We Shall Rise

Rise my friends...Rise to the cause...
Like we know not of any pause
The shadow of injustice hides us
From what we are, what we may be
It tries to fall upon us, forming, what we may call,
The cracks to our own crystals.

Fly my friend...fly away...
Don't let desire take over necessity.
Pay no heed to what the heroes say...
Remember, it's not their destiny.
The spikes of insult will pierce through,
But no we won't give up, so go on, be cruel.

Wings of ashes, of the last phoenix will live on.
For we'll forward the urn until a new dawn
The Dawn which will see us dying in the fight.
But we shall not die; we will stand up brave like Knights
The sword will be red with victory
So come my friends... let's join hands to make history...

So, Rise my friends...Rise to the cause...
Ride past barriers on Revolution's Horse.
Snap through wires and pull down walls
Watch out people, we won't accept Earth's fall
We shall rise, my friends...from guitars to harps...
Music shall accompany us to our cenotaphs...  
                                                       
---Arka Prabha Paul

Lucky Chap

“One more peg of Daniels, please”, sighed Dr. Jones to the bartender. The former sunk his face in the cup of his hands, and ran them through his unkempt hair, “Why me, O Lord… why me? How could she do this to me? I can’t take this anymore… I don’t want to live anymore! Just snatch my soul away from by body, O Almighty as you claim to be.” The bartender threw a disgusted look at Jones. “There you go, another one of those drama queens. Well at least they’re good customers”, the bartender thought to himself. It was ten in the night and it was raining cats and dogs. A stray cat tried to get a shelter beneath a wet old newspaper, with its eyes glued to the blinking neon of “Rob’s Pub”, on the other side of the street, blurred by the droplets of despair from the heavens above. Soon enough, people started flooding in, mostly due to the rain. I mean, how often do you get a nice excuse to grab a drink and forget about your bossy wife and your annoying children? “Honey, were you out drinking again?” “No dear! It was raining real hard and I needed a shelter so I walked into the bar next to where I was standing or I would have been drenched, and caught a cold. That would mean you’d have to take extra care of me. Now I can’t just sit there and not order a drink, can I? Besides, I was cold, I needed a drink to warm up…” , and the excuses keep going with occasional flattery. But our protagonist, Dr. Jones, did not have to worry about his wife and children. Not anymore. Lucky chap.

Dr. Rudolf Jones passed his doctorate five years ago, two years after which he got married to Lucile, his childhood sweetheart. When I met Lucile the first time, I kind of fell in love with her myself. She looked like an angel without wings delivered straight from the heavens. Her big black eyes were more expressive than a Salvador Dali painting. The pink flush on her cheeks would remind you of an image of a dawn where the sun melts into the orange skyline. Her lips were as bright as lucid pink rose petals. Her hair, like the waves of a sea during a tide. Overall, she was a complete work of art. Jones always had his luck favouring him. Good job, better girl and an even better ride! I so hated it when he flaunted his brand new Jag, “Check out it’s all new 5-speed triptronic transmission dial. And the leather seats are just yum. Don’t forget to check out the monstrous V8 bringing this baby to life…”, and so on. Honestly, I was jealous of him, even though we are like the best of friends since college days. Lucky chap.

It was nine thirty-five, and I was getting back from work when my beeper came to life, “Meet me at Rob’s. 10pm. Urgent. –Rudy.” I was too tired to beep back, so I just took a U-turn and drove back to take the West street towards Rob’s pub. Something had to terribly go wrong when Jones’ messages contain “Urgent.” When I walked in Rob’s I saw that poor thing ordering yet another peg of whiskey. I walk over to him, just to hear him whine, while the bartender threw disgusted looks at him. Then I called out, “Hey Rudy! I’m here now. What’s wrong, pal?” Then he turned around and looked at me. I wish he never did. He looked like he hadn’t taken a bath in years, his shirt all crumpled and wet from the drink he spilled, his hair all messy and obviously you would need a lawn mower to shave his beard by now. A perfect disaster. “What is it, buddy?” I asked Jones. Dr. Jones sobbed, “Ran out of money. Care paying for the drinks?” “Erm.. yeah sure, why not?” I replied, reluctantly. “Thanks man, you’re the best”, he smirked. He always had me, that jerk. Now he doesn’t even have to pay for his drinks. Lucky chap.

