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Tails of Low I.Q.

Flop Fiction!

Karan Virk

(Sixth Pandav)

“Waaaaaaaaaaah (Wooooooooooow) Taj!” is a common quote said by most tourists while witnessing the beauty of Taj Mahal. There must be something in India that makes it the center of attention. Housing 28 states and 7 Union Territories, India is the most diverse country in the world. Every corner of this vibrant country contains a mixture of its share of architecture, regional culture, and crazy issues resulting in mind fracture. This book contains stories cooked with a ‘Desi – Tadka’, sprinkled with Indian Masala.

I have written many of these stories during my school days and hopefully will be wandering the streets of India in future. My earlier ‘Emotional’ Pichkaris (Holi Water Guns) failed to bring me success, while filmmakers like Anurag Kashyap & Sudhir Mishra easily achieve success by exploring the dark depths of human mind. So, I have turned to ‘Low I.Q.’ and started my journey from a new perspective. My pseudonym is “Sixth Pandav” because I relate to (& share my name) with Karan from mythological epic Mahabharata who was a rebel in true sense.

I would like to thank my family, friends, and mentors for their support. My teachers from Kirpal Sagar Academy, Teja Singh Kandhari School, Modern Senior Secondary School, for their teachings. Personal thanks to the online masterminds who helped me gain a vision by analyzing their visions of Comic Groups, Storywrite Website, Allpoetry Website, Blogger Groups etc.

A very special ‘Thank You’ to Mohit Sharma (Trendster / Trendy Baba) without whom this project would have had never been created. He has provided commendable support by helping and guiding me through every part of this ‘Indie’ experience!

- Ivanpreet Singh Virk (Karan Virk)

*) Facebook

www.facebook.com/KaranVirk

*) Official Blog

karanva.blogspot.com/ *) Database Profiles

Yasni: person.yasni.ca/ivanpreet+singh+virk+1213569

© Karan Virk, All Rights Reserved.

1) Trump Jihad

To bring Jihad to its extreme power, Afghanistan based Jihadi groups started creating several branches to support the terrorist movement. To build a stronger monopoly the Masterminded Jihadists built several small Jihadi Camps in order to gain revenue by bullying Little/Developing Countries. But, there were one or two such groups who had lost their glory and were on a verge of a shutdown. Al – Langura is one such group, having lost their respect between their Jihadi peers. Al – Langura’s desperation to rise again has been met with constant laughs and verbal/physical abuse. Now, the Langurs of Al – Langura have a final chance to earn their prestige. They have been ordered to spread Nonstop Jihad in India to show their skills.

Dr. Fakhu, the current leader of Al – Langura is out of resources, weapons, and terrorists. Equipped with his tactical mind and toxic breath he has established a link between Markho – Markho Khan, Suicide Bombing Expert and CFO of Al – Langura via a S.T.D. booth.

Fakhu – Markho – Markho Khan...Did you earn us a point by destroying your last assignment?

Markho – Markho – Polo – Polo Fakhu Man.......Allah doomed our boat, Fakhu! I successfully created a ‘Cow Bomb’ to be detonated in the Private Army Fields to bring a halt in the uprising of new experimental maize, wheat, and sugarcane. Indian Scientists are conducting experiments on these crops to create some Super Soldiers. Your son Chakhu was deployed to carry out this mission. Well, not only Allah but the Indian Army bombarded our boat...While, Chakhu was shooing the cow to graze in the fields. Suddenly a herd of cows and bulls started approaching the fields under the supervision of some farmers. The racist masochists actually allow farmers entry to their top secret research fields. There should be a law or we should inform the U.N. about the mistreatment of Jihadists in developing countries. Now, Chakhu’s eyes started to twitch, his palms became sweaty, his Testosterone Levels reached sky high..He would have had even started doing Al – Danci – Danci in the fields like a protagonist from a Taliban film....Well, he would have had gotten an encore if he was performing like this in Roman fields with the naked statues....Alas our boat sank, just like how Bollywood tries to sink Hollywood by lovingly plagiarizing them. The cow was mixed in the herd. The proper decision right now would have had been to detonate the Cow Bomb....But, Chakhu had accidently fed the cow the Bomb – Remote instead of the bomb. He was holding the bomb.....His pants probably became a mixture of Yellow – Brown Rainbow Mix. He searched the fields trying to locate the remote in marginal piles full of Methane Gases and Cow Dung. Suddenly, out of nowhere the Indian soldiers apprehended him.

Fakhu – HURRAY! So, did the bastard die?...Ahm!...I mean, did he reach Heaven?

Markho – Markho – No, No...he survived.The Army shaved his Osama Beard...Damn, that beard got us so many victories..I didn’t even get to preserve a hair sample. Currently the Indian Scientists are conducting research on Chakhu. They make him wear a Diaper and use him as a puppet to entertain Army Children, Chakhu is forced to wear Gucci, and Armani Underwears and then simultaneously attacked by several animals. Scientists are probably trying to train the Indian animals in recognizing Foreign Products to fight off International Films, Pop stars, Cultural Trends, etc…How are our warriors growing over there?

Fakhu – Markho, our group has evaporated. Tote, the landmine developer exploded while getting stuck inside the Landmine Field. His intestines added a spicy flavor to my noodles. Ack, I steel feel the toxic aftertaste. Our computer experts got beheaded when the other Jihadi camps pranked Egyptian Jihadi General by mailing him his Egyptian Bathroom Rituals. Even, now these bastards are spitting monkey eyeballs and throwing paper airplanes at me. You know what is written on these planes, ‘MY BEARD IS MADE OUT OF COTTON CANDY’....I will get you...You Jihadi Punks...I will kidnap your mothers and insert my bazooka in her Al – Pussy Cat!...Bloody George Bush Lovers. Listen carefully I am parceling our last three terrorists to India. Now go out there and die...I mean, wreck everything and show everyone that males are superior suicide bombers than females.

