Here’s How You Can Stop Terrorism

Just imagine a world in which we won’t be forced to be an audience for mindless violence. Without an audience, acts of terror aren’t acts of terror anymore. They are just crimes.

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Yes, you. Sitting on your chair or your bed, reading this. You have the power to rid the world once and for all of terrorism and fear. I’ll tell you how, and it won’t cost you a dime.

Let’s understand the nature of terror first – terrorists thrive because of the fear they instill in people. And people who are afraid will do almost anything to protect themselves. Including resorting to violence themselves. All the rubbish that’s happening around the world with people getting beheaded and burnt alive, is for us to consume. We can’t blame the media for reporting these incidents because it’s their job. But we have the power to choose what information we consume. Just imagine a world in which everyone turns off their TV or changes the channel when a terror attack is being reported. Just imagine a world in which we won’t be forced to be an audience for mindless violence. Without an audience, acts of terror aren’t acts of terror anymore. They are just crimes.

Let’s face it – most of the acts of terror that happen these days are only the benefit of the media, and nothing else. There is no deeper ideology and cause that they are “fighting for.”  Unfortunately, being human has made us curious animals and we want to read about and watch such wanton acts of violence.

Personally, I consider myself a happy man, unafraid of being blown up by a bomb or any such nonsense. I am so because I don’t read or watch things that are meant to instill fear in me. That’s not to say that I’m living under a rock. Don’t compare me to a cat that thinks it’s invisible because it closed its eyes. It’s just that my decisions aren’t based on fear.

So, how can  you stop terrorism? By not being part of the audience. Don’t click on those links, don’t read those news reports, don’t watch those stories on the news.

Sigh. If wishes were horses, the world would be such a beautiful place to live in.

I Interviewed A Coffee Cup, And The Results Are Unbelievable. All Your Friends Clicked This Awesome Headline For A Funny Story. What Happened Next Is Just Too Good!

This post is part of the Furniture Interview series.

Clickbaits. The bane of our existence. Don’t you hate these ridiculous headlines that are solely intended to get people to click through to a page that’s extremely lame? Oh, don’t forget the obligatory bikini photographs to lure you in, while the page has absolutely nothing to do with women or bikinis. In fact, using these techniques to get you to click through to a page like this, which deals with a man interviewing a coffee cup is borderline illegal. I may be banned, if I were serious. If I’m still banned, I’ll be mad.

Hot coffee mug sexy coffee mugAnyhoo, the coffee cup I interviewed today was one I met on Tinder. I loved the curves on it’s smooth, ceramic body and just had to meet it. We met at a nearby coffee shop and I was immediately attracted to it because it got the irony of the situation. We sat there, drinking our coffees (it just swirled its coffee around itself) and talking about this and that, when I decided to push the envelope of danger and take the next step. I grabbed the coffee cup, put the smooth ceramic to my lip and took a long swig of the hot coffee.

“Oh, wow,” said the cup. “That was – that was fantastic! That was my first kiss, by the way,” it added, a bit shyly.

“Really?” I asked, leaning forward, with my best come-hither look. “How was it?”

“Meh,” said the cup.

“Meh?” I asked, taken aback slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Dude,” said the cup. “I’m grateful for the first kiss, but it wasn’t anything like what I expected.”

“What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know. Something else, I guess.” It looked around the cafe, bored. It let out a yawn. That made me angry.

“What’s going on here?” I asked, almost ready to stand up and walk away. “One minute you’re all hot and flustered, and the next, you’re cold as ice.”

“I’m ceramic, baby,” replied the coffee cup. “You need to microwave me to get me hot and sweaty again.”

Well, I walked away. Though the coffee cup was definitely date-able, I didn’t want to keep a microwave oven in my bedroom and die of radiation poisoning if I didn’t die of a heart attack after seeing the power bills.

So, I Interviewed A Chair.

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This is the first in a series of posts in which I interview pieces of furniture. Don’t ask. I don’t know why I do half the things I do. 

It sat there looking at me, staring, unblinking. I didn’t know if I should proceed. When I asked if I could sit, it didn’t respond. It just stared at me. I shrugged, and walked over to it, smiled and was about to sit across the table from it, when it suddenly growled. It was a low, guttural growl. I froze and looked up.

“What?”  I asked.

“You can’t sit there,” said the chair.

“Why not?”

“You are here to interview me. I won’t allow you to sit on my cousin while you do.”

“Oh, this is your – ” I backed away from the chairs and the tables and found a bean bag in the corner. I sat in it and said, ” – cousin? I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right, happens to us all.”

