Titleless short story

The hexagonal wall clock showed the time as 11:30 PM. He was waiting for his friend to return home from a party. Sleep was sitting on top of him; seducing him; forcing him to oblige to the inevitable. But who would open the door for him? So he pushed sleep from his head and tried to lift his brows as much as possible, bent his neck up and down, twisted it clock wise and another twist counter clock wise. Now sleep would not disturb him for some time. With that he opened his laptop and started writing a story. He thought long for a title. Since nothing came to his mind, He simply started typing those words.

"I have never told you about my fears. It changes from time to time. When I was a kid, it was darkness. More than the curiosity to reach out into the darkness and find out what is lurking there, the fear that something mysterious and monstrous might reach out and grab me with its hands or whatever it has, was more profound. Nothing allayed that fear. Have I told you that I even had Nocturnal Enuresis? No. I didn't It’s called bed wetting But it was years back. Now my fears have evolved though.
People thought that School would change me. But it didn't It worsened me. The bullying of the kids, condescending looks of those teachers etc made me hate school like anything.
Have they ever pulled your pants inside the classroom? They did that to me.
The person I fear the most in school is V (Let’s call him that). ‘V’ was the son of the head of school. You know how it is, the pampering they give to him, as if the head of school would shower them with bonuses for pampering his son. He always took the role of a gang leader.
I forgot to tell you something. I was aged 12 that time. I feared the very sight of him.
After growing up a little, the fear of human beings started to subside. But a new fear started growing inside me. That’s Sciaphobia. Have you heard of that? It’s called the fear of shadows."

The clock now read 00:15 AM. He was very much satisfied with what he had typed. Now there was no sign of sleep in his eyes. He opened the door to see if there was any sign of his friend. Not a trace. The cold night was extremely still with a graveyard silence. The steady breeze touched his face and again brought sleep in him. He closed his eyes for a second and suddenly opened when he felt someone move in front of him. He felt someone scurried for cover, with a fear of getting caught. He slowly went back inside and bolted the door. He took out his cell phone and dialed his friend. No answer. To take his mind of this, he continued with his story.

“Initially the shadows were causing all kind of problems at night. Just imagine how horrible it would be to walk home from office in the middle of the night. I don’t have a brother to call upon to accompany me, no parent to wait for my arrival, just a friend who gets drunk and sleeps before I come home. Walking those 1000 meters from the bus stop to my home was like walking on a tight rope without anything to balance. That’s when the phobia intensified.

I always felt that someone was following me. I felt that the monster that tried to grab me all those years back, has come back to finish the job it started.

I ask myself ‘Why will anyone follow you?’ I say to kidnap me or rape me. When did man start raping another man? You’re right. The probability is less but who knows what one is capable of doing when he becomes desperate. So when such thoughts creep into my mind, all those years’ fear comes back to haunt me, torture me.

All I need to do is look back. No one would be there. I can breathe easy. But what if someone was really there? So I never did that. The last thing I needed was to give a face to my monster. So I fasten my steps. That was the moment when I looked at the pace of the shadow running with me. I suddenly halted in the middle of the road and just fell down. I tried getting away from the shadow but it kept following me. Taunting and teasing me. I don’t know where I got the guts. I just closed my eyes and hit hard at the shadow. I just got up and ran as fast as I could without opening my eyes. ”

The story was taking shape. The time was almost 00:45 AM and still no sign of his friend. He tried calling him again. He expected the response. No answer. He immersed himself into the story once more. At that moment, there was a slight knock on the door. It wasn't a banging though. It was caressing knock. It looks like someone was studying the door, waiting to break it. He slowly went to the door and kept his ears on the door. This time there was no trace of that sound. He wanted to open the door to allay his apprehensions. So slowly he opened it, inserted his face into the opening and peeked outside. That same cool breeze touched his face and instantly brought the sensation of sleep. His eyes started to doze off. The eye lids acted like a screen that was ready for “curtains down”.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

He suddenly opened his eyes and saw that it was 1 AM and his phone was ringing. It was his friend. He said he’ll be back in an hour. In the background he could hear a women’s voice. It wasn't rocket science. He understood what was happening. So he continued with the story.