After 5 days the three langurs were standing in front of Markho – Markho Khan.

Markho – Markho – Stand Up...Hands Down...Ear Up. I am going to attach Bye – Bye Kitty Bombs to your chests. You will be provided with remote controls... This bomb will make a Meow – Meow sound before it blasts. Make sure you scream and tell everyone you are a terrorist and nobody confuses you for a Cat Rapist.

Markho – Markho Khan assigned the three Languri – Jihadists with codenames. Hum Saath Saath Hain was chosen to be the teams name with each Jihadist getting assigned part of the name.

Saath 1 – Sir, there are only three of us here. Who is ‘Hain’?

Markho – Markho – These transmitters are Hain!

Hum, Saath 1, and Saath 2 took the transmitters and started fitting them in their ear wax filled canals.

Markho – Markho – And if under any circumstances Delhi Police catches you and makes you the victims of their Interrogation I am going to give you a cyanide pill.

Hum – Thank Allah. The plastic from airplane food has wrapped onto my intestines creating ulcer.

Hum snatched the cyanide pill and swallowed it. Suddenly, Hum started moving his body like Boy Bands trying to camouflage their hormones in front of Teen Girls. After three minutes Hum had hit the floor.

Markho – Markho – Looks like there won’t be a Hum anymore! Hmm. Saath 1 you are going to blow up the rock concert of She Shu Khan. Dance like a Bollywood Junior Artist from 5^th row behind the Hero and explode into pieces...He he...Adding insult to injury! Saath 2 you board a bus carrying Hindu Devotees to Shimla and blast it in the middle of the journey.

Saath 1 – Are these bombs manual?

Markho – Markho – No, they are voice activated bombs. When, I yell the code through the transmitter the kitty will lose one of its lives. And the code is, ‘Walley Shah Al Navabi Hasani – Hasani’.

Saath – Saath maniacally started jumping and rolling on the ground. Their sentences started mixing together.

Saath – Saath – AAAAAAAHHHHH..........Help.....Call the Fire Brigade....Dial 911...Err...101....I am still a bachelor....My mommy thinks I am a Rocket Scientist....Somebody connect my body parts....Feed me a goat!

Markho – Markho – The bombs are off. Save this energy my Scapegoatssss....Ahm...Afghani Goatees go and just dew it...Group Hug...Arms In...And....ALLAH BOL!

Saath 1 reached the concert but his transmitter started picking up local radio station’s frequencies.

Saath 1 – Markho, I am approaching the stage like James Bond. What should I do now?

Transmitter – Stop sucking and start dancing because 121.7 fever is going to rock you all night.

Saath 1 – This wasn’t in the manual. Markho, do you seriously want me to dance?

Transmitter – Don’t just stand there citizen...Move your hips, break your legs and surf the crow like a break-dancer.

Markho – Markho – Walley Shah Al Nawabi Hasni – Hasni! Did it work? Why didn’t I hear a Boom – Boom sound?

Thanks to the frequency problem Saath 1 was break dancing, pulling a move after another. Markho started to get a feeling that something was going wrong.

Markho – Markho – WALLEY SHAH AL NAWABI HASNI – HASNI......What The Bombay?

Markho’s transmitter started picking up all kind of frequencies.

Transmitter – Staying Alive is the agenda supported by every N.G.O. Group. We believe that people should start adopting insects to revolutionize society. The pets are part of this planet. Roaming the Earth from millions of years they deserve love like getting their antennas licked.....

Markho – Markho – Huh...Somebody, please hit a plane in these Radio Towers. Saath 2, where are you?

The transmitters again started to malfunction.

Transmitter – Saath 2, Scooby Dooby Doo!

Saath 2 – Aaaaa...Where?...Is the Mystery Machine behind my bus? How did they know about our plan?

Markho – Markho – Saath 2! Hold your position. I am standing on top of the toilet. Can you hear me, Roger?...Roger me back.

Saath 2 – Yes, Roger I hear you clearly. The bus is on its way and the Devotees are providing free entertainment by singing and jumping on their seats. During the devotional songs, one guy always takes position of a lead singer waving his hands in air like a Traffic Policeman with the rest of the passengers providing chorus.

Suddenly, the bus stopped.

“Look, everyone it’s a Jagrata of Lord Shiva Ji. Let’s join them. Everybody Bam Bam Bhole!”

Saath 2 – Roger. They are all screaming Bomb – Bomb.

Markho – Markho – Oh Hell. Let me just activate the bomb right now.

The devotees joined the Jagrata filling the environment with their chants.

Saath 2 – Markho, the bus is empty. The birds have flown away.

Markho got off the toilet and the transmitter problem came back.

Transmitter – SUNDAY MONDAY TUESDAY WEDNESDAY.....I AM UNDER ATTACK....I REPEAT.....THEY ARE TEARING THROUGH MY FLESH......NOT THE FUNNY BONE....OVER & OUTTTTTTTT!

Markho – Markho – Shit...Roger, Saath 2...I am going to get you out of this. WALLEY SHAH AL NAWABI HASNI – HASNI....I repeat in a Hyderabadi accent....WALLEY SHAH AL NAWABI HASNI – HASNI.

“Bam – Bam Bhole.”

Transmitter – We are glad to inform you that your stay has come to an end. We hope that you had an enjoyable experience. Sadly, it’s your expiry time. Tata. WALLEY SHAH AL NAWABI HASNI – HASNI!

“Bam Shiva Bam.”

Saath 2 started running inside the bus.

“O Shiva Ji, Let’s Pump Up This Bam.”

Saath 2 – No, I don’t want to die. I promise I will drink milk and be a good boy.

“Meow – Meow!”

The bomb exploded filling the atmosphere with smoke. The burning bus was being watched by the devotees.

“Mighty Wonder! Lord Shiva has step foot on Earth. Everybody this bus is holy now. Grab your part.”

