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Showing posts from 2010

Corruption, Terrorism and Injustice- Recap 2010

Every year on the calender has something to say to the coming year, 2009 was lay-off without a PF or employee benefit and cried on the shoulder of 2010, who apparently was outsourced from some of the very cheap outsourcing markets. The result, 2010 was in good mood and had faith, he will succeed. Well, he did, mostly. Now, that 2010 is leaving for the day, he looks back and has no other thing to say, 'OMG, I cannot believe I survived that...' 2010 began optimistically, promising a good deal for India and the world altogether. The nearly depressed and hopeless 2009 parted very sadly with no jobs, no money and no sense but 2010 came with the motto, 'Yes we can.'  Now 2010 was a good lobbyist and he did try to rectify things, for one thing, 2010 did try to do some justice to the prolong judgment of Bhopal Gas tragedy, Babri Masjid Demolition and even the smaller trials of Arushi Murder case as well as Jessica Murder. But then, 2010 also was worried at every stage of

Many a man who falls in love with a dimple make the mistake of marrying the whole girl

If you have been following this blog (in a not so stalking way) you know that I have been very voicing my opinion of how life is not fair for men   and leaking God cables while making this mans world. Since the beginning of time, thats 6 billion years ago in fact, many a men have been fallen into the unsuspecting trap, which can be scientifically dubbed as the The New Marriage bride effect aka Lady Gaga Syndrome aka also known as Cleoptra Syndrome in ancient times and in the brief period of 2001 to 2004 was known as Rakhi Sawant hallucination. The Lady Gaga Syndrome says that, you see the woman all dressed up and looking gorgeous and hot in the marriage in front of all the random strangers and distant relatives who come to your marriage to hog free food. And then, once you are done with your marriage and take her on the honey moon, the first thing that the girl does is, removes the makeup and comes in front of you in true sense. Now I am not saying that the girl without makeup is

Vicky Leaks

"Hey what is this Wikileaks," asked Vicky wiping his leaking nose with a hankerchief.  "I am sure it is not a overgrown baby who still needs diapers," I replied, super busy pounding some terrorist in Dust II (those who are mere mortals, I am talking about Dust II Map in Counter Strike, oh and fyi 78-79 is the score), "Or in this case a handkerchief," I spoke softly, lest he blows his nose on me. "What!" he exclaimed. "What?" I asked. "Is it something related to Wikipedia?" he asked, "I saw the founder of Wikipedia asking for donation..." "I am pretty sure Jimmy Wales has nothing to do with Julian Assange, in-fact I am pretty sure, no one in the whole world would want to do anything with Julian Assange," I quipped pounded a well-place grenade in front of the escaping terrorist. "Infact, Wikipedia has posted a disclaimer on Wikileaks page that they have nothing to do with Wikileaks,'' I rep

Short Story: Terrorist

Republishing this story to pay Homage to 26/11. This was written on the day of trial of Kasab. If you have not read it before, hope you enjoy it, if you have read it before, hope you understand it. Foreword: I am writing a Short Story after a long time, it is based on the backdrop of 26/11 and the events that follow. Hope you like it. H is forehead was completely covered in sweat  as he sat in the court clutching the collar of his cape.  The cold metal of the gun touched his chest inside the cape, sending a spine chilling shiver in his body.   The last three weeks where the most difficult in his life. No, getting the gun was not hard, he got one local, hand made gun illegally and cheap too. But the real task started after getting the gun. Learning to use it was harder than he had thought, his thumb pained of the mark the recoil of the gun had caused. But the pain was nothing. God knows he had to do it, there was no other way. He could see it clearly now.  He was following up

Ayodhya: The tale of a mind.

