C a t c h i n g T h e B u t t e r f l y

When was the last time you had a dream filled with roaring mountain winds ? Or filled with mighty forests or with orange seas ? Those were the dreams of my childhood. Where I visited strange places and did mighty adventures. I drove enormous vehicles, sighted curious beasts, I discovered deep secrets. I discovered strange secrets about life.

Those dreams came to me when I was asleep. Those dreams came to me when I was alone. Everything that I saw in the world brought me a dream, along with it. That was the age of impressionability.

Am I losing it ? Now that I am 23.

Am I losing those dreams ?

If that happens, world would become just dry and deterministic. After some time, the sole purpose in life would be to just be alive. Like a piece of moss on a rock.

But in such a situation, can I call myself alive ?

Maybe the last time when you feel dreams is the first time you fall in love. After this, you take leave from that world of dreams. You shut it behind, and later forget that it ever was. Whenever you think about it, you will get scared. So you better fool yourself into believing that it never existed.

However, unfortunately, some people choose to keep this world alive. And they get scared because the dreams would not come to them. I am one of those. Who always try to keep catching those colors. I am one of those who always gonna keep catching the butterfly, in that dream of mine.

In homage to the music of The Verve, I reproduce these lyrics

So you were born
Or so you thought
The future's ours
To keep and hold

A child within
Has healing ways
It sees me through
My darkest days

I'm gonna keep catching that butterfly
In that dream of mine
I'm gonna keep catching that butterfly
In that dream of mine

In my lucid dreams
In my lucid dreams

I'm gonna keep catching that butterfly
In that dream of mine

Keep catching that butterfly
In that dream of mine

In my private dreams
In my private dreams
My lucid dreams
My forgotten schemes

I see through you
You see through me
I see through you
You see through me

To be in your eyes
To be in your eyes

K i n g K o n g M y s t e r y

Well. This is a question mark on the minds of thousands.. err millions .. err zillions of movie-going public.

How could he do it ?

That is Mr. Kong, how could he do it ? You know, it, to Miss Ann Darrow !

The answer, my friends, is in the director's cut which is not yet released !

(The lovely Annie is doing some gymnastics in order to excite Mr. Kong. He is putting on his normal grumpy face. When suddenly Annie stops)

"Oohh Mr. Kong ? What is it ??? Is it your schlong ? "

(The mighty ape grunts softly emitting a very-human-like sound) "Yes"

Annie rolls her eyes and jumps into the mighty palm of Kong in a sexual fever.

"Isn't it beautiful ?"
(From here on, the scene is available in the normal cut of the movie)

Mr. Kong grunts again in a very-human-like sound "Yes"

And then, my dear friend, they both did it :)

Because ...

The mightiest Kong
Has the tiniest schlong !

PS : Ooohh ! I love you Annie !! :)) err.. Naomi Watts.. err.. whatever..

M a s i n a g u d i

Blue valley on my mind. So, this december, I run away from Hyderabad, and escape to the Nigiris. My intent is to sit quite and lay peaceful for a couple of days - amid those green hills and waterfalls. I make a reservation for a single room in a resort, aptly named Blue Valley Resorts. It is a jungle-lodge located in Masinagudi, at the heart of the Mudumalai forest reserve. It is down in the foothills of the Nigiris, 30 km from Ooty, offering spectacular views and temperatures between 14 to 23 degree celcius.

But solitude in a forest lodge turns out to be more than what you have bargained for !


Sipping my tea and lazing on my wicker chair, I gaze at the beckoning mountains. The early morning mist has not cleared off yet, and sprightly waterfalls sparkle up in the heights. I make up my mind. I will go trekking !

But however, I decide to relax for the first day. I enjoy the delicious meals, trot around the minor hillocks and make friends with George, the driver of the company jeep. George, Jungle George.

In the evening, I run into Mr. Joy, the proprieter, a gentleman with a thick Malayali accent. I enquire about the possibilities for trekking in the next day.

"Sure, Mr. Kiran, you have to get up by 6:00 in the morning. You will get a guide and can be back by 8:00 for breakfast"


So I get up in the morning, sip a hot cup of tea and venture into the forest. Keeping me company is Raj, a thin brooding man in his early thirties. He is to be my guide; he doesn't understand Hindi or English. However, he speaks the barebones of the English language - "Come, Back, This way, Elephant, Forest, Bison"

The two pockets of my pants hold a Nikon Coolpix camera and an Apple iPod - both borrowed from my dear friend Sashi. Raj carries a thin bamboo stick - 3 feet long, which will be our only defence against the undergrowth and the wild animals.

