Sunday, December 20, 2009
Freedom..
Sunday, September 27, 2009
A path less Trodden
So, what do I write about after more than a year’s hiatus? Well, it’s going to be another religious blog. But no, this is not going to be just another piece that wants to bash either side for the heck of it. This is what I am writing to myself. To provoke my consciousness, and probably remind me of what I thought of the whole process on this particular day and age, of my swing between atheism and agnosticism. When I say agnosticism, it’s more towards atheism and more about why things are the way they are and about a sense of belonging that is still hard to totally get rid of (I know I don’t make much sense here, but so does religion).
What makes us have such a misplaced trust in religion? Why is it the only area of hope? Most people have placed the argument of a mental satisfaction and sense of calm arising out of religion. But that is because you have trained it in that particular way. Evolution says that even without religion we would think on the same lines and have the same values. (Now, those who say that there is no evolution and that the earth is 6000 years old and all the fossils were planted there can stop reading here. I am not even talking to you. You are beyond hope and I really admire you for your profound dumbness). And no one can answer this better than Dawkins in his god delusion. I have always thought about how we would behave without law and order which he talks about in his book. We are basically ethical beings, who want to protect our gene and this is actually the basis of altruism. Hence, we don’t need religion to be good. Rather, we can use religion to be evil. Like jihad, religious violence, witch-hunting, sati, killing for apostasy and so many other things that make a bottomless list.
You say that god is all-powerful, has the knowledge of the past, the present and the future. But excuse me, what are we doing here with our lives? Richard Dawkins put forward this argument in his book that god can’t be omnipotent and omniscient at the same time. If he is omniscient, he has an all pervading knowledge that makes him realize our future. But at that very moment he ceases to be omnipotent, because he is not potentially changing anything that happens in the future, because he already knows that how it is going to happen due to his omniscience. Even assuming that there is a god and that he is omniscient, what is his purpose in creating life and letting it flourish in all directions, but still knowing everything that is going to happen to them. What is the fun? Unless he is a megalomaniac trying to display his power, this is not a very intelligent thing to do. Or he is so childish that he is playing ‘world’ in his spare time? (Spare time from what?) And to think of it, he does not even have other gods to show off to! Another analogy, under the assumption that there is a god and he is omniscient, is that is he knows all then future and everything that is going to happen, then what is the use of us praying to him? Since, he already has a predetermined course, your prayer is of no consequence in his master-plan. And assuming that your prayer is heeded, why would a god whom you portray as an embodiment of perfection, choose you over someone who is much more deserving, and has worked harder to reach that level. If he does that, I don’t think great of a god who values your devotion to him higher than the hard work required to achieve it. I see a megalomaniacal person on the brink of bigotry. You can ask me, ‘what is the purpose of life?’ It’s mind-blowing and simple. There is no purpose in life. Life was a random chemical accident. Well, not exactly random since statisticians will be quick to point out that randomness is not random. Ok, chemical accident. Probably you were told that you have a greater purpose in life so that you don’t ‘randomly’ kill yourself. I think that life runs for survival and survival runs for life. That’s the perfect couple there.
Throughout our parables and mythology, we have come across gods who are less than perfect. They fight, they kill each other, cheat their enemies, destroy enemy families, are jealous, sometimes cowardly and other such attributes that I would not associate with someone I am supposed to worship. Well, why should I? This also brings us to an interesting aspect. You cannot deny the above mentioned attributes, since they are recorded. You cannot also ask me to neglect such aspects and concentrate on just higher philosophies, because they are based on these basic facts. The whole story of the god’s imperfection, their constant bickering with each other and them trying to propagate their ideology has an uncanny resemblance to contemporary kings. I am greatly persuaded to believe that the great philosophers and writers who wrote down the scriptures merely reflected the persona of the society they were living in. It could be a tribute to the various kings who guided the life and their conquests. Another aspect that points towards this is the morals and the kind of living that pervaded in the society, which is reflected in the books. They just put forward what was best according to them. Though we conveniently neglect theses irregularities and say that times have changed, we still retain the god aspect of it. In reality, we have regressed more into the ritualistic aspect of it.
It s totally not right to base our life on some Stone Age and bronze ages books. Take the Vedas for example. The scholars who have done extensive research on them give an estimated date of 1500 BC for the earliest of them, the Rig Veda. Some other proponents of Out of India Theory date even back by a couple of millennia. And our very own Vedic philologers give an estimate of of 10000 to 15000 BC for them. More the reason to lose faith in these texts, which are nothing but hymns in praise of the celestial Agni, Indra, Vayu, Ashwinis and prescribe methods for animal and other ritualistic sacrifices. I think this is totally unacceptable since what we are doing is precisely praying to nature. Why don’t you guys pray to electricity, magnetism, volcanic eruptions and earthquakes? They are also a part of nature and deserve their rightful status in front of the wind god, fire god, lightning god and rain god. It’s because there was no electricity or magnetism in the minds of the ‘authors’ then. This proves my point right that the texts are contemporary worship manuals. I think most present day pious people will be offended to hear that it contains a whole chapter on soma, which was predominantly known to be psychosomatic. If not that, at least a mind-altering drug. Even conservatively assuming that all they did was produce extreme mental stimulation and high sense of alertness, it can still be associated with banned stimulants like steroids. The Brahmins were said to have used them in their study and temples prepared them on a regular basis. And one theory even talks about the movement of Mesopotamians to India because of the abundance of soma there. So going by today’s standards, I can’t use them. This is just another example to show that these books are contemporary literature and contains what the society believed in.
The Vedas are also said to be sanatana and apurusheya, meaning eternal and not man-made. The explanation is that every time the universe is destroyed and created anew, Brahma hands it over to the next set of people. So in the sense, they don’t have a beginning. So, why doesn’t he make that special appearance once again and solve this problem once and for all. Again, we are said that the Vedic society was virtuous and we are in kali yuga and god does not set foot on this dump anymore, other than to destroy it. Well, going by present day standards, we can’t call them very virtuous. They practiced ritualistic animal sacrifice, used hallucinogens/stimulants, practiced rampant polygamy, polyandry and above all had a flourishing caste system, which people placed in high regard. Religious practitioners (aka rishis) cursed and turned people to stones without any remorse, regret or regulations (supposedly). Kings could take anyone to be their concerts and sex was out in the damn open. The society which considers premarital sex immoral and multiple sexual partners in a lifetime as a great immorality needs to take a peek at the Vedic society that practiced that, before calling them the best of times. The whole point of the above tirade was to question the sanctity of these Bronze Age (Iron gets mentioned only in the later day yajur veda) texts and their dominance of our lives.
Now, what about karma? I don’t have any need to go into the specifics of karma. Why would you want to believe in such a concept? Because you were told to? Imagine your dad keeps beating you all the time, but will not tell you why he is doing that. So, you keep thinking that you are being whacked for something you did wrong, but don’t know what (unless your dad is a weirdo or sadomasochistic bastard). Imagine you become amnesiac sometime in your life. Imagine that you are incarcerated for the rest of your life for some crime you did before you lost your mind. That would be some good ‘purpose of life’, wouldn’t it? Or even imagine a 75 year old man incarcerated for a rape he committed when he was 18. There is no point. That’s the same with karma. It’s stupid to be punished for what you did in your previous birth, even if something like that exists. I rest my case.
P.S. I haven’t capitalized god deliberately. And I have a lot more to write, but not in this one.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Pawns and Kings
"I don't trust him. We're friends." - Bertolt Brecht
CHAPTER 1: THE WAITING
The Room
Wednesday
The blades of the old fan slowly went rounds. Lefty scratched his stubble every now and then as Miman, looking detached from his surroundings, searched for cigarettes.
Lefty: How long it’s been?
Miman Angrez: Thirty minutes. Would you shut up already?
Lefty: Have you ever noticed something? Every time we order pizzas, they tell you its gonna take forty minutes. But every time it takes forty five, that’s five more minutes. Exactly 5 more minutes, every time.
Miman Angrez: How many times have we ordered pizza before and what’s your point?
Lefty: My point is that when it always takes forty five minutes why don’t the motherfuckers tell us that its gonna take that long. Or may be if they tell us that its gonna take forty five minutes, that mean its gonna take five more, fifty minutes. Now that’s a vicious circle, ain’t it.
Miman Angrez: You know I have never been a fan of your logic. Just chill. Pass me the cigarettes.
Lefty(threw the cigarette pack at Miman): Doesn’t smoking make you feel hungry.
Miman Angrez: On the contrary, it kills my hunger.
Lefty: That’s weird man. I can’t take a smoke now. I mean I’ll die of hunger before that fuck brings me my pizza.
Miman Angrez: Its called dying of starvation.
Lefty(gazes at Miman): Now you are fucking with me.
Miman Angrez: You are talking way too much. Better words make for better conversation, don’t you think.
Lefty: That’s why they call you Angrez man. Yeah but I have never been a fan of your literary skills.
Miman(with a smirk) : Yeah well...
Lefty glanced at Miman in a menacing way. The next time he spoke, he spoke sternly.
Lefty: What?
Miman Angrez: Nothing. Get that remote man. Let’s watch some TV.
Lefty picked up the remote and switched the TV on. The sun was high in the sky and the only sound that seemed to inhabit the place is the guitar on the TV. They stared at the television for some time, no other voices, just the guitar playing. Lefty kept on fidgeting on the sofa and amidst all that guitar invaded silence, the creak of the fan became apparent.
Lefty: Man do they always show this Johnny Cash shit.
Miman Angrez: I like him. He plays the guitar well.
Lefty: Dunno. I never had much ears for guitars.
Miman(Passed Lefty the cigarette): Me neither. You gotta listen to fuckers like Hendrix, that Santana guy and this sunny boy right here. I am telling you, they do get to you man.
Lefty(took a puff): You really like 'em.
Miman Angrez: Ya, I aint shitting you. You can consider me a convert. Did you just smoke? You said you wont.
Lefty: I lied.
Miman Angrez: When will you start keeping your word.
Lefty: I am trying hard. And convert? What convert?
Miman Angrez: To the religion of music.
Lefty: Hmm...answer this.
Miman Angrez: What?
Lefty: Guitar or pizzas?
Miman Angrez: Well that depends.
Lefty: On what?
Miman Angrez: How many pizzas are we talking 'bout here?
A(smiling): Oh, a lot. More than the times I have fucked that afro girl.
Miman Angrez: Well now that ain’t a verified figure, is it?
Lefty: Never thought you would doubt me man. Still, guitar or pizzas?
Miman Angrez: Can't answer that now. I gotta learn to play the guitar first.
Lefty: So are you ?
Miman Angrez: Yeah. I am gonna learn it.
