HKW STORY

Diabetes mellitus (pronounced /ˌdaɪ.əˈbiːtiːz/ or /ˌdaɪ.əˈbiːtɨs/; /mɨˈlaɪtəs/ or /ˈmɛlɨtəs/)—often simply referred to as diabetes—is a condition in which a person has a high blood sugar (glucose) level as a result of the body either not producing enough insulin, or because body cells do not properly respond to the insulin that is produced. Insulin is a hormone produced in the pancreas which enables body cells to absorb glucose, to turn into energy. If the body cells do not absorb the glucose, the glucose accumulates in the blood (hyperglycemia), leading to various potential medical complications.

The family is worried and nobody knows what to do next. I feel bad to be such a burden to everyone. I’ve heard that just before your death, you see flashbacks of your life. I have been lucky enough to be see my end coming, I now reminiscent about my life; not just momentarily. And i don't have any regrets.

They think I don’t hear them but in reality I can hear them talking to each other in the other room as if I were present there, and they talk about me. On occasions they have some conversations about the movie they saw, the weather, the stock market, Politics, the incompetence of the government, but I know as well as them that in the back of their mind they are merely waiting for the bad news.

I open my eyes but that is all I can do, my body fails me now. I had been just admitted to the ICU again.

“It’s just a matter of ‘when’, and not ‘if’. In such times all we can do is pray. We have been doing what we can, but there is nothing much we can do anymore, we’re losing him”

“We can always keep trying; we want him to go on his own terms.”

“Well it’s the choice of the family and this is hard for me to say but you must know there is no chance of him coming back. It’s too late; the damage to the brain is too severe. If by any chance he does regain consciousness, only 10% his brain will function. I know it’s a hard decision but you and your family must think about letting him go.”

“Ok doctor.” I have always admired the strength my son displays. Being the eldest, he never had the attention he deserves.

I hate hospitals, and I am sure majority of the population do. But there are always those fortunate enough to go home, there are some who get their life back and there those like me who gets stuck in between; not always by choice. The doctors keep mentioning about how I seem to have lost the will to fight, they would too if they had gone through what I have the past 3years; bedridden, unable to walk, unable to sit up, unable to talk, dependent on people for everything, I have had enough.

The family agreed that pulling the plug was something they could never do and the topic was never to be brought up. This is the first time I have seen the family together in 13yrs, I would have preferred a merrier occasion. They agreed that God knew best and was the only one that could do anything, and everything be entrusted in his hands. The only thing they asked for was to give the family the strength; they however, will not stop with my treatment. My father was a strong Christian, and I am thankful my wife shares the same believe as him.

After a week, the doctors could see improvements. They were amazed at the sudden change of situation. My health was improving and the seizures had almost gone, although not completely, but it had reduced from 3 to 4 times a day to about 1 in 2 days. The medicines were doing their part and I was responding to the treatment. The fact remained however, I would never walk again, but after the sudden change of the situation everyone started to believe anything could happen.

“Well this is quite unexpected, and these kinds of thing do not happen very often. God must really love him.” The doctor said to my son.

“I believe so. When do you suppose we can go home? We’ve been in the hospital for 90days now.”

“Let’s see and keep him in ICU for few more days and we shall decide what to do next. If the improvements are any indication, you should be able to go home in few days. He will need a lot of Physiotherapy afterwards.”

After a week, the family decided that everyone had had enough of the hospital, and it was about time. I haven’t had a seizure in 5 days, and I was responding to them calling out my name, I could even move my fingers, everyone was elated. With the doctor’s approval, we were going home.

I built my house with my own bare hands. It is a small squat house; it took me over a year to build it with the help of my sons and friends; and over a year’s savings. The family has been through some hard times along with some good times, all in this house. This house has been through some hard times too, the locality we lived in is prone to floods and hail storms. Numerous storms and floods have come and gone, countless new houses and buildings have sprouted but my house still stands as proud as it did, when I built it. They say home is where your heart is, this is my home. When God asks me what my greatest achievement is, I will tell Him it is the home I built. I am prouder of my family than any accolade I have received. When I breathed my last, this was where I want to be.

I looked around the room and saw the familiar things, but everything seemed new. All my children were present, and some well wishers and neighbors had come to welcome me home. It is amazing what love can achieve, and what a little faith can achieve. The celebration went on for awhile but some neighbors stayed back to keep company.

The wall clock struck 11; someone had been taking care of my favorite wooden wall clock. It was late and I was tired. “I normally never stay up this late, but today is special!” I thought to myself as I drift off to sleep. I could faintly hear their voices planning a coming home party.

“Tomorrow?”
“Yeah why not, it’s the 26th, it’s a general holiday… “

"le.. dooo.... then... .."

In the peaceful night of 25th Jan 2040, our beloved Kahoryao, at the age of 60, finally succumbed to his sickness to be with his heavenly father. Always the stubborn and lazy person, he ‘postponed’ his death until he was able to accept his fate. Even on this fateful day he would have wanted us not to mourn the lost but to celebrate his life, and be thankful for all the blessings.

So let us remember him as that happy, cheerful, loving person whose heart was made of Gold.

For being a man, a not too obedient son, a lovely colleague, wonderful father, great uncle, and a good friend… we thank you and will always miss you... REST IN PEACE....
















.

