“There is a flood alert you know! Looks like the road ahead is under water now. You still want to go that way?” Geeta asked Ishaan.

Ishaan started his motorcycle. “We’d be home before you knew it.”

She put the helmet on and made herself comfortable on the pillion seat. “My dad will kill me if he sees me with you.”

“My mother will kill you if she sees me with you!” Ishaan smiled.

“Same difference.” Geeta laughed.

They took a left turn from the main road.

“A lake? I thought we had a road here.” Ishaan exclaimed. They were riding the machine on a submerged road. It was seven in the evening and there was a slight drizzle. Wherever they saw, they saw only water.

“I’m scared” Geeta clutched his shoulders.

“Me too” He told her.

“Shameless pig. You are NOT supposed to say that. You are supposed to tell me that I shouldn’t worry; that I’d be home before I knew it; blah blah blah.. Yadda Yadda Yadda”

The bike stopped.

“Now what?” she asked him.

“Looks like we gotta walk” Ishaan tried restarting the bike.

“Perfect. What a romantic getaway! Here we are… in the middle of a large lake – with the assumption that there is a road underneath. I can feel it by the way. I love walking any way” Geeta mumbled.

He looked her sympathetically. “Slow down. Slow down. Take it easy. Things happen. This is a challenge and we have to face it. Maybe there is something in it for us”

“In this?” she asked him.

“Yes. Why not? For starters, there is this invaluable concept called – Experience.”

“And?” she probed him.

“Well, who knows? It might be quite useful in future.”

“The experience of walking like this? I don’t think so. I don’t think I am getting into another situation like this ever again. Keep that etched on your mind.”

“Listen” he suddenly stopped walking and stared at the deserted car in front of him. Geeta listened. She could hear nothing but the ripples of water.

“I hear nothing” she whispered.

“Shh” he motioned her to be quiet and gently knocked twice on the window of the car.

For a minute everything was quiet. Then a couple of eyes rose to the window sill and stared at them.

“My God!” Geeta screamed, “There is something in there! Alive!”

The eyes simply stared at them nonchalantly. Life was fast draining out of those eyes. They had to act fast to rescue the dog.

He desperately looked around to see if there was anything he could use to open the car. All he could see was water. It felt as if they were standing right in the middle of an ocean. The thin line separating the road from the lake had long since submerged. Now it was just a plain sheet of water extending to the horizon. It was as deep as fifteen feet at places and as shallow as three inches at others.

“The water level could be rising!” Geeta sounded a word of caution, “Let’s get help!”

Ishaan shook his head. “The puppy won’t hold till then. It is deprived of Oxygen. We got to get him out immediately.”

“Your bike!” Geeta suddenly remembered, “Tool box?”

Ishaan would have hugged her right there if he had time. He just made a mental note of it and waded towards his bike. The spanner greeted him warmly. “Eureka!” he shouted.

“I can’t break the front windshield. I shouldn’t break the rear window either because the puppy might get hurt. I should break open the navigator side window.” He talked to no one in particular. Geeta nodded. She knew Ishaan talked mostly to himself and normally didn’t expect anyone to respond.

He walked slowly to the other side of the car in knee deep water. He paused for a moment when he reached the edge of the car. He didn’t know how deep the water was – in front of him. He didn’t want to take any risks.

“Careful” Geeta shouted.

Ishaan climbed on the bonnet of the car and looked inside. He couldn’t see the puppy. It was pitch dark. He took his chances and hit the window glass with all his might. The glass cracked. It took him nearly five minutes to break open the window.

“Don’t open the door of the car” Geeta cautioned him.

He nodded. It would be like opening the floodgates of a dam. If the puppy was on the floor of the car, the force of water could hurt it.

Methodically he removed all the protruding spikes of glass from the window and called out – “Hi” unsure of whether the dog had been conditioned to respond to such calls.

It didn’t.

“Tommy!” he tried various names. There was no response. He took his mobile phone out and switched on the light. It didn’t help much. He could see that the seats were empty. The light could not illuminate the floor of the car.

“I am going in” he declared.

Geeta gasped. “NO! Too dangerous. There may be a flash flood. See the water level is rising. Let us get out of here. It is too risky Ishaan. Let us go!”