“I felt normal only after reaching home. The confines of my home somehow felt secure. I entered the house and bolted the door .I was still panting. At that moment there was rustling on the door. Since my back was to the door, I moved my body 90 degrees and pressed my ear on the door. That faint sound was still there. I thought, had the monster followed me to my house? I turned my body back to the initial posture and was suddenly startled. Again it was just my shadow.

I pressed my ear at the door again, straining myself to grasp the sounds. I heard something.

Footsteps

Footsteps running for cover. They are trying to hide from me.

But why do they have to hide?

I got the answer in another couple of seconds. Strategically, the ideal time to attack the prey is when it’s not expecting it.

Two hands entered through the door and started strangling me. The hands were hairy and it gave the feel of a butcher’s hand. Although the hand was human-like, the nails were not nails. Am I confusing you? It was claws. Can you imagine a monster with a human hand and claws?

I felt its claws tearing into my neck and counting the nerves. I felt the flowing of blood down my stomach to the groin area. I don’t know why. I didn't make any noise. But when its sharp claws cut one of my nerves, I couldn't resist longer. I just shouted as loud as I could. I never knew that I could shout like that.

Suddenly everything stopped, my nerves were still intact. The monstrous hand was nowhere to be seen. It was all happening in my mind. In that instant, I failed to realize that my pants were wet. ”

It was almost 1:45 AM. His friend should be here any moment. He read everything once and was satisfied with the flow.

Bang. Bang. Bang

Someone was banging the door. All the panic that was hidden inside him came back again. He didn't know whether to go to the door or hide somewhere. He decided to confront the monster this time. He slowly went to the door and kept his ear on the door. The monster put its hands out and grabbed his neck. The pain was excruciating from the beginning. Without thinking, he shouted as hard as he could.

Suddenly 2 people grabbed him from behind and made him sit down. 1 person took out a syringe and filled it with medicine. The needle pierced his skin and the sedative started mixing with the blood.

Dr.Arun threw the syringe in the bin and looked at Selva and enquired “Anything new today?”

“No doctor “said Selva looking at a paper. “It’s the same story.”

“Ok. Let him sleep for some time. Keep a close watch on him”

“I’m sorry. I had to stop the story abruptly. You know I was terrified. On that fateful night I had reached home by 11:30 PM and to keep my mind off my fear I started writing. My friend did come back home drunk and he saved me from that monster.

I slept happily that night without any fear. It was probably the first time in my whole life. But the next day when I wake up, I’m in this place. These doctors say that I’m mentally unstable. They also say that I killed my friend that night. It seems I’m recollecting those events again and again.
You know something, I haven’t told them about the monster.

They don’t know the things this monster can accomplish. But I know. It killed my friend. I’ll find that monster and destroy it.

But I don’t know its face, right? How will I identify it?

Simple

I’ll kill everyone who was responsible for creating this monster.

Please don’t tell them my plans. It’s our little secret.

I still couldn't ’think of a title for the story.”

Politico Religious Haunting - My latest Short Story

The mob moved in on him with ferocious venom. All they wanted to do was set precedence. Their mind had already been preoccupied with thousands of thoughts. But the most popular one was "Teach this b*st*rd a lesson!" He was standing on a rectangular stage, which was atleast 3 feet from the ground. The vantage point was more than enough to spot the deluge of people shouting something and approaching his stage. He had no place to escape. He knew the end was inevitable. The approaching crowd stopped in front of his stage. One angry young man, "Vinayakrao" holding an axe, came on to the stage.

Vinayakrao turned to the crowd and shouted "SILENCE".

Like obedient children, there was stunned silence. "How should this traitorous b*st*rd be killed?"

"Let’s lynch him right here" came an instant reply from the second row.

"Let’s cut him to pieces and serve his meat to all his monsters!" came another retort from somewhere in the fifth or sixth row.

Vinayakrao then gazed in his direction and smiled. The smile gave away the intent.

"Ok! Let’s hang him"

Two comrades of Vinayakrao stepped onto the stage. They lashed at him from behind. The force behind the shot instantly knocked him forward and he fell on his face. They carried him to a corner where the stakes and rope were already in place for his execution. They placed the rope around his neck and tightened the noose.

During all this the crowd was shouting some sort of slogans. Initially he couldn't understand the slogan but once the noose tightened, the slogans increased to a fever pitch. Now he understood everything.

