Upheaval – Chapter 3

Please read the previous chapter here

Author name : Neharika Sethi Mehra

*******************

Seshadri and Venkat still chose to grab a cup of tea and started walking towards Seshadri’s favourite tea shop. While they walked, both seemed lost in their own silence. Trying to put the pieces of this murder puzzle together, as they looked lost in their own thoughts. Taking a cutting chai, Seshadri couldn’t do without his fuel, his favourite samosa.

 

Suddenly Venkat as if in despair moved his hand. “we seem to get nowhere with this case, tying the loose ends with such little information is difficult without a doubt, but Sehshadri, I have seen you solving so many cases, I am sure we can do it together.” Seshadri have him a terrible look, he didn’t like being disturbed while eating even when it was a matter of life or death.

 

As they were done eating, they decided to dig deep and enquire further. After a few minutes of brainstorming Venkat suddenly came up with a suggestion, “Let’s meet Lipika, the landlord. I’m sure she’s been in touch with the couple and would know something at least.”

 

Lipika lived on 6th Floor of Vedika Apartments. A posh locality and with a few small gardens all around but as Seshadri’s luck would have it, the lift wasn’t working. Seshadri was out of breath as he took the flight of stairs. “Venkat, I am never working on a case that involves taking stairs, please call up your friend Chaturvedi next time you need help with a case.” Venkat looked at him irritated, “Seshadri you’ve lost your mind and patience with age I guess. Why do you forget the rewards these cases get you? You are known more as a detective than a lawyer and you can thank me later for that. “This argument won’t take us anywhere Seshadri, let’s get back to business buddy, both us want this case solved.” Finally agreeing to Venkat they proceeded to Lipika’s house.

 

As they knocked her door, a short fair woman opened it by a few inches and gave them a skeptical look. Lipika was in her mid fifties and lived alone while her husband worked abroad. Her two sons were married and lived in Bangalore. She let them in after Venkat showed her the badge, “Sub-inspector Venkat Phansalkar”, he said. “See, I know why you’ve come here, I got the news too. Please have a seat but let me tell you I don’t know anything.”  Immediately Seshadri responded, “We are only here to ask about any detail that you know given your interaction with her as a landlady. Without wasting any time please tell us all you know of the couple, especially his wife.”

 

“They’ve been staying in my house for last five years and over these years my interaction with them has been very professional and to the point. I won’t say they were madly in love, not that I knew them too well like I earlier mentioned. But with our brief meetings I could sense that. The husband had had issues in his business hence I wasn’t paid the rent in time. They had no kids.”

 

Venkat further tried to interrogate her and said, “Oh! That would have caused some trouble to you!” “Of course! I had been expressing my wish to sell off the house too but Sukanya wouldn’t listen.” Seshadri looked at her with all his detective instincts. He had been observing people all his life as a lawyer, and his observation had mostly been correct. He added, “Since you wanted to sell the house, did you tell them to pack themselves off?”

Lipika, almost shouting in anger and disappointment said, “I had been giving them warnings to vacate the house but in vain. They always wanted more time both for rent and vacating the house. I really lost it one day and we had a terrible argument. My buyer wasn’t ready to wait and Sukanya wanted time. This was the way god planned for me I guess. I can now have the house and sell it off. Is there anything you’d like to know, I need to carry on with my work.”

 

“Thank you, Ms Lipika for the help, we might trouble you again.” Both stood up and left.

 

On reaching the police station which was close by, they both sat with a file in their hands. Each of the three they had met, be it Sukanya’s husband, her club member or now the landlady, Lipika looked like a suspect to them. Sukanya had been the quiet kinds but Lipika quoted the argument they had and clearly Lipika was known for her revengeful nature, and that even the slightest of things would leave her filled with vengeance as she couldn’t take anyone not agreeing with her.

 

“Could Lipika be involved in the murder in some way?” asked Venkat, “She seemed to look quite satisfied with the news.”

 

“People with vengeance can look very intimidating but we can’t be sure. This does look like a murder to me, blood oozing out from hands and legs shows the murderer was heartless and intended to give a painful death”, added Seshadri. “Venkat, I feel there is a missing link to the whole story. I don’t get this feeling too often and I can bet a hundred samosas on this.”

 

Venkat laughed, “Seshadri, can we ever talk about anything beyond samosas, your soulmate?”

*********************

We are yet to decide on how to take the next chapter.

 

Judgement – Chapter 6

Please read the previous chapter here

Name of the author:  Soumyo Mandal

Note on the author : Born and brought up in Calcutta, got my finer instincts while I stayed during the wild years in Bangalore, I look to crack jokes in the most serious moments, and mostly it backfires. Big fan of Liverpool FC, Boston Celtics, indie music, Orhan Pamuk/Stephen King and improv or comedy in general. Currently residing in Orlando near Disney World, but regretting not being a kid no more.

********************************

Chapter 6

How cold is the uncle?

 Silence. Apart from the tick tock of the clock, there was not a sound. Kwon was interacting with the latest subject, earlier. But for the first time in his life he is really scared. He is tired, withered. Who is to stop him if he jumps from the balcony into the water fall. His years as a marine and then as a FBI agent, taught him a combination of toughness and as well as to always keep his mind open and look for the right moment. But he’s been looking for that moment for 25 years! He cracked a wry smile and looked at the surveillance camera at the corner of the room. Rusk Thelmes was a little startled.

It’s been so many years since Rusk Thelmes saw his father’s dead body. Even now the sound of rain, and the smell of chemicals, brings back the memories of the fateful night. While Rusty Thelmes, was immersed with his work, Rusk was terribly proud as his father always used to say “I am trying to change the world, but you WILL change the world. Don’t look at the stars my son, look within the world, a lot needs to be done to alter the human instincts.” Rusk was never close to his mother, Melissa. After the first few years of marriage, Rusty got very involved with work, and Melissa could notice the whisperings and rumblings, receiving of a package occasionally, when her husband will just stay at the lab till days.

