Chapter 2…finally

Let me start at the very beginning now that I have given you a very basic outline of the History behind the failure of mine. It all started when I had to travel to Istanbul on some business. You might find this strange but in this day and age geniuses need to survive and several blackmail threats had born fruit. I was going to meet one of these so-called victims. He was from London but wanted to meet in Istanbul for security reasons. He was staying in The Pierre Loti Hotel and I was to meet him there. I arrived at the airport and collected the car waiting for me. In about twenty minutes I was cruising along the outer walls of the Topkapi palace on Kennedy Caddesi.

Counting down the turnings to the winding road that lead to Topkapi and eventually  Pierre Loti I began to slow. Watching the signals I slowly inched forward. As I was halfway through the turn Somebody who cared not for the rules of the rules came and turtled my car, which was an expensive Bentley. Oh well there went my blackmail money. I would have to pay the rental for the damages.

Next thing I remember was waking up in bed in a hotel room with a gun at my head. Now it all made sense. Mr.Victim was willing to pay for someone to ‘accidentally’ ram the car of the person who was taking ownership of his money. Now he held the upper hand. Life was still a blur right now. There were at-least three people in the room, one of whom was counting money. This ignoramus must have been the one who broke the red light. I use that terminology(Ignoramus) as he was peeling of not one but two or three notes each time. I heard the guy with gun muttering that I had woken up. That meant that the third man in the $2000 dollar tuxedo was my supposed victim, the man whose victim I was now. If I remembered right, his name was Abernathy. I decided conversation was the best time waster. At-least till I thought of a decent plan.

So why am I being held hostage? Abernathy…… right?

Yes you moronic blackmailer! You think you could outwit me? You, a boy. Half my age and thinks he can outwit me? What a joke.

He had just made a mistake. He made the gunman stand down. What an idiot. Anyway he still had not answered my question. so I reminded him. His answer wasn’t too surprising:

I decided to turn the tables on you, you spoiled brat. Teach you a lesson, rascal. The money is now mine, see? If I do not get the money transferred to my Swiss bank account right now, Giovanni here will make sure you do not reach home.

At this the gunman gave me a toothy grin, where i counted at-least three flashes of silver. Then I pointed out that there was no means to transfer the money.

There is a laptop in the bag. Take it. It has wireless internet. Show me if you know how to transfer money, kid  was his reply.

The truth was, I did. But what happened was anything but kiddish. Abe stepped away in an attempt to give me room. This he definitely should not have done. I moved from a lying down posture to a crouching posture, acting like it was hard or rather painful to get up. Using the bend in my knees and the wall as a springboard, I leapt right at the gun man, planting one fist into his face and the other in the drivers stomach. My suspicions confirmed that Abernathy had no fighting skills, I proceeded to relieve the gunman of his gun. Abernathy was shaking now, and rightly so. I proceeded to trash talk him. This usually breaks down the confidence of a person and reduces him to a gibbering mass of clothes and flesh. Oh, and this works better when they are already gibbering.

I should call you Abernathy Darwin Dunlap. At-least that stands for what you have. A.D.D. I’m surprised you even made it this far without forgetting something. Didn’t you see me tensing when I was getting up? You, sir, are a disgrace. Maybe I should use the blackmail money to pay for your place in a mental institution.

He was shaking now. The trash talk was working. Or maybe it was the gun in my hand. I suddenly swung the gun in an arc toward his head and he nearly jumped out of his skin. That proved my suspicion he was afraid of firearms. I smirked to myself. He had given his fear away when he shouldn’t have. Now he was exploitable. I guess I was having too much fun.

So I cut to the chase and asked him why I had been kidnapped(literally). He gibbered for a couple of minutes till I pulled off the safety of the gun. He gave a little shriek and then muttered something I, nor anyone in the world would have understood. I placed it slowly in my left hand and spun it around, hoping he was smart enough to get the message. Obviously he wasn’t.

I didn’t get that could you repeat it?