A couple of dogs from the village bark at us before being shooed away by this stick.

"Dogs, I am more afraid of them.", I smile. "Not so much of the really wild animals"

Raj smiles.

After a brisk walk for 10 minutes, we find ourselves into the thicket. A couple of langoors are up on the tree-tops but I don't have success in photographing them.

Soon we run into a mountain stream. I cry for help when crossing.

"Jump", Raj gestures at me.

"No, my only shoes." I say pointing at my shoes. "I don't want them to get in water !", pointing to the stream below.

Raj gives me his hand and I get onto the the other side.

Later, I would slip into this stream for atleast 3 times. This particular stream has an important role to play at the end of my narration.


On the way we encounter a huge pile of animal dung. Raj points at this with his stick and says "Elephant. This place full of elephant."

In innocent delight, I snap a picture with my camera. But as I soon find out, these pieces of dung are littered all over the place, some of the traces extremely fresh.

Raj points at a curious piece of mud that is scraped off the ground. "Bison slipped."

At another point, he points to a hole dug into the ground - about 2 feet long. He says "bear".

I am amazed. I take this picture of the ground where a Nilgiri brown-bear has dug up some of his dinner.


But it turns out that these holes too are not uncommon on this territory. To my alarm, I find them everywhere, some of them very fresh !

The undergrowth becomes thicker and more difficult to pass through. But we press ahead. With his stick, Raj bends the shrubbery and moves ahead; with me hastily following him. Sometimes, after the release of his stick, the shrubs bounce back on my face. And with no pleasure, I find that the undergrowth is replete with thorns.


Raj is all ears for the minor sounds that envelop the place. In contrast, all I can hear is one single sound - the sound of the jungle, which is omnipresent. At one point, he gives me a quick alarm "Stop". I freeze into attention.

"Bison... "

I look at him with surprise. I can hear no footsteps of any animal. But suddenly, an enormous bison leaps into the air in front of us. With a thumping trot, it rapidly disappears into the jungle below. Before I can recover from the shock, I see several more bisons running into the thicket below.

"They are all running" Raj chuckles "They running"

I become extremely alert from this point onwards. I listen to a thousand different sounds - all of them alarming. They seem to come from behind me, from the side, from below, from the top.

At one point, I stop.

"Raj, there is a sound"

He looks at me with a smile. "No"

But I can hear a distinct sound, like the grunting of a boar. But he dismisses it away and keeps walking. I would later find out that this sound is that of one bird.

Finally, we scale a minor peak. And from above, I look at the forest warming up to the sun-rays. It is enchanting.


Raj motions to me and says "River. Go ?"

There is a persistent gurgle of the mountain streams but I have no clue of their proximity.

I agree, "Okay." And we reach the edge of a precipice and peak into the river below.


There is a clear track that is visible from our viewpoint - that leads us down to the stream.

"Animals. Drink water" Raj provides the obvious explanation.

We quickly descend down to the stream and take a couple of pictures. I am longing to spend more time but Raj disapproves. I understand - this place stands too open and naked, sandwiched between hills on both sides. Animals are prone to come here for quenching thirst, and not all of them could be friendly.


With regret, we move from this Eden and return into the thicket. The jungle becomes more impassable. At one point, I scream to Raj "Let's go back."

He says "Yes, we go back." but heads in the same direction. I feel we are like two rodents, crawling through the underground sewage. It becomes miserable. Not to make things any nicer, the ground underneath turns slippery and shallow. There is the danger of tripping over something and tumbling into the depths below.

I recollect my schemes about trekking for the entire day - they look so ridiculous now. I am finding no pleasure when thorns and the wet grime rub against my skin. It goes on forever. I look at my watch in exasperation - it is already 9:30.

Finally, we get into some open space and I can feel the rays of the sun.


I suddenly remember something. "Do we have snakes here, Raj ?"

Raj retuns with an expressionless face "snakes ?"

"Yes snakes. Are there any around here ?"

"Many"

And we resume the trek to the ground below.

With an even pace, we descend to the ground. And I can hear the gurgle of the stream that we passed before venturing into the forest.