He shook his head. “I can’t let it die here.”

“And I can’t let you die here.” Geeta was furious, “Get moving. Remember! It will be really difficult for me to cross this wretched stretch alone!”

He stared at her, “That is what it is all about, huh? You’re worrying about crossing it alone!”

She smiled, “At the grassroots level, everyone is selfish.”

He examined the window, the horizon and his girlfriend, “Sigmund Freud?”

“What?”

“I mean, have you been reading Freud these days?”

“Yes I am. But that is not the point. And you have just wasted a couple of minutes. The flash flood is nearer now than it was earlier – if at all there is one!” Geeta firmly told him.

He didn’t reply. He knew Geeta would kill him if he didn’t save the puppy. All this talk was for the sake of talking. She knew he wouldn’t let go of the puppy. She didn’t want him to either.

The drizzle intensified into a steady downpour.

“What if it bit me? I am sure it is under severe psychological stress” Ishaan again talked to himself.

“The latest Rabies injection has only one dose. Don’t worry about it. My father will administer it free of cost for you!” She clarified an important fact to Ishaan.

He took a deep breath and squeezed into the car. “Ouch. Shucks man!” He examined his leg. It was a deep cut. Blood was gushing out.

He wasted no time and quickly located the terrified puppy in a corner. It was just days old. Whoever left it there, he could skin them alive.

There was a big roar. “Ishaan”, Geeta cried! He looked back at the horizon. There was a sheet of water coming towards the car.

“Get out of here, NOW” He shouted.

Geeta froze. She was not sure where to go. She had to take a split-second decision.

Ishaan kicked open the door on the other side and swam across the incoming water. In a minute he was outside the car with Geeta.

The wall of water was very close. They didn’t have enough time to escape.

“Climb up the car and hold on to the luggage rack” he shouted.

It hit them with a feverous intensity. They could not withstand the force and were swept off the car. Ishaan gripped the rack as hard as he could and prayed God. He could not breathe.

“Geeta, can you marry me?” He asked her sipping a hot cup of black coffee. The suddenness of the proposal almost threw her off the chair. When she recovered she told him “I can. But will I or will I not is the question.”

It was water all around him. His chest became heavy.

“Stop preaching me English lessons yaar. I am serious. Will you marry me?” He asked again. She bit her lip and told him in no nonsense terms – “Sure”.

He was losing consciousness and continued to swing alternatively between reality and forced introspection of his life thus far.

“Wow! She is cute.” He exclaimed when he saw her at the CoffeeDay outlet. “That is right” agreed Shyam.
“I want to talk to her.” Ishaan declared and boldly made his first move. “Hi, can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

He was desperate for oxygen. He gulped down some water involuntarily.

“Look there is a snake here” Ishaan was thrilled. The snake was not. It just grazed away. He chased it but couldn’t catch it. He was caught by his mother though. A very intense round of spanking followed. He swore he would never again chase anything in his life… a rule he did not break until he ran into Geeta, and the run morphed into a mighty chase to ensure they walked together for the rest of their lives.

There was a light; quite bright it was. More like a halo and it was growing – all pervading – engulfing Ishaan. He was beginning to enjoy it…

He looked in complete disbelief at his score card. His was the worst performance in the class. At this rate, he would not be considered for any of the campus interviews. He went to his room, locked himself up and cried the whole afternoon.

The light suddenly shrank. Then there was a sudden rush of air into his lungs. He couldn’t believe it. He could breathe again. He regained consciousness and lunged for more air as his head emerged from the water.

He opened his eyes and looked around. The water level had risen by a foot. His bike was nowhere to be seen. He looked up at Almighty and offered a prayer to him. He was given a preview of death.

And then he remembered.

“Geeta!” the sheer intensity of that shout could have killed his ailing lungs. He didn’t care. “Geeta” he shouted again.

Water replied with its characteristic ripple – very innocent, gentle and breezy.

“What happened to the puppy?” Dr. Mehta asked Ishaan.

“No idea. I remembered about the puppy only after being rescued from the flood. By then, it was not in my hands. Guess they both are together!” Ishaan replied calmly.

“It’s been almost a year, Ishaan. You need to move on.”