“If you could kick the person in the pants responsible for most of your trouble, you wouldn't sit for a month.”-Theodore Roosevelt His grand-father was kicked out from Punjab (Pakistan) in India at the age of 10. The orphan than learned to earn his wages in India and finally started his family in the greatest democracy of all time. The happy family had some issues, had to leave their complete property behind and no proper education, getting a permanent wager was difficult. But he did manage to get a job as a waiter in a restaurant and on that salary, managed a family of four. His father was the eldest son and was a businessman. He had opened a small shop of catering in the town. The shop used to cater to all the local functions of all the religions. The Special Biryani made in the shop was the talk of the town for years. All was well, until, until the fated day when the country burned and with it, burned his childhood. He was one year old, but he knew exactly why his grandmoth

Short Story: Me, Myself and The World

The moment I have been waiting for has finally arrived. This is a small step for me, but a giant leap for mankind. Today I have reached for the moon, this one level will give me a exponential leap into the future. After the relentless effort for last 25 years, I have finally completed the greatest machine of all time. A single pull of lever and the most amazing invention of humanity since fire will go online.  I take the last pill for the day. The vitamin and calcium pills I have been talking for last five years have kept me mobile. They are created from extracts from the plant and animals. They do not create access fat in the body and simply give it enough nutrition to keep me running 25 hours a day. My own invention. I have to do it now, if only I had an assistant or a guinea pig to test this machine, but I had found no one to match my IQ of 190. No worries, I will test it myself. Gist of the story: The greatest scientist in the world with the IQ of 190 builds an invention that

The Sword-Smith

'A sword is an extension of ones arm. It is the part of the warriors body. Do not think of the sword as a mere tool, for every tool is weapon if you hold it right,' the aged teacher spoke as he wielded the two swords in his arm, 'Do not think of these two as different, they are different parts of the same thought. The thought that drives the arm into motion is the same thought that drives the two blades in both your arms. They swing together in uniform motion like gears in a well oiled machines, like two brothers in the duel, both fighting back-to-back watching for each other.' 'You were always an excellent tutor,' the man sitting high up on front chair spoke softly, 'But you did not lend me the sword-smith scroll. As the royal holiness, I am entitled to master the scroll.' 'The sword-smith scroll was written many years before the royal blood line began and was passed down from generation to generation with a pact that it cannot be passed on

Wish

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 12 ; the twelfth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton . I wish, I was dead. No-one in the history of human civilization was in such a big mess. I mean no one. On my left is Shankar, the Godfather, the uncrowned ruler of the dirty streets of Mumbai. He fights for greed, for the right to rule. He is holding a desert eagle Mark XIX with a .44 Magnum catridge, fully loaded and safety latch unlocked. On my right is Mahadev, the jewel on the crown of Mumbai Police Encounter Squad. The unquestioned top-brass encounter specialist of the special crimes unit. He fights for law, for the justice and against crime. He is pointing a semi-automatic Smith & Wesson MP 9 with a .45 ACP bullet, the trigger partially depressed and ready to be pressed completely. In Summary: On my left stands a man who can blast off my

Short Story: The memory that leaked!!!!

A tribute to those who got a closure after twenty six years, maybe the closure was not what we all expected but now at-least you don't have to keep waiting. Destiny wanted him to die, he had some other plans. His hands shivered as he flipped the television remote. Every channel was flashing the same news, Indian Judiciary sold, India bends to America, CEO runs off in Government plane. Slowly he closed him eyes and took a deep breath. The morning newspaper he remembered was kept on the rack, he struggled to get up from his rocking chair. He was old now, with his bones given up the strength   His grandson was sleeping peacefully in his bed. He remembered his sleep on the midnight of third Dec 1984. The pressure cooker whistled in the kitchen and his heart skipped a beat, it was nothing, just his daughter-in-law cooking rice. It was like this since last 26 years. The dreaded whistle which robbed him of his childhood.  His heart would jump every time he he

Hidden

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 11 ; the eleventh edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton . He stood there on the grave of his best friend, holding a piece of paper in his hands. The piece was paper was the echo of his friend last words on earth. A single tear rolled on his chin and went for a free fall onto the mud with a splash. Eighteen years ago, location: A walking path in an unknown forest They were teens, 18-19 year old and wore pure white robes and were arguing furiously.   'You know it,' the 18 year old, Dhuri was talking.   'I do not,' his friend, Aju said.   'You do...,' Dhuri said, 'I know guruji took you aside and taught you the way.'   Aju kept mum, the fact that Dhuri knew about his secret scared him. Guruji had warned him of the threats. ‘We are best friends Aju, tell me,'