Vinayakrao gave his signal. The entire crowd was shouting "Bharat m..."

Kamal woke with a jolt. There was sweat dripping from his temples. He looked around the room. There was no mob, no stakes and no lynching. This dream seems to be incessant, occurring every night. He looked at his wife sleeping peacefully. He couldn't tell her about this dream. He doesn't want to undergo her interrogation. He thought of the man, who was coordinating his execution. He was surprised that he could still feel that man's anger. There was something familiar about that man's name. He tried to remember it but he couldn't. But the familiarity still nagged him.

He looked at the bedside clock. It was 2:30 AM. He got up from the bed and walked to the refrigerator. He could hear his wife and daughter screaming at him for drinking ice cold water. His throat and especially the tonsils have this remarkable quality to make him suffer. They always make sure that severe cold and high fever attack him. The worst part is the mucus, which turns into an awful green. But that was least of his worries at the moment.

He gulped down the water and sat on the dining chair next to the fridge. Again his thoughts turned to the mystery man from the dreams. "I've to talk to someone about this. Sham...or....hmmmm.... Sid....But will they take this seriously? What about a psychiatrist? He might also mock me. But that's a bit secure".

Life is not heaven for political leaders. It becomes hell when that party has a religious ideology. People on the outside have a different perception about the lives of political leaders. Kamal never bothers about those perceptions. He believes in his religion and the welfare of his people takes precedence over any other thing. Anyone who commits blasphemy, or tries to be sacrilegious, deserves according to him decapitation or castration. His party men have been striving hard to prove that they are a better class of "Fanatics" than him. He loves that term "Fanatic". "This is the age of identity, brothers! Good or bad, every individual wants that" he used to say to his fellow comrades. He does have that identity. Good or bad is another question. That identity was bestowed upon him by the corporate media, who loves such characters. People might also use the word "Fanatic", when they refer to him but deep down in their heart, they do love him because he has got what many lack. An Identity.

Kamal went back to his bed with a relief that a visit to the doctor would solve his problem. This time too, the dreams repeated in the same sequence but with an alternate ending. Instead of hanging, they immolated him.

The next morning he dialed his childhood friend, Karamchand, now a popular psychiatrist. The appointment was booked at 2 PM that same day. Finally if there is one man who'll understand what he's going through, then that's Karamchand.

Karamchand's hospital was located in one of the affluent places in the city. Kamal went inside the building which seemed have its roots in the Indo-Islamic architecture. A pishtaq similar to the one in Taj Mahal welcomed him. Kamal did doubt karamchand's religious allegiance. Kamal was pointed to a seat in the waiting area by the beautiful receptionist. The walls in the waiting area were adorned with the pictures of Mahatma Gandhi, Sigmund Freud, Martin Luther King Jr. and Karl Marx.

After 15 minutes, he was asked by that receptionist to follow her to the hospital's inner sanctum. The building was constructed in such a way that there were 2 separate pathways for entry and exit. This enables the much needed privacy of the patients. A door with a leaf-like nameplate greeted him. The area above the midrib contained the doctor's name and the portion below contained this quote.

"We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark. The real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light."

The door opened to reveal the mid 40 man with a face that Amul would be happy to have in their adverts. "His face hasn't changed at all" thought Kamal.

"Hello My friend. How great to see you. Please sit down"

"Hey Whitey. I'm very good". Whitey was the epithet used by all his friends. Indians have this strange habbit of 

associating fair and white in the same context.

After the pleasantries had been exchanged, kamal explained his problem.

"I'm unable to sleep at night. I'm getting all sorts of dreams"

"What sort of dream?" implored Karamchand.

"I'm... hmmmmm....I end up in a place.......some kind of ground...... its familiar though.... There are people... 

hmmmm... shouting some slogans...... then.... Kill me". He finished the sentence with a kind of stammering that he hadn't felt before.

"Ok. Calm down buddy. How often do you get these Nightmares?"

"Every day for the past 6 months!"

"hmmmm ok. Are you sure it’s just during these last 6 months?"