Once upon a time Kwon was in love. After his first tour to Afghanistan, Kwon came back to Rusty’s place. He was young, and Melissa was lonely. This went on for years, and young Rusty walked into them once, but then his mother sat him down and explained “she’s doing a project with Uncle Kwon just like dad, and this needs to be a secret as all of dad’s projects are” Kwon was a bit uncomfortable with this situation, but young age and lust took over his conscience. And then lust turned into love. This “love” for Melissa turned out to be his biggest vice of all. Despite knowing about this affair for years, Rusty was unperturbed. For him it was an eventuality, but not for young Rusk, who grew older and wiser with a fierce anguish against the world and especially his Uncle Kwon and his mom. “Then came the fateful night where his dad died because of an accident in the lab. Coincidentally Kwon was there when it happened. He watched with his very eyes, how the red chemical in the test tube tumbled against the glass and as Rusty leaned closer to examine it, it vaporized and “consumed” him! Unsurprisingly the predicament did not bother Melissa. She seemed freed from the shell of her own doing, and she promised Kwon that she will sell Rusty’s belongings and promised to get rid of every trace of the lab and it’s godforsaken chemicals. Within days she was dead, then Kwon knew, that the hollow abyss in Rusk’s expression was not stoical or indifference, rather it was of a resolution to avenge his father by taking his mother’s life and who ever else comes his way.

 

Kwon was lost in translation for what seemed like forever, when a gentle knock on the door broke his trance. “Come in” Kwon’s voice crackled. Varnia, walked in and smiled at him. “Ready to meet the boss?” she said. Kwon nodded. Once they stepped out in the corridor devoid of Rusk’s prying eyes, Varnia whispered “your training served me well, everything is going according to the plan.”  Kwon sighed “It better!  I did not give half my life in Mwallisso22 and recruiting you for nothing! This is about keeping the United States of America safe, this is about judgement no matter the cost!” He closed his eyes, knowing for the first time in a long time he is lying to himself.

*************************************

Next author is Nithya Sreenivasan. All the very best , Nithya 🙂

Yang is the new Yin- Chapter 2

Please read the previous opinion here

Author name : Jeetwan Tripathy

******************************

Chapter 2

Queen

“Pessimus” she called out loud, gazing sternly at the first of three men standing before her in rapt attention. “What do you have for us?” The other two exhaled and shared a concerned look, as Pessimus stepped forward. “Your Grace, to put it simply, we’re fucked” he said, in a tone true to his title. “We were never supposed to last here this long anyway. It was just a matter of time before we were sent back to our true place in this world”. She looked away, sighing. “You may be right, Pessimus. But your negativity isn’t helping here” she said, looking to the other two for an alternate opinion.

“W-we can still weather this, Your Grace” offered the second man, stepping up, trying to gather his courage, and his wits. “Yes, go on, Optimus” she said reassuringly, her tone betraying her indulgence toward this man’s opinions. The man paused for a second, glancing at his unsmiling compatriot, before continuing with characteristic cheerfulness “We’ve come this far, haven’t we? All your life, at the brink of every battle, you have wondered if you can win. While Pessimus here tries to weigh you down with doubts and fears, I have always been by your side, reaffirming your faith in yourself. And see where it has gotten you so far! You are now the Queen of us all”.

“That’s true” she said softly, seemingly regaining some of her confidence. The first man, red from the snub wasn’t done yet. “Oh yes?” he asked menacingly, his voice loud now. “Where were you when all your flowery plans and dreamy ideas were shattered by the harsh reality of war?” he said, glowering. “When your blind faith in uptopian bullshit led our Queen to nothing but disappointment and betrayal? Where were you, then?” Optimus, not one to back down easily, countered “Watch your tone”. Not so cheerful any more, he continued “Have you forgotten the Great Depression? The horrors that your perpetual paranoia inflicted on our Kingdom’s economy! Not to mention our Queen’s peace of mind!”

The third man cleared his throat. “Gentlemen” he said, but his attempt to intervene was met with more salvos of blame. With every passing second, the exchanges become louder, more heated and increasingly distasteful. “You worthless coward” yelled Pessimus. “WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE US DO NOW, IF NOT RETREAT?” he challenged. Visibly shaken, Optimus looked at his Queen. “Your Grace. If we c-could simply w-wait this out. I’m sure the universe has s-something planned for you. For us! It will all turn out well soon” he said, as Pessimus rolled his eyes, sarcastically quipping “Oh, tHe LiGhT aT tHe eNd oF tHe fucking tUnNeL?”

By now, she was more conflicted than ever. Optimus and Pessimus had brought forth their ideas of war and peace, but neither had provided a solution that was both reasonable and effective. She turned away from them, facing her sigil, her back to them. “I’d like to know what he thinks” she said. Optimus and Pessimus looked at each other and then at the man behind them, realising that he hadn’t received his due in voicing his opinion. The third man cleared his throat, and with subtle confidence, recounted the situation for them all. “Your Grace, we were surrounded, the enemy was at our gates. For obvious reasons, I couldn’t wait for this council’s approval or consensus. I hope you will all forgive me, but I had to take some… measures of my own” he said, looking over his shoulder as the door opened and a soldier approached, carrying a scroll.

As his Queen and compatriots looked on with eagerness, he glanced at the scroll and returned it to the soldier. Looking back at the others, he said “It would seem the measures were successful. The enemy has retreated…”, as the room erupted with joy. He finished his sentence “… for now”, but it was drowned out by the cheers of Optimus and Pessimus as they ran to embrace him. Enveloped in the arms of two men who, moments before, were almost at each other’s throats, he nodded to the soldier, and then at his Queen. She was teary eyed, her face betraying a rare instance of affective emotion, reserved only for her strongest and weakest moments. He smiled at her, as she regained her composure, sat back at her throne, and mouthed, “Thank you, Pragmatus”.