Story- Payal

Dear Diary,
It was the same old Sunday morning, yet I felt different. With the cackling of the chickens at the butcher shop right opposite to my house I could tell its exact 6 in the morning. Indeed it had become a familiar sound by now except today. Everything was exactly the way I had left it 3 weeks back. A cluttered table, filled with stacks of papers, files, markers and an ash tray full of smoke buds. Same bed sheet I had last slept on, with clothes scattered on the other bed. The room smelt weird; a smell I had been running away from for weeks. A beer bottle with two glasses next to it, one was mine and the other was Stella’s.
Stella. Another client of mine tired of her husband’s brutality. She wanted to file for a divorce but he obviously wouldn’t let her, not because he had a little bit of love left for her somewhere but only because it was embarrassing for him to be dumped. I really fail to understand this mentality. I always thought that it was just women who were afraid of any kind of social stigma but I realised that men were on the same boat. It’s rather funny, because even they are ready to live a life full of grief only because it is against their manhood to be dumped my some silly, wretched, puny, little woman. I have worked with so many organisations that worked for the welfare of the women, but it seems now, that I should instead open organisations focusing on men, in order to inject some sense into them. Stella started to laugh at this idea.
Me: Why are you laughing, I know it seems funny but it’s something I cannot help but wonder about. Besides it not a bad idea to open organisations for such “scared” men.
Stella: Hahahaha! And who do you think will join? You are really being optimistic here Payal.
Me: Well! Believe me, when I opened the first women’s organisation 10 years back, my friends asked me the same question- “Who do you think will join?” And look at it now, many organisations have been started and not just by me, and they are all overflowing with needy women.
Stella: Hahaha. Okay, Okay. No point arguing with you. You know you are a master in the art of argument.
Me: Hahahhaha. Yes, but hey! Don’t be sarcastic, because that is exactly what will help us tomorrow at the court.
Stella: Hmmm..That is true. I hope we win the case and I can be free all over again. I want to start my parlour again. Oh! How I am waiting to earn for myself and then go out shopping with my own money. I will never have to ask anyone or keep an account of anything. I will not be scared anymore. I will be able to live again.
Me: Of course you will. Besides we have all the papers.
Stella: Yes...this is my only chance for freedom.
Thhaaaaaashh.....the window broke into pieces.
Me: Stella, bend down! Careful! (A current went up from my stomach to my heart. It started to ache a little. I was scared, but I couldn’t let Stella notice that).
Stella: I am fine, I am fine. You okay?
Me: Yeah...what the fuck was that?
Stella: Somebody threw a stone it seems.
Me: What the fuck!?! Seems like this person is influenced a lot by all the B-grade Hindi films. Ha!
I bent over the window to peep out. I saw somebody hiding behind the bushes and just as his eyes fell upon mine he ran.
Stella: Could you see him? Do you know who that was?
Me: Nope, I couldn’t recognise the person.
Stella: Wait a minute..the stone is covered with a paper. Looks like a message for us.
Me: Not for us, for me. It’s my house, remember? So you please stop sweating in your pants. Look at you! Go grab another drink while I check this out. Also get me one; I think I’ll need it.
Stella: Okay...wait, don’t start reading it. Let me come first.
Here you go.
Me: “Payal Keswani died last evening....
Stella: Oh my god, it’s a threat note! You must call the police. I won’t be surprised if it’s that bastard Manav!
Me: Relax...relax..
“Payal Keswani died last evening, while giving out her usual motivating speeches to the Mahila Mandal Society. She had always wished to live till 100 but sadly, she died at the age of 87 only.”
Me: Hahahahahhaha...this is so funny. Tell me Stella, did I ever mention in any of my speeches that I wished to live up to 100? Hahhaha...this person is good.
Stella: Shut up! And please continue reading...what else does it say?
Me: Okay!
“...Always a feminist, with the domineering personality and strong leadership skills, she would say that it is God who has sent her to earth to guide the women of this planet to a much happier life.”
Me: I think I will take this as a compliment ..What do you say?
Stella: What rubbish! Why is it so funny for you? It’s a threat note. I hope u realise that. Give it to me. I’ll read...
“...She had contributed a lot to many organisations that focused on the welfare of women. She asked of her fellow women not to even bother getting married to these insensitive ‘creatures’. Her motto remained: we do not need these ‘creatures’ to satisfy or complete us in any respect.”
Me: Hahhaa..I never ever called men “creatures”. But you know what? It does sound like quite an apt term for them!

Stella: “...Doctors say that she had the most persuasive way of delivering speeches, eventually resulting in her bursting a nerve.
This was of much to the dismay of her fans who had only one thing to say: God must be a MAN, to do this to her.”

Me: Hahhahhaha..I love the punch line!
Stella: What the hell does this mean!?!
Me: It’s my obituary silly, what else? I wish I could throw a stone back with a message saying – “Very creative!”
Stella: Your obituary...doesn’t that mean your life is in danger?
Me: Or it could be just a mockery of me. You can’t take this seriously. It’s too funny to be taken seriously you know. In my line of work, obviously there will be many people unhappy. This person just seems one of the frustrated lots.
Stella: Okay..do you want me to stay here tonight?
Me: (I knew she needed some rest herself. We had worked quite a lot, for days at an end)
Oh no..please! I am not scared. Relax! You know me. These things keep happening. You go home and catch up on some sleep and get ready for a victorious day tomorrow.
Stella: Ohh! I am already dreaming about it. Hahaha. Take care then Payal. I will meet you directly at the court at sharp 8 am.
Me: Sure! Take care. Drive safely. See ya!
Stella: See ya!
I closed all my windows, finished my drink in one gulp and fell into bed. I wrapped myself with the sheets and made it cosier for myself. I was wondering again about the obituary and what kind of person could have written such a thing. It’s quite a new trend I told myself. It seems the good old days of a threat note has been replaced by obituaries. It’s nothing serious, I am sure. It’s a silly joke, I kept telling myself that and slowly my eyelids started feeling heavy. Suddenly, the broken window started making creaky sounds. I got up, looked around here and there. There was nothing, nobody.
I thought I am taking this obituary way too seriously myself and so tried sleeping again. But I couldn’t shut my eyes.
I stood awake the whole night till the chickens started cackling again. I got up to make coffee to help my head that was throbbing because of the lack of sleep, just when the phone rang.
Me: Hello?
Person on the other end of the line: Hello? Umm is this Miss Payal?
Me: Yes please.
Person on the other end of the line: Payal, this is Geetha here.
Me: Oh hey. How are you? Stella and I had to come to you to file the papers. Hope you haven’t called to re-schedule.
Geetha: I have some bad news Payal, Stella was murdered last night in her apartment. Her neighbours heard her scream and then called the police, but I guess it was too....
I couldn’t hear her words anymore. Flashes of last night kept coming in front of me. She was so close, so close....to freedom... I whispered to myself, with tears rolling down.
Suddenly I remembered that obituary. It was my obituary. It was my obituary, then why her? I had to leave this place, I had to run away.