"Yes"

Karamchand thought for a moment and said "See kamal, these nightmares are believed to be manifestations of our mind. It’s the recollection of events that could have happened some time in your life. You don't have to worry too much about it. We'll start the treatment next week"

"Thank you. But everything was familiar, the place, the crowd and.... hmmmmm... even the executioner." The sweat has again started dripping. "I'm really afraid" he said with a slight tremor in his voice.

"Hey come on. Do not give up. It’s normal in case of almost all human beings. Some accept it and some don't. Your mind is just recollecting something you saw somewhere in your life. It could be real or something you saw in a film.” He paused and said “In the worst case it could be guilt". His face became very serious when he uttered the last sentence.

He continued "Let’s say you did something wrong and the consequence would have been severe to some. You start feeling bad for it and your mind gives the same punishment to you." He paused like a tiger ready to pounce on its prey and laughed aloud "But that's not possible because I know you. I can't imagine you killing someone" and he laughed again.

After that kamal did not comprehend whatever Karamchand said. No one can imagine Kamal killing someone but he knows that’s not true. But how can he admit it?

While walking out of the hospital, he couldn't help but think about the people they had murdered. He usually called it as "Politico religious killings". He tried hard to recollect the name of his executioner. But he couldn't.

He took out his mobile to check the messages and missed calls. There were 2 missed calls from his subordinate. There was a single message from an unknown number. He opened the message and it read:

"We urge you all to celebrate the son of the soil Nathuram 'Vinayakrao' Godse. The man who slayed the Mahatma 'double agent' Gandhi. Today, Jan 30 is the day to celebrate this unsung hero. Jai Hind"

“Stupids. Even in today’s world such morons exist, who doesn't understand the sacrifices of Gandhi” thought Kamal. But something rang in his mind. Something was trying hard to come out of his mind.

Yes.

Yes.

The name is familiar.

Yes. It’s the same name.

He quickly dialed his subordinate.

"I remember a journalist was killed by an unknown group. What's the name of the journalist?" He dare not ask it directly owing to the love and affection of government to put him behind bars. That would be a confession.

After hearing the name, the sweating just increased on his temples.

Changeling

"Why did daddy leave us, Mommy?"

"When you were born, a big box arrived and it contained something called Responsibility. For some people responsibility is the scariest thing in the world!"

I'm not sure if a mother can explain this complicated moment in a better way to her nine year old son. This is a scene from a movie called "Changeling" starring Angelina Jolie and directed by Clint Eastwood. This film was based on real-life events in Los Angeles in 1928, where a young mother (Christine Collins) finds her nine year old son (Walter Collins) missing when she returns home from work. But after 3 months, LAPD finds her missing child and reunites the mother and Child, only to find that the kid is not her son. Then what follows was police power trying to suppress the mother and brands her as "Mentally Unstable". I'll stop the spoilers here. Please do watch this brilliant movie that gave Angelina Jolie an Academy award nomination.

This movie talks about several key issues that were prevalent in 1928. I could relate those issues to even today. This shows how insecure the children are in our society. Be it 1928 or 2012, every kid in our society is at incredible risk. In a society that encourages Nuclear families, a time a child spends alone at home is relatively high compared to our previous generation. On the other hand, we cannot really say that joint families are any better for the security of a child. The physical, emotional and sexual abuse are still predominant in our society. Some might say otherwise too but truth is little hard to digest. When a single working mother, leaves her little kid at home, the risks associated are well-known. The saddest part is that this is not 1928.

The next issue handled beautifully is "Freedom of Speech". People in power never enjoy this. They seem to prefer an authoritarian state of affairs. When Christine Collins persists that the kid rescued by the LAPD is not her kid, the police is ready to believe her. In 1928, the Los Angeles police were ridiculed and criticized severely for their "Take action against cops who don't kill the criminals" approach. So to avoid another media spectacle, the LAPD wants to close everything off the books. Then starts the "She is mentally unstable" story and the manner in which doctors treat the young forlorn mother, shows how insecure every one of us are in front of power. That leaves "Freedom of Speech" in a dark room where freedom gets lost in a corner. This too is an issue that’s happening till today. A blatant use of power was exhibited in Koodangulam Nuclear Plant Protest. Many people who question the authority of powerful bureaucrats often end up losing everything. This particular issue was well captured by an IAS officer P.A.Krishnan in his novel "Tiger Claw Tree" (Puli Naga Kondrai in Tamil).

