And It strikes back!

It was autumn, and the Indians of a remote reservation asked their new Chief if the next winter was going to be cold or mild. Now, he was Indian Chief in a modern society, so he had never learned the old secrets and as he watched the sky, he could not predict what would happen in the next future. Anyway, to be sure, he told his tribe that the winter was going to be cold and that the members of the village would have to collect firewood to be prepared. But, being also a practical leader, after a few days he had an idea: he went to the telephone cabin and called to the National Meteorology Service and asked:

- Is the next winter going to be very cold?
- It seems that the next winter will be cold enough - said the meteorologist in charge.
So, the Chief returned to his people and told them to collect more firewood, to be prepared.

A week later the Chief called again the National Meteorology Service and asked:

- Will it be a very cold winter?
- Yes - said the meteorologist in charge - it is going to be a very cold winter.
The Chief returned again to his people and ordered them to collect all the pieces of firewood they could find.

Two weeks later the Chief called the National Meteorology Service once again:

- Are you absolutely sure that the next winter will be so cold?
- Absolutely, without any doubt - the man answered - it will be one of the coldest winters ever.
- How can you be so sure? - asked the Chief.
And the meteorologist said:
- All you need is to watch the Indians collecting wood like mad!



Note: Copied! Period!

Sounds and Silences

There were only two of us there. She was about twenty feet away from me. There was no sound whatsoever around us spare for the noise of the running a/c in the vicinity. Where were “we” you ask? Or Who are ”we” you ask? I guess the whole of library was empty that day, empty even for the likes of a library that is, which was typical at the start of a semester (: P). However, there she was, sitting right in front of my eyes, so engrossed in reading her book and there was I, noticing her every move. Not really, but I bet that’s what you wanted to hear (: P). I was also reading a novel, a classic Charles Dickens “Great Expectations”. Then suddenly she looked up, adjusted the hair locks from her face, looked at me and gave an enigmatic smile.

Say what? Let’s rewind a bit.

It all began during the early days of my fifth semester when I used to go to library to read classics kept there. I liked the silence and ambience at first as I find it easier to concentrate in a deserted and reticent environment. It was blissful and refreshing for me and became a habit. Continuing for a week or so, I noticed a girl coming there regularly too. I usually do not take much notice of the surroundings but it struck me that she used to sit in the same corridor, wander in the same classics’ section (read the same kind of books, perhaps?) and used to sit there until I did. That day she was sitting just a few feet away from me, that black hair neatly tied with a few strands escaping the shackles to end up on her face, those searching eyes, attentive ears noticing every movement around her, indicating she is unsure of something. But, what and why? Well, her Salwar-Kurta apparel rather gave it away. :P . So, a fresher escaping the seniors and quad sessions (no ragging in IITK, remember?) by coming to the library. Quite innovative, I must add. However, I was curious to know what she might do there for three- four hours. I just happen to pass her desk and found her reading War and Peace. Tolstoy!! Seriously! Not that bad but too philosophical for anyone’s liking. And so boring that even Tolstoy took six months to write it. Contrastingly this also reminded of this fantastic article , but then I can imagine anything I want, right? I was reading Dickens (yeah, again) at that time. Next day I didn’t see her anywhere. I was immersed in reading when a loud, shrilly voice happened to divert my attention. I found that the same girl was sitting behind me and was being yelled at by two of her seniors apparently for bunking (?) quads. Being in third year means you can show your authority without worrying about creating a fuss. I knew they were sophomores and asked them to be quiet and leave her alone. (I might have said something on these lines. ;)). They weren’t happy about it and left giving her warnings in undertone. She looked at me and then went back to reading. So much for all my heroics! I didn’t see her for the next two days and totally forgot about her. Today, suddenly, there she was, coming and sitting on the desk next to me. Maybe she was hoping I would scare her seniors away like last time. She looked at me and smiled mysteriously. I felt like I was transformed into a virtual bodyguard but gave her a smile nevertheless. In her hand was a Dostoyevsky’s classic “Crime and punishment”(Whoa!). How much philosophy does this girl reads? Over the next few days, we exchanged glances and smiles but I could never talk to her. (Hint: Her choice of books was a big reason ;)). During this time she had moved over to Dickens (Great Expectations) having completed persuasion, Jane Eyre and Anna Karenina (Tolstoy, again!) in between. Was her choice of novels trying to tell me something? (Or that was me just being paranoid with patterns? Maybe the latter.) Then there were exams and both of us had to study in a crowded library. After the exams, the same sequence continued. We looked at each other, exchanged smiles but bloody hell; I didn’t even know her name and had no courage to ask her either. By the way i kept track of what all she read during this time (i just happen to find out :P). ). She was onto Orwell (1984) having past Harper lee, JD Salinger and Hemmingway (A moveable feast). That is one hell of a reading speed :P. How much can a girl, or for that matter, anyone be into philosophical classics? Every time I saw her a part of me wanted to go over and talk to her, ask the name atleast but I could not. How could I do it just like that? Without any pretenses, i was clueless as to how to do it.