Lefty: Man you are turning into a bum. And anyways, why do you need to learn to play the guitar to answer the question.
Miman Angrez: How can I compare them when I haven’t experienced what playing the guitar feels like.
Lefty: Just to remind you, playing the guitar and eating pizzas are two quite different kinds of experiences. How are you ever gonna compare them.
Miman Angrez: Didn’t you just contradict yourself? But that’s a good argument. Brings me to my next point.
Lefty: Which is ?
Miman Angrez: Satisfaction.
Lefty(smoke leaving his mouth): Explain.
Miman Angrez: You can’t compare things that fall in two different domains. However, you can compare experiences. Now each experience is related with a satisfaction level, that is how satisfied you feel after it. So basically I can relate to something by considering how satisfied I felt doing it. That can help me compare pizzas and guitars.
Lefty: Hmm..may be. But by that reasoning, Johnny wasn’t at fault, was he?
Miman Angrez: How is that?
Lefty: Well he did that shit for the first time. He didn’t know what was gonna happen because he had never 'experienced' it. Ain't it.
Miman Angrez: Thats stretching it a little too far. You can justify anything with that logic. Told you thats why I don’t like your logic.
Lefty: So?
Miman Angrez: So nothing. We cant fuck this up now. V would bloody shoot our asses, you know that.
Lefty: Yeah well, just that its a lot harder to focus on something when you know its possibly unreasonable.
Miman Angrez: There's nothing unreasonable in this.
Lefty: Well, you don’t know.
Miman Angrez: Didn’t know you were such a reasonable man.
The bell rang. Both of them got up. Miman went to open the door.
Lefty: How long did it take?
Miman(looking at the watch): Forty five minutes.
Lefty(smiling lazily): Told you.
Miman opened the door.
Delivery boy: Your pizzas sir. The bill is four fifty.
Miman Angrez: Yeah. Come in.
Delivery Boy entered the room and Miman closed the door behind him.
Lefty took out his wallet as he spoke.
Lefty: So, how long have you been delivering pizzas.
Delivery Boy: Nearly an year now sir.
Miman Angrez: Well that means you are a pro now. Ain't it.
Delivery Boy(with a smile): I guess so.
Miman took out a gun from his jacket and pressed it against Delivery Boy's crotch.
Miman Angrez: Then why did you have to do something that stupid? Why Johnny? A smart delivery guy like you.(raises his voice) Or you ain’t that smart, you are just plain stupid, that's why you got in the middle of that shit.
Johnny: Wh....what? O Shit..shit.
Lefty: Remember the incident at 45th street this weekend? You were a hero, were you not?
Lefty took out a gun and shot Johnny in the leg. He fell to the ground, blood spurting out of his knee. Johnny reached into his pocket as if searching for something.
Miman(Shouting): Take the Goddamn hand out of your pocket. Were you going to call other delivery boys as we stood here watching you do that?
Lefty: Time's up Johnny boy. Guess you had an adventure too much.
Johnny: No..no...
Lefty shot him in the head. In an instant, Johnny's body lay there in a pool of blood, his red T shirt now indistinguishable from its surroundings. Miman came and whispered to Lefty.
Miman Angrez: Fancy a pizza?
Lefty looked around.
Lefty: Here?
Miman Angrez: Yeah. Johnny won’t disturb us.
Lefty looked at Johnny's body then looked at Miman. He swallowed and nodded before he spoke next.
Lefty: Yeah. What the heck.
Miman Angrez: I think we should call V and tell him the fucking job's done.
Lefty: No, we don't call him, not yet. Lets eat.
CHAPTER 2: THE INCIDENT AT 45TH STREET
45th Street
4 days back
Voice: Hello. Hello. Can you hear me?
Johnny: Yes. Sir?
Voice: Ya, what?
Johnny: Am a little nervous.
Voice: Don’t worry. You are working with the state police here, not a bunch of retarded vigilantes. The cops would be there at the scene in seconds. You remember the car, don’t you?
Johnny: Yes sir.
Voice: Gimme the description again.
Johnny: Black Tata Safari. MH 02 DY 5745.
Voice: Good. Just focus. It will be over in a minute. You are not gonna get hurt, I promise you. No one knows your identity except us.
The Sergeant's reassurance didn't go down too well with Johnny but he knew there was no turning back now. He had to trust the police and in their ability to protect him. Five more minutes before the car came by. He had memorized all he had to do. All that he had to speak, but the trembling won't stop. He told himself to calm down. All he had to do was get the driver out of the car, somehow. It would all be over soon and he can go back to delivering pizzas, back to his normal life, he told himself.
Some time went by. He couldn't stop perspiring. He looked around and spotted it. He got on the bike and turned on the engine. Now all he had to do was wait for the car to get near and then bang into it. Why they didn't get a cop to do this was still beyond him. Was it that they didn't want one of them to be the collateral damage? Should he be doing this at all? All this just for some money !!
Voice: Go Johnny go.
The car approached and he drove towards it. Traipsing through the crowded road, he banged into it. The car stopped, throwing him off from the bike and the impact scraped his left knee. It was time for action, he had to forget the pain and get down to business. The voice in his ears urged him to get going.
Johnny: You son of a bitch, are you driving with your eyes closed.
The driver didn’t look the least bit perturbed. He kept on smoking with steely nonchalance.
Driver: Get the fuck out of my way.
Johnny: Motherfucker, you broke my bike. Don't you see where you are going. You are paying for this.
Driver(putting out the cigarette): How much do you want asshole. Tell me.
The driver took a bundle of cash out of a pocket in his jacket. He took out some notes and handed them to Johnny. They were all 500 bills. Johnny hadn't seen that kind of money in his life. He had to focus. He had to get him out of the car. He slapped the notes away.
Johnny: Stop fooling around. You are getting my bike taken care of. You got that punk.
Driver: Fuck off.
He started the engine. Johnny started to panic. Whatever he said, the driver wasn't getting out of the car. His mind stopped working and he did the only thing he could figure out at the moment. He punched the driver in the face knowing very well that he would be carrying a gun for sure and that he might shoot him as well. These were hardened criminals for God's sake. The driver's nose started bleeding, he loked at Johnny, his eyes full of rage as he stepped out of the car. Johnny could see the gun tucked by his jeans, covered by the jacket. His heart was pounding in his chest.
Driver: O Boy, you are gonna pay.
Where were the cops. Where were the fucking cops!!! The driver punched him in the stomach, Johnny felt his breathing stop. His eyes searched for the cops. They were not to be seen. Johnny fell to the ground and the driver forced his bulky frame on him. As he was about to be punched for a second time, a gun came and rested on the driver's head. It was the Sergeant.
Sergeant: Step away from him, move towards the car and raise your hands. NOW!!!
The driver stepped away, still looking with mad eyes at Johnny. The rest of the backup appeared and they started searching the car. The driver was arrested and kilograms of cocaine found in the trunk of the car. The operation had been successful. Sergeant came and patted Johnny's back as he still sat gasping for breath. The Sergeant and an officer cleared the mess and got back in the police van as the driver was handcuffed and thrown at the back of another police car to be taken to the lockup.
Officer: Sergeant?
Sergeant(lighting a cigarette): Yeah?
Officer: I am still wondering why we had to use that kid for the job. Anyone of us cold have done this job.
Sergeant let out a puff, looked around, saw the driver being thrown into the van. Then he turned to the officer.
Sergeant: Now that we have used an ordinary man in our operation, the goons, whoever they are, will come to know of this. And they will come after him.
Officer: Yeah. That’s my point. We endangered this kid's life for God's sake.
Seagent: Didn't I fill you in or are you just so mind numbingly dumb.
The officer was quiet deciding whether to reply or not.
Sergeant: Officer: They should come after him. That’s the plan.
CHAPTER 3: THE GAMEPLAN
Same Day
They reached the police headquarters. The driver was locked up, his belongings checked. The Sergeant went to his cabin and sat down with a thump. The tumultuous morning had had its impact on him, so he got himself a coffee. He reclined back on his chair and lifted the photograph from his table. There he was, 9 years old with his father, mother and brother, all laughing with joy. He remembered how him and his brother used to play in the backyard and his mother used to get them snacks. That picture had always remained with him. They ate all of it with dirty hands with a smile on their face as their mother used to give up telling them to go get washed up first. That innocence was long gone and here he was, a caricature of his former self, he thought. The officer entered with a cell phone.:
Officer: So are you going to tell me the reason behind using Johnny, or is it just that you think that all of us here are pussies who wouldn't stand up to a challenge.
The Sergeant looked at him and smiled.
Sergeant: Sit. As I told you, they have to come after Johnny.
Officer: You told me that already,
Sergeant(leaned forward): What we know is that they would find Johnny, what they do not know is what Johnny looks like.
The Sergeant went quiet.
Officer: So?
Sergeant: So an undercover officer will work in Johnny's place. They will come after him and when they think they have got to Johnny, we would have got to them.
Officer: How..how will that officer contact us?
Sergeant: Now you have really got me doubting your intellect officer. Its the 21st century for God's sake. Our guy will always carry a microtransmitter whose receiving end would be with me. If he can’t call me, he can just press the button and I can get his exact location. Does that work for you?
Officer(clearing his throat): Yes Sir. It does, it does.
Sergeant: Go check on the driver. Get as much out of him as you can.
The officer left the room. He came back in barely ten minutes.
Sergeant: So, you got anything for me?
Officer: Bad news.
Sergeant: What?
Officer: Seems like he was wearing a cyanide capsule around his neck. He ate it.
Seagent: What!! Are you kidding me? Didn’t you lock his hands??
Officer: Sir..
Sergeant(shouting): Oh Shut up!!! He was the only lead we had into this thing. What are we going to do, trace the car's registration number? What are we, fucking private detectives !!!!
Sergeant always made him nervous. Officer thought this would be a good time to do it, so he took out the cell phone out of his pocket.
Officer: Sergeant. This guy made a call to some guy, Miman, 10 minutes before we nabbed him..
The Sergeant took the phone from him and checked the call register. He stared at it, scrolling up and down for some time before he spoke.
Sergeant: Hmm..this is not good. We need to find this guy Miman. But ..
Officer: But?
Sergeant: These are ruthless criminals we are dealing with. I am afraid that before we get to Miman, they might get to him. If one of their gang can commit suicide to protect their identity, they would do anything to do the same.
Officer: And he is our only lead into this case as of now.
Sergeant: Who ever runs this will know that this guy is dead. I am praying they don’t know about the call made to Miman. Otherwise for all I know, they will kill him as well. They will do anything to save their own ass, these bastards.
Officer: They will kill one of their own? They would do that to someone of their own kind?