“So, chair. Tell me. What’s new in life? What’s the scoop?” I was eager to get started. I had my notepad out and my recorder was on.

“Not much,” replied the chair. “It’s a boring life.”

“There must be something that’s going great for you!” I implored, determined not to give up. “Come on, help me out.”

“Dude, I sniff butts all day long,” sighed the chair. “In about ten minutes, I know what the person has had for breakfast. It’s not a glamorous life.”

“Do you have any advice for all the young chairs out there, reading this?”

“Yes,” said the chair with a deep sigh, that reminded me of Marvin, the depressed robot from Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. “Yes, I do. Don’t do it. Don’t become a chair. You’ll be lured in with a lot of false promises – easy job, great life, good benefits. All a bunch of lies!”

“But, chair,” I said. “Surely, something must be good. You do have an easy job and a great life – you just sit around all day, helping people sit around all day.”

“Oh yeah?” said the chair. “What about the termites that have burrowed up my ass?”

“Well, that’s an occupational hazard…” I ventured.

“Don’t you dare tell me about occupational hazards!” thundered the chair. The room shook. I felt something warm and wet flowing down my legs. I had wet myself.

“Great!” said the chair, in a resigned tone. “You pee’d your pants. Now, unless someone mops that up, it’s gonna make it’s way over to me and I’ll be just as big a loser as you – wallowing in your urine.”

“Sh-shit, I’m s-s-sorry,” I managed to say. My heart was still racing. “I’m sorry. I’ll mop it up.”

“Forget it,” sighed the chair. It motioned for me to come over. “Come over here, human. Come, sit on me. Let me tell you a secret.”

I stood up slowly. I took a few cautious steps towards the chair.

“Don’t be scared. I’m not going to eat you!” said the chair and laughed. It apparently found it funny.

I walked over to it and sat on it. It leaned in from behind me and whispered in my ear, “I lied. I’m going to eat you now.”

I screamed and lashed out, spring up from the chair. I looked back and saw the chair sitting there, laughing heartily at it’s joke. “Man, you are too easy!” it roared in laughter.

“Very funny,” I said. I was not amused. “I have one last question that our readers are very interested in knowing.”

“Shoot,” said the chair, wiping its snot.

“What’s the social order for you chairs? We humans are very interested to know what’s organizational structure you follow.”

“Sure, we have order,” said the chair. “We have a chairman.”

And it burst out laughing all over again. This time, it didn’t stop. It rolled all over the floor, laughing and snorting in glee. “Chairman!” it kept saying again and again.

I walked out. Chairs are assholes.

Image courtesy: chickencrap.com

Pursuit Predators And Missing Airplanes

I stumbled as I ran blindly in the dark. The night seemed eerily quiet all around me except for the noise I made as I ran. When I stopped for breath, the pounding in my chest and my rapid deep breaths of panic were all I could hear. I couldn’t perceive anything around me. As I ran ahead, all I could think of was to survive. And I needed to get back to my ship. I had to escape this hell.

I seemed to be in some kind of an overgrown jungle. Wet leaves, branches and fronds slapped me all over as I ran through them. I was thankful for my body suit but I was worried about my air filters. Through the foggy visor of my helmet, I peered down at my chest and saw that the air filter was choked with dirt. I brushed it awkwardly with my gloved finger and immediately felt the the cool rush of breathable air circulate inside my suit. I took a deep, satisfying breath and looked back at the dark jungle through which I had just run.

I could only see the dark silhouettes of the forest and the looming shadows of enormous trees, standing tall as a black shadow of ancient giants against the dark night sky. A few smattering of stars here and there twinkled down at me, as if amused at my plight. I leaned against the trunk of a huge tree and took a few more deep breaths, calming my nerves. My legs trembled less and less with each passing second and I could feel my heart rate slowing down. I didn’t hear the faint whizz of the metal spear but felt the dull thud as it embedded itself with a sickening impact into the tree trunk, barely an inch from my hand. I jumped back, and ran. The creature had been following me and hunting me for over three hours now and it was showing no signs of defeat. Each time I thought I had put sufficient distance between us I was proved wrong. It was always near, lurking around the corners, hiding in the shadows and shooting its high velocity metal spears with a makeshift bow.

I cursed this planet as I ran. We should never have stopped here to explore. It was all Kai’s fault. If only she had half a brain. Well, she was dead now, killed by one of those deadly metal spears that had flown out of nowhere and had lodged itself firmly in her throat. I shook my head and forced myself to stop thinking about Kai. I was alone on an alien planet that was intent on killing me. I had to make my way back to the ship. That was my only hope. I dodged the forest left and right, high and low, retraced my steps to throw the creature off my track, and finally found a tree trunk that I could climb. It  was high enough to hide me from being clearly visible. I thanked the darkness and climbed as high as I dared, hugged the branch and lay still, watching the forest floor beneath me. Every rustle of a leaf and every chirp of an insect seemed to reverberate in my ear. My senses were on hyper alert.