************************

Chronicles of Medu Vada – Language is a subject matter of interpretation…

Because life comes in a full circle. Like Medu Vada.

*****************************************

If you have chronicles in your life that are funnier and worth sharing, please share the write up at indiawritestogether@gmail.com under 1000 words. I will post it in this blog. So, this is like the Sit-down comedy (and I just make that word from Standup comedy) of the blog!

*****************************************

Experiences of Mukundhan Muralidharan

Please read his blog here

*****************************************

Please read the Tamil to English to Hindi dictionary carefully before communicating!

Dude  ————————–दूध————————–தூது

(Referring to a man)           (referring to the drink)                (Referring to the envoy)

Usage: Eg. The dude was gulping down his दूध when the தூது brought him his important news.

 

As a parent, there are multiple decisions you tend to take for your kid. The name, cloth or nappies, whether to pass on the family tradition of woodwards gripe water or to believe frightening WhatsApp based scientific papers of the product, schools with the brand or school with a playground and so on. But none is tougher than the greatest choice of them all – selecting your kid’s second language!!!

My parents made that decision for me. The logic in their head was simple. Tamil can be taught at home. Hindi, however, requires specific external treatment. Now see, this is the problem of coming from a family of teachers – your special classes are scheduled much early. Am sure, if the Wachowskis were prominent in those days, they would have quoted this to me:

“You’ve already made the choice, now you have to understand it.” – Oracle, The Matrix Reloaded

The choice was in no way simple or logical. It so turned out that my primary school Hindi teacher too had similar choices enforced on her as a kid. With no Major Sundarrajan type translations (Yeh Teek Nahi hai. My walking stick is not made of teak”), the transition from Thamizh Thaatha to Rahu Thaatha was a painful process. As though adding new vocabulary to the repertoire wasn’t enough, came the thunderbolt. “In hindi, objects had genders”. I lost it when I realised “Pen was masculine”. Tamil Nadu’s elaborate anti-hindi movement now made complete sense.

However, thanks to not having questions like, “If Aanjum Chopra played the on-drive, would it be called the pen drive? Or should she have been called Penjum Chopra in the first place”, I scraped through my exams in school!

Reprieve, finally….

Or so I thought. The first assignment I was posted to at work was at Nagpur. Excited, I had made elaborate preparations in the build up to the trip – questionnaires were prepared, multiple relevant reports were studied, guesthouse for stay booked and the American tourister that had remained my faithful travel companion for over a decade now purchased. One (not so minor) minor detail was however missed.

The guesthouse caretaker, the client counterparts that I met and even the car driver who took us around spoke and understood only Hindi. And my spoken hindi was, at its best, “thoda thoda aatha hai” range. I think the first conversation, with the driver who asked me if he should bring the van or the car to the airport, had me referring to the festival of lights that follows Diwali (Car-teek-hai). The travails did not stop there. As a typical tambrahm, “curd/ more” was a critical part of any diet. When a polite enquiry for more was made to my guesthouse caretaker, it resulted in him dumping a little more poha into my plate. I knew he was symbolically telling me that I was full of hot air (Pohai).

Handling the client therefore called for a back-up – a colleague whose mother tongue was Hindi. The first few meetings went well. Me asking the client the questions (in English), the client answering in Hindi and my colleague making notes.  Divide and conquer. But then, there was one meeting where my colleague kept constantly nudging me from behind as I went on for over an hour putting questions to this gentleman. Not to be distracted from a meeting that according to me was going very well, I ignored those nudges until the end of the discussion. The proud me was confronted outside the door by the colleague and the nudge this time was almost a punch. “Dude.  The guy was speaking in Marathi and I have zero notes from the meeting!!!”. Damn it. Just when I thought I had figured a workaround!!!

From then to now, I have come a long way. So much so that in Chennai, a place usually known for people’s reluctance to respond in Hindi, for some reason, mistake me for a North Indian speak to me in Hindi. “Anna. Indha road ku epdi poganum” is usually responded to with “Dho kilometre seedha chaliye. Uske baadh left maaro”. Maybe my tamil, they figure, is worse than my Hindi!!

The mis-adventures with languages have not been without its advantages. I am now a multi-linguistic punster (wherein pun is interpreted in its tamil form by those subjected to my literature). Which is why, when my son showed his punster glimpses by pointing at a bird pictured from one side and asked “why is it called a toucan when it has only one kann”, I knew I had to put him through the same drill that I went through!!

I will teach him one day to repeat the following dialogue meticulously, so that people understand the limitations of Tamilians learning hindi:

Naaku                 Hindi                    Aatha         Nahi  (meaning) Hindi is not my mother tongue.

(Tongue)          (the language)   (Mother)     (No).

There are multiple debates around languages and their enforcement floating around. I have realised, language is not important, but communication is.

The half truth

Please read the previous Moral Fiction here

Name of the Author : Suparna De

Note about author : A silent observer. Avid reader and occasional blogger. Loves to take in the ‘single line’ quotes. Interested in fashion, photography and a bit of cycling.

Read more on her blog here

___________________________

Chapter 3

The tall man in the robes stood in the corner. He looked like a man with more knowledge in his head, and less materialistic about the world.

‘How are some men so simple?’

Tisca smiled at the view as she shifted slowly over the seat. The philosopher boarded into the same compartment and sat in a seat not far away from her.

Tisca was heading home in a train, a not-so-unusual yet worth-sharing incident occurred. To describe Tisca, the protagonist of our story was a young, opinionated yet a person with unquestionable rationale. She also happened to have a knack of observing every minute detail under the sun. She analyzed her observations. She then made evidential inferences out of those observations. Most of these inferences ended up being accurate or in other words, fact or reality. At least, she preferred to think and eventually believe it that way.

To continue the story from where we left, the man dressed in a saffron robe sat right in front of her seat. The man was chanting “Hare Krishna Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna Hare Hare” in his own accent while he (read: pretended to count) counted mantras using the sacred string of prayer- beads.

This situation was one of the most apt cases wherein Tisca was certainly tempted by her innate flair of observing, analyzing and eventually passing her verdict on her chosen subject (if we call it a subject). She could not resist herself from wearing her (observation) glasses on.

Scene 1: A snack vendor passed by the white guy. He asked the vendor “how much?”

The vendor replied, “Dus Rupiah.”

He asked him again.

The vendor unaware about the fact that he was not being comprehended, answered again,” Dus Rupiah”.

This time the white man was irate when a co-passenger came to his rescue and said “Ten Rupees”.

Scene 2: A few moments later a female ticket checker was heard reprimanding someone for travelling without ticket.

And here was our man still chanting and passing a wry smile (Probably, at the TTE’s seemingly disgraceful yelling or at the plight of the person being caught for travelling without ticket).

By this time Tisca decided to take out her observation glasses and give some rest to her eyes. So, she closed her eyes and started contemplating.

Tisca started thinking about the guy in saffron robe. The guy all this while was pretending to meditate when his entire mind was concentrating on the outside world. He did not seem to have the slightest bit of inherent patience let alone tolerance to the poor vendor’s naivety. The guy must have left his own country and a zillion other things to find solace in life at the cost of what not!

She thought to herself that if one can’t find peace or spiritualism at home, he or she won’t find anywhere else.

When Tisca was about to alight she heard a man saying, “Poor guys, they come here in search of real peace.”

Tisca just smiled inside.

__________________________

 

Trepidation – Chapter 5

Please read the previous chapter here

Name of Author : Sadagopan Govindan

Note on Author : A serial procrastinator. Self inspired writer with a cold feet. Avid reader and no-themed blogger.

You can read his blog here

______________________________________________________

Chapter 5

I was tired. I was tired of running again and again. After an arduous effort, I ended up in front of Satan again. The hole on the wall which gave me hope of freedom was merely a game design. Satan and his accomplishes were deriving extreme sadistic pleasure out of my desperate efforts to escape. But now, I am done with running away from my fears. I may be called an idiot but I decided to stay put and fight my fear rather than running away from it. As Shakespeare rightly said, ‘a coward dies a thousand times before his death, but the valiant taste of death but once’.

‘What do you want from me, Satan? Of what value am I to you? You had killed your own daughter but I am still alive. I must be of some use to you.’

‘Ah! Smart Alec. Pun Intended’, guffawed Satan. ‘You are, indeed, a very important coin in my chessboard’

‘And how’s that?’

‘Alec! Alec! My boy! I am still amused that you do not remember anything about who you are or what you are capable of’

‘Can you tell me already? I do not have time for drama. I’m tired.’

‘Have you ever thought about why you torture women?’

‘May be, I’m a psychopath?’

‘Psychopath is the word coined by ordinary humans who do not comprehend paranormal behaviour. They do not understand what goes on in a so-called psychopath’s mind.

You, Alec, are not a psycho. You are one of the finest creature that I have ever seen. You were a natural. I guided you. You were far above everyone in your abilities. You would give hope to people so much so that they will do anything for you.  People came binding under your spell quickly. You would then rip their soul off them slowly. Without knowing what’s happening to them, people used to die smiling. Their body turned grey and eyes blood red. You would then offer the deprived souls to me in reverence. You were so good, Alec! So, so good! I can’t tell you enough how much proud I was’

‘I don’t believe you. You are lying. Why don’t I remember anything then and why am I your prisoner now?’

‘Your biggest flaw was your friend Ramon. He was your weakness.’

‘Ramon?’

‘Yes. Ramon. You grew up together with him. He had no special abilities, or so I thought. He talked you out of your evil acts. He was convincing you that you will be happy when you stop being evil. And you started going against me Alec. I was your godfather. I taught you everything. Yet, you stood up against me for a mere human. You did not understand how valuable your contributions were to me. Each soul that you offered me moved me one step closer to becoming the most powerful evil of all netherworlds. Yet, you disappointed me by taking Ramon’s ill-advice. You let me down. So, I had to do what I had to do.’

‘You killed Ramon!’

‘Not just killed. I relished. He was the purest soul. He was staring at my eyes when I slowly sucked his soul out of his body. His eyes went on from expressing anger to immense fear to pleading to surrender. The most enjoyed prey of mine. ‘

‘You bastard!’

‘You turned up at the place uninvited. You saw me killing your dear friend Ramon. You were shocked to see what had happened. You lost your mind. You wanted to kill yourself, but that’s our curse isn’t it? We can take other people’s lives how many ever we want, but can’t take our own. In frustration, you took a dose of amnesiac and vanished. You thought erasing the memories of all that were taught will keep me away from you and will teach me a lesson. But, I guess, the dose was not enough to wipe your evil memories off completely. Deep inside you are still evil and that is why you are torturing others’

‘How do I know you are telling the truth? If you were as powerful as you say, you would have known where I was long back. Why didn’t you come after me all these years?’

‘Good question. You were harmless Alec. With your memories erased, you were nothing to me. I left you alone as you were neither useful nor threatening. But now, you are the top most threat to my life. My foreteller told me that I will be killed by you.’

‘A foreteller? You consult a foreteller?’

‘Everybody has their fetish, my friend. My foreteller had always helped me stay one step ahead of my enemies.’

‘It’s brilliant. I am supposed to kill you as per your foreteller. Yet you are having conversations here instead of killing me. The logic beats me.’

‘How I wish you have not had that amnesiac! It made you forget the basics. I am not here to have a nice chin-wag with my old student, Alec! I can’t kill you without The Jade Knife. ‘

Satan turned towards the direction of the approaching footsteps.

‘Say your last prayers, Alec’

Catalina was approaching Satan with glowing green Jade Knife in her hand.

__________________________________

Now, I am going to try and end this story. Somehow.

Race against immortality – Chapter 3

Please read the previous chapter here

Name of Author : Amutha R

Note on Author : Living at the moment with no great future plans, obsequious sometimes, learning from life experiences, helpful and always happy to make others happy

_______________________________________________

As AA advanced, checking every passenger, Nirvaan raised his head with his face showing no trace of the fear. He began to look around trying to find an alternative that would gain him some time. Nirvaan noticed that AA takes a second extra at some. He again stopped at French beard person, who this time looked at Nirvaan and signalled him to come stand beside him.

Thanks to government systems for the fact that people working for the government were allowed to take an attendant, albeit the term used was companion. Vidyush made use of this privilege after a long time. Moment AA passed them; Nirvaan looked at him and said “Thanks”.

Vidyush, “It’s been quite a while since I helped somebody”. The world seemed to run on auto pilot these days with hardly anyone having time to connect with their fellow beings.

Nirvaan asked,” How did you know?”

Vidyush replied “You slipped your hands into all your pockets. Then your restless gander at AA, made me guess”.

In the silence that ensued, each was lost in one’s own thoughts.

“I am Vidyush and you are?”

“Nirvaan”

”Where are you going?”

“I’m heading to Vivaio, to a plant nursery called ‘Help me breathe’. I like pampering them” after a pause “so, what do you do?”

Vidyush continued in a low voice, “I’m a warrior”. Nirvaan sighed with a small giggle “that word is two centuries old”.

“And how do you say that?”

“I read literary books from Markland library. I work at Markland for.. (Pause) I can say I sometimes live there and sometimes at schlafsaal”. Markland is the place for war survivors, situated near the city’s war memorial. Vidyush was surprised to see hear his multifarious life exposures; a parallel thought of whether it was a bowl of broccoli or chocolates for Nirvaan, and said, “You can learn a lot at Markland. Next time when you visit, convey my regards to Veran, my old partner”.

As the conversation continued, Vidyush felt the temperature inside the express was quite comfortable, that made him shed his jacket. Nirvaan noticed a sachet fall out on Vidyush’s lap while he took off his jacket. Nirvaan enquired about it, as he was curious. Vidyush offered him few more and said “Entrée’ pills”. Meal replacement pills, meeting minimum calorie, protein and vitamin requirements, were in use among armed forces, which will help boost their energy during attacks or rescue operations.

Though Nirvaan was hungry enough to grab one, he refused. By then a few more passengers had alighted and the duo proceeded to occupy the vacated seats.  Quantum express was fitted with food shoot tubes that shot food to the passenger in a click of a button under the seat. Vidyush arranged for a meal to Nirvaan as he was not sure if the pill would be satisfying. As time flew by their chat was disturbed by a recorded voice.

“Kind attention passengers, the next stop is Terroir”

Vidyush wanted to take Nirvaan along and promised that it would take just half an hour at terroir and they can go to Vivaio together. Terroir was new to Nirvaan. People are busy moving around as it was a weekday morning. Walking on the footpath covered with solar panels as shades, there were too many things to notice; monitors playing advertisements, body spare parts unit, models put for display, flying cars on the road, virtual birds tweeting only around kids to attract them, emergency call points with white cross on red tattooed robots, sounds of footsteps as people stepped on solar panels placed intermittently in the footpath and pure air packets for sale.

After about half a mile Nirvaan’s nostrils caught the whiff of fresh ripe grapes. Vidyush recalled Nirvaan’s interest towards plants and thought he should visit here; vineyard. Nirvaan lit up with energy in seeing the long wide field throwing lively green all over, all tight muscles all over the body which was tied up till now, loosened.  “woooohooho…I love this place”.

“Land, nature, water and human always share a deep bond”

Nirvaan’s happiness yielded more zeal in Vidyush. Vidyush would visit this place only when he feels alone and when work gave him a break. Nirvaan jumped in to the yard, moving fast along the path left for field robots, trying to touch buzzing plant imager above the head, flicked a beautiful ripe grape from collector tray and popped it into his mouth. Machine farming was at lesser intensity as like-minded people gathered on the field.

Fibots known as field robots stopped whenever there was human or object intervention. “Hehey, you caught me”. Hang time, the time the fruits spend on the vine, was over for grapes as it was already late September and Fibots were on the job. Vidyush called out for Nirvaan to stop running and stay on the designated path, though his heart was stopping from stopping him.

Vidyush, “Guess, I should loosen up too” and started running to hug fresh air. Little away from grape multi grade conveyer belt station, Nirvaan hopped from one row of vine to another. Seeing Vidyush closer, Nirvaan giggled with a scream and started running faster making Vidyush the catcher. Vidyush was happy like in his youth.

A sudden flash of a memory from 2060 struck his mind. What made Vidyush recall that memory? Was that when he was this happy?

_____________________________________________

Next author to be nominated soon

Chronicles of Medu Vada – Meaty Broccoli

Because life comes in a full circle. Like Medu Vada.

*****************************************

If you have chronicles in your life that are funnier and worth sharing, please share the write up at indiawritestogether@gmail.com under 1000 words. I will post it in this blog. So, this is like the Sit-down comedy (and I just make that word from Standup comedy) of the blog!

*****************************************

Experiences of Sadagopan Govindan

Please read more on his personal blog here

******************************************

He was from an orthodox brahmin family from South India. [A politically incorrect statement at many levels to start a post with]. He was not too orthodox or religious himself, but he did believe in some of the stuffs that were preached by the veterans in his family. According to the house rules, there were many violations that could attract the maximum punishment in the after-life. The most important of them all was eating non-vegetarian food. One may think this is a trivial issue. It is not. Nobody understood his everyday battles.