Still no reply. He really was stupid. This time I slid my trigger finger into place. It looked like finally that tube-light in his head had flickered on. With an alarmed look at the fifty millimetre gap between my finger and the trigger that was closing with rapidity, he said that he needed the diary. This puzzled me as I had never had an inclination to write a diary nor had I read anybody else’s. I was starting to think that I had driven him too nuts when he let loose a stream of words which I think can be best explained like this:

I need the diary that you have that you found and regard as worthless and is written by the monk Jeffrey that tells the story of the god who failed and also how to make the best home-made chocolate cookies in the world.

And to imagine he said this all in one breath. Anyway I decided he would not pose much of a problem anymore and left the poor guy conscious but barely sensible. As I left the hotel he was staying which was incidentally his own, I looked around for a taxi but could not locate none. Oh well I was going to have to leg it to the Hyatt, the hotel I was booked at. You might ask me why I did not leave the country immediately. There were two immediate reasons. The first: I needed to think about     what A.D.D. had said,

and secondly: I had paid the bill in   advance, and seriously,   who turns down two   days in a luxury hotel?

So i reached the hotel and the doorman raised his eyebrows since he was used to seeing almost all the guest stepping out of fancy Mercedes’ or BMW’s or the like. He probably did not expect a guest to show up in a sweat soaked tux to show up on foot. I just grinned broadly at him and proceeded to the reception to check in and collect my keys. I jogged up the stairs since the previous lift had been occupied by a rather large woman and her Chihuahua who managed to take up all the space in the lift. The only other person in the lift, the doorman, was squashed flat against the buttons at the side. I reached my floor and turned on the shower, knowing I had deserved it. In the middle of me soaping, the bell rang. I cursed under my breath and walked dripping towards the door. When I opened it, there was no one, but a small piece of paper that said dinner at 8. I cursed again and went back to my bath, promising myself to go for dinner at 8 and have a shouting match with whoever sent that message. I let the tub fill after my shower and then soaked in it, pondering the two mysteries that had caught up with me today.

Chapter 1

Buongiorno. My name, as you have probably figured out from the cover, is Henrí Kubot. I am a self professed genius and i have proof. I have an IQ score to rival that of even the great Artemis Fowl. I cannot tell you where I live as that would compromise a lot of people including, needless to say, myself. I started in Italian but that doesn’t mean a thing. I speak Dutch, English, French, German, Italian, Portuguese, Spanish and the lesser known Indian dialects of Hindi and Tamil. A few weeks back I returned from the underground fortress of Matawa, much the wiser about certain things and yet knowing that I had failed. I was depressed, naturally, as failure doesn’t come naturally to me. I visited a psychologist, namely myself, and was given the advice to maybe write my experiences, however painful they were. I was of the impression that this might help relieve the depression. So as a result, here I am, writing this at this very moment the event that still causes innumerable mental pains to me. As an introduction to the event, I shall proceed to pen the next paragraph to give you a basic idea and allow you to decide whether or not to proceed.

For those of you who listen to Metallica, then this topic will be easier to relate to. In their fifth studio album, Metallica, the track listed at number eleven is The God That Failed. Now, I doubt Metallica would have realised this but there is maybe an element of truth in the title of the song. I passed it off the first time as simply a good song with a good bass section and well worded lyrics. It caught my interest yet again after my chance meeting with troublemaker Wütanga Sandjo. He produced a book called ‘ A proof of the failure of the greatest god’. This interested me as no god, as far as I knew, had failed. To add to that was the fact that the book was in ancient, yet in perfect modern English. This proved that modern English had been present and had faded out. It had obviously come back but only millennia later. These were written by someone whose name was too badly disfigured for me to understand. It stated that the current gods in the world are the originals but upstarts had opposed the older gods but had not been able to do much more than complaining. The Greeks had it upside down, but they acknowledged the upside down truth as they had two sets of gods but the others didn’t. The end story was, that even if Metallica did not realise it, their song had a lot of truth in it. The younger gods should have won, but they didn’t. The reason: The God Who Failed.