“I am going to wash my face with the petrol tank.”

“The seats are going to become a sensation in my living room.”

“O, Lord Shiva you are the sole protector of our souls!”

The End!

Karan’s Notes

*) Lord Shiva - Shiva is the god of the yogis, self-controlled and celibate, while at the same time a lover of his spouse (shakti). Lord Shiva is the destroyer of the world, following Brahma the creator and Vishnu the preserver, after which Brahma again creates the world and so on. Shiva is responsible for change both in the form of death and destruction and in the positive sense of destroying the ego, the false identification with the form. This also includes the shedding of old habits and attachments.

*) Jagrata - The concept of ‘ Jagran ' or ‘Jagrata' is a common practice in the Hindu Faith and is frequently misconstrued by others. The word Jagran , derived from the Sanskrit word ‘ jaagar ', meaning awake or a state of alertness, refers to this period of nocturnal wakefulness. Many Hindu fasts or ‘vrats' such as that of Satyanarayan and Ekadashi advocate the practice of Jagran , or all night vigil, during which the Almighty is venerated through various acts of worship. The logistics of fasting have been discussed in an earlier article.

However, what drives the devout to forfeit a night's sleep and remain awake? To comprehend this we must analyse a central belief of Sanatan Dharma. Quoting Shri Krishna from the Bhagavad-Gita, ‘yagyo daanam tapashchaiva paavanaani maneeshinaam ' , describes the main methods of atonement for humans. Yagya alludes to sacrificing something to the Supreme Being, which is dear to us. Sleep, just like eating, is for the most part an agreeable experience. The impulse to sleep, in the Hindu context is described as ‘ Nidraa ', which in itself is a manifestation of a base female aspect of the Almighty, ‘ Yogamaya ' . This particular form of the female energy, orNidraa , induces sleep in living beings and is most prevalent at night.

The practice of ‘ Bhagvati Jagran' or Jagrata by the devotees of the Mother Goddess, Shakti, is widely observed. The reason for this is the aforementioned association of sleep as a manifestation of Yogamaya .

Jagrata is performed all through the night to thank the GOD for his blessings and all the love he has bestowed upon us. It is believed that one who approaches the GOD with a pure heart never returns empty handed.

*) – S.T.D. Booth – Telephone Booth which offers ISD - International Subscriber Dialing (International), PCO - Public Call Office (Local Calls within a City), STD - Standard Trunk Dialling (From one Indian State/Province to another).

2) The ‘Real’ Superman

"Where does your life start?"

Monday
6:00 P.M.
The roads are busy as always..Old Man Vimmi's, Ice Cream Parlor is starting to get it's late evening customers. Even though I am standing far away from the road, I can see the flying dust particles everywhere. The cars, rickshaws, autos, and cycles' noises fall into the ears like bullets..This is India baby! The pollution covered sunset is a sight to kill and die for. Alright, finished with my cigarette. I drop the finished, unlit piece on the floor, squish it with my foot and say, 'Hasta La Vista Baby!' There are many things on the roads, the pavement, and even under my feet...It won't create a difference. Never has..Never will. My eyes close for a minute...God Help Me...There has been an accident in front of my eyes…..The driver covered in blood is crawling out of the car...No sign of movement from the second car. What do I do? Should I go out there and help the passengers. But, other people are also staring. Nobody is moving one inch. It would not create a difference even if I get involved...Besides, God forgives one sin...Let this be it.

Tuesday
9:30 A.M.

My head is still roaming around yesterday's incident. Depositing some money into my bank account might give me some relief. It is crowdy as usual. Long lines are forming around different windows. So, hot in here. Did someone steal your, A.C. or something? It feels good, when you are actually not saying something, just thinking it in your head. Try that, it actually feels good! Feels like you are in, front of a Police Officer, kick him, poke him, he wouldn't mind. Take all your anger off on the Police. Mumbai for me, and I don't know about you. Who am I talking to anyway? All this heat is travelling into my head.

“Put your hands up! This is a robbery. Everybody on the floor.”

What the heck? Everybody is starting to put their hands in the air, and lying on the floor. I should do the same thing....Something is touching my head. I am starting to hear a loud voice over my head.

“I don't want any cleverness, or this man's brain will be blown out of his head.”

I am a hostage. This man seems serious. He can blow my brain out of my head. I can hear my heart beat. It is very fast. I should try to do something…..No, I should stay perfectly still. Why does not anyone do something? He is making me move. All I can see is the people lying on the floor. He is taking me away. What if he takes me outside the bank and shoots me? One bullet and my body will be lying on the road. The gun is still on my head! I can feel the sweatiness all over my head. My head is feeling light suddenly. I gather my courage and turn around....The robbers are gone. Thank you, God.

12:00 P.M.
Midnight

Should I call myself lucky? Or, was it just a coincidence? He could have had shot me right away. The man had probably seen a lot of blood. Mine was not different. If he had shot me..Who would have had took me to my grave? I don't know a single person in my area. If my story gets a full stop, no editor is going to publish it...I know no one. I need a glass of Bacardi, on the rocks. I am done making my drink. Take a sip. Feels nice, strong. Most people say, ‘Life is a magical rainbow, the colors of joy shine out like a box of markers.’ Bullshit! Crime, Corruption, Rape, Robbery, Kidnapping. I find this in every corner of this country. Find it at every turn. Nobody takes responsibility to clean it. Nobody gives a damn about others. I didn't. I was wrong. This is going to be changed. I will change it.

The plug is in the wire. I am turning the computer on. My target....Hacking the Police website. Hacking is pretty easy, if you work for a Computer Software Company, or if you are a Computer Engineer. Or, maybe I am just too drunk!

Wednesday
3:00 P.M.