The first hurdle was to understand the concept of vegetarianism itself. His knowledge about vegetarianism was like the famous campaign of Zomato. There are two kinds of people – vegetarians and non-vegetarians. Life was simple. Then one day, his friend argues that egg was vegetarian. According to him it is not. Then a third friend joined the argument and announced that they both were wrong. He claimed fish was also vegetarian. This was now a complete chaos. They even graduated but never reached an agreement on what is vegetarian. It took lots of hours of painful arguments, research, and a couple of trips in international flights to understand that non-veg was rather simple, but vegetarian had subsections like lacto-vegetarian, lacto-ovo-vegetarian, Jain vegetarian, kosher, vegan and so on. Since he consumed milk and its by-products he settled himself for a lacto-vegetarian. He is still in argument with some of his friends about mushroom. That story is reserved for later.

He joined a multinational company and was staying with his friends in Bangalore. Let me stop you before you start thinking that his friends tricked him into eating non-veg. Nothing of that sort happened. They were good people. Except snatching his share of Maggi from him, they were harmless. These guys went to a theme park to spend a weekend. It was a fun day and they were soaked in the water like a careless bunch of buffaloes. Too much monkey business in the water made them hungry and they ordered lunch from the cafeteria. It took 20 mins to wait in the queue and order the food. And another 20 mins to get the food. He was famished and forgot all the table manners and started hogging the first dish that was placed. The steaming hot Gobi Manchurian. The moment he started chewing Gobi he realised that something was wrong. Gobi never has a strong stem. And it was extra mushy. It was only after his other friends joined his table did he come to know that they were incorrectly served “chicken 65”. He was horrified. A grave mistake but unintentional. His friends mocked him. He went to the artificial wave pool, took a dip chanting Holy river Ganga’s name and washed his sins away. He took an extra-long bath and changed his sacred thread next day to ensure that all sins were completely negated for.

This incident spread like wildfire at his workplace, thanks to his friends. Everyone was taking the piss at him for few days. He had frequent dinners and lunches with his team later and became quite conscious of what he was eating. He never let his guard down. Until another super-orthodox-tambrahm joined his team. Now this guy made his parents look like liberals. He started following this new guy blindly in team lunches/dinners. Whatever this guy ate would be an ISI certified pure vegetarian. One day, his team went out for lunch. As usual the number of meat lovers were more than vegetarians. They went to a place which is famous for meat food but also served good vegetarian dishes. So, they ordered many soups, starters, and main courses as was the norm. They were busy pulling each other’s’ legs when the food was being served. The new guy inspected a dish and then grabbed few pieces of it and started munching. So, he also confidently took that dish with his eyes closed. He got the same feeling as before. The food was mushy, and he could not identify what it was.He asked the new guy what it was. “Okra Fry”, came the reply. Now, he had tasted Okra fry in 100 restaurants. All of them had different tastes and textures. But this was nothing close to anything like an Okra. So, he enquired the waiter who told them it was a mutton(lamb) dish. He ran towards the washroom to spit the pieces and wash his mouth. He slightly felt better as he had only chewed it but didn’t swallow. The new guy though was devastated. Everybody could hear him throw up in the restroom and it was disgusting. As usual, he took a holy shower to wipe of his sins and was back to normal the next day. The new guy didn’t come to work for 3 days.

These were the two instances when he had tasted meat. But there were many instances where he came close to. During one of his road trips in the US, he and his friends got stranded in the snow storm near Grand Canyon. The car that they had rented was towed away after they rammed into the car in the front of them; inexperienced drivers on the snow. They hitchhiked to a place called Flagstaff and checked into a motel. It was late in the night and they were completely knackered. The regular food joints like McDonalds, Burger King, Chipotle were closed. Only one Chinese restaurant was open, and they decided to order the delivery. He was the only vegetarian of the three, so he went through the menu list very carefully. Unable to find anything vegetarian, he ordered the only dish that was safe – Vegetable Fried Rice. They waited painfully for 90 mins for the order to be delivered. Another 30 minutes and they could have ordered breakfast. Finally, the food was delivered and when he opened the box, he was furious. He saw a shiny white egg sitting in the middle of the rice. He was enraged. He called up the restaurant, not minding the charges that he incurred from the hotel phone and started yelling at them.

‘I ordered a Vegetable Fried rice’

‘Yes, mister’

‘Then may I ask why I see a shiny egg sitting in the middle of my food?’

‘Yes, sir! You ordered the vegetable fried rice’.

‘Exactly! Why is there an egg then?’

‘Because it is vegetable fried rice and not a vegetarian fried rice. You should say ‘no egg’ when you order it’

He had given up hopes. He never felt that stupid in his life before. His large intestine was eating his small intestine and he was getting educated about the difference between Vegetable Fried Rice and Vegetarian fried rice in the wee hours of the night.

‘Can I change my order?’

‘Yes please. What would you like to have?’

‘A Margherita pizza with thin crust base and cheese, with tomato, capsicum and olive toppings cut using a clean knife which was not used to cut any meat; meat includes – egg, fish, livestock, poultry, seaweed, and mushroom; no oil’

‘Yes, Sir! You want a kid’s vegan pizza. Is that correct?’

‘Fuck You!’

Plethora of freedom – Chapter 4

Please read the previous chapter here

Name of the Author : Ashwin Arun

Note on Author: Likes well crafted sentences. Thinks that he might just hate puns although not really sure how he feels about them. Oh! and long live the Oxford comma.