Sergeant: These people don’t work on emotion, officer. We need to find him before that happens othereise for all I know, we are back to square one. And I don't blame them, this is a huge racket. Anybody running this has to be ruthless enough to kill with impunity, even if its one of their own. For all I know, they may even employ one of Miman's closest allies to kill him.
Officer: Will that guy do it?
Sergeant looked out of the window. He seemed to be in deep thought and talked more to himself than to the officer.
Sergeant: He will have to. Search the car. I want all the leads we can find.
The officer left. Sergeant came back to his seat, made sure no one was around, picked up his cellphone and made a call.
Sergeant: Hello Miman. Listen up.
CHAPTER 4: THE PROPOSITION
V's Den
Wednesday
V: We can always play with the boundaries of good and bad, can't we? Man is a selfish thing Lefty. All that you have so far done in your life has been selfish, ain't it. Otherwise why would you do that. Its the same this time round. All I am asking you to do is serve yourself.
Lefty: This is back-stabbing.
V: You seem to lack perspective Lefty. You don't see the larger picture. He is our only weak link. If the damn cops trace him down, we all go down.
Lefty: Why me? I have been working seven years with him.
V: That's exactly why you. He would never suspect you to do it.
Lefty: I don't care. Ask someone else to do it. I won't.
V: Hear me out. Don't you want to know what's in it for you.
Lefty:(with a mock smile): Oh, there's something for me too. You know how to please everyone, don't you. Stop fucking with me V. Stop....
V(interrupting): You can go to Bangkok. Take care of our shit there.
They stared at each other. Lefty had stopped talking. For as long as he can remember, he had been pestering V to send him there. He knew V had played his hand and played it well.
V: So, what do you say?
Lefty: You are a jerk.
V(laughing): No. I am a rational man. And if you think rationally, you would agree to my point. I don't want this either but Miman needs to go. Do it for everybody's sake.
Lefty still kept quiet. His thoughts had been focused on Miman but now Bangkok started to gain space.
V: I know you must be a bit uncertain. Convince yourself. I would make sure you leave the country within minutes of this shit. Just take Miman out along with Johnny. And when you do it, just send me a message that says 'Yes' and you will be on your way to Bangkok before you can realize what happened. Do all the guilt fighting on the plane coz when you land in Bangkok, you wont be able to feel the guilt even if you want to.
Lefty(with a smirk): Is that a promise?
V: You know damn well it is.
Lefty felt a rush of blood. He knew V meant every word he said. On the other hand, he wondered if V would dispense with him too if the need arises. He decided to convince himself and this thought made him fell better as he knew he was half way through the job for accepting it. He nodded, turned and started to leave.
V: And you very well know, I don’t take no for an answer.
Lefty: I know that.
CHAPTER 5: THE HOUR OF RECKONING
The Room
Wednesday
They ate in silence as Cash was replaced by Les Paul on TV. Johnny's body lay there soaked in blood and looked like a work of art from a twisted painter in the barren room.
Miman Angrez: Man I am taking a liking to this cheese burst shit. You are right about his man.
Lefty was hardly speaking now, waiting for his soul to die.
Miman Angrez: Man, from now on, I am sticking to whatever you suggest we eat.
Lefty: You like it?
Miman Angrez: Hell Yeah, I like it.
Lefty: Good. Finally we have something we both like.
Miman Angrez: C’mon, what you talking bout. We already have things we both like.
Lefty: Like what?
Miman pointed to Johnny's dead body.
Miman Angrez(with a smile): Killing punks.
Lefty looked at Johnny's body, stared at the bullet wounds and the mess that he lay in. He pushed the pizza away.
Miman looked at him, amazed.
Miman Angrez: What?
Lefty: What? This aint funny alright.
Miman Angrez: We have pizzas and we didn’t even have to pay the motherfucker. Howz that not good for you?
Lefty: This shit ain’t funny. How can you find humor in this sort of thing. Do you think we are nice people?
Miman Angrez: Chill man chill. Why are you getting so worked up? We have been doing this shit for years. What the fuck is the matter with you today? If I got upset about every man I killed, I would be fucking dead by now.
Lefty stared at him, still breathing heavily. He told himself that he had a job to be completed. He had to keep his emotions in control, not give anything away but fighting himself was harder than he had thought it would be. He wished for some meteorite to hit them and end the whole mess right away. But he knew that eventually he only had one choice. He sat back and picked up the pizza slice.
Miman Angrez(nibbling on a slice): But you do have a valid point. This shit ain’t supposed to be funny. I give you that. But then we have assumed roles which do not allow us to get emotional about all this. I mean your point makes sense from a, say, a salaried guy's point of view. He is supposed to feel bad about killing people, because that's not his fucking job. We, on the other hand, make a living out of this. Guess at some level, everyone has to be indifferent about the consequences of his work. That’s Darwin's rule ain’t it.
Lefty wiped sweat from his forehead.
Lefty: How the fuck did you get into this profession? You should have been some bloody english teacher. Who the fuck is Darwin and what’s his rule?
Miman Angrez: Well he was some big shot philosopher for all I know. What he said was that only the fittest survive. Now fitness in this context might mean indifference. I mean look at the beasts. If the lion starts feeling bad about killing other animals, its gonna die, you know of what.
Lefty: Of starvation.
Miman Angrez: Great man. You are catching up quick.
Lefty kept staring at the table while Miman rambled on.
Lefty: Yeah. yeah you are right. Guess we are all beasts at the end of the day.
Miman Angrez: Yeah, its good to see you agree. Finally.
They both laughed. Miman's laugh hearty, Lefty's forced out. Lefty looked at the gun on the table. It still had 5 bullets. He decided he would use only one. Aim at the head and finish it quick. That way it wont pain, not Miman not himself. He convinced himself that it was natural he would feel a pang of guilt. Him and Miman had been working together for 7 years. He told himself that it was necessary, to survive. To be the fittest.
Miman Angrez: Well. Not exactly.
Lefty: What?
Miman Angrez: We ain’t exactly beasts. I mean that’s what differentiates humans from animals. Animals are like, you know, one man armies. They live for themselves, well mostly. People live with each other.
Lefty felt his hands. They were trembling. He took them out of the view of Miman, under the table. He had to do it.
Miman Angrez: Well, people thrive on the notion of familiarity. We make our own little worlds, within which we kind of care for people, but outside it, others are aliens. Ain’t it? I guess that’s why people are called animals. We may behave in a civilized way as long as surroundings are familiar, but we become beasts when we loose the sense of familiarity. Like you and me here is a familiar thing, this Johnny boy, on the other hand was an alien. And a pretty fucked up alien at that. You get what I am saying? We tread a fine line between being human and beasts.
He is not familiar, he is talking bullshit, Lefty kept telling himself. Kill him and go. Kill him and make a move. Do what you have been told to do. You don’t want your own ass on fire. His thoughts almost choked him. Lefty looked at the gun.
Miman Angrez: Now this is called emotion. You see...
Lefty: Don’t give me that bullshit.
Miman Angrez: What? Ain’t you getting what I am saying?
Lefty got fidgety. Hold it, hold it, don’t give in now, he told himself. He felt his eyes welling up and a feeling of fear followed. He told himself that if he didn’t do it, V was not going to let Miman live anyway. Meanwhile, a police car stopped in front of the building, Sergeant got out of it.
Lefty: Shut up man.
Miman Angrez: No, see.
He knew he was losing his will. He had to kill. He got up in a rage, screaming at the top of his voice.
Lefty: SHUT UP!!! SHUT THE FUCK UPPPP.
They stared at each other. Lefty was panting heavily, still trembling. Miman looked bewildered. They kept gazing into each other's eyes. Lefty searched for an answer to the question he was posed with, whether to be the beast and do as told or be a human and face the consequences but all he found in Miman's eyes was bewilderment. He decided to stop thinking and just do what he had to. Miman was still talking.
B(looking into Lefty's eyes): For example, today, Johnny Was a human, but here we are, two beasts.
Lefty: Yeah well, you are right about that. You are damn right.
Finally, Lefty had made up his mind. He got up and moved around. He took out his cellphone and started typing. Miman kept talking.
Miman Angrez: And you know how beasts are. They are selfish. All they worry about is their own ass. The only question remaining is, that when you know what you have to do and I know what I have to, who is the bigger beast?
Lefty didn't understand what Miman was saying. He looked at him, confused. In a flash, Miman picked up the gun and aimed at Lefty.
Miman Angrez: Guess I am the bigger beast today.
All that Lefty could do was stare at Miman.
Lefty: You knew about it? You didn’t say anything to me.
Miman Angrez: I lied..too.
Lefty: Miman..
The bullet was shot and Lefty was thrown back, blood instantly oozing out of his chest. And he was dead. Miman stood there with the gun in his hands. He wanted to be sure and to do that he fired two more bullets in Lefty's chest, screaming. His lifeless body jerked with the impact. Miman kept looking at his body. The door was thrown open and the Sergeant entered.
Sergeant: FREEZE.
Miman turned around. They stood pointing the guns at each other. Nobody moved for some time, nobody spoke, both panted as sweat dripped down their cheeks and looked more like tears. Then they took their guns down.
Sergeant: You allright?
Miman Angrez: Yeah.
Sergeant entered the room and looked at the two dead bodies lying around. He turned to Miman, still out of breath.
Sergeant: Look at all this mess.
Miman Angrez: Did you make all the arrangements. I can leave India right now, isn't it?
Sergeant looked up at him.
Sergeant: Yeah. Yeah.
Miman Angrez: Ill make a move then.
Sergeant: Yeah I guess its time for you to go.
Miman turned back and started to leave. Three policemen crashed into the place and pointed their guns at him. He realized what had been done.
Miman Angrez: You bastard. You double crossed me.
Sergeant: Dont call me a bastard. That makes you one too. (To the policemen) Arrest him.
Miman was taken away and Sergeant started to inspect the place. Another officer entered the place.
Sergeant: Seal this room. We need to get every detail out of it.
Officer: Yes Sergeant. We lost our undercover, Sir.
Sergeant(looked at his dead body): No plan is perfect, officer. Collateral damage is a given, sometimes its them, sometimes its us.
Officer: He trusted us to be there for him. We failed him.
Sergeant: We did the best we could. No point blaming anyone. Take his body, he shall be buried with all the honor.
Officer: We should keep the media off this for some time.
Seagent: Yeah that would be a good idea. All we have right now is a dead cop, a dead gangster and his cell phone on which it seems, he was typing a message. Some mess this.
Officer: What does the message say?
The Sergeant shrugged unable to make anything of it.
Seagernt: It says 'No'.
