Tag Archives: War on Terrorism

One Night Stand

By Joybrato Dutta

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She dumped me. That bitch dumped me. She just walked away after gulping 5 pegs of scotch.

How could she?!? Damn her!

I walked out, sat in my car and drove. Don’t know whereto. Just drove.

Traffic didn’t seem friendly either. They welcomed me with a red light each time I entered their vicinity. Hawkers, beggars and eunuchs were all over my car. There was a couple tearing their lips apart in the car next to me. Damn them. Damn all of them.

Once I got out of their reach phone calls flowed in. “Hey mate, all well? Did you break up? She changed her status message to single.” What the fuck. Damn Facebook. That slut couldn’t wait for me to absorb the fact?!? She had to declare her victory!

I steered my car towards my apartment. My bloody phone beeped. Bloody over dramatic friends were at my place. They think I need a bloody friend. They want to hold my bloody hand while I cry. Who the fuck needs them? I turned around and I switched off my goddam cell phone. It’s the biggest threat to privacy. I had nowhere to go. By now everyone must be aware of my tragedy. And there was not a single friend who wasn’t on Facebook. Why do I have to add everyone? I cursed, cursed and cursed.

I needed to pee. I parked my car and fled to the nearest tree. On my way back I noticed a shady little bar. Did that even exist? All these days I have been travelling on this road and not once did I notice it.

As they say ‘Don’t judge a book by the cover’. The inside was even uglier. ‘The Afterlife’. Who the fuck names a bar like that. I took the nearest vacant table and waited for the waiter. A waitress snapped in front of me. I winced. “What would you like to have, sir?” Well how about some Potassium Cyanide for starters, and in case you don’t have them may be you can give me a MACHINE GUN. She stood there speechless. The first woman since evening, who actually wanted to listen to me. I cooled myself. One large JD with soda and some ice cubes.

In no time she got me my drink. I started drinking. 1 down …..2….3………..7. I don’t know was it alcohol or tears, but the world seemed hazier. I just hoped it remains like that. But another snap and the blur faded away. This time it came from another woman. Short leather skirts. Black stockings. Lipstick broader than her lips. Less skin and more make-up on the face. Perfect slut. She took the chair beside. “Can I buy you a drink”, she asked.

Now a slut will buy me a drink. Is that even professional? How does she manage her profits? While I was pondering over such logical thoughts she blurted “I am not an escort, stop staring at my breasts”. She definitely got me on that one. She continued “Just saw you tensed and thought may be you can use a friend”. What!!! Again!!! Is it written all over my face? All of a sudden the world is trying to empathize with me. I didn’t answer. She told me that she knows a better place where we can we can do the real stuff. Stuff that makes the pain go away. Stuff that erases every tragic memory.

Of course she was not a slut.

I walked out of the bar and drove wherever she took me.

The place looked similar to the drug-pedalling lanes shown in films. She asked me to wait there, while she got off the car. She was back in 5 minutes.

“Park your car there and follow me”

I did just the same. I wasn’t even in a condition to think for myself. Following orders seemed an easier task.

We entered this apartment filled with bigger losers. The pretentious ones. The wannabes. She guided me to this room where everyone was doing cocaine. Initially I resisted. Weed and hash are different things. But cocaine was way out of my league. She persuaded me. “Easy remedy for broken hearts”, she said.

And there I was snorting for the first time in my life. The first round hit me so bad that I flew back as if Bruce Lee had just kicked me. But I rose. To face the kick once again.

After a few rounds my nose started bleeding. But I didn’t give up. The slut who wasn’t really a slut pulled me back.“That’s enough! You don’t want to die”, she screamed.

She pulled me to the balcony. Holy fuck, we were on the 50th floor. Or was it the 5th? But the streets definitely seemed far away. Cold breeze touched my lips. And then the warmth of her lips touched them. She was a crazy kisser. I was helpless and I surrendered to her lurid desires. I caressed her back. My hand found its way into her shirt. She had a soft body. And then from nowhere, cops came.

Their sirens were so loud that it shook the building. Aren’t cops supposed to be stealthy?

“Run, run, cops are here. Throw that stuff. Burn it.” People were screaming all around. Insanity had struck in this sane world.

She pulled me up. She buttoned her shirt and then pulled me to the terrace. There she took off the lid of the water tank and pushed me inside.

Splash!!!

To all those Chemistry teachers who go around teaching that water is tasteless – Fuck you. It tasted better than anything I had ever savoured. As I was drowning in it, it seemed I was getting elevated to a more beautiful place. A paradise. I closed my eyes and lay flat at the bottom of the tank. Speechless. Motionless.

Suddenly I just got pulled out of my paradise. Reality had struck me once again.

“The cops have left. Don’t make a noise and follow me”, she whispered. I wanted to abuse her for bringing me back to reality. But I didn’t utter a word. May be it was her touch. It diminished every negative emotion.

I sat on the front seat while she took the driver’s seat. Together we just drove.

Suddenly in the middle of nowhere she took a screeching halt.

