Another Fiction

- 1 -

Sadness, when not shared, often becomes like a rock. Sadness, when shared, the rock slowly melts in the form of teardrops. And when such a teardrop fell on the bench making her cheek wet, it’s the beginning of our story.

“Should I wipe the teardrop off from the table?” Rahul said to himself. Will give any kind of message? Rahul was hesitating as he always does. He was hesitating over whether he should give any kind of message or not.

She continued talking. After a while, at last, Rahul wiped the teardrop from the bench. He actually wanted to wipe her cheek, but he thought at this stage, it would be too outrageous.

“Let’s go outside... in the roof. There is no use of talking these matters in the classroom” said Rahul. Crying in the classroom with all other friends looking at you can never be a good idea. And being alone with the girl you like while she shares saddest part of her life made Rahul little bit proud of himself. First time in life, somebody have thought Rahul important enough to tell him all these. People generally do not think Rahul significant enough to talk or share. This incident was really boosting Rahul’s ego.

There was a corner in the college rooftop beside the water tank. If one sits there, no one can spot him (except for some unlikely people roaming in the bushes in the ground far below.) The corner used to give necessary privacy to the lovebirds of the college. Rahul’s heartbeat was pumping as he sat in such a corner with the girl she likes and the girl sharing deepest secrets of her life. Rahul thought that maybe he is not that much insignificant he thinks himself to be. This boosted Rahul much and finally he gathered all the courage to wipe the teardrop off Shreyasee’s cheek.

Rahman - 5th issue

As I am back at Kolkata, So as Rahman (as promised). This issue was written quite a few days ago. In fact, before I went outside Kolkata.
First Issue: Click Here (This issue combines all prior issues)
Second Issue: Click Here
Third Issue: Click Here
Fourth Issue: Click Here

---

Rahman and Ziah was walking together through a narrow walking path in a not-too-dense forest. Then Ziah asked Rahman, “Tell me your story? How come you get here?... Ok, wait a second. I’m too tired to walk anymore. Let’s sit under this banyan tree and talk”

Rahman told his full story to Ziah. How his father died at his age of six, what hardships his mother faced while bringing him up and how she too succumbed to the hardships of the world and died when he was fifteen. How Sadhan uncle ill-treated him in every possible occasion, and finally he started walking the path. How he met the dying old woman and how he got the coin and how he met the first stop people who told him that he was in a sacred journey.

“So you actually didn’t have any choice. In whatever position you are now, you weren’t any better off at Sadhan’s.”, said Ziah.

Now that’s it. Rahman knew that what Ziah was saying was correct. But getting a certificate on how bad you are from an other person doesn’t always feel good. Yet Rahman kept his mum. It is because of this soft-spoken nature of his character every other person gets successful in pushing him.

Ziah continued, “My case is totally different although. I never had any problem regarding money. My dad runs a big grocery store in the main market where I live. I used to get more money than I actually needed.”

“Then why did you left your home?” asked an astonished Rahman.

“Why wouldn’t I? should I stay at home just to have the crap study and give the crap exam? Life was so boring. So I left home. Failing in the exam worked as a catalyst although.”, Ziah said with curving her lips in a peculiar way.

“So you left home just because you failed in an exam?”

“Oh… not for that damn exam yaar… I told you, it only worked as a catalyst. I left home because there was no charm in my life. Life was so clumsy, so unexciting. Tell me one thing. What’s point in living that way? If you live that way, do things you do not like and do the same things day after day, year after year, you are not actually living. You are just waiting for death.”

“I think you should get back to your parents.”, said Rahman.

“No way. If I get back now they will surely lock me up in a room and make my life more miserable. Plus they will make me married as soon as possible. Dad had already started the talks with the son of the owner of the main market, who is a criminal by profession.”

Ziah paused for a second or two. Then continued, “Don’t worry! I will surely get back to my parents. There is no doubt in that. But first let me find out the charms of life. Let me continue my journey as a sacred walker. We are among the chosen few, remember?”

“Chosen few? You mean there are more that just me and you?”

“Of courses there are. But I am not very sure how many of them are still alive. The path is really dangerous.

“That is why I will again tell you to go back to your parents.”