I am on the location, I printed from the computer yesterday. It is the area of, Drug Lord A.J. Short for, Aditya Jhand. Supplies drugs to everybody in the whole state. From college students to peons to roadside vendors. I walk in the back alley. There is a little window. I kick the window. Still intact! One more kick. Not breaking. Windows also open. I open the window and jump on the floor. There is a faint smell of drugs in the air. I don't know whether it is cocaine, or heroine, or a mixture of several drugs. I have a knife...That's it. I am hiding behind a big drum. All I can see is some men, packaging some packets into big boxes. Looks like they hit a jackpot today........Something has hit me….My brain is falling into darkness.

A.J. - Who are you? What do you want? Why are you here?

Why are you doing this? Don't you believe in respect!

A. J. - I believe in death, destruction, chaos, filth and greed.

“Kill Him!”

He is walking away! The cries of alligator coming from his shoes....The goons are gathering around me. I am tied up. Can't move. Wait, they are bringing some sort of bottle. It has something in it. They are pouring it on my hand. AAAHHHH.....This shit burns..It is acid..My hand feels so dead. It feels like it has been cut off. Augh! Shit, this guy just punched me in my face. He is getting ready to throw the second punch. I need to close my eyes...

5 Minutes Later

My face feels messed up. I can feel the blood dripping on my pants from my face. Not done yet! Something is stinging me in my back. One of the goon is taking something out of my back...Knife..Bastard stabbed me. He is going for it the second time..So, much for being a superhero!

10 Minutes Later

Flies have started walking on my back. I can feel my sliced skin getting sucked on by the flies. I turn my eyes towards the front. A gun pointing at my face. It is over. This is where he shoots. This is where I die. After one minute, a bullet is going to hit my face point blank, and the pieces of my face are going to be scattered on the floor. And, my body will be lying in a gutter. My heartbeat is going faster again. Experiencing a gun on your head, and facing death right in the barrel are two different cases. I should just close my eyes and say my last prayers. I hear the trigger being clicked. I heard it, the sound of my death approaching towards me....AAAHHHH...My shoulder...The bullet just hit my shoulder.

“I heard something. Go check the door. Maybe it is Police...Let’s go.”

I am alone, with the pain increasing minute by minute. The ropes they tied me with have become loose. I am trying to break free. I think I got it. Freedom. I am making my way out of the back door. I am running, as fast as I can. I can only hear one thing...My footsteps. My breath is becoming heavy. Can't run anymore. I am on the highway. The bullet is still in my shoulder! It feels like the fire from Hell. The poison is going to start making way through my body. Need to do something fast! I have my knife. It is surely going to hurt at first. AH! The knife is in, and now I take it out. The bullet falls on the road. Blood is dripping on the road, from my shoulder to the road. I am taking my shirt off, covering my shoulder. Shirt is getting painted red. Need to go home.

12:00 P.M.
Midnight

It is Thursday. I am on the roof. Staring at the lonely night. I have done my dressing. Now, I understand the true meaning of life. There was a moment... when I used to blame everything and everyone... for all the pain and suffering and vile things that I went through. Used to blame everybody. Blamed people, blamed society, and blamed God. I didn't get any answers ‘cause I was asking the wrong questions. You have to ask the right questions. And the question is, ‘When will the system be cured?’ When will the crime rate decrease? When will people quit their selfishness?

Now, I am seeing the true sunset. I have emailed, Police the whereabouts of, A.J. I do not want my picture on the front page; neither do I want any rewards. Because I know, I have done nothing. I am not a superhero. I have found out who I am.

I am jumping off my roof. My body is going to hit the ground and it is going to be all over. The, corruption is not that easy to change. Everybody is involved in it. It attacks your brain, but your heart is still there. Think through your heart..Breathe through your heart. Like this wind carrying me softly towards the ground. Feels like I am lying on my bed. But, this bed is a doorway towards the clouds. I found out who I am. I just have one last word.

“Superman.”

The End!

Karan’s Notes

*) This story is continuously told from a First – Person Narrative where the lead character describes the actions taking place around him.

3) ‘Jungli’ Kingdom

Location: Champakvan Wildlife Sanctuary, India.

Champakvan Wildlife Sanctuary located in India was a peaceful sanctuary divided into three regions with each region ruled by a lion. In recent times Champakvan was experiencing harsh conditions due to constant threats of Poaching, Human induced problems, Air – Water Pollution, Forest destruction, etc. To defend their territory the rulers proposed a meeting of, ‘Jungle Board’ consisting of different animals representing various fields.

Alpha Lion – “Silence people!...I mean animals expect the Chimpanzees because you gorillas…Ahm!...Chimps share 98% of your D.N.A. with humans. Everybody clap for the useless information provided. Now the meeting begins. Jungle Board, go ahead.”

Jungle Board started suggesting their solutions.

Bear - “I say we bring some birds from Afghanistan. Next time whenever a hunter sets foot in the jungle….KABOOM…BOOM CHIK…BOOM…Freshly baked human meat sprinkled with some feathers courtesy of our suicide sparrows.”

Kingfisher - “If we want some aggressive defenses, then we could deploy suicide lemmings. After all they are going to commit suicide sooner or later.”

Squirrel – “That’s downright Racism. I suggest we all go into hibernation mode.”

Cheetah – “Uptohowmanygenerationsdoyousuggest?”

Chimpanzee – “Slow down C for Cheetah! Look we all have our opinions but these tactics are downright foolish. I mean, Crocodile wanted to migrate some Japanese Cranes over here and have them build a wall of Laser shouting bats. I say we start with baby steps. Let’s implant some, ‘Complaint Boxes’ in Champakvan. This will give us a chance to look at the problems faced by the animals and tackle them.”

Everyone agreed with this idea and complaint boxes were installed. After five weeks the three lions met to monitor their progress.

Alpha Lion (Speaking in a ‘Congress’ Tone) – “I tried to resolve majority of the complaints. I installed ‘Air Traffic Control’ to watch for over speeding birds. A lot of birds never pick up proper speed and often crash into trees or fellow animals causing life threatening accidents. So, any bird that is caught exceeding the speed limit will be fined by placing in a pond/lake to swim for the remainder of the days. I also built hospitals and marriage offices for animals who want to cross hybrid between each other.”

Beta Lion (Counteracting with a ‘BJP’ Tone) – “I have spread the power among my animals. Although, I suggested them to observe the antics of local Villagers/Forest Rangers and become more civilized. A lot of the animals have started wearing undergarments and some have even started spying on humans to learn the proper ways of disposing their waste material. Some species have started becoming great friends and they use each other. Monkeys skip ropes with snakes becoming their ropes, rhinoceroses strike artistic poses with horses allowing them to imagine they are unicorns, and cheetahs carry sloths and snails on their back. It’s the era of privatization.”

Theta Lion – “I got tired of my Vegetarian diet. So, I ate all the animals in my region, permanently removing their tension!”

The End!

Karan’s Notes

*) Alpha Lion holds viewpoint of Indian National Congress. Indian National Congress is one of the two major political parties in India, the other being the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP). It is the largest and one of the oldest democratic political parties in the world. The party's modern liberal platform is largely considered center-left in the Indian political spectrum. The main ideologies of the centre-left are modern liberalism and social democracy and sometimes democratic Socialism. Centre-left political parties generally support:

a) A mixed economy consisting of both private enterprise and publicly owned or subsidized programmers of education, universal health care, child care and related social services for all citizens.

b) An extensive system of social security, with the stated goal of counteracting the effects of poverty and insuring the general public against loss of income following illness, unemployment or retirement (National Insurance contributions) and equal rights and opportunity.

*) Beta Lion hold viewpoint of Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP). The party's platform is generally considered right of center (center-right) in the Indian political spectrum. Parties of the centre-right generally support the market economy limited forms of government regulation, private property rights, and opposition to socialism and communism.

4) Miss Economy

Location: Bokaro Steel Plant, Jharkhand, India.

The results of the first ever ‘Miss Economy’ contest were about to be announced. The contestants were mainly from Upper – Class families.

Announcer – Sorry for any inconvenience audience. Due to budget cuts we were forced to hold our unique ‘Economic Pageant’ at an unequally ordinary, chemical filled environment, coated with masculine sweat, the Bokaro Steel Plant plus they were the only sponsors we could find. Our managers have requested to kindly donate any clothing item to pay off the microphone, sound, light, and stage expenses….To get you all to cooperate we have told the laborers to increase the heat by doing more metalworking….So, you may have noticed the temperature has increased to 27.9 Degree Celsius…..On the plus side you all got to watch free fireworks and suffer from heat waves caused by the blast furnaces throughout the show. Now the first ever ‘Miss Economy’ is………………..

“Wait! I object to the name your voice box is going to play.”

Announcer – This is not for promotion purposes audience. We never planted any failed actress amongst you. Miss, would you come on the stage!

The woman walked on the stage and was given a microphone.

“Hi, my name is ‘Miss Jharkhand’! I would like to win the title of ‘Miss Economy’ because I am a ‘Beauty with Duty’. I am the living embodiment of Jharkhand’s economy. Neither High nor Middle and not even Low, my Economic class is Poverty. I am a member of a society where my caste has alienated me. But I have no regrets. We poor make a bulky unemployed family. As a child my mother could never buy me expensive frocks/skirts, she always hand stitched various clothing layers found in bacteria ridden garbage bins. My mother, my idol dried and sold cow dungs. Watching her I tried to get an exceptional education in any affordable Public School. Dirty life forced me to eat from dustbin, drink from sewer line, and bathe in acidic gutters. I slept with my mother on a concrete floor. Once, after getting bitten by ‘Monsoon’ mosquitoes I became a carrier of Malaria. We could not afford the medicine. So, my mother bought a packet of ‘Good Night’ (Mosquito Repellent Bars) and fed me a small bar from it. Never experienced the touch of princess dolls, my hands have always played with broken shards of glass, hammer, and nails. I am a member of the world with no taxes, laws, or monarchy. My poor brothers and sisters add to this country’s population. In this way our country can gain sympathy from developed nations. I may not be a model but I represent the never ending crisis of India’s journey.”

Judge – Waaaaaaaaaaaaah! I crown the ‘Miss Economy’ title to ‘Mother India….Oh…I mean ‘Miss Jharkhand’. She will be awarded a lifetime opportunity to work and degrade the economy of Andaman and Nicobar Islands.

A group of celebrating youth creating loud noises barged into the spectators and started dancing.

Judge – Waaaaaaaaaaaaaht? Announcer since we could not afford security, you go wrestle these bodybuilders and throw them out.

Miss Jharkhand stopped the all ready shivering announcer and spoke on the microphone.

“Sir, these are my supporters who live with me in the nearby ‘Chawls’. They are also unemployed. But they have created excellent bodies by working as Stuntmen in various Regional and some Bollywood movies. It would be extremely supportive of you to host a Bodybuilding Competition for this group to participate in. You are saving a lot of money by gifting me a cheap visit to Andaman and Nicobar Islands, one of the Union Territories of India. So, they can be easily distributed in developing countries such as Nepal, Bangladesh, Zimbabwe, Africa, Uganda, and be provided with citizenship.”

The judge became speechless.

The End!

Karan’s Notes

*) Jharkhand, an East India state contributes to about 4.2% of overall poverty of the country. Around 77.0% is the proportion of poor living in Jharkhand.

*) ‘Good Night’ is an Indian Mosquito Repellent product. It is usually manufactured in the shape of small rectangular bars.

*) A chawl is a name for a building type mainly found in India. Often referred to as kholis, which literally means ‘rooms’ on each floor. There are often 4 to 5 stories in a chawl housing around 10 – 30 tenants.

5) “The Sufferer became the Conqueror!”

Lallu Lulu and his assistant Cheeku, a team of untrained Indian ‘Hazmat’ Workers were urgently dispatched to quarantine a village after it got struck by a pandemic.

Lallu – Is the radius clear?

Cheeku – Yes, sir we quickly got all of the villagers out of the area. Currently they are being vaccinated; moreover we found the source of this unknown disease to be the well of the village which serves as the main water site.

Lallu – So, it can be a broken sewer line or maybe a bird’s waste droppings that contaminated the water.

Cheeku – Sir, look…………..!

Cheeku spotted a villager lying on a charpoy coughing constantly.

Lallu – Approach with care, it can be a mirage created by the bacteria/virus ridden environment to infect us.

Lallu and Cheeku carefully walked towards the charpoy and started staring at the villager.

Lallu – He seems to be alive. Quick give him ‘Mouth – to – Mouth’ before we lose him.

Cheeku – Haaaaaaaaaaaa……..

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu………..Fuuuuuuuuuuuu……..”

Cheeku – Aye, don’t give me this inappropriate language right now. This is a question of our promotion and your safety. Now open wide. Say, Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa………..

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…….You are kneeling on my privates…..Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu……………”

Lallu – Wait! His heart rate is falling down, pulse is decreasing, and body temperature seems to be rising…..We are losing him…Quick, give him ‘C.P.R.’!

Cheeku – Sir, I don’t know how to ‘C.P.U.’! But, I brought this fire extinguisher with me from our van. If you want I can Fuuuuuuuuuuuuusssssssshhhhhhhh him.

“Fu….Fuuuu…………. Fuuuuuuuuuuuu……………..”

Cheeku – Sir, you have the ‘Right to Know’ that he is pointing towards you to come closer to him.

Lallu kneeled closer to the villager.

“Fuuuuu……..Take Ofuuuuuuuuuuu Your Clothes……..Fuuuuuuuuuuuu…”

Cheeku – Sir, maybe you should……..

Lallu – Shuuuuuuuuuuuut Up Cheeku……This dying man wants to feel the warmth of human flesh before he coughs his last breath.

Lallu quickly took off his hazmat suit and took the man’s hand into his hand. Suddenly, the villager tightened his grip and spat on Lallu’s face.

“Thuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu………………..”

Lallu – Huuuuuuuuuuuunh! Why did you give me your saliva sample? We could have extracted that during postmortem.

“Looooooooooooks like you didn’t recognize me….I am your old assistant, Kallu. We had an internship in Honolulu. You caused a massive leak at the chemical plant destroying an ancient forest full of sacred animals and mountains worshipped by local residents. You blamed me for the disaster and came back to India. When you were continuing your Hazmat career over here, I was sentenced to a 7 month community service in which I had to clean up sewers full of toxic waste. After getting demoted back to India, I spent several years searching you. In this long hiatus I picked up various diseases through mosquito bites, eating pig meat, eating chicken with pig meat, and by transferring blood from dead bodies of beggars into my veins. Since then I have wandered villages of different states, wiping their existence from the map. Finally, I have found you and I have made you a carrier of diseases with mixtures of deadly viruses and bacteria. Now Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuk off………..”

Lallu – Cheeku doooooooooooooooooo something! Quick take my blood sample….No, go get a pipe and doooooooooooooooo blooooooooood transfuuuuuuuuuuuuusion.

Cheeku – Sir, no white blood cell is strong enough to kill your mixture of Malaria, H1N1, Bird Flu, and Indian Beggar Disease….I will get you a charpoy and you can bond with your old assistant. I believe all of you got the moral of the story where, “The Sufferer became the Conqueror!”

The End!

Karan’s Notes

*) Hazmat workers, also known as decontamination specialists, are in the business of handling and disposing of the world's most dangerous substances. They get called in when something in the environment is so dangerous it simply can't be dealt with normal forces. The hazmat crew then physically removes said danger and decontaminates the area.

*) Charpoy (Commonly known as ‘Manjaa’) is a woven bed consisting of a wooden frame bordering a set of knotted ropes. Traditionally the user would lie directly on top of the ropes without an intervening mattress.

6) “Yakuza”

Location: Tokyo, Japan.

In the midst of, Sanja Matsuri festival it was hard to hear anything else. Thousands of Japanese groups carrying the shrine through the streets, shouting, showing off their culture. Nothing else could be heard. It, seemed like the whole Japan was walking on the streets.

But, still the landing of planes signalled the comeback of several Japanese citizens. In, all these faces there were several new faces walking, trying to blend in. Some were just tourists. While, others did not know what they were going into.

The leather shoes had just crossed the, Airport gate. The suit symbolised that the person was of an upper status. His eyes constantly kept on looking at the, Rolex watch stuck on his hand.

“Taxi!” he screamed.

Between all the noises, it didn't look like that any taxi was going to be coming.

The man had realised that, and started to walk his way through the crowd. But, this wasn't like the normal crowd. It was different. There were people with full body tattoos.

The leather shoes had to stop. There was something poking the coat.

“Move to the side!”

“Look if you want money......”

“Michael. Do, as we tell you.”

How do they know his name? Michael's eyes started to look around in fear. It didn't take a minute until; Michael's face was covered with a chloroform invested cloth. His eyes closed and mind succumbed into darkness.

“Wake him up!”

“Yes, Wakagashira.”

Cold droplets of water hit Michael's face. He started to gain conscience.

Michael - Where.....Where am I?

Wakagashira - Where?...That is not the question you should be asking...Why?...That is.

Michael - You don't know what I can...

Wakagashira - You can't do anything, Mr. Michael Shank. I am the one holding the gun right now. Whatever, I say goes. There are 45 men in this room right now. All, capable of filling your body with countless bullets, that your blood will have to find its way out.

Michael - Listen, you son of a....

Wakagashira's hand moved and a cold blade came on Michael's neck.

Wakagashira - Talk with respect to the first lieutenant. Or, I will cut your body, and hang it on the streets.

Fear started to take over, Michael's mind. This was a serious situation.

“Wakagashira, Oyabun wants to see you.”

Wakagashira - Guard him!

Michael's eyes started to look around. He saw, some men getting tattooed. Guns being taken away. And, a group of young girls chained. The tears of young girls started to rip, Michael's heart. But, he himself was helpless.

“Oyabun is here!”

A voice alarmed him and, Michael's attention went towards the stairs where a black suited man followed by Wakagashira and two other men were stepping down.

Oyabun - Welcome, Mr. Shank. Any difficulty finding the headquarters of Yamaguchi - gumi.

Michael's mouth did not move but his eyes kept looking at the cigar being smoked by the Oyabun.

Oyabun - Your fragile mind must be full of many questions. And, you also must be shocked to see, so many Japanese speaking, 'English'. We have to learn it, Mr. Shank. It is all done for business....Oh, yes...Our, business. Who are we? What do we do? We are a clan of Yakuza. The name of our family is Yamaguchi – gumi*. And, we do everything. Right, now I am going to make you an offer. Sign, this contract and you will be free. Free to smell the fresh air and see the daylight of your life again. And, if you don't, I will put your life in such a darkness that you will wish you were given an easy death.

Before, Michael could say something the silence was broken by the dogs, held by two men.

Oyabun - My dogs are hungry, Mr. Shank.

The, heart inside Michael’s suit seemed it was going to jump out. If, Michael didn't speak now, he would never be able to speak again.

Michael – What?...What Contract?

Oyabun - You are here to settle the deal between your company and the ‘Yamashiro Company’. You are the head of the board of stockholders. Now, your job is to right now sign this contract, making us the owner of your stocks. Hurry, Mr. Shank, your sweat is ruining your perfect suit...And, my dogs are becoming impatient.

Michael's eyes looked at the contract and then at the Oyabun. His, cigar was almost over. The ashes falling on the table could have had been, Michael's body falling apart piece by piece.

His, hand moved and the Contract paper got filled with red ink.

Oyabun - Well, done Mr. Shank. Let's settle this deal with a glass of sake. Ane-San.

A woman was bringing two glasses.

Oyabun - This is my wife. Now, drink the sake, Mr. Shank.

Michael's trembling hands picked up the glass.

Oyabun - It's not poison, Mr. Shank. Take a sip. Good for your heart.

Michael somehow gulped a sip down.

Oyabun - Now, we switch glasses.

Ane-San took Oyabun's glass and started to walk towards Michael. Michael's eyes rolled towards the knife still sitting on the table after his first encounter with Wakagashira. Michael's fear started to turn into hope. He grabbed the knife and got hold of Ane-San. Knife resting on her throat. His, hands were still shaking. Heartbeat getting faster. Nerves ready to pop out of the brain.

Michael - Don't....Don't...Move!

Each and every man in that room was ready to make a move, but Oyabun's hand had stopped them.

Oyabun - I will give you a chance, Mr. Shank. Get out of here, until I finish my cigar and if you can't.......Ha Ha Ha Ha!

Michael - I have your wife as a hostage, and you are laughing at me.

Before, Michael could move back one more step a sword came onto his back.

“Drop the knife, or my sword bathes in blood today!”

This, man was serious. Michael would not be able to escape alive. Knife hit the floor. Ane-San moved away from, Michael.

Oyabun - Ah...My second lieutenant. You shall be rewarded.

Shateigashira - Your service is my reward, sir.

Oyabun - And for you, Mr. Shank..........Yubitsume*!

Several, men held Michael while Wakagashira got ready.

Oyabun - I know you will not cut your own finger.

Wakagashira walked towards, Michael.

Wakagashira - Ready?

The sword came down and the room filled with shouts of pain. Michael's little finger was lying on the ground with blood around it. Blood was still dripping from, Michael's hand.

Oyabun - Normally, I would stop after this, Mr. Shank. I have a heart too. But, you have touched my wife. This crime has no punishment. Only, freedom is your punishment.

Oyabun gave a signal and the men got ready. Several, guns aimed at Michael.

Michael - No....Please....Don't.

Oyabun - There is no wrong place or a wrong time. There are just wrong people. And, you are one of them. You must be set free.

Cigar hit the ground and several bullets found a way into, Michael's body. His suit's colour changed into red.

Sanja Matsuri was over. There was a crowd forming around a wall. But, this time they were staring at a body. Body of Michael Shank. And, written in blood on the wall was a message.........

“Yakuza”

The End!

Karan’s Notes

*) Yakuza is the name given to organized criminal gangs from Japan. The Yakuza is not a single organization but rather a collection of separate gangs or clans akin to the American Mafia. These violent criminals have left their fingerprints on many aspects of Japanese life, from lowly gambling and prostitution rackets to the halls of high-level political and financial power.

*) Yamaguchi- gumi is the biggest yakuza family, accounting for 50% of all yakuza in Japan, with more than 55,000 members divided into 850 clans.

*) Oyabun acts as a leader of the clan, with men under him given the title of ‘Kobun’. Wakagashira and Shateigashira hold the ranks of First & Second Lieutenants respectively.

*) Yubitsme is a traditional punishment for failure within a Yakuza clan resulting in the amputation of a part of the little finger. When the gangster has displeased his boss, he is merely given a knife and a bandage. He must then chop off the top joint of his fourth finger and present it to the boss.

7) Tears of a Clown (Part 1)

“Here's one more, I was attending a conference and somebody brings up Bush's name. I stand up, throw my shoes to the side and scream, ‘Weapon of mass destruction destroyed the twins!’....”

There were barely any spectators present in the auditorium. The once full, ‘Clown Princes’ Comedy House which gave world countless comedians was now witnessing empty seats. It seemed like they were going to shut down any day. Probably, they were just waiting for the right hour. Most of the workers had already quit their jobs and the only person apart from janitor who seemed to be doing any work was the, Stand - Up Comedian, Subodh ‘Joker’ Gupta.

Subodh – “Get it! I am pointing at the conspiracy involving Bush's name thrown in the 9/11 attacks...This is Black Comedy at its best.”

Trilok – “I think, I've heard that one before.”

Subodh – “Come on Tri...I am performing here.”

Trilok – “The House is empty Joker Boy! The only claps you are going to get are from me or the janitors.”

Subodh – “Never thought that I would be the last person to hear the sound of silence in this place.”

Trilok – “What sound?....What silence?....What are you talking about here?....The, only sound I ever heard in this place was maniacal laughter from every corner. Heck, the people laughed so loud that I had to put the material they use in garage doors in my windows. That sound and the sound of my pocket getting full of money. Look, at my pockets now. What do you see?...What do you hear?...They are empty, full of air. The windows are broken. Those seats are getting covered with dirt....Even, the custodians were asking for better cleaning sprays. And, what should I pay them? With your mindless humour!...Huh, Humour me Joker Boy. This place has fallen apart and I want one last laugh. I will get that laugh when you walk out of that door. The door is not hard to find. Says, EXIT...And, it is capitalised.”

Subodh – “I have been performing on this stage for months, Tri. I filled the seats with crowd. Suddenly, the laughter faded away. I kept standing on the empty stage with the curtain closing on me. After, the curtain had closed all I could hear was the janitor's broom, sweeping on the floor, back and forth. The toughest thing in the world is to crack a joke and expect people to laugh. Because, if they don't the joke is on you.”

Trilok – “The joke has hit you! You are fired. Get out and never show me your face again because if you do your body will be lying on the floor and I will place it on the stage. Now, that will get you enough laughs and claps.”

The curtain had closed. Subodh packed his stuff and came back to his apartment.

“Subodh, where have you been? You are overdue!”

Subodh – “Bijar, I am currently facing a financial crisis. I promise....”

Bijar – “No promises, man. I have been hearing about this crisis for 8 months. You either pay now or leave my apartment.”

Subodh packed his stuff and started walking down the road. Clouds shouted and rain started to pour.

Subodh – “Oh, Thank You God! All I needed was pathetic fallacy. At least, I still have Kala.”

The rain started to increase. The clouds had blocked moon's light. But, Subodh was still carrying a smile. He knocked on Kala’s door.

Kala – “Our relationship is over! The ice broke a long time ago. And, what have you done for me? Forget about gifts, I have been paying your debt for like forever. And, don't try to call me or I will stab your heart with an ice pick. Go and get a life.”

The door slammed on Subodh's face.

Subodh – “You shouldn't say those things Kala....I am a Pisces...And we are really sensitive.”

Inside, his mind his thoughts were becoming more violent.

“I will kill you Kala! I feel like King Lear right now. And, I feel hungry....”

Subodh had found refuge with some beggars in an alley.

“Hey, buddy...Do you have a lighter?”

Subodh – “Yes, I also have a broken heart and an empty stomach. Here!”

Smoke from the cigarette was hard to see in the darkness.

“Are you a clown?”

Subodh – “Since the day I was born.”

“Yo Rupesh, Naresh, we got Hobo the Clown over here. Gather up.”

The beggars gathered around Subodh, waiting for his next move, waiting to chuckle up. It seemed like the clown was having a bad day. He didn’t talk.

Rupesh – “Is he supposed to be, ‘Mona Lisa’?”

Naresh – “Where's the red nose?”

Hitesh – “Let's give him one!”

For a moment there, Subodh didn't know what hit him. His eyes had already closed. Droplets of blood from his face were mixing with the puddles in the alley. And, there was his body lying in the alley.

.........Continued!

8) Tears of a Clown (Part 2)

....After falling down, Subodh’s mind went into a spiral. He was speaking inside his head. He was looking at the world and analyzing it through his conscious.

“Bloodstains on my shirt are the least of my worries. My starved stomach is telling a whole different tale right now. Here, I stand in the street getting full of people. Where, no one cares about no one. They all walk. Some stare at me, disgusted by what I look like. Look, inside the deepest corners of your heart and you will find a cage with a monster locked inside. Tame that monster because once it becomes unleashed places will look shrunk enough to hide. If, I don't find food soon I will die and that monster will be unleashed. That worries me.”

Subodh's hands were digging through the trash cans. His eyes wondering through the garbage for food. Mouth was starting to water. Brain was drawing images for food in the mind. The temptation was making everything worse. He picked up the garbage bin and threw it with full force towards the ground. The anger inside started to come out with the stomping on the piece of metal.

“I keep talking to myself. Thinking that this would calm my hunger. All, my eyes see are the people constantly chewing on food. They are everywhere. Like, zombies....Walking and chewing....Get hold of yourself boy....Insanity is starting to take control of me...I need food...”

Sun was at its highest. Temperature was increasing. And, there stood Subodh holding a sign that read, ‘WILL GET BEATEN FOR FOOD!!’. Things, hunger can make a person do.

Subodh – “Sahib, would you like to beat me up. I am a human punching bag. Take your anger out on me. Make me taste my own blood. If you buy a punching bag, it will cost you a lot. But, you will never get the feeling of a real punching bag.”

“How much?”

A smile started to merge on his face. The man took of his coat. And, pain started to come in. After getting beaten up, he went to a coffee shop.

Subodh – “This is the best coffee I have ever had and I have had some good ones. Not a bad job really. Just have to remember to faint after 5 minutes or I will break some bones. Surgery is expensive.”

Subodh’s attention got taken by the T.V. where a reporter was reporting breaking news.

Reporter (On T.V.) – “It's has just been reported that the professional comedian, ‘Hit – Mo’ has been found dead in his mