Threats

Loki – I have an army.

Tony Stark – We have a Hulk.

Vijay – Aaj mere paas bangla hai, gadi hai, paisa hai! Tumhare paas kya hai?

Ravi – Mere paas Maa hai!

Friend – I’m hungry. Let me eat that sandwich you are having.

Me – Step away from the sandwich, or I will beat your fucking teeth out.

Threats have always been an unwanted yet critical part of life. In fact, if you think about it you hear them every day; in the bus, the workplace or the public bathroom lines. Threats are that one singular moment where you can be reminded of your family,

Man standing in bathroom line – Saale jaldi bahar nikal varna tere maa behan ek kar dunga!

bank balance,

Conductor – Bus ticket khareedne ki aukaat hai toh chadh ke dikha!

And IQ level.

Boss – I was thinking of hiring the cockroach feeding on cow dung as your replacement. Your ideas do seem to match. In retrospect I feel his are better.

So why is it that we subject people to threats and vice versa?

Is it a sign of weakness that we have to resort towards the terrorization of a person’s mental being rather than working things out with more calm means?

Is it because we feel threatened so, as bestowed by Mother Nature, we use these means as a reflex?

The answer is unknown to me. But if you do have the answers let me know, else you will surely be reminded of your family, bank balance and IQ level.

Book Review

Through the dawn of the ages we have been exposed to all sorts of literature, each managing to evoke a different emotion within us. But there were some that not only struck a chord but left a permanent imprint on us. These were not just merely good books but literary masterpieces. While the definition of a truly remarkable book may differ from one individual to another, here are some books which have universally been proclaimed as pièces de résistance.

1. Animal Farm

The year 1945 say the death of innocence through many Jews like Anne Frank, the death of malevolence through Adolf Hitler and the death of dark days through the conclusion of the Second World War. However, these significant deaths bestowed upon us the birth of literary genius through George Orwell’s ‘Animal Farm’. Set in a straight out of the books English farm called ‘Manor Farm’, it describes the monotony struck and wretched lives of the animals residing there. And just when degradation sets in, revolution and elevation enter their lives like a sudden gush of wind. With a human free life the animals expect a life that would now and forever continue to be astounding. But future events lead to show that it is not the good but the cunning who lead the life everyone yearns for. ‘Animal Farm’ is that very satirical story of the strong suppressing the weak and through the mask of animals tells us how even we humans are no less than those suppressed beasts of burden.

2. The Old Man and the Sea

After exhibiting the world the complexities of war through classics like ‘A Farewell to Arms’ and ‘For Whom the Bell Tolls’, acclaimed author Ernest Hemingway introduced simplicity into his writing through ‘The Old Man and the Sea’. Published in 1952, ‘The Old Man and the Sea’ became an instant rage and classic. The story revolves around the life of Santiago, an old fisherman slowly degrading both in form of life and luck. Gone 84 days without catching any fish, it seems that lady luck has simply refused to help out Santiago. However, where luck fails him, willpower moves Santiago forward with hope that he indeed will catch a marvellous fish. What follows is an epic battle between Santiago’s determination and a giant marlin. It is a story not of miraculous luck or victory through desire, but one that speaks of triumph of the ‘self’.

3. Life of Pi:

Is it possible to conclude that a world of delusional fantasies and absolute paranoia can make a book, one with a happy ending? This is one integral question the reader has to answer in Yann Martel’s 2001 novel ‘Life of Pi’. Through the eyes, ears and inner thoughts of Piscine Molitor "Pi" Patel, Yann Martel takes us through the gruesome journey and mental metamorphosis of a shipwrecked boy. However, what makes ‘Life of Pi’ distinguish itself from any other novel of the same essence is the introduction of wild animals as Pi’s shipmates. It’s a battle field in the desolated life of a shipwrecked boy specially when it comes to survival, and in ‘Life of Pi’ it is not just a battle field but a ‘jungle’ out there.

4. The Road

Death, disease, starvation, emaciation, suffering, struggle and more than anything immense love and innocence is what awaits the reader in Cormac McCarthy’s 2006 novel ‘The Road’. It follows the lives of a father-son pair trying to make ends meet in a post-apocalyptic world where food is scarce and humanity... rare. While the reader gets immersed into the depression and void filled world of cannibalism, decomposing bodies and decomposing souls; the only ray of flickering hope comes from the love between the father and son who till the end of the novel remain unnamed. It is the immense love and dying hope of the father and the immense love and strong compassion and hope of the son that makes ‘The Road’, the classic must read book that it is today.

5. The Story of Edgar Sawtelle

Shakespeare was not a writer; he was a magician because only a true magician could compose plays and poems which were each legendary in their own right. But what would you call a writer who manages to recreate the same, if not greater, magic that Shakespeare did? David Wroblewski can be called that one person. His debut novel ‘The Story of Edgar Sawtelle’, published in the year 2008, proved this fact in phenomenal ways. Based on the classic play Hamlet, ‘The Story of Edgar Sawtelle’ brings back to life love, tragedy, murder, deceit and most of all sweet old revenge.

Belief

A very long time ago in a little town called Cockadoodledooville, lived a young chick named Sam. Sam’s life was straight out of the stereotypical ‘chicken’s life’ book. His mother, like the other mother hens in Cockadoodledooville, worked in the hatchery and his father, like the other father roosters in Cockadoodledooville, worked in the local pillow making factory. It was a set norm in Cockadoodledooville that every hen would work in the hatchery and every rooster in the factory.

Sam’s father (Rex) loved his job. What a manly job it was to stuff those fragile, cottony feathers into the grainy pillow covers. It made Rex feel more of a man every day and he couldn’t wait for the day when Sam would be on his way to do the same. Sam on the other hand had no interest in becoming a pillow maker. His true passion lied in Cocka-doodle-doo-ing. The thought of waking everyone up the moment the first ray of light hit the sky gave him an adrenalin rush like no other grain of corn could give. He believed that he would excel at it and make a name for not only himself but also for his family and town.

But no one in Cockadoodledooville understood his passion and no one stood by his belief. Everyone abused him whenever he cocka-doodle-d, calling him ‘chicken’. His parents would yell at him, tried to put some sense into him but he wouldn’t budge. He didn’t need the consent of anyone to strengthen his belief system.

One day, Sam decided that it was best to leave this dead end town, where nothing was left for him. He would leave the next day at the break of dawn to the farm a few kilometres away from Cockadoodledooville. So as the sun opened its eyes to the new day, the citizens of Cockadoodledooville opened their ears to the cocka-doodle-ing of Sam; and what a sound that was. It removed any trace of laziness that remained in the bodies of the people of Cockadoodledooville and they felt excited about this new day. Everyone understood it was Sam who was the source of this exquisite sound and realised the folly they had committed. They rushed out of their nests to stop Sam from leaving. But it was too late, they could already see him crossing over to the other side.

Today Sam’s success is still in the history books of Cockadoodledooville. Every chick in Cockadoodledooville now dreams big. Even today they ask ‘Why did the chicken cross the road?’ to which everyone unanimously answers ‘Because he believed that he could get to the other side’.

ME

Sitting in class I am conjuring up thoughts
I try to think of things that make me stronger and at the same time weaker?
How do I answer this riddle?
How do I answer who is Me?
Me, me, me…. Who are you me?
Answer: Food silly!
Me: How?
Answer: Think love think!
Me: Hmm … eureka!
My legs aren’t legs anymore
They look like pears- fat from the top slim from the bottom
My stomach isn’t my stomach anymore
It is a rajma/bean- Fat accumulated at the ends and a deep indention from the middle showing my jeans marks left behind
My hands aren’t hands anymore
They look like an apple stem, the only thin part in a globe of fat
I look at my face
My face… it’s still the same
I smile yup the only part in my body that despite not being food still looks delicious.

The Tsunami and Neo

Not many people can say that they have come face to face with a tsunami and live to tell the tale. However, I am one of them. Yes, it’s true. I have gone through a tsunami and believe you me it was one of those moments in my life that I will never forget. The tsunami that I had faced was the one that took place in Mumbai in the year 2007. Don’t get confused my intellectual friend. The tsunami did take place. However, the only reason most people do not know about it is because of the lack of media coverage. That’s where I come in. For me every story, be it big or small, is news worthy! While there were no casualties recorded, there was one person who was badly injured out of embarrassment. Her name: Priyanka Joshi.THE DAY I MET THE BOMBAY….NO….MUMBAI TSUNAMI It was a beautiful day. It had just stopped raining and my college had just gotten over. ‘Adios dear educational monument of doom! I shall meet you tomorrow to kill some more brain cells!’I look at the bus stop. ‘Sigh ... buck up Priyanka. This is your only choice for the next 2 years.’ I cross the road while at the same time avoid the bullet like pan spit coming out of the auto walla’s mouth. Damn it! A little bit of it has fallen on my leg. I engrave the rickshaw’s number in my head. ‘We shall meet again my friend… we shall meet again!’I reach the stop and take out the only source that brought me salvation, my iPod. I close my eyes and try to avoid looking at the two dogs humping each other, the couple who will be doing the same at night, the beggars who are pointing at me and laughing and the toothpick shaped illiterate women who are doing the same. I open my eyes and suddenly notice a huge puddle right next to me. Hmmm… I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before. Puch… three men simultaneously spit in the puddle. I look at the white, bubbly, foamy specs of spit swirling around the puddle. The shapes are almost psychedelic. I fall into a trance. After what seemed like hours of daydreaming, I come back to earth and suddenly realize that a bus is approaching me…. fast. However, the trance had stopped my ability to think. I could not contemplate what would happen next. The bus screeched to a halt but not before it passed over the puddle. Suddenly time started moving like a hot summer day, painfully slow. The puddle transformed into a tidal wave and started approaching me. I could see everything in slow motion. I had entered the matrix. The tsunami was coming down on me. I could see the spit, the animal urine, the insects and the dirt mixed in the wave. How I wished I could be Neo for that moment so that I could fly away.However, unlike Neo I was not the One. The tsunami hit me hard. I was drenched from top to bottom. I could feel the mud on my head, the spit sliding off my ear lobes and the immense heat of embarrassment seeping out of my cheeks.I slap myself. It’s not a dream. I open my eyes. The two dogs mid hump were staring at me, the couple mid kiss was staring at me, the beggars mid laugh were staring at me and the toothpicks mid vomiting their food were staring at me. What do I do?! What do I do?! I look at the sky. Maybe just maybe Neo might fly down and take me away. The sunlight suddenly hit my eyes I look away and I get the message. The message sent by Neo. The message was that ‘Priyanka I’m sorry I can’t be here to save you but I have sent something that looks like me.’The ‘something’ was right there in front of me. An auto rickshaw. It was black like Neo’s clothes. It had a driver wearing black shades, like Neo. It had a green MATRIX (sim card) sticker on the glass. ‘Neo! You love me! You really love me!’Without a second thought, I jumped into the Neo/Auto and sped my way home. With a single tear in my eye and a little wad of spit on my ear lobe I reach home with my faith in love and Neo reconciled.

My attempt at serious writing

Her eyes are droopy,
She hasn't slept for a while.
Her jeans feels loose,
She has been starving for a while.
She looks at her naked body in the mirror,
She doesn't like the monster in front of her.
She tries,She fails.
Monotony. She dreads it.
Monotony. She is part of it.

She looks across at him,
A quick glance.
He is with her, she notices.
A single drop of blood escapes her eye.
She tries to stop it,She fails.
The drop of blood rolls down her check.
Her viens are on fire.
The drop of blood is burning into her skin.
It is traling down her neck,Her clavicle,Her chest.
It finally seeps into her heart.
She sighs.
Monotony. She is used to it.

Swine flu

I had taken all the precautions! What went wrong? Yes, I was always an easy target for the common cold virus but couldn't they have chosen a better time to infect me?! Yes, I got a cold and boy was I dreading every minute of it. I close my eyes and try to convince the rusty wheels in my head to work. I look at the clock. It's 7:30. Damn it! I have no time left to think! I run to the bathroom, try to unclog my nose and throat to the best of my ability, hug my mom and make sure she knows that I love her (who knows if I'll ever be able to meet her again), take a final glance at my home and set out to do the impossible.I'm at the station. So far so good. I haven't coughed or sneezed till now. The sun is blazing. A single drop of sweat trickles down my cheek. I hear the train. My heart beat quickens. I look at my left hand. I find the colorful handkerchief carefully placed. I look at my right hand. I find the razor reflecting of small flicks of light telling me its ready to face any Medusa today. Yes.. I'm equipped and ready. The train tries to steady itself. The people ready themselves. I look around. I see a woman positioning herself to enter the compartment. I see a man scratching/groping his crotch while looking at the woman. I see a crow shitting on the man. I smile. The train halts. I hold my breath, stroke my nose and neck as a symbol of love. Help me out today dearies. I enter the compartment.It's the same monotonous rituals I always have. A girl with long, frizzy hair stands in front of me ensuring her frizzy hair enter my nose and mouth. A woman taps on my shoulder, "Andheri?". I move my head left to right. She pushes me and moves forward. While on any other day I would have elbowed the woman who pushed me and made the woman who was standing in front of me bald (and believe me I would have enjoyed that!), I had important things to do today. Khar arrives. Half the train gets empty. Wow, my sensory organs are on my side today. Nothing has happened up till now. Could I really be this lucky. Past experiences say no. Maybe today is a new day. This might be a sign. I should start being an optimist. Maybe I am one of the lucky few. Maybe I a... oh oh! The bouquet of frizzy hair in front of me are tickling my nose. No get away! Let me bask in my glory! Let m... AAHAAHAAHCHOOOOO!!!!Terror.... blood chilling terror. All I see is red. I close my eyes. Do I dare... do I dare look up. I dare. A million little retinas are focused on me. I feel the glares. I'm burning. They are burning me. I feel the holes starting to appear on my body. I feel like a vampire standing in the middle of a desert at 12:00 p.m.. I am melting. My hands turn into fists. I feel the soft velvety handkerchief and the sharp blade. The sharp blade.. the sharp blade... THE SHARP BLADE! I have a weapon. Come whosoever dares to confront me. I grin. The glares reduce in succession. They know I'll do it. I grin. My station has arrived. I jump. I run. I laugh.One week later:Ah! My nose and throat are completely unclogged. I can smell the disgusting odors again. I can sing again! The sun blazes it's blessings down on us. A single drop of sweat trickles down my cheek. I hear the train. The train tries to steady itself. The people ready themselves. I look around. I see a woman positioning herself to enter the compartment. I see a man scratching/groping his crotch while looking at the woman. I see the woman slapping the man. I smile.I enter the compartment. Monotony. A girl is standing next to me. She sneezes. I glare.