tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73838520002987068662024-03-14T00:33:59.643-07:00 The Inner Storm.........Unabated......ANSHUMANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01549116518292672804noreply@blogger.comBlogger33125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383852000298706866.post-63616546534576503752019-08-03T21:25:00.001-07:002019-08-03T21:27:36.735-07:00What is going on in Kashmir? <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After being asked the
above <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>question fourth time in my office
lift, I have finally sat down to pen my thoughts.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Firstly, to all dedicated
citizens of India, I will recommend that one should neither try to understand Kashmir
conundrum nor try to speculate over it. Because no good has come to any one
with their association with Kashmir. The roots of this problem are too deep for
anyone to spend time and understand it properly and the other issue is “Kashmiris”.
Kashmir and Kashmiris have a different culture, a different language and a very
different outlook, which you may point out is the case with every-other state. But
what you forget is there are other facets of Kashmiryat too. One, the closeness
to Pakistan and another Islam. This makes a seemingly simple linear equation
into a full-fledged lagrange theorem that too in Urdu, so good luck to you. In
the meanwhile, if you have other important things to do, such as buying the
correct liquid detergent for your washing machine, do that first.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Let’s begin with some news items.</div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Okay, what to make of this?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Imagine, Mr. Geelani has guests
in his house. It is a normal get-together, season ending or season beginning. Mr.
G is sitting with his Hurriyat pals on a sofa. Plates, full of savories, are
jostling for space on glass topped table. Mr. G has one eye on wall
mounted 56” TV on his left and another on Mirwaiz. Anyways, suddenly, he finds everyone
is getting some or the other ping on their mobiles. There is a commotion and then a shush, as if
someone has died. Mr. G is trying to refresh his inbox. But there is no new message.<o:p></o:p></div>
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One by one, people come and shake
Mr. G’s hands and ask permission to leave. Mr. G looks around at his family
members, who are eyeballing him with the same intensity. No clue says their
blank expressions. <o:p></o:p></div>
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One the way out, you finally manage
to get hold of a guest and while he is tying his shoelaces and reads the <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>message. It is a one-liner.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>“Leave quickly. For your own
safety.”<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Government of Kurdistan</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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Now, blood drains from G’s face. <o:p></o:p></div>
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He feels dejected, offended,
insecure and a whole lot of other emotions.<o:p></o:p></div>
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What are your thoughts?<o:p></o:p></div>
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This means that government feels
that your home is unsafe for the visitors, but you can stay. We don’t
care about you.<o:p></o:p></div>
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What is Mr. G thinking?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Am I not the citizen of this
country? <o:p></o:p></div>
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Yes, technically you are. You may
be sharing meme videos of Modi ji and Arnab ji, but no can deny that you are a
citizen. You may have received money from Pakistan to fire up the <o:p></o:p>Anti-India sentiments in the people. You may be still getting the pension from Indian government and protection, but you still are a citizen.</div>
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So, how would you react to this
situation. That means, government has decided to bifurcate the citizens into two
categories. Good Citizen & bad citizen<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Good Citizens: Amarnath Yatris/Tourists/People
from Indian Mainland<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Bad Citizen: <o:p></o:p></b><b> Kashmiris<Majority community><Terrorist Sympathizers> <OGWs><Salafists></b></div>
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<b>Can Govt. do that? As it turns </b><b> out, they already have.</b></div>
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Have you seen Breaking Bad? I asked one of my colleagues during Tea break .</div>
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Yes, he replied. </div>
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Do you remember a scene when Walter White's wife comes to his temporary flat and tells him that she is worried about his safety? </div>
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Oh yes! that was a epic scene.</div>
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Reply from Walter White, a drug kingpin to his worried wife, Skyler.</div>
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<b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: left;"> "</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: left;">I am</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: left;"> the danger, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: left;">I am the one who knocks</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: left;">" </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: left;">."No, you clearly don't know who you're talking to, so let me clue you in. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: left;">I am</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: left;"> not in danger, Skyler."</span></b></div>
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For the context Mr. G is White. </div>
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Is it ok?? Well, if you look at
it from the constitutional glasses or use your common sense. It doesn’t seem
right. But, if you are a person who has been following Kashmir issue since the
day he learned to read, it makes sense. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Firstly, the credibility of an
RSS backed Govt. is linked with the safe conduction of Amarnath Yatra. Any
incident during will send the message that Govt. is not aware of the ground
conditions. Secondly, terrorists also make a point to disturb the yatra, since
it is a symbol of the erstwhile and now non-existent secular fiber. Amarnath
Cave is a motif that Kashmir was not always like this, it was a Vedic Hindu
Civilization which was eroded by the marauders and looters who came and
destroyed every secular molecule in the society.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Govt. is not bothered by the day-in
day-out ding-dong battles between Terrorists and Security forces. But should a so
called “Amarnath Yatri” be harmed, that will be a huge setback.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So that is that. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Other part is the huge deployment
of Security forces:<o:p></o:p></div>
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I think here I may have to take a
pause and think. In my living memory I have never seen Kashmiri Leadership so
confused or disoriented. I am reading the tweets of Omar Abdullah and Mehbooba
and they are shitting bricks. They are not getting anything out of South-block.
No eavesdropping. No Iftar, No freebies. It is a new regime. This regime has
kicked the bull in its balls by taking over the control of J & K Bank<read
about it><o:p></o:p></div>
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Is it good or bad?<o:p></o:p></div>
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I think it is good. Kashmiri
leader<Looters> have been put into their places. Separatists are no longer
being treated as demi-gods and government is being run from Delhi. But all this
will work only when something happens for real. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Yo!! What you mean by real? What
about 35A and 370?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Good question. I am no constitutional
expert. But, even if Govt. abrogates these articles, there will be no change. A
problem which has lasted over seven decades doesn’t get over in 7 days. It takes
time, power, dedication and a shrewd planning. Well, yes, I am talking about
Amit Shah, first of his name, dhokla eater, UP Caste engineer, master
strategist and sometimes Home-Minister as well.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Looking at the current situation. I don’t see a plan or a scheme behind it. I see chaos. I see leaks of the memos. I see bizarre statements. Someone must have started with a plan but has now dropped the ball.<br />
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My best guess is that all this
will go away in another couple of weeks and all will be back to normal.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But the ball has started to roll,
and it will not stop. It will gather speed and it may bring some difference to the
lives of millions of people affected by the Kashmir Conundrum and crush the
ones who are running it as an industry. When? How? Only time will tell.<o:p></o:p></div>
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ANSHUMANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01549116518292672804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383852000298706866.post-37021673914472080222018-02-18T10:12:00.001-08:002018-02-19T04:52:41.397-08:00Let the Magic Begin!!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NCxk5yLba24/WorG9MLN_hI/AAAAAAAACv4/2E1zqlXQqigVlEc4RTj3s_oECChe2VXiACLcBGAs/s1600/patrick-fore-381196.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NCxk5yLba24/WorG9MLN_hI/AAAAAAAACv4/2E1zqlXQqigVlEc4RTj3s_oECChe2VXiACLcBGAs/s400/patrick-fore-381196.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Hi,</div>
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I stopped writing about 2.5 years ago. Why? </div>
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I guess I didn't like the smell of my own shit. Weird huh!!</div>
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Well, that happens right!! Self-doubts, low self-belief and mostly poor sentence construction and grammar issues. </div>
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Have I overcome those? Naaa, still work-in-progress. So, why am I writing again?</div>
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I think I have a sane explanation for that at least. Writing when taken as a job or as a serious vocation becomes impossible for me. It simply ceases to be fun for me. </div>
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One more reason for not having written much from last 2.5 years is that I became better at managing my emotions, hence I stopped using my blog as my refuge. So, guys bring out your reading glasses and your coffee mugs because it is going to be a long read. My fingers are working on an auto-mode. The process is so fast I am unable to keep up with it. I am barely able to breathe. God! Have I missed it? </div>
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It is like touching yourself again after a month-long "celibacy" vow minus the sticky part.</div>
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I have no idea what I am going to write and that is the best part of blogging. No-Fucking-Deadline. Not trying to be the Bard here.</div>
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What is going on in the world??</div>
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We had some crazy shooting in the US again. Down with NRA. Another Modi Scammed us? We had some fidayeen attacks in the city, just another day at work for Army.</div>
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What else? </div>
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Has anybody read what happened in our beloved UP for God's sake. 1 million kids walked out of Board exams just because some two-bit Yogi decided to film them. WoW!! That must have been some kind of world record right? Plus, he has got these criminals running for their lives. So, some change finally in the land of Yadava's. </div>
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Modi Ji has been hugging almost anything that walks. He has got the plain old hand-shakes out of the fashion. I think except Angela Merkel, Michelle Obama and Jashodaben(His estranged wife) the 56-inch chest has managed to warm its way to everyone. One thing we have to appreciate about Modi Ji is his unbound energy. He is always in a campaign mode. I often say this to my friends, if it comes to Nawaz Bhai vs Narender Bhai in any state of Pakistan, I will still bet my money on Narender Bhai. He can win elections anywhere, against anyone. He and his Sam Boswell- the killer of the judges can do anything to get the required number of votes be it electronically or otherwise. They even defeated UK in a UN election. As far as Amit Shah is concerned, I must say he will make the best Chief of Election Commission. Well, no one can con him, for he wrote the damn book.</div>
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I sometimes wonder, how deep is their friendship. Is it platonic or something which the Vatican may find offending to their "high" moral platitudes. </div>
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How would you describe the Vatican to a novice?</div>
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A sanctuary of Paedophiles, right?</div>
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Fuking, double standards!! The Vatican pushed back science at least by 2 centuries and because of their anti-abortion stance added another couple billion to our burgeoning populace.<br />
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ANSHUMANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01549116518292672804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383852000298706866.post-50863651056642920482017-02-15T06:18:00.001-08:002017-07-15T09:22:03.971-07:00Bihar<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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One word which kept ringing in my head during my trip to Bihar was "unapologetic". Everything I saw or heard was in its raw form. There was no tact or attempted sweetness.</div>
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The Auto rickshaws did not wait for you to move off the road, but somehow without scratching you, they will pass right through. Driver will turn his eyes towards you for a brief second and then spit the pan on the other side. "Chawtiya" was his assessment of me followed by peels of laughter from the other c<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">ramped passenger whose one butt cheek was hanging like an overgrown pumpkin. I did not mind. Neither did I revert. I just smiled and walked. It was around 9 am. The market was already bustling. We stopped at a dingy sweet shop. The owner was sitting on a tall stool as if he was judging a tennis match between Rafa and Federer. We asked him the rates of the plates. He just showed us in and indicated V with his finger as his entire mouth was overloaded with Pan induced Saliva. The walls were never painted since Jay Prakash Narayan had died and nobody cared. Every time the man sitting on the stool wanted to call any waiter he would press on a spine-chilling ringer, I literally jumped off my seat. Waiters just smiled. This was their daily routine, no apologies, no thank you's, just plain and simple, unapologetic Bihar.</span></div>
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"khaana kha Liyeee"</div>
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ANSHUMANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01549116518292672804noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383852000298706866.post-79949765416749092692016-11-19T07:21:00.000-08:002016-11-19T07:35:11.611-08:00TORRENTS and KASHMIR<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-170RCbqeTHo/WDBv3QIjJQI/AAAAAAAAAdU/kwXLQ2fKH_8zF0aNY1cQNh6bsvkwxkvigCLcB/s1600/kick.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-170RCbqeTHo/WDBv3QIjJQI/AAAAAAAAAdU/kwXLQ2fKH_8zF0aNY1cQNh6bsvkwxkvigCLcB/s400/kick.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I don't know the name of the founder or the owner of the Kickass-Torrents site, and frankly, I never bothered about it. There was no Wikipedia entry on where he went to school. Did his ancestors come to America on a ship or an Alien craft? Nobody knows or cares. All I wanted is to just find the damn torrent, hook it to the Bit torrent and just wait till the download was complete. Nobody batted an eyelid and everything was hunky dory. I even thought it was all in good faith and purely legal. There were a couple of banners on the site saying get a VPN to avoid getting tracked. But, we the people of India are very well aware of the tech savviness of our Police. Plus, who gets arrested for downloading a movie. No one.</div>
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The site had so many amazing features, you could search the movie by the genre and even by the actor's name. I remember once searching for Collin Farell movies and stumbling upon a gem of a movie called <i>In Bruges</i>. What a movie it was. It was never released in India. None of my friends and immediate circle had even heard of it. I would have probably died in my late 90s without even watching it had it not for the kickass Torrents.</div>
