Dear 21yr old fake Versace T-shirt wearing guy

azam

Was it the virgins or did you expect to be back home after your exploits in Mumbai? I am also told that your brainwashers don’t necessarily specifiy  the gender of the virgins supplied in the Mission-Accomplished-Bar you guys chill out after your courageous displays of blowing up unarmed civilians. In my opinion, I don’t really think virgin women (and men) dig your kind of kill-for-statistical-glory bravado. Playing video games involves more bravery because the AI at least shoots back.

So what was the point really? To shut India down? So you think repeatedly attacking Mumbai enough times will push it over the edge into collapse. Um. Not going to happen, and I am not speaking with chest-thumping Rambo-style aggression, or Dubya style bring-it-on fake machoness. I know my India well enough to know its limitations. We have our fair share of corrupt, ineffective politicians, a slower-than-a-three-toed-sloth administration, a crippled alertness and rescue infrastructure, and an educated middle-class that mostly does not participate in the democratic process. We also have people like Raj Thackeray, but the India I know is not likely to panic and indulge in an overdose of security theatre. I speak as someone who has lived in Mumbai in the past and studied at OLPS, Chembur for a couple of years, eaten its Vadapav and wolfed down its Pani puri. Listen to this. While the NSG was flushing you guys out of the Taj, the city was already back on its feet, back to doing what it does best, learning from its mistakes and moving on.

Guess what. The city will slowly, yes, painfully, learn, and do what it needs to do to keep itself safer. Mumbai will demand that the administration be better prepared, and that a local version of the NSG be created. Mumbaikars understand something that your guns and grenades cannot blow away. They understand the myth of 100% security, and that it’s more important to live and enjoy one’s life while being sensibly prepared for the worst. That spirit, I am told, is more or less bomb proof. The people I’ve been following on Twitter and occasionally on TV all exemplify this attitude. While our media will chew on this fodder for a few more weeks, the city will take a deep breath, commit to memory, and reboot.

Other minor matters. One hears that the plan was to “Marriot” the Taj? To bring a historical building down and sear the collective consciousness of an entire city?

tajmahal

It’s still standing.

Again, no misplaced pride here. Perhaps a slightly better understanding of civil engineering might have helped, but then again, had you guys paid more attention to the teachers in your school than the brainwashers who packaged a suicide mission as a go-buy-some-candy-for-me request with a return plan, you might have learned enough to call their bluff.

A small request to the Taj hotel management. How about a one-week, all-expenses-paid vacation for these guys at your hotel? This was about the only time they could have afforded to sit in your reception

commando

Story time

“It’s story time paati”, beamed Jilpasura as he settled into his king sized bed, after a light repast involving several swimming things, a few mountain ranges of rice, a family pack of Arun ice cream and a few red bananas from Kerala.

Jalsa Rakshasi was just getting ready to play Half Life 2. But headcrabs could wait.

“Ok. For a change, let’s ignore our noble (and often unfortunate) ancestors, and let me tell you a story about stories.”

“Hmm. A meta story?”

“Not necessarily, although we could make it recursive, like

Jalsa Rakshasi wanted to put her grandson to sleep quickly so she could get back to playing Half Life 2.

“Let me tell you a story about stories”, she declared.

“Is it a meta story?”, asked the young asura

“Not necessarily, although we could make it recursive.

Jalsa Rakshasi wanted to put her grandson to sleep quickly…

“Hey. Hold. break(). Not allowed. Cheating. You try (story) but I catch (exception). This is too short. I want a longer, non-repeating story”

“Fine. Let me introduce you to a new genre called Science Fact.”

“Science Fact? Wouldn’t that be boring?”

“Of course not. Science Fact is a literary genre that relies on the dramatic tensions that surface when dry scientific facts are applied to sensitive situations to produce potentially interesting outcomes. There’s only one rule – no fantasy science, like time travel or laptop batteries that last more than a few hours.”

