The Vigilante's Revenge

The case containing the ArmaLite-AR15 semi-automatic weapon hung on his shoulders as he slowly made his way up, to the top of the terrace. It was a breezy October night. The moon was completely hidden, covered behind the dark, rain bearing clouds. The menacing clouds that enveloped the entire sky spread a blanket of darkness over the city. Streaks of lightning kindled the sky with momentary flashes. It would soon start to rain. These conditions were ideal for the mercenary to execute his plans.

He had traveled a long way to reach the spot from where he was going to assassinate his target. As he made his way up to the terrace of the abandoned building, he started to mentally rehearse the entire plot. The timing had to be perfect, for the man he was going to gun down was no ordinary person. He was the final one in the list of four the assassin had vowed to eliminate. His quarry's death would initiate a sequence of events which would have serious ramifications for many powerful men around the globe. The plan to kill was immaculate and made to the last detail. There would be no leeway or Plan B, and above all there wouldn't be a second chance.

The assassin reached the roof top and laid down his assemblage in a dark corner. He slowly stretched himself to relax the tension that was building up in his muscles. His hand made its way to the breast pocket to retrieve the cigarette and match. As he struck the match, the flare of light revealed his scarred face for an instant. The scar on his left cheek was an old one, made by the slash of a sharp edged blade. Its manner of healing suggested that it had been there for a long time. The man who gave him that scar was going to die that very day. It was a vendetta to be redeemed long past its due date, with plenty of interest to compensate for the delay.

The man sat down and opened the case which contained the ArmaLite semi automatic rifle and its accessories. He took out the entire set and arranged the pieces of the potent weapon in order and started to re-assemble it. The weapon had not been used in a long time. And tonight would be the last time it would be used. He mounted the telescopic sight and the laser focus on top of the rifle and loaded it with a 30-round Stanag magazine. He then set the tripod on the parapet wall of the terrace and mounted the rifle on the tripod to get his elevation and bearings right. There would only be one shot to take and that would be directed to rip through the target's heart.

The rifle was aimed at a precise point on the marked door. The target would stand at the doorway for less than five seconds before entering a heavily shielded limousine, which would transport him to another secret location. Two guards would lead the way out of the house and protect him from the front, one guard each would stand by his two sides and two security personnel would complete the rear. However, the view from the top was not hindered by the presence of those security guards. This loophole was to cost the target dearly. The deep cloud cover provided by the soot colored sky ensured that the assassin's position was not given away. The man and weapon were camouflaged in black to keep them concealed from the roving eyes of the guards

The target was a man of sixty one. He had been a dictator of a gold-rich impoverished country. Under his aegis, his three military generals had engaged in full scale genocide. He had powerful friends, backers and supporters, whose names were secretly stashed away in the locker of an obscure bank. If he were to die prematurely, those details were to be released to the world by his trusted aide, causing heavy damage to all those implicated. A pact was made between him and the powers that be to shield him from the prosecution of law and protect him from his enemies. In return, those names were to be kept a closely guarded secret. It was through this arrangement he eventually gained asylum to a country which could not be reached by the justice of international courts.

It was half past nine and another fifteen minutes remained for the dictator to emerge through the doorway. The assassin sat by the side of the parapet wall. His palms and forehead were drenched in nervous sweat and his heart was beating at an incredibly high rate. He wiped off the sweat and took a few deep breaths to bring his thumping heart back to normal. The moment was upon him. He raised himself to a crouching posture such that his head was level with the telescopic sight. His fingers were around the trigger and his eyes were focused on one spot on the door marked by the red-dot of the laser beam. The hunter patiently waited for his prey to emerge from its lair.

At 9:45 p.m. the door opened and two guards stepped out to secure the front and then another two came through to secure the sides. The dictator came into view and stood right at the doorway, waiting for the approaching limousine to halt. At the same moment, the assassin, high on the terrace of the building, quickly re-adjusted the rifle to locate his target and squeezed the rifle’s trigger. The multiple bullets found their mark in the dictator’s heart. Not knowing what hit him, the dictator quietly slumped to the ground, motionless and dead. Pandemonium broke loose instantaneously. Shots were randomly fired in the dark by the guards and the call that the dictator was dead went out.

The sniper discreetly escaped in a four wheel drive while commotion reigned in the parallel alley. He reached the point on the river front where he was to rendezvous with his transporter. From there he was to be transported to the neighboring country, where he would hide for a while and then make his escape to obscurity, once the dust over the killing settled down. The boat he got into was a small motor boat with no room for extravagance. He settled down in one corner of the boat and watched as the distance between land and the boat began to grow. His mission was accomplished.