Ishaan looked at the doctor. He could see that the doctor’s eyes were moist. They stared at each other for some time. There was no reason to prolong the conversation. It was a tragedy they had to cope with. One lost his girlfriend and the other, his daughter.

They met on the same day every month; had the same conversation and had tea together.

“Thanks for the tea, Sir” Ishaan told the doctor and traced his steps back home. The road was silent and calm. The horizon was clear. He stopped for a moment. Nine months ago, it was on the same spot that he lost the most precious thing of his life – his life.

The End.

These days the genre itself is dying but Adventure Games were ruling the cyberspace ten years ago. People who are into AG cannot feign ignorance about the baap of all such games - Sierra's King's Quest series.

I grew up on a staple diet of KQ - It has become an integral part of my life - KQ 1 to KQ 8. And then the series died!! (KQ 8 was nothing to write home about. It was the weakest link of the series IMO)

KQ fans all over the world rejoiced when some hardcore fans came up with a KQ 9 game. (This was not an official sequel.) However Vivendi, who bought the rights of KQ series from Sierra - slapped a legal notice on the developers of KQ 9 and they promptly obliged by shelving the project.

This was a huge huge huge disappointment to KQ fans. Moreso because neither Vivendi nor Sierra has any plans of continuing the KQ series. They could have let the unofficial KQ 9 as it is.. or accord it the official status. But no! They decided to bury the project instead.

I sincerely believe it is a temporary setback for KQ 9. I am pretty confident that the same game would undergo minor changes and see that light of day - as perhaps Rozella's Quest (Notice the Z - Copyright issues with "S")

Anyways, if you are a KQ buff and if you hated the very old EGA interfaces of KQ2 to 4, (KQ1 was later remade as a VGA game) smile! Anonymous Game Developers Interactive (AGDInteractive.com) has rewritten KQ2 and released the VGA version in 2002. (I caught it on the net only yesterday!) This version uses the KQ5 Mouse interface instead of the KQ Text Entry interface and is full of lovely music and takes place in a painstakingly developed world of Koeyna. It has an expanded storyline and 85% of the puzzles are either new or radically restructured.

This game is also not an official remake of KQ2 and they aptly call it a Tribute to KQ2 - because that is exactly what it is. The entire game is about 120MB in size. (46 MB game + Music pack + Voice pack).

It can keep you glued to your outdated PC for days if not weeks. (It is a very primitive game in terms of graphics. So even your 486 - if you have one - can run this game very well.)

I just wonder - Why Vivendi didn't bring this site down!! Vivendi has plans of offering a Collectors Edition of all King's Quest games on Amazon. Wonder who will buy KQ2 original when KQ2VGA is available free on the net.

Hoping that KQ 9 will pass all these hurdles and land up in my PC one fine day.

Till then! O King Graham, thou shalt be a little more careful!

Once upon a time in a South Indian city called Chennai, there lived a young man called Raghav. He was a software engineer in one of the country’s blue-chip IT companies. He was twenty four years old when this story started.

He was a confused soul. He didn’t know why people spent so much time socializing instead of working for the betterment of the economy. He read Robin Sharma’s Monk Who Sold His Ferrari and wondered what it was all about. He knew there was something really deep in that book. He just couldn’t find out what it was.

This was a day after he wondered why people talked excitedly about chickens crossing the road.

He refused to go along with such age-old clichés. He wanted to know what was so neat about saying “So why did the chicken cross the road?” when actually a simple, “I don’t know the answer” would have sufficed.

Such a person as Raghav cannot mingle with the society - Proclaims a great man who is also the author of this story. So Raghav gets hit by a speeding truck one fine November morning. Apparently he was following a chicken on its journey to the other side of the road when the accident happened.

There were a couple of broken bones and a mild clot in the brain but doctors asserted that Raghav should not have any long term health issue. Bed rest of three months was advised. He had to avail leave on loss of pay condition.

It was probably the clot in his brain which made him forget whether he had a life ambition or not. He fought hard with the clot and tried to recollect the finer aspects of his ten year and twenty year goals which he supposedly discussed with his project manager a day before he followed the chicken.

The clot won the battle.

Raghav did not give up. He took a marker and wrote in big black letters that his life ambition was yet to be found and that he would strive towards finalizing it as early as the following weekend.