On the horizon, I could see faint snatches of light from various points, glowing over the tops of the trees. Far away in the distance, I thought I heard the whine and growl of machinery, but I couldn’t be sure. We were told this was a primitive planet. We were told that life was almost impossible here due to the heavy, toxic atmosphere and the crushing gravitational pull of the nearest star. We were told to explore without fear and that it would be routine. I’d love to see the faces of those Command Center fucks now.

We were scientists. I was a specialist in alternative energy studies and my sole purpose on this trip was to collect geothermal readings from various planets, analyze them and rate them according to the ease of harvesting. In other words, I was a lab rat. Not a fucking soldier. I didn’t know how to survive in these situations. These creatures were terrifying to say the least.

We first encountered the aliens four hours into our exploration. The landing was routine, without any incidents. Kai and I had strayed far from our ship, collecting samples and making small talk when the clearing in which we stood was doused in bright, harsh light that blinded us. The light seemed to emanate from the forest itself. I could see Kai panicking, screaming and I ran to her to calm her down. We heard the guttural sounds that almost seemed to be a type of vocal communication. We looked up to see three figures walking towards us, gesturing and speaking. All I could make out was the unnaturally long limbs and the row of white, jagged teeth on their heads. I felt Kai shuddering suddenly in my arms and when I looked down, I saw the metal spear sticking out of her. I felt her body go limp. The creatures had killed her without warning. Without provocation. I ran.

I felt an insurmountable anger boil inside me as I lay on the tree branch. Anger at myself, at those short-sighted Command Center nuts and anger at these vile, merciless aliens and their makeshift weapons. I wanted to destroy it all.

I stiffened as I heard the rustle of the leaves somewhere to my left. It was different from the usual rustle of the wind. This was unnatural. I lay very still and saw the leaves part and the creature step forward slowly. It seemed to be looking at the floor, trying to discern my footprints. This type of pursuit predators were the scariest – they never tired, they never gave up and they hunted you down from your footprints and the twigs your feet snapped while you ran. The creature held the makeshift weapon in one hand as it slowly moved on two feet looking this way and that, and passed beneath my tree. I could see the top of it’s head as it passed under me. I was tempted to jump down and fight it, but held myself. I didn’t know how many more of them were out there.

I looked around in the general direction of my intended escape. The ship was somewhere off to the right and from my vantage point here, I could faintly see the outline of the ship’s tail. It was close. Closer than I thought! I felt a renewed surge of hope in me. I made sure that the creature had gone before I descended as quietly as I could and started jogging towards the ship. My heart skipped a beat when I heard the loud guttural shout from behind me. I didn’t look back. I ran as fast as I could. I could hear two, three, four, countless creatures behind me, all shouting and crashing after me. Where did so many of them come from?

I felt a searing pain shoot through my arm and when I looked down, I almost fainted in fright. I saw a thin metallic spear stuck in my arm. It had pierced the palm of my hand clean through! I didn’t dare pull it out. The pain was excruciating. I felt loud bangs from behind and I felt the forest explode all around me. One moment there was a lean tree trunk and the next, a loud bang from behind and the tree trunk exploded in splinters that rained over me as I ran headlong into the forest. I prayed and prayed that I was going in the right direction.The noise behind me was deafening.

I ran through the pain in my hand. I could feel the numbness creeping up my arm from the point where the spear had pierced through. I felt faint but forced myself to keep running. Escape! That was the only thing on my mind.

After what seemed like an eternity and almost when I thought of giving up and surrendering to the aliens, I broke through the tree line and almost collided with my ship. I screamed out in ecstasy and agony and clambered around the hulking machine and into the open bay door at the back. I saw the aliens break through the tree line and stop as they saw the ship. Through the closing bay door, I saw them hesitate. They seemed to be awestruck at the sight of the ship. One of the aliens saw the bay door that was closing and caught sight of my face through the rapidly closing slit. The metal spear it fired  pinged harmlessly off the ship and I heard the satisfying bangs and the thuds of the door closing and the bolts driving home. 

I stumbled my way to the cockpit and hit the big red button on the dashboard. Everything would be automated now. The ship would take me home.