Back now, a smell of old papers and cigarettes hugged the room. Everything was the same except for the cackling of the chickens. PACA, Protection against Cruelty to Animals, an organisation I had once worked for, had summoned enough support from the neighbours to finally close the butcher shop down.
I opened a window and some fresh air burst in. I stood there for what felt like the longest time, staring into the street, seeing nothing.
“Hi, are you Payal?,” a voice at the back startled me.
I turned around to see an attractive young woman in her 30s.
Me: Yes. And you are...?
The person at the door: I am Manjari.
Me: Hi Manjari...
Manjari: Umm..Payal.. I have heard a lot about the work that you do. I need help.
An uncomfortable feeling started rising up in my chest, yet kept my face calm, as I had been trained to.
Me: What help do you need Manjari?
Manjari: Payal.. my relationship with my husband..well..he..I ..I need a divorce..I need your help.
I searched for words but none would come out.
After searching my face for a long time, she spoke.
Manjari: I read about the lady you were helping Payal in the newspapers....Stella. I understand. But then you see in life there are no guarantees... I want to take this chance. I want your help. You see... this is my only chance for freedom.

My surprised eyes met hers.
“...This is my only chance for freedom”...those were Stella’s words.
I felt as if Stella was there, beside me. I stayed there for a while, not wanting to break that spell; I had so much to say to her.
And then I heard myself saying: Please sit down. Would you care for some tea?

the button - hari

It is with great grief that we have to announce that Hari Shankar, passed away a week back. He always said and we all expected that the liver would give up before the lungs, but he died a hero in the attack on our city last week. It truly is a sad day in the history of troubleshooting.
He was a good son, brother, husband, father, friend, and a terrible cook.

“…So basically, i had maintained a file with all his pictures. Like a really really thick file you know.” Medha said, as she desperately tried to explain how big the book was, motioning her hands in the air. The light evening breeze found its way through her wavy black hair, but it never seemed to annoy her. It was always dreamy around her. The café seemed like a photograph daubed in sepia, soft around the edges, as she sat there chatting ever so animatedly to Kanika


”Really?? How thick? How thick?? Show again!”


”... yeah, so i still have it you know. Its like one of my most precious things.” She always ignored my sarcasm. At times she wouldn’t realize it, and she’d continue. But when she’d sense it, she’d rather ignore it.


”That is So awesome. Almost unbelievable! A whole big, thick file? With his pictures.. Wow!” Its surprinsing how good I had gotten at imitating her tone. And that always pinched her.


”Listen stop it haan...” She poked me on my side. I almost jumped. Yeah, I’m ticklish. She obviously knows.

“So i still have it..” She continued, as she glanced at me, then shifted her gaze back to Kanika. Slow motion.

Born on the 5th of December 1986, he was a puny kid who liked to draw and read. But his first computer killed both with a vengeance. He was an average student and an above average geek, but a pleasant one he was.

“But where? How come you've never shown it to me?”

”Back home Kanoo. It must be somewhere. I maintained it for the longest time.”

”Awwww.. how sweet..” I don’t think I ever got tired of poking her, even if I’d get poked back for an entire lifetime. Conversations can get kinda inane, specially when you’re not in it. And then came the poke, like a sniper makes a hit.

“i wanna see! i wanna see!” Kanika’s always the shrill one. Wonder why bollywood gossip makes women toggle into hyper modes.

”You'l love it! I had every possible news cutout about his forthcoming films. Almost every picture of him ever printed! Yaadein and all I had 3-4 pages about it before it was gonna get released!”

”Accha, but why didnt he get his finger removed? i was so concerned.. so many sleepless nights you know..” I slipped that in, figuring how drawn into the conversation she was.

”Yaaaa.. because, you know, it was like.... Shutup yaa. Not funny..” And He Scores! She didn’t see that coming. But well, that didn’t even invite the ritualistic poke. She just went on.

”You know, i even had a big piece on how he learned how to drive also. !”

”Aaaaawww.. So cute!” Kanika chimed in. I felt ever shrinking, non-present. Bah humbug!

After all these years of cigarette and alcohol abuse, and much contemplation about which one would hit first, he has left the building. Finally.

“Did he get some quota for that extra finger of his?” I desperately pulled that outta my seemingly dwindling and ineffective wit. And I reckon it hit them both. My boredom was duly acknowledged.

”Shutup smartass. Go get our coffees no? Pleaaase!” And I was sent off on a mission.

”Yeaaahh.. Pity I'd miss out on this incredibly interesting conversation. Save some for me.. “ Nothing like the last word.

I walked up to the counter, where our coffees were waiting. As I picked up the tray, there was a loud electric screech, and the next instant, the sound of a huge explosion that shook the entire building. The coffee cups spilled out on the tray. I dropped it and ran towards Medha. She stood there, visibly shaken by the tremors.

I was in Gujarat when the massive quakes left the places in shambles, back in 2001. Seeing and surviving that, I think, had made me a little too used to nasty surprises. This wasn’t half as powerful as that. I held her close.

“Its okay love, everything’s gonna be okay. It was’nt a major quake”

An earthquake seemed like the logical explanation, till that instant. But then I remembered, how the tremor had followed the explosion and not vice versa. Was it a bomb? Of such intensity? Something didn’t really feel right.

She seemed better now. Kanika seemed alright too. I didn’t feel too right about the sequence of events. These gut feelings amplify the urgency. I guess adrenaline kicks in as the catalyst, making you think of the worst case scenario. So, what the hell, lets make an adventure out of it, it’d be a shame to let all that adrenaline go to waste. But I didn’t really want the girls to panic. So I told them we should leave, leave the business district and get to a place with smaller buildings. As we stepped into the car, another tremor hit. But this time, it seemed like an impact of sorts. No explosion, really. And then, another. By now, I could see the fear and confusion creeping into the girls faces.

The ‘thuds’ were more consistent now. Driving out of the basement lot, I saw a big cloud of smoke rising from the north. It made sense to go towards the highway through the south side. But what was this? What was happening? Turning on the radio didn’t help much; it was a lotta noise with a few grainy words thrown in. If this was some attack, it’d been thought through well. Even the cellphone networks seemed jammed. Communication breakdown only adds to mass panic, and hence, noise prevails. Then Kanika’s phone rang. It was Sushant.