Then she didn’t turn up for a week or so. I had left it too late. After some weeks i saw her at the CC canteen. She was with a couple of girls from her batch. Again, we exchanged smiles but in my mind, i was brooding over whether i should go over there and talk to her. "What if she ditched me? In front of her friends! those first years!! More so in front of my friends, who would never let me forget it!" I was scared like hell. Should I just go over and talk to her? Wouldn’t that be awkward? If she were alone maybe then I could have talked to her! ”She was alone sitting in front of you for almost a couple of months”, an inner voice in my head said. Why girls can’t wander alone, I thought. Why do they have to move in groups?? I was occupied by these thoughts when she went over to pay the bill and eventually I followed. She smiled at me at the counter (again). My impulses took over me and suddenly I mumbled, "Hi! So, what’s your name?" She said, "Excuse me?” Yeah I didn’t say it out loud enough for her to hear it. However, I again repeated my question with a heart going at supersonics and mind numb with fear (now that I think of it, it wasn’t like that). She replied "Oh, that! And I thought you would never ask."

Hacker

Another one was caught today, it's all over the papers. "Teenager Arrested in Computer Crime Scandal", "Hacker Arrested after Bank Tampering"...

Damn the kids of today. Damn them. They are all alike. All result of a misspent childhood. Damn them.

But hey, you, yes you, who thinks all the world's wisdom lies in your pea sized brain, yes you, in your three-tier psychology and a apartheidic mind, have you ever dared to look into the psyche of a hacker?? Ever wondered what turned him on, what forces molded him, how come he is like the way he is??

I am a teenage hacker, enter my world.....a magnificent one that it is....one that would sweep you off of your very foundation......one that would overwhelm you and stupefy you at the same time.

Mine is the world that begins from school.........I'm smarter than most of the other kids, the crap they teach us bores me...."Damn these kids....why do they turn up when all they are interested in is watching birds and trees."

Damn underachiever. They're all the same.

I'm in high school now. I've listened to teachers explain for the fifteenth time how to multiply two fractions. I understand it. "No Ma'am, I didn't show my work. I did it in my head......"

Damn cheater. Probably copied it. They're all the same.......

I made a discovery today. I found a computer. Hang on, this is way too cool. it does what i want it to. It doesn't scolds me or mocks me. If it makes a mistake because i screwed it up. Not because it doesn't like me.....or feels threatened by me.......Or thinks i am a bloody maniac......I have found my rightful companion......

Damn this kid. All he does is play games. Isn't he taught anything at school. Damn his teachers.

And then as if the floodgates were waiting to open....they opened the door to the world......an entirely different world rushing through the phone like drugs through an addict's veins, a refuge from the day-to-day incompetency is sought......the escape-route is found. "This is it.......this is where I belong...." Its as if I know everyone here....though I've never met them, never talked to them, and may not here from them ever again.....guys I know you all.....

Damn kid. Blocking the phone line again. They're all alike......

You bet your ass we are all alike........we've been spoon-fed baby food when we hungered for beef and steak......any bits that you did let slip through were pre-chewed and tasteless. We have been dominated by sadists, ignored by apathetic. The few who had something to teach found us willing pupils, but those were like the few drops of water in the desert.

But now we have our own paradise......the world of electron and the switch, where the power is in our hands. We make use of a service already existing without paying for what could be dirt-cheap if it wasn't run by profiteering gluttons, and you call us criminals. We explore....... and you call us criminals. We seek after knowledge... and you call us criminals. We exist without skin color, without nationality, without religious bias... and you call us criminals.

