The Incidental Criminal Part III: Mosqatma Ganphi

Contrary to popular perception among humans, not all mosquitoes bite just in order to procure blood to sustain themselves. In an average lifetime of about 3 days, a mosquito hardly needs 7-8 drops of blood to keep itself alive. Ten tops.

Not unlike humans, a mosquito is a very moody and emotional creature. Apart from the obvious need for nutrition and feeding the young ones, it may even bite you simply out of boredom. Then, there are special mosquito units in each major mosquito empire that are involved in continuously replenishing a stockpile of human blood as well as blood from some other organisms to be used in times of crisis.

Interestingly, mosquitoes prefer human blood to that of other organisms, owing to the relative hygiene and superior living conditions of humans. One may find sufficient amounts of a variety of flavors of human blood in all upper class mosquito households.

Then, there are the law enforcement mosquitoes that carry out sentences against humans involved in large-scale massacres of mosquitoes.

There are what you may call “adrenaline junkies” that mess with humans just to derive a sense of adventure in their lives.

There are petty criminal warlords who carry a vicious vendetta against humans for one reason or the other; and bite them with lethal bio-weaponry, thus inflicting their own massacres on the humans, which obviously led to further retaliation by humans.

It was not always like this though. For a brief period of history there was a grand revolution in the whole mosquito world. The mosquito that led the movement came into the picture when the mosquito governments and non-state actors both organized and encouraged mindless attacks on humans and other organisms. In such times of great turmoil, came from the huge city-state of Mosquit, Ganphi, a mosquito that challenged the very core of the mosquito society.

He lived a very simple life. He disapproved of all kinds of violence, even if they meant biting someone to satisfy hunger. He spent his entire life of 54 hours on nothing but fruit juices and mould; inspiring a whole generation of non-biters among mosquitoes.

A lawyer by profession, he gave up a glittering career in order to fight for the rights of the lowest strata in the mosquito society-the aphids, that after being stolen from the ant farms were used as labor for various chores and forced to live a moribund life. The government under the King Pintoinitially resisted and tried to shut off any dissent, but by then, Ganphi had caught the imagination of the nation’s youth and the huge aphid populations who rallied behind him and forced the government to bend to their will in a non-violent movement.

Having gained the support and trust of an entire generation of mosquitoes, Ganphi started taking up other causes as well. He implored upon the mosquito society to understand and value the life of others, that they should bite only as much as they need, that they should recognize the right to life with dignity for all organisms. He severely criticized the preferential biting of humans just because of their hygiene.

He fought for equal rights for the male mosquitoes who had been reduced to ceremonial show-pieces.

His radical ideas and their support also led to the creation of extremist factions within the mosquito society. These were the ones who believed mosquitoes to be the most superior race off all and disapproved of Ganphi’s thinking.And it was one such disillusioned extremist that killed the Mosqatma. The mosquito who abhorred violence all his life, who didn’t bite a single living soul, was brutally killed in a mindless act of rage.

Today, when the mosquito world is yet again embroiled in turmoil, it awaits the arrival of another Ganphi.

The Incidental Reckoning

From as long as I can remember, I have always been an indulgent person. Whether it be enjoying delicious delicacies, watching all time classic movies, or any other form of recreation, I go to great pains, and look after specific details, in order to enjoy the most from these experiences.

So, when I realised that the summer of 2011 was going to be the final vacation of my life, my brain went into overdrive planning what all I intended to do, before the ‘end of the days’ as it were. Detailed lists were made into the number and variety of snacks that are pleasing to my insatiable tongue, and the days available for me to devour them, taking special care that favourites like khaman and patra are repeated on multiple occasions. In fact, I think now, that had I started preparing on these arrangements a bit earlier, I would have easily mastered the subject of Industrial Management Techniques, which ended up giving me quite a hard time in my final semester.