[Next post: Chapter 2. Coming soon..........]

I’m back

I have gotten over my sudden bore of writing and decided to give you all some new material to rant on. The drama series will coninue after a while but in the meantime, there will be chapters from the book I am palnning to write. Coming up is the first chapter from ‘Henrí Kubot: The God Who Failed‘                          Writing soon…….

You taught me to fly like a bird

Well lets take a break from my rants on society and Bala and generally all sorts of unworthy writing material. Hence this post. You might not find as entertaining but I enjoyed writing it. Those who dont listen to Bryan Adams or Def Leppard or Bon Jovi or all those Hard rock kings wont understand a lot from this post, so I warn you, if you dont listen to this and instead listen to some wimpy Lady GaGa or Miley Cyrus, Go away.

So where was I? Ah yes. Bryan Adams. Well you see Bryan Adams was like my introduction to hard rock. The only rock I had listened to previously was soft rock. As a result I have always liked Bryan Adams music. Recently a major scam has come to my notice. I have recently become interested in Def Leppard and when I purchased their greatest hit album, I found a sound too similar to Adams. A sentiment shared with my mother who instantly disliked Leppard. Well, I learned that both used to use the same producer and I am beginning to wonder if he had been a double-crossing cheat.

Now my major bother is whether BA stole from DL or vice versa.

First Drama session with Bala:Urubhangam

So school ended on a Bala-ish note for some and on a rather boring and un-anticipative note for me. I as always the pessimist was wondering how we were going to make up all the money we were supposedly spending and of course I was in the sponsorship committee which had the job of making up all that money.

So anyway, let’s forget my woes and move on to everyone else’s and Bala’s. After school re-opened and we had our first class with Bala. This time, there was a woman who was with him. At once there was huge amounts of speculation. The boys(me included) were wondering whether they were husband and wife and were rubbing our hands with glee at the looks on the girls faces who looked absolutely furious. It was obvious that they too thought they were husband and wife. From that moment, the girls began to loathe the woman whose name was Sunanda or Sam for short(don’t ask me why. Bala said so). So Sam was supposed to be helping us with rehearsals. So that day, the first group stayed with Bala to start their Drama. This group happened to be mine:Urubhangam. So we started with Act I and the three girls who were the soldiers got to work, rather happy that they had got Bala to themselves and happily imagine the envy on their friend’s faces.

So half an hour to forty minutes later, Act I was done and Act II begun. This was where I came in so as usual, I was nervous, wondering what periyaal would say. I had previously acted in a play, albeit pretty badly. So I had to begin with this angry screaming sequence(which was later turned into an amusing dance routine by my friends which i will try and record and post if possible). So all in all it had not gone badly. I had performed to expectations(more mine than his I think) and Bala had not been as hypocritical as he had been. And the girls were furious that I had impressed Bala. Not them. Good ending to a bad day then.

[TO BE CONTINUED...................................]

Yo Bala: the prologue

Well after Bala left for the first time, there was much hype and speculation as to whether his classes would retain that interest factor(this was from the girls) and whether they would provide the same extraordinary atmosphere which enabled people to snore without being noticed(this was from the boys obviously).

The main hype or whatever you wish to call it was that with Bala all periods were reduced to half an hour and this meant if we had a math period after an English period it would be only 20 minutes as our english teacher was the only teacher with the correct time(all school clocks are five minutes fast). Unfortunately, Bala was to come only on Wednesdays and Thursdays, both of which we had math as the first period and our teacher would show up five minutes before class(I still suspect our mathematics teacher had something to do with Bala coming only Wednesday and Thursday.

[TO BE CONTINUED...................................]