Yes, I am a criminal. My crime is that of curiosity. My crime is that of judging people by what they say and think, not what they look like. My crime is that of outsmarting you, something that you will never forgive me for. I am a criminal and I am proud to be one. You may stop this entity but not all of us.......after all we are all the same.

Comment: Writing style not original as i found this on the internet and just wanted to write my own version of it. You might find some content to be the same, especially the tone. I am not claiming it to be my original work.

You really dont wanna know how it ends

Naresh had never been to Mumbai before. He stepped out onto platform 14 of Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus as the train drew to a halt with a drawling grind, armed with a briefcase, and a face kindled with fascination. In his mind's eye the place had appeared much brighter and clean; but he cared little. Mumbai's grandeur lies not in cleanliness, but in size and activity, thought he, besides, it's cleaner than most stations I've seen.

Never ceasing his gazing and with his awestruck face, Naresh headed towards the exit. Having spent most of his life in a small naxalite town in Chhattisgarh, he had jumped at the opportunity to visit Mumbai as a representative of the organisation he worked for. He had pleaded his superior to extend his visit, but to no avail. He was to stay only for the day fixed for the conference he was to attend and leave for home the next day.

The clock read two 'o clock, and the conference was at six. With a heavy heart, Naresh decided to head straight for his hotel (which also served as the venue for the conference) instead of sightseeing. There was hardly any time, he was too tired, and had to formulate for the meeting.

Lost in thoughts, he removed himself just in time from the drag of a mob alighted off a local train. Their haste and indifference served only to deepen his enthrallment. He followed them, matching his pace with theirs, swinging his briefcase merrily.

Outside, a clean sky greeted him, along with the hustle bustle of the city with its myriad vehicles and pedestrians. While the former skirted along the roads, ranging from motorbikes to double-decked buses, the latter carried on with their harried pace, some stopping in their way for footpath peddlers selling everything from footwear to toys. All this Naresh watched as he searched for an autorickshaw to carry him to his destination.

Gazing at the quaint mixture of ancient and modern buildings surrounding CST, he beckoned at an empty auto passing his way. Telling the driver his destination, he climbed inside and resumed his gazing. He had never seen such wide roads. There was no sign of animals upon them, no dung, no filthy plastic bags or overflowing garbage bins. Neither was there any sign of loose gravel or potholes.

His reverie was broken soon when the auto drew to a halt in a traffic jam. Within moments Naresh found himself engulfed in billowing smoke and bellowing car horns. His eyes smarted, his nose itched and he started coughing. He pulled over his briefcase on to his lap to retrieve a handkerchief -

"What is in that briefcase?"

Naresh wasn't as surprised at the question as he was at the tone with which it was asked: extremely stern and almost hateful and threatening. He noticed the driver's gaze, and replied in a strict voice,

"How does it matter to you? Just keep on driving."

"I will not drive any further until you show me the contents of your briefcase."

Naresh thought of getting off the auto but hesitated as they were yet in the midst of the traffic jam.

"I'm sorry, bhaisaab, but I've had bad experiences with briefcases. I need to look inside to ensure my safety. If you would just show me, I will not disturb you any further."
There was something about his tone, a vague sincerity that made Naresh open his briefcase and turn it towards him,

"See? Just clothes and documents. Now would you please go on?"

"Yes, okay, bhaisaab. Sorry for the problem."

Naresh stared at the autowallah. He was young, almost his own age, with a healthy build, and a stern, square face with short, cropped hair. There was a certain gleam in his eyes that Naresh could not fathom. It puzzled him, as much as the 'bad experiences' he had talked about. Noticing his gaze, the autowallah said,

"I haven't told many people about what happened to me because of fear, bhaisaab, but I'll tell you because you're a kind man, and I feel sorry for troubling you."

The traffic cleared, and the autowallah began driving,

"I came to Mumbai four months ago; alone, and in pursuit of a better life. After being rejected for even the most mundane of jobs, I had to settle for driving an autorickshaw. Most of my day is spent caught up in traffic jams and avoiding collisions. When night falls, I turn to the slum I live in, trying to find sleep in inhumane conditions.