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Now, that it is gone, I fondly recall it the way a man recalls his past flames during the mid-age crisis. A question comes to our mind, that why out of the blue was this gentleman, who was doing more good to people than the last 20 Presidents of United States of America combined, was arrested that too in a remote country in Europe. This rings a lot of bells.</div>
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Well, once again our friends in WikiLeaks have found the answer. The have gained access to the trove of emails exchanged between Kickass torrents and CIA. Without killing your perfect night with more boring emails, I will cut to the chase and explain the whole scenario in simple English.</div>
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It has come to light, that our hero and CIA had a pact, a long-standing one. In lieu of the immunity from any kind of prosecution, CIA wanted some simple coordinates from him. What they would do with those coordinates, well that was none of his business.</div>
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Every day millions of people would go to the site and download whatever caught their fancy. I want to believe that he never tracked the downloaders or anything like that. But, he could locate the source of the download if he wanted to and make a note of the IP address. The same, if used correctly could easily lead to the physical location. This was gold for NSA and CIA.</div>
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We all know what is happening in the Middle East. ISIS has occupied huge land mass, oil fields, and treasures. But, in all these war times, even terrorists want some relaxation. Even though ISIS Talent hunt team is working day and night to recruit more gullible girls, but the demand always exceeded the supply. Often these terrorists during night time, like many of us, used to open their laptops and go to the Kickass-Torrent site and look for the latest XXX video uploaded. This led CIA to their location, because who else would be downloading porn in the ISIS controlled Iraq.</div>
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This partnership went successfully for the last couple of years. But, something tipped off our hero and refused to be the source of these drone hits and he went AWOL. Unfortunately, not everyone is lucky as Snowden. He was caught on the border while exchanging his passport for a safe passage. Rest is history. Suddenly, we wake up and find that the site no longer works.</div>
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Kashmir:<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YLcK7inNpY4/WDBwEDR9sPI/AAAAAAAAAdY/E9IC8orTaI05S_2ZUGvSuKOSHxzCP7rCgCLcB/s1600/kashmir.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="345" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YLcK7inNpY4/WDBwEDR9sPI/AAAAAAAAAdY/E9IC8orTaI05S_2ZUGvSuKOSHxzCP7rCgCLcB/s400/kashmir.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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That was that and let's come back to India and try to understand what is actually going on in Kashmir from the last couple of months. Things have really gone from bad to bat-shit crazy in just a couple of months.</div>
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As far as Kashmiris are concerned the only major group or the section which they kind of fear is Jan Sangh, the erstwhile name of BJP-RSS cult. And it was only natural for them to react to the PDP-BJP coalition. If you see from the year 2008. There has been a cycle of some sort to bring every Chief Minister to his/her knees. It first started with Ghulam Nabi Azad, then Omar Abdullah and now Mehbooba. These separatists rake up one issue after other bringing the entire social machinery to a grinding halt. This is their leverage. That is why they are airlifted to AIIMS even for a butt- wart. They are invited to every Indo-Pak Banquet. This is their power. They want the Indian government to make a deal with them to stop shutting down their own city. And boy! haven't successive governments been just doing that?</div>
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It may come as a surprise to many, but there have been reports in the newspapers that Army officers negotiate for peace with the henchmen of these separatists. Imagine that. Money flows from the treasury to their coffers and for what?</div>
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But, this time around. We have a seasoned hawk in the PMO. Ajit Doval. The man who doesn't give in. He has actually called their bluff. How long can you shut-down? How long can you reimburse the common man for his loss of livelihood? How long can you expect people to support when your start burning the schools of their children? Just how long? It is 126 days now. And in this eyeball to eyeball situation the hawk eye of Doval is never going to blink.</div>
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All credit to PM Modi for having such no-nonsense people around him in PMO. He hand-picked Jitendra Singh as MoS PMO J&K State BJP unit. Jitendra Singh is a diabetologist who has been treating Kashmiri Pandits for almost two decades. After the migration, a huge percentage of Kashmiris unable to adjust to the new exile fell prey to hypertension, diabetes, and migraine. He has been a live witness to all this. One more thing about this gentleman. He has been a regular columnist for 25 years in the premier newspaper Daily Excelsior in J&K. Every Sunday I used to straight away turn to the editorial page to read his column <i>T</i><i>ravesty of truth.</i></div>
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And while one may be tempted to call him an arm-chair strategist, but his election record proves otherwise. He slam-dunked the former CM of Jammu and Kashmir, Ghulam Nabi Azad in a straight fight.</div>
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These two gentlemen, Doval and Singh, know the inside out of these separatists and are dealing with them the way it should be. They were the brain-trust behind the mention of Balochistan in the Independence speech of Modi. This took some heat off India regarding the Kashmir issue and put Pakistan under the international microscope.</div>
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My two paisa on this is that government should wait for this siege out. Let the people of the Kashmir understand that where would this stalemate lead them. Who is the real loser in this fight? Are separatists losing anything? Nope, they have their regular supply from the hawala. Their kids are studying in foreign countries. This stand-off only gives them international exposure. Is is the Indian government going to get affected? The truth is no. J&K is a heat sink. With their GDP they cannot even pay the salaries of the mammoth army of the Public Servants. The private sector is non-existent. 80% of the population doesn't pay the taxes So, for Indian it just means a change of plan for the summer vacations, nothing more. Hope this actually etches onto minds and they can see truth from bullshit.</div>
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ANSHUMANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01549116518292672804noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383852000298706866.post-41879984092626558862016-08-06T08:29:00.000-07:002016-08-06T08:29:56.962-07:00The cycle of Violence <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Another body was lowered in the ground in Kashmir. This time the direction of the violence was from the other end of the Jawahar tunnel, an area which is known as the safest place in Jammu and Kashmir. It is almost a garrison town, surrounded by Army cantonments and ranges. The summers are less harsh in this area. I am talking about Udhampur, the place where the two kashmiri truckers were attacked.<br />
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I don't know whether their actions warranted this kind of vicious attack, or the other technicalities of the case. But, what I am worried about is the cycle of violence that will get unleashed aftermath.<br />
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More coffins, more graveyards, more protests, more violence. Again and Again. This time it is the cow-meat debate, next it would be Quran desecration, cartoon from Denmark. In short, any thing which is out of normal will lead to a complete breakdown of the normal life in the Valley.<br />
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When are we going to look up, take out our head from this sand. Has any one single journalist ever asked Mr. Geelani where his kids are living. Are his children also a part of these protests. Are they leading some procession to the security forces camp? Have they endured the hardships of the police custody or anything remotely close to that? <br />
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How can Kashmiris be blind to these facts, the man who is claiming to be their messaih, has kept his kids and family safe in Dubai. Where they are living normal lives, working, studying far from the shutdowns, curfews, cross firings. <br />
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What have we gained in all these years except tears, death, blood shed. Is the lives of our youngsters so cheap, that we send them to pelt stones on the armed security forces.<br />
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Every time a kid gets killed or injured during the protests, instead of introspecting and halting the protests, we send another brain washed kid up the ladder. Another bullet gets fired, and somewhere some mother who doesn't know shit about the world politics ends up beating her chest as she looses the apple of her eye. Nobody can understand the pain of Kashmiri women. The have lost uncountable sons and husbands in this love triangle of militants, Pakistan and India since last three decades. <br />
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A leader brings stability and peace not death, he doesn't asks for your kids so that he can feed them to the bullets. We are at least 20 years behind any half-developed state in India. There is dearth of jobs, industries as well as opportunities.<br />
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Stop this cycle and let there be no more Zahids, or Shahids dying in the protests. We are the most politically aware state in India. Let's use our brains instead of hearts, let's forget the ghosts of the partition. Our future is hitched with India, the sooner we get that lesser the number of graveyards. Punjab is an shining example in front of us. Only public-will together with the support of the state police can end this scourge of militancy. No one else can do anything about it. <br />
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ANSHUMANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01549116518292672804noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383852000298706866.post-31478511363155973402016-08-06T07:48:00.003-07:002016-08-07T17:22:39.852-07:00Ikk Kudi Jeda naam......Udta-Punjab-Review<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EOHJnCPIGiA/V6X3IBilHoI/AAAAAAAAAbI/Nrng1LwncWQuFRoocSvkvwI6vJxZ9D66wCLcB/s1600/udta.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EOHJnCPIGiA/V6X3IBilHoI/AAAAAAAAAbI/Nrng1LwncWQuFRoocSvkvwI6vJxZ9D66wCLcB/s400/udta.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
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Finally, the mavericks at Phantom have started to churn out movies which can both stir the social curry as well as money counters. 38.8 Cr in the opening weekend must have been a big deal for the producers. It's been a long time since the money came in crashing for them.</div>
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Udta Punjab is a treat to watch, for a lot of reasons. Is it an unconventional movie?Yes. Is it entertaining?Yes. Does it have a message for the society? Yes. Does Alia have an item Song? No. Sorry. She was not paid that much or even Kareena for that reason. </div>
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The latent stench of a documentary has been well camouflaged behind the long flowing locks of Shahid Kapoor. Within ten minutes of the movie, you get a feel that the director means business. There is no excess social drama that usually forms the part of movies which are on Drug menace-A poor family with a little source of income and the main earning member hooked to the syringe-No, Sir. This one started right at the barbed Indo-Pak border of Punjab from where this stuff is pushed in.</div>
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Now, why of all states Punjab is hooked. Well, let me try to give you a concise explanation-Pakistan is our neighbor and its goal since inception has been the destruction of India. Now, once the top echelons of the Pak leadership realized that India cannot be fucked straight on, they took on the age old method of poisoning our roots, turning our people against us and smuggling every contraband ever invented by man. They first brought terror to Punjab. The Khalistan movement which was spearheaded by the legendary Bhindrawale was at its peak during the early eighties. Gurudwaras across were Punjab were agog with the chatter of the Sikh rebellion and formation of the separate Sikh country. Pakistan provided the movement with all the logistics and ammunition required.</div>
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Once <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jarnail_Singh_Bhindranwale">Bhindrawale</a> was killed in the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Operation_Blue_Star">Operation Blue Star</a> the movement died. But, my flatmate who is a Punjabi tells me that Bindrawala is still revered among the youngsters in Punjab as Sant Bhindrawale. Songs full of words like "Bhindrawaley tere peccche assi hainge" can still be heard in college dorms.</div>
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So, the next plan of Pakistan was to be the DTDC for the contraband manufactured in Afghanistan. From what I have heard is that one kg of stuff can be made for only 1000 rupees in Afghanistan. Its value shoots up to 1 million on crossing the Pakistan border and by the time it reaches it the barbed wire between India and Pakistan it costs 10 million rupees. So, it serves both the purposes, getting the entire generation hooked and generating huge profits. These profits are then reinvested in propagating the Jehadi sentiments among the tribal youth in Afghan-Pak border and sending them to suicide mission across Pir Panchal.</div>
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The trailers of the movie were too much focussed on the antics of the Shahid Kapoor, who I think had a very limited role in the movie. He was just a motif, a live example to make it easy for the audience to relate to the situation as well as a comic relief. For me, the main hero was the Daljit Dosanjh. Honestly, I had never even heard of Daljit before Udta Punjab. For Indians, everything is okay till the problem is outside the boundary walls of the house, but once the devil enters our house suddenly we are up in arms. This has been accurately captured through Daljit's character. </div>
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Initially, he was shown as the Police guy complaining about the low rates of bribes at the check posts. And when the same stuff nearly ended his brother's life, he came to his senses and together with a doctor (Kareena) started to expose the system. </div>
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From the sidelines, Punjab has been captured beautifully, the language, the rural settings and the scale of the issue. I guess a huge credit must be given to the screenwriters who made the camera cover all the aspects of this menace without once losing the flow for the audience. </div>
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For people who don't know the basics of the business got to see all spheres of the operations. The audience was exposed to the full supply chain of this operation. Right from the sourcing of the chemicals, manufacturing, transportation till distribution. Drugs trade or any illegal trade at such a large scale cannot stand without the express support of the administration and politicians.</div>
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In between this a parallel story of a young Bihari migrant girl was running its painful course. It was heart wrenching to see her plight. I think no actress could have done more justice to that difficult role than Alia Bhatt. At this point, you begin to appreciate the director's acumen. In all her movies, Alia Bhatt's "glamor" has been the main selling point. But, here she was without any makeup playing the role of a freckled and abused girl to the perfection. I am no expert but I found Alia's performance a new benchmark in Bollywood and she is still 23. </div>
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I think her suffering actually struck the chord with the audience and they must have left the cinema halls with heavy hearts and thinking how the fuck we let this happen to the Land of Five Rivers. </div>
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That is what should be the ultimate goal of a filmmaker. To expose the ugly side of the society and get a debate started on the issue. And mind you, this movie has exactly done it. There were full efforts by HIGHER powers to scuttle the release of the movie. But the makers stood their ground. Finally, the Censor board relented and it was released as per schedule without any cuts. Censor board got its revenge by leaking the copy on the internet, but that didn't hurt the movie much.</div>
