Thursday, January 24, 2008

Maximum City

Well, its now been more than 6 months since I've been here away from Mumbai. I guess being away from my home town(born and brought up there) for this long has made me all senti and all so I'm writing this.

OK, first of all, the biggest misconception people have about Mumbai is that the life here is very 'fast' and that people don't have time to even talk to each other. Believe me, nothing could be further from the truth. Yes, people are always traveling to and from office and the grocery shop and what not. But the people here are also amongst the nicest you can hope to meet. More than once, I've seen a passerby ask someone for directions and humbled by all the extra useful info given by the stranger. It really warms the soul :)

A Reader's Digest survey conducted two years ago in prominent cities of 35 countries labeled Mumbai as the rudest city of the lot. The public outcry not just in Mumbai, but in some other parts of India was amazing. Newspapers were filled with real life stories of acts of kindness by taxi drivers, policemen, shoeshiners and the public in general. Everyone was in vehement denial of the survey which was later accepted as 'not accurate'. Just goes to show how well-known the kind and friendly behaviour of the average Mumbaikar is :)

Another wrong image people associate with Bombay is that of the underworld. Well, it would have been valid half a decade ago but now, it is pretty redundant. When you say underworld and Bombay, the 1992 bomb blasts come to mind. On 12th March 1993, there were 12 bomb blasts in Mumbai, in crowded places including the share market at fountain. The official death toll was 257 killed and 713 injured. This was the single biggest terrorist attack in any city of India in its 45 years of independence. But since then, Mumbai has been mostly peaceful save for the bomb blasts on the local trains in July, 2006. There is a really good book on the 1992 blasts called Black Friday (also made into a movie) which I've been wanting to read for a while now. Speaking of books about Mumbai which I want to read, there's also Maximum City which is probably the first book I'll devour this summer vacation.

Being a foodie, I must mention the street food in Mumbai. In short it's just lip-smackingly awesome. The South Indian food(masala dosas,idlies and what not), the vada-pavs, the bhel and sev-puris and pav bhaji make your mouth water just imagining them. Hygiene fanatics will find something to complain about with the cleanliness of some of the stalls, but hell, once you've tasted the damn food you won't care a bit :) Calorie-counters beware! There's way too much unhealthy stuff in these things(they don't butter the pav so much as they pav the butter, if you get what I mean) but hey, you have to have it atleast once.

Some of my best experiences with the city were during 26/7. For those in the dark, there was a huge flood in Mumbai on the 26th of July 3 years ago. Torrential rainfall lashed the city for what seemed like forever. The whole city came to a standstill. Both the local railway lines(central,western) were closed. BEST buses were also jammed in traffic. There was chaos everywhere with chest-high water levels being a common sight.

In such trying situations, the way the public came together to help each other was amazing. You only had to turn the T.V. on to any news channel to find out about the dozen different ways in which people were going about helping each other. People were distributing vada-pavs and biscuits to students in stranded school-buses. Hotels everywhere threw open their doors for people stuck in traffic and unable to go anywhere for the night. People gave shelter to complete strangers in their houses. The altruism was truly infectious.

You can't have a blog about Mumbai without a para on its local trains. The good old 'packed like a can of sardines' phrase does not do justice to how crowded the trains can get. Travelling in one during peak hours should seriously be one of the 'tests' in the trials some tribes have for the adolescents before they can attain manhood. It may seem kinda weird (and wrong?) that I'm talking about the extreme crowds in the trains as if it is a great thing while I should be complaining about it. I guess once you travel in them frequently enough(3 years in my case), you end up liking them. Or maybe I'm just too pro-Mumbai :) But seriously, you haven't been in Mumbai if you haven't traveled in them. They truly are the lifelines of the city. Oh, and standing on the footboard of a speeding local is just awesome.