“Are you okay? Where are you? Your phone…..”

She hung up a minute later, asking us to stop the car and drop her off there. The building next to Sushant’s office had collapsed and he was stuck in his office building. She and Sushant had been together for some time now. Obviously she wanted to go and get him outta there. Obiviously we couldn’t let her do that on her own. Obviously, we were bound to go back into the heart of the city that seemed to be under some strange, inexplicable attack. Obviously.

So we turned back, and I drove towards the city. The plume of smoke rose high now. Thick, black, it rose into the sky. So was the chaos. The route we’d just taken towards the highway was clogged now. The road to the city was all empty. And then a roadblock. Cops had set a no-entry into the city. This had to be serious. We took a alternative route, but we coulnt get too far into the city. Abandoned cars blocked the roads, people were out on the streets, escaping on foot. A few said it was a terrorist strike. Some said it was a giant robot or monster. Some said that Pakistan had airdropped tanks and artillery. Some said it was a series of earthquakes. We felt occasional tremors and thuds, and sounds of buildings collapsing. More explosions. We got to Sushant’s office building. Atleast two buildings had collapsed. It was right out of some disaster movie. I couldn’t really get myself to panic. I needed to know what was going on. For me, it was a strange, invisible force that was going around, wrecking this city. I wanted to get Medha out of this mess, that’s all. The poor thing clasped my hand, and I could feel her shiver every now and then. Kanika scurried around, trying to call Sushant on his phone, asking people about his building’s evacuation. Networks were all down. And well, I figured, wires might just be the answer. We found a payphone, and the wires delivered. Wqe got through his office line, and half an hour later, we got to speak to him. The exits were blocked with debris, so I decided I’d try find a way in and try get him out. Heroic as it seemed, 5 years in the construction business added to the confidence. So I left for the building, leaving the girls in a corner shop, which seemed like a safe place. I went to the rear of the building, climbed over the debris. I cleared the emergency exit, and the door swung free. Wonder why no-one did that all this while. A whole bunch of panic-stricken people waiting behind it, rushed out, their sense of freedom and relief evident from their weary faces. Sushant was up on the second floor. I made my way up the fire escape. The tremors started again. They seemed to grow in intensity now. I made haste, thinking about Medha who was waiting in that shop, and ran up to the 3^rd floor. Sushant was waiting by the elevators like I’d told him to. The tremors were closer now. Sounds of a building crashing down echoed across the stairway we were running down through. We ran out the emergency exit, and almost as a perfect moment, we saw it. It was huge, atleast a 100 storeys high, as wide as four lanes of a highway. Godzilla seemed easier right now.

We made our way around the block, but I’d hit the panic button. It was moving towards the block I’d left Medha in. I sprint across the road, as it swung a colossal hand across the building she was in. It caved in, almost instantaneously. I kept wishing Medha had made her way out. But I ran to the shop anyway. It stood about 40 feet from me. But I had to find her first. Then I saw her running down the block, away from the thing. It was picking up people off the street now, flinging them across the city. I screamed out her name, but she didn’t hear me. I ran after her. I saw it come down towards the people running with her. I ran as fast as my legs could. Almost like breathing took a second priority. I reach her, as I saw the shadow of its claws drawing closer, like a massive thundercloud on a tree. I push her out of the way, but that compromised me I guess. I saw her look at me, I saw someone pull her to her feet and drag her away. It grew darker. The cloud descended, I felt a millisecond’s worth of thunder.

Exchanged. (Final Story- Aniruddh)

“I've been here before, Alice.”

“Yes you have. This used to be your room. Do you remember?”

“How long has it been anyway? Fucking long, right?”

“Six years, baby. Its been six long years.”

“Fuck. And I can still smell my deodorant in here. Or maybe its just my head. My head as we all know, the funny things it does since the accident.”

“Lets not think about it.”

“Thats easy for you to say. You're not the one responsible.”

“Neither were you. And you think I don't fucking understand how much you had to go through? Who doesn't understand anything is you, Martin. You have no fucking idea how much I..”

“..Yeah yeah now start your little sob story about how you had to go through shit and you couldn't do shit 'coz you were too involved in protecting me, apparently.”

“I don't wanna fight again, Martin. Lets go from here.”

“No. You go. I am staying. At least for sometime. There is too much I have to ask this room. There is so much I still remember, oddly. What a time that was. We enjoyed so much. And suddenly I was held responsible for his death. I was responsible actually. I was. Fully.”

***

Saturday:

Another day.

Another morning. Fuck. Its all the same EVERY SINGLE day. If only this room was a little bigger and less GREEN.

Now in another 5mins he will come stand here, showing me his yellow teeth, smelling like dead rats. As if the stench of this room isn't enough! He will come, start cleaning his teeth,and tongue, and will show me the dirtiest sight of my life; the foam in his mouth. That dirty white thing makes me want to throw up.

Its better to look at this closed door. I keep wishing for time to stop here.

“How you doing, Martin?”

“Pretty fucked up, man. They have told me to go live elsewhere for now. I am looking for a new place, but its too hard to find in the middle of the year, you know.”

“Yeah man. I totally feel your pain. Why did you choose to live with this one anyway?”

“Like I knew the shit was gonna go down like this, man. You have absolutely no idea what I witness everyday.”

“..I'm listening..”

“Dude he like scribbles in his notebook most of the day man, I don't know what, but the intensity with which he writes, fuck! It creeps me out, man.”

“Have you tried reading it?”

“Obviously-fucking-not, Johnny. I'm as it is finding it tough to deal with the visual of it.”

“Move out, man, there is still time. You don't wanna deal with this shit.”

“No kidding.”

Sunday:

What do you do when you're stuck, and immobile?

What do you do when you have to look at the same fart-faced fucker every morning?

I'm so SICK of my life.

I wish for a miracle. Or an earthquake. I want this place to fall and crumble into a million pieces with me.

Everyday I get dirtier and stinkier. I have splashes of dirty water and spit, there are cobwebs on my back, lizards hiding behind me; I was SO much better off in that previous place. So what if there was a little competition and a little more jealousy? At least there was someone to wipe my face everyday!