_______________________________________________

Chapter 4

Just another day

Inspector Dijkstra stood in middle of the dank cell that had not more than a day ago, been the residence of former district magistrate Sara A Birdwing. All around him, forensic personnel were scurrying about, methodically investigating every square inch of the cell desperately seeking clues as to what might have caused the flooding. The case was nothing if not bizarre. Any rational person would say that the water should have seeped through the door hinges and cell’s windows to the corridors but oddly enough it appeared to have been contained within the cell, as though by some sort of force field that only gave away when the warden opened the cell door from the outside. Secondly, where had the water even come from? There were no major pipelines in that area of the building. Finally, Sara had been found lying unconscious despite evidence suggesting that she must have been deprived of oxygen long enough to kill any human being. The doctors at the local municipal hospital had diagnosed her condition to be comatose with no evident higher brain activity.

Dijkstra had suspected something odd was going on with Sara ever since he had found her that night at that store with a gun in her hand. She hadn’t stolen anything. Her gun wasn’t even loaded. She just stood there … waiting to be caught. What made her do it? What could make a decorated judge risk everything? Was she being coerced?  Why did she not tell him if that were the case? After all the years the duo had spent side by side making the city a safer place, he’d have thought she could have at least considered asked for his help. Perhaps, somebody else was being threatened and Sara decided to take the fall. Whatever it was, she had never told him.

***********************************

Meanwhile, Ox had found his way back to his laboratory at the foothills of the Redstone Mountains. This was a rather remote area, a long way from any known human settlement which made it an ideal location for Ox to conduct his experiments. He placed the bottle containing Sara the butterfly inside a small glass chamber which appeared to be part of an apparatus containing several solenoid coils, two tiny cathode ray guns pointed at the glass chamber, and surrounded by an array of electronic sensors.

“Alright then! Let’s see” he muttered, “Vital signs are normal. Brain activity seems to be multiplexed and in synchronization with subject’s base EEG. Sensory responses are within acceptable norms. Excellent!”

“Hello Sara”, he looked at her, “How do you feel?”

Sara could see her brother or whatever version of him that her compound eyes would construct. She seemed to be able to hear him as well.

“That’s odd”, she thought “Do butterflies even have ears?” she had never thought about it. “Surely they can’t speak now … or can they?” she had seen too many strange things recently to be certain of anything. So she tried to speak anyway.

“I’m not sure how I feel. How I’m even supposed to feel.” it was an odd sensation. She could hear her voice out loud as if it were spoken but of course, she wasn’t really speaking now … was she?

“I do suppose there isn’t a baseline for how humans in butterfly bodies must feel”, he laughed “It must be strange. But don’t worry, I’ll have you back in your human body soon enough.” Ox said, “The apparatus around you can read and process vocal signals from your neural activity. It then matches the frequency of your human body’s larynx and activates these speakers. This way, as long as you’re in the chamber, we will be able to communicate”

“Uhm … ok”, she said, a little confused but really wasn’t in the mood for an explanation, “So… what now?”

“We wait”, he said calmly, “and hope your friend Dijkstra gets the message. I couldn’t have made it more obvious for him”

“He will. He’s a smart one. Although, are you sure, all of this is wise?”

“Of course I am. I’ve never been sure of anything more in my life”

“Billions of people will be affected. Do you not believe in free will?”

“Sure, I also believe in unicorns and huldufólk.”

“I’m being serious”

“Do you really believe that free will even existed to begin with? Humans have always been slaves to their circumstance. A victim of unstable chemical reactions in their brains. I merely aim to enlighten them of their condition. Once the inevitability sinks in, they will become more productive citizens. Surely you know a thing or two about accepting inevitability from your time in prison. I’m doing them a favor”

“I still think there might be a better way”, she wasn’t convinced but there wasn’t much she could do being a butterfly and all.

“I know you do”, He smiled “Everything is going to be ok”

*********************************

Dijkstra walked up to his window. He could see the hospital across the street.  As he was looking, the red neon signs from the hospital seemed to twist and elongate to form three numeric symbols.

2 1 8

Dijkstra rubbed his eyes in disbelief. It took him a moment to realize that what he was seeing was indeed there and not merely a figment of his imagination. What did that mean though? Was it some kind of message? He felt something moving in his pocket. His magnetic compass was whirling furiously. When he picked it up, it stopped, not facing north as compasses usually do, but 60 degrees south of the hospital. They were relative angular co-ordinates with his office as the point of reference. He didn’t know where they led. He had to find out. He put on his coat, grabbed his hat and just as he was about to leave, turned around to see the hospital once again. The message had disappeared.

“Just another day!” Dijkstra sighed sarcastically as he started his car.

_______________________________________________________

Next author to be nominated soon

Judgement – Chapter 5

Please read the previous chapter here

Name of the author:  Tania Mallik

Note on the author: A Hilsa raised as a Bombay Duck, Tania’s love for reading and writing is matched only by her longing for Hilsa and Bombay Duck. Nothing gives her more joy than watching Tarantino movies, seeing Cersei blow up the sept and consuming abandoned leftover alcohol. And when she’s not selling overpriced corn to hapless dukandars in Indore, she likes to spend her time recommending Mohsin Hamid to friends.

********************************

As the van made its way to Risok Lab, Kwon’s mind wandered back to the day he was visiting Monteplier to meet his brother Rusty and his wife Melissa. It was a similar dark gloomy day.

 

As the car sped down the highway, Kwon was mortified as he scanned the files sent to him about his latest secret mission. The cover page read: “Olev Youzhny” with a picture of a face that he recognised very well. “A Russian agent born in Berlin during the Cold War. His mother Anya used to be a ballerina at the Bolshoi Theatre before meeting his father Sergie – a chemistry student – at a grand ball in Moscow organised by a common friend. Post a brief courtship, the couple married and moved to Berlin. Sergie wanted to pursue his doctoral degree in chemistry at the Max Planc University while Anya started teaching ballet at the local school. Two years later, they had a baby boy whom they named Olev. A deeply religious man, Sergie felt grateful for the blissful life he shared with his wife and son until one evening when he stumbled upon a letter from an anonymous source. A trap was laid by the CIA and it was revealed to Sergie that his beloved wife was in fact a spy who worked for the Soviet Union. Her alliance with Sergei was seemingly planned to enable her to move to Berlin in order to carry out a secret mission. Filled with rage and betrayal, Sergie had a violent confrontation forcing Anya to give up her charade. Anya was captured and executed by the CIA. The same night, the CIA covertly made a flight arrangement for Sergie and his one year old son, Olev to Monteplier to protect them from any danger. A legend was crafted and two new identities were created. Thus began Sergie’s new life – a widower teaching chemistry at the Monteplier University named Eric Thelmes who lived with his baby boy Rusty Thelmes.