When it came to recreation, I had a fairly extensive list of bestseller books that I had been dying to read, but couldn’t do so on account of the busy schedule during college. The first book on the list was ‘The Lost Symbol’ by Dan Brown, which I had been meaning to read for quite some time. Thus, on an occasional visit to the railway station recently, I enquired about that book at the Wheeler’s book shop. It cost Rs. 700. Now, those of you who know me well enough will readily attest to the fact that I am an extremely miserly person. It is simply not in my nature to spend money freely. So, this sudden condition severely dented my well thought-out plans of enjoying fiction during these holidays. Just as I was about to leave the shop, my gaze fell on Gandhi’s autobiography.

Now, there are certain moments in life when one acts in ways that one cannot explain at a later time. Until then, I was not particularly interested in the life of Gandhi. Though I respected the man for popularising the idea of non-violence, and pioneering such a struggle to that effect, I had always frowned upon his views on practically all other subjects.

Maybe I was attracted by the Rs. 30 tag on the book, or by the mysterious personality of the man himself, but I have been engrossed in this book for quite some time now.

There is a certain sense of romanticism in reading a person’s description of their own life. I imagined, would the Mahatma have known the minute way in which his words would be contemplated by the future generations, the same words that must have flown out of him in a fit of ruthless honesty. From what I have read, the man seems to have tremendous insight into his own self. He is objective in the analysis of his life, to the point of sounding monotonous over events in his life and pertaining to his family, which must have had great sentimental value, to have been etched in his mind since his childhood.

In addition, I find Gandhi extremely honest and truthful; such an honest assessment as well as narrative of one’s life can only come from being at peace with one’s own expectations and those of the rest of the world or perhaps an utter disregard for what the others might think. I have hardly read a hundred pages of the book, and I already feel inspired by the brute honesty the man has displayed, when he could have as easily written a self-righteous tale of a saint using prudish, complex and vague words.

In his many flaws, and the ways in which he overcomes them, Gandhi has made himself not into the ultimate standard of morality but a beacon of hope for desirable change in each one of us.

So, what was intended as an entertaining summer replete with Robert Langdon running the length of some country’s museums and historical buildings, chased by a variety of intelligence agencies seeking some treasure or hidden truth, turned into a period of enlightenment and self-reckoning for me. Must say, that’s the best 30 rupees I ever spent or perhaps the best 700 rupees I didn’t.

Prologue: Dreaming The End

Author's note: A Prologue and a brief glimpse into the initial draft of a 3 part story that I have been writing for quite some time...

Suggestions and Feedback are most welcome...

In the year 2019, as the human population increased manifold with advancements in medical science, while the resources became scarce, a civil war ensued throughout the world, with the world's poor up in the arms against the rich for their lavish lifestyles, while the poor slogged it out.

It was under these circumstances, that Altacruz, a pharmaceutical company came out of obscurity with a drug and a device that shaped a person's dreams to last longer, and become more believable, with the person dreaming them having better control on the events happening in their dream. Originally meant to help treat the people suffering from paralysis or those in a vegetative state, it fast became an outlet for the poor and the disgruntled for a better chance at life. Numerous underground facilities started operating in the Third world countries, and soon the wonder drug became more popular and elusive than the conventional ones. With no known side effects, there was nothing the government agencies could do to limit its use. However, it is widely believed that certain governments secretly flooded their markets with the drug in order to contain the civil war and pacify the protestors into silence.

However, there were concerns all around the world. Wouldn't everyone want to live like that? Where everyone could live the perfect life they craved, wouldn't people want to let go of reality altogether. If that were to happen, our society and technology had the danger of going into stagnation. A species that had developed and innovated consistently over 3000 years would have degenerated.

However, those in favor of the “Wonder Drug”, opined that such a drug would not only help end the civil unrest, but might also arrest the pace of depletion of Earth’s natural resources for a while. After all, if people spent more time sleeping, they would be conserving most of their energy, and will thus need not only less food, but less fuel and electricity.