He started, “It’s about Lucile.”
“Tell me about it.”
“No, YOU tell me about it.”
“What? Me? Why? Huh? You called me in here… wait WHAT? ME? WHY?”
“Well you should know better.”
“Dude, look, you’re totally high. Let’s just go home and…”
“Don’t change the topic man, don’t you DARE change the topic. All these years I thought you were my best friend and now you betray me?”
“What? I didn’t do anything. What in heaven’s sake are you talking about, Rudy?”
“Lucile. You stole her away from me.”
“Who, ME?”
“Yes, she deserted me, and she took her Jag…”
“Wait a minute, the Jag was hers? Why you double-crosser, you said it was…”
“NOT THE POINT RIGHT NOW, OKAY?”
“Yeah yeah okay… so she ran away, why does that have to be my fault?”
“Because, she left this on the telephone table, that no-good…”
“Now now, calm down. Let me see that.”
Jones handed a note over to me. Damn that girl can write a lot. I read it out aloud, skipping unimportant lines in between,

“DEAREST RUDY,
WITH THE DEEPEST REGRET, I…. Uhmm…. Hmm… I DO LOVE YOU, I REALLY DO, BUT…. Mmm,… uh-huh…. Uhmm… YOU NEED TO UNDERSTAND… okay…. Mmm…. YOU NEED TO GROW UP… YOU ARE INCORRIGIBLE…. MEAN… oh my gosh… YOU SICK… oh no, I misread that… YOU SUCK… YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE WEPT WITH YOUR P.A…. wait, wept? Oh, I misread that too… blah blah blah,… YOUR FRIEND, CHRIS (OMG that’s me!) ON THE OTHER HAND….. okay this isn’t all that important (NOT)…. HE’S CUTE… AND HUMBLE… (cough cough)… AND YOU SHOULD LEARN FROM HIM… blah blah, yappity yap…. AND I’M TAKING THE JAG WITH ME (score!)… I LOVE CHRIS (CPR CPR, I’m running out of breath!) … I’M SO SORRY, ALTHOUGH YOU SHOULD BE THE ONE TO APOLOGIZE…. WITH LOVE, LUCILE….”

Couple of minutes of silence and a tension between the two of us made me feel a little sick. Or maybe it was the whiskey. “Dude, your P.A.?” I didn’t know what else to say. “Man, who doesn’t?” he replied. Suddenly I realized I was a loser. Not him. Me. That lucky chap. Oh no! Wait a second, I’m not the loser, now, am I? It’s me this time. Lucky chap.

Three years later…

“Chris, dear?”
“Yes, Lucile.”
“Are you occupied?”
“Oh yes, I’m really busy watching this amazing game of football.”
“Oh, good. Would like some pop-corn and beer to go with that?”
“Oh, Lucile… you’re such a nice…”
“UP! GET UP NOW! HERE I AM WORKING ALL DAY LONG, AND ONCE YOU GET A DAY OFF, YOU SIT AND RELAX???”
“Well, that was the purpose of a day off, you know…”
“SHUT YOUR BIG MOUTH, TURN OFF THAT TELEVISION AND HELP ME DO THE LAUNDRY. AFTER THAT’S OVER, GET THE MAIL AND MAKE SURE YOU WASH MY JAGUAR. AND THE COUCH WON’T MOW THE LAWN SO GET OFF IT AND GET OUT THERE!!!”
“Yes, Lucile. I’ll just get the mail first and then… erm… Lucile, can you write it down… no? Hey I was just kidding, I remember… (now what was I supposed to wash, the car or the couch?)…”
I stepped out, lazily walked to the mailbox, gathered the bundle of envelopes, and walked back. Then I suddenly noticed this envelope which read, “Dr. Rudolf Jones…” I tore the envelope in an instant and started reading it. Unlike Lucile’s, Jones’ letters are always subtle and meaningful. It simply read,

“Hey Chris,
How’s it going, pal? I moved to L.A. a year back. Should have informed you back then. Getting married to my P.A., want you to attend it. Will personally come over to invite you, buddy. Oh! I also got myself my own Bentley. Check it out on Flickr. Loving my life. I’m glad Lucile got married to you. She wasn’t my type anyway. I’m so happy for you, man. Good luck with Lucile. See you soon.
Your bestie,
Rudy.”

