Ever felt like you had something very important in your mind you just wanted to get out? Something that seemed to be of great significance that you just needed to share with the world?
Well, not me.
All I have is random rants, silly everyday quirks and a whole lot of shit, which just about sums up my life.
Also, don't forget to enter your email id below and click Submit if you want me to drop my shit directly into your inbox!
Err.. No, not literally.


Click here if you want me to drop my shit directly into your inbox! Err.. Not literally.

Thursday, 31 January 2013


Charlie’s eyes skim across the newspaper as he skips from one news article to the next.
They come to a rest on a tiny column which reads:

MIT lab successfully synthesizes possible cancer fighting virus

A hundred and fifty miles away, at the MIT Bioengineering and Biochemical Lab, a bright red light starts blinking above the door of a sealed chamber.

The virus is completely undetectable and untraceable. Originally developed to help battle cancer cells, it starts spreading from person to person though strangely enough, it initially has no visible effects on anyone.

That’s when the first reports start trickling in.

The virus affects only a few people, completely at random, slowly finding its way into the brain of the individual. It increases the release of endorphins in the body as well as boosting the production of adrenaline.
This cocktail of excessive hormones results in these individuals being on a constant rush all the time. Their hearts are always functioning at increased efficiency increasing their physical and
mental capabilities by over fifty percent.

Charlie is affected at an early age and only finds out when the side effects first start kicking him.

Because the same virus that enhances them physically and mentally, also takes over certain parts of the brain, shutting down their ability to reason logically and blurring the lines between imagination and reality. It also completely destroys the part of the brain associated with speech, rendering these people unable to speak.

These infected people start behaving very irrationally and illogically, showing little to no concern for their own or anyone else’s safety. It almost seems as if they all live together in an alternative reality, where they are all invincible and have nothing to fear.
This is obviously risky to themselves as well as to other people.

The President calls for a meeting between some of the brightest minds in the country, from the fields of Biotechnology, Bioengineering, Evolutionary Biology and Virology apart from his Military heads of chiefs.

A unanimous decision is reached to find these people, now referred to as ‘Mutes’ due to their inability to speak, round them up and keep tabs on them to help ensure the general safety of people.
An organization is put in place to find out more about the virus and help find a cure for the people afflicted.

This results in a huge uproar amongst the infected.
It is viewed as an attempt by the government to intrude in the life of its citizens and to control it.
The government views this uproar as an unlawful uprising and starts tightening its reins.
The Mutes, in response to this, split into two groups.

The first group, surprisingly led by Charlie’s childhood friend Ric, is extremely violent in nature, lashing out and hitting back at the government.
They are so convinced of their reality, they do not feel they need a cure.
Rather, they believe the people not affected by the virus are less special than themselves and are not fit to be a part of the new society.

A new society that they will now form.

The other group formed, however, is more peaceful in nature.
Charlie, having recently received Ph.D.s in Genetics, Biophysics and Psychology from Oxford and Pembroke at the astonishing age of eighteen, is the most prominent active member of this group, acting as an unofficial leader and strategist to most of their plans.
He attempts to convince the people trying to cure them of a peaceful future where the Mutes and uninfected humans can live together in harmony.
He is completely oblivious to the risks the Mutes pose to the people around them.

These two factions, thus formed, also stay at loggerheads with each other due to their conflicting beliefs, often resulting in both verbal and physical spars, which sometimes result in casualties from both sides, as well people unaffected by the virus.
The escalating violence forces the government to brand the Mutes as terrorists and proclaim war on both these factions.

And thus, Professor Charles Xavier is forced to lead his group of peaceful Mutes, called the X-Men, into the war that ensues.

Monday, 28 January 2013


James is an eight year old with a near perfect life.

He has a set of extremely caring, affectionate and loving parents. He has always lived a life of luxury and ease. He is extremely close to his parents and enjoys spending time with them, bonding over the tiniest of activities.
Every summer, the three of them take a week off to go on holiday.

One such trip, however, turns from a dream into a nightmare for little James.