In order to further publicize its usefulness, Altacuz financed certain experiments which ultimately went on to prove that prolonged exposure to the drug can lead to an increase in the usage of the sub-conscious mind, and thus, a person’s inherent ability to innovate and invent will overtime, increase drastically.

By the end of the year 2038, this new technology had become a way of life for many. What started off as an experiment into an alternate form of entertainment, became so popular among the people at large, that even the rich with supposedly everything one could ask for were ready to shell out large amounts of money for securing an alternate life in this exciting realm.

A number of side businesses flourished customized for the fantasies of the rich, where the dream machine offered one 30 day experience into the star wars, or the harry potter universes by partly controlling and manipulating your dreams.

And so, now, in the year 2042, only 500 million off the total population of 7 billion lives on in the reality. Carbon-di oxide levels are at an all time low, the human population has stabilized, even though most economies have effectively shut down because of the lack of consumer demand. Even then, poverty is non-existent.

National boundaries have become irrelevant as has been the prospect of war. All Weapon development programs throughout the world have been halted.

There is a deafening silence throughout the planet.

There hasn’t been a single scientific innovation in the past 4 years.

A thousand light years away, an alien civilization plans its next trip to the planet Earth...

To be continued...

Life at the centre of the crowd

Have you ever stood beside a busy road teeming with traffic?

Have you ever looked closely as a mob of strangers passes by, going about their lives completely oblivious to your existence?

You will never set your eyes on some of them again, while many others will whizz past you every day and it would still not matter.

There is a small boy balanced precariously on the lap of an elder, his face all scrunched up, as he tries to make the best of whatever small space he has been allotted, while trying to shield his eyes from the sun. He is waiting eagerly, for this journey to end, simultaneously longing to become old enough to command a seat of his own in this small family car catering to the 8 members of this middle class family.

Suddenly our eyes meet. He seems curious, as he momentarily sidelines his discomfort and smiles at me. I look away as the old Maruti 800 speeds past.

I scourge around for my next target.

There is a seemingly well-to-do and successful gentleman sitting in the back of a Honda City obviously being driven around by his underpaid driver. The driver doesn’t seem to complain, or perhaps he doesn’t have a choice.

A small girl is being driven back home by her mother from her school on the Activa. She seems happy. It reminds me of the school days. Suddenly, an unruly biker scares her by his excessively loud honking. Her mother is way too experienced to let that affect her as she nods her head disapprovingly and moves out of the way. The girl spots me in the midst of the crowd and looks on quizzically as they too speed past me.

The children are more aware and observant than the elders.

After a minute or two, an old man, pushing his laari selling nuts halts in front of me, out of breath from roaming around in the scorching sun. He looks on expectantly at the crowd on the bus-stop, his gaze lingering over me a moment longer, what with me staring at him.

I look away, again.

I am hygiene conscious.

That is a polite way of stating that I don’t consider what he sells or eats as edible.

I make a silent vow to help such people once I start earning on my own. Deep inside, a part of me doubts the sincerity of that commitment.

The old man looks around, sighs, and resumes his unending journey.

Suddenly a crowd of people starts converging onto the main road. The bus has arrived. Thus, ends another uneventful day in the life of India.

Ambition, Prosperity, Flexibility, Poverty and above all, Indifference. That is India for you.

Nishkantos and the Merry men Part-I

In memory of the erstwhile PAT/VAWT Boys...:D

Disclaimer: Any resemblance to a real lively person/persons is purely intentional...:D

Once upon a time, there lived in the Ancient realm of the West, four legendary warriors, Nishkantos, Sagaricus, Pajax and Hershules. They enjoyed an enviable reputation throughout the lands for their skill, knowledge and dedication in the field of Warcraft. They had defeated many an evil warlord on their numerous journeys through land and seas. With their strong camaraderie and mutual respect, they had been an inseparable band of brothers, and local folklore sang paeans to their friendship.

The warriors roamed to far and distant lands in order to acquire more knowledge. On the way, they used to utilise their skills to help and protect the needy and the oppressed.