Ziah got furious at this. She shouted, “I have already decided what to do. I have made it very clear that I am not gonna get back until I finish the sacred path. And by the way, you are no one to advise me. And if you keep nagging me any further I will forget about the alliance and go on my own.”

Rahman did not push her any more on this. Not because he cared for the alliance but because he knew how stubborn the girl is and he didn’t want to let her face the path alone. I must be there with her all the way, Rahman thought.

“what happened after you left home?” asked Rahman.

“that is in itself a history. I will tell you some other day. Everything was fine till my pocket money lasted. but as the money was nearing it’s end, I gradually becoming hard to cope up you know. But you see, you have to face hardship in achieving anything great”, Ziah said as if she had a lot of experience regarding life.

Ziah continued, “One day as I was sitting in a park, I noticed that a coin fell in the grass from the bowl of a blind beggar. I picked them up but as I was going to give that back to the beggar, he was gone. I searched the whole park but he was nowhere. There was something unusual about the coin as you must know. It was the fucking direction coin for God’s sake.

“How did you lost your coin?” asked Rahman. It is because of this Ziah and Rahman was together. Ziah lost her direction coin somehow in the path. On the other hand Rahman lacked information. This made them natural partners in the journey.

“It fell in the river. It was in my hand while I was crossing the river through the bamboo pool. It just fell from my hand and sank in the river.”

“You should not be that much careless” said Rahman.

“See, whatever gone is gone. There is no point in mourning over and over on the same point. Look, I can not carry on without the coin. You too can not carry on because you are a know-nothing-looser and you are by character so dumb. So it makes sense if we carry on together. And for that do not piss me off in such a way that I have to carry on alone.”

Somebody please teach this girl how to talk properly! Thought Rahman.

In a cludy afternoon like this

As I mentioned earlier, there are times when a lot of lines just floats in my mind. But I can not write as I am still searching for the first line to write. So I decided to get started and keep typing. And typing whatever comes to my mind.

It is again raining in Mumbai. And according to some report there was some sort of storm in Mumbai. Within this IIT campus, we hardly have any link to the outside world. And watching TV or reading newspaper is far of reach. What I know is as it is still raining I will still feel lazy to put my clothes in the machine (reasoning that even if I wash, they won't get dry. I am always very good at finding logic behind my laziness.) and I will have to wear the same clothes even tomorrow.

Whatever, when the sky is cloudy like this and the sun cease in giving me clocking information, all my branches and bounds seem at loose. I lay flat in the bed and stare upwards at the ceiling. Although I have to assume the underside of the upper bed as the ceiling. (We sleep in tow storied beds)

Lots of things come and go in my head then. Like what I would be doing if I was at home now. How I would stare at the gooses playing in the pond just behind my home. How I will go to the roof and stare at the topmost twig of the deodar tree and see the little green birds with a stick in the tails circling the tree. Somewhere a cuckoo will sing. I will search the whole tree to find that. This way the clocks will flow, and I wont understand how it became 5 from 3 pm. The sun had ceased clocking me.

Coming down, I would turn on the TV and shuffle through the channels randomly while there is add within Ma's daily soap. Then Ma will shout, "এবার আরম্ভ হয়ে গেছে, ঘোরা"

I'll hand over the remote and come to my room. It is still very dark there, Nobody (me) bothered to turn on the lights. The mosquito net is still hung from the hook and books are scattered randomly in the bed. The PC would be as usual running with no task given to him. I'll say to myself, "ধুস্‌, আজকেও বন্ধ করতে ভুলে গেলাম!". Then I will shut the PC down, clear books from the bed like one clears dust from the table, and dump the books in the table itself. Or in worst case if the table too is full with CDs and copies, I will dump the books in your parent's room with Ma shouting again, "নিয়ে এসেছিস্‌ আবার নিয়ে যাবি। আমি বয়ে নিয়ে যেতে পারব না".

I do not even hear the shouts. I stay awake lying in the in the bed and turn on the computer again (for nothing of course...), log in to gmail and see if anyone is online. Many people are infact, ... online, but I do not feel like talking to them. (I do not always feel like talking). I set myself invisible and start reading my own earlier chats... after a while I go to guruchandali.com and read the (non)sensible gibberish there for a while. I still feel bored. Then I call Abhijit..