He remembered that infernal night when a group of militia had razed his village to the ground twenty years ago. On that day, he had been unable to put off the fire that had consumed his family and the village, while he stood humiliated in front of the dictator. For over a decade, he had fought for justice against a system built on corruption, power and wealth. When all efforts to punish the perpetrators failed, he had resolved to deliver justice all by himself. That task was now complete and the fire in his heart was finally doused.

Universe and consciousness

Did the Universe exist before I was born?
Will it exist after I die?
Did I create the Universe by becoming conscious or did the universe create me?
What is beyond this Universe?
What is time?
Is the Universe governed by order or by chaos?
What is the meaning of purpose?
Is reason, reasonable?
Are emotions only chemical concentrations in the brain?
Is there anything absolute?
What exists beyond duality?
Are there things we will never be able to find out?
What is the origin of man and when is his end?
What happens when man evolves, does he remain or does he become another species?
Are there higher levels of reality?
Is it possible to transcend time, space and duality?
Is immortality a reality of this world or any other worlds?
Is the Self, a real entity, or a hypothesis?

My Experiments with Coffee!

Veritably, Great Souls can afford to Experiment with Truth. But lesser mortals like me have to settle for more mundane things such as experimenting with coffee. I cannot access the philosophical realms of my mind, wherein lies the key to greater pursuits of human life. So, I have resigned myself to talk about a more trivial matter i.e. of my mad-scientist-like experiments with coffee. You might be a tad bit curious to know why coffee? The answer to this lies in the climatic conditions prevailing in my immediate neighborhood and the constant stream of 'You always look tired' comments.

Having heard and had enough of these lamentations about my perennial somniacal countenance, I decided to research on ways to keep myself alert and active. And guess what? The first thing I stumbled upon in my literature review - Coffee. Before going any further into my description of the problem statement, I should give you a background of my caffeine habits. As with everything else, there is a long history.

I don't quite remember when I had my first cup of coffee. What I do know is that there were two sparring groups in my house, the Caffeine Democrats and the Lactose Republicans. The former favored passing the law to introduce coffee into my system while the latter opposed such a move vehemently. Both sides had valid points to merit their case. For instance, the Caffeine Democrats argued saying, "Only cats drink milk". The Republicans were not left far behind, they countered with a reply, "Cats don't drink chocolate milk". The strength of the Republican's prevailed for a long time. Then came the mantra, "Change" and "Yes, we can". I wanted a change too. So I started favoring the Democrats and thus the law for "Caffeine in Sumanth's veins" came into existence. By then I was in junior college and the Republicans deemed me fit for coffee anyway !

Suffice to say, coffee was not by any means a significant contributor to my body's activity quotient. Now that I look back, I wonder if it was just coincidence that even then I was commented upon for having a lethargic and droopy appearance. Anyway, coming back to the description of the present malaise, the effect of a hill station climate coupled with my usual lazy, easy going attitude were earning me more accolades than the amount deemed decent. So I decided to do something to boost my activity levels. Having read a great deal about the merits of coffee for doing exactly this, I hit upon a plan to experiment with coffee. Instead of the occasional coffee, I started having 4 cups each day. Here is the gist of the results obtained so far:

Effect on Circadian Rhythm: For the uninitiated ones, circadian (circa-cycle; diem-day) refers to the daily biological cycle of the human body. There is a marked difference in my routine. Caffeine's effect seems to linger on for about 3 hours post intake time. I don't feel drowsy and there is clarity in my understanding. A few hours after my last cup, I feel extremely sleepy and drop dead asleep. My sleep is marked by more intense and deep sleep. I have little recall of my movements in sleep (something i remembered earlier)

Effect on reaction time: My reaction time shows improvement as measured in my TT games after a coffee. I can anticipate the ball path quicker although i still suck at TT in general :). During the post coffee period, I feel alert and experience higher levels of awareness of the surrounding environment. Concentration is higher in the usual office tasks.

There are a host of secondary effects as well which i shall reserve for another time. In the overall sense coffee seems to be showing positive effects. The next steps would be to study the "Reaction kinetics and post withdrawal symptoms pertaining to caffeine inhibition" :)

My half-gone shoe!