 

Four years later, Eric remarried- this time a Korean-American journalist based out of Monteplier. A year later, the couple had a son named Kwon Thelmes. The two boys grew up in the same household. While the elder one was a prodigy with a scientific bent of mind, the younger one was tall, athletic with a knack for solving investigative cases. Rusty went on to pursue a degree in neuroscience while Kwon joined the FBI. Sometime in the final year of bachelors, Rusty was given an opportunity to intern at a renowned pharmaceutical company in Berlin by Boris Mitrokin who headed the organisation’s research division. The work progressed swiftly, and the boy was invited for a conference in Moscow. There, he met a stranger who identified himself as KGB operative. Young Rusty was presented with a concocted version of his past, his real name and information about his mother of whom he knew very little of. The boy was asked if he was interested in using his technical prowess for a greater cause. Disillusioned by the revelation of his lineage, the boy offered his consent. The KGB training started soon after – Olev would travel to Lennigrad once a month wherein he was taught cryptography, trained to evade surveillance and acquainted with ways to retrieve package from concealed locations. After a successful training programme and completion of his neuroscience project, Olev was sent back to the US as a neuroscientist to work for the Monteplier Government. Unlike other “illegals” planted by the KGB, Olev already had an identity in the US as Rusty Thelmes. The mission was to develop a series of mind-altering drugs as a counter attack technique to deal with American spies and prisoners – the most important being a loyalty-test drug”

 

The train of thought was suddenly interrupted as the driver slammed the brakes and the van came to a sudden halt. Kwon realised they had arrived at the destination. He alighted from the van and proceeded at a brisk trot in the direction pointed by the official. The soil was wet as a result of incessant rains. As he reached the end of the twisted slippery walkway, Kwon looked up at what seemed like a balcony standing atop a waterfall. He stood there, momentarily awestruck by the architecture – the design was in such perfect harmony with the natural surroundings that the building could easily go unnoticed to a passer-by. Kwon was escorted down the stairs to the drawing room where a young lady waited for their arrival.

 

Varnia extended her hands, and greeted Kwon with a warm smile “Good Afternoon Officer Thelmes, my name is Varnia , I work here at the Risok laboratory as a teaching assistant. We are so thankful that you agreed to help us”.

 

Kwon shook her hands in hesitation but before he could respond, Varnia cut him short by saying, “Would you like to drink something or rest may be? It’s been a long day for you.” Kwon was tired but he was too anxious to be able to rest. He agreed for a cup of tea and the two sat by the side of the fireplace as Varnia continued the conversation. She praised him for his years of service at the FBI. She also elucidated her work at the Risok Lab- her publications and some mind boggling findings. While the sweet smell of chemicals and the internal apprehension disturbed Kwon, the warmth of the young lady seemed to distract him from his thoughts – not to mention he was impressed with the repertoire of work done by the lady at such a young age.

 

The clock struck 7 pm. Kwon barely realised that they had been chatting for almost two hours. The rains were pouring like torrents. Kwon felt vulnerable for the first time in his life. Finally he put forth the question that he had been wanting to ask for a while now, “I still don’t understand, why am I here? “

 

Varnia forwarded a file across the table. It detailed a few articles on human brain and the behaviour exhibited by humans under different circumstance. Varnia informed that the project involved understanding the human psychology by asking a series of questions and analysing the interviewee’s response to the same. The interviewees included four inmates from Mwalisso 22 each convicted in unique controversial cases. According to Varnia, if there was anyone who knew how to elicit the responses by asking the most apt set of questions, it was Kwon who had spent years at the Mwalisso 22.

 

The next four days, Kwon and Varnia sat through the interviews each day as they questioned, observed and analysed the behaviour of each inmate. Each interview was followed by an hour long discussion between Varnia and Kwon on the morality of the act, the criminal angle, human conscience, cognition etc

As productive as the discussion seemed to be, Kwon simultaneously felt a sense of uneasiness. The stories of the inmates vaguely reminded him of something buried in the recess of his mind but he could not really decipher. Each prisoner was incarcerated for a heinous crime which either involved murder of innocent people, betrayal of family, disobedience of high ranking official, treachery or corporate espionage. He wondered what one should do when a person is faced with circumstance involving moral choice. What is right? What is wrong? Why is the “right” thing the right thing to do? The subjectivity of morality.

His mind once again went back to the encounter with his brother Rusty Thelmes at Monteplier back in 2015 .

In the aftermath of the fateful night , Kwon carried the corpse of his brother who said to have died under mysterious circumstance- most likely from inhaling a toxicant released as a by-product during the synthesis of an API at his laboratory. Melissa wept uncontrollably but what bothered Kwon was the sight of the 8 year old Rusk who was looking on at the corpse of his father without batting an eyelid. The sight was still etched in his mind. There was something deep and mysterious in those eyes.

Kwon wiped his face and noticed the surveillance camera in the room for the first time. It was at an odd position. Was there someone observing him behind the camera?

Little did Kwon Thelmes know that it was he who was in fact the prime subject of the experiment and the inmates he was interviewing were merely the stimulator.

Rusk Thelmes felt a sense of triumph as he observed Kwon from the surveillance room. He was happy with the progress of the experiment.

********************************

Please read the next chapter here