One day, on another one of their journeys passing through a dark and frightening forest, they came across an old inn. They decided to call it a day, and rest in that inn. They knocked on the door.

There was no reply. After sometime, they knocked again.

“I am asleep right now; come back after two hours”, said a voice from the inside.

The warriors looked at each other in confusion. Pajax knocked again.

“Hello, dear sir, we are warriors from the West. We need a place to rest for the night.”

The door flung open immediately.

“Warriors ! Ah, welcome, welcome, do come in. I apologise for my behaviour. It is not everyday, that one receives proper warriors in such far off places. Most of the time, it is either the lunatics or the henchmen of evil warlords. By the way, I am Avidius, the innkeeper.”

“Hello, sir, I am Nishkantos, and these are my friends Pajax, Sagaricus and Hershules. We are warriors from the West. We need lodgings for the night.”

“Of course, my friends, there is plenty of food and space for all of you. I will prepare for your dinner shortly. Make yourselves comfortable”, said Avidius.

That night, the four warriors enjoyed a hearty meal with Avidius the innkeeper.

Early in the morning, they bid Avidius farewell and continued on their journey. They had walked hardly a hundred yards when they heard a shrill cry from the other side of the forest. They looked at each other. At a distance there was a sharp noise of doors and windows being shut by the old innkeeper.

Sensing trouble, and deciding not to leave their friend, the innkeeper in such a dangerous situation, they headed back to the inn and knocked.

There was no reply. They knocked again.

BAM !!!!

Avidius slammed the door open. He had a shotgun in one hand and a dagger in the other. On seeing the four warriors, the innkeeper heaved a sigh of relief.

“Äh, it is you again”, sighed the innkeeper.

“Whom were you expecting?” asked Sagaricus.

“But the werewolves, of course. Do you not know? This forest is infested by a pack of werewolves. I thought that was the reason you came here in the first place.”

“So, that is the reason why no one lives around here. But, then why do you continue to run your inn at such a place?”

“Hahaha, because someone must. Someone must put up a stand. There was a time, when I was a warrior myself. Me and my friends were travelling through this place, when we were divided, and murdered by these werewolves. I was the only survivor. On that day, I took an oath not to leave this forest until I avenge my friends.”

“And we shall help you in fulfilling that oath”, said Nishkantos.

The other three nodded in approval.

“Thank you, my friends. I am sure, that with your help, we will be able to rid this land of these cursed creatures.”

“So, how many werewolves are there, exactly?“, asked Hershules.

The pack consisted of 30 werewolves when we arrived here. I have already killed 12. That still leaves around 20 of them.

“Hmmm..But there is one problem Avidius, we have never faced a werewolf before”, said Sagaricus, to which the other three warriors nodded.

“Fear not, my dear friend, for I will teach you how and with what to hunt them with”, reassured Avidius.

Over the next few days, the four warriors worked tirelessly as Avidius taught them the correct way of killing a werewolf with a silver dagger and silver bullets. Together, they made an infallible plan to rid the land of werewolves forever.

On the fifth night, Avidius accompanied by the four warriors scourged the forests for werewolves and killed them all, thus making the forest a safer place for humans and animals alike.

The news spread like wild fire across the region. Avidius’s business started booming, and he decided to stick to his inn, and perhaps even expand to neighbouring areas. The forest was bustling with life, again.

Thus, enriched with new knowledge, the four warriors bid Avidius farewell, and continued along their journey into the forest.

Unbeknownst to them, Sandikrates, sheriff of a nearby village, followed them into the forest.

The Natrium Trials : Part I

Author's note: I wrote this piece 6-7 years ago when I was still at school. Found it today out of sheer coincidence...Now, I plan to make a series out of it :D...So, here goes...

To

Mr. Sodium Natrium,

s-block,

I Group,

III Period,

Modern Periodic Table.