They're on holiday in Switzerland. James and his father love skiing, this is their second trip to the Alps.
After a particularly long and tiring, though extremely satisfying day, the three are returning to their hotel in the car they've rented. Snow is pelting down on the roof of the car unrelentingly. His father is driving, while his mum is sitting beside him, playing navigator in the passenger seat.

None of them notice the oncoming set of headlights in the blizzard.

The truck pummels into the tiny car, pushing it off the road and almost off the edge..

“Jump James, jump!” yells his mother and James somehow manages to jump out of the backseat of the car, tumbling onto the road.
The very next moment, the car tips over and rolls off the edge of the road. James can do nothing but watch as the car falls off the cliff and explodes right before his eyes, taking with it the two people who mean the world to him.

A severely traumatized James returns to England, only to find that his parents never created a new will after he was born.

He loses everything.

He is soon transferred to a local orphanage.

The caretakers describe him as a quiet, secretive child with an overactive imagination and a penchant for getting into fights.

He shows a great level of loyalty to a particular group of kids.
These kids behave like the peacekeepers in the orphanage. They help in sorting out fights and resolving disputes. 
They’re led by a girl two years older than James, called Emily.
However, while these kids are only trying to maintain peace in the orphanage, James appears delusional as he claims he is making the world a safer place one ‘mission’ at a time.
James acts like a bodyguard to Em, to the extent of putting himself in harm’s way to defend her.

Nine years have passed since James first came to the orphanage.
He has now becoming increasingly violent and unstable.
He is bordering on depression and severe paranoia.
He thinks everyone is his enemy and trusts nobody anymore.

Ever since Em left the orphanage a year ago, having achieved majority at the age of eighteen, he has developed an extremely disturbing new habit of regularly consuming alcohol.

The caretakers are very worried.
They call a psychiatrist to have a session with James.

Now at an age of seventeen, he isn't at all like the other kids.
He drinks like an adult, pouring his drink out in finite, measured quantities.
Mixing and shaking his liquor like a seasoned drinker.

The psychiatrist sits James down in front of him.
James looks at the psychiatrist square in the eyes.

An unforgiving emptiness in his eyes that makes the old man extremely uneasy, forcing him to lower his gaze.

James sits there, not stirring an inch, daring him to make the first move.

The psychiatrist looks up at him.
“What is your name, son?”

He looks at the old man through icy eyes as he replies,
“The name's Bond, James Bond.”

Note: I know it wasn't humor, it wasn't even poetry, it was quite unlike anything I've ever written.
Do comment, I'd really like feedback on this post as I've got a new idea brewing around this style of writing.

Credits: Aditi, for the brainstorming behind the article.

Friday, 21 December 2012

Error 404: Apocalypse not found

So its the 21st of December 2012.


Wait a minute. Aren't we all supposed to be dead right now?
Isn't it supposed to be doomsday or something?

Is God so lazy that he forgot he's supposed to zap the human race into extinction today? 
Is he such a huge procrastinator that he simply put it off for a while?
Maybe he's sitting and watching cat videos on YouTube right now, saying to himself , "Just one more."
Or maybe it is videos, just not *YouTube*

Can't help but wonder what browser he uses.

Anyways, in the eventuality that this really had been the onset of doomsday, I'd made a handy instruction manual for saving my own ass the survival of the general public . Guess there's no point keeping it in my underwear drawer triple enforced bio-metrically coded super-safe anymore.

Needless to say, I avoid changing my underwear too often.


(Can also be applied to the scenario where there is no Chocolate in the house)

The first step, as even an eight year old child could tell you is also probably the most vital. 
On it, balanced rather precariously, lie your chances of survival.


STEP #1: Pic or it didn't happen!

The first thing to do (obviously) is to update all your social networks so that everyone can know you're still alive and you can poke each other and like photos and and Tweet stuff and pretend LIKE THE WORLD ISN'T FRIGGING ENDING IN FRONT OF YOUR EYES.

You've got something on your face, dude.

Which brings us to the next step in our survival guide. This one's almost a no-brainer and is so obvious I'd be ashamed if you haven't thought of it already.