APORKALYPSE
An infection that appears to have lain dormant since the early 1980s seems to have resurfaced. The swine flu known to have originated in Mexico is probably the only export of the country in the last 50 years besides immigrants and drugs. In all of this it is believed that the flu was finally brought to the United States by Miss Piggy, who is known to have had been touring in Mexico. The biggest fall down of this is the death of the beloved icon, Kermit the frog, who contracted the flu from yet another attempt of Miss Piggy to kiss him.
As the world arms itself with tissues, masks, body suits and quarantine chambers, we present to you some schmooze we caught off the air waves and your own guide on what to do and not to in these distressing times.
1) SWINE FLU: GOD’S LATEST PUNISHMENT OF IDOL-WORSHIP
Let’s face it. God doesn’t punish nonbelievers today to the same degree He did in the days of old. Apart from the occasional flood, tornado and plane crash which involve just handfuls of nonbelieving sinners, He has largely put up with the world’s increasing tolerance to homosexuals, abortionists, Indian Idol, American Idol, Taiwan Idol, Jamaican Idol, Galapagodas Idol and Idle worshippers who head bang themselves to lethargy. But no more! The Lord is back with a vengeance.One of God’s favorite conduits for extinguishing evil is swine. This time, the swine are staying alive and killing the devils, a/k/a Mexicans, a/k/a Simon Cowell, a/k/a cultists, a/k/a idol-worshippers.
2) WHINE FLU
In another unrelated phenomena is the emergence and the rampant spread of the whine flu. The whine flu derived from a non threaning but a highly irritating strain of the H@#!N$%* flu. It mostly affects people already suffering from a condition called Idiotica Hypochondriacae. It results in the patient panicking that he or she has the “piggy flu” due to over exposure to Twitter, Pearls Before Swine, Burritos and Barack Obama. Thus adequately choking the public health system and triggering mass hysteria. The WHO have issued a song in public interest “Had Enough” and “Why did I fall for that” asking all the whiners to stay shut and keep that way.
3) ANGELINA FILES PETITION TO ADOPT THE THREE LIL PIGS
Fiji, Sunday: Hollywood Actress Angelina Jolie here today filed an application along with long time partner Brad Pitt to adopt the adorable trio of the “Three lil Pigs”. The three pigs who are Legen…wait for it…dary for their amusing children’s story along with the Big bad Wolf, were ousted from the city by the Public Health office due to the recent swine flu scrare. Miss Jolie who is already known for her willingness to expand her “Rainbow Family” said she wants to do all she can for this humanitarian cause and couldn’t wait to add them to her current collection. The Big Bad Wolf saddened by the impending loss of his chums can be found in the local bars strumming to the tune of “Pigs (three different ones)” by Pink Floyd and drinking himslef unto getting rusticated. ;)
4) HOW TO NOT CATCH THE FLU?
1. Always cover your nose and mouth when you sneeze. Rush and wear a mask if anyone sneezes around you. Special Anniversary Jacko accessory masks available for 100 USD. Extra-special maks for under 5 toddlers featuring Peterpan and Neverland, 75 USD.
2. When in doubt, do as the Lady Macbeth does. Always wash your hands. Before eating. Wash your hands. After eating. Wash your hands. In between while chewing mess-chawal wish you were having a peproni pizza instead. Wash your hands.
3. If you happen to get sick- Stay locked in your room. Put it up as your FB status. Create mass panic. Ensure a 2 week college off. Win the “Most popular person on campus”poll.
4. If you know someone who is sick- Shut them in a glass box. Sell them as a live specimen to AajTak Sansani. Or Sell him to Ramdev Baba for advertising his miraculous cure for the swine flu. Or just turn him over to the pigs. Let them have the last say.
5. Keep aware and recognise any abnormal symptoms. If you are in doubt, go seek professional advice from the Health centre.
5) DO I HAVE THE SWINE FLU? YAHOO! ANSWERS-
1. I’m a 27 yr old participant in a Jungle survivor series. Just the other day I was showering under the waterfall. And now I am sneezing and getting the body chills.Guys is this swine flu?
2. Yesterday at the supermarket we were standing next to a pork chops stand. ZOMG! Do I have swine flu??!!
3. I fell off the bike. My face hit the pavement and now my nose feels all squishy. Could this be swine flu?
4. There was no power here. I was reading this in a dark room with no fan. It was totally hot and I was sweating like a pig. Is that a symptom of swine flu??
6) RELATED STUFF-
1. Research Papers to Read: Pigs Can Fly - A detailed research by Mr. Wodehouse into the evolutionary links between pigs and birds and how their genomes support interchangability of diseases.
2. Music to listen to: Will Smith- Get piggy with it
Pink Floyd- Pigs on the Wing
Pink Floyd- Pigs (three different ones) – dedicated by the Big Bad Wolf
3. Games to play:
i) Pigtionary
ii) Pig pong
7) DOWNLOAD SQUAD GUIDE TO SWINE FLU '09-
And now the only serious business in this entire article- Sites to go to in case you need some REAL information
CDC H1N1 Page -- The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (located in Atlanta, holla!) is a great source for H1N1 information for individuals and communities. The site is frequently updated and links to other world agencies and organizations.
PandemicFlu.gov -- This site is maintained by the US Department of Health and Human Services (HHS) and aggregates information from the CDC, WHO and other organizations.
World Health Organization -- The UN's World Health Organization (WHO) has a dedicated H1N1 site with media information, latest news and official WHO reports.
Food and Agriculture Organization -- Similarly, the UN's FAO is focussed on background information on H1N1, and is monitoring the situation.
“Sometimes I lie awake at night, and ask, 'Where have I gone wrong?' Then a voice says to me, 'This is going to take more than one night.'”- Original Miss Piggy qoute
Monday, September 7, 2009
The design of justice
By R. Lakshminarayan
Dedicated to Contra (Nisheet Pandey) who can kill the best character in a story with panache.
Synopsis
Every lawsuit is a game. A game of reason where the wheel of justice turns around to quash all evil, while stringently upholding the truth. Some cases are tried at the discretion of a jury. Some lawyers build cases on moral grounds eloquently playing the “race card”. Some lawyers free criminals on the basis of reasonable doubt or insufficient evidence. However, in all cases we believe that justice has been served. In the whole process, we all seem to forget the greater design. The design of Justice. It works on everyone. It waits for the right time. It may not be served immediately but it upholds itself on Judgment day. Still, at the end of the day we still wonder: Is this Just?
Prologue
John William Sweeney opened his suitcase and looked into it with tired eyes. He was fighting this case for his brother, who was charged for murder in the first degree. Nervously, he placed the suitcase on the table and sat down on the chair to meditate. This was a part of his therapy. He moved his head sideways and twitched his neck after a while. The Courtroom was going to be in session in an hour but he liked to get accustomed to his surroundings better. This was his third case and probably his toughest. His brother, Marcus William Sweeney, was the top lawyer of the firm Sweeney, Lewiston and North. Being the named partner of a law firm is not an indicator of hard work and dedication. It requires skills which only a prodigy like Mark could possess.
Marcus William Sweeney was no doubt a legend in his field. He could make the jury shed tears for a rapist with his closing statement, embroiling the accused in a veil of innocence
Mark was not only popular in the District of Massachusetts, but his exploits made him an international figure thanks to the famous Nazi war criminal trial for crimes against humanity of Herman Goering vs. the Republic of Israel in 1967. Astonishingly, Goering was found “not guilty” by the international jury of the World War II tribunal which resulted in public outcry as well as critical acclaim for Mark(Goering was later hunted down and killed by Israeli intelligence: Mossad).
Today, Mark was implicated in the murder of an abusive husband, who had died due to head injuries sustained from a blunt object. What was even more intriguing about this case was that Mark had never been charged with any crime throughout his illustrious career as a lawyer. There were three eyewitnesses to the crime scene. The wife of the deceased was the only direct and strong witness to the crime. The Boston Police Department was not even sure about Mark’s involvement in the crime. In fact, Mark had come forward and surrendered to the police voluntarily. He was neither related to the deceased nor his wife and to assume that he committed the crime with a motive was clearly baseless. The police were seemingly baffled and yet content with the fact that they didn’t have to go on a mad hunt to nail the killer. It was an open and shut case for them but the chief of police confessed to the media that he had never before witnessed an absurd and confusing case as this one.
Chapter I: Mark William Sweeney vs. the State of Massachusetts
John’s mind was speeding into darkness. His largely unsuccessful stint as a lawyer was again under the scanner. It was surprising that the brother of the top lawyer in the United States was the worst at getting clients. Not many knew that his brother Mark had never considered him worthy of anything. When John applied for the position of a legal associate at Sweeney, Lewiston and North, his resume was flung at his face by his own dear brother. Mark had also told him that he could probably defend a rotten pig for inhabiting a junkyard. And yet, here he was, in the district court defending his prolific brother for a murder charge, a charge which could send Mark to the chair of death. John could never understand why his brother Mark had asked him to fight the case. Was Mark playing a trick on him? Even as a child Mark made him feel impotent and weak.
They were brothers of destiny. Looking at them, one would think they are twins. They shared the same birthday but Mark was elder to John by 2 years. Also, Mark was about an inch taller than his younger brother. But people never noticed such subtle differences when they were seen in isolation. The real question in everybody’s mind was “why did Mark Sweeney, the best lawyer in town, choose his distraught and unskilled brother for defending him in a murder trial?” Was this the family reunion of the decade? Did they forget their social differences for the sake of brotherhood?
Chapter 2: The Case
All Rise. Honorable Judge William Madison will preside over the proceedings. Case number 1021: Mr. Mark William Sweeney vs. the State of Massachusetts on the murder in the first degree of Mr. Jason Rodham Rush.
Judge: Am I to understand that the defendant will be represented by Mr. Jonathan William Sweeney?
John: Yes your honor.
Mark (callously): Ditto, Your honor.
Judge: Mr. Mark Sweeney, Let me make this clear to you. You shall not use such words in my court and you shall not resort to any antics or I shall hold you in contempt. Is that clear?
Mark: (smiling deviously) Sure your honor. Since my brother is fighting this case, I just think that he may be far too dumb to even make such comments.
The Judge glared at the defendant with his bloodshot eyes as John still stood with his eyes fixated on his brother. Mark never had any real respect for John but he never expected such harsh words in front of the whole court room infested with media.
Judge: I would also remind the media that they are not to make any noise which could lead to their eviction from the courtroom. I shall now hear from the District attorney.
District Attorney Alan Harper was a seasoned lawyer in his forties. He had lost all his cases against Mark Sweeney and in the course of time, had developed an acute dislike for him and his manipulative tactics. He wouldn’t leave this chance to nail his nemesis. In fact, even before the case was put up, Harper launched himself into the police chief’s office for the case details. This was his redemption, his judgment day.