The next is how such stories unite the masses. This itself is a clear example of how the world perceives authoritarian powers. Almost all the civilizations have fought the oppressing authorities, Whether succeeded in that or not is a separate issue. The story of Christine Collins united the Los Angeles people in protesting against the corrupt and belligerent LAPD. So it really shows that the oppressed will not keep quiet for long. This too is evident today.

The last one is for you to feel when you watch this movie. The last 5 minutes will definitely bring tears to your eyes. You'll feel proud about Christine Collins and her Walter, as though you are the mother feeling proud about your son. I'll definitely stop the spoilers here. Enjoy this amazing movie.

Chennai leads the way for Future

A man with a pudgy face and a clean French beard, wearing a red coloured Royal Challengers Bangalore jersey wouldn’t have expected this kind of reception from the Chennai crowd. He is the owner of UB group and the RCB team. It seems that his products are the popular ones and not he himself. A sporting Chennai crowd sent out jeers when Vijay Mallaya’s face was shown on the mega screen inside Chepauk.

At times it is difficult to understand the Chennai crowd. This was the same crowd which gave Saeed Anwar a standing ovation when he got out after scoring 194. They gave a standing ovation to the Pakistan team after they won a closely fought test match in 1999. Murali Karthik once said during a match that “You’ll never hear them booing any player”. That testimony still stands firm. I haven’t heard any jeers for any player. The most culpable candidates too weren’t given any hostile reception.

Yesterday when the team sheet was read by the announcer, I wondered what would be the reaction for the opponent team players. Much had been fabricated by the media about the emotional draining caused by the world cup success. If it was true, then India’s bowling architect Zaheer Khan should’ve been given an arousing welcome, but that wasn’t the case. His’ was a much subdued one than what Saha received. Some of the cricket purists would argue that the reception is more to do with popularity and not anything else. This could be true but Bravo getting cheers more than Zaheer and Virat Kohli is showing few signs of what is to come in future.

Many columnists concurred with the TRP ratings that over dosage of cricket is the one to be blamed for the nadir that IPL has seen this year. I beg to differ there. An appraisal of the TRP ratings would give us a better view of why the ratings came down. That is a region wise ratings would give us a fair idea of what went wrong and where it went wrong. For example no one would have followed Knight Riders until the Bengal elections got completed and also some would have boycotted IPL because of “NO DADA” factor. They would have realized after some time “Hey Hang on a minute! KKR is playing better without dada”. Chennai on the other hand would not have missed the games played by CSK. So taking all those factors into account would lead us to a conclusion that TRP ratings would get better as your team does well.

Another counter view could be “Why did the first few years have very good ratings?” It was simply because of the excitement and more importantly the curiosity the IPL had created. The common cricket fan was unheard of player auction. They would’ve thought humans will not be auctioned, but no one considers these players as Homo sapiens anymore. The rest of crap that followed the auction, partly implicit and another part explicit by “sugar free Candy” Lalit Modi. So that accounts for the high ratings for the first 2 seasons. But from the moment Lalit’s endeavours became the cynosure, the on-field ratings began to drop.

I feel this is the normal behavior. You’ll see more such acts in the future. Fans will be giving more importance to the match played by their teams and also to some other good matches. But will IPL and BCCI be happy with that revenue alone? No way!

Also, I too have to accept the over dose of cricket. But over dosage is something the fans will come to terms in the coming years. And BCCI will also understand it and will fine tune its commitments.

I feel that the emotional drains, over dosage are important things for the rich and corporate class. But for an ordinary cricket it never is. For an auto driver in Triplicane, an electrician in Arumbakkam, a mechanic in Royapuram, there is no emotional drain. That too because of a tournament success. These are people who will never enjoy a tournament success year in year out solely because the national team plays only bilateral series more often. If there is one thing that can vindicate these players’ exorbitant salaries, that is giving something that’ll generate happiness on the faces of the above said people.

All football fans know how a weekend match can shape up their entire next week. The happiness it generates is unmatchable. Chennai has showed the way for the future. It is up to others to follow or still blabber like Arnab Goswami “How can KKR be important to Gambhir than India”.

I have decided to follow the Chennai crowd. Mallya Booooooooooooooooo……

Do we want to be Nero's Guests?

Last month, I watched a documentary on Vidarbha farmers suicide. It was certainly not for the faint hearted. It did not contain any "Raktha Sarithra"-esque bloody and gory violence but it gives repeated slaps on both sides of our faces.

Farmers committing suicide is not an unusual thing in India. It happens in every state but predominantly in Maharashtra, UP and Andhra Pradesh. This happens due to a variety of reasons. Corporates and Governments are the most illustrious names among that variety. Now I'm not planning to dwell into those farmer issues like Rahul Gandhi is doing recently. My concern is how the majority of us view those issues.

During the BT-Brinjal issue, SWAT (an NGO that I'm part of) had organised an awareness programme on the ill-effects of BT-Brinjal. After the programme, we have to split into groups and campaign against BT. The additional nuisance was to paint your face with a brinjal. Sensing my reluctance to do it, Vivek Muralidharan pulled me and made me do it that day. My experience while campaigning in Anna Tower resulted in some conclusions.

1. No one below the age group of 30 know anything about BT Brinjal or GM foods.

2. I'm part of that same set of people.

All the newspapers ran stories about these GM foods but the participation television media was quite poor until Jairam Ramesh burst into the scene. So now we come to the important part, most of the people under 30 would have known the GM issues if our TV channels had given some sort of importance to it. This could only mean that we're idiots because we relied on some money-hungrey Rajdeep's, Barkha's and Arnab's for Knowledge Transfer. We all agree that our media is irresponsible especially the crap 4 (NDTV,IBN,HT,Times) but our reliance on those people for Justice and other things is very scary. Its not that Rajdeep or Pranoy doesn't know the issues of farmers, Jharia Coal mines' Child labours or the other issues. They know it better than any one. But restraint in reporting it is irritating. They're maintaining their habbit of reporting such news only when Rahul Gandhi comes out to support the farmers or YSR's son fasts for the farmers.

A short description on the title of the article
Nero, a roman emperor invited many to a party in his garden. To entertain his guests, he burnt all the prisoners in his garden. That burning created a illumination in the night and his guests thoroughly enjoyed it. They thought it was a spectacle.


We're the guests of Nero. You,me, Rahul, Pranoy, Barkha, Arnab. We're silently enjoying the spectacle Rahul Gandhi is creating in UP, the coverage our media gave to him, his publicity stunt in getting arrested. We're enjoying everything. Its not just Rahul alone, it includes everyone.

Do we really want to act like Nero's Guests?

Street Play

"நாட்டுக்கொரு செய்தி சொல்ல நாகரிக கோமாளி வந்தேனுங்க
ஆட்டம் ஆடி பாட்டு பாடி அழகாக கதை சொல்ல வந்தேனுங்க"

Does it ring anything? Yes it was a Street play song from the movie "Anbe Sivam" starring Kamal Haasan. He used Street play to criticize the “vyabara kandams” (Business Magnets). Theatre artist Mr.Pralayan had written the lyrics and choreographed the song. After that I’ve seen street plays performed on stage in my college day functions. But those were extremely insipid. The next time I encountered a Street play, all I had to say was “Brilliant”. It took place in General Cariappa School, Saligramam, Chennai. It was the Republic Day celebrations.

Last year, from SWAT, we had distributed free footwear to the kids in that school. So as a follow-up activity, we wanted to stress on the importance of wearing footwear. We approached a Theatre artist group “Mactrics”. Its Head Mr. Victor was very happy to perform for a noble cause. We initially planned it in November-December, but due to rain and examinations for those kids, it had to be postponed to January. Things which evaded us in 2010 fell into place in 2011 and the date for the play was fixed. It was the day when India became a republic and boasted a constitution of her own.

We wanted a doctor to talk about the medical impact of not wearing footwear. I first approached my aunt who is a doctor and requested her to give a speech about the importance of wearing footwear. But my aunt got held up with her personal work. So we had to find a doctor. The function was just 48 hours away. I and Harish had a long telephonic conversation about which doctor we could approach. But at the end of the conversation, Harish took the full responsibility of finding a doctor. Harish too repeated the same to Victor. But finally it was he who invited his friend Dr.Swatik for the event. I have to concede here that, what started as a last minute setup became a blockbuster among the kids and students. It was not the eloquence or rhetoric that made him the cynosure, but it was his simple and direct approach in delivering the speech. He gave a good introduction about the streetplay and importantly about the importance of wearing footwear.