Once in a while though, I have a relatively brighter morning. Quite fuckin' bright, actually. This generally happens on days when he brings home his girlfriend. Or wife. I don't know. I'm not too sure. I can only hear their muffled voices. Sometimes they're really loud. The closed door cannot really block anything at those times. I don't know about them, but MY life gets a LOT better when the next morning she walks in through that door and walks towards me and stops about a foot away from me. Then she takes her clothes off in a rather lazy (read slow) fashion. Her long, brown, wavy hair falls gently on her shoulders and then on her perfectly rounded breasts. She turns left and right a few times, her soft skin glowing in the morning light. Those five minutes make me want to never leave this place.

Sometimes I wonder though, why, and what-in-Gods-name is she doing with that asshole. He does NOT deserve her. Not even ONE bit. And I dont belong to this place.

I belong with her. I miss seeing her.

“I'm leaving, Martin.”

“Why?”

“I have work. I have to go. Why do you have to ask stupid fucking questions when you already know the answers to them?”

“O-KAY lady, chill the fuck out! No need to get all pissy on me. I just asked 'coz its 1am and its not safe for you to walk around alone.”

“Oh fuck off, Martin! Stop pretending to care!”

“I do care! I was just gonna tell you that I'm coming with you to walk you home.”

“No you weren't. This is again one of your fucking pretentious acts because you just want to get me naked.”

“You know what, Alice, fuck off. Get the fuck out of my house right now!”

“I wasn't planning on waiting, either. Dick-head.”

Monday:

I know I wrote last night that I miss that previous place, and also why I am still here.

But the two are so different from each other. That place, had SO much more to it. I could see so many people everyday, walking by, smiling, at me, at each other, some actually came and held me, some just looked at me with a blank stare, while some with a more pensive, or sad look. That place had so much life. Everyday was like a new story. I could see myself through all my beautiful friends.

Its really sad that we end up like this. All of us. Alone, in some house, some room, all our life. Some of us fall off though, before our time. At this point in my life I consider those ones lucky. I wish for that end. Anyway I have no life. And one view with all gross things almost carefully added to it.

“Hey man. You OK?”

“Yeah Martin. I'm fine. I'm fine.”

“You wanna get out of this room? You've been in here forever, man. Its not good for you.”

“No Martin. I'm fine. I'm fine.”

“..Dude?..listen..really..lets go out for a walk, what say?”

“You know, Martin, it used to be the living room. it was the first room you saw when you entered the house. thats when it had one door. now this thick, unpainted ply-board disguised as the main entrance to the room, has been screwed into a void that led to the rest of the house. this door is fixed in one corner of the smaller sides of the rectangle. and now its become my bedroom.”

“I know, man. We moved in together, remember?”

“Yeah Martin. I'm fine. I'm fine.”

“OK. I'm gonna get a coke. You want?”

“this other smaller side of the rectangle, which faces the main door, had a nail in it, about 7 feet above the cold, spotted-tiled floor. From the nail hung what looked like a ladder, but was actually a piece taken out of a thick wire-mesh which people attach on naked windows. On the ladder there were two figures. The one on top was the Joker's action figure, and it looked like it had climbed the ladder and was victorious. The other action figure was Batman, hanging off the ladder by one foot, defeated in a way.”

“I know man. I know.”

“What you do not know, Martin, is that I was better off at home, you know. This is not how it was supposed to turn out.”

“Dude, I'm just gonna be back, OK?”

“Martin, wait! The two windows of this bedroom are not naked. they are bonded into the longer walls of this shoe box, which face each other. The windows have horizontal bars on them, and they're clothed with off-white curtains. The bigger window faces me right now, and extends down to about a foot above the floor. at its base is a thick, single mattress, that is covered with a white bed sheet which has green stripes on it. Two pillows, both with beige colored pillow covers, lie on this bed. There is also a neatly-folded, earth-green colored, thin blanket at the foot of the bed and..”

“..Oi! Why are you describing the room to me!?”

“Haha! I don't know, Martin. But I'm fine. I'm fine.”

Tuesday:

THINGS I HATE:

I hate my life.

I hate the fart-faced fucker.

I hate lizards.

I hate cobwebs.

I hate being filthy.

I hate this place.

I hate this smell.

I hate the fact that I'm small and cheap.

I hate the fact that I can do nothing about it.

I hate when he stands naked in front of me.

I hate everything right now.

FUCK!

“He was describing the room to me, sir! And I had just asked him if he wanted a coke! He needs help, sir. I don't know what to do.”

“Look boy, you have to remain calm. This is a delicate situation we're dealing with here. I am trying to do as much as I can, but there are authorities above me, too. And they seem to have too much on their plate.”

“But sir this is important! This is about a student of yours!”

“I know, Martin. OK. I'm gonna go right now and talk to them and I will get him help. Is that OK?”

“Yes.. yes sir. Thank you.”

“Martin! Martin! Where the fuck are you sprinting to, man?!”

“Oh. John. Hey. I am going back to my house. He needs help man. This shit is getting real ugly.”

“Why what happened now?”

“I was chilling in my room, and then I tired to make conversation with him, asked him if he wanted a Coke, and dude, fuck, he started describing our room to me?! Like how fucking crazy is that?!”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. So. See you later, yeah?”

“Wait. Dude, you sure they wont find out right? I don't wanna get stuck into this shit.”

“You think I want to? Why do you think I'm being so active about this?!”

“OK, man. Just make sure my name doesn't pop up, yeah.”

“Then just stay out of it now and don't discuss this with anyone.”

Wednesday:

Highlight of the Day:

I almost fell today.

It could have been my luckiest moment.

I really need a miracle. Really.

“Martin I'm scared.”

“Shut the fuck up, Alice. This is not the time.”

“No! This is the time! So you shut the fuck up and listen to me!”

“...”

“He keeps looking at me, Martin. I'm really scared. Not of him. Just that look. Its really sad. Its like, he wants to say a lot to me, but cant. And it seems like he is really scared too. He didn't ask for this, Martin.”

“So what? You're saying that I did this to him?! Look, Alice. It was always his choice. I did not hold his hand and drag him into it! Its not my fucking problem if these fucking people come all the way here and take steps that they cant handle, just to fucking fit in!”