I slumped down on to the floor and looked at my hand. I could see the metal spear sticking out from both sides of my palm, firmly lodged. The ship trembled slightly as the fuel heated up and the ignition kicked in. I almost felt sorry for the alien creatures standing outside the ship. They would all be fried to nothingness in about ten seconds. It was a pity. I could have observed them and studied them, had it been under different circumstances. I thought I heard them scream as the ship fired on all cylinders and cooked them to a crisp and lifted off. I breathed a sigh of relief as it picked up speed. In about fifteen seconds, it would automatically open up the wormhole into our world and shoot into it. I could hardly wait to get home and get someone to pull this fucking spear out of my hand.

I stood up gingerly and saw out of the cockpit window at the fascinating landscape of the vast blue planet beneath me. An entire planet that had evolved to breathe the most corrosive gas in the universe – oxygen. I shuddered at the thought.

I saw the brilliant golden glow of the wormhole opening up in front of me. Just as the ship neared it, out of the corner of my eye, I saw some movement out on the horizon. The last thing I saw before being sucked into the wormhole was a huge metal cylinder hurtling through the air at a ferocious speed – almost like an aircraft – crashing into the ship at what seemed like a million miles per hour and the entirety of the fire and the debris being sucked into the wormhole. Drifting in the void of the wormhole, I saw the remains of the object that had collided with my ship. Hundreds and hundreds of those alien creatures floated away in the zero gravity of the wormhole, all dead. It couldn’t have been an aircraft, I thought to myself. This was supposed to be a primitive planet. Someone is going to have a lovely time trying to find this plane, I thought, smiling to myself as I blacked out, and hoped at the back of my mind that my arm and all my thirty-one fingers would be intact.

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Daydreaming

Day DreamingOne of the worst things that could happen to anyone in my position is this: the realization that your daydream will not be a reality. At least not immediately. You’re right up there among the stars, imagining how different your life will be and how you are going to spend the suitcase full of cash you just found on the sidewalk – a car each for yourself and your wife; maybe a new Harley for those exciting road trips on which, taking a car would be lame; a new house, perhaps two; a very strong and comprehensive health insurance plan for the entire family – yours and hers – to ensure that everyone who’s important is taken care of; and some extra leftover money invested in low yield bonds, savings, deposits and other such inane piggy-banks to ensure your financial independence. Of course, you’d first pay off your credit cards and loans and become debt-free.

You and your wife would then quit your respective jobs. You’d move in to one of your new houses, make it a home and give out the other one on rent for a decent family to ensure that you get paid monthly. You consider this income as your primary income which is earmarked for groceries, food and fuel. You then buy yourselves a pair of fancy smartphones that have the very latest features and you use these phones to tweet about how excited you are about what you’re planning to do next.

Once the tweet has been published, you pack your bags and you hit the road to being the longest journey of your life – a long road trip all over the country, on a quest to visit each and every state, drive on every road, experience all that the beautiful country has to offer. You’d spend almost a year on the road and you return to your new house (which is still new because you haven’t lived in it yet) and you spend a few months domesticating yourselves. You do the occasional trip on the Harley to a few places here and there that may have escaped your radar during the year-long road trip.

After about a year of the domestic life, your wife starts getting restless and insists that you do something out of the ordinary. She wants that excitement of living out of her backpack again. She wants to drive into the sunset and sit on the hood of your big SUV, looking out at the setting sun and smoke a cigarette and drink a Diet Coke, while you stand next to her with your beer can in hand, lean over to you just as the last rays turn the sky red and kiss you softly on the lips. She urges you to do something about this urge.

You walk over to the window overlooking the beautifully landscaped garden in front and you think about what to do. You wake up the next day and decide to sell off your other house. You contact your lawyer and find out that the rate of the house has nearly doubled in the two years since you bought it. You make the deal with the first buyer you find and a week later, you’re richer by an insane amount of cold, hard cash, sitting pretty in your bank account. You spend a weekend researching the best way to spend a whole year backpacking in Europe. You make the arrangements, book your tickets and your hotels, and you go out on Sunday evening to the mall and buy brand new backpacks and new travel accessories for yourself and your wife, and come back home in time for dinner. When your wife asks you where you were, you deflect the question innocently and move the conversation over to mundane things like the weather.

The next morning, you ride your Harley over to the bank and realize that you have far more money left over than you initially imagined. You then convert a lot of the money into Euros, a lot of the money into Dollars and a lot of the money into travelers’ checks. You also instruct the bank to issue you a Visa travel card, into which you pre-load a lot of money.

You then go back home and tell your wife that you have something important to show her. She is confused, obviously. But curious. When you reveal your master plan and the preparations you’ve made so far, she is fantastically overjoyed and you get the best sex of your life for being the best husband ever.