I stood there, staring at that letter for a couple of minutes. Then I looked outside at the Jag. Then I turned towards the kitchen. There she was, Lucile. The work of art. Lucile looked back. Correction, glared back. I looked at the torn envelope. Dr. Rudolf Jones. Lucky chap.

-Arka Prabha Paul

Humpty Dumpty Sat on a Wall

West Berlin, November 9th, 1989: The brightest of Thursday mornings spread out its wings of light over the city of West Berlin. Humpty Dumpty, jobless as usual, loafed around with his big brother, Empty Dumpty.
Empty was kind of a bully as he always threatened to crack his little brother’s skull or make an omelette out of him; but no less was our little Humpty. “You poach me, I fry you”, would be his usual reply to the rooster. Anyhow, both got along pretty well.
It was nine in the morning, and Humpty was already tired. He looked around and saw a big wall with graffiti all over it, across the road. “I need to take a break, brother. Let’s sit on that wall over there, across the street” said little Humpty. “No way am I crossing that… you know the rumours about how chickens can’t cross roads, right?”, replied Empty. “Aye, your wish! I can’t risk getting all scrambled inside. I need to rest” , said Humpty while he crossed the road, ran past Checkpoint Charlie, and quickly sat on the Berlin Wall. Peace at last. Or so he believed.
Humpty’s move towards the Wall did not go unnoticed to Checkpoint C. They immediately informed a sniper at an observation tower close by, that an East German egg is trying to escape. “So he thinks he can just climb and alert the East Germans to save him? Very very foolish, my friend”, said the sniper who aimed straight at Humpty’s head.
Somewhere in Friedrichstadt, Mrs. Dumpty’s heart thumped faster, as she heard the bang of a gun and saw a bunch of crows diverging into infinity. “When will these stupid East Germans stop trying?”, she exclaimed. Little did she know.
People started gathering on both sides of the wall to see the egg dead with its broken shell and yolk split over both sides of the wall. Humpty’s friends quickly recognized him and started protesting against such an act of violence towards a West German. The people on the east part of Berlin screamed out, “Murderers, you West Germans! You kill your own men!” The West Germans realized it was true! They started shouting out, “Tyranny! Down with the Government! No more deaths! Down with the wall!”
The protests alerted the Governments on both sides. They sent in their infantries, with a leader to solve the matter and try to get Humpty Dumpty back to life. They tried putting him back together, maybe that would silence the raging protesters. But at the end of the day, all was in vain! Violence spread out all over the city on both sides with protesters breaking down shops and houses, crying out for justice. “Justice to Humpty Dumpty! Justice to Germany! Down with the wall or down with the Government!”
With the issue this serious, leaders from both sides got together for an emergency meet. After hours of discussion, they pronounced the Berlin Wall to be taken down as West Germany and East Germany would officially become one whole Germany as it was before 1961. That was all that the ‘Germans’ needed to hear. Millions of people gathered on both sides of the wall and waited for the signal. At once they start to break through the wall by any means necessary. After hours of struggle, the Berlin Wall was finally brought down.
The next evening, the Germans lit candles in the memory of Humpty Dumpty, the Martyr. Half of Berlin attended his funeral. His tombstone read,
“Humpty Dumpty sat on The Wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great Fall.
All the King’s horses and all the King’s men,
Couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty together again;
But Humpty Dumpty, the true German,
Brought us all together again.
R.I.P.
(1810-1989)”
-Arka Prabha Paul

Happy Birthday, Andy.