And then he forgot where he had written all that. He searched all the rooms and could not find what he had written. Gradually he forgot all about that. His ambition to find his life ambition was forgotten.

Then he saw the chicken.

It was the same chicken which crossed the road the other day. It survived the accident and helped Raghav win the battle of wits with the clot. The past came back to him haunting.

He sprang to his feet, outran the chicken and sprinted to his office.

“I found out my life goal” He declared proudly to his manager who was munching a chicken Sub piece-fully.

“Good for you,” the manager told him.

“I am going to work not for money but for answering the inner voice. Am I right?” Raghav asked him

“Yes. That’s what you told me.” His manager confirmed.

Raghav then quit his job on the spot. He was a free bird. He could do whatever he wanted. He could sit in front of the TV and listen to what his inner voice had to say – all through the day.

So he asked his friends, relatives and countrymen not to disturb him for a week. He wanted to be left alone. He bought the poster of Om and stared at it all day hoping his inner voice would rise to the occasion and guide him accordingly.

It didn’t.

He tried meditating and concentrating on the sacred symbol. It was of no use. The inner voice simply didn’t respond. He could not invoke it.

Raghav panicked at the end of the fifth day. What if his inner voice never talked again? What would he do? He had resigned from his job to follow his life’s calling. What if he could not find out what it was?

On the sixth day of his downright seclusion from the material world, he heard his calling – the voice was clear and the message was simple but powerful. He closed his eyes and saw what the future had in store for him. He saw himself chasing the chicken to the correct side of the road and then tying it up so that it would never again try to cross the road.

He heard the voice. It was his own voice. It reverberated through his body and made sure that Raghav absorbed everything.

It told him to

1. Join the organization again as a software engineer.
2. Never again chase chickens or butterflies.
3. Never again read books written by people who sold their Ferraris or talked about phone calls from God.
4. Never again wait for the inner voice to guide him.

Raghav was a transformed man. He loved the message. He went back to his manager and requested him to take him back. His manager asked him three questions.

“Are you done with your inner voice thingy?”

Yes.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t want to talkback to the source of that voice ever again?”

Yes.

“What is your ten-year goal now?”

To become a successful Group Project Manager and aid this organization in achieving its goals and objectives – and at the same time improve my interpersonal and networking skills.

“Good! Welcome back Mr. Raghav.”

So Raghav went back to being a nameless software engineer. He was no more confused. He was pretty clear about what he wanted. He didn’t want the chicken to cross the road at all. He was fine having it on his side of the road – for an eternity – forever – till he ceased to exist as a material human being.

The End.

Aditya Hrudayam

I hesitated before going in.

The fact that I would be seeing a dead body inside was, to say the least, scary. I still couldn’t come to terms with it. I didn’t feel sad when I heard the news. I was shocked. Probably it would take a day or two for the feeling to finally sink in.

The first time I met Aditya Balasubramaniam, he did not impress me at all. He was dressed in a navy blue outfit and had a burning cigarette in his hand. His beard was unkempt and his eyes were drifting constantly.

He looked as if he had just finished his dose of Ecstasy.

When he rattled off a couple of Shakespearean verses within the first two minutes of our meeting, my suspicions were on the verge of getting confirmed.

He smiled then and told me warmly – “Don’t mind my Show Off attitude. It comes to me naturally. And I am not drunk by the way.” I managed to catch a fleeting glimpse of his eyes. They were quite deep.

I looked up. It was a long corridor leading to a slightly ajar wooden door.

Aditya’s uncle was standing in the corridor with a cigarette in his hand. His eyes told it all… the pain, the frustration, the confusion and the shock. So much was communicated just by one glance. I was silent. He motioned me to go inside. I didn’t have the courage to do so.

“You want to step inside?” Aditya asked me pointing to the dance floor on the left side.

I shook my head.

He nodded, “I don’t like it either. Too much of chaos. I like to see some form and rhythm wherever I go.”

I took another careful look at this shabby gentleman who wanted form and rhythm wherever he went.

He broke into a hysterical laughter. “I knew it. I knew you’d react this way. Come on! I hate Form. I hate Rhythm. I hate Order.”

I decided to ignore him and look at the VH1 telecast.