"কোথায়?"
----------
"বেরোবি?"
----------
"তা'লে চলে আয়"
----------

And I take your bicycle and go out with Avijit. With no particular reason or cause. Just we keep cycling in the roads and may be have some chats at either KB ghat, or Lelinnagar melar math. Of course we do not chat with each other.

As soon as I come out of my home, it strikes me that I have to call her. I call her and say Hello!
"তুই সাইকেল চালাচ্ছিস?"
"হুঁ"
"তোকে না কতবার বলেছি সাইকেল চালাতে চালাতে কথা বলবি না"
"আরে বাবা কিছু হবে না, আমি পারি।"
"না তুই থাম, আদারওয়াইজ আমি ফোন রাখছি।"
...

Evening falls in my city. Still some light is coming from behind the huge pile of cumulonimbus. And it looks like mountains in the far. After a while Ankur joins both of us. And it starts raining heavily.

We have ran out of shelter. When we are on the verge of being completely drenched in rain, Ankur finds an auto. We all go inside. Some one somewhere shouts back... Who the hell is taking my auto out? We try to explain. But that I idea fails. We take our bicycle and fell. Just then the rain stops.

Time was in abundance then.

নিরন্তর ভাট (আবার)

তখন আমি হাঁটতুম| হেঁটেই পেরিয়ে যেতুম গরিয়াহাটের এমাথা থেকে ওমাথা. আনমনা বিকেলে পেরিয়ে যেতুম খান্না থেকে হাতিবাগান্ হয়ে মিত্রা| কিংবা বেলগাছিয়া থেকে অটো ধরে লেকটাউন, সেখান থেকে হাঁটতে হাঁটতে বাগুইআটি| শেয়ালদা থেকে এম্-জি রোড হয়ে কলেজ ষ্ট্রীট, সেখান থেকে সূর্য সেন স্ট্রীট বেয়ে আবার শেয়লদা|


আজকাল আমি মোটের ওপর ঘরের মধ্যেই থাকি| কোথায় আছি তাই জানিনা!

Why is copying bad?

Before discussing the question we must set a definition on what is copying. Here is what wikipedia says about copying:

Copying is the duplication of information or an artifact based only on an instance of that information or artifact, and not using the process that originally generated it. With analog forms of information, copying is only possible to a limited degree of accuracy, which depends on the quality of the equipment used and the skill of the operator. With digital forms of
information, perfect copying is not only possible, but is, almost by definition, the norm. Copy and paste is frequently used for information a computer user selects and copies to an area he or she wishes.

Here it means that the person who copies does not need to go through the process through which the the item was genarated but yet enjoys the same result. On an ideal world this is no problem. As the creator would not bother for earthly gain out of his creation. And of course would care a damn if somebody else gets unjustified gain out of his hard work. He will rather be busy creating new things. But in this world creator often wants gain out of his creation. And from materialistic point of view, this may be justified too. So the question whether we should let people copy or not boils down to how much ideal we think the world is.

:)

- Joydip Datta (09305014)

Rahman - Why there is no more issues

If you were following Rahman and now wondering why there is no post since a looooooooooooong time, here goes my apology.

There is two more issues written in my computer at home. But when I shifted from Kolkata to Mumbai, I forgot to take those issues with me. Without that part it is difficult to continue...

I promise, as soon as I get back to Kolkata, I will again post Rahman.

Ha ha ha.... I am talking as if there are people who were following Rahman anyway..