STEP 2: Enslave an army of battle ready primates for engaging in wars in the post-apocalyptic world

A group of monkeys is called a 'troop'. That should be hint enough to tell you what purpose monkeys have on Planet Earth. 
You now lead a brainwashed suicide army that follows your every order and kills anyone who doesn't give you a slice of their pizza. 

If the Ramayan has taught me anything, its that Vaanar Senas are unbeatable.
This is a whole new level of awesomeness.

Pizza. That reminds me of the three things essential for survival.

STEP 3: The Three Essentials

Beer, Pizza and an XBox 360. Enough said.

These aliens don't stand a chance against my sniper skills.
You're blocking my view dude.

Speaking of console video games involving mindless sex, violence and a general lack of direction, you might also want to stock up on a few Bollywood movies beforehand.

STEP 4: Screw the Law

The world is ending around you. Zombies are chasing you. Volcanoes are erupting everywhere. The Earth shakes every few minutes, each tremor stronger than the last. A plane stands in front of you, about to take off. It will take you someplace safer but there's only seconds before it takes off. You run towards the door, barely managing to grab onto it... 

'The first coach is reserved for women only'

This is not the time to follow laws, you idiot! Just because the light turned red, does NOT mean you wait for the aliens to catch up with your beaten up car!
Ignore the speed limits, overtake from the left, take an illegal turn, drive on the wrong side!
Basically, do what Delhiites do, everyday!

Though its probably safe to assume that some rules do apply, no matter what.

That flammable sign is just a myth. Like Global Warming. And Sachin's retirement.
After this, I'm gonna go stick my finger into an electrical socket

And now for the fifth and final step to surviving doomsday.
*Cue Drum Roll*

STEP 5: Google a Survival Guide that could actually help save your life

I just click on that colorful thing and I get all my answers!
Because Google knows everything.

PS. Whoever traded all my valuables with me for a truck full of monkeys, is there any chance you guys do refunds?

PPS. Is there a safe word I can use to make them stop trying to kill me?

Saturday, 21 July 2012

A Night to Remember

It was around a quarter to twelve last Friday night. My dad was returning home by metro and had asked me to pick him up from the Huda City Centre Metro Station. It wasn't the first time I had picked him up like this, even at this odd hour. I was waiting for him on the other side of the road, right in front of the temple.

Looking behind me, I noticed the Police check post, just a few metres away and wondered what the policemen inside might be up to. However, not much was visible as most of the street lamps were either switched off or not functioning.

Checking the time, I realized it was almost midnight so I called up my dad to find out how much longer he would take. He mentioned that he has already gotten off the train which had just arrived and would take just a few minutes more to reach where I was standing when two guys whom I'd never seen before pulled up on a bike next to me.
At first, being on a call, I didn't realize that they were talking to me. Suddenly, without warning, the one riding pillion shoved me back, catching me completely off guard. Before I could even ask him what happened or what it was he wanted, he got off the bike and I noticed for the first time that he was holding a thick wooden 'lathi', the kind carried around by guards and beat cops. Without a word, he swung the lathi over his head and hit me on my right shoulder. Before I could back off, or even put up my guard, he swung the lathi yet again, this time landing it with a deafening thud, on my head. I could hear his mate, the guy driving, asking him to stop and get back onto the bike. It made no effect whatsoever on the attacker though, who seemed to be drunk and even at that moment, had a cigarette in his mouth.

I was almost paralyzed with shock after the blow to my head and barely had
time to react when he hit me for the third time, once again on the head. It was only after this third blow that I suddenly realized I needed to get away from these people. I started running away from them right away. The guy who had attacked me got back onto the bike to flee but even as they fled, he hit me once again on my right leg. Before I had even realized what had transpired or had recovered enough to note down the registration number of the bike, they were gone. It was only then that I realized my father had heard almost half the incident over the phone. I quickly called him up again, and asked him to get to me as soon as possible. Within a few seconds, he came running across the road to where I was standing, clutching my head. We immediately rushed to Paras Hospital where I was rushed into the Emergency Room.

Six stitches, three x-rays and over two hours later, I finally walked out of the Emergency Room and the Hospital.