The bell rang. And there was a stampede. A stampede, as hundreds of young children rushed out of the school as it gave over for the summer vacations. Andy was particularly excited. It was his birthday! As he walked down the street to his house, he waved back at his friends, and kept wondering what his family might be up to. One thing’s for sure… it will be a Surprise.
The twelve year old walked up to the front door and rang the bell. No reply. He was going to ring it again, when he stopped himself and wondered, “Ah! Who’s in for a surprise? Not me, no!” He giggled. Then he crept along the wall, keeping a low profile, until he safely reached the back door. “Ah-ha! Guess who kept this open! “ exclaimed Andy as if he just won a bet. He slithered down the kitchen and made it to the drawing room when…
…” OMG! This is amazing! Loads of balloons, cake and hell lotta presents.” Was the obvious expression of a bubbling Andy. “That’s it, no more Mr. Spy… and no more Surprises, I guess”, grinned the Surprise-loving twelve year old. He stood up and screamed out loud, “Hey, mom, dad, sis, I gotchya red handed… you can come out now… thanks a lot you guys, I love you… uhmm… hey, mom… MOM?”
Andy always knew his dad was a busy person, so he might have left for work and perhaps Jennifer went out with her friends. No Surprise. But his mom would never do something like that. No Surprise regarding that, either. Once Andy had come home early as school gave over due to some Government Inspection; his mom had left for shopping, and was so surprised to see Andy sitting on the door mat with his head lost in his hands, she apologized and almost smothered him to death.
But this time it seems serious. This time, the back door was open. This time, the cake was out of the oven. He knew his mom was there. She had to be. He ran upstairs and checked the rooms. And there were tears. Tears of happiness. They were all there… his mom, dad, and Jenny too. Now that’s a Surprise. They were taking a nap. “Aww, that’s so sweet. They tried to make the party special for me, and now they’re all so tired. I guess I’ll wake mom up.” Smiled Andy as he walked up to her side of the bed.
“Mom… wake up mom, I’m here… hey, mom?”
Now that’s strange.
“MOM!!! Wake up!”
Mom wasn’t listening. Andy didn’t like that.
“MOM, this isn’t funny!”
Mom just crossed her limit… Andy pulled her towards himself. But he felt her back wet. Then his fingers touched something. Something which felt like a handle, and something sharp… which seemed to be partly inside his mother’s back. He jumped back. And stared at his hands. They weren’t as he used to know them. They weren’t the soft hands his mom and dad used to hold. They weren’t the hands with which he pinched Jenny all the time. They were different… they were wet… they were red. Yet another Surprise… Happy Birthday, Andy… Happy Birthday.
-Arka Prabha Paul

Au Revoir Part 1

A blank face. A four-storied marvel. A drop of sweat silently sliding over my cheek. An angel at the doorway, with a smile that cannot be forgotten. She held my hand, and welcomed me inside. It was a new world for me. Perhaps another dimension of life which I had not been able to perceive before. I was nervous. I wished the angel, and tried to make myself comfortable by getting myself a seat. To my surprise, there were many more like me in that weird chamber filled with desks and chairs aligned in rows. And they all kept beckoning me to take a seat beside them. I felt better...

...so the class v final examinations were fast approaching and I had absolutely no idea how I'd be able to finish so many chapters in Mathematics! Besides, I'm such a loser when it comes to Mathematics. And then there was this Unit Test the next day! I told mom that I won't be able to make it through to the Senior Section at this rate! But mom had faith in me. That evening she forgot everything else and started helping me out with my math... Two weeks later, we got back our scripts. I crossed my fingers. Before Sir distributed our scripts, he said, "I'm really disappointed with your performance. Only five boys scored above ten out of twenty..." I was like, SHIT! He continued, "...and JUST ONE STUDENT scored a twenty!" Whoa! Some student he is! One by one, the boys received their scripts as if they were death sentences, and they broke down to tears. Only one smiled as he scored a fifteen. Damn! Even the class-topper scored an eleven. Then it was mine. Jesus! I wish I didn't open the fold and peek in. TWO OUT OF TWENTY??? That's IMPOSSIBLE!!! Then my partner came to my rescue. He exclaimed," OH MY GOSH, Arka, you scored A TWENTY!!!" WHAT??? But it was a two wasn't it? I checked my marks once again! I summed them up! OH YES! YES! It IS A TWENTY... didn't notice the zero. I scored a 96 in Mathematics in the Final Examinations. That one evening changed everything...
(to be continued...)

A page from the diary of a soldier.

October 12th, 1942: It was just another ominous day today, without food, water or care. But, not without love. The love for our Mother. The Nazis keep draining Her, but we will continue rejuvenating Her with blood; the blood of Her children, hoping to bring her back to good health.
At 4 am today, a coward comrade Commissar pulled his own trigger at his head. That coward! Even dying to a brother is much more respectable than losing hope. Anyone touching his corpse was to be shot dead, as he was only fit to be devoured by the scavengers.
At about 10 am, the firing intensified; the Nazis were closing in on us. They must be a few yards away from the Volga, and if they walk past, Stalingrad will be stripped of freedom. But may the Gods curse me for even thinking so.
It rained bad news today, and a drop among the others includes the death of comrade Vladimir, our Mother’s valiant son. You have fought well, brother and I promise to shed more tears when we meet again up there somewhere. Hundreds died today, but you dared to take at least 10 Germans along with you. Mother Russia is proud of you, and so is Father Stalin.
My pace of writing seems to decrease day by day. Who knows? Maybe it is significant. I lost my left hand today. It was a sniper. I was lucky to have saved my head. But luck is dying out with time, and before it does, I hope to see the Nazis being chased out of Stalingrad. Tomorrow we will march to the City Center, if we are fortunate enough to make it through the night. Tomorrow, another page of this diary will either be filled with ink or with blood…