Google Translation

Our national anthem as translated from Hindi to Chinese at http://baike.baidu.com/view/668992.htm. This document is then retransleted from Chinese to Hindi again and see the result... There is so much scope of.. improvement:

[ 编辑本段 ] [संपादित करें इस पैरा]

原文 मूल

जन गण मन अधिनायक जय हे जन गण मन अधिनायक जय हे
भारत भाग्य विधाता भारत भाग्य विधाता
पंजाब सिंधु गुजरात मराठा पंजाब सिंधु गुजरात मराठा
द्राविड उत्कल वंग द्राविड उत्कल वंग
विंध्य हिमाचल यमुना गंगा विंध्य हिमाचल यमुना गंगा
उच्छल जलधि तरंग उच्छल जलधि तरंग
तव शुभ नामे जागे तव शुभ नामे जागे
तव शुभ आशिष मागे तव शुभ आशिष मागे
गाहे तव जय गाथा गाहे तव जय गाथा
जन गण मंगल दायक जय हे जन गण मंगल दायक जय हे
भारत भाग्य विधाता भारत भाग्य विधाता
जय हे जय हे जय हे जय हे जय हे जय हे
जय जय जय जय हे जय जय जय जय हे

译文 अनुवाद

印度人的心和命运都由你管辖， दिल से भारतीय और अपने अधिकार क्षेत्र का भाग्य,
你的名字使全国奋发， आपका नाम देश काम कठिन बना देता है,
旁遮普、辛德、吉甲拉特、马拉塔、 पंजाब, सिंध, किर्गिस्तान एक LVL, मराठी,
达罗毗荼、奥利萨、孟加拉； द्रविड, उड़ीसा, बांग्लादेश;
　文底那、喜马拉雅发出回响， उस के अंत में पाठ, हिमालय प्रतिक्रिया दी,
朱木拿、恒河奏乐回答， जमना, गंगा खेल संगीत जवाब
印度洋的波浪唱着歌， हिंद महासागर गाने गा लहरों में,
向你颂赞向你祝福， आशीर्वाद आप की जय हो, आप को,,
一切人都等你拯拔。 सभी लोगों के लिए प्रतीक्षा कर तुम Zheng खींच रहे हैं.
印度人的心和命运都由你管辖， दिल से भारतीय और अपने अधिकार क्षेत्र का भाग्य,
你永远无敌于天下。 तुम अजेय नहीं हो सकता.

Never Passed a Bijoya Like This

Bijoya Dashami is an well known day when our minds stay full with pain. Ma is going back. And we need to get back to our ordinary schedule again from tomorrow. We got to reengage ourselves to the same tension and jostling from where we managed to escape ourselves for the three days.

Where I live, hardly any trace of puja can be found. And wasting 3 days is somewhat out of conception. We managed escape away only on Ashtami... but from the very next day people were eagerly sat in their chairs with their eyes fixed on their monitors.

Time during puja is very painful when you are away from your root. You get the news that all your childhood friends with whom you used to make fun and ramble about just a few months back, have re-gathered and visiting the pujas in your city. All of them are together again and having a lot of fun... and you, alone, so many kilometers away, thinking that how the road beside your home might look like when the freshly bathed girls pass through it with wearing new sarees with water dripping from their hairs... and the para boys stare at them sitting on their bicycles with the neck almost 180 degrees bent. How the electric decoration bulbs change the color of the walls during night, what was the theme of the biggest puja in your locality this year....

You think about these all the day and the more you think, the more you feel sad. And the more you waste time.

c ya

Lazy morning

In Wednesday, classes start from late in the afternoon. In the morning around 9:30 not many people are awake. It seems that the night have extended itself. The shadowy corridors of the hostel seem gloomy. Wet shirts hung in the window forces us to keep the light on.

Staying awake is a tough job. Specially during the day.

Do I write too few blogs?

I boast that Blogging is my hobby. Then when I say I write 2 or three blogs per week on average people laugh at me. This is very humiliating I tell you.

May be I should write more. Here at the campus in the beginning things seem so messed up and I am taking so much time to settle and stop thinking :D

But nevertheless, I should write more... The next issue of Rahman was already been written way back (along with the one last posted) but I acted as a miser and delayed the posting. Now wile I have shifted myself, it seems I have forgotten to bring a copy of that file. This is too bad. I feel very very sad at this. I will do a overhaul search in my dvd collection to see if I have backed it up. Keeping my fingers crossed.

I have also updated my website a bit and hosted the updated version in my IITB home page. So the current address of my home page is:
http://www.cse.iitb.ac.in/~joydip

Meanwhile Yahoo plans to discontinue the geocities service within a few months. So, my older site will be discontinued anyway!

I have so many things to share!