There, we hear the curious shouting of some animals. "Krrrrr. Phrrrrr. Krrrrr"

Raj tells me with his usual stoic face "Langoors shouting"

"Oh"

"Panther.. or tiger"

I remember reading about this before. Langoors have evolved this communication as a warning mechanism against predators. So the animals of the jungle - deer and bison, listen to these signals for warning.

With silence, we slowly we walk down to the stream. The gravity of the situation does not sink into me immediately.

I find a shrub of memosa. I am tempted to touch these leaves as they slowly curl up inwards. There exists a shrub which looks similar to memosa, but which does not exhibit this property. So I touch my feet onto the leaves as a test. Yes, indeed they curl inwards.

Then I look at Raj. With blank eyes, he says "shhh."

I look around, I see no jungle cat. But the entire place is filled with bushes.


This picture is one which was shot earlier. But it gives a glimpse of what I am seeing at this point. I can feel my camera in my left pocket. But I do not dare to bring it out. My mind is racing. Both of us stand together without any expression.

The langoors continue to shout hysterically. Apart from this and the gurgling of the water, we hear no sound. Never keeping a distance of more than 4 feet between each other, we move ahead slowly.

We know we are being watched. And we know we are being smelt. But from where ? - we do not know.

Panthers do not attack humans usually. And no animal attacks without a reason. If it attacks, it is either for food or for protection. Leapords and panthers are known to take the weakest prey - infants, old people or frail women. The fact that we are two people together - it is our only reason for calm.

Raj crosses the stream slowly and I follow him with my eyes to the back. But he stops in midway "Back. Not here".

We retreat our steps slowly. Raj keeps looking for shrubs, rocks or thicket - potential hiding places for a panther. We walk some 300 feet and venture to cross the stream. Again we stop in midway and retreat.

Now I suddenly see one long tail from a tree top. I freeze to horror. But it is not the panther, it is one of the langoors. They keep chirping hysterically.

Now I start to pray that the panther gets into our sight. The knowledge of us being aware of its presence but not of its position is the scariest part. We advance for several minutes but retreat again.

Several questions come popping up in my mind.

"If the panther rips off one of my legs, what do I do in the future ? Should I continue with my plans for PhD, or should I think of something else ?"

"If my face gets disfigured, or worse if I become handicapped, will I find a girl to get married to me ?"

The question of what happens if I die doesn't come into my head. The answer is simple, no complications.

Then more questions come in. "How long will it take before the lodge sends a rescue party to fetch us ?"

"Would Raj help if the panther chooses to attack me ? Ofcourse, he has a responsibility" I take that for granted.

"What should I do if Raj gets attacked instead ?" At this point, I have to admit honestly. The answer that has come to my mind was not one to help heroically. "I should raise some shouts and run away. Maybe I will throw some rocks at the panther and shout like a maniac. " My mind begins to feel numb.

"Take it", Raj says.

I come back to the reality. He is pointing towards something. I look there with alarm. But I don't see a panther.

"What is it ?"

"The stick". I find a thin bamboo, lying on the rocks. I pick this up as my weapon. This souvenir is still with me.

We cross the stream at 4 more positions but we do not go forward. But eventually, this happens. We reach to an open space. The time shows 10:45.


After I feel we have reached a relatively safe position, I motion to Raj, "Take me a picture"

And I take a picture of his.


I feel the iPod in my right pocket. I plug the phones in and turn the music on.

It is a tune that I know but which I do not recollect. "Motorcycle Driver" by Joe Satriani. This will remain with me to the end of my life.


However the best part of my trip is not this. It is the feeling that stayed throughout. The feeling at night - where I think, where I think about myself. About my weaknesses. About my fears. The feeling of being alone.

O w l (55 words)

"Ouch", Diya screamed. The owl glared at her, camouflaged under the soiled clothes that dotted the place.

"Sorry", smiled Maya, standing beautiful, in violent contrast to her room.

"He is usually harmless, but not today"

"Why ?"

"On the day I have sex here, I keep him starved"

"..Did it ever .. ", Diya stopped wide-eyed, " Bitch !"

W i n d b e n d e r

Upolu Island, Western Samoa

An old withered man is seated on a small wooden platform. A young man stands facing him with his arms folded.

The old man has a striking face. His skin is crumpled into millions of folds and crevices. But out of this sparkled a fountain of warmth and liveliness.