“It is your problem, Martin! It is yours, mine and Johnny's problem! If you go back to the roots of it, you will realize that we are the ones who did this to him. He was just an innocent boy with a lot of talents that made him friendly with us. We did not have to do this to him!”

“Why don't you just shut up and get the fuck out of my face right now?! I don't need this shit from you, OK!? I am trying to help him here! I am trying to h...”

“..its not gonna help! Nothing will help! Look at him sitting there! He has been there throughout this conversation and he hasn't even twitched his eye once! You see what we've done to him?! Do you?!”

Thursday:

I wish for something new.

I need to be taken out. I need love and care. I know that she can give me all of that. But how do I get her to take me away from here? One way is to keep getting filthier and filthier. That way at least to see herself, she will have to clean me. For which she will touch me with her soft hands. She will be really close to me. The very thought of it gives me goosebumps. I miss seeing her walk in here. I miss seeing her getting naked. She's the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Beautiful, but distressed. There is so much sadness in her eyes. I really just want her to smile at me once. I don't know why she is that way. But I know its his fault. I don't know what that fucker is doing to her. I hope she smiles when she's not with him. I hope he dies for this.

“Dude! Martin! Alice! Open up!!”

“What the fuck, Johnny!? Its 7 in the fucking morning! What the fuck are you doing in my house?!”

“I'm sorry to show up like this, Alice, but you guys have to see this!

“What is this?”

“Its today's newspaper, Martin Stevens, thats what it is! Wake the fuck up, you sonofabitch! Check this out..we're so SO fucked, man!”

“Oh my God. Someone please read this. I cant.”

“...it says.. Aniruddh Dube, 23, died yesterday, the morning of November 1st, 2011,

due to heart failure caused by overdose.

He was born on the 14th day of February 1988, attended St.Joseph's Co-Ed School,

where he was always an above average student, and also a member of the school basketball

and cricket team. He graduated from Srishti School of Art,Design and Technology with a

professional diploma in Animation. He had just transferred 4 months back to the Emily Carr Institute in Vancouver, Canada, for his Post-Graduate Diploma in Animation.

He had always been identified as an artist and animator with brilliant skills. his films, though few in number, have won honors and awards at a number

of National and International Film Festivals.

Aniruddh is survived by his parents, a younger brother,

and grandparents and cousins, and a loving family.”

“...fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh my god. What else does it say, Johnny?”

“..calm down, Alice, let him read..”

“..it says....A brilliant artist,a musician of unique talents, loving brother and son and a kind-

hearted human being, Aniruddh's presence in our lives will be sorely missed and we know

that his soul will find peace and will shine in Heaven.”

“Oh my fucking God. Now the cops will be after me since I'm his roommate. Oh fuck.”

“Martin, man, just don't let my name come up yeah?”

“Shut the fuck up, Johnny. We're all responsible.”

“Wait. Switch on the TV. Now. Where the fuck is your fucking TV?!”

“Its in the other room. Lets go.”

“OK where the fuck is the remote?!”

“Here.. switch it on..”

“...and those were images from the room Martin and Aniruddh shared. Police has sealed the area and has found in the attached bathroom, where Aniruddh's body was found, this diary, that he supposedly wrote. It seems a lot of questions will be answered through that diary..as of now the police has found the diary entries to be written from the point of view of a mirror, yes thats right, a mirror. After speaking to the school authorities and some teachers, its been made clear that Aniruddh, under the clear influence of drugs, had lost his state of mind, becoming delusional, and insane. The police is moving on to questioning Aniruddh's roommate Martin and his other close friends..

for now all we can show you, and what we have been given, is the last diary entry Aniruddh wrote..and this is what it says....”

“Friday:

Today the day has been MUCH MUCH better. It actually is probably the best day of my life so far.

He came in today morning and left no stone unturned in showing me the real meaning of the word gross. But, what followed that was scary, but the most beautiful thing that I have ever experienced!

He was standing in front of me, and then, he took off all this clothes. He had a blank stare in his eyes, and then he walked away. After about fifteen minutes of water sounds, he came back and stood in front of me again. This time he was naked AND wet. It was a feeling I cannot explain. But I did hope to shatter into pieces at that moment. I wanted to cry. His hands were on his crotch and I was looking away by then. And just when he started with his almost silent moans, I heard a loud thud, and then a lot of helpless movement, and a lot of crying and yelping for help followed that thud. The screaming dissolved into moans,which were more of excruciating pain this time. Soon even the moans went silent. And then there was no movement. Everything was dead. And so was he. Its been about 11hours since that happened. He's still here. And he's not moving. I have some spots of blood on me. I don't exactly know what happened, but I do know that soon someone will come and get me out of here. Very soon.

I'm very happy today!!!”

---------

Story- Digbejoy Ghosh

He remembers the sounds of the platform, the shouting of the porters and the overpowering horn of the electric locomotive. His mother sits there atop the red suitcase, red handbag resting on one side. Frantic lines of worry crease her heavily made up face as she looks around searching for something. The train begins to move, the platform slides away into oblivion, taking her and his past with it. He remembers looking out the window at the receding signs of civilisation, and a lush green countryside that takes over the landscape once more.

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

He now sits motionless in the green room, lit by a dim overhanging light. The computer screen in front of him casts a bluish glow on his sharp features. He is not overtly handsome, but has intelligent eyes, giving one an impression of innate brilliance. His hair is neither too long nor is it too short, somewhat in between, adding a rather boyish tinge to his character. Perhaps, it naturally reflects his real self-a young man still unsure of the world, yet unafraid and adventurous enough to take a risk or two.

The article on the screen seems to absorb him completely and he reads rapidly, sometimes pausing and re-reading certain lines, pondering them over in his mind.

The hacker known as Nexus is dead.

God help us.

For years the Conglomerates controlled and directed the lives of millions around the world, seizing almost totalitarian control over Information Technology the world over. They knew who you were, where you went, who you fucked and what colour your piss was. (The Americans had satellites that could do the same but that is a different story altogether).

It started out with tiny software upgrades.

'Install this add-on and you can see where your kids are'.