A loud wail from behind that wooden door startled me. Probably his mother. I stopped at Aditya’s uncle. I didn’t know what to say. These were difficult situations. I had never been a great consoler. What to say? More importantly: What not to say??

“Say something, anything! Just don’t stare at the mindless garbage coming on the idiot box.” Aditya had a quirky little smile on his face.

“Are you drunk?” I asked him directly.

He was surprised. Then he was amused. Then he clasped his hands and told me that drinking was the worst thing happened to humanity.

And then, he stopped his humane lecture to take a deep puff.

I switched off the television and went to the balcony to catch some fresh air.

The wailing stopped and there was a deadly silence which was worse. I could not make up my mind to enter the house. Till now, I had heard of the news but once I entered the door in front of me, it would be a fact. A fact I had to live with for the rest of my life.

“Who cares about the rest of this life? I live on a day to day basis. The only word I hate in English language is Tomorrow.”

He paused there and thought a little about his statement. Then he hastily added, “And the day after tomorrow too… But it is not a word you see. You get the idea, right?”

I didn’t get the idea. I didn’t care either. He was an interesting person but I could frankly do without his sermon on how life had to be lived especially if it was inspired by a Chiranjeevi movie that he had seen earlier.

“Don’t say you don’t like him. He is God. His portrayal of a mad man in that flopped movie of his – really authentic and touching.”

That was why I liked him. He wouldn’t think twice before talking something really stupid. There was no disconnect between his thought process and his words. They were perfectly synchronized. He spoke his mind out.

The door opened suddenly and Anjali stepped out. I stared at her not knowing what to say. She motioned me to go inside. I had no choice now. I had to enter the house. I had to face the reality. My legs were shaking and my breathing was shallow. I couldn’t move at all. Anjali held my hand and took me inside.

He was on the bed staring at the ceiling with a puzzled expression on his face. Then he asked me seriously, “Do you know why these lamps are always near the ceiling of a room?”

“So that they could cover the entire room?” I asked him fully knowing he cared a hoot about such logical answers.

“Maybe! I don’t know. I thought it would be cool to say – because they are light!” He was laughing like a mad man and eventually managed to trip off the bed.

I smiled to acknowledge the poor joke which I might have heard at least a hundred times before.

There were many people inside, most of them in shock – silent and confused. His mother was completely disoriented and was staring at him.

Then I saw Aditya Balasubramaniam.

He could easily pass off as a peacefully sleeping young man if the bandage which wrapped up most of head was ignored.

“What is death but a discontinuation of life!” He told me seriously.

I laughed, “And what is 2 plus 2 but 4!”

He frowned at me, “You are making fun of the startling discovery I’ve just made. Life as such has no meaning without death at the climax.”

I didn’t understand it.

“You don’t know the value of life if there is no death.”

I shrugged and concentrated on Harry Potter in Pogo.

Then it hit me. It hit me hard. I could no longer deny it. Aditya Balasubramaniam was history. He would no longer talk about life or death. He would no longer crack wise jokes. There wouldn’t be any unbelievable philosophical interpretations of everyday affairs.

He was gone. Simply. Just like that.

I kneeled in front of him, tears rolling down my cheeks. I had to say it for I waited too long. It might have no meaning at all now. I knew it was going to be futile. I knew I should have told him before. I knew I would never be able to forgive myself.

I didn’t know whether I could say it there but I didn’t care. I was losing control. The image of him was blurred and the world was swinging from one extreme to the other.

I held his hand and whispered – “I love you Aditya. I love you very much.”

The End

Rewind

She stopped in front of the neem tree to catch some breath. It was not daybreak yet. The cool breeze was refreshing. The mud track from the main road was absolutely deserted. She gulped down some water and switched on the FM radio. Some old Tamil song was on air. She closed her eyes and let the breeze enter her soul. It was a divine experience.

Five minutes later, she started jogging again - away from the main road towards the dense woods. She was not worried about her safety. She just wanted to get away from orderliness and follow her instincts. She would deal with the situations as and when they arose.