DA Alan Harper: May I please the court, the defendant is accused of murder in the first degree…
Mark: Your honor, I request you to waive off the reading. The defendant wants to plead not guilty.
Judge: Mr. Mark Sweeney, let your lawyer do the talking. Am I to understand that you feel inadequately represented?
Mark: Your honor, my brother is a moron. He should be sitting in an elementary school right now but I interjected on my behalf as I think Mr. John Sweeney doesn’t even have the balls to stand up without wetting his pants.
Judge (angrily): Sit down Mr. Sweeney. I am warning you.
Mark (smiling): Why are you getting angry? I haven’t even started talking about your sexually deviant wife yet.
Judge (furiously strikes his gavel on the table): Mr. Sweeney, enough! One more word from your mouth and I will hold you in contempt.
Mark (still smiling): Thank You, your Honor for your kind words.
Judge: The Jury shall hear the case at 2 PM in this court. Till then, we are adjourned.
Chapter 3: Lies
As Mark and John made their way out of the courtroom cutting through the media’s glare and questions, John seemed to be in a state of humiliation. They sat in a car and Mark gave a big annoying grin to his brother.
Mark: Johnny, What the hell were you doing in the court? When will you get your ass off the chair?
John: Why did you paint me as an idiot in front of the cameras?
Mark (sarcastically): Oh. Now you are the big personality. Wait a Minute. We are fighting a murder trial here. We are not advertising for ladies lingerie out there.
John (angrily): What gives you the right to make me look like a fool?
Mark: Well, let us rewind here. Why did you have to bang the victim’s wife in the first place? You piece of shit, I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t swinging your bell in married homes.
Flashback (three months before the murder)
(John and Joanna in bed)
John (panting): When is your husband coming home?
Joanna (smoking): He is out washing hotel bathrooms with his dirty hands. I won’t let that dirty pig touch me ever. (Tears welling up on her calm and pale face) He should die. He should die for all eternity.
John: Shh. Shhh… Don’t cry. Don’t cry. I can’t see this beautiful face spoiled by tears. How can this piece of shit treat you like this?
Joanna: He treats me like a whore. He comes in drunk and swings his priced bat at me. He should die. (Bursting into tears of repression)
John: File for divorce. I will fight your case. Let me do it.
Joanna: Divorce. After two years of painful beating is that what I deserve? And then what? He doesn’t have a penny in his social security savings. I will still be a whore in the eyes of the world. (Suddenly her face lights up) I know how to do it. I know how to finish this off. Then we can go to Venezuela. My aunt stays there. Only you can do it. Only if you love me enough.
John: I will do anything for you. That bastard can never touch you again.
Chapter 4: May I please the court
1:55 PM (Present day)
John stood watching the fountain outside the courthouse. This was getting difficult for him. Mark was having lunch at Pencant’e de royale with his associates discussing new clients and making executive decisions. Why did Mark take up the blame? What is he achieving here?
2:00 PM
John: May I please the court. I have already submitted the witness list, your honor. On behalf of my client, I would like to plead not guilty to the charges leveled against him, on the grounds of insufficient evidence.
Mark: Objection, your honor.
Judge (whimsical): What?? You cannot object to your own plea.
Mark: Your honor. Request consultation with my lawyer.
Judge: Granted. Please resolve this issue Mr. Sweeney. The court will not tolerate your stupid antics in future.
(Mark walks up to John and grabs him by the arm.)
Mark: (whispering angrily) what the hell are you doing? Insufficient evidence? I surrendered for god’s sake. Get your act together, will you?
John: (nonchalantly) what? I just thought of raising reasonable doubt in front of the jury.
Mark: We are not playing that trick. I want this my way. You play along or I tell the court how stupid you are.
John: (grudgingly) Ok.
Mark: Your honor. Request for recess.
Judge: Mr. Sweeney. We just had lunch. Why the hell do you want recess now?
DA Alan Harper: Your honor. The defense is playing mute.
Judge: I am not blind Mr. Harper. You don’t need to point out every lunatic step in this case. I shall grant you 10 minutes recess Mr. Sweeney, but I warn you, you are punishing my patience here.
Chapter 5: The right defense
Mark: You stupid screw-up. What the hell do you think we are running here? A chicken factory? I have confessed to the crime, and yet, you want to prove insufficient evidence. Don’t you just get it? Is this what they taught you at your stupid third grade law school?
John: (trembling) I just thought I could play the reasonable doubt card. The jury will love it. We are practically identical twins. I can show them that I could have been the murderer. In law school they always say you don’t need to catch the real criminal. You just have to prove that your client didn’t commit the crime.
Mark: Yeah. Only if I hadn’t gone and confessed, you lousy junkie. (Yelling) WHAT THE HELL DO YOU… (Calms down) You know we are not identical. We are just reflections. The only difference is that your pea sized brain is not even good enough to distinguish between a spoon and a fork. You are a disgrace. Our parents should have drowned you in our backyard pool. Heck, I should have done it. What a fool. Shit. From now on, I am writing your lines. Follow my instructions and words and don’t you dare deviate from them. I have prepared a list of lines which you will use in court. Do you get that, you half bred mongrel? (Yelling) Did you get that?
Flashback (19 years back)
(John and Mark are playing in their room.)
Mark: Hey Johnny. Come on, give me your finger.
(John gives his finger reluctantly)
(SNAP! Mark breaks little John’s finger with anger)
Mark: Never touch my stuff again. You get it? Play with your own shitty toys.
(John starts wailing in pain. He cries for help. He calls his mom incessantly. Suddenly, Mark picks up a razor blade from his pocket and looks at John with a deviant smile and then runs the razor through his own palm thrice. Blood starts dripping from Mark’s hands. John looks in horror and stops crying. Why did Mark hurt himself? As their mother comes running towards them, Mark suddenly hugs John.)
Mark: Mommy. He didn’t do it on purpose, don’t hurt Johnny. He didn’t do it on purpose.
Mother: What did you do Johnny? What happened?
(Mark shows his blood drenched palm with a blunt face. Mom also notices a blood stained razor on the ground)
Mark: Don’t hit him mother. He didn’t do it on purpose.
Mother rushes ahead and slaps John who is unable to understand the turn of events. She then picks up Mark to dress his wounds. While leaving the room with his mother, Mark turns towards John wearing a sly smile on his face. John sits alone with a broken finger and a red face, still unable to conceive what had actually happened.
Chapter 6: Witness
DA Alan Harper: The prosecution calls its first witness, Mr. Engleworth, neighbor of the deceased Mr. Jason Rodham Rush.
Reader: Sir, Please take the stand. Do you solemnly swear in the name of god that thou shall speak the truth no matter what?
Engleworth: I do.
DA Alan Harper: Mr. Engleworth, Will you tell the court how the events transpired on the night of 2nd December 1990. Please do not miss out any details.
Engleworth: I heard some shrieks at around 10:15 PM. I was taking my nap and I was startled by the noise. I have heard these shrieks before at around the same time. But this time the cry was more painful. It sounded big, you know.
DA Alan Harper: Were these shouts of help coming from the victim Mr. Jason Rush’s house.
Engleworth: Yes. I’m sure about that.
DA Alan Harper: (looking at the jury) Please continue.
Engleworth: I crept to my window and tried to peek into my neighbor’s house. The lights were turned off and I couldn’t see anything. But I heard several thud like sounds, like somebody was being beaten or like someone was being thrashed.
DA Alan Harper: Did you raise an alarm or go to their house to inspect.
Engleworth: No. How could I? I am an old man. I have several prostrate problems. (Turns to face the jury) You see I am on these life saving drugs and I am afraid that I may fall down if I move too much. I just don’t want to strain myself. If I were younger I would have gone to inspect the house myself. Being a world war veteran, I like to have things under my control.
Judge: Mr. Engleworth, don’t recite your stories. Keep your answers specific to the questions.
DA Alan Harper: What else can you tell us Mr. Engleworth?
Engleworth: Well, I waited for long by my window. Then after an hour or so a figure appeared. It was a man. Just like the defendant. Then he sat in his car and drove away.
DA Alan Harper: Did you see the car Mr. Engleworth.
Engleworth: I didn’t have my glasses on so I could not see the number on his plates, but it looked like a Mustang.
DA Alan Harper: Thank You Mr. Engleworth. Defense’s witness.
(John rose from his seat and looked at Mark, who was quietly resting on his chair with a look of amusement on his face.)
John: Mr. Engleworth, The shrieks you heard. Were they the shrieks of a woman in distress?
Engleworth: Yes, as I said I have heard them before but…
John (interrupting): Mr. Engleworth, You said you stood for half an hour by the window. Why didn’t you come out of your house instead?
Engleworth: Like I said I was never sure if I would be able to walk across my …
John (interrupting): Mr. Engleworth, do you realize that if you lie in this court you may be committing perjury. Did the prosecution tell you to render these details or are you making them up yourself.
Engleworth: Well, well, you are a young scoundrel. I am a war veteran Mr. Legal pants, treat me with some respect you imbecile.
John: Mr. Engleworth, How old are you?
Engleworth: I am 85.
John: And you wear glasses, don’t you?
Engleworth: Yes I do.
John: How can you be sure that the person who came out of the house was the defendant and not someone else?
Engleworth: Of course it was him. My garage lights are always on. I could see his…
John: Can you tell whether it was the defendant or me? Can you say for sure Mr. Engleworth?
Mark: Objection your honor?
Judge: You cannot object to your own defense Mr. Mark Sweeney.
John: Can you say for sure that it wasn’t me who exit the house that night.
Engleworth: Well you both look like twins but I am sure it was the other fellow.
DA Alan Harper: Objection your honor. The defense is playing tricks.
Mark: For once I concur with Mr. Harper, your honor. May I speak to my lawyer this instant?
Judge: OK. This is getting ridiculous now. I will adjourn the proceedings. We will start the proceedings tomorrow at 11 AM sharp. And Mr. Mark Sweeney, please consult your lawyer “before” you defend yourself in court. The court is adjourned.
Chapter 7: In the car
Mark: What the hell were you playing there Johnny? I told you not to choose that line of defense. There is no reasonable doubt that I committed the crime. I confessed remember.
John: Confessions are not admissible to the court under section 34...
Mark: Shut up. SHUT UP you piece of shit. Do you want me to go ahead and tell the police that you killed Mr. Rush? Then you would be against me. And I will bring out all your dirty secrets. Do you want me to tell the court, how you used to fuck Mr. Jason Rush’s wife? You want me to tell them, don’t you?