"You are now proficient. My congratulations to you. Not many have passed through this stage."

"Thank you, master."

"Do you remember the most important rule ?"

"Yes master. The rule of Savili, about the wind. Never get in its way."

The young man is now one of the Manalauleo, an ancient clan of wind benders.

The old man continues, "Remember, inspite of all that you have learnt, the key to this art is not the postures of the hand. It is the breath, the Manava."

"Yes master"

"The Manava is the key for Manalauvili " The old man then raises his hand and keeps it on the young man's chest. His shriveled skin trembles.

He feels the breath of the young man.

" No, you will not die." The young man feels a chill running through his spine.

"I trust you have told me nothing but the truth."

The young man is a computer programmer. His name is Carl. He is stationed in Samoa on his work for United Prospects Inc., an insurance company which specializes on natural hazards such as floods and earthquakes. Carl's work there deals with the simulation of storm patterns in the Pacific.

"Yes Master."

He says and bends his knees down till they lie horizontal and facing opposite to each other. "My name is Carl. I have learnt this art for the sole reason of self preservation."

"Good. I shall ask you a final question before you leave."

"Yes master."

"What is your most dangerous enemy ? Is it the rain, is it the earth or is it the wind ?"

"No master. It is none of them. It is the thunderbolt. "

"No son. It is not the thunderbolt. It is none of them." He keeps his shrivelled hand onto the temple of the young man.

"It is you."


37.2 N 95.6 W, Kansas

"Carl... Are you there ? I don't hear you."

"Yeah. I am on the way. I will be home soon."

"Take care. I am worried about you. You are riding right on the edge of the storm. Is your radar alright ? "

"Yeah. Don't worry Jess ! I'll be allright."

The signal gets garbled due to electrical interference.

"Tune for the weather reports. Watch out.."

".. .!@#$!@%^^^^^^^^^^^^^" But the signal deteriorates and finally snaps down.

Jess is a colleague and a friend of Carl's. A meteriologist by profession, he has reason to be doubly anxious about the new hobby of his friend's - storm chasing.

He wished he is accompanying Carl in his pursuit. Weather patterns on the Tornado Alley are his speciality. He would have been a great help for him. Moreover, he is not sure if Carl has understood the nitpicks of operating the radar.

Jess prays his friend keeps sufficiently distant from the eye of the storm.

"Nobody gets to photograph the funnel for the first time. Save your skin or you will not get to make the second attempt".

But, as it happens, Jess possesses a slightly warped picture of reality, dangerously so !

Carl does not possess a radar. Neither does he possess a camera. In fact, he is not traveling by his car. He is riding on a bicycle !

It is extremely dark outside, not withstanding the fact it is just 2:00 in the afternoon. A spiral of dark clouds are circling in the sky with a radius of 20 miles.

Carl leaves his bicycle and starts running into the open. It is a vast meadow of grassland. There are no trees for miles around. There are no signs of human civilization, the last buildings that have been sighted were 15 miles away.

There are no signs of animals or birds either. A cold silence permeates the atmosphere, resembling that of a grand opera hall before a performance. Moles, rabbits and the last of the ground dwellers are now deep inside their burrows, waiting in anticipation.

But there is the presence of something. Something beyond life. Something unearthly. The presence is strong. Something which burns with fire. Something which sounds with the wind. Something which never dies.

Carl rips his shirt open. He takes a curiously shaped white shaft into his hands. It is a long wooden shaft - sparkling white and shaped into a perfect helix, and tapering into the sides. He holds the shaft with both his hands. He closes his eyes and suspends his breath for one long minute. Listening.

There are still no visible signs of the winds. However tiny flakes of grass are suspended in mid air. They wobble randomly due to electrical fields.

Carl opens his eyes and looks into the far beyond. He hears a distinct roar in the distance - the roar of a wild panther.

At that moment, a sudden gust of wind appears out of nowhere. In a rapid motion, it spirals from the distant ground and reaches towards the sky. The storm has now started. Carl then observes it as it slowly crawls towards him.

A bullet of light strikes him on the face. It is a lightning. In a quick motion, he deflects his face sidewards. At the same instant, a monstrous report of thunder occurs. In the midst of its reverberation, Carl hears it again - the distinct growl of a panther.

Pellets of wind dart forward, raising his hair backwards like a wild fire. He moves his muscles in quick response.