"I was getting used to it, when about two months ago I picked up a man from Churchgate, carrying a briefcase just like yours. The place he wanted to go wasn't too far away, so I agreed and began driving."
He sped the auto past a car, placing it behind a bus.
"There was something peculiar about him, bhaisaab. I swear I saw it when he got inside. But foolishly I ignored it.
"It didn't take long for us to reach the place. He had been fidgeting with the contents of his briefcase; closed it and got off. I turned towards him, expecting money. Instead, he was pointing a gun at me.

"He commanded me to follow him, and led me inside a shabby apartment, where there were two more like him. They had their guns drawn out as they allowed us inside; Now they pointed them at me.

'Sit.' said the man who had opened the door, beckoning at a chair. I did.

'Am I late?' said the one who had brought me in.
'No. He's still inside. We'll have to hurry up, though. He says he'll be out in 15 mins.'
'What about them?'
'They didn't follow him inside, but he's sure they're going to follow him here and ambush us.'

The guy who had brought me then turned away and -"

A couple of motorcycles whizzed past from the left; The autowallah just avoided colliding with one of them. He drew out his head and mouthed angry curses at them,

"I'm sorry, bhaisaab, these crazy bikers are always trying to get themselves killed...

Well, the guy who had brought me in started talking on a phone. The other pointed his gun at me again, and said,

'Do not act smart. Do as we say and you will be unharmed. If you deviate at any point, we will not hesitate in killing you. Even if you escape, we will track you down and make sure you breathe no more. Do you understand?'

I nodded.

'Good. Now you will take Ash here to the Administration Tribune building in Khetwadi. Drive steadily and reach within 10 minutes. Ash will get down and our companion Shaz will get inside when you arrive. Take him where he tells you to.'

I nodded again and followed his gaze. Ash was filling up the Briefcase my captor had brought with him.

He continued, 'Do not panic and keep calm. Remember, any smart moves, and we will kill you.'

Meanwhile, Ash had completed with the briefcase. Pointing his gun at me, he beckoned me to follow him, and said, 'Let's go, Rob,' to the guy who had brought me in. He followed us out, while the third stayed inside.

"Rob didn't come with us. He went in a different direction. Meanwhile, I drove with Ash. All the time I was aware of the gun he kept pointed at me. I had no desire to disobey them, and did as was told. We reached the Tribune building within 10 minutes, and as I halted in front of it, I saw a man emerge from within, with a briefcase identical to the one Ash was holding. Ash paid me and left, leaving his briefcase behind. Shaz approached me and was telling me where to go.

"He repeated the same address on his phone as I began driving, after which he disconnected. He was panting, but there was an air of pride about him; as if he had succeeded in a very difficult task."

The autowallah took a sharp left turn which almost propelled Naresh outside. He continued,

"Shaz looked at me and said,

'Hurry up. We are being followed. Do not let them catch up with us.'

I looked at the rearview mirror, and saw a car tailing me not very far away.

'Do you know what this is?' he said boisterously, pointing at his briefcase, 'These are copies of extremely secret documents. They didn't suspect me earlier, but now they are following me all the time. They believe I haven't noticed them and want to catch me delivering these to my associates. But that's where You come in.'

"I hated that guy, but made sure I didn't show it. He was the one responsible for my predicament, and his haughty tone only served to accentuate my loathing. Yet, I was very afraid; I didn't know if I would escape this alive. Even if there were no mishaps, I feared they would kill me to protect themselves.

He took a long breath, and released it in a sigh,

"We arrived at the destination soon. Before he got off, Shaz exchanged his briefcase with the one Ash had left inside. I saw Rob waiting nearby; he approached me and got inside as Shaz was leaving. There was no sign of recognition on his or Shaz's face. He ordered me to go back to their hideout.

"He ensured that we weren't being followed and then opened the briefcase. There was a momentary gleam in his eyes, but he hid it as soon as he saw I was noticing him. As we got away, I saw the car following Shaz stop in front of the place he had got off. There were people getting off. But I turned left and couldn't see any more.

"Rob got off with the briefcase as we reached the hideout. I looked at him with extreme apprehension. I have never been more afraid, bhaisaab. But he just reminded me not to breathe a word to anyone else, and then turned away."