Yo Bala

Well I dont know how many of my viewers are knowledgable on this subject, 3/4th having been educated by my wonderful mother( who is seriously worrying me with this  grandmother-like behaviour!!!). Well one day our wonderfully unzippable Hagrid like Mathematics teacher let slip that we would be missing periods for some reason. On further questioning, it turned out that there was a drama that was going to be staged and we were going to be organising it as well. And we would be having only three periods a day.Hmm…… Strange thought the few of us geniuses. Yay screamed the rest of the ignoramuses. Oh well not much I can do about my suspicions right now. so our Director of academics tells us we will be split into various committees to help organise our play. Oh and the school would be hiring a director from across the swamp to help us. When the name was given to our speciality name mangling studios namely class 7 the name went from Bala to Yo Bala. So there we were for the first time in school history doing something this big. AND we were getting a pro director so that we didnt make a mess of it. So there was a sense of elation when Yo Bala arrived and masses of giggling (surprise surprise) boys all thinking that Yo Bala actually fitted the name. So amid loud boos from the boys and romantic sighs from the girls it was decided we were doing 5 plays from the  Mahabharata(dont ask me why 5). So we got to work with these wierd exercises that he set us and me and my friend left the room not feeling very kindly towards him. Me thinking of time bombs, my friend thinking of cow dung.

[TO BE CONTINUED...................................]

The Cannondale

For the last few months, there has been concentrated research and discussions on a certain subject. If you had looked over my father’s shoulder, you would have seen something completely strange. Instead of looking at his usual Camera sites he was doing some heated research on……………….. Yes you guessed it!(sorry no prizes) He was researching bikes(cycles). My usually relaxed father was researching bikes with an unearthly fervour. Reading like that can be stressful when you finally go to the shop and find that the bike you want is not there. He read so much that he knew as much as me, even after the fact that I had gone for a mountain biking camp and knew a lot about bikes. I generally thought that I’d act cool and act as if I knew everything and prove my dad wrong but that was not to be since the salesman at the shop agreed with my dad on everything. Ya it was annoying but I managed and let the man and my dad do the selection. My dad put one or two bikes through their paces and  and we finally decided that the size I needed was there on only one model:the F9. So it was decided. All we had to do was to wait for the Large framed bike to show up from Saidapet. This sounded fairly easy so we waited. And waited. And waited. The salesman made us wait in the end for ONE AND A HALF HOURS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So in the end we told him to call us and we went to Grandparents place which was close by(relatively speaking). We ended up collecting the bike or rather seeing the bike and collecting it later at 9:00 PM. We had arrived there at around 5:45!!!!!!!!!!!! So in the end we got my bike(and two others for my parents) delivered at home. It was the end of a very eventful day and the world was getting ready for another.

ZINGBABA EVERYONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! =D

Hullo all you peoples who are being wanting to see my blog

At one point of time, A person who had become really really jobless for the first time, decided to do something that he had only heard of:blogging; And this person is the very same person who is writing this. Me. For about 6 months( and about a couple more months irregularly) way back then, I was fascinated and kept Blogging. Of course all good things must come to an end. Hence, it did and the blog stopped. But that was only Temporary. You cannot keep a retired Pro from trying to come back can you? So a year back I began blogging again, this time on wordpress. Again there was a burst of enthusiasm which soon died out  about 11 months back(I might be wrong).

But earlier this year, one of my close relatives started a blog about Chennai and all things generally. That relative would allow my family to guest write on her blog and now collectively almost everyone had a blog. Except me. This occured to me as strange as I was the first in the famiy to have gotten a blog. so I waited and watched as my Relative’s blog gained popularity like nobody’s business. I didn’t think of doing anything at the time because I was terribly busy. But just last month, my relative was requested to host a very prestigious fortnightly bird blogging carnival(Only virtually of course). This was too much. My relative also seemed to find the time and imagination to write about anything and everything, from her anger at the quality of advertisements to a birding trip, my relative could write on anything. Even a trip to the clothes store could be dramatized and fitted in.

My other relative’s blog was of a more humorous vein with anonymous comedies including family members and all sort of what my relative called “madness”.

So as a result I have decided to try again and set up a new blog and see if I am able to maintain interest in the blog and not just clutter up cyberspace and junk it 2 weeks into the project. So I am hoping whoever reads this will please comment and give me support.

ZINGBABA TO YOU ALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! =D