This is gonna be an ultimate random rubbish post. It's like when I say I have so many things to say... I am actually too lazy to say anything. That's why I gathered so much stuffs....

I am too lazy... These days I even find it lazy to get up... I like sleeping on and on with nobody waking you up and definitely not a TTE in 2839 down Chennai Mail in 1 AM.

I had to go to Chennai to give an Interview. The train was at night, in the middle of it at 12 o'clock. See, I am so lazy that I am not going to say more... And I am feeling too sleepy too. And fifty percent of my brain is probably not working... so I should stop.

Hey! I should blog something more sensible... not silly useless travelogue like this.... Still I will try to write a blog sharing my experiences in the Detroit of India. Ok... no commitments in my blog... Whatever I say is that I will try to try.

But no today. I will talk about Chennai Mail, Chennai Central, Chennai Park, Annapurna Hotel, Marina Beach, Golden Beach, Dolphin Park and the Sea Lion Clara, Mahavalipuram, Kanchipuram, Adyar, etc some other day... I am feeling too much dizzy now.

Cream of the crop: 69 of top 100 JEE rankers pick IIT-Bombay

(Pasted from TOI. Original article here)
-----------------------------------------------------------
MUMBAI: The composition of the elite technological club has changed. A decade ago admission to the IIT-Kanpur ensured demi-god treatment. Only
the brightest and the best could get past the gates there.

No longer. Mumbai is the new Kanpur, with Delhi and Chennai snapping at its heels. A look at the students’ choice of institute by the top 100 JEE rankers down the last half-a-decade reveals that preferences have changed dramatically. A number of factors have been responsible for the reordering, from geography to gastronomy and placement records to what coaching classes preach to students.

Of the top 100 JEE-2009 rankers, considered the elite group among engineering aspirants around the country, 69 students preferred to join IIT-Bombay over any other IIT. This was followed by Delhi — where 19 of the top-100 — have been admitted. While Bombay has been bettering its performance over the years, number of toppers going to Delhi has slipped.

"IIT-B's decision to introduce minors in all programmes has seen more students wanting to come to the Powai campus," reasoned the institute's JEE-2009 chairman A Pani. In 2008, the institute ushered in academic reforms and permitted students to pick a minor course along with the core area of specialisation. This, explained Pani, has resulted most streams opening and closing admissions at higher ranks than previous years.

On each IIT campus, the top 100 students are considered as the rich creamy icing. Twenty years ago IIT-Kharagpur was the engineering mecca. The oldest IIT of the country, IIT-Kharagpur did not receive a single student from the top hundred this year; and before that, in 2004, only three of the top 100 went there.

A former JEE chairman explained, "While Bombay and Delhi were still building themselves, Kharagpur's students had already occupied top positions in big companies. Students looked at Kharagpur's illustrious alumni and rushed there. Now this has changed."

The Heat is On

It was never so hot summer in West Bengal. It is mid-May and the temperature averages at 42 degrees. Accompanying it there is LOO. The hot and dry wind of central India has somehow spread its area of influence up to Bengal. The sun is so bright that even the rickshaw pullers had to put hood over their head. The uncle next door suddenly looks like Agent Smith as he puts on a stylish sunglass. The white cotton hat has become so popular that every other person looks like Subhas Chakraborty. If you look at any road at around mid-day, you will see it as empty as curfew. Even if some one can be seen, they look like unconscious people dragging themselves forward. The sun has sucked all energy from them like the Glucon-D ad.

Plus there is election heat. As the election phase coming to an end the faces has already began to change their dialogs. While Rahul Gandhi suddenly declares how sure he is about the event of Left supporting Congress again, Karat also suddenly become soft on Cong. The INC is really in a typical win-win situation in West Bengal. While they have pre-poll seat sharing with Trinamool, it seems the CPM led left-front also eventually support them.

The provision of post poll alliance in Indian constitution is actually a betrayal to the voters. The people who have fought against each other in the election, ends up in supporting each other to be in power. Suppose in my center there are two candidates from party-A and party-B. I have particular hatred towards say B, so I vote for A. But I see after election party-A ends up in supporting B. Isn’t it a betrayal? In most of the case voters even don’t know whom they are voting. What will be their agenda and who will be the prime minister.

