep reciting my name but learn nothing…What exactly were you saving money for? Fun trips to earth?
Naradji: Well…not exactly fun trips, just to see if everything is alright there…
Vishnuji: And in-between slip off to a pub…or somewhere else, haan? (winks)
Naradji: Oh, c’on bhagwan, even the gods are entitled to some fun…aren’t they?
Vishnuji: I bet they are; but you already have a lot of fun here as the live page 3, don’t you? Anyway, who the heck suggested you to put investments there? Don’t tell me Kuber did? I’ve already been keeping a tab on him…
Naradji: Actually, lakshmi mata has been very generous with those American hotshots – Lehmann Bros. off late and so I thought…which reminds me where is Mata right now? I could even write an application to her.
Vishnuji: She’s on a holiday; said was tired of listening to people’s daily wish for more of her inconsiderate of the fact the she won’t go but to who understand her true nature. That might as well explain the chaos.
Naradji: Only you can do something now, prabhu!
Vishnuji: Hmm… let’s see, it is an economic catastrophe, not my area of expertise! May be you should go to Shiva or to Ma Kali! May be, this is even happening because they wanted it to. After all, they are the Gods of destruction. This is their hiccup…a self-correction cycle!
Naradji: But it would take a lot of time to get Lord Shiva out of his samadhi only! Besides, his security clearance is pretty high…and between you and me, I think, he doesn’t think much of me!
Vishnuji: Alright, alright…we’ll do something. Now, have you talked to Chitragupta? What are the people who have died the most? I mean what profession are they from?
Naradji: They are mostly investors who have lost their money and now their life…from their whisperings; I believe they are holding their investment managers responsible.
Visnhuji: Managers, right that narrows it down…Ummm, let’s make it simpler!!
(Closes his eyes for a second, a Sony Vaio appears…looks at Narad)
I just upgraded my system to Windows 7 from Vista!
Naradji: Vista really sucked…
Vishnuji: That’s why I put the notion of quitting in the mind of Gates…thank God, oops me, that ‘7’ is better!!! Now, here we connect to the Wi-max system, and here… is my homepage – google.com
Naradji: Man, your connection is damn faster than mine is…Have you updated the hardware too?
Vishnuji: Nope, there’re special privileges of being me, you see!
Naradji: (mutters) Privileges…when you control the universe…
Vishnuji: I can hear, Narad!!! Watch out…
Naradji: Sorry, bhagwan…forgot that you use the latest hearing aid from Intel! So what spider are you sending out…
Vishnuji: Financial crisis – Lehmann Brothers – Managers, hope it will turn out ample accurate results…I hate probing through the all the e–trash!
Naradji: Yeah…and that’s when you are ‘the’ god, just imagine how much it frustrates me…
Vishnuji: Whatever…well, here they come, Lehmann brothers – bankrupt, fraud, assets, liabilities, management, fresh recruits, investors…
Naradji: Shouldn’t we be venting ourselves at management?
Vishnuji: (Stern expression on face) Gods are never responsible for the blunder…remember?
Naradji: (Mechanically) Yes! Those who err are always a step lower than perfection, distant from being God…I remember! But then who are we targeting?
Vishnuji: Isn’t it obvious? The VPs, the senior managers and every other hot-shot … lemme check their profile. (Clicks on a link)
Naradji: Hey, look…lots of them look like Indians…what’s happening down there?
Vishnuji: Hmmm…I hope this is not an international conspiracy by Indians against the Dollar…damn me if they hid it from me too…
Naradji: An international conspiracy? What are these guys – a coterie?
Vishnuji: (Suddenly breaking into a triumphant smile) There’s more to them than just a coterie…the stemmata…bloody hell! I should’ve guessed it!
Naradji: What?
Vishnuji: Have you heard of IIMs? They all come from IIMs…
Naradji: Fuck me…if I can’t bell the CAT!
Vishnuji: Well, dude…if you don’t mind your language…I am as well going to do that. And what’s this kitten that you are talking about?
Naradji: Pardon me prabhu…just couldn’t hide my excitement, and it’s no mundane cat that I am speaking of…it is the CAT - Common Admission Test.
Vishnuji: An entrance examination?
Naradji: You bet…but it’s not just an entrance examination…Just a couple of years ago, I overheard an earthling expressing his last dying wish – cracking the CAT!
Vishnuji: So it must be like JEE…every other +2 student from India trying to crack it…
Naradji: Well, they try to gauge every aspect of your personality…not just that thing about cramming the book-shit! That’s what I heard him telling this other earthling…they want guided missiles!! But what’ as that got to do with the crisis?
Vishnuji: Air…
Naradji: Beg your pardon?