Or 'Update this software to fully know how much the Stocks Market will rise'.

So people installed their add-ons and upgraded their software, naïve as they were. They ignored the quacks who cried fowl and warned of the apocalypse. Obviously, who wouldn't? If only some NORMAL people stood on the streets and foretold the end of days!

Thus, dependence on these 'amenities' began to increase exponentially, and before anyone could really grasp the magnitude of what was going on, the Conglomerates had total control. There was nothing illegal about it, of course. They took care of the legalities. After all, it was the people who chose them right? They never forced anyone to use their databases, which by now had swollen to thousands of zettabytes.

The multitudes stood helpless against the megalomania. There were a few who resisted but were soon eliminated- the fortunate ones legally tangled in hearings and court orders that took lifetimes to clear, while the less fortunate just simply “taken care of”. Like any corporate giant, the Conglomerates employed a host of criminals and ex-convicts in their 'Public Relations' departments, who, in turn, dealt with any threat the only way they knew how to. Such details, were obviously rumours and nothing could ever be proven, in spite of an increasing number of disappearances and accidental deaths of key accusers and witnesses.

At a time of such chaos and neglect someone somewhere decided to shout louder than those before.

Enter Nexus.

Nobody knew who he really was, obviously. If they did, he'd be dead a lot sooner. All of a sudden, the Conglomerate servers began to fall prey to random acts of data terrorism. No matter what they did, it couldn't be stopped. Soon, the rumours turned to concrete evidence, and they were forced to concede the existence of this super-hacker to the public. A wave of resentment broke like a fever across the oppressed populace, who had been waiting for any signs of weakness. They now had their opportunity, and almost overnight, the Conglomerates began to lose credibility and control. Hundreds of independent groups started to fragment the erstwhile control that the behemoth had enjoyed. The bosses were furious. How could anybody so easily take their power from them?

A week passed.

Then a month.

The world was on its way to a new kind of freedom. People rejoiced, and sang praises for their hero. There were reports of men, women and children everywhere, claiming to be Nexus. Obviously, they couldn't all be him? Or her? Who knows.

Then the phenomenon simply stopped.

Cold in its tracks.

The attacks on the Conglomerates ceased, and once again people began to grow afraid. Was he really dead? Did the Conglomerates finally get to him?

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

He thinks of all the things that have happened in the past. The appearance of Nexus, the decline of the Conglomerates, then the complete cessation of the hacker's activities.

Then finally, the appearance of the journal.

In his obsession to find out what had really happened, he began to dig deep into the innards of the Net. It wasn't long before he found something. Something that nobody else had found. Something that nobody would ever find.

Of course, he didn't know that until later.

At first it seemed to be just strings of meaningless code, and after running it through various decoders, he came up with nothing. Not easily frustrated, however, he devised a new application to crack it.

Seventy hours of caffeine fuelled back-breaking work later he had it.

The data definitely showed signs of being created by someone who knew what they were doing. It was designed in such a way that once accessed, it would be deleted from its original source, and would exist only within the computer of the finder.

Pure genius.

What was intriguing, however, was not its origin, but what it contained. A document of a sea voyage to the islands of Mauritius, off the east coast of the African continent. Insider intelligence confirmed that a facility housing the majority of the Conglomerate servers was located in that region. He'd seen too much to believe in coincidences. He reached the end of the journal, perplexed by its descriptions, only to realise that it was incomplete.

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

Hours have passed since then. Maybe days. Who knows?

The green room stays dimly lit, a cocoon of light surrounding the young man. He leans back in his swivel chair and sighs, cradling his chin in his hand. His eyes remain calm through the narrow slits, but his mind is racing. Thought upon thought, adding things up, analysing their sum total, then taking them apart again. His forefinger taps at his cheek at equal intervals, keeping time with his mind. Then suddenly, it stops, and a dead silence follows.

What if this journal contains a message?

Something that isn't obvious?

I need some fresh air.

He looks at the photograph across the desk. A middle-aged woman stands there, an arm wrapped around the shoulder of a young boy.

He remembers his mother again.

It was difficult living with her. It always had been. Up until the time his father was alive, it was alright. He'd somehow managed to keep her restless anger in check. They would have their pointless arguments, and it would then simmer down. Soon after his death, the nagging got worse. She began to see fault in everything that he did. “Your father would've never done that”, she would say. That made things even worse. It made him feel angry and helpless. There was no way he could vent his anger on his mother. This carried on for years, and he became a silent recipient of her blind wrath.

One summer they were travelling south together, to meet relatives. His mother, being her usual self, had already spent a marathon three hours reproaching him for practically everything he did or did not do. When they reached the station, he quietly helped her off with her luggage. He then climbed back into the train and returned to his seat. As the train started to move, he watched his mother seated alone with her luggage looking around for him. Their eyes met momentarily, an eternity passed between them.

Finally, he steeled himself and gathered the courage to look away. He was sixteen then, young and impulsive, but he never looked back.

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

The green room looks the same.

As he leans back in his chair, his eyes begin to shut. At first he fights it, blinking forcefully to stay awake, but slowly sleep comes over him, his tired body going limp in the chair.

A slow dream envelops his mind.

His mother on the platform, sits by herself clutching the red bag in her arms, but her face is distorted. No matter how hard he tries he cannot see her face from the window in the train. He turns away to find himself on a boat. A storm is brewing in the distant horizon. He cranes his neck to watch the clouds gathering in an ominous anvil high up in the sky. The waves get higher as the boat begins to rock. Loose sheets of yellowed paper fly by him, followed by a strange man running behind. The man tries to catch the sheets of paper but misses them just short of the railing. To his utter dismay, the sheets of paper fly off into the sea and soon disappear into the wind. By this time his mind has begun to adjust to its environment and the dazed confusion is replaced by a serene and detached sense of acceptance, almost like a casual sightseer in a zoo. The storm strikes the boat with an animal vengeance, battering every inch with tidal waves metres high. He feels no sense of urgency, however, just surprise at his odd lack of fear. He sees grey concrete in front of him now. He can't remember how the storm ended. This dream world seems to have its own rules of time and continuity. The unknown man from the boat trudges alongside him towards a building and disappears behind a thorny bush growing from the sand.