While one party is inherently anarchist (Why Pranab Mukherjee can not be the prime minister? The answer should be very clear.) The other party has definitely lost a significant mileage just before the election (Is Barun Gandhi is appointed by his Auntie to sabotage BJP? – Just kidding). Let’s not talk about the third-front. We don’t even know who is in and who is out, what their agenda is, and who they project as Prime Minister. If the regional parties get the power, they will first secure their regional interests. Won’t the national interest of India take a back seat?

Ok… that’s it. No more political talks. I should be perfectly apolitical in my blog, where I talk and in every aspect of my life. So I give every party equal mark. I give every one 100%... keep it up; you are doing a wonderful job.

My Blog is again AD FREE

I removed all the AdSense ads from my blog. Top reason being it was not paying me much. So I decided to get rid of that stuff. Now enjoy a neat and clean blog without ads.

Rahman - 4th Issue

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First Issue: Click Here (Issue 1 combines all prior issues)
Second Issue: Click Here
Third Issue: Click Here

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“Well… not actually. I met an old man in the path. He was a sacred walker too. He told me about the southern hill before dying. Like the hill is covered with grass and bushes and discrete trees. Except that, the hill is almost barren. Some rabbits, porcupines, dears may be found there.”

“What’s the specialty? That’s almost the description of any other hill.”, asked Rahman.

“Wait… Let me complete first. There is absolutely nothing special about the hill in the morning. It is just like any other hills scattered all around. But as soon as the sun goes down everything changes.”

“Changes to what?”, asked Rahman.

“Now if you interrupt me any further, I wont speak another word. Please shut up and listen to me when I am talking”, Ziah got furious at Rahman. She probably had a hobby of getting furious at people, any time, any where and on whatever reason.

“No, no. I am sorry. Please continue”, Rahman apologized although there was no apparent fault of himself. Apologizing had got into Rahman’s blood.

“Yes, everything changes with the sunset. Bushes becomes grand doors, small hillocks become great palaces, rabbits become sentries, porcupines become heavily armed guards and a live city appears out of nowhere. And in the middle of the city there is a big castle. A castle guarded by soldiers of the flip side.”, said Ziah.

“You mean something as bizarre as this actually happens?”

“If you think I am lying, then you are free to believe whatever you like. Haven’t you seen enough bizarre things already?”

It was true. Whatever was happening around Rahman was actually too bizarre to believe. Rahman said, “It’s not that I don’t believe you. But if everything changes with the sunset how come none of the people know about it. If the barren hill changes to a lively city as the sun sets, the southern hill should be a famous place, no? how come none of the people haven’t yet noticed anything?”

“That’s because the change is visible only to the chosen ones. Only the sacred walkers can see the city and the castle. Other people just sees the hill as it is.”, said Ziah.

“Ok, this makes sense. And it almost matches with the riddle in the parchment and what the Bhaisaab just said. But tell me,..."

“what riddle? And what parchment?”

Rahman told her everything about the first stop and the parchment he got inside the bread.

“Wow! You have a handful of resources then.”, Ziah chuckled.


(May be continued...)

Next version of my website

http://geocities.com/joydipdattaonline/beta/

Worst Movies I have seen in my life

Here goes a list of movies that I advice everybody NOT TO SEE. If somewhere the movie is playing run away as fast as you can.

NOTE: The list has been created as the names come in my mind. The movies are not sorted in any way.

RGV ki AAG

I could not bear the torture even for 10 minutes!

Sawariya

The best known sleeping pill!

Mon Amour

This ~2.5 hours of pure torture. On top of that "Du Taakar Churmur!". OMG!!! LOL...

Yuvvraaj

Songs are good except MASTAM MASTAM. But the movie is stupid.

Hello! (adaptation of One Night @ Call Center)

What an awful movie from such and wonderful novel. The director has killed the story... he must be put in jail.

The POSENJIT type Bengali movies

When will Swapan Saha and Haranath Chakraborty understand that copying Hindi and Tamil style in Bengali movies kills the individuality and USP of Bengali Cinema itself.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

So great story board, and what a boring movie! Yes, the end is good. Specially the portion after Benjamin gets married to the end is great. But you need to sustain the preceding boredom to reach there.