An eerie glow of redness now sorrounds the horizon. The storm clouds emerge from this redness and burst forth onto the zenith of the sky.

Carl's ears stand upright, listening to the distant sounds. His eyes are alert, keenly observing changes in the reflection of light. And suddenly, he moves the shaft - bending the wind as it gushes onto him.

"Never get in its way". The voice rings in his ears.

Another thunder. The heavens reverberate monstrously. His eyes suddenly glow in a brilliant blue light.

Black clouds dash violently into the space, their shadows running wildly on the ground. But the windbender moves quickly. The wind leaps behind.

Rain keeps oscillating with the wind and strikes him with a vengeance. But he points the edge of the shaft at this flow, and then splits it. A slow battle then begins, where the eyes have to do the thinking.

He hears the whisper of his master. " Listen to your mind ".

A distinct circle is now visible in the sky. It is a bright moon, but glowing in red, like blood. Sorrounded by pitch dark clouds, it rapidly swirls around him - breathing fire and wind onto him.

" Listen to your mind "

Out of nowhere, he then sees a waterfall. It is an enormous cascade - leaping in front of him. He is standing near the tip of the fall. Deep down in the distance, he faintly hears a sound. The sound of a splash - as the water hits onto the ground. Carl jumps forward.

And he falls.

Gravity suddenly ceases to exert on him. He sees the water leaping towards him, but they both fall down together, into an unending abyss.

Wind continues to ravage him. But his eyes do not have to see and his mind does not have to think. Each fiber of his skin is alive and listening. His shaft does the thinking - and each muscle of his body deflects at its command.

Carl feels a hot breath at the back of his neck. Very closely, he hears the whimpering of a dog. He can feel the hot air from its muzzle. The breath now touches the tips of his earlobes. But he cannot see the dog. He sprains his head sidewards. It is now licking his ears with its tongue. He cannot see it.

But then the waterfall falls over him and envelopes him completely.

It is then that he sees the panther. Through the violent red skies, it is peering down on him - the skull of an enormous panther. The tips of its fangs are touching down his head. And above these fangs, he meets its stare. The cold stare, coming out of its shining eyes.

He is paralyzed by the stare. He cannot see the panther any longer. All he sees are its eyes. They follow him everywhere. And they envelope his own sight. In them, he sees the entire world reflected - in its redness. He cannot see except for this reflection.

He realizes.

The panther is him.

The storm abates.

"No. You will not die." He hears the words. He feels the shrivelled hand of his master on his chest.

The entire area now looks like a landscape from an alien planet. The ground is no longer covered with grass. It is brown in its nakedness. A clear blue sky dazzles above.

And then, he feels the cool breeze, stroking his face gently. Slowly, he hears the noises of birds.

Then he sees a motor car on the road. It is a deep blue colored Sedan. It is Jess.

Jess has tracked Carl to his mobile phone. And noticed with alarm that he was stationed right in the heart of the storm.

Immediately, he has jumped into his car and rushed to the spot. He has tracked Carl's car but he has not found him. He resumed the track of the mobile phone on GPS. And he has finally found it on the side of the road - strapped onto a bicycle. But again, he has found no trace of Carl. He has found no trace of any human being in this area for fifteen miles.

But finally, he finds a shirtless man in the middle of a field. He slows down his car.

The man has a striking face. It is extremely old, and crumpled into a million folds and crevices. But there is a fountain of warmth and light sparkling out of it. More curious than his face is his walking stick. The stick is a white shaft, shaped perfectly like a helix.

"Hey old dad ! Did you spot a young man here around ? His name is Carl. He has been caught up in the storm"

Carl looks at Jess. He smiles.

"No son. I have not found anyone here. No one would have survived in a storm this big. Poor luck !"

C a p i t a l P u n i s h m e n t

The one who cannot give life cannot take it away !

It appeared in today's news that our soon to be Chief Justice of the Supreme Court intends to abolish death penalty. This could be reduced to life imprisonment.

This would be a brave move for India. It shows our respect for the human mind and its ability to learn, to repent and to understand.

I have read recently on Wikipedia that there are two types of societies - the ones which value honor and the ones which value law. As India gets culturally rejuvenated and its populace get educated, we will be moving into the second type of society. It is indeed a welcome move.

But I do not think life imprisonment is a substitute. My views are heavily influenced by Richard Dawkins and his amazing book.