Vishnuji: The guys who, as the inferior ones say it, bell the cat have their minds inflated with this air of superiority of being invincible…and that being the negative feeling drove the forces of crisis towards their work center…an internal mechanism to keep the earthlings in check, newly developed by Shiva, it is still in beta phase though!
Naradji: Beta phase?
Vishnuji: The testing phase, laddy…honestly, if you are any slower than this, you’ll be going backwards! It was the brainchild of the soul of Karl Marx, that guy with long beard who just hates every market in the world…He tried to sell the idea to our Jesus version, but you know…he doesn’t deal with such specific working of the world…it’s either a good deed or a sin for him – no grey zones!
Naradji: (Muffling a yawn) Alright…so what’s the plan now?
Vishnuji: Well…these guys think that they are cool, ‘cause they cracked CAT, right? Let’s disrupt CAT this year…
Naradji: How are we gonna do that?
Vishnuji: Go to Yama and ask him to lend you a couple of viruses…while I fix my meeting with some of the professors in IIMs who control the CAT…(laughs)
(And for rest of the story, refer to archives of The Times of India or India Today)
Lord Yama’s abode, end of 2008…Long queue ahead of Chitragupta’s counter…
Naradji: Chitragupta, I see the reason why you have not been answering my messages off late! Busy these days?
Chitragupta: Yes, brahmarshi, the frequency of arrival has shot up by 27% in last couple of weeks.
Naradji: 27%? What the fuck…I think heaven’s going to need some more space allotment.
Chitragupta: No, few of these are gonna end up in heaven…most are suicide cases!
Naradji: Suicide cases? I told Parvati Mata to instill less sense of female empowerment in ‘devis’ down there, but she won’t listen. Now you poor little guy have to bear the brunt of all these dead souls. Do you ever think of going on a strike or at least on a holiday?
Chitragupta: Ssshhh…don’t let Yamaji hear you saying this. I just cajoled him for a pay rise. He’ll sentence me to extra hour’s work every day if I even ask for a holiday. Besides, these guys didn’t murder themselves for their wives. Tell me, have you heard of Lehmann Brothers and American Express Bank?
Naradji: You kidding? I’ve got an account with American Express and invested heavily in Lehmann Bros. What’s up with them, anything special?
Chitragupta: Hold your breath, both have recently filed for bankruptcy. People lost jobs, everywhere in the world. Some of these guys worked with them and others are mostly investors.
Naradji: No way man, this can’t happen to me…I am ruined!!! Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I am gonna kill you…I am rushing to Vishnu Bhagwan. Only he can save me and rest of the earth from this disaster.
(Flies off)
(Scene 2)
(Baikunth Dham, the dwelling place of Lord Vishnu)
Naradji: Bhagwan, bhagwan…save me, save me!!!
Vishnuji: Narad, could you please learn to knock dude? At least you used to cry
Narayan Narayan from a km before coming, but it seems that you are forgetting the good habits fast.
Naradji: (Catching his breath) Sorry bhagwan, but this is an emergency!
Vishnuji: Well, isn’t that obvious…when else do you come to me?
Naradji: (Aghast) Bhagwan…I just don’t know what to say…I keep chanting your name all over…I am sorry, please save me…or I’ll have to kill myself!
Vishnuji: Haha…very funny! I would love to see you do that Narad, but unfortunately you can’t just…die! Ok…now put a check valve on your Ganga-Jamuna and tell me what has happened.
Naradji: My investments, they have plummeted to pataal…there’s complete economic chaos on earth... People are committing suicides in mass numbers.
Vishnuji: Did Lakshmi tell you that she would catalyze your money on earth? (laughs) You…just keep reciting my name but learn nothing…What exactly were you saving money for? Fun trips to earth?
Naradji: Well…not exactly fun trips, just to see if everything is alright there…
Vishnuji: And in-between slip off to a pub…or somewhere else, haan? (winks)
Naradji: Oh, c’on bhagwan, even the gods are entitled to some fun…aren’t they?
Vishnuji: I bet they are; but you already have a lot of fun here as the live page 3, don’t you? Anyway, who the heck suggested you to put investments there? Don’t tell me Kuber did? I’ve already been keeping a tab on him…
Naradji: Actually, lakshmi mata has been very generous with those American hotshots – Lehmann Bros. off late and so I thought…which reminds me where is Mata right now? I could even write an application to her.
Vishnuji: She’s on a holiday; said was tired of listening to people’s daily wish for more of her inconsiderate of the fact the she won’t go but to who understand her true nature. That might as well explain the chaos.
Naradji: Only you can do something now, prabhu!