Coming back to the crowd in the trains though, like I said, words will not do justice so here are some pics:



All these pics are taken during peak hours(the first and third ones are probably Churchgate-bound trains from Virar) so generally it is not THAT bad. But this is basically what you're up against :)


There is also a lot of- for want of a better word- culture on these locals. Groups of people who travel by the same route in the same train everyday end up forming small families. They live a small but significant part of their daily life in the trains. Birthdays, anniversaries and other occasions are celebrated(sometimes they even decorate the WHOLE COMPARTMENT) and they end up making really close friends. So much so, that they end up canceling random errands so they always travel in the same train.

Like I said before, being away from Mumbai has truly made me realize how much I miss the place(that is evident from the size of what I've written I guess :P). Even though life here in Kanpur is fun, I'll always miss the place where I spent my childhood. Yeh hai Mumbai meri jaan!

Friday, January 18, 2008

MTH101N

One more article, this one was written solo, I didn't really have the magazine in mind when I wrote this, just came from the heart I guess. Again, no synopsis before the story(you shouldn't see the last page of a novel before reading it you know, it ruins the whole experience!!!).

Anyway, read!

---------------------------------------------------------


60 minutes

Arrrghh......math class. The worst hour of the day. The most devious, torturous exercise a fifth grader can be put through. I hate math class. I hate math. It’s such a boring subject. Who came up with math anyway? We should be taught something cooler in school, something like how awesome cars are. Teacher is writing something on the board. I'm too bored to concentrate, let alone copy it down and understand it. Maybe I'll take a quick nap.....

55 minutes

I look outside the class. I catch a glimpse of some parrots taking flight in the azure tinted sky. I'll be free like them soon. It’s just a matter of time. When I reach home I'll catch something on the TV or play videogames. Videogames rock. They are one of the most awesome things in the world. I can be whatever I want to be. An awesome superhero, a speedy racecar driver, a nefarious gangster, a mysterious prince. I love the thrill of high speed races, of battle with a dozen formidable foes, of quests and dungeons and monsters and princesses. I love the suspension of reality. I love leaving my world behind and entering a world where I am strong and rugged, a world where I make the rules. It makes me feel awesome. Yes that’s what I'll do when I reach home. But the stupid teacher is still droning on.........

50 minutes

A month has passed since my birthday. My birthday party was awesome. All my friends visited, we had a blast. And the best parts were the presents. I got lots of candies and cars. There was also a huge chocolate cake. Chocolate is awesome. Chocolate is the best thing that ever happened to mankind along with sports cars. I also got cars as presents, yippee! I love running around with cars, love the sensation of speed and the air on my face. Maybe I’ll be a racecar driver when I grow up……

45 minutes

But someone also gave me a doll. What kind of a gift is a doll?!! How do girls play with them anyway, it’s so stupid. I mean, they’re just boring stationary plastic figures. But girls just love braiding their hair and dressing them in clothes and managing their love lives and what not. I seriously don’t get it. I even tried playing with the doll I had but how? What was I supposed to do, dance with it?!!

40 minutes

Yesterday, I heard that our president Bush is going to continue the war in Iraq. War is such a futile thing. I don't understand how people are willing to kill each other, their own kind. That sort of stuff is fun only in videogames. No reason seems good enough to justify all the violence and bloodshed and tears and grief. War sucks. But then again I am small. Maybe these are things I'm too young to understand. Maybe it'll all make sense once I'm bigger. But is seems so useless........

35 minutes

Two weeks ago my Mom and Dad had a fight. I hate it when they fight. Mom called Dad names I've never heard before, funny sounding names. But the way she spoke them, they probably meant something mean. Dad picked up a nearby vase a threw it at Mom. He was drunk. I was in my room, a mute spectator to the exposition. I felt like crying. In fact I did cry. I hate admitting it- it's such a sissy thing to do- but I did. I couldn't hold them back. Later they came to my room and consoled me, put their arms around me, told me that they wouldn't do it again. But they always do. 'Why can't you two try not fighting for once?' I told them that night. 'For me?' Mom hugged me tightly at that instant. Dad looked down at the floor in a melancholy silence. But nobody replied. Nobody said yes.......