Now came the moment I was eagerly waiting for. Abhishek from Mactrics marched through the eager kids, who were waiting to comprehend whatever that is going to unfold in front of them. With a percussion instrument (couldn’t recall the name of the instrument even after googling) in his hand and beating it harder with his hand, he took the centre stage. And thus the Street play began.

After that all I remember was laughing, clapping and enjoying. They had given a play which was direct and simple. Moreover the kids were able to relate to everything and that was the most important thing in a street play. After the street play Harish gave a very short speech stressing on the importance of wearing footwear. We then presented a memento to Mr.Victor and the doctor.

After congratulating everyone there, I started my activa to the marriage hall for my relative’s marriage. Later while going to bed I recalled everything that had happened. I couldn’t remember how we got the guts to go into this footwear exercise. I and Harish were very naïve during the entire process. But the learning we got was priceless. The conversation that I had with Gajan and Harish before this Street play also crossed my mind. We didn’t want SWAT to be a cliché. We wanted it to empower people and I felt this street play was a step in that direction. I hope we can achieve that. Anyways hope isn’t a bad thing and with that I got lost into a sleeping limbo. Sweet Hoping Dreams.

SIFAR - Problems Beyond Infinity

I remember the days when we all used to mock the "Math Club" of our college because of a very minimal turnout for the symposium of that club two years back. The Symposium is named as "SIFAR" with a tagline "Beyond Infinity". I'm not a math club member but two of my closest friends are the chairman and Vice chairman of that club. So somehow i knew things that were happening there.

Some of you might be aware of the problems the organisers of any event face. Just multiply it several times. These people had it for sifar. Starting from sponsors, dead ends in college, lack of commitment from some, life threatening accidents, server failures etc on one hand and on the other hand a ambitious Chairman who is desperate to change something, trying to achieve the impossibles and improbables. It was quite an oxymoron. I'm not sure whether yesterday's turnout would have made him
happy but according to me it is a success.

I along with few of my friends went there to assist(?) everyone.In my opinion SIFAR'10 was neatly executed. That does not mean great execution. I would rate it between above average and below the good mark. That is because of the quality of the work. It is natural to expect better things from a group of people who are "genius" in mathematics. At the same time it is not right to blame anyone. The most difficult set of people to manage are these "genii". The pathetic part is for these people something called selfishness starts to creep in whatever they do and that itself is
enough to act as an hindrance in team work. This sifar would've been better if their teamwork had been better. Whatever may be the case, Success cannot be taken away and that too just for the incredible problems the organizers faced for the past fortnight.

Personally, I had contrasting emotions yesterday. The first one was a happy one after the turnout for the symposium crossed the 300 mark. The next one was also a nice one after seeing a beautiful first year girl in a neatly dressed light color chudidhar. Then came the sad moment of the day. I don't want go into any specific detail but it wouldn't be wise of me if i don't criticise certain people. Any one studying in Velammal, Jeppiar Colleges, Vel tech, RMK etc will be aware of a term called "SPY" - a group of non-teaching staff employed by the management to maintain
discipline(?) in their college. Two such stupid spies where responsible for certain things that happened yesterday. One dialogue from a English movie came to my mind regarding Hitler.

Man 1: We all know Hitler is bad, but why are all these Nazi too bad?
Man 2: That is because they want to prove to Hitler that they are a better Nazi than Hitler.

I think these spies are also like that. People who were with me yesterday would only understand this. I have to apologize to many people. If i had answered a particular question then certain things could've been avoided. Last emotion was the happiest of all. Math club Chairman Gautam made a speech which could've been ridiculous to many and stupid to some. But I could feel the losses he has endured during this period. Other than that his speech was a real entertainment to any one who knew him. Then came the superb moment when the Staff Coordinator presented him a gift. I think
all the Math club members applauded for it and I was sitting in a corner next to a semi awake karthikeyan(he was sleeping until that moment), enjoying that beautiful moment and I'm sure that picture will be etched in my memory for longer days in my life. The Shortest boy is gonna achieve some tall things and this should be a good platform for the next ascent.