“Let’s fuck!” She exclaimed

“Just like that”, I questioned.

“How else?”

In a flash my fly got unzipped. My trousers were pulled down and I was inside her. In the middle of the night, in the middle of the street, inside my car, I was having the fuck of a lifetime. I fucked like it was the first time I was having sex. I fucked like it was the last time I was having sex.
Her soft body touched my lips. I looked up and for the first time I noticed her eyes. They were beautiful. She was beautiful. She was the best I had ever seen. She was the best who I had ever touched.

“You were good” she said while she buttoned her shirt.

Then she got off the car and started walking away. I tried stopping her. Pleaded for her name, phone number, address, but she just walked away. I was hardly in a condition to stop her. I watched her shadow fade away in the dark.

Somehow I dragged myself back into my car. Turned on the ignition and started driving. To nowhere.

My hands grew lighter while my eyes became heavier. Vision was getting blurred. But somehow I just continued driving. I was feeling the vehicle was getting out of my control. The road ahead was hardly visible. And then I fell asleep.

I slept, slept, slept and slept.

And then I woke up. It was morning and I was alive. I was actually alive! I tried to start my car but failed. Then I looked at the beeping indicator. The petrol tank was empty. On a normal day I would have cursed the car and my carelessness. But today I was thankful. It saved my life.

I walked to the nearest petrol pump. On the way I switched on my cell phone. Messages started flowing in. I remembered my break-up. I logged on to Facebook and ‘Liked’ her relationship status. I was in a mood for forgiveness.

It was the craziest night of my life and I decided to write about it in my blog.

And then I did.

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911 vs 100: A Realistic Review

dial 100

By Ankit Chandra

Yes. I plan to compare the two numbers. There are many factors to look at, and I will try to sum them up as precisely as possible…

Ask any American, or watch enough Hollywood movies and you will see that 911 is something that Americans use very frequently, for things as small as sticking your hand to something very embarrassing (in American Pie) to something much bigger as in Die Hard… But you get the picture… as soon as there is any situation of any kind and severity, 911 is one of the first things they will think of. Efficiency of this system is so good that you are almost assured a response in minutes wherever you are in the country. There is proper research done while making roads, to ensure that any part of a city is reachable in 2-10 minutes from the nearest Police patrol (my ex roommate was working for a firm that did this research)

100 on the other hand usually has a fleeting reference in the heads of Indians. Should something go wrong, the first set of people we think about are our neighbors, or friends. In some cases, we probably don’t even want to get involved with the police. Like Hollywood in previous case, if you watch enough Bollywood movies, you will see that people do not usually want the police to get involved, or the police any how comes only when the hero has beaten the crap out of the villain, despite the absence of police. What I imply from this is that police is at least considered inept, or inconsiderate, or untrustworthy.

But if I think deeper about this, the differences don’t just stay as mere facts and jokes as above… They begin to show the vast difference that exists between the two countries.

To implement a system like 911, a few basic things are needed. First it needs to be such a dependable system that time and again, anywhere, anyhow, should there be an emergency, some help should be able to reach the victim. It is only then that a person will trust this 3 digit number so much to remember, and call, this number when their life is in danger. In addition, this number should be able to give you the warmth that you would have no inhibitions in trusting them for any situation of any sort. Third, the versatility of this number should be such that this number can handle any kind and severity of situation.

These are just a few components that go into making this system work. Any person in Process Management would tell you that this calls for operational efficiency, and that too of a very high standard, because it deals with lives of people. Implementing this, even in a small society of 200 apartments is such a huge pain. I can tell you this by my experience in getting an electrician to fix a power cut in my apartment in Delhi.

Now imagine implementing this at the level of a nation. One of the world’s biggest nations by land size and population. But this has been implemented here in the US. And everytime I think of this system, and dare to compare it to 100, I first get awestruck, and then get upset.

Why can’t India implement a system like that? What’s stopping us? Don’t we deserve to have such a system to help us lead a better life? Must our loved ones die waiting for help to arrive? Or worse still. die waiting because the PM is visiting the Hospital?

It needs will which is easy to say, but much more difficult to implement. It is also dependent on how strongly people ask for this, and make this (instead of speaking Marathi in Maharashtra) a political issue. And that comes from social awareness. That is VERY different from education, which is again VERY different from literacy… A nation of 1 billion, with most people not even knowing the significance/value of such a system is where we lack the point. And I think the most critical role here is to be played by the middle class in India. I belong to it, and by having studied in US now, I know what we lack. There are many more middle class students who have been lucky enough to see and understand the difference between the two systems. Now that we are ‘aware’ we must pass this on, and strive to make everyone aware of this.

It is only when people are aware of this that leaders will rise, and take this issue further, and even take it on to them to implement this. And then we will have someone to vote for. Then we could also look at appointment of competent officers in implementing this system, and much more importantly, sustaining it.

The best way to resolve our issues is to move bottom up. And for that we need to be aware…

  • ReThink911 (careandwashingofthebrain.blogspot.com)