30 minutes

I look across the classroom. I spot Gina sitting on the first bench, her blonde ponytail resting behind her, listening attentively. Gina is the girl I love to tease most. I love cracking blonde jokes at her, love pulling her ponytail when she isn't looking, love ruining her drawing with paste. And yet she doesn't get angry. In fact whenever I'm around she kind of becomes dumb. Sometimes she mutters something incoherent, then turns away and runs. Also, the girls around her start giggling whenever I pass by her and she looks down and acts shy. Girls can be so weird sometimes.......

25 minutes

My aunt came to visit me last month. I love my aunt. She rocks. She always gets me chocolate, cars and videogames- the three things I love most in the world. She's very religious though, always wearing a pendant shaped like a cross around her neck, always talking about Jesus and the Bible. I don't get the whole deal about religion. Sometimes I feel that our holy books are just theories. I mean if Jesus was real, and the one true savior, Ram wasn't real, right? And what about Mohammed? And Zeus and Athena and Osiris......God! There are so many of them. How could they all co-exist? Maybe they had some sort of all-holy alliance. But then, who was president? I don't know.

20 minutes

Sometimes I don't agree with religion at all. If God created us, who created Him? There has to be a beginning somewhere, right? But some people value religion so highly, They are ready to shed blood for it. In fact, religion is one of the biggest reasons why blood has been shed in the past. He was reminded of the Crusades that they studied about in history class. But he wondered why. Why do people attach so much importance to faith? It doesn't even matter where God is. You should just enjoy your own life. It makes sense not to worry about something you'll never find out about. He remembered a line from a poem he had read in his textbook recently: God’s in His heaven- All’s right with the world!

15 minutes

'Ahhh what have we got here? Idling away in class, are we? Maybe you have something more interesting to think about. Get out and kneel!' Oh shit! Not again. I hate it when I get punished. I have to kneel outside the class for the whole period. My knees hurt like anything. Fortunately, the period's almost over. As I exit the class, Gina looks at me and smiles. What's so funny anyway? Outside the classroom now, I look left and right, searching for ways to pass time. Arrgh! Why does time move so slowly when you want it to fly by? Again, he was reminded of something from his text: There is never enough time, unless you are serving it.

10 minutes

OK, we're almost there. I must find time wasting strategies. Maybe I can count the number of dust particles in the air....one, two, three, four….arrgh this is too boring! Hmmm, maybe I can count the number of chocolate bars jumping over the stream in my head. No! This is so wrong! I shouldn’t be dozing off in class like this and get punished, I should be paying attention. From tomorrow onwards, I’ll be an ideal student. I’ll sit on the first bench and take in everything the teacher says and understand it all. I’ll write everything in my book and get really awesome grades. Ahhhh who am I kidding, next time I’ll just be extra careful not to get caught.

5 minutes

I'll have so much fun at home! The TV and videogames, the chocolate cakes and cookies......

4 minutes

......the toys I got for my birthday, the cars and tracks and puzzles.......

3 minutes

......all my friends in my block, they'll all be there! We'll play together for the whole day.....

2 minutes

......Oh it'll be so much fun! Why can't the stupid bell just ring??!........

1 minute

.......It's almost over! Another unendurable, tormenting, grueling lecture is almost done!!!!!!!!

Bell.

The students start packing their bags, there is a lot of commotion everywhere. The teacher comes out of the class and looks at me. ‘So mister, mathematics is not good enough for you to study, is it? Detention for 3 hours, you will sit and copy down everything I’ve done in class a dozen times.’

NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’



---------------------------------------------------------

When I was writing the other articles, I would sometimes end up writing an immature statement, using words like awesome and stuff. Then I would delete it and be like, 'only a fifth grader can think this way'. So I thought, why not write about a fifth grader.

The story is kinda personal, the chap's opinions on religion, videogames and other things mirror my own. Again, your comments are totally welcome! Let me know what you think!

Chapter #71

Finally started my own blog. Let's see how this goes. Just hope I can update this frequently enough. I'm not really sure what made me start this, I guess I caught the writing bug again after coming to IIT Kanpur, used to write in school a bit (but that was mostly nonsense!)