Vishnuji: Hmm… let’s see, it is an economic catastrophe, not my area of expertise! May be you should go to Shiva or to Ma Kali! May be, this is even happening because they wanted it to. After all, they are the Gods of destruction. This is their hiccup…a self-correction cycle!
Naradji: But it would take a lot of time to get Lord Shiva out of his samadhi only! Besides, his security clearance is pretty high…and between you and me, I think, he doesn’t think much of me!
Vishnuji: Alright, alright…we’ll do something. Now, have you talked to Chitragupta? What are the people who have died the most? I mean what profession are they from?
Naradji: They are mostly investors who have lost their money and now their life…from their whisperings; I believe they are holding their investment managers responsible.
Visnhuji: Managers, right that narrows it down…Ummm, let’s make it simpler!!
(Closes his eyes for a second, a Sony Vaio appears…looks at Narad)
I just upgraded my system to Windows 7 from Vista!
Naradji: Vista really sucked…
Vishnuji: That’s why I put the notion of quitting in the mind of Gates…thank God, oops me, that ‘7’ is better!!! Now, here we connect to the Wi-max system, and here… is my homepage – google.com
Naradji: Man, your connection is damn faster than mine is…Have you updated the hardware too?
Vishnuji: Nope, there’re special privileges of being me, you see!
Naradji: (mutters) Privileges…when you control the universe…
Vishnuji: I can hear, Narad!!! Watch out…
Naradji: Sorry, bhagwan…forgot that you use the latest hearing aid from Intel! So what spider are you sending out…
Vishnuji: Financial crisis – Lehmann Brothers – Managers, hope it will turn out ample accurate results…I hate probing through the all the e–trash!
Naradji: Yeah…and that’s when you are ‘the’ god, just imagine how much it frustrates me…
Vishnuji: Whatever…well, here they come, Lehmann brothers – bankrupt, fraud, assets, liabilities, management, fresh recruits, investors…
Naradji: Shouldn’t we be venting ourselves at management?
Vishnuji: (Stern expression on face) Gods are never responsible for the blunder…remember?
Naradji: (Mechanically) Yes! Those who err are always a step lower than perfection, distant from being God…I remember! But then who are we targeting?
Vishnuji: Isn’t it obvious? The VPs, the senior managers and every other hot-shot … lemme check their profile. (Clicks on a link)
Naradji: Hey, look…lots of them look like Indians…what’s happening down there?
Vishnuji: Hmmm…I hope this is not an international conspiracy by Indians against the Dollar…damn me if they hid it from me too…
Naradji: An international conspiracy? What are these guys – a coterie?
Vishnuji: (Suddenly breaking into a triumphant smile) There’s more to them than just a coterie…the stemmata…bloody hell! I should’ve guessed it!
Naradji: What?
Vishnuji: Have you heard of IIMs? They all come from IIMs…
Naradji: Fuck me…if I can’t bell the CAT!
Vishnuji: Well, dude…if you don’t mind your language…I am as well going to do that. And what’s this kitten that you are talking about?
Naradji: Pardon me prabhu…just couldn’t hide my excitement, and it’s no mundane cat that I am speaking of…it is the CAT - Common Admission Test.
Vishnuji: An entrance examination?
Naradji: You bet…but it’s not just an entrance examination…Just a couple of years ago, I overheard an earthling expressing his last dying wish – cracking the CAT!
Vishnuji: So it must be like JEE…every other +2 student from India trying to crack it…
Naradji: Well, they try to gauge every aspect of your personality…not just that thing about cramming the book-shit! That’s what I heard him telling this other earthling…they want guided missiles!! But what’ as that got to do with the crisis?
Vishnuji: Air…
Naradji: Beg your pardon?
Vishnuji: The guys who, as the inferior ones say it, bell the cat have their minds inflated with this air of superiority of being invincible…and that being the negative feeling drove the forces of crisis towards their work center…an internal mechanism to keep the earthlings in check, newly developed by Shiva, it is still in beta phase though!
Naradji: Beta phase?
Vishnuji: The testing phase, laddy…honestly, if you are any slower than this, you’ll be going backwards! It was the brainchild of the soul of Karl Marx, that guy with long beard who just hates every market in the world…He tried to sell the idea to our Jesus version, but you know…he doesn’t deal with such specific working of the world…it’s either a good deed or a sin for him – no grey zones!
Naradji: (Muffling a yawn) Alright…so what’s the plan now?
Vishnuji: Well…these guys think that they are cool, ‘cause they cracked CAT, right? Let’s disrupt CAT this year…
Naradji: How are we gonna do that?
Vishnuji: Go to Yama and ask him to lend you a couple of viruses…while I fix my meeting with some of the professors in IIMs who control the CAT…(laughs)
(And for rest of the story, refer to archives of The Times of India or India Today)
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