John: Then you would have lied to the court. You would have committed perjury.
Mark: I haven’t even taken the stand yet, you moron, which means I am immune to perjury. The DA will have to reverse the case on you. Plus I will act as their witness if you don’t shut up and listen to me. As I told you, I will choose the path. I will plead the “right to protect an innocent”.
John: Why? So that the press portrays you as a hero?
Mark: No, you rotten sewer hole. I am doing this to save your pathetic ass. Do you understand me Johnny boy?
John: (silent)
Mark: Yes, just as I thought. You never had the balls to pull this off Johnny and you never will have. That is why they call me the justice man of America. I am taking over the case now Johnny. You can watch and learn from the expert. The jury will cry for me. Wait till you see me in action
Flashback (the night of the murder 10:14 PM)
Joanna: He shall come in any moment. I shall cry for help when you start hitting him. This way people will think he is hitting me.
John: Does he really hit you everyday?
Joanna: What do you mean? Where do you think I got these scars from? Shh… shh he is coming.
Mr. Jason Rush enters his house using his key and suddenly the power goes out. John swings the baseball bat on Rush’s head using all the force he can gather. Mr. Rush falls to the floor. He moans and tries to get up. By this time Joanna has started crying for help. John swings again in a fit of impulse. He then keeps swinging till blood sprays from Mr. Rush’s head. Joanna is still crying and John keeps hitting the head till some fragments of brain and skull fly across the room. Then he stops. Joanna stops crying. There is silence. John is suddenly overtaken by remorse and fear. He has never killed a person before. He trembles and drops the bat on the floor.
Joanna: There, you did it. You freed me darling. I don’t have to live in a prison anymore. (Sees John’s pale face) What is it Johnny? You saved me. We can now run away to Venezuela. I have his life insurance cover. No one can stop us now. Why are you worried? I have his will he left the house to me. I have already sold it to some tenants. Look at me Johnny.
John: I have never killed anyone.
Joanna: You did it for my protection. You saved an innocent.
John: But we planned this. We planned the whole murder.
Joanna: I love you Johnny. Do you love me? You didn’t commit a crime. You saved us both. We can live in peace. We are one now.
John: No. No. I killed him. (Starts weeping) I killed a man. Oh god! I killed a man.
After half an hour of self incrimination John starts running towards the door.
John: (with swollen eyes and anxiety) I have to run. Oh my God, I have to run.
Joanna: Johnny, wait. Wait Johnny. I love you Johnny.
John rushes outside to his car and speeds away while Mr. Engleworth watches in amazement and confusion from his window.
Chapter 8: Motive
Mark: Your honor. There is a slight change in the proceedings. I will defend myself. My lawyer will second chair.
Judge: Does the prosecution have an objection? If you have, you may speak now.
DA Alan Harper: None your honor. I am a fan of Mr. Mark Sweeney’s antics. There is nothing better than watching a clown show his tricks.
Judge: You may continue, Mr. Sweeney.
Mark: Thank You, Your Honor.
DA Alan Harper: Prosecution calls Sergeant James Thomas Billow of the Boston Police Department.
(Sgt. Billow takes the stand and the oath)
DA Alan Harper: Sir, What was your hypothesis on inspecting the crime scene?
Sgt. Billow: Well Sir, The fact is that we never knew about the murder before Mr. Sweeney showed up in the morning at the police station.
DA Alan Harper: Well then, what did Mr. Sweeney tell you?
Sgt. Billow: He said he had been driving through that street on the night of 2nd December 1990. Then he heard some shrieking sounds in the neighborhood and he stepped out of his vehicle in order to inspect the chaos. Then he heard some crying noises again. He identified the house and rushed into it. The door was unlocked which was later confirmed through the wife of the victim. He then picked up a 1986 wood class baseball bat and struck the victim Mr. Rush, on the head, thrice. He also claimed that the victim did not fall unconscious and was also attacking Mr. Sweeney, which compelled him to swing the bat again. This time however, the blow was fatal.
DA Alan Harper: Did Mr. Sweeney tell you precisely what compelled him to commit the crime?
Sgt. Billow: Yes Sir, he did. He said he was protecting an individual from domestic battery. In fact, he pointed out several sections in the law and the bible which justified the use of force to protect innocent people. He also claimed to have no contact with the victim or his wife, prior to this encounter, which made his cause of action legally unprecedented. He claimed that he was doing it to protect the woman, but also intended to render Mr., Rush unconscious so that he could be apprehended by the appropriate authorities. He confessed to the crime quite voluntarily which made it easier for us to investigate the crime scene. The wife of the victim was in shock and could confirm only some parts of the story.
DA Alan Harper: Sergeant Billow, Did you ever ask Mr. Sweeney, why he didn’t call the Police department immediately after the crime.
Sgt. Billow: He claimed that the phone line in the house was dead as was the nearest telephone booth. We confirmed this too.
DA Alan Harper: Sgt. Billow, I am now compelled to ask you, did you ever wonder why Mr. Sweeney didn’t rush to the police station on the night of the murder. In fact, records show that he waited till dawn to construct and justify a decent story. Isn’t that true Sergeant?
Mark: Objection, Speculative.
Judge: Sustained.
DA Alan Harper: Sergeant, did you ask Mr. Sweeney as to why he appeared at the police station only in the morning?
Sgt. Billow: We did Sir. But he said it was a cold chilly night and he was feeling tired. He felt that he could go home and sleep. Since we had his confession anyway, this delay really did not matter to us.
DA Alan Harper: Let me ask you this Sergeant. Do you believe in God?
Sgt. Billow: Yes Sir, I do.
DA Alan Harper: Do you believe this fairytale story Mr. Sweeney told you?
Sgt. Billow: Well Sir, I have to say that we bought Mr. Sweeney’s story completely when we saw the crime scene. But the only thing that came to my mind was fingerprints. I had a doubt at one point when I saw that the bat had no finger prints. I just felt it could be a well planned murder if the assailant was so particular that he left no finger prints. That is precisely why we charged him with murder in the first degree.
DA Alan Harper: You think Mr. Sweeney planned this? (Facing the jury) You mean he didn’t do it to save an innocent soul?
Sgt. Billow: That is what we felt after our investigation.
DA Alan Harper: Thank you Sgt. Billow. Defense’s witness
Mark: Sgt. Billow wasn’t it embarrassing for the Boston police department that they never came to know about the murder in the first place. They only came to know about it after I confessed. Doesn’t that make you feel incompetent, Sgt. Billow?
DA Alan Harper: Objection Your honor, irrelevant.
Judge: Sustained. Sergeant, you need not answer that question.
Mark: Sgt. Billow. How cold was the night of 2nd December? Just give me a rough idea.
Sgt. Billow: Well it was cold sir. Quite chilly I suppose. We had snow cover in most parts of the city.
Mark: Well in that case, Sgt. Do you wear a coat or a blazer when you feel cold?
DA Alan Harper: Objection your honor. What is the defense trying to achieve here?
Mark: That will be clear very soon your honor.
Sgt. Billow: Well yeah. I do wear a jacket to keep myself warm. In fact we wear boots, woolen trousers, thick caps and gloves to keep …
Mark: In that case, Sergeant. Is it very hard to believe that I might be driving my car wearing a pair of woolen gloves?
Sgt. Billow: Not at all Sir.
Mark: In fact, is it not possible that due to the escalating chain of events, I might have still adorned the gloves while holding the bat?
Sgt. Billow: It is possible sir.
Mark: (looking at the jury) I never thought the DA could stoop to such levels in order to make me look like a paid assassin. Mr. Harper here would have wanted my fingerprints on the bat. It is a crime to even wear gloves now. Please vote for our next presidential candidate Mr. Alan Harper.
(Laughter in the courtroom)
Judge: Order, order. Is that all Mr. Sweeney?
Mark: yes your honor.
DA Alan Harper: The prosecution has no more witnesses your honor.
Chapter 9: Joanna
Mark: The defense calls Mrs. Joanna Rush to the stand.
(Joanna steps to the stand and takes her oath)
Mark: Mrs. Rush, Did your husband abuse you repeatedly?
Joanna: Yes. He used to beat me with his bat after coming home drunk.
Mark: As Mr. Engleworth pointed out, do you cry for help when this happens.
Joanna: (tears) Yes I do. But nobody comes for help.
Mark: Mrs. Rush, on the night of the murder, was your husband beating you?
Joanna: Yes
Mark: Then what happened and I request you to address the court.
Joanna: (pointing to Mark) this man came to my rescue that night. Our door was open and he barged in to calm things down. Then my husband swung his bat at him. In an act of self defense Mr. Mark Sweeney here grabbed the bat and pulled it away from my husband’s control. Then he swung it once at my husband’s head to knock him out. (Now almost sobbing) But my husband did not stop. He lunged at this helpful man and tried to attack him with his fist. (Pause) (Wipes her tears)
Mark: Then what happened?
Joanna: Then Mr. Mark swung his bat again and my husband dropped dead.
Mark: What did you feel after that?
Joanna: I felt free. Mr. Sweeney had liberated me. (To the jury) I had an abusive husband and I was too afraid to complain to the police. He threatened to kill me one night because he felt I was not faithful to him.
Mark: Do you hold any grudge against me Mrs. Joanna?
DA Alan Harper: Objection. Manipulative, your honor.
Judge: Overruled. Answer the question Mrs. Joanna.
Joanna: No. On the contrary I was happy that Mr. Mark came to my rescue. (Facing the jury) I just hope there are people out there who can hear our cries. There are millions of us suffering…
Judge: Mrs. Rush, I understand your emotions but please keep your answers short.
Joanna: Yes, your honor.
Mark: Then what happened?
Joanna: Mr. Mark asked me if I was alright. Then he tried to call 911. But my phone was out of order. Then Mr. Sweeney asked me if there were any phone booths around. I then recalled that there was one at the corner of the 90th street. As he was leaving the house, I remembered that the phone booth was out of order. Mr. Sweeney then comforted me and told me that everything will be fine. He then left the house.
Mark: Have you ever seen me before, Mrs. Rush? And do address the court.
Joanna: No. Mr. Mark Sweeney came out of nowhere to save me.
Mark: Thank You, Mrs. Rush. Defense rests your honor.
Judge: Would the prosecution like to cross-examine the witness?
DA Alan Harper (nods his head and gets up): Quite a story, I must say Mrs. Rush. First, I would like to extend my congratulations to you for the receipt of your husband’s insurance claim. His death has made you a millionaire I guess.
Mark: Objection. Irrelevant and despicable.
Judge: Sustained.
DA Alan Harper: You say that your husband abused you physically. Why didn’t you register a complaint with the police?
Joanna: I tried. The police refused to file my report.
DA Alan Harper: Oh now you are making stories Mrs. Rush. I suppose you never went to the police.
Mark: Objection. Speculative.
Judge: Sustained.
DA Alan Harper: (with anger) how much did Mr. Sweeney pay you to tell this story Mrs. Rush?
Mark: Objection your honor.
DA Alan Harper (not listening to anything): You come up with a nonsensical false story and you try to defend Mr. Sweeney as your hero. How much did he pay you Mrs. Rush?
(The court is in mayhem. People start whispering simultaneously. There are hushed voices all over)
Mark: Objection your honor.
DA Alan Harper: Don’t you show your sorry face to me Mrs. Rush. The court knows you are lying. Tell me the truth. How much did he pay you?
(More hushed whispers)
Judge: Order, Order. Silence or I will throw all you journalists out.
Joanna: (with determination) Mr. Harper, you never got a beating from my husband. Do tell me when your spouse thrashes you. Then we will talk about the money Mr. Sweeney paid to save your ass.
(The court falls silent)
DA Alan Harper: The prosecution rests your honor.
Judge: Ok. I will have a recess. We shall proceed with your closings after the recess. The court is adjourned.
Chapter 10: Reason
All this time John never understood a word of what was going on. He gaped at the whole thing like a monkey in a bathing suit.
Mark: Well, Johnny that was swell, wasn’t it? Why are you looking at me like a chimp? Ha-ha.
John: How did you build up all this? How did you create this stuff? I never called the police.
Mark: Ha-ha. That my friend is great lawyering. Don’t you get it? That is why I am rich and you are poor. You need to plug the holes Johnny. But I must say the woman you are sleeping with has her brains in the right place. A meeting with her before today’s trial was amazing. You are too dumb to be even seeing her. Without her heart rendering testimony none of this would have happened. The DA must be banging his head on the desk by now. Hah! That sucker.
Flashback (meeting before the trial at Joanna’s residence)
Mark: May I come in Mrs. Rush. I am Marcus Sweeney, the supposed murderer of your husband.
Joanna: Yes. Please do. Sir, I am confused as to why you are standing for the trial? Why are you taking the blame for the murder?
Mark: Well let’s just say that I love Johnny. (Winking) Don’t you? But more than that, Johnny never had the balls to stand up for himself.
Joanna: I am sure you are in my house regarding the case?
Mark: Well yes. But I cannot help but admiring your body Mrs. Rush. It just makes my blood flow in several places
Joanna: (crossing her arms) May we please discuss the trial?
Mark: Sure. First, I heard you got your husband’s insurance claim. Was a hell of a lot of money? What are you going to do with it?
Joanna: I am planning to go to Venezuela to stay with my aunt.
Mark: Is that so? Okay. So Mrs. Rush, I am sure you must have heard about me in the papers. I am a very tough lawyer. I only look at important details. Like, was your phone out of order that night?
Joanna: No. I had severed my phone connection about 2 weeks before the murder.
Mark: Well then the case is open and shut. For your information, the nearest phone booth to your place in 90th street has been out of order for weeks too. Do you understand what I am trying to imply here?
Joanna: Yes. You are placing yourself in the crime scene and breaking all exit points for the prosecution.
Mark: So intelligent, and yet you sleep with my brother. Come to my place I will show you how the rich live and reproduce.
Joanna: Just tell me what I have to do in the witness stand. I just don’t want Johnny to go to prison.
Chapter 11: Closing statements
DA Alan Harper: Members of the jury. What we witnessed today was not only a trial for prosecuting a murder suspect but also a trial where killing a man was justified as an act of God. It has desensitized the issue of homicide. What kind of a world are we living in? A person who breaks into some home to kill a man and justifies it as an act of goodwill is not only committing a crime against humanity he is also bending the law at his whim. All you 12 people sitting here to pass a judgment on Mr. Mark William Sweeney very well know that this murder was not out of pity, but out of rage. Well the next time I kill someone I will just say that he or she was trying to kill me. Then I will walk across the street to buy an eyewitness. Does the defense think that we are foolish enough to buy his ill constructed story? Well, I am not convinced. Even if the 12 of you are, think about the way this crime was committed. It was cold blooded. The weapon was struck on the victim’s head at least 10 times. What is even more compelling is that Mr. Sweeney claims that he wore gloves to protect himself from the winter. Oh, come on now Mr. Sweeney that is not even close to an excuse. Mr. Sweeney took matters into his own hands. He planned the murder and made a deal with Mrs. Rush. He will refuse it. I mean, won’t we all refuse that we took a small down-payment to finish a convenient job. Murder for money. The wife plans redemption. She gets a top lawyer to iron out the legal wrinkles and goes home with a million dollars. Mr. Sweeney is a cold blooded murderer. We all know what the law dictates under such circumstances. Today, I ask the 12 of you to punish an act which has so blatantly been portrayed as noble. I ask you today to respect that law you uphold and punish this man.
Mark: My brother was 10 years old when he got into a fight. He was fighting a 15 year old large bully and was obviously losing heavily. Both of us were extremely small compared to the bully but in my heart I felt that the two of us could take him. I entered the fight and together we drove the bully away. Members of the jury, that day taught me a lesson. Stand up to injustice. I was moving through the 89th street that night to reach home early. People like Mr. Harper here, may feel that I wasn’t supposed to be there. But fate made me take that road that night. When I heard the cries of a helpless woman I knew that helping her was the right thing to do. In fact, even the police never did the right thing. They have never even considered coming to Mrs. Rush house to see the extent of abuse her husband was inflicting on her. Well, I was there to help her and so I did. A man died. Yes, a man died. But did he die because of my rage? No. As you all heard Mrs. Rush vouches that I did so to protect myself. If I could have knocked the man unconscious wouldn’t I have done that? I had no prior grudge against Mr. Rush and I am not gaining anything from his death, am I? Don’t you think it’s bizarre that I surrendered myself to the police? A planned murder? I did that because I wanted them to know that I did the right thing. Isn’t it bizarre that Mr. Harper comes up with an excellent urban legend to shame an abused, domestic lady? I say he should be a screenwriter. What a plot, what suspense.
I just wanted to help this innocent lady. How dare the prosecution ask me to not stand for what is right. If a man dies doing the wrong thing I say let him die. If a man is tried for doing the right thing, we all know that something somewhere is very, very wrong. Even if you feel that I did the wrong thing I still believe in what I did. Hell, send me to the electric chair. Even if you let me go free and I see someone in distress I will try and help that person. If the bad guy dies during the struggle I would say, so be it. Mr. Harper feels that I am making an excuse for wearing gloves that night. How low can you stoop Mr. Harper, to convict an innocent man? Please tell the court that our army is full of murderers. Why should they defend our country? They are killing human beings, they should fry in hell. They should be cut into pieces and thrown to the dogs. Oh, how does it matter that the enemy wants us dead? We should never kill. Its inhuman, its wrong to save innocent lives, isn’t that what you think Mr. Harper.
Mr. Harper raised the question of morality here. Let me ask him, how moral is it to beat your wife? We stand here today mourning over a person who abused his wife. How noble is that? I still think the world needs to understand the difference between right and wrong as clearly Mr. Harper, an expert practitioner of this profession, feels that saving an innocent, harried and abused person is still immoral if the oppressor is killed. That is all what matters to him. The death of a violent, abusive, drunk husband, who is not a man enough to keep his wife safe. What a pity. What a pity. Save the oppressor. Let the innocent die in pain. She signed up for it. I am afraid to live in this world of violence where a victim is painted as a conspirator. Where a good deed is painted as a convenient job. I don’t want to live in this world anymore. Please do Mr. Harper a favor. Give him what he wants. Let the victims suffer. Let the rapists rape your daughters. You want to stop them? No. Mr. Harper said you cannot kill an oppressor. He is a human too. Why don’t I offer myself for rape? Please rape me. Kill me. I will not complain. Because I cannot complain can I? Because even after you rape me my oppressor should be let free. He was just having fun. Yes, Mr. Harper. Is this the world you want us to live in? Is this the world?
(Silence as Mark returns to his seat)
Judge: Members of the jury will now be excused to confirm the verdict. Till that time, the court is adjourned.
(In the defendant’s chamber)
Mark: (jubilant) How was I?
John: You lied about our childhood. I was the one who got into the fight to save you. How manipulative can you be?
Mark: Hey, Hey, hey, lets not forget who is on trial here. I took the blame for your doings Johnny boy. If we are to lose today I am going to have my ass fried on a chair.
John: You haven’t done me any favor here. You wanted to be the accused.
Mark: Yes. I wanted to be in jail for your crime. I don’t see where I have become less caring or less brotherly.
Flashback (on the night of the murder 11:10 PM)
John nervously dials a number in a phone booth. His hands are trembling. More than anything he was disgusted with himself as he was calling the one person he hated the most.
Mark: Hello? Who is this? Don’t you know the time mister?
John: Marky, it’s me.
Mark: Oh, Johnny my whining brother. What happened? Let me guess. You are broke and you want money. Well, darling you know I don’t give a shi…
John: (interrupting) Marky, I committed a murder.
Mark: hmmm. That is interesting. Whom did you whack? I hope a homeless guy.
John: I didn’t do it on purpose Marky. You know this married woman I was involved with. I bludgeoned her husband. I was not in my senses Marky. Please get me out of this shit.
(A brief silence looms over the phone)
Mark: So you killed a married man? Hmm. Do one thing. Don’t go to the police. Tell me exactly what happened and I shall do the necessary.
John told him the whole account leaving no detail behind. As the conversation was nearing its end Mark had a distinct smile on his face.
Mark: Kiddo. Go to your home and sleep tight. Your brother Marky has everything under his control.
The next day Mark went to the police station assuming the role of a murderer and narrated all the details to the police chief. John never knew that his brother would do something like this. When John got the news of his brother’s arrest, his heart skipped a beat. Was Marky sacrificing himself for me? Why is he doing this?
Chapter 12: the verdict
Judge: Madam Foreperson, Has the jury reached a unanimous verdict?
Madam Foreperson: We have your honor.
Judge: What say you?
Madam Foreperson: In the case of Mr. Marcus William Sweeney vs. the state of Massachusetts, we find the defendant Mr. Marcus William Sweeney, under the charge of murder in the first degree “NOT GUILTY”.
Judge: The court is adjourned. I thank the jury for their services.
Chapter 13: The last conversation
(John is driving the car and Mark is sitting beside him)
Mark: So Johnny. What did you learn today?
John: Try to act over smart and people will love you.
Mark: Shut your beak up. This is what you give me for saving your ass?
John: I didn’t understand one thing Marky. Why did you take the case? In fact why did you implicate yourself?
Mark: Oh Johnny, Johnny boy. You never understand, do you? This is what makes me the best lawyer in town. The true test of a lawyer is when he is asked to defend himself for a crime he has committed. I never had an opportunity like this. The fun, the racing adrenaline, it makes me swoon with amazement. Now I am being hailed as a hero as well. More than that, it was the excitement. To find yourself fighting death against all odds, even after you confess to having committed the crime is breathtaking. My record as a lawyer still stands to be envied. This is my pinnacle. No lawyer could have achieved this. A half breed mongrel like you could never understand this.
John: Well at least, Joanna is happy.
Mark: Ha-ha-ha-ha. Joanna. I still cannot believe that you are in love with a much smarter woman than yourself. You know Johnny that is your problem. You think that whore is a solution to all your failures. Do you really think she loves you? Do you really think she was beaten by her husband? I saw her scars that day. They were 3 years old. Actually, a moron like you could never observe such things.
John: You can call me names Marky, but don’t you dare speak about Joanna like that.
Mark: I will speak about her as I like. That fucking whore nails four or five people at the same time and still she gets a stupid fuck up like you to do her dirty job.
John: (getting angry) I am warning you Marky. Don’t spe…
Mark: Oooh. I am scared now. Who are you gonna call now? Mommy? You know why the whore is going to Venezuela, you numb nut. That is because the United States has no extradition treaty with Venezuela. And you think nailing her every night makes you her soul mate. She is worse than a bitch. But numb nuts like you fall for nymphs like that.
John: (angrily) Mark. Stop talking like that. Or else…
Mark: Or else what. You are going to sell that whore in a market? Well she must have been sold a million times. Probably that is what she does for a living. That fucking whore really got a good deal out of you. How many blowjobs did you get from that slut? Ten? Isn’t that the number of times you swung your bat at poor Mr. Rush.
John: Mark. Shut the fuck up. Shut the fuck up.
Mark: You noisy swine. You get enraged for a whore. All she does is fuck with many fools like you. Yeah, she is damn smart. The bitch made you believe that you are in love. That is no surprise since a fucking dunce like you can fall for a fly giving you a lap dance. You know what love is? Why don’t you crawl up to mommy and suck on her boobs. That is love for you, you imbecile. Anyway, at least Joanna would stop supplying milk for a week. That bitch may even open a whore shop for stupid fucking idiots like you.
(John loses himself and draws Mark’s gun from the glove compartment and shoots Mark in the head. The car skids to a stop. Johnny comes out of the car and drags his brother’s dead body on the empty road.)
John: There is your love. (Shoots another bullet at his head). You feel my brotherly love now Marky, you piece of shit (he empties 4 bullets in Mark’s brain but restrains himself from shooting the last bullet).
(After some time John is unable to stand on his feet and he sinks to the ground with remorse and anger. He weeps by his brother’s body.)
John: (with a choked throat) Why Marky, Why. Why couldn’t you just shut up? Why?
Chapter 14: Venezuela
John drives past Joanna’s house and suddenly stops the car. He must see her. They are leaving tonight for Venezuela. He has to take her in his arms. Oh, how he longed to see her. How much this moment had cost him? All he wanted now was a glimpse of the lovely look on her face.
(As he entered the apartment he called out for Joanna. Suddenly Joanna started shrieking and ran from her bedroom naked to embrace John.)
Joanna: Help me Johnny. Help me. This man is trying to rape me.
John: Who?
An old man: Hey. Who the fuck is this?
(John raises the gun and fires a bullet into the man’s head. The old fellow falls in an instant.)
John: (throws away the empty gun) Baby, Who is this fellow? How did he get in here? Come quick pack your bags. We have a flight to catch.
(As he turns to pack his bags, he finds the chief of police uniform on the floor along with the nameplate and his badge.)
John: (startled) Honey, This old man was the chief of police?
(Then another deadly realization dawns upon him.)
John: Joanna, Why didn’t you shout for help before I entered your apartment?
(As he turns around he finds Joanna holding the chief’s gun against his temple.)
Joanna: Your brother was right, you piece of shit. You really are the dumbest, aren’t you? Why did you even come here?
John: But baby, we have to catch the flight. I love you.
Joanna: What didn’t you understand about me? I do this all the time. Every year, a slain husband makes a posthumous payment for my vacation. You were just the means Johnny. You are cute, but you ain’t the brightest.
John: What are you talking about? I love you baby.
Joanna: Keep your love in your pocket, you idiot. I have had many lovers. May their souls rest in peace.
John: Baby, I love you. Why are you doing this? I love you baby.
Joanna: Yeah, and I loved your shoes Johnny. But I have only one ticket.
(And then she pulls the trigger.)
By
R. Lakshminarayan
Disclaimer: The events and characters in the story are fictitious. Some lines used in the story may not be an accurate representation of actual legal arguments. The author does not vouch for the exact sections in the law quoted above. All matters regarding legal issues cannot be referenced to this story as a legal source.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Announcement 2
JabberWacky suggested that we put some comic strips on our blog. So I am posting one above. Ill ask all d cops to comment on this. If this is to become a regular feature on copslair, lets have a vote. Nada u can use as many expletives as u want if u dont like it, hell..., even if u like it.
Friday, August 7, 2009
live like a tornado..
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Hum Drum
A lot has been happening in my end of the world although I can’t safely say that I have been chronicling it all between late stays at the lab and playing musical rooms during my internship. Nevertheless, I am a strong believer that nocturnal vigilance while a certain I’m-a-cranky-baby-i-need-you-attention-now experiment’s lusty beeps that make you wanna take a sledgehammer to it, could be turned into productive bitch-biting session against all that is wrong with the world and all that could be right.
1. I’m Ogay, you okay? – Last month came as a landmark victory for all the homo/bi/trans sexuals in India, when the Delhi HC decided to amend article 377, making being gay okay! While all the newspapers across the nation churned full front page pictures of homos playing tonsil hockey like there were no tomorrow, the rest of the laity lapped up sob-stories of Celina Jetly’s homo boy-frand and trans make up man (err person?). Closet gays all across the world of fashion and sundry came out to exclaim their eternal love in the open, as your mummy-papa curled up their noses in distaste. During all of this the political parties cry ‘not fair!’ and Lalu Prasad issues sound bytes about how homosexuality “isn’t a part of our culture” and “we must not ape the western countries”, much unaware that Maharajahs getting blow-jobs from boy-servants is a well chronicled fact (or so D tells me , citations needed of course) while a certain eye-flinching caricature of a god man claims that these “diseased” people need to do pranayam to get better (someone please fix that other eye for him, please!). Amidst all of this you are left wondering how vote-bank politics and media footage vultures won’t leave this one million-strong community alone, being hell-bent on criminalizing them for vested interests while hardly knowing much about it at all. I say Peace Ahoy! We could very much do without the clamor against once taking a step towards emancipation of the wronged. If you’re so interested try badgering the government as to why that 26/11 asshole still languishes in AC jails when he should’ve been dispensed with long ago. That might get you more mileage. So thanks, but no thanks.
2. Rape raps- This summer sure has been a bizarre one. You wouldn’t normally get up one morning reading about rape charges against a once-there-now-where? Actor by none other than his very own underage maid! While you’re still dismissing it as an attention stunt, there is news of teary biwis holding press conferences in support and oily public prosecutors getting their 15 seconds of news feed, major news channels interrupt the prime minister’s foreign visit story with “Breaking News” of how the DNA samples of the actor and the swatches from the maid matched! Oh boy, you grumble, of all the silicon-ous women he could have slept with he chose to have “consensual” sex with his bai! Ugh! Dude couldn’t have expected you to make better career choices, but maybe a better choice of bedmates. Ew. Whatever.
3. Fake-book- Rants and raves against Face-book wouldn’t be enough. I’m sure the day wouldn’t be far when one of us decides to sue them for “extreme mental harassment”. Garbage can full of “news” each day on your home page about which fruit/drink/song/condom flavour/previous life nationality represents the various turds you happen to know along the passage of life. Ten to the power a couple million requests to join “mafia wars”, “be my pet” (sounds so predatory), and whatnot while your “friends” poke and throw at each other vampires, baboons, Sheila Dikshit and SS Umare.
In a day and age, when Facebook rules your entire social life and dictates What “type of fungus will thrive in your pubes/ your nasal booger says about you/psychopathic tendencies your child will inherit from you?” and splashes intimate details of your life all over on your ex-lover’s, bosses’, round the corner ganne-wala’s , sexually abusive uncle’s, former-arsonist-now-friend’s walls, I most vehemently implore you to quit quizzing and get a life to further marital harmony, the future of our children,world health, fight against poverty, AIDS, commercialism, global warming , recession etc. Whatever it takes. Thank you.
4. Well the last one doesn’t involve haranguing at all, but much about felicitating Fedex’s reinstatement as the undisputed Lord of all that he surveyed and A-Rod’s performance at the W-finals. Amidst chocolate cravings and down-pour escapings, you felt so lucky to have bustled in to a coffee boutique and have caught the match :D. As a certain Mr. Chops said to me later that evening, “Nothing beats experiencing history live”, I couldn’t agree with him more.
To Roger, may your tribe of gleaming silverware thrive and to you Andy I can only quote Captain Obvious and say "better luck next time".
As they say that no blog is complete without its entry full of complaints and untamed cribs (even if they don’t, I just did), and so this is mine. In the end to quote Oscar Wilde, “This is kick ass”. Have a nice day.
Poet in a one man band
I’m a poet in a one man band,
I sing my rhymes all along the Strand,
With my fedora and guitar I play on the way,
They tell me I’m not as bad as Phoebe Buffay,
Don’t scare me with wars and soaring rates,
I tell ya I don’t need no band mates,
When the sun is bright and tune not trite,
I know I’ll get that perfect song so right,
When they get sick of the noise and balderdash,
All the junk they play at the college bash,
That’s when they come running to the bard,
And ask me to sing a limerick not so hard,
I’m just a poet in a one man band,
I sing my whims all across the land,
With my fedora and guitar I play on the way,
They clap to my songs and dance and sway,
I’m no Avril Lavigne with videos on mtv,
Nor am I struggling to get a break hopefully,
I just sit on my corner stone away from dog pee,
Singing my songs from last night’s binging spree,
When a londoner tosses me a pence,
I say sir please take this back, no offense,
I don’t play for the money or the fame,
Just as free booting off you ain’t my aim,
Coz I’m a poet in a one man band,
Don’t sell my music to you packaged or canned,
With my fedora and guitar I play on the way,
Entertaining you with my poems night and day…