OK, the article below was written by me along with a dear friend Anish for our college magazine. As of now, its fate is undecided, let's hope our dear editor ends up liking it. I don't like knowing anything about a story before I read it so I won't tell you what it's about. Just read!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter #71

The assassin removed the lock pick from the hole and pushed the door open. He stepped out onto the sprawling rooftop of the building. From here he would get a clear shot of his target. He went to the edge of the roof and found an ideal vantage point. He unpacked his suitcase and assembled his XL088 sniper rifle. Through the high telescopic zoom, he could get a clear shot of the stage some 10,000 yards away. He target would be arriving soon. The only thing left to do now was wait.

"Fuck you woman, are you fucking retarded? Who gets all the money in the house? Who gives you the green so you can go and buy the petty little things you want? ME! Take this! And this!" His father had come home drunk again. He was beating his Mom with his leather belt. The whipping sounds ran through his ears like icy cold shards. He would beat his Mom until her skin became raw white and bled. And then he would come and beat him. He would have been afraid had the whole charade not been so routine.

When his agency got the assignment to kill the Mafia drug lord from a rival gang, it was passed onto their most skilled and dangerous agent-him. He knew it would be one of his most challenging missions yet. Being at the top of the gangster hierarchy, the drug lord was obviously well guarded. But there was a much bigger problem in this case- identity. Nobody knew who he was. Nobody knew who was pulling the strings for the whole cartel. He loved such challenges. He lived for them. He would relish this kill.

Very soon, his mother committed suicide. In her note, she blamed her husband for the atrocities committed upon her and cited them as the reason for her death. Very soon after that, his father went behind bars. He was sent to a foster care home for boys whose parents were involved in crime.

They were taken to a large dark room in the basement by three of the guards. The guards unzipped their trousers. One of them said, "You three kids look thirsty." Another chuckled, "Why don't we give them something to drink then, huh? Enjoy it while you can kids...."

He was standing in front of a ramshackled building with tinted windows. He went round to the inconspicuous back door - he had been here before. The lady at the counter asked,"Ah Herr!Was kann ich fuer Sie tun?"He smiled wickedly and said, "The usual." He opened the door and stepped inside. She was lying there, hands tied to the bedpost, her flaming red hair running wild over her milky skin. He looked into her hazel eyes. The beast inside him was awakening. His carnal desire overpowered him. Her eyes widened as he unclasped his belt. He saw the fear in her eyes, the raw naked terror that surged through her. It turned him on even more. Just as the feel of guns did. He was reminded of the first time he held one is his hand.....

The assassin and three of his friends made a scheme to escape. One of them knew about a secret cache of guns hidden in the old warehouse. They sneaked out of the dining quarters at night and stole some .45 barretas. They would use it to shoot the padlocked exit. They formulated their scheme for escape at night. It would be done tomorrow. They would escape at the break of dawn before the guards checked their rooms. But their plan failed. One of the patrolling guards got whiff of their conversation. They were caught jumping over the perimeter fence in the morning. They ran. Ran as fast as they could to the exit. One of them shot the lock. It didn't budge. It would need more firepower. The guards were chasing them. One of them was almost upon them. The assassin did not want to be caught again. He wanted to escape from the abuse, from the nightmares. He aimed his gun and shot the running guard between the eyes. BAM! Blood was oozing all over his face. The guard crashed to his knees and fell flat on his face. His skull cracked and spinal fluid mixed with the blood which now had drenched his entire body.

And then something arcane happened. The assassin loved it. He loved the sensation of the gun in his hands firing a bullet. He loved the easiness with which he just took his tormentor's life. He loved the feeling of superiority, of domination. He targeted the other guards. By now, they had stopped running towards him. They were just standing still, away from them, telling him to drop the gun and escape without any more casualties. The assassin laughed to himself. How the hunter becomes the hunted. How he pleas when the tables are turned against him. But he would not show any mercy. BAM! The second guard fell, he caught him just above his left eye. Blood splattered on the wall. Bone splinters and brain tissue was now slowly being covered by the fiery red fluid. Now the third was alone. He looked at the assassin. In his eyes, the assassin could see raw, naked fear, the kind of fear one could only experience in the face of death. He could see those eyes begging for another chance. But the assassin already knew what he was going to do. He smiled. BAM!