The autowallah paused for a moment and continued in a voice heavy with emotion,

"I cannot express to you the relief I felt when I watched him go. I drove away as fast as I could; nobody followed. I was free.

"Since that day, I have been living in dread of seeing them again. When you opened that briefcase, I thought you were one of them."

There was a long silence. Naresh couldn't think of what to say. He blurted out, "So, you didn't tell the authorities?"

"No, bhaisaab. I told a few friends about this and they advised me not to go to the police. They say there are informers within the police."

"But then, why do you keep staying here?"

"I cannot leave. Not until I have made for myself a proper living. I don't think I'll see them again. They would have killed me otherwise. I won't return to my village worse than I was when I left it."

Naresh looked outside. The city appeared to him much more familiar now. Behind the shining mask, it was hollow, ridden with disease, poverty and crime . Now and then he could discern shoddy buildings, filthy huts, and angry, troubled people. No longer could he see pride on their faces: it was replaced with worry and hidden sorrow.

The hotel arrived. The fare was Rs. 65; but Naresh paid the autowallah the spare Rs. 80 he had with him. He went to his room and prepared for the conference, but couldn't concentrate. The conference was trivial; he didn't have to do much. Probably this is why they sent me here.

Naresh woke up early next morning to catch the train that was to carry him back. He prepared himself, signed out of the hotel and caught an auto to CST. During the journey, he kept looking outside and thinking about the city and its people. The autowallah kept returning to his mind.

Thus lost in thoughts, Naresh was surprised to find CST approaching. He looked at his watch. It was only 10 minutes since he had left. The auto stopped. He looked at the fare. It was Rs. 23.

Birthday Wishes.

It was just another Monday morning at the Kurla station in Mumbai. The platform was dirty, smelly and filled with people, vendors and beggars. Trains stopped by every now and then, hardly for a few seconds. A distorted female voice would announce the train in Marathi and Hindi. A horde of people would jump out from the heavily loaded second class coaches, and an even larger number somehow managed to get inside. Nobody wanted to wait.

However, today, Raghav Dutta didn't care about the pain he had to endure when he travelled to work at a small business firm in Mahalaxmi. As usual, he reached the platform by 8:30 AM and boarded the 8:43 AM slow local towards Dadar. As soon as he boarded his usual second class coach, his commute friend Rakesh greeted him.

"You seem awfully jovial today, Raghav. What's the matter? Did you finally convince your boss about that salary raise? "

"Today's my daughter's 17th birthday. She has been yearning for a cellphone for months now. I'm going to buy one today after work and surprise her as I reach home."

"That's wonderful! But how's your daughter? You said she was down with fever last Friday."

"Haan, she wasn't well the last week. Her fever wouldn't respond. The doctor said that it was just normal viral fever, and prescribed some medicines. She's better now. It's good that she has summer vacations, or else she would worry about her schoolwork. Poor child, she has to stay in bed the whole day. She hasn't many friends nearby, either."

"You sure care about Payal a lot. A lot of people with your salary wouldn't even think of buying a mobile phone."

"She was very young when her mother died. She had no one to care for when she was growing up. She's the only one I've got. I feel guilty because I cannot give her much attention and care due to my work."

Rakesh felt strange. Raghav seemed cheerful, but sounded depressed. He never seemed so melancholy about his wife's death before. Maybe it was because of Payal's birthday. He replied,

"Yes, I know, my friend. I hope that Payal recovers soon."

Soon, Raghav got down at Dadar to change trains for another route towards Mahalaxmi. As usual, the relentless crowd at Dadar showed no remorse for the people getting down, and crushed them like a huge tidal wave. Rakesh watched his friend leave, battered and dusty, but knew that it didn't matter to Raghav today. Raghav's love for his daughter knew no bounds. Nevertheless, Rakesh felt that he needed to brighten up his friend's mood. He decided to surprise both of them.

It was about 8:30 PM when Rakesh reached the locality where Raghav lived. It consisted of a few 3-storey buildings, each containing 50 or so tiny flats. The surroundings were filthy and muddy, as there was a huge slum just besides the buildings.

Rakesh knocked on the wooden door. Raghav opened it.

"Rakesh! What a pleasant surprise! I didn't expect this at all."

Rakesh again felt the strange note in his voice.