Jhoom Barabar Jhoom

No story whatsoever.

Mangal Pandey

They have found mountains in Barrackpore!!!

Darna Zaroori Hain

It would have been a good movie if RGV managed to spare the childrens.

(MORE NAMES TO COME)

Rahman - Issue 3

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Issue 1: Click here (Issue 1 combines all prior issues)
Issue 2: Click Here

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“WHACKK!!! There is something inside. A piece of thick perchment was peeping out from the bitten off corner of the bread. Rahman quickly ate the bread and got the paper out. Some message was written on it.

Rahman read the message on the paper very carefully.

Now… what is that? First a weird coin then some weird people and now these puzzle parchment? What is this? Some kind of weird jewel quest, treasure hunt?

After eating up the bread Rahman started thinking. “Now,” he thought, “the puzzle doesn’t seem to be that tough off hand. Especially the first two lines are rather easy. It just seems to tell to go south. But what does crude man? A crude man? Crude oil? What? And what about the hill, castle etc?... whatever, the puzzle tells to go south… if only I had the power of the coin, I could cross check.”

Unmindfully Rahman tossed the coin again. “Wow!!! This stuff works again… I’ve got a new destination I guess” and guess what… the coin pointed south.

* * *

Then Rahman started his walk again. This time towards south as dictated by the coin. He was not sure whether it was a mirage he was looking for. Yet he didn’t stop. For one simple reason, he had nothing else to do. Everything is better than going back to Sadhan Uncle. Inside the bread along with the paper there was also two five hundred rupee notes. So it was not so hard to survive. But this time Rahman spent the money very carefully. The sacred walker must reach his destination before resources run out.

But there was just void and void towards the south. Only stretches of barren land, some scattered agriculture and very few human localities. He started to get fed up mentally now. What did the puzzle say? In the south, there is crude? Did it mean this crude nature? Barren lands, and heat of June? And then there is a mention of some hill. A southern hill?

Rahman was nearing a locality. A small village with hardly ten or twelve households. Rahman noticed an elderly man walking slowly by the village road. The man was leaning forward and had a stick. Rahman called him, “Bhaisaab!”

The man stalled. Waited for a second or so. Then slowly turned his face towards Rahman. Now Rahman could see his face. Yes, the man was really very old. His face was covered with wrinkles all the way around.

Rahman asked the man, “Bhaisaab, is there any hill to the south?” The man replied in a even slower pace, “May be or may not be. Everything depends on who you are and when you see. Everything is according to the sun.”

Now that is enough. Rahman had already had enough of the strange puzzles and messed up words! It seems no one in this place talks straight. Rahman was thinking all these things when suddenly someone patted Rahman’s back and yelled, “Hey! Did you just said ’hill to the south’?

She was a teenage girl. With medium height, and curly hair. She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Both of the dresses had the sign of a long journey. Her face was also dusty and hairs mingled. But the first thing you would notice on her would be her bright blue eyes.

Rahman was too astonished to speak. He just said ‘Ya!… I mean yes.’… but who are you? How do you know about the hill to the south?

“I am Ziah, a sacred walker”, said the girl after clearing her throat a bit. She spoke the words as if she was announcing that she had just won the Nobel.

“So am I. What’s the big deal?” Rahman was regaining his confidence.

“You too! Well, it doesn’t seem so. Whatever, even if you are, you are not going to find out any thing anyway. You better fuck off.”

“Find out what?”, Rahman said indifferently. He had already seen enough rudeness in life. So these things hardly had any effect on him.

“So you do not even know what you are looking for! Wow… good job done!” the girl broke into giggles. When the laughter phase was over, the girl continued, “I really can not decide why on earth you are going on! I really wonder how you became a sacred walker on the first place. I am sure you don’t even know what a sacred walker is.”

“Sacred walkers are what then?”

The girl was a bit serious now. “Are you sure that you are persuing this path? Being a sacred walker is not an easy job. There are lots of deadly dengers at the southern hill”

“You have already gone to the southern hill?”

(may be continued...)

Standard for Project Success

Happy New Year

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