Date: 22 Sept. 2005

Dear Sir,

It has come to our notice that on 21 September, 2005, under normal conditions, 1 bar pressure, and a recorded temperature of 300.6K, you unprovokedly and illegally attacked Mr. Dihydrogen Oxide (Director of the international confederation of important chemical compounds), also injuring several hundreds of atoms of Mr. Nitrogen, Mr. Oxygen and Mr. Argon in the process.

You are, hereby punished under sections 369, 321(II) of Modern Periodic Law and suspended pending enquiry from the International union of reactive metals. You will be kept under the custody of Mr. Kerosene until your hearing for safety reasons. We seek your full cooperation. A copy of the charges against you has been attached.

Have a nice day.

Xenon Xe,

Elemental law enforcement,

Zero group, VI period,

Modern Periodic Table.

ATTACHED:

The charges leveled against you are:

• A deliberate suicide attack on Mr. Dihydrogen Oxide.

• Injuring 1260 molecules (2164 atoms) of Mr. Nitrogen, Mr. Oxygen, and Mr. Argon.

• Severely disturbing the entropy of the system.

Endless Possibilities...

With the end of the final year, many of my friends have been overcome with feelings of sadness and nostalgia. Almost every day I see a new sentimental message on Facebook, with a number of others liking it. A slew of photo albums invariably titled the by now clichéd expression “Clg Life” have invaded the facebook. It seems like an over-extended "Ekta Kapur Cry series". From the other end where I stand, they all seem way too attached to a place, trying desperately to hold onto something which we always knew was a temporary preparatory phase for the real thing.

What is college life? It is like when a tourist on one of his vacations goes to the Alps, sees a particularly magnificent and beautiful view and hopes that that moment never ends. So, he stands there, clicks photos, and even after going back home can’t get those moments out of his head; but don’t forget; living in the Alps, looking at the wonderful scenery isn’t going to earn you 4 lakhs a year, to have a life, a family, to contribute to society and development of mankind.

Similarly, college life is like a vacation each of us takes, we learn something, we find something beautiful (I am just being metaphorical here :P) and worth remembering, but real life lies ahead, where we work as engineers, scientists, designers, teachers. That is the point of our existence. Not to appreciate the Alps, they are just a diversion, a break, a small sub-chapter in the larger subject of life. The point is to experience each and every aspect of society and mankind and move on to the next, until, there is nothing more left to see.

To me, it is going to be the beginning of the best time of my life. I may seem like a "Cold-hearted bastard" and maybe I truly am one. It has already happened to me twice. On leaving school, I was way too happy to get emotional like my other friends. This is because, I have always wanted to be treated as a mature adult, to have a job, to engage in discussions related to politics, economy, and work over dinner at parties, just like adults do. Until now, people have never taken me seriously, which makes me regret my present status as a student. So, each transition makes me even more excited.

Likewise, there are two ways of looking at what we have had in the last 4 years. One is that we keep looking back at the path and end up tripping ahead, or take a final glance, smile, and move on. Personally, though it is a hard choice, I prefer the second option.

To top it, I have found that "moving on" comes naturally to me. I do not get emotionally attached with people. Except for 4-5 of them, I rarely talk to any of my school friends; that after having studied together for 12 straight years. I actually feel rather uncomfortable around them, since I have absolutely nothing worthwhile to talk about with them. I have only returned once to my school of 12 years, just to obtain my leaving certificate. I am pretty sure that I may never return to SVNIT.

This is not to say that I will completely cut-off this phase of my life. I will remain in contact with some of the best friends that I have made here. But for all of my friends, my only advice is to remember me as I am right now, and cherish those memories. It is inevitable that I will be a changed man the next time we meet, as all of us will be. The point is to not forget the person you originally befriended. If you do that, it will clear you of unnecessary anguish. If you are the overtly touchy-feely type, well bask in your misery.

So, dear tourist, even though it is beautiful, you will eventually get bored of looking at the Alps. So stop holding on to that memory. Learn to let go, because the real beauty of life lies in its endless, unpredictable possibilities. Embrace this fact. May you all, Live Long And Prosper.