Nitya, twenty five - a software professional in one of the countless software firms of India had two goals. The first was to become a software engineer. The second was to get out of the software career. She could easily attain the first one. The crazy deadlines, unreasonable work demands, politics and messy lifestyle made her insomniac. She just couldn't sleep. And she refused to submit herself to sleeping tablets. She would dictate her body. It shouldn't dictate her.

She wouldn't think about her health. She wanted to live life the way she wanted - the way she enjoyed. Death was not in her control and tomorrow may not even be written in her destiny. Hence she wouldn't worry about it.

Her first goal was a colossal miscalculation. She did not want to get bogged down by the requirements of this profession. She wanted to quit it and be a free bird. The second goal was not that easy because her family was dependent on her.

The night was tranquil. Only her footsteps were heard. It was music to her ears. She loved such nocturnal experiences.

"Are you crazy?"

She stopped instantly. The voice was that of a kid. Maybe five or six years old.

The girl was looking at Nitya curiously. Dressed in a white frock she was leaning against a tree fifteen yards from there.

Nitya checked her watch. It was four fifteen in the morning and she was at least four kilometers from the main road. As far as she knew there were no villages in the vicinity.

The girl was well dressed and polished. She spoke English. And she was calm.

Nitya clutched the pepper spray tightly and walked slowly towards the girl. "Hi, what are you doing here?"

The girl didn't reply. She just stared at Nitya.

"Where is your house?" Nitya asked her again.

"Up there" the girl showed the stars. Nitya nodded. "Well, long way back home!"

"For you, yes. For me it is just a thought away." The girl spoke serenely.

Nitya didn't want to prolong the conversation. "Goodbye then." She started jogging.

There was no response.

Nitya did not think much about this incident. She had accepted that life was full of uncertainties. People encountered mysteries at every corner. They remained mysteries or dried up like mirages. Most of them did not affect the flow of life. They were merely incidents. They did not influence anything. Nitya had learnt over the years to ignore such incidents.

She had always been a loner. She had a shell protecting her from people. She wanted to be a part of the nature. She wanted to blend with it. She didn't like humanity because human beings tried to take control of nature.

The forest was terrifying. The animals did not disturb her because she did not venture into their marked territories. She respected them. They understood her. The barrier separating human beings from the wonder of Mother Nature simply disappeared in her case.

"You think so?"

The girl was smiling. She was riding a buffalo.

Nitya stared at her.

"You are confused?" The girl jumped off the buffalo and went on to climb a tree.

Nitya nodded.

"Why?" the girl wanted to know.

"Why not?" Nitya asked her.

"You are Nature! You should know what is going on here." The girl kept on climbing the tree.

Nitya followed the girl with her eyes. When the girl disappeared into the unknown world behind the leaves, Nitya decided to resume her journey.

Since a kid, Nitya had always been talking to Nature. She would talk to the bushes. She would laugh with the lilies. She would dance with the sunflowers and deal with the bison. She had an uncanny knack of establishing a communication channel with her eyes. The animals, plants and inanimate rocks listened to her - followed her and helped her.

Her father was a clerk in one of the nationalized banks of the country and had to work mostly in villages. She loved that atmosphere. She played in the forest - with the animals and got along really well with Nature. She was just like the little girl she had just met.

Nitya stopped in her tracks and stared at the little girl.

The girl laughed, "Now you know! Close your eyes."

Nitya closed her eyes. It was a picture perfect Moon enhanced by a serene night. She could see everything beneath her clearly in moonlight. She could catch the expressions on the woman's face. She was tired but inspired. She was lost in her thoughts. It was as if she were sleeping.

Nitya could almost see the curvature of Earth from there. However her thoughts were fixated on the woman below. She remembered a lot of things. They were vague. She could remember jogging. She could remember growing up. She could remember her future.

Nitya climbed down from the tree and faced the woman. "What is this?"

The woman opened her eyes and smiled, "Future."

Nitya didn't understand, "What happened to me?"

The woman drank the remaining water and started jogging, "You have a chance to correct your mistakes now. Chase your dreams."

Nitya stood rooted there. Her memories were fast receding. Her job, her graduation, her love failure, her goals - all felt like they were part of a distant dream. The incidents had slowly been wiped off her memory but the knowledge imparted stayed on.

Nitya ran back from the fields excitedly to tell her mother off the strange meeting with a jogging lady.

The End.