The basic aim of life is to reproduce - to replicate its genes. This explains several phenomenon in nature - including why death in old age is common where as pre-mature death is uncommon. The genes which try to kill the individual before she reproduces will not survive through evolution.

The entire multitude of human emotions can be traced to the principle of replication of genes - to the sexual and parental urges. Some of these emotions are valuable and help produce culture and scientific advancement. Where as, some of these emotions are destructive.

I will narrate you one ignoble incidant that happened in the heart of Andhra Pradesh, the state where I live. It was about an extremely pretty girl who was also a gifted student. She attended a science college in Vijayawada. Unfortunately, one of her classmates who was an insecure loser, was smitten by her beauty. She politely refused his advances. But he continued to pester her and even started to threaten her family. Frightened, she requested for police protection. But this did not help. For in the next day, he walked into the classroom and hacked her with a kitchen knife. He slashed her neck repeatedly, murdering her instantly. This happened in the presence of the entire class and the lecturer. He then walked away and escaped to Tamil Nadu. But ultimately, he was captured by the police.

He was initially given death penalty. But his punishment was later reduced to life imprisonment.

Now consider, what has happened to the girl. She lost her life. Had she lived, she could have discovered several things, possibly contributed to the society and to the advancement of science and culture. How should we punish somebody guilty of murdering her ? Death seems to be the right punishment. But I think it is wrong. Human mind has an amazing ability to learn and to repent. We cannot rule out the possibility that after his service in the prison, he emerges as a good citizen.

But this argument does not tell entirely about the loss that happened to the girl. She not only lost her life but also lost her genes. She had a premature death before she could give birth to children and raise them. She had been denied of the most basic urge of life !

Now if we consider the punishment that was awarded to the murderer, it appears that this basic right of life is still left within him. He can still have sex, bear children and propagate his genes. Do you call this justice ?

I do not believe in the culture of honor - an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. But in this scenario, I think it calls for an amendment in the law. The right punishment, I believe, is to turn him impotent and then imprison him for life.

Doing this, we will be setting the right incentives. Anybody who intends to commit rape and murder on women will have to think about these consequences. The primeval sexual urges that motivate the murderer to commit his crime will be immediately conditioned by his thinking about the consequences. This will prevent violence in a better way than done by death penalty.

K n o w F e a r

It is a question as old as time itself.

What do I know ?

It is futile to search for the answer. But the one who finds the answer is the one who finds enlightenment - the one who knows what he knows and what he does not know.

This question is the root of all wisdom. So the humble always remember that they do not know. Humility is the key to knowledge. But it is not the path to wisdom.

The path lies here. Know fear.

The one who knows fear is the one who knows what he knows.

B e s t O f G D I T 9 9

It is inevitable, perhaps.

Old friends fail to keep in touch.

They don't find anything worth talking about. That's what has happened in our batch. But nevertheleses, it is very sad.

We have formed a mailing list on Yahoo Groups (group by the way, is a word which gives it too much credit) Nothing seems to happen on the list. Technically, a mailing list is for people who have a common agenda and who want to keep update with the latest trends of something. For example, a software library or an event or a research area. But this cannot serve the purpose of keeping old friends in touch !! (See my previous post.)

I have got the idea from a website that has been built by Ravikiran. The website was an archive of bakra emails. We have to have something similar to this, but something which is alive. So I have started Best of GDIT 99. Something which functions as a nostalgia diary. Anytime a person is hit by nostalgia, he can visit this blog, rejoice, and may be even inspired to contribute.

What do old friends have - except for fond memories ? If they cannot remember them, the friendship is as good as dead !

If you are from GDIT99, please become a member of the list. You can contact me, ravikiran, dhol or santhosh (the admins currently) Enjoy the posts ! Also, please post comments. As Rajan says, a blog has limitations in functioning as a medium of conversation. But atleast let's make use of the comments !!

You are also welcome to create new posts. They need not be mind blowing. They can be

• simple memories of funny incidants that happened in the B.Tech days
• funny/bakra emails that you have sent/received
• photographs (I hope that soon there will be a lot of them ! Currently, there are none)
  
• tales of reunions with old friends
• funny incidants that happened to you after you have left IIIT

M a l i s k u

Hi guys
The title is created out of two words - mailing-list and sudoku.

M a l i s k u

Once upon a time, there was a small town with 24 houses where 24 people lived. They were called Alpha, Beta, Gamma, .. Psi, Omega. It was a small town.