He wakes up with a start.

His chair squeaks a mild protest while he adjusts his position a little. His back hurts and his left leg feels numb. He straightens himself out and sits upright, looking at the picture of his mother and him.

What is a nexus?

A link or a tie.

Between what?

Was he in some way bringing us back in touch with our lost humanity?

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

Its been weeks since I stumbled across the journal, and I have nothing. However, I'm now beginning to realise the truth. The truth about Nexus. Maybe he never died, just simply disappeared quietly into the annals of history. Maybe he did. We will never know for sure. It is clear though, that he left the journal there for a reason. It was the only piece of himself he had left, and he wanted to share it with somebody. Somebody who was worthy. It is as if he wanted Nexus to be a concept, a phenomenon, not owned or inherited by a single entity. A force, if you will, that stood up for the little trace of humanity left within us.

I finally know now what I have to do. The epiphany occurred at an unexpected moment like most epiphanies do, but my mind is clear now. I know that I must finish what he started. I must continue his legacy and fight with all that I have the forces that oppress our people. The Conglomerates have been above the law of man for too long, but no more. They might reach me, take my life from me but they cannot destroy a concept. This is what Nexus is. Long after I am gone, it will continue to live on, an undying, infinite power of justice. I just have one regret now. I will never see my mother again, I know she's dead. She died the day I left her, and there is nothing I can do about it. I will live with this guilt for the rest of my life but I hope I can make up for my actions by helping those in need. Nexus is now my life, my identity, and it will live on forever, even after I'm gone.

Final story-Chitra

During the time of the riots,Ken and his parents moved to his grandmothers house which was situated on a hilltop in the forest as it ensured safety. Ken had a wonderful time over there,bounded with the love and care of his grand mother.They did not have to know anything about the turmoil in the city. Owing to financial difficulties, his parents had to move back to the city, also,the riots were over by then. That day he told his grandmother 'I will come back to you and I will stay here'.
Holding a tear in her eye,she said' I hope that is a promise.' Now that he was big enough,16, to travel on his own,he decided to go and meet his grandmother. He knew she would be so happy to meet him after two years.He got into the morning bus.

The bus rolled on in the failing evening light and the weather got chillier as it went on to high altitude. Long winding roads and the dust had made him feel so clogged and sick.The bus snorted its way uphill until it came to a halt under the 'enchanted' banyan tree. A lot of memories gushed into his mind about the times he had spent with his grandmother. It bridged the gap of time they had been apart,it seemed like it all happened yesterday.He looked up through the trees and saw the old house,centrally aligned on the hill,like a cherry on a christmas cake. He felt a refreshing energy surge into his tired legs ,carrying him to the lane leading to her house.Two rows of trees bordered the lane. Nature had rolled out its carpet of purple flowers and yellow leaves to welcome him into the house. The house looked no different from the surrounding as it did not even have any fencing. He walked towards the house ,his heart throbbing with joy.He stopped for a while and looked at the house with nostalgia.The bricks of the house had cracked here and there and mini rivulets were emerging from some of them.Obviously,it had been raining.The green colour of the thick moss contrasted the reddish brown colour giving the house a natural look.The tiled roof was almost dark succumbing to the harsh weather at times.As he stepped on to the porch to knock,he noticed splinters of wood chipped off from the the door.As he was about to knock,the door opened and grand mom came out.
She gasped and hugged him close.'Oh dear! there! I knew you would come...! This was the only thing left to be fulfilled and am so happy to see you.Look,you have become such a big boy!!!.She kissed his forehead
' Oh my god,I thought I must have changed over the years,you knew it was me.I have kept my word and I travelled all the way just to see you.You look cuter than ever grandma,I don't remember such a radiant smile on our face,but you look a little pale and weak....'Ken said
'Nah,you just look at me,I am going to be perfect when you are around'.The room smelt like it had not been dusted for ages. Her arm chair looked like it will crumble any moment. He almost felt like his family abandoned her in this place,to survive all on her own.Though they had asked her to move to the city, she said that this is where her heart is ,so she would love to live all her life here.
'Come here. I have something for you!'She called out from the kitchen.
He went in smiling.
The table was set with all the things he loved.He was struck with awe. 'How did you know I was coming?'
' The wind told me' she smiled.
A cool breeze blew in carrying the sweet smell of flowers , along with the music of the heavens spraying rain.
They sat down at the table .' I hope you like it'
'Sure I will,you have a magic touch,but I can't belive you sensed that I'd come.Telepathy I must say'
'Yes,I've been waiting for you'
He started his food relishing each and every bit.
' This is so yummy, I love it'
'Im glad.eat.eat.eat....'she smiled.
She stroked his hands lovingly.
He talked a lot about his family and their life in the city. She too shared many things about the village with him.
After food,they sat on the bed and talked about this and that.He did not know when he dozed off to sleep.
In the morning,he woke up sneezing because of dust allergy.He rubbed his nose and his itchy watering eyes. The room was well lit by the light flowing in through the window and creaks on the wall. He stood up and stretched his long hands.A house lizard entered from the cracks and moved into a slightly open drawer.He noticed that and opened the drawer.He shook the papers and a small cloud of dust rose up making him sneeze even more.He looked inside to see if the lizard had gone off when his eyes noticed something intriguing,a newspaper cutout with his grandmas photo. He carefully took it out and read.

Rosa Philip,74,passed away due to a minor heart attack in her house .She was recovering from a stroke.But unfortunately,this had to happen.She had been such a loving ,helpful and strong woman .She died a day before her birthday.We hope her soul rests in peace...May god.."

He could read no more. He could not believe it or understand it.He frantically searched for her all around the house,but he could not find her.
He rushed out of the house when he saw a man walking towards the house .
'Who are you?And why are you here?'he inquired
'Im her grandson...I came to meet her..'Ken said,pointing at the house.
'I am sorry.She passed away in this house an year ago, a peaceful death'
'What?'
'Yes, thats true,we could not inform you all because we didn't have any means to contact you.'
'She was buried near the banyan tree.She rests in peace there'
'Okay...'
Ken rolled his eyes,looked down and walked away in silence, his mind caught in a web of thoughts.