Ever since the time I set my eyes on you,
I made you mine without further ado,
you were fresh n bright and sprightly new,
I totally adored you, my precious Woodland's shoe

you protected me from dust and rain,
and stood by me through joy and pain,
I really trusted you, for you were totally true,
I'd have done anything for you, my darling shoe

on tough days, i was harsh with you,
and then sometimes, I was hurtful too,
but you never did mind my outbursts few,
I was blessed to have you, my committed shoe

and the passage of time took its toll,
slowly you lost all your body and sole,
I desperately tried to mend and fix you,
I was worried about you, my favorite shoe

now I see you lying here, faded and dying,
I am filled with sorrow and half-crying,
wishing I could do something to revive you,
without you I am incomplete, my dearest shoe

The cat on the front porch

My eyes caught a furry ball darting across the entrance of the flat I was moving into. The sight of a cat crossing my path on the very first day made me wonder if it was an ominous sign of misfortunes to come. The feeling was probably on account of having experienced an eccentric grandmother uttering scary happening's and then following it up with remedies for various maladies caused by strokes of bad luck. I quickly dismissed those thoughts as remnants of superstitions repeated by granny in those days of folklore and mythology.

All of this reminded me of my tryst with sinister creatures, which henceforth I shall refer to as Close Encounters of the Fourth Kind. The reptilian species, arachnids and feline races have crossed my path at different stages in my life. I hold the record for stamping a snake as a small kid, the ignominy of getting scratched by kittens during school days, and the embarrassment of suffering from a painful bite by an unknown creature in my final semester at college. Rest assured, I feel that my fellow species on this planet and I are irrevocably bound and intertwined in this journey of life. Therefore, the presence of this four legged critter was subconsciously accepted.

The cat at the front door had an eerily shiny fur coat. Its body was velvety black, with eyes resembling reflecting glass beads. The feline eyes wore the look of ultimate deception, like a femme fatale enticing her lover into a bond of irresistible desire. The black beauty had an alert pose, ready to make an instantaneous dart, like a cobra with its hood raised, waiting to strike down its enemy in a split second.

I was very much impressed by this creature of nine-lives. And after our initial acquaintance, I believe, she was equally awed by my presence :). Over the next few days, we treated each other like wary adversaries. At first, she would carefully watch me coming towards her, readily waiting to streak across while I would be readying myself for a feline pounce and attack. And then over time she got used to my approaching footsteps and stopped preparing for the final sprint of her first life :) . For my part, I slowly got over the fear of being scratched by yet another feline. I did not want a parable like 'Once scratched, twice shy' coming into use due to me.

Slowly, the cold in our relationship thawed. She became more friendly and I started to relax. On my arrival back from work, she would lead the flight of steps to my third floor abode. At each landing, she would stop and turn around to see if I was still behind her. And finally, she would drop me off at my door and head back to her ground floor resting spot. Once in a while, I would feed her tidbits of edible items. She would inspect the food items with great dignity and consume them only if it was deemed good.

Ever since the time I first met her, she has always remained a regal black feline, unlike her lazy counterparts. She has a way of her own. Going around the neighborhood, like a queen inspecting her subjects. I don't see her very often these days. Once in a while, I spot those shiny green eyes in the dark alley leading to my home and I know she is out there, bewitching yet another admirer.

This part fact-fiction short story, for whatever it is worth, is dedicated to Ruskin Bond, whose works I am presently reading.

After three years....

They had last seen and spoken to each other over three years ago. It was mutually agreed upon that their paths would never ever cross again. But fate is not without a sense of irony, is it? At the most unexpected time and in the least expected of all places, the impossible happens. And that is how they came across each other. This might prompt you to think of an appropriate closing, "..... and they lived happily ever after"

But this ain't a bollywood feel good movie or a hollywood mush-flick. There are no happy ending's in reality. Life is driven by selfish pursuits of egoistic individuals, the clash of which produces irreparable consequences. There is a way out at each stage. There is a compromise available at every point. But no. Vanity is more important than anything else. That alone drives and defines who we are. And so does everyone have to live with the choices they have made. Enough of this gyaan now. Lets get back to the story.

That day had begun very well for both of them. Vikram had just got off the call with his boss who had informed him of an upcoming promotion. Suraksha was about to get her first novel published. The editor of the book house had broken that news to her just a few hours ago, that morning. They were headed to the same place, the popular sweet shop on the corner of the main street. Both of them were celebrating for the first time in three years. Happiness and achievement are rare things in this world.

To be continued ....

ps: A statutory warning. I don't have a complete plot yet.

Improv Acting

Improv acting is a term i recently came across. It is a very interesting concept. There is a play and there are actors on the stage. But wait. Something important seems to be missing?

That something happens to be the plot. In this type of acting, the plot develops dynamically on the stage. Every character assumes some role and starts a dialogue. It is upto the rest of them to improvise on the situation and keep the dialogue open ended.

The idea here is to keep the dialogue going for as long as possible. One of the interesting elements of this kind of theatre is the need to be open minded and have a lateral thinking ability to respond spontaneously to a situation.

The idea behind such a thematic acting is develop skills of quick thinking, decision making and rapid assessment of situations.