2210

New York City, AD 2210: The battlefield. Just about ten thousand humans on the frontier. No, they weren’t experienced soldiers. They were men, women and children of their respective families. The decision had to be made, then. Their lives were at stake. Their population was like a piece of meat under the butcher’s knife. A little more and it’s all over. General Durst took heavy yet slow steps to the podium, from whence he planned to address his “soldiers”. He looked around. Then he looked at his locket, which blurred at his hot breath, in the cold. He looked up. The men were lined up with their last cigars in one hand, and ion defragmenting weapons in the other. The more responsible and smart men took charge of the heavier machinery and vehicles. Women were preparing to defend the UNO headquarters where their children had taken refuge. The UNO headquarters echoed of children’s cries. “It’s now or never”, thought the General. He finally came up with something to speak,” My dearest mothers, friends, and brothers. We are here, united as one. The reason behind my short sentences could cause you to curse and hate me. But somehow, it will satisfy me and you, when Time considers it just. Today, when I woke up, I saw my mother. A lady in white, who called me “Little Billy”, again. It went deep down into my realization, what I felt was “crap”, thirty years from now. It was today. It is today. It will be today. I realized the truth “today”. I folded my hands and shut my senses into prayer. I felt it. Someone at the other end seemed to listen to me. I believe he’s the one my mother used to call “God”. This “God” promised me victory if we all pray. He has saved humans during the 15th Ice Age, and even after the Ice Age, and for every reason that we are here, “today”. Look at you. You are supposed to be in your happy families. Why should you be out here in this cold, facing your own creation? Why do we have to fear “today”, which we considered a blessing yesterday? Aren’t these trash metal copy-of-the-human supposed to be our slaves? Then why are they aiming their weapons at us? Why are we outnumbered in population by this so-called “Man’s Best-‘est’ Friend”? Dear Humans, now, it’s either our prayers, or our graves. We cannot let these Robots take over us. I wish to say no more, but act. So are you all with me? May the “God” be with you.”
 The General threw out a last smoke from his cigar, looked at his mother’s picture at the locket again, and took out the small cross, which his mother had handed over to him thirty years ago. Then he was disturbed by a noise. It was the robots charging towards them. He was pleased to see that his soldiers were in deep prayers. When they opened their eyes, the General shouted out, “This is for you, mom…CHARGE!!!!” 

New York City, AD 2010: “This is an Exclusive Report presented to you by NBC TV. The Senators representing every country in the UNO are excited to find out what Dr. Koshima Atari has in store for the world. This is supposed to be Japan’s step in changing the world. For the last 5 centuries, activists have been trying to end human slavery, and now, it has been accomplished. Now, we will have slaves which will not require extra maintenance; be it health-care, food, or various other requirements. We will now not have to worry about a friend whom we cannot trust. That’s all we know about the upcoming ‘gift to the world’. But what we don’t know is, what is it that will bring such light to the world? ...”
20 minutes later…
 “… Oh mah gosh!!! This is unbelievable!!! And let me repeat; this is an exclusive report by NBC TV and Senators from every country in the UNO are dumbfounded in praise when they found out what Dr. Koshima Atari had in store for the world. This could be a new era in the science and technology of robotics. The first Android: the A-2210. But why name it A-2210, and not A-1, or A-001? Let’s see what the professor has to say about this. Dr. Atari, could you tell us more about this android and it’s strange name? ... … Oh! So you’re saying that you were the 2210th scientist to have joined the Robotics Division of Honda Electronics, and so you believe it’s your lucky number? That’s nice! And perhaps it will be lucky for you for the rest of your life, as the name “A-2210” will echo from ear to ear. Yes friends! According to Dr. Atari, this is supposedly “Man’s Best-‘est’ Friend”. People, the future is here … “