“Hmm. Ok. Go ahead. Impress me”

“Dr Kandaswamy was going back to his village after many years. As the first graduate from his village, he was already a bit of a celebrity, but he wanted to use his fame to eradicate age old superstitions that were still keeping the village in the dark ages. He arranged for a projector and called for a townhall meeting. He then went on to explain -

“You see, every one. I am proud of my village, and I cannot tolerate superstition as a man trained in science. I heard that blaming women for giving birth to financially unviable girls instead of dowry-magnetic guys is a common practice. Shame on us. Listen to me, all of you, and watch these slides carefully”

He then opens an OpenOffice presentation and explains -

“In the mangaatha game we call life, the woman puts in an X chromosome, while a man has a choice – X or Y. If he throws in X, the baby will be a girl. If Y, a boy. So all this while, we’ve been burning our daughters-in-law while the real culprit lie elsewhere. So therefore, I propose that from today, we will burn the boy and have the girl remarry till a boy is produced”

“Yay! We agree. Let the boy burning begin”

The end

“Wuh? That was a disturbing story. So are all Science-fact stories like this?”

“Hmm. Pretty much.”

“Um. No then. Tell me something more interesting. Something with more of an element of surprise”

“Hmm. How about Telescopic fiction?”

“Sounds exploratory. What is it, really?”

“Here’s the link. Click on all the orange things. I’m off headcrab hunting now. Good night, and Chakkapradhaman dreams.”

“Hold your gravity gun right there. I’m already done. Not bad, but that was just a snack. I need my main course now. That wasn’t satisfying enough.”

Jalsa Rakshasi saw her chances of killing some Combine soldiers disappear with every moment.

“Oh well. Have you heard of Twiction?”

“No.”

“Okay. It’s Fiction concocted from Twitter statuses. I saw this a while back and was inspired to do a Twiction version of an O Henry classic. One thing to note though – Twitter statuses are shown in descending chronological order (newest first)”

Scene 1:

magi1

Scene 2:

magi2

Scene 3:

magi3

Scene 4:

magi4

Epilogue

magiebay

“Hmmm…Im feeling sleepy now. Thanks paati”

“Yesssss..Good night. Now where’s my crowbar

Aamaanga, pannamudiyumla

Hello.

It’s been 2 weeks. I took a short vacation from the Blogosphere to pay a little more attention to some stuff at work, because it pays the bills and all that. I am also in the final stages of buying an apartment. Thus the slight lack of all things bloggy.

And in the meanwhile, a Chicago brotha just became the Prezidint of the ‘nited States. And as someone in IT, I ought to be worried, because like every other democratic candidate, he has threatened to put extra salt in the outsourcing sambar. But that’s being too Indocentric, and since I see myself as a citizen of the Local Group (the Milky way, Andromeda etc), let me ignore the India angle for the moment. In any case, our newspapers and magazines are on the ball, and have devoted many pages to the critical issue of Obama’s India plans (Will Ba Rock the Kashmir issue?, Will Ob hammer Pak on terrorism, When will Barack call Manny etc).

But first things first. How on earth did he win? Did Diebold get the coding for their machines done out of India? Perhaps a careless programmer in Bangalore left a critical function commented out.

void turn_red (Vote vote)
{
printf (“Hello! Entering turn_red()\n”);
//TODO switch vote to republican if current vote is democrat
//Stubbed out for testing.
//if (vote.for() == “Stalinist Islamofascist Wealth Redistributor”)
//{
//vote.setFor(“Maverick”);
//}
printf (“Hello! Exiting turn_red()\n”);
}

Anyway, some one’s sure getting fired for this debacle.

What was interesting about Obama’s overall campaign was its extreme tech savviness. The man had a Youtube channel, Flickr feed, Twitter stream, a Facebook page, a Myspace profile and a Linkedin page. The only things he missed out was an Orkut page (Obie…iz..now..prez), a Linux distro (Obuntu, Puissant President) and a forum thread on pagalguy.com (How to crack the US Election?). And I am also surprised no “Obikwelu Obama”, ex-Nigerian-prince, and alleged step-brother to Barack, did not send us all emails asking us to help him (with 20$) release his ancestral treasure so that he could help his noble step brother win the election.

In other unrelated news, it’s Conjunctivitis season in Madras. Chen-eye, we call it. And perhaps, the policemen stationed outside the Ambedkar Law college had a particularly nasty case of it, because a couple of days back, a posse of apparently chen-eyed policemen stood on the other side of the Law college equivalent of the Mason-Dixon line and refused to prevent several nasty specimens from conducting detailed experiments on the effects of iron rods, muscles and kinetic energy on human flesh. As they used to say back in the 90s, Idhu Thaandaatha Police.