"I bought a present for your daughter. Where is she?"

"Come over here. She's still sleeping. But soon she'll wake up. She's really weak. Payal beta, look who's here for your birthday."

Rakesh felt awkward when he saw Payal. When Payal didn't respond to her father's call, he came closer to the bed. He panicked. Trembling, he reached for the phone in his pocket.

The doctor confirmed that Payal had been dead for about 40 hours. Further investigation revealed that she had died due to ingestion of a potentially dangerous drug. This drug was erroneously supplied by the local dispensary instead of the drug which the doctor had prescribed.

How to Study like an IITian

To begin with, there are two kinds of people. Those who have read Five Point someone and those who haven't. Now those who have read think they know how hard it is to score marks in iit but still they are as clueless as the ones who have no prejudices about the topic of the article.

As it turns out there are a lot of delusions about how IITians study- so in the interest of improving the level of information on the internet and in public interest allow me to expatiate.

First things first. As a First Commandment that every IITian must play second fiddle to is never do anything before the last minute. If any assignment is to be submitted at 1600 hrs finishing it before 1545 is a blasphemy and thinking of finishing it before 1520 is like the concerned guy is from another universe pretending(as awful a masquerade as that) to be in a human form. Lab reports, however lengthy they are and the complex calculations they involve are meant to be started the night before its due. The time to begin scales down depending on the length of the report and on occasions the mission is accomplished in the lunch break after which its to be submitted. Well you get the point, I assume.

Those who genuinely buy books are seriously endangered species, almost on verge of extinction. Others get the books through "jugaad", photocopies, through seniors and not returning the library books on time.[:P]. The concept of Class Notes is a quickly diminishing one with its takers declining faster than the cash in recession times. And are distributed and photocopied throughout the exam time repeatedly. The whole system is brought to a standstill in the exam time.

Now comes the night before the exam. All the preparations are done. By preparation I mean all the notes are photocopied, assignments are arranged and everything useful is available. Thankfully enough a generous "doppelganger"(the ones mentioned before as from another universe) has informed them of the whole syllabus. Now during the night they would start with the notes covered in class in about a month, plus the assignments ,if time permits and then carry on till the morning so that they can score enough marks to bail them out of the course.

The time devoted to self-study in the interval between two different midsems??? Well self-study is something that is to be adjusted between video games, chatting, TV series, movies, sleep, extra- currics and a few classes.
Hope this helps.

P.S. This is my first satirical post. Do comment if you like anything about it.

The charisma of Solitude

"Solitude, though it may be silent as light, is like light, the mightiest of agencies; for solitude is essential. All come into this world alone; all leave it alone. "

Though social enough, i prefer being alone as my profile says. And to mention it ,its not about any girl or love or sorrow that makes me like that ,but here I shall discuss the magic of being alone ; or with one person.

Whenever I am with friends , a 'gang', in other words ; we share jokes, speak slangs, make fun of each other and almost die out laughing. It acts as a great stress buster. They make you forget your wildest of traumas in just a few minutes. Depression definitely makes its way out of mind, but only for a while. Its like a cigarette .The moment you leave it ,that relaxation disappears. Serious issues often vanished in fumes in these moments ,but not in reality ,so they had to return to me, once those nice moments ceased.

But with one trustworthy person, I can discuss my woes ,seek opinions, it gives me all the warmth I need, and its not another cigarette ,the advice persists and beneficial many a times. Quite often the discussions alone have steered to solutions of continuous troubles persisting in life ,and many a time as productive ones, too resourceful a tool for personal development in the years to follow. The laughter also shared in these moments is calm, but mind boosting .

Another thing done alone is reading those fantastic novels ,an ultimate platform for me into writing and enjoying the thrills accompanying it. Pondering over certain topics going wrong in life ,can be often magical and lead to pretty wise decisions .And then comes writing alone and alone.

Also Solitude brings me a fantastic chance to rejuvenate myself, exhilarate a new life and get my focus back. It offers me the solution to everything that I am stuck with, also allow me just to calm down a bit after a frantic day and gives me the chance to spend time with mysel.

But that doesn't mean I don't like being parts of gangs ,I love to be ,but with the exception of a few times ,when the magic lies ahead in discovering some things, awaited in life smoothly and calmly.