The first thing he would have to do was to infiltrate the gang. From intel sources, he found out about a high profile gathering which was going to take place at the pier. The mayor was throwing a party to celebrate the economical progress made by the city in the past year. All the big players would be there. But the party was also the venue for a high-profile drug exchange between the Mafia and the Yakuza. His target would be there as well, though he would be invisible to his eyes. Getting an invitation for the the party was easy enough, he just asked for a favour from many of his high-placed friends for whom he had carried out hits before.

He carried out some reconnaissance work on the ship. But it was useless. The ring leaders, let alone the low breeds had no idea who their leader was. They simply called him Shina. All he could decipher was that there was one person who communicated to Shina directly, the capo. He would have to get to the leader through him. He could kidnap him now, and interrogate him about the leader's whereabouts later. But he would have to dispose of him later and that would make the other gangsters suspicious, most of all Shina. It would also be a messy approach, leading to unnecessary collateral damage. There was no reason to get him now. There was a much simpler way. He stealthily placed a transmitter under the bumper of the Capo's car.

With the transmitter in place, he could follow the Capo like a shadow. His plan was to follow his movements for a while, then strike him when he was most vulnerable. He followed the dot on the GPS screen for a couple of days, trying to chalk out his routine. But there was something suspicious about the places he was visiting. Suddenly it all made sense. He understood. He made a couple of phone calls. He had his man.

Though nobody worked with him closely- he could not afford any close contacts- the people who had communicated with him always felt terror at the chill in his voice. They all described him as a cold calculating killing machine, which was probably true. Circumstances had turned him into this. He enjoyed what he did, he liked being the harbinger of death for the high and mighty. It made him feel powerful. He had a habit of calling his kills 'chapters'. He had a book where he wrote down the details of all his hits chapter by chapter. He liked to think of his life as that book. He had a fetish for expanding it- adding one more page, one more chapter.

Shina was the mayor. He was there on the ship, making a speech about the developments made in the commerce sector in the past few months. But he was actually overseeing the whole deal. He could have killed him right there on the ship, he could have poisoned his food. But it didn't matter. He was here. The mayor would be delivering a speech to the public about a new trade reform in Central Square. He was half a block away, and many stories high. Through his lens, he had a view of the whole ceremony. He was waiting. Then the mayor came on stage. The adrenaline started pumping through his veins. This was the feeling he lived for. The same feeling he experienced when he shot the guards. It was like cocaine, only much better. He had to feel it again. He adjusted his scope and got the mayor's temple in his crosshair. He adjusted the stock, steadied his aim and took a deep breath.

Then he pulled the trigger.

In a moment, the mayor slumped to the floor like a rag doll. The stage became red with blood. The people panicked and started running. There was chaos everywhere. The mayor's bodyguards searched around for the killer. But it was futile. The assassin packed his weapon and left the roof without a trace, like a shadow. Another chapter had been written.

When in juvenile prison, he had no visitors. His parents were the only persons he knew. But one day someone had come to see him. An old man,

"Son, all I can say is that I am proud of what you did in the foster home. You stood up for yourself. You acted like a man. You are a born killer. You feel no remorse. You feel no pity. We need people like you. Join me; I'll get you out of here. You'll start a new life, one full of adventures. I have contacts in places the police can't even dream of reaching. So what's it going to be? Yes or no?"

The assassin looked at the old man. In his eyes he could see madness, the same kind of madness he felt with a gun in his hand, the kind of madness that absolute power brings. He smiled.

"Yes", he said.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
OK, if you've come till here after reading the whole thing, thank you! The whole story is mainly inspired from video-games(I play a lot of those), mostly the Hitman series. Some movie references as well, mainly from Sleepers(if you haven't seen that, do!)

I always wanted to write about what goes inside the head of a remorseless killing machine and why he does what he does. Also wanted to experiment with writing in a topsy-turvy timeline. Please drop your valuable comments people!