They never made any enemies with each other. In fact, they were the best of friends. If anybody had to leave the town on any business, he would get very irritated. He would keep cursing until he got back to the town. He would feel a terrible longing to return to his friends, to party and to rejoice.

They hardly did any work other than partying. They never grew tired out of it - they seemingly had unending appetites for it.

A weird bunch of people, they were. They were totally inseparable. It was hard to talk of anybody without mentioning the entire bunch of 24.

One day, they discovered a new game. It was a pretty fun game. They called it "malisku". They put up a large wall in the centre of the village. Each one of them would then go and paste a paper on the wall - with a sentence written on the paper. They could do it every day. The goal was to make a story on the wall, a story in which each person would contribute.

The tricky part was that they would not meet each other or see each other. They stayed in their houses and stopped seeing anyone else. Life became different, but it was pretty much fun though. They would spend time attending other jobs. Or they would keep thinking about what they would write on the paper. Or they would plainly keep on sleeping.

The people grew accustomed to the wall. They liked it. It was filled up pretty enthusiastically too. An interesting story started to get built up. Sometimes the story had twists and sometimes it had none. But mostly, it went along.

In the paper slips, people soon began to identify the ones written by Epsilon.

They went like this,
"hee hee ha ha haha hahaa",
"heee heee hee hee >:-)",
"ha haha haa hhaa x-)"

One day, somebody pointed out that these messages made no sense. They were not contributing to the story. He said Epsilon should paste meaningful sentences instead. Somebody else said no. He said he liked the messages. These messages added to the humour part of the story, he said. Then life went on as usual with the wall.

But one day, something strange happened.

Delta found a paper slip on the door of his house. He was surprised. It was signed by Gamma. It said "Sigma is dead. I am sure of it. She has not come out of the house for days. I know it is against the rules - but I have been spying on her. She is dead ! "

Then Delta felt sad, he wanted to investigate. But he did not go speak with Gamma. It had been a long time since he did some speaking - he had lost the habit of it. Speaking felt strange. So he posted a paper slip on the house of Gamma. "Let's go find out. Let's tell others too ! "

The next day, there were two paper slips on the houses of Delta and Gamma.

"They were dead ! They were all dead !! I have seen them personally. They are as cold as bones."

"They are dead ! Dont know when they died. I could not move them an inch. They were as dead as stones"

Gamma had found a girl who was sitting on a table, writing something on the paper slip. But she was not a girl, she was a skeleton. The fingers did not move. The body was locked into a stillness when the girl died, when she died trying to write a message.

Delta had found a boy digging into the ground. In fact, the boy had shoveled up 25 feet of the ground. But then he died - standing as cold as a stone, with the shovel in his hand. Delta had found a skeleton holding a shovel.

Gamma had found a boy who was standing in front of a mirror. He had been looking into it continuously, and then he died there. Gamma had found a skeleton looking into the mirror.

But the wall continued to display new messages.

Beta wrote. "They went on a holiday."

Gamma wrote, "They were dead."

Delta wrote, "Yes, They were all dead."

Epsilon wrote, "Hee hee >:-)"

Alpha wrote, "So they moved into a hotel"

Beta wrote, "Was it nice ?"

Alpha wrote, "It was nice"

Epsilon wrote, "Ha ha hahaa"

Gamma wrote,"....."

Delta wrote, "....."

Alpha wrote, "And they moved out of the hotel"

Later that, Gamma and Delta never wrote on the wall. But Alpha and Beta kept on writing. And Epsilon kept on writing too.

But there was something in the town that happened.
They were all dead !

S w o r d S w a l l o w e r s

Telugu people can get some guilty pride from this. Sword swallowing originated in Andhra Pradesh. And yes, these guys really swallow swords !

Would anybody in a really sane mind do it ??? Yes, so it seems, for the sake of entertaining the audience. (IMHO, the answer is NO. You got to be totally insane to do something like this !!)

Here is a huge treasure-chest of information about sword swallowers. Got the link via Régine Debatty - my personal cyber goddess and news agent.

Apart from swallowing swords, Andhrites were reported to perform several freaky-acts. Such as hanging the spinal cord to an iron hook and making repeated dips into the river Krishna (to please Durga in Vijayawada - not more than 150 years ago). Gives me creeps that I was born in this very region !!