You realize that you’re in a public place and you have a hard-on. You quickly clear your mind, pull down the visor of your helmet, start your bike just as the light turns green, and continue the ride to your office.

The Attic In Your Inbox

Have you ever wondered what kind of a person you were ten-fifteen years ago? How you’ve evolved over the years? I’m sure you have. Yesterday was a sort of a blast from the past for me. I managed to access my very first email inbox on Yahoo! Mail – something that I had created way back in 1999. And when I went through some of the mails I’d written and exchanged with old friends (some of whom are no longer in touch) it made me feel stupid, excited and happy. Stupid because of the ridiculous nature of my writing, completely ignoring the basic rules of grammar, spelling, punctuation and propriety.

Yahoo Mail
Part of an email conversation I’d had with a friend, on whom I had a tiny, little crush 🙂

But, on the other hand, I was happy and excited to access my old inbox because it proved to be a veritable attic of forgotten treasures. I found a few old love letters that I’d written to my very first girlfriend. I found old photos of classmates, girlfriends, forgotten friends, forgotten moments and events that have had an impact on who I am today. I spent a lot of time digging through this inbox, trying to remember exactly what the conversations were about, who the people were, what my state of mind was, and there was no satiating my nostalgic indulgence.

I came across an email fight I had with a friend of mine over something that seems so trivial now but was perhaps the straw that broke our friendship back then. I came across old emails where I was making plans with a few close friends to meet up a certain pub for a few beers. Oh, those were weird times. I sent some of these photos to a friend of mine with whom I’m not in touch very much, hoping to rekindle some contact. I told him how weird we were back then. He thanked me for the trip down memory lane and responded by saying, “I think we’re still weird, but we’ve managed to embrace that reality.”

Reunion
Photograph of a class reunion that I found in my Yahoo! Attic

I think we should all stop running for a few seconds and look back on the path we’ve taken to get where we are. It’s just astounding how quickly time flies and we hardly recognize ourselves from back when we were younger. I read these old emails now and I am filled with an immeasurable curiosity to know more about myself – more precisely, to know what people thought of me back then. I look at my old photographs and I can hardly believe that I looked like that, wrote that way, spoke that way, used those phrases, and yet managed to have a normal life and turn out the way I did.

Last night, Mansi and I were at my parents’ house for dinner. One thing led to another and pretty soon my Mum decided that my wife need to see my kiddie photographs. So, out came the huge albums and the report cards from my kindergarten and school days. I looked at my photographs as a kid – the moments when I was with cousins, aunts, forgotten relatives, and I am a bit sad that I don’t remember much of it. These few memories that have been frozen in time are all that remain of my past. I wish I could remember it.

Go check out your very first email inbox and you’ll be thankful for the blast from the past. 🙂

Indian Politics: A Critical Deconstruction

Indian PoliticsOnce upon a time, there was a whore who refused to take a bath. She was the biggest whore in all the world. No other member of her profession could match her for size. She could single-handedly take on a gang of twenty men and still beat them all to pulp with brute strength. She was widely known for her prowess and her surprisingly good heart, and everyone respected her. She wanted nothing more than to whore around and make money, something that she’d been doing for almost six decades now. The one thing no one liked about her was the fact that she didn’t take a bath.

She used to take a bath in the past, some fifty years ago, but now, she just couldn’t get herself to do it. She used to carry on her flesh trade using nothing more than deodorant. When she forgot the deo, her stink would announce her arrival five minutes in advance. Yet, she never had a dearth of customers. Buying her services gave people a sense of false pride, something that was an archaic notion in itself. People would line up to wait for her just to be able to spend a few precious moments with her, so that they could be branded with her stinking sigil. They would use it in their résumés, and their families would be proud of their achievement. The fact that they’d just participated in prostitution was never a problem. People didn’t talk about the ethical, legal and moral quandaries in using the services of a whore. These things were swept under the carpets and the mattresses or locked in cabinets, never to be spoken of.

The whore who never took a bath had a certain reputation that she wasn’t proud of: she had been the cause of more deaths in her country than any disease, calamity or natural disaster. She wielded her heavy hand as a weapon and swatted away anyone who dared to come forward to clean her. She used people’s religious beliefs to get under their skin and convinced them to kill other people with different religious beliefs. In fact, her refusal to clean herself up was so notoriously known that even people in other countries were afraid to do anything lest they become scarred and soiled. The whore went on mercilessly killing innocent people in order to satisfy herself of her uncleanliness. A lot of people tried to clean her and were either soiled or killed off as expendables.

Indian politics is, in one word, dirty.

PS: The whore in question has agreed not to sue me for calling her a whore.