The next morning, An Assistant Sub-Inspector from the Sushant Lok Police Station came to my house to collect a formal statement from me as a follow up to the medico-legal case that had been filed by the hospital itself the previous night. He was very helpful but seemed surprised that I had no idea who these guys were. In his opinion the possibility of finding these men was remote as I did not recognise them.

All in all, this was definitely one of the most random acts of completely
unnecessary violence I've ever witnessed or experienced.
Add to this the fact that I was barely a few meters from the Police check post
and one can't help but wonder, is Gurgaon really a so called 'Millennium City' during the daytime, but turns into a nightmare for an ordinary citizen showing its true, ugly face during the night, when most people are fast asleep inside their homes?

- Salil Shahane

Saturday, 28 April 2012

Opening Up

Here's a warning right upfront, this post isn't intended to be funny, inspirational or amazingly creative, it's exactly what the title suggests, Opening Up.

I take an instant dislike for people who lie, cheat or steal.
I know that makes me somewhat of a hypocrite, considering how I've indulged quite a bit in the first, but it doesn't stop me from judging people who do the same.
I am extremely loyal, unless I feel I'm being cheated on, at which point I become immediately disinterested.
I am an expert at completely severing all ties and relations with a person anytime I feel the need to do so, effectively cutting a person out of my life at a moment's notice.
I rarely take interest in anything new but I'm an impulsive addict when I do, which means if there's something or someone I really like, I'll probably ignore the rest of the world for it/that person.

I really enjoy writing, it helps calm me down.
When I'm sad or lonely or if I ever feel confused or lost, I write poetry.
My poetry is never thought out, its always impulsive, it helps me learn a little more about myself with every line I write.
Intriguingly enough, I've realized I never write a poem the way most people do, I usually end up starting with the last stanza, sometimes just the last line.
Almost anything can, and has inspired me to write a poem, it all depends on the state of my mind.

The one thing, though, that never fails to inspire me, is rain.
The color of the sky, as the clouds loom above, dark and menacing.
The roar of thunder, as the rain proclaims its arrival.
The flashes of lightning, illuminating the sky for the briefest of moments.
The pristine raindrops, falling through the sky, landing softly on the ground, as one by one, they cleanse the world of all the grime.

See how I almost lost myself there, just thinking about rain?
Now imagine what happens to me when it's actually raining.
I also occasionally dabble in the field of humorous blogs, rants and sarcasm being the weapons of my choice.

Another fascination I have, is photography.
I call it a fascination and not a hobby or a skill or a passion because that's exactly what it is, a fascination.
What excites me in the field of photography are the mysteries.
Finding out how something was done, exactly how an effect was achieved, maybe even trying my hand it myself.
But I must admit, I don't have the passion for photography that one must possess to pursue, say a career, in that field.

I cannot go through an entire article about myself without mentioning football.
Football has been my first love ever since I first played it in the third grade.
I'm a staunch FC Barcelona fan for the last three years, not only because they have a good team with really amazing players, but also because they are a team I can truly look up to, for their love of football and their respect for the rules that uphold the game.
To me, Puyol is the most underrated player in the world of football and Lionel Messi is my god.

Speaking of god, I have always been a firm non-believer in god.
I'm not an anti-theist, as some people think all of us non believers are. I do not laugh at people who believe god exists, neither do I ridicule those who practice idol-worship, nor do I mock those who believe in the concept of a savior or salvation.
Its a matter of personal beliefs, and I choose only to believe in myself.

The last thing you need to know about me is alcohol.
Whiskey is what I love the most, but I enjoy beer as well.
Sometimes far too much of it, as my friends (and doctors from hospital emergency rooms will tell you).
The problem with alcohol and me is I never back off from a challenge, whether it involves chugging bottles of beer, glasses of whiskey or shots of rum.
I develop an instant slight dislike for people who smoke.

A liar who hates liars.
A loyalist who gives up on people.
Rarely interested, but easily addicted.
A writer who doesn't know how he writes.
Fascinated but not passionate.
Football lover, cricket hater.
A non-believer who believes in himself.
A drunkard who looks down on smokers.

Just about sums me up.
Welcome to my life.