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Any feedback and comments will be welcome.</div>
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I wanted to write Jason Bourne's review too, but I dozed off. But, you please go ahead and enjoy it.<br />
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For those who have not listened to the beautiful track, Ikk Kudi.<br />
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Here's the link:<br />
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hlg9rasdXcw<br />
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ANSHUMANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01549116518292672804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383852000298706866.post-9943824484258514052016-01-17T07:33:00.001-08:002016-08-07T08:10:59.811-07:00The Rage of Arjun<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="s1">Sun had already begun his descent. Maybe, he could no longer bear to look at the mayhem humans had created on the battlefield. Dead bodies of soldiers lying on the ground for miles. Hordes of Hyena’s and Vultures were fighting over the carcasses.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">The main architect of this carnage was not stopping even to take a breath as if some devil had taken hold of him. It was just difficult to digest the fact that a week ago same warrior refused to take up arms. Even the lord of three worlds who had reins of the horses in his hands looked perturbed. There was no stopping him. It seemed that Kauravas had already surrendered to his might.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Arjun’s quiver was fast emptying as the sunset was close. Kaurava foot soldiers were praying for the day to end. His deadly arrows have rained on them, piercing men and animals, earth and sky alike. It would take them all night to clear bodies which Arjun had left in his wake.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">It was the bloodiest day yet in the Mahabharata.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">On the other side of the Kurukshetra, the holy battlefield, other equally powerful warrior was getting the regular news on the exploits of Arjun, he was not too worried, though. “He is the only one, once I finish him, they will crumble like an aunt hill”, he thought.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Karan took out his lethal arrow, this arrow was a gift from a Sadhu he had once saved during floods. This arrow could pierce thousand people in one go and then return to the quiver same as before. He had planned to use it later but Arjun’s antics forced his hand. He wanted to finish the day at a high note for his Army.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">To access the arrow, he had to say solemn mantras which were taught to him by the Sadhu. For that he needed a moment. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">From a faraway place, Yudishtar sensed what Karan was doing. He thought of informing Arjun or Bheem, but then he realised he needs to stop Karan himself or it will be too late. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">He ordered his charioteer to take him close to Karan’s chariot. It didn’t take him long to get close to the mighty warrior and see him hand folded saying his prayers. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Yudishtar bought out his conch and blew it loudly to announce that he was challenging the mighty Karan. Everyone was surprised, nobody challenged Karan, that was the unwritten rule.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Karan opened his eyes, he was surprised to see Yudhistar standing in his chariot ready to fight.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">“Oh! mighty Son of Pandu, I hope you have not given up so soon”, Karan mocked him. “What brings you here? Turn back and I will not harm you. I don’t want Kunti to cry over you so soon.”</span></div>
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<span class="s1">“Mock me as much as you can, we may have come from the same mother but this evening world will know that those who stand with evil will eventually fall.”</span></div>
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<span class="s1">“Yudishtar, who is evil and who is not, is a tough question. We warriors do not concern ourselves with those questions. That is not our job. The hand that feeds us is the hand we abide by. Since, you have infuriated me, be prepared for the fury I am about to unleash.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">With this a barrage of arrows escaped from the bow of Karan and pierced every inch of the Yudishtar’s body, surprisingly they didn’t go that deep. They just drew a small amount of blood and pierced the skin, Those arrows were not meant to kill and Karan saw to that.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Yuidshtar’s charioteer was not that lucky, one stray arrow was enough to kill him. Pandav king was unable to stand up now. Karan got down from his chariot and helped him to stand, took off his metal vests and handed him over to his foot soldier.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">The news spread like a wildfire in both the camps. <i>“Karan sent the eldest Pandav brother without clothes and chariot". </i>It was was like honey to the Kaurava princes</span></div>
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<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Everyone was wary of Arjun’s reaction. Yudishtar was put up in the Vaidya tent. He was unable to even turn his head. Injury marks were all over his body, even the medicinal paste applied by the Vaidya couldn’t keep the pain in check. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Arjun had just returned from the battlefield. He was busy taking off his heavy armour, it took three people to lift that. He was about to sit to eat when Bheem barged and spilled the beans.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Arjun grabbed the nearest sword and ran out. Bheem tried to stop him, but the look in Arjun’s eyes rooted him in his place, he followed Arjun and sent the guard to Krishna to come fast. Bheem had this bad feeling. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Arjun could see nothing, anger had blinded his eyes, blood was pulsating in his ears. He could hear nothing. Hundreds of men tried to stop him, but they just found the ground. Arjun was like a mad elephant, trampling anything that came in his way.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">The naked sword in his hands wanted blood. Today was the day this ended, thought Arjun. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">As soon as he barged the attendants left the tent quickly. Yudishtar was stuck with fear.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">“I wish you had died on the battleground, I would have burned you proudly. But you have hung my head in shame today. Are you really our brother?"</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Arjun howled. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">“ He was summoning a lethal arrow, it would have killed a quarter of our army and there was no one to stop him.” Yudihtstar pleaded.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">“I killed 10 thousand men today and lost another half, this is war. Nobody will come alive out of it. It has swallowed the mighty Bheeshma and you think you saved a thousand men by running naked from Karan. What a laugh Kauravas must be having on your expense? Tonight I will finish what Karan has left unfinished. Let the world know that cowards have no place in this brave clan of Pandu”</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">“Arjunnnnnnnnnnn…….kill me if you want to, but hold your poisonous tongue. I have always followed Dharma”. Yudhistra had tears in his eyes.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">“Dharma!!!!!” Arjun started laughing loudly. "Which Dharma are you talking about? You are the root cause of every misfortune that has ever befallen our family. Who inspired you to play dice with that handicapped devil from the far east mountains? Was it the Lord Indra himself? Who gave you the authority to gamble our lives? Were we your slaves? and you were the reason Draupadi was disrobed in full public view while she was bleeding. The blood of all the people who have died since that day is on your hands and you talk of Dharma. Yudishtar, I will be surprised if you will find a place even in the underground. You will die a dog’s death and wander in the as a ghost. And today, I will see to it that you get that”.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">As soon as Arjun lifted the sword, Krishna appeared out of now where. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">“Parth, what are you doing?”</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">“Lord!! tell me why he should live after today. He ran away naked from our greatest enemy Karan. He is the black spot on our history and today I will have his head. From tomorrow onwards no one will be able to mock Pandava’s”.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">“What has gotten into you? You think just because you are the greatest warrior, that gives you the authority to mock everyone. He is your elder brother, in case you have forgotten.”</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">“ Lord, how can I forget it, but I would rather have Shikhandi as our elder brother. It is because of him we have been reduced to paupers. We do not have a single village to call our own. From last 12 years, our women and children are living like tribals. We sleep at night not knowing whether we will have a place to sleep tomorrow. We have trailed through darkest of the jungles, fought and killed half the demons there. When the real demon is lying in front of me. I want to end his life and mine next. I cannot have him sully the name of the Mighty Pandu anymore. I cannot live with this.”</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<br />
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
</div>
ANSHUMANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01549116518292672804noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383852000298706866.post-23206282801363652732015-04-04T06:42:00.000-07:002015-04-12T08:52:50.759-07:00Deja vu <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-twLt3mp33gg/VSobJmfWGFI/AAAAAAAAASM/G4YQxymvPL8/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2015-04-12%2Bat%2B12.21.43%2Bpm.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-twLt3mp33gg/VSobJmfWGFI/AAAAAAAAASM/G4YQxymvPL8/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2015-04-12%2Bat%2B12.21.43%2Bpm.png" height="228" width="400" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US">Mr. Rama
Reddy is a man of habits and punctuality. He is the village head or commonly
referred as the Sarpanch of his village named Pulluru. His village is one of
the hundred villages surrounding the town, YS Gate, which is again 15 KM away from
Chittoor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Mr. Rama
Reddy is about 6 feet in height, stout, and no extra flab. Years of working in field helps later in the
age. His sun brunt dark skin is the testimony for that. He has very prominent
wrinkles on his forehead. May be, he thinks too much. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Like all
mornings, Mr. Reddy again woke up today at sharp 6 AM. With his years of
discipline and will power, he no longer needs an alarm to wake him up. His eyes
would open exactly at 6 AM. This morning was no different.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">He unlocked
his gate first, took a round of his small garden in the courtyard. Filled the
water buckets and kept them in front of cattle. This took exactly 15 minutes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">At 6.15 AM
sharp, he was in his bathroom. Singing religious hymns, he poured two buckets
of cold water. He uses clay instead of soap. He was able to afford soaps after
his teenage years, but then couldn’t change. Old habits die hard.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">At 6.30 AM,
he was back in his room. He wore a well laundered and ironed Kurta and Dhoti.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Every day
after taking a bath, he cycles to the town YS Gate, which is 4 kms away from
Pulluro, where all other Village Heads congregate for chit-chats and
discussions. It was held at exact 7.30 AM every morning. For the last 15 years,
since Mr. Reddy became the Village Head, he has never been late and in fact,
never reached beyond 7.20 A.M. Punctuality was religious to him. During the
meeting they would drink strong filter coffee from the nearby stall. After 45
minutes, the meeting is over and without further ado; everyone proceeds to
their respective homes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Today, the
morning air had that chill which bore a bit of moisture in it. By the time Mr.
Reddy reached Gate, it was already cloudy. The clouds were darkish and a
downpour was on the cards. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Mr. Reddy
was so engrossed in the discussion; he was unaware that showers had already begun
outside. After the meeting, everyone huddled under the coffee stall.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">It was
already 10 minutes and there was no sign of rain abating. It has started
thundering also. Every one present started getting calls from their homes
checking for their whereabouts, except Mr. Rama Reddy. He gets very conscious
of this fact and starts fidgeting with his phone in his pocket. He also wanted his
wife to call him. He again checked; no vibration, no ring. Finally buckling under the peer pressure, he takes
out the phone and fakes a call to his wife, reassuring her that he was on his
way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The coffee
stall vendor pointed out this to others with his eyes. Everyone feels for him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Reddy was
furiously pedaling. His dhoti was splattered with mud. He didn't want to be late.
His wife always has breakfast with him. It was a sort of tradition. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Earlier
when there were no phones, his wife used to ask the people coming from that road
whether they had seen her husband. Someone may have seen him on the way,
talking to somebody or stopping by. Hearing this, she would still wait standing
at the door till she saw him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Then the
telephones came. She would call him at the meeting hall just when the meeting
was over. Now these bloody mobile phones.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“She doesn't bother at all; the old woman
wants me to call all the time, why can’t she call?” He was nodding his head
while cycling. At the same time, his one hand went to his chest pocket checking
for vibrations. He still wanted a call from her asking anxiously about his
whereabouts. He was mentally preparing answers to her questions; that it was
heavily raining or someone offered him coffee blah blah. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Even after
50 years of marriage, these things matter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Now he is
just 1 KM away from his home, completely drenched, rain has almost stopped. But
still the scowl was there on his face. “Today I will skip breakfast and not
speak to her for the whole day. That should teach her”, he was mumbling to
himself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"> Ahead of him is a funeral procession He had to
get down and walk besides his bicycle. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The constant and loud chanting’s of ‘RAM NAAM
SATYA HAI’ irritated him. “Why is Lord’s name irritating me”, he ponders.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Suddenly, he has a sort of Déjà vu. He
quickens his pace lest someone sees him. He moves ahead of the procession and
pedals very fast. Rain starts again from where it left. He is no longer hearing
the chants. He stops at the road side. </span>The whole stretch of road is empty. This
loneliness engulfs him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">He breaks
down into tears. He buries his face in his hands and cries his heart out.<i> <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span lang="EN-US">His wife died two months back.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></i></b>
<b><i><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></i></b>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<br /></div>
</div>
ANSHUMANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01549116518292672804noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383852000298706866.post-29037826625621347462015-03-10T22:36:00.002-07:002015-03-18T22:50:57.344-07:0010 people you would love to avoid at all costs<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">1. Nothing
can be more frightful than a demonic scorn of a pissed off girlfriend. In olden
days, it could have burnt you to the ground.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">2. Colleagues,
who side stepped you to promotion. You are no longer a big hug bunny to them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">3. Profs, whose
courses you flunked. You may be a big shot manager by now, but you will always
try not bump into him/her, during the alum meets.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">4.
Neighborhood Uncle and Aunt, who know your academic record like the Sachin’s
centuries. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">5. Relatives
and family friends whose wards have foreign degrees and their parents can’t
shut up about that; nor can yours.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">6. That one
cousin in your family, who shared the same crush as you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">7. Few
school and college friends, you no longer feel connected to. Just share few old
jokes and pass on mate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">8. Your weed dealer, if he is under arrest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">9.
Landlord, when you bring a girl over for a ‘Night Cap’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">10. Former
classmate, whose ‘Diaper-Delivering’ start-up just got a funding of 1 million
from a VC, while you bide your time napping in the cubicle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
ANSHUMANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01549116518292672804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383852000298706866.post-79667684307411135772015-02-22T04:32:00.002-08:002015-02-22T04:32:55.471-08:00Ishaan Square<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Misterr Ishaaaan
fucking Kauuuuuul” Ankita screamed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">” Another
mention of that bitch Nikita and I am going to kill you, she dumped you for
some hot shot banker six years ago, you know what dumped means, I guess two
years of teaching first standard kids must have taught you the meaning
of dump, she must be having a great family now, couple of kids and here you are
half bottle down, pissing on our vacation.” His Girlfriend of six months was
half drunk but that didn’t stop her from giving him an earful. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Yaaa… but …that
night was magical …..” Ishaan didn't finish. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><i><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><i><span lang="EN-US">Ishaan
Kaul is actually a software engineer who quit his high paying job to teach
primary kids English at a convent </span></i></b><b><span lang="EN-US">school.<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Welcome
back Mr. Kaul, while you were away on vacation, we have inducted a new boy in your class, he
is an absolute delight” Miss Mendoza the head mistress said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Where is
he?” Ishaan replied, still in vacation hangover.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Oh, here
he comes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">A thin boy
of five walks towards them and as he was coming closer, Ishaan’s eyes narrowed
and lips quivered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Hello!! Ishaan, meet your English Teacher, Mr. Ishaan Kaul, it’s like Ishaan square” said Mrs Mendoza laughing alone at her joke.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Isn’t he
cute Mr. Kaul, just like you” Miss Mendoza blushed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">Ishaan’s
expression turned grim<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Why don’t we meet his mother? She must be in
the principal’s office”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">They walked
towards the office.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">“Nikita, this
is Mr. Kaul, our brilliant young English teacher”, Principal said, pointing
towards the door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">As she
turned around, Ishaan’s knees gave away and he fainted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
ANSHUMANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01549116518292672804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383852000298706866.post-61068673681777052982015-01-17T08:38:00.004-08:002015-01-18T07:26:24.849-08:00Paris and Ali; a confluence of Ideals.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I have to write ...yes, I have to.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Everyone tells me,it's an addiction. It will never pay you, but consume you. It will engulf and make a fool of you. How can I explain, I am bound by my nature. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I did a small experiment with myself. I wanted to see how long can I keep myself away from penning down my thoughts or reading something. Well, on the reading front,apart from the usual dose of 2 national newspapers,magazines and Quora feed.I have managed to keep myself away from the the "heavy readings". I could have stayed away from writing also. It is no big thing. Writing seems like work to me. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Today the image that is dancing at the back of my mind is that of an small office in Paris. This office was unlike the normal ones. Here the people didn't just run through the motion. They were creators. Creative people are not bound by spaces, it's all in the brain. It's just that their antennas are still functioning compared to the other people, who bury their receivers the moment they get their first pay cheque. These people were cartoonists and satirists. They used their art to hit at the hypocrisy that is going around in this world. They made fun of aristocracy, politicians, corrupt and powerful. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
They also made fun of religious bigotries, their narrowness and in-humaneness. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
If one just picks up a beginners guide about any religion or for that matter a sect,one thing which is common among all is that their founders were iconoclasts of their generation. All the founders or messiah's refused to follow the norms. Criticized the then prevalent customs and way of life.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
They showed people something they could only dream about.A fresh perspective , an evolution to their life style and thinking.Thoughts and philosophies which may seem archaic today, must have been revolutionary at that time. That is why, the all the founders had to face stiff opposition from the then rulers and religious leaders. They all were powerful orators. Unafraid and principled. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Then, why is that today, people who designate themselves as the "Google" of ABC religion have become so narrow minded that even a cartoon sketch is assumed to be an attack at one's religion. Why is our faith so weak? Why can't we laugh at that?Why do we feel like, taking revenge? Why are we sending armed mercenaries to kill innocent, unarmed people?</div>
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There is a small story I was told just a couple of years back. It will further elucidate the point I am trying to make.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
My favorite hero in Islamic history is Ali.He is the composer and writer of the Holy Quran which was rendered to him by the Prophet(Pbuh). He was the nephew of the Prophet(Pbuh) and the first Muslim.Apart from being a brilliant scholar, he was a gifted fighter too. His sword, Zulfiqkar, sent tremors down the spines of his enemies. </div>
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It was during one of the crusades. Ali was engrossed fighting a giant from the enemy forces. This giant was a terror for the Islamic army.Hence, Ali was called to bring him down. All eyes were fixed on the two.Only one will walk alive. Ali, himself a huge man, was looking like a pygmy in front of the giant. His army was worried for him.</div>
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It took many hours and hits to bring this giant on his knees. His end was in front of his eyes, the Zulfiqkar was shining in the desert sun . Giant's army had already deserted him. There were victory shouts around. Ali's army was jubilant. Verses of his bravery were being sung around . They all pegged him to slash the neck of the giant with a swing of his sword.</div>
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Ali, looked upon the fallen giant and took his stance to finish him off. Suddenly, the giant did something unthinkable;he spat on Ali. People expected Ali to cut the giant into pieces.But, Ali did something which nobody could have anticipated. He rested his double edged sword and walked away. He let that giant go. There was furore in the camp.</div>
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Everybody was shell shocked. How could Ali do that? This question was on everybody's lips.</div>
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Ali, did not speak to anyone. He quietly went for his daily ablutions and prayers afterwards.Nobody dared to ask him anything.</div>
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<br /></div>
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In the evening, all the commanders or Sipah-e-Salars,as they were called then, went to a Dervesh (Peer) with the question.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Dervesh slowly opened his eyes and said. Fools, he is the true follower. He could have finished the giant in one swing, but this war is holy. He is fighting this war for "him".It is not his personal war.</div>
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<br /></div>
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The moment the giant spat on Ali, Ali got very angry. But, at the same moment, he remembered why he was fighting this war. He didn't want to kill the giant just to satisfy his own injury. He didn't want to bring "I" in this war. It was holy. Hence, he let him go. Anger had overpowered his senses. He was fighting to control his senses.</div>
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<i>Years after, in some other crusade, this story teller tells me, that Ali killed the giant.</i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So, my question to so called fighters of the holy wars is, with such ideals as your founders, what has forced you to take this path of mindless killing?</div>
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<br /></div>
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Murdering unarmed people, that too in cold blood like thieves will bring no Jannat on earth. Jannat is inside us all. Fight with the demons inside you. That war is the most difficult one. </div>
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<br /></div>
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PS: The story teller is a man, who even after being a victim of religious extremism, respects the ethos of all religions and believes that all roads lead to the same place.</div>
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ANSHUMANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01549116518292672804noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383852000298706866.post-8991958963311410062015-01-06T11:02:00.002-08:002015-01-06T18:27:36.527-08:00The Rant 3.0<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It's chilling tonight in Hyderabad, the traffic outside my room is thinning slowly.</div>
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An Ernest Hemingway book is staring at me. It is my salary day gift to myself.</div>
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Every end of the month, my company dutifully deposits my salary in my numbered account in Geneva.</div>
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On that day, after finishing from office or some workshop,depending upon the orders of the day,I go to the Crossword. I like to be surrounded by books. I still remember the first time I had visited a library. It was my school library. My favorite book back then was a giant Picture book about the various planets and heavenly bodies. But, what I loved in those books was the pictures of Greek gods and godessess and a small background story on how these bodies came to be named as they are today.</div>
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I hardly recall any word from that book, except that its smell still lingers somewhere;</div>
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I used to run as soon as the bell rang, leaving my lunch untouched. I wanted to be the first kid to get that book issued. </div>
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<br /></div>
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So, it has been a pattern of some sort. A kind of bribe to myself for completing another month.</div>
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Whatever it is, I like it. I place my bag at the entry, in the safe custody of the doorman.</div>
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The doorman nods and acknowledges me. I start with the fresh Indian fiction section. One whole shelf is dedicated to the Master Bhagat,and his other followers. Then adjacent to that is a collection which is a bit more matured and sensible. Authors like Shashi Tharoor ,Amitav Ghosh,Jumpa Lahiri fill those spaces. I like Jhumpa Lahiri's style of writing very much. There is no surprise ending or suspense, just a simple well crafted story. Her main theme has always been about the immigrants from India. I recently read one of her collection of stories.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I once purchased a story collection of Premchand, I am a very big fan of his work. His stories are heart wrenching tales from the Hindi hinterland. His stories can be termed as the historical record of the life and times in those days of turmoil during British rule. His own life, is a tragedy.He died in his early 50s from poverty and illness.</div>
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It was suicidal in those days to write. </div>
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My other favourite author is Sadat Hassan Manto. Manto, although being a master story teller of his genre, also died in abject poverty and debt.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Manto's stories are a mirror to the society. I guess he was the first writer who wrote extensively on pimps and prostitutes. He also wrote about the film industry of that time. He was a well paid story writer. Had he been a normal,compromising writer , he could have lived a lavish life in Mumbai. </div>
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But then life had something else store for him;early death and everlasting fame. Plus the fact, that his roots were from Kashmir and he was tried thrice for vulgarity and obscenity makes him my personal favorite.</div>
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His stories have that rawness, they seem to have been finished in one go, with no revisions or editing. They are a result of an epiphany and not brooding over every line.</div>
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<br /></div>
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His one of the best story is "Thanda Gost" or the "Cold meat", </div>
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I got shaken to the core after finishing it.</div>
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The skill he had, cannot be taught to anyone nor can it be practiced. </div>
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It is God given. I am pretty surprised that in India, he is not celebrated that much as Ghalib or Iqbal are. Albeit, he matched them word for word in prose.</div>
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<br /></div>
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It has become quieter now. My building has 15 families living in. Ours is the only<br />
"Bachelorate" flat. We are taken as threat to their "happy" householder's life.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"Well, what can we able to do saaar?"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Moving on next is my parody on reviews. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We assume that if we continuously ask questions or make an employee present some bullshit figures in some bullshit PPT, he or she can improve rapidly.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> I am again feeling drowsy, my eyelids are too heavy now......</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Off to sleep, hope you like it, will continue with review of the "review" MO used in various sectors,I once made my colleague spill his black tea with my story about a condom sales guy and his annual review,so stay tuned and let me know the feedback.</i></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i>It's just that I am tired of mailing it or texting the link to people for reviews.</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i>Why do I use "that" so much,"that" should be nipped in "that" bud of that"plant" in "that" garden behind my building ....dedicated to my editor,my muse.</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i>"godsmile"</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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</script>ANSHUMANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01549116518292672804noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383852000298706866.post-59898640549970616592015-01-06T05:23:00.001-08:002015-01-06T05:23:19.945-08:00The Rant 2.0<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: orange;">A</span>fter few requests from very close friends ( current and a pissed off ex). I will at least try finish the thought. </span></div>
<span lang="EN-US">Most of you are probably not aware about the pain of the half finished story. I guess, in order to explain it, I may have to use some similes. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span>Imagine, you are alone in a cottage in Goa, which you have booked months in advance just to get away from everything. You just have a 7 inch spring mattress in the room. It is close to the beach, the waves are making a nice hum noise. It's all very pleasant.<br />
You are sipping pulpy orange and reading Sidney Sheldon. Suddenly(I am just kidding) you get a hard on (yes this is sexist). Now why would anyone get a hard on reading Sidney Sheldon?<br />
<br />
Well, before I move on let me clarify that, though the name Sidney sounds like a well endowed, hot, blonde chick in a tank top and shorts with sexy,shining, and waxed legs, bending down to adjust her slippers(OK,I need to stop). He was a "tharki" dude, who was possessed by the ghost of a famous french prostitute. There is no other way a man could write such graphic sex scenes from a point of view of a woman, book after book, page after page. Not only you get a hard on, you may also want to do something about it. And I am not talking about keeping the book aside and logging into your premium X-Videos account. But balancing the book on one hand and letting the other do its job.<br />
<br />
Suddenly, the same chick, whom I just described above, knocks on your door. You are startled , none of us like interruptions during the "special moments". You curse under your breath. You are in a dilemma of whether or not to wash your left hand. Oh! who cares, its my body part after all.<br />
You pull your pants up, to hide the contours of your pole and walk up to the door. You open it and before she says hi, your heart has already starting pumping blood at 1600 bar pressure.<br />
<br />
You are dazzled, a <i>firangan</i> in my room. The ultimate fantasy of every Indian who visit Goa. Doesn't she read the news or watch TV channels? India is new the rock star in the rapes category at UN.<br />
<br />
She just asks for water. You are struggling with all your hormones and years of frustration with gf's who never delivered.You want to record this ephemeral and rare act of Kamdev in HD in your brain for "those moments" .<br />
<br />
She sips the water slowly. Her luscious lips are wet. She has a thick lower lip with a little bit of pout. Her upper lip is very aggressive and soft ,like a rose petal.<br />
<br />
<i>What am I doing? Imagine if my sibling reads this and then translates it to my grandma ?</i><br />
<i><br /></i><i>My long held back manglik horoscope might finally get released for the sharks. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
You have that gut feeling that may be your " Bramhcharya " is finally over. You try to have some small talk. She doesn't seem to be interested in talking. Oh! gotcha, she wants action man.<br />
<br />
One of you friends had put one rubber sachet in your back pack. You blushed, and even protested<br />
Now, in your mind you are already framing the story which is going to be the main theme in the upcoming "daru parties" or may the subject of a new blog " How I rocked the beach and was thrown out by the owner?"<br />
<br />
You inch your body closer to her. She smells so good, is it peach or litchi?Till that time, she takes off her tank top. Now you are salivating like a dog in heat. All those GBs of %^%^ could not have prepared you for this view.<br />
<br />
You have finally lost your control, you are poking your nose into her neck and doing things, which lead to the common problem of pre-evacuation.<br />
<br />
But suddenly someone slaps you from behind and pulls you by the cord of your shorts.<br />
<br />
You turn around,and the sight that meets your eye is of a 7 feet tall,burly black dude. His biceps are well formed and thick. Your mind immediately calculates the pros and cons of flight or fight and you hold back your hand. They speak some weird sounding language. You are dragged and drugged.<br />
<br />
All your money , clothes and even the pulpy orange is taken away. You mouth is gagged with your own underwear, you so wish to have at least rinsed it.<br />
<br />
<i>Sleep is taking over me now.... did I just write a short film on KLPD?....</i><br />
<i><br /></i><i>good night folks, Sidney Sheldon has helped me many times to pass those long summer nights in Pant Nagar.( I had a single room in 3rd year).</i><br />
<i><br /></i><i>Typos are all mine...don't ignore them...</i><br />
<i><br /></i><i><br /></i></div>
ANSHUMANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01549116518292672804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383852000298706866.post-56569736304205637822015-01-04T02:52:00.001-08:002015-01-06T05:21:50.498-08:00The Rant <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I am a Facebook
addict. Let’s face it. Whenever, I get time in between the barrage of the phone
calls and outlook. I log onto Facebook and check out what others have posted. What
new jokes and memes are trending. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">All my
acquaintances have green light in front of their names along with their mugshots. If
Facebook was invented for connecting humans, then I am wondering why I am not
connecting with them. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US">As I am inching towards the wrong side of 20s, the list
of people who have known me is just expanding, but the list of people I like to
be with, is shrinking fast.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US">There is
a procession of people outside. A huge caravan of vehicles carrying men with </span></i><span lang="EN-US"><i>green flags marked with half moon and
the customary star, has spilled on the street. Today apart from being Sabbath is
the birthday of Prophet Muhammed (PBuH). FYI, this PBuH means Peace be upon him.
I first read it in a history book of NCERT.
It took me a long time to figure out what this Pbuh means. I was afraid
that I will be branded as a fool, if I asked someone about it, so Pbuh remained
a great mystery to me for a long time</i>.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Moving on,
where was I? Oh!! What I do during my black-dog days. I go into the memory
record room, try to recall the cute sepia photos of all the beauties I have met
over the lifetime. Then I try to recall their names or surnames, location etc.
Then type in the search box. The search throws up a lot of names along with
profile pics. More often, I get so enticed by the “other search” results that I
forget who I was looking for, in the first place.</span>Then I
check out her profile. Read her posts; try to gauge her personality type. If
there are only duck lip pout selfies with her girl-friends. I make it a point
to move on immediately. This goes on and on, till a little voice inside me asks
me “why”. Then the guilt hormones kick in, and I leave this wild chase and come
back to the real world.</div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">But just to
inform the readers, these activities have surprisingly got reduced since yours
truly found another app called Tinder. Use it, if you live in city with a
population over 80 lakh and your only FRIEND is your flat mate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"> I have already deviated a lot from the original
idea with which I had awakened myself from the maggi induced siesta on a warm Sunday.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">My original
idea was to record the first thoughts that come to my mind as I proceed through
my news feed. I have heard that a bunch of geeks spend a lot of time in writing
algorithms, on what to put on my news feed. Good luck for that, bitches. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">So, here
again, in the middle of this write up, I am going to refresh my news feed and
bore you to death with the commentary. <b><i>Yes,
I am sarcastic all the time. <o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">The first item on the list a collection of pictures
posted by one of my lady juniors. Inherently I don’t like photography. I feel, it
is not an art. You take a bloody picture and then concoct it with all the
bloody filters and effects and Lo! Here is a picture. I would rather like, if someone clicks a
picture and then paints or writes about it. Photographs are just memory tools. But
this disdain for photography might have also stemmed from the fact I cannot
take decent clicks myself. So, what you cannot do, just criticize it. Well, I
am the fucking writer here, so I will write, whatever I want. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">PS: Many of good friends are amazing with camera. Most of my profile
pics have been taken by some very good photographers. Which has helped me in
turn to lure the opposite sex .So, yes, it is a hypocrisy of the very highest
order.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<span style="text-indent: -18pt;">Next on the list is a very smart
status update by another junior, male this time. As, I read the status my first
reaction is why didn't I come up with that. It is so obvious. I also checked the
stats for that status and they are not impressive. My envy evaporates. Thank
God.</span></div>
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<br />
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<span lang="EN-US"> Okay, now I am very much
engrossed in the feeds, so let’s take a break mate…peace out.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span>
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ANSHUMANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01549116518292672804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383852000298706866.post-42839729673914864322014-12-21T20:59:00.000-08:002015-01-18T11:30:22.443-08:00Karma is a bitch.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">It was a dark cave which served as their board room. 20 Old dusty Taliban warlords had assembled there.
A group mail was sent to all of them from SHQ for their monthly review.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Target Vs Achievement excel sheets were being prepared
and filed. Their one –eyed boss was busy getting his beard dyed n<sup>th</sup>
time by his wife no. 14 who was just 25 years younger to him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">All 20 warlords were trained by CIA way back in early
80s when America wanted them to fight against the Russians. It used to be a big class, but then the
American invasion in the next century made sure that only few alumni survive to
attend this monthly review. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The meeting was scheduled for 11 am but it was not
before 2 pm that everyone was seated cross-legged on the sand, getting bashed
by their master. The one-eyed boss was angry to the point of bursting. None of
the warlords had completed their monthly target of killings and bomb blasts.
They were also behind their opium off take from the head quarter. Their revenues
had fallen to a 2 year low. Only 10 suicide bombings against a target of 20,
this was not acceptable by any standards to the boss. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Plus their training centers had not received fresh
supply of dumb pupils from the remote tribal areas. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“If you cannot brainwash uneducated tribal youth in NW
frontier area, what is the fun of having you, tell me. Have I have not supplied you all with the
latest DVD players to play the propaganda videos of atrocities being committed
on our brothers across the world. Tell me…. then what is the matter with you
all, look at ISIS, look how they are reaching their targets.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“But….” one of the Warlords gathered courage to speak.</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“What ….speak up”, that one-eye was fixed on the
target now. Trigger finger was about to receive order from a taut nerve, to
pull.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“ISIS pays well……and….”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">AND BAM….a lot of dust rose up and then settled. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">One warlord less; the meeting continued. Nobody even
dared to pick the dead body which was lying spread eagle in front of them. The
shot was echoing in the cave, but then it was not the first time these walls
had heard shots.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Any more questions” One-eyed boss asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">All 19 held their breath…afraid by the noise of their
own breathing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Relax my brothers, it was <b>HIS</b> plan; we are
just actors. But remember…..I am the boss”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">After the meeting it was decided to conduct a mass
operation which would help them to complete their pending targets.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The cave started buzzing with new ideas. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Idea no. 1: Bombing Indian Embassy in Kabul.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Boss replied,” We have done it only last year, think afresh,
be innovative, we are the bloody Taliban. Plus I have heard Modi is not like Man
Mohan”. Last sentence was a spoken a bit softly<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Idea no. 2:
Kidnap American Soldiers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“And give them another subject for an Oscar movie, how
they sent black hawks and rescued the hostages and killed half of you in bed ,
where are your brains, <b><i>Khabhiso</i></b>”,Boss was livid with anger<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Idea no. 3: Pick a weak spot in Pakistan and gain
publicity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Now you are thinking”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Boss started to play with his freshly dyed beard. Dye
was coming off to his hands though.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Years ago, when I was a kid, my father wanted me
to study in a famous Peshawari school…(no one could control laughter )…. So, he
took me to the Army school for admission; as usual the Army buggers couldn't
judge my extra-ordinary talent and rejected me. Since then ,I have a grudge
against the school. Why not we attack the school? This should teach those old
snobs a lesson.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Sardar, I wanted to say something”, the oldest and
the dumbest of them raised his voice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></i></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">May be he has AIDS; hence he is not afraid to die.
That was the general conclusion everyone reached.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">He began. “Sardar, if you remember, it was an Army
school alumnus who had shot that bullet from 800 yards to take your one eye. I
think we should catch them young and then no more well trained snipers to take
our eyes out. We will finish an entire generation of Army officers, in Pakistan,
in one swipe. It is a long term strategy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“How can I forget him? We will do it. My lions , wake
up, and start preparing .Minimum target is 100.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">On the day of operation Sardar received a number of
congratulatory calls from Who’s who in the jihadi universe. Prominent in those
were Abu Al-Bakr Baghdadi -ISIS chief, Hafeez Sayeed -26/11 mastermind and also Syrian PM
and on and on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">It was nearly midnight when his private telephone rang;
it was unusual for him to receive calls at that point of the night. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">There was no hello, salaam or anything. Only sobs,
uncontrollable sobs. The croaking of the voice was such that as if the other caller
was being stifled. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Somehow the caller took control of her voice and said
Salam.</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Immediately the voice recognition software of Sardar
switched on and identified the caller.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Speak up my Noor, why are you crying? Has Irfan again
come home drunk?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Irfan was “Noor’s” husband.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Crying continued.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Tell me what has happened, I will move heaven and
earth for you. Tell me, my daughter, why are you crying?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Why…abba ..why?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“What why? Please stop crying”.Sardar was no longer
the man in command; he removed his turban and kept it besides the telephone
table. His temples were sweating. He was <i>the</i> “defeated man” as our Hindu
scriptures like to brand the “Father of a daughter”. He had umpteen daughters
but Noorie was the noor of her eye. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Why did you attack the school….abba …why….”.This time
she was wailing, her nails were scratching the walls, her vision was failing
her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“That is our strategy to hit them at the weakest and
most sensitive point, have you forgotten how many of your uncles were killed in
the Zarb-e-Azb operation by Pakistanis”.Sardar was back on offensive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“But why that school…why not some other school……did
you forget? Where your grandson …….”.Her
voice broke off, she was no longer on earth, her body was cold, the poison she
had swallowed had begun its action, she was cold blue and dead. Yes dead, the
grief of burying one’s child in one’s lifetime is inconsolable.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Noorie.. Noorie.. Noorie………please speak up…hello hello….”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Sardar immediately opened his laptop and logged on to
Facebook (which was haram in his sermons though). Blood was pounding in his
ears. There, on his news feed, was the
image of his grandson smiling in front of the gate of the Pakistan Army School
Peshawar, a couple of months back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">His left arm was stiff; suddenly his breathing began
to falter. His heart failed him and he fell off the edge of his bed, his face contorted
like a Japanese demon mask.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: small; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">PS: "Khabis" is a Persian word, often used to insult someone, It means Swine.</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 27.75pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 3.75pt; text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #101010; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 27.75pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 3.75pt; text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #101010; font-size: large;">There's a natural law of karma that
vindictive people, who go out of their way to hurt others, will end up broke
and alone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 27.75pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 3.75pt; text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #101010;"><span style="font-size: large;">Rambo</span></span></div>
</div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 27.75pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 3.75pt; text-align: center;">
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ANSHUMANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01549116518292672804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383852000298706866.post-48715967934504896642014-11-21T03:53:00.002-08:002016-01-16T05:50:12.898-08:00Mr. Feminist<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
“Please leave my clothes there; yes I know they stink!!”</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
“Nooo, I will just soak them, you can wash them afterwards.”</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
“No means no, I need a girlfriend, not a maid.”</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
“If <b><i>the</i></b> GF wants you to have clean shirt and underwear, is that against your lofty principles?”</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
“Look why are we arguing about it, you want me to be clean, let me do it, you don’t need to do this stuff.”</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
“But why, you don’t want me to be a part of your life, why these distances honey?”</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
“Ohh good GOD!!, where do these things come into your mind, from centuries we have been chastised that we have stereotyped women folk, and now when someone is taking a stand, it still affects you, this is bullshit”</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
“It’s not bullshit; AND PLEASE mind your language, it’s just I would feel closer to you if you let me do the dishes after dinner or teach me cooking, or let me sweep the room after our romps”</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
“Baby, I can hire a maid to do the cleaning and washing, I really don’t want you to do that.”</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
“Oh really, why not… tell me…had your EX did the same thing, wouldn’t you let her?”</div>
<b></b><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b><b><i><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></i></b></b></div>
<b> <div style="text-align: justify;">
<b><i><span lang="EN-US">One microsecond long break</span></i></b></div>
</b><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
“Ohh great, I knew it, you are still not out of her shadow, I knew it, you still love her, tell me?”</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
“Oh my fucking lord…I just take a second to ponder and you accuse me of infidelity, great, you could have asked this question directly rather than this whole rigor more of cleaning and washing. Why are you so complex? Dating you is like dating a CIA interrogator.”</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
“Fantastic!!! Now I have turned from “I love ur lips, baby “ to a fucking CIA interrogator, good, you promoted me pretty fast, no?”</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
“Ok, can we just imagine that this conversation never happened?”</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
“Why don’t you imagine we never met, good bye Mr. Feminist <b><i>in your pants</i></b>.”</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
“How dare you!!”</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
“Oh please, gimme a break, I have seen you curl your long lashes, so don’t give me this crap. I am packing my stuff; I have you wired my share of the rent. I have found a new apartment closer to my office, where I can live with civilized people of my species, so I am moving out tomorrow.”</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Would love to hear the review.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<br /></div>
ANSHUMANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01549116518292672804noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383852000298706866.post-77660277022965361502014-09-16T10:45:00.001-07:002014-09-28T04:00:51.834-07:00The Beheading<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">Beheading, has been an old and primitive form
of public execution to reinforce the “Who is your daddy sentiment” in the
targeted audience. And as the current rock stars of the Islamic gun revolution
plan to take us back to the camel riding days of the Muhammad (PBuH). We are
seeing an increasing number of these incidents. But as long as these don’t
happen in our vicinity we ignore it like the Ebola virus until it came knocking to
our international airports.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US">I am sharing some snippets from the last few
pages of the Journal of Mr. Steven Sotloff a half Jewish American freelance
reporter, who was recently brutally executed in the deserts of Iraq by ISIS
after one year of captivity. The act was duly recorded and circulated in the
media and even the perpetrators were surprised by the speed of the media and
internet nowadays. The publicity their stunt had garnered even overshadowed the
Jennifer Lawrence iCloud leak.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US">This journal was found on the person of Indian
origin (Dongri, Mumbai) Irrfan, who had
specially gone to Iraq to join the Jihad against America on the call from ISIS.
Irrfan was a school dropout. He had then joined the local Madrassa to
learn farsi and Persian so that he could
understand what he spoke 5 times a day during namaaz, but all the efforts of Qazi were futile , as Irrfan,
except checking out his daughter did nothing worthwhile and finally was
expelled from the there too. His father late Shahnawaz was by no account a
religion fanatic. He considered this religion fanaticism nothing more than time
waste, but he died too soon to drill the same values in Irrfan. Unfortunately
his mother was not cut from the same cloth as his father. She had lost her
cousin in the 1993 riots in Mumbai and from that time nursed a grudge against
Hindus. Even though majority of the clients for her ladies boutique were fat
upper middle class Gujrati ladies, then logic was not a strong forte of
Viqrunissa Begum. And she was very proud of her name though she never bothered
about the meaning. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US"> Not much is known about the indoctrination of Irrfan.
How a school dropout had got such courage to join the most organized covet
terrorist organization is something that is keeping the NSA(National Security
Adviser) and HM(Home minister) up at
nights. Irfan has been kept in the super-secret interrogation center, which is
the Indian Parliament. I am not talking about the floor of the house where ding
dong battles are staged between old and obese politicians, but the torture room
many floors below that. All the high value targets are placed there cut off
from the world. Even the interrogators
are housed there till the time target breaks. These measures are very
necessary. A stint down the dungeons can be very demanding even for the intelligence
sleuths as except the NSA no one has the access to them, not even their family.
So, normally young bachelor recruits are given the job to break the subject. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US">Not many
people knew that the terrorist attack on the Parliament a decade ago had twin
objectives of holding the bleeding Indian democracy at ransom and other to get
their brothers freed from the hell below. Only terrorist and Intelligence
officers know about the underground hell under the heart of the Indian
democracy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><u><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Last few pages from the Journal of the beheaded
journalist Steven:<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Sometimes I am so
lost in my thoughts that I forget I am in chains and have been in the same
condition for the last 355 days and 16 hours. My wrists and ankles have turned
into a very different shade than the rest of the skin due to the constant
shackling. For first couple of the months, it was green, then blue and now the
color is same as the rusted cuffs. These chains now feel like a part of my
body, like some appendage. Slowly and steadily my urge to stand up and move has
got subdued. I think this is what Darwin would have called evolution. Albeit, a
negative one. I have lost about 40 pounds, thanks to the diet I get here, the
cheapest way to get rid of the flab with no exercise; I have to hold onto my
pants while standing up.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The best part of the day is when I am allowed
to walk around the hut , it takes me precise 380 steps to walk around the hut. And
after one complete round I am again chained like a pet underfed dog. I have no
contact with the outside world <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I am daily given a
mug of salted tea with some stale thick bread called samoon. It has deep pocket
marks and some mustard seeds spread over it, though it’s stale, but I pretend
that I am eating straight fresh from the oven. It’s an exercise for my gums to chew
the bread. The tea helps to wash it down. Tea is much stronger and thicker.
Lunch menu can vary with the mood of the Jailor. If all goes well till lunch we
may even get a good meal, but if any prisoner
creates any nuisance ,apart from getting beaten black and blue ,rest of
the camp has to be satisfied with left overs. This is a very effective way of checking
revolt. Keep them starved.</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">The man who runs the prisoner camp is a gulf war </span></span><span style="font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.4666652679443px;">veteran. Everyone calls him the jailor.I came face to face with him only once and it was no pleasant experience.</span></span></b><br />
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> The mujahid who was given the duty of watching me had an eye
for my Nike trainers which I was wearing at the time of my kidnapping. And
finally one night he stole them, I didn’t even protest, but next day the Jailor
himself came with a poly bag containing my shoes. The poly bag was blood
stained. It is still lying untouched . I never saw the mujahid again around the
prison. Theft, I guess must be inviting a death penalty in “Caliphate”.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">My next guard was
a dark brown guy. Short and gaunt with small hairs sprouting on his chin, which
he liked to play with, absent mindedly. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">He was like me, bored
to death and would have liked nothing better than to have a conversation.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">So finally, one evening
when he was watching me taking my evening walk around the hut, I decided to
break the ice.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Where are you
from”, I asked.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“India; keep
walking and don’t look towards me, if anyone sees me talking to you that will be
the last moment of my life”, he replied without apparently moving his lips.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Ok ok”, I
replied.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></i></b>
<b><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Caution is the
elder brother of tomfoolery in these times.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Finally when I was
back to the privacy of my hut, I had a conversation with him.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“So, what brought
you here to this hell hole of middle east”, my first journalistic question
since …umm very long.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“I am a Muslim
from India and it’s my duty to fight for my Muslim brethren anywhere in the
world”, pat came the answer.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Bradley Hand ITC; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Bradley Hand ITC; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> He spoke English in a very funny fashion. The
answer was not a result of original thinking but some rote learning. He </span></span><span style="font-family: Bradley Hand ITC;"><span style="font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.4666652679443px;">couldn't</span></span><span style="font-family: Bradley Hand ITC; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> even face me while answering. Something in the sand caught his fantasy
and he remained </span></span></span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> <b>silent
for the next 15 minutes. He began to mutter something to himself in some very
strange language. After a lot of head shaking and frothing at the corners of
his mouth, he looked up and stared at me blankly. His eyes had the “where the
fuck I am” expression and he knew that I had deciphered the same.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Are you alright”, I asked slowly.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Yes, I am fine.
You seem to be an educated guy. Can I ask
you something?”<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Yes, go ahead”, I
replied enthusiastically.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Why are you here?
I mean you don’t seem like an American soldier or a spy. </span></b><br />
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Your round thick
glasses remind me of my school principal.”
He laughed<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“I am here because
I wrote an article which didn’t go well with the so called Caliph”.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“What did you
write to piss the Khalifa so much?” he smiled.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“The truth”<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“What truth?”<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Something that
the Caliph does not want the world to know”<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Ok stop, before
you say another word, if the Khalifa wants it secret then so be it, no need for
me to hear it”.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">He was pointing
towards something with his eye balls.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I didn’t get it,
but immediately 4 burly henchmen with covered faces and Kalashnikov’s appeared
out of now where, the guard was lifted by the gun totting guys from the
armpits. One of them carried a lawn chair and opened it in front of me. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Suddenly hush fell
around; everyone was straight up as if holding their breaths. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Caliph has come, bow
your head in prostration”. A gunman pushed me with nozzle of the gun. I got up
on my knees and bowed. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">He is not that
tall as Al-Jazeera wants us to believe, except for his thick forearms nothing
about him is like a mujahid; he looks any other Arab, thick jovial round face.
But his nose is sharp giving him a feature that is not common in this part of
the world. His shoulders are round from the hours of study he must have put to
get two PhDs. His one thesis was on the medieval Sufis of Middle East and the
other on the concept of the modern Caliphate. It had created a furore in the
academic circles of Iraq, but then his connections with the Al-Qaeda nulled any
official protests. Even American intelligence dismissed him as an intellectual
threat nothing more, to our own peril. Because he not only created the dream
but also made sure it is realized in this life time only.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">He occupied the
chair which was by some standards not able to fit him completely. He pulled the
chair closer to me. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">By a wave of hand
he ordered his men to unchain me and leave.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Now we were alone,
Caliph and the pet dog. I couldn’t resist a headline.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Bradley Hand ITC; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Bradley Hand ITC; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">“How is </span></span><span style="font-family: Bradley Hand ITC;"><span style="font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.4666652679443px;">Jailor</span></span><span style="font-family: Bradley Hand ITC; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> treating you?” he asked looking directly into my eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Nothing to
complaint, but now that you are asking a chilly cheese burger would really
cheer up my day”, I replied. When your life depends on a whim of a maniac, fear
just vanishes from you. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">He smiled. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Bradley Hand ITC; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Bradley Hand ITC; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">”Has the </span><span style="line-height: 20.7000007629395px;">jailor</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> given you any paper to write? You journalists can’t sleep without slinging mud
on someone, </span></span><span style="font-family: Bradley Hand ITC;"><span style="font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.4666652679443px;">isn't</span></span><span style="font-family: Bradley Hand ITC; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> it?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Yes, that was
very thoughtful of you, But how did you came to know about the article I was
writing on your dubious ancestry”. I was really curious as it was still in the
drafts folder of my Mac book when ISIS picked me up.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“You had visited
too many people and places asking about me, I kept ignoring you as another nosy
journo, but when you started inquiring about my maternal family. Something had
to be done.”<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I had managed to
uncover a secret that could shake both the Caliphate and Caliph to its foundation.
But instead of the Pulitzer, I was kidnapped. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The mighty Caliph stood up,
his back turned towards me.</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“You do realize that
by a movement of my little finger I can get you beheaded and thrown in to the
desert.”<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Actually, I am
wondering what has taken you so long.”<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">He slashed across
my face, it stung and a white light flashed before my eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“I am sorry”, the
normally placid and cool Khalifa had sweat on his forehead.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> But this time I couldn’t smile, I tasted my
own blood.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“You are just like
Voldemort”, I blurted out, spitting out blood on the sand<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Who the hell is Voldemort?”
He replied angrily.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Don’t tell me the
legendary Caliph Abu Al –Bakr Baghdadi has not read Harry Potter”, I said
mockingly.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Oh that crap
child fantasy, no I haven’t”.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Then I recommend
that you read it. The villain of this series, Voldemort shares one very curious
characteristic with you.”<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Both of them were
the flag bearers of a particular community, Magicians in Voldemort’s case and
Muslims in Baghdadi’s case. But there was a flaw in their family tree, ; they themselves were half-bloods.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">For hardcore
extremist Muslims, almost every other religion is like muggles or the more
popular, KAFIR’s ,the non-believers, but the race they hate the most is Jews
and it was indeed a very skinny Jewish college student who had brought this
monster named Baghdadi in this world in
a dingy room of a nondescript
nursing home. His father, a middle aged handsome Arabic professor at the
university had no idea what bane his one night casual sex with an exchange
student had created. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">One of the goals for ISIS is the extermination of Jews from Israel. If the
followers and so called “believers” came to know that their Caliph was himself
half -Jew. The caliphate would crumble like a house of cards.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><b><u><i>For reading the
rest of the Journal, please log on to:</i></u>- </b></span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">www.wikileaks.com/steve_Journal_al_baghdadi</span></b><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b>
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Disclaimers:<br />
<br />
1. Parliament has no torture center down stairs.<br />
<br />
2. Jews don't have hell or heaven.<br />
<br />
3. It is fiction, of course and the link may be phony.</div>
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ANSHUMANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01549116518292672804noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383852000298706866.post-13886844928122631362014-06-09T07:06:00.000-07:002014-09-28T04:00:01.073-07:00License to Procreating/Parenting:<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;">In today’s world, there are a number of activities for
which an individual or a group needs prior license or permission. For example, if
someone wants to open a liquor shop in the neighborhood, he or she needs to
have a license for that. For driving, opening some new business enterprise blah..
blah. But somehow in this myriad web of license raj, we have missed a critical
issue.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">In our Indian culture, generally parents have been
given a status only next to GOD, and in some cases even higher than the
Almighty. <i>Because almighty is not going to manifest and change your diapers
in the middle of the night</i> or clean your dirty nosy…etc etc. But those were
the days of Satyug and Shravan Kumar’s. We have also grown up hearing that “A
Son can be a KAPUT but a mother will always be the mother”. Till now all is good
and fair in the Ramanand-Sagar serial. But the twist comes, when the very people
who are entrusted as the caregivers to the infant take liberties or go astray.
Our first reaction is “Closing our ears”, and we go into the “Don’t tell, don’t
react” zone. There are increasing cases of child abuse by parents and almost in
95% cases, father is responsible and the mother remains “MUM” for the fear of
society, her husband or whatever. Abuse
by parents, be it sexual, physical or any kind, can leave a deep scar on the
child’s psyche. Over all he may camouflage it, but internally his view of the
world gets changed. There are extreme chances for kids who have been abused,
that they turn into maniacs later in life. It can remain latent for a while but
it’s like sitting on a live volcano. Of late movies have used this child-abuse-victim-turned-
maniac sentiment in describing the background of the villain e.g Joker. In one of the installments of the Batman, Joker
reveals the way he got these scars and how his father used to abuse his mother.
I agree that it’s fictitious, but it’s based on the facts psychologists have
been underlining for decades.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">It made me think, what would be the effect on the
child who faces or witnesses such violence, cruelty day in day out. How long
can he stand it? Parents need to provide that protective environment for their
wards. But are they capable of it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"> In a different
research project , the findings of which I stumbled upon just by chance ,it was
concluded after years of research into the background of serial killers or
repeat offenders of gruesome crimes , that 90% of them, were at some point of their impressionable age a victim or
a witness to some abuse or violence. These impressions are very difficult to
let go at that age. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">My main intention in putting the arguments across was that
somehow as a society we need to change the perception about parenting. We need
to establish a mechanism through we can assess whether a person is capable
enough to raise off-springs. The capability assessment needs to be holistic. Just
a good CV should not be the criteria. A very foolproof psychoanalysis of a
person might be necessary to understand whether a person is capable enough of
being a guardian to a newly born baby. Every person may be having different mindset
, approach or methods of raising a kid,
but we need to have a set guidelines to be able to decide that ok ,”yes ,you can have kids” or
put a red stamp of rejection in case of some mismatch.Some people may raise the objection that rejecting people to have kids may stigmatize them, but we can have method to release only the results not the complete analysis which should be kept private.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;">Even the people at the helm of child care centers,
orphanages etc. should be bought into the ambit of this screening. We are
coming across increasing reports of child abuse by the secondary people who
come into the contact of a child, be it security guards or often drivers of
school buses. So, even these people should be screened.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">And parents should be taught/trained to recognize the symptoms
of child abuse. Often kids are unable to express the shock or emotions they
feel after abuse, they mostly become withdrawn or uninterested.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">Parents should be able to pick up on these signs and
look out for reasons.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">So, it is my view that like other aspects where
license is required, a license to procreate or raise kids should also be there.
“License” word seems a bit off putting, but it is what it is. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">PS: It is high time that we also start introspecting, <b><i>can
I be a good parent??</i></b> If you start doing that, the purpose of my blog is
achieved.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><u><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">Would
love to hear your views on this topic, feel free to comment<span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></u></b></div>
</div>
ANSHUMANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01549116518292672804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383852000298706866.post-13446738054825239292014-05-24T22:34:00.000-07:002014-09-28T04:00:51.820-07:00Letter from a former tutor of Rahul Gandhi<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Dear Editor,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">Firstly, I am writing this letter with a very heavy
heart and anonymously.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">Now you would ask why anonymously? Answer to that
question is that I still teach and I have to feed my family, if the word gets
out that I used to teach him, I hardly think anyone would send their ward to my
tutorship.</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">I taught him over a period of 5 years, from 7<sup>th</sup>
grade to 12<sup>th</sup> grade. Due to security reasons, I had to teach him
alone. I still remember teams of SPG commandos outside my gate. Those head
gears and black fatigues, a far cry from the today’s safari suit wearing body
guards.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">So, why am I writing a letter? I have been asking
myself the same question since the polls results. A part of me was happy that BJP finally won,
but inside a part of me was sad that the party run by my former student had
been reduced to 44 seats from the 100 odd something they had won in last
election.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">He was a quiet boy. Came on time, always brought his
books and notebook, never threw any tantrums around the house and likewise.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">It used to be a scene around my home when he used to
come. My wife would wake up early and get rid of every speck of dust in every
nook and corner.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">Everyone was supposed to be quiet and disappear. But
as the days passed my wife finally realized all he notices was the sock full of
marbles hanging from the hook under the table. So, the daily rigormole of clean
up stopped. I used to teach him for 2 hours and 15 minutes. After an hour we
used to take a break. And my son and he used to play hide n seek, marbles and
other games. He gelled on very well and I could sense that those 15 minutes of break
was all he loved about coming to my house. Those 15 minutes of unpretentious friendship
and play made his day .You could easily see that he was worn out by the daily
dose of sermons to him as if he is destined to rule the world. All that was
discussed at the dinner table at his home was politics. Hardly any day would
pass without the bickering and back bitching .It was a poisonous environment to
grow in. His sister was very smart and doting even then, but somehow as
the years grew he felt disconnected with her too. Simply because unlike him, as
he was insulated to all the power politics bullshit, she had finally blossomed into
a future politician, participating in school debate clubs, running and rigging
student body elections, all these came naturally to her. She learned all that
at the knee of the shrewdest politician India has ever known; Indira.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">I see that that arrangement has not changed even now.
Priyanka’s statements are more direct and combative where as our Rahul Baba's cannot even make it to the head line. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">It pains me when I see jokes about him
circulating around on Facebook and twitter. Why doesn’t the world understand,
he didn’t want all this. He was thrust into this. One day, when I was done
expecting some sign of super genius from him. I asked him a simple question. What
do you want to be in your life? What he replied astounded me, and I told him
never to tell this answer to anyone, not even himself.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">What he wanted to become? In this answer is hidden the
reason for everything he does. Do you think he enjoys all this, party politics,
rallies, back lobbying, caste calculations; NO. He is a good person born in a wrong
family, in the wrong order, with wrong sex and in the wrong country. The only thing that excited him was the summer vacation which he used to spend with his
maternal grandparents. He used to feel loved there not because of his surname
or the mantle he has to bear in future. They used to dote on him, loved all his
eccentricities which were forbidden in the palace he lived back home. There
were no servants to keep a watch, no SPG commandos nothing, he could run if he
wanted to, laugh, jump whatever he wanted to do and nobody will raise a finger.
Contrary to the common perception, his maternal family is very traditional, who
still bake their pizza in a brick oven. He used to describe in detail to my son
how the pizza is baked, he seemed to be in awe of the process and often at his
own request his granny used to allow him to deliver pizza around the locality. This
was the thing he loved the most, to deliver pizzas. The joy he felt at this job
was incredible. He still has that dress that her grandma had given him as a
delivery boy. Often after 16 hours of politics, he takes a look at that small
red pants and fray collared shirt, it
calms him and he can go to sleep after wards. Dreaming about Italy, its narrow
alleys and the smell of the pizzeria.</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">He was forcibly sent to the most prestigious colleges in
and around India, without even asking. He could never make friends; he always
used to get surrounded by sycophants and leechers. He hated to read about his
family again and again. He stopped reading newspapers, news channels, everything.
He left St Stephan’s half way, because he could no longer take the hidden barbs
from both the leftists and rightist in the faculty, but what media portrays is
that he flunked. It’s not that difficult to survive in an Indian college, with his
connections and all. But he had enough of that. Next, he called me up once
saying that he was leaving India, before leaving I invited him for dinner. He thoroughly
enjoyed and stayed back for the night. Many eminent persons had written letters
of recommendation for him; hence he had been accepted at one of Ivy League
institutions. But, I could see that more than the college, he was happy for
leaving India, the very nation his family had built. Ironic it may seem, but it’s
the truth.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">Whenever I see him on TV giving massive speeches, I
can straight away decipher the mask he has put on for his family which he
resents, a party he hates.</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">I cannot write any long, I cannot see, my keyboard is
wet with tears, may be next time I can finish this piece. I have much more to
say about the bespectacled boy who used to play hide n seek around my house,
and I will write it.</span></div>
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</div>
ANSHUMANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01549116518292672804noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383852000298706866.post-9911974528436132872014-05-21T22:49:00.001-07:002014-09-28T03:57:39.438-07:006 THINGS A FACCHA CAN LEARN FROM HARRY POTTER SERIES:<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span> 1 <span style="font-size: 7pt;">.</span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Having family terms with a head
master (HoD) always helps</span>. <b><i>Even if he is gay</i></b></span></span></h2>
<div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R5bZufvTdsU/U32NpZQ8MFI/AAAAAAAAAMc/q7iSepAWth8/s1600/vlcsnap-2014-05-22-10h14m20s8.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R5bZufvTdsU/U32NpZQ8MFI/AAAAAAAAAMc/q7iSepAWth8/s1600/vlcsnap-2014-05-22-10h14m20s8.png" height="156" width="400" /></a></div>
<div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></span></div>
<h2 style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><div style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><i> 2</i></b></span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-indent: -18pt;">.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Always have the topper in your
group<i>;</i></span><b style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><i> need I say more.</i></b></span></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RZGtqeBKG3k/U32N8fqAV_I/AAAAAAAAAMk/qgJIVWrRRps/s1600/vlcsnap-2014-05-22-10h13m24s195.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RZGtqeBKG3k/U32N8fqAV_I/AAAAAAAAAMk/qgJIVWrRRps/s1600/vlcsnap-2014-05-22-10h13m24s195.png" height="158" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="text-indent: -18pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-style: italic;"> 3.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;"> </span><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Don’t wait for the next semester to
learn something important, you never know when it can come handy,</span><b style="font-weight: bold;"> </b></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="font-weight: bold; text-indent: -18pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><b>Patronus charm.</b><i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8OaAe8C_57M/U32OVmZ12YI/AAAAAAAAAMs/_8fJNo0FTK0/s1600/vlcsnap-2014-05-22-10h17m50s107.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8OaAe8C_57M/U32OVmZ12YI/AAAAAAAAAMs/_8fJNo0FTK0/s1600/vlcsnap-2014-05-22-10h17m50s107.png" height="158" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><b><br /></b></span></div>
</div>
<div style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;"></span><br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><i><span lang="EN-US">4.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;"> </span><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></i></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Never do favoritism in team selections
if you are the captain</span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">.</span> </i><b style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><i>You may end up losing both match and the friend.<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;">
</span></div>
</div>
<div style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Xh_M676wM30/U32OhFOJAOI/AAAAAAAAAM0/v4BuVh5L5P8/s1600/vlcsnap-2014-05-22-10h30m53s254.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Xh_M676wM30/U32OhFOJAOI/AAAAAAAAAM0/v4BuVh5L5P8/s1600/vlcsnap-2014-05-22-10h30m53s254.png" height="168" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="text-indent: -18pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;"><b><i><span lang="EN-US">5.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></i></b><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US" style="font-weight: normal;">Don’t be late in asking a girl out</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">. <b><i>Because,
there are others too<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;">
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9Yf-IoqLCBU/U32Ov9abDcI/AAAAAAAAAM8/qi2uc37R40w/s1600/vlcsnap-2014-05-22-10h20m59s171.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9Yf-IoqLCBU/U32Ov9abDcI/AAAAAAAAAM8/qi2uc37R40w/s1600/vlcsnap-2014-05-22-10h20m59s171.png" height="158" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VFgFuGK3t3s/U32O32SrmWI/AAAAAAAAANE/IBHxrTV9nTY/s1600/vlcsnap-2014-05-22-10h24m44s149.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VFgFuGK3t3s/U32O32SrmWI/AAAAAAAAANE/IBHxrTV9nTY/s1600/vlcsnap-2014-05-22-10h24m44s149.png" height="158" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="text-align: left; text-indent: -18pt;">6<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;"> . </span><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;"> </span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="text-align: left; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Win
at least one inter college fest,</span><i>before sending red roses every where</i></span></div>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PiWoBOto0k8/U32PdkSSPWI/AAAAAAAAANM/QNfzopZip88/s1600/vlcsnap-2014-05-22-10h28m32s125.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PiWoBOto0k8/U32PdkSSPWI/AAAAAAAAANM/QNfzopZip88/s1600/vlcsnap-2014-05-22-10h28m32s125.png" height="158" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><b style="font-style: italic;"><i><br /></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><b style="font-style: italic;"><i><br /></i></b></span></div>
</h3>
<h2 style="margin-left: 54pt; text-indent: -18pt;">
<i>Avada kedavra.....</i></h2>
</span></span></h2>
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<span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
ANSHUMANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01549116518292672804noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383852000298706866.post-41018078626686928152014-05-18T14:59:00.000-07:002014-09-28T04:00:01.082-07:00Essential Survival Guide for Men in India<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
WoW, you found no other coordinates on this vast earth , but India
to take birth. So,welcome to the grind asshole.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
1. First thing that everybody will hide from you is the forbidden
knowledge of sex, and that's the reason you get to know it pretty early. But,
remember ,that knowledge can never turn practical until you have not fed at
least a thousand fat ass people and spent half your fortune on the drama, which
is called the Great Indian Marriage.95% of Indians work their ASS off just that
nobody can raise a bloody finger when they marry off the product of their loins. So,
bottom line, unless you look like Ryan Gosling, make your right hand your Girlfriend
(It will never fail you).<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
2. Never ever, I repeat, Never ever (not unlike Arnab) pick up
paint brush or read any poetry except for exams or if Art n Crafts Madam wears
a deep neck blouse. And don't even think of composing or writing something new.
It's a crime in India you came out of the womb with just one mission , to
crush the exams/entrances and give an orgasm to your good-for- nothing
teachers and a heart attack to your neighbour/relative whose ward
just lost it by one mark and now cannot find another house to escape the
taunts.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<b><i>Van-Goghs</i></b><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>in India are not killed by bullets but
with arrows of poisonous taunts.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
3. Commit all the gotras, sub-fucking -gotras, the caste lines,<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><b>which-surname-means-which caste</b><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>to your memory even before the first
hair strand grows under those balls. Use this search engine whenever a girl
smiles at you. It will prevent a serious heart injury later.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
4. Never task "real questions” to your teachers unless you
want to end up on their blacklist. This is a cardinal sin. Just ask whether the
topic is "in the syllabus or not". Indians have passed their knowledge
(I mean Gita, Vedas etc ) from one generation to another verbally. So, if you
can rote learn anything, you can easily find yourself among the top three names
on the blackboard. Start practicing on that pretty early. It will come handy
all your life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
5. Hard work in India means only one thing, doing sincerely the
job which you hate with all your guts and excelling in it. Learn this craft
early.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
6. The only period of Independence you will get is between the end
of college and marriage. After that you will have two masters, boss for the day
and bitch for the night. So, whatever your dreams or desires are,make a list
and just fuck it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
7. If you are a north Indian, never work in South India and vice
versa. It’s self-explanatory. All scientists and Phds are from South and all
truck drivers from north. So, believe me, don't do that. Because ,nobody gets<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><b><i>Ananya</i></b><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>in Chennai, but<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><b><i>Anna.</i></b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
8. If you think, hard work and sincerity and for that matter
honesty will take you places, you shouldn't have come out on the delivery due
date. Sycophancy and butt licking is the first course you will learn in your
day job. So, better start early.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<b><i>PS: I just couldn't sleep, hence the bullshit.</i></b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
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ANSHUMANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01549116518292672804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383852000298706866.post-49539991750840117412014-05-06T01:25:00.003-07:002014-09-28T03:57:39.434-07:009 things every-body assumes about Kashmiris/kashmir<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: left;">
1 .We all
want to be terrorists. <b><i>Some of us work too.</i></b><br />2. We have
a compulsory arms training course in P.O.K .</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
3. Wearing
a <b><i>pharain</i></b> means that we are hiding a Kalashinkov inside. <b><i>Actually,it
freezes in winter.</i></b><br />4. We never
bathe. <b><i>We too have electricity.</i></b><br />5. All Kashmiris
daily eat wazwan at their homes. <b><i>Some of us are vegetarians too</i></b>.<br />6. Its snows
in every part of J&K. <b><i>It’s not Ice-land for God’s sake.</i></b><br />7. We eat
apples “n” times a day. <b><i>No, we sell them instead</i></b><br />8. We speak
only Urdu. <b><i>We have the highest English literacy rate in the country</i></b><br />9. We
speak hindi like Afghans do in Bollywood movies.</div>
</div>
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</div>
ANSHUMANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01549116518292672804noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383852000298706866.post-46353524433334525522014-05-06T00:32:00.000-07:002014-09-28T03:57:39.429-07:007 reasons, why a Tarantino movie will fail in India<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">
</div>
<ol>
<li>It doesn’t have a mindless dancing sequence,
where the hero and heroine (viewers too) take a break from the story and let
the dance director show case his talent.</li>
<li>It has long conversations where characters are straight
faced, how can we stand that?</li>
<li>It actually has a story which is not run of the
mill.</li>
<li>In the end everyone can die too. It is
preposterous for us (We are Ramanand Sagar fans)</li>
<li>Hero doesn’t always win. Unlike Chennai Express</li>
<li>We cannot stand blood and gore. We like <b><i>dishum
dishum</i></b><i> .</i></li>
<li>We don’t like back and forth sub-plots in our
movies. Story can go back only if there is “Pichla/Punar Janam”.</li>
</ol>
<br /></div>
ANSHUMANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01549116518292672804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383852000298706866.post-37960498705923687372014-05-02T23:34:00.000-07:002014-05-03T09:35:20.942-07:00Geisha ......tragic but imaginative<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span class="jung-review-title review-style" style="display: block; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1.1em; margin: 0px; max-width: 838px; min-width: 538px; word-wrap: break-word;"><span style="color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;">I read a free PDF version of it. It is basically a life story of a sophisticated traditional Japanese escort during World War II era. I have read auto-bio's/memoirs of a hell lot of people eg. Saddam Hussein, Hitler, Gandhi, Marie Curie, Feynman, Gen Musharraf, Ramakrishna Paramhans, Steve Jobs , you just name it . But there is something different in this book. The book has a very uncanny narration. She is not hurried into unloading her emotions but very patiently through imaginative and thought provoking ways gives the analogies of her circumstances with some objects around her (may be like a bark of a tree). She takes the reader inside the world of a Geisha , how they are plucked away from their family at a very age. How she herself was tricked by the same very person she regarded very highly.</span></span><br />
<div class="reviewsText" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px; margin: 12px 0px 18px; max-width: 838px; min-width: 512px; word-wrap: break-word;">
Her description of the hardships she faced during her early formative years as a Geisha will wrung your heart with pain. She plans and attempts escapes but it always ends up getting severe beating by the hands of the House lady.<br />
Later on as the years pile up, she herself wants to be a geisha to escape the drudgery of working like a house maid in the Geisha house and works hard on her training. Their training includes dancing, cooking, public behavior, ways to please a man and steer the conversation in a direction which pleases him. Young geisha's also have to do an internship also with some senior geisha. And observe her and learn how she entertains her customers in taverns and pubs. The part of the story which disgusted me the most was the "Mizuage" thing. Mizuage is the unbroken hymen of a virgin Geisha. For a newly initiated Geisha this is a prized thing. Rich people bid for the " mizuage " and the person who bids highest gets to break the seal. Such a pathetic practice. And the Geisha has to select the bidders by offering them rice Cakes. The way the narrator has described the consummation scene, it make you hate sex and that is a very difficult thing to do seeing that 70% of books sell because of sexual passages.<br />
<br />
The silver lining in this manuscript the tender feeling she had for a man who was a friend of her client.That man had once while she was young given her his handkerchief which she had kept all these years inside a secret cabinet inside her elaborate traditional make up box,<br />
<br />
Even if you have no interest in the Japanese way of life or anything. Just read the book for its vivid imaginations, it makes your look at the world with a different shade of lens.<br />
<br />
I loved the book and it will stay with me for a long time to come.<br />
<br />
Must read.</div>
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PS: I watched the movie, it's pretty honest with the book , but somehow i don't like images being fed into my brain, I'd rather imagine the same in the studio over my shoulders.</div>
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ANSHUMANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01549116518292672804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383852000298706866.post-69227250205468708342014-02-08T07:55:00.001-08:002014-09-28T04:02:08.547-07:00Writing Marathon....Saturday Night<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I have finally decided , that enough is enough and lets stop day dreaming and do something concrete.<br />
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What are my major goals:<br />
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To get published before this year ends, well that's along term plan.<br />
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Before this month ends , I need to come up with 3 stories , one play in English....and clear cut plan for my novel "Project Irfan" and I want to open a Bookshop cum Cafe named kashmir Book Shop in near future.<br />
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And also loose 5 Kgs by the end of this month and go regularly to GYM morning 6 am to 7 am for next 10 days.<br />
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But today on this Saturday night I want to start and finish a story write here right now...<br />
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But do I have an Idea, any outline???...I have a couple , normally when I start penning down a story , I start with very enthusiasm , but somewhere in the middle I loose the plot and then it adds to the list of unfinished symphonies and becomes a source of pain rather than joy. But having finished another couple of books of Archer/Satyajit/Bond, I am confident I can hold my ground this time around and not let the story overwhelm me.<br />
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Lets see how that starts<br />
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Dated: 15-02-2014...11:38 PM<br />
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After a lengthy discussion with my flat mate on the my future , I finally did what i was itching to do from the last 2 months. I finished writing a story after a marathon 1.5 hour non stop writing . I normally type my pieces in my laptop , but this time I was like in a trance and I grabbed whatever was close to me , lest I loose it again<br />
It was a story I had heard long back. I still remember how that story changed my views about ghosts and everything and how my father had to accompany to washroom that night. I was so frightened after that.<br />
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I hope I was able to do justice to the story. Most of it is in first person, and that "flow" problems which I was facing have been partially resolved and I hope my lines will make your brain Imagine the various situation and places the story goes into. I have finished its end this time. I have an incomplete novel and 10 other stories lying in an obscure folder on my company's lappy. But this time I have gone a bit ahead . The only thing different I did this time was think through the whole story and imagine those things happening to me. Suddenly the fear of another In-complete story was over and a sense of adventure started. All the shitty thoughts took a back seat and only the story remained in my damaged brain. My heart beat followed the ups and downs of the protagonist and it was a treat writing about 12 pages in a single go.<br />
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Though forgot to order dinner and now at 11:38 PM all we have are a few loafs of bread left, and my hand is paining a lot.<br />
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Now ,tomorrow I will finally type it out and edit it. I may have to read the grammar again and a check for "primary level" blunders in my piece. It difficult though , but one has to made it readable .....<br />
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ANSHUMANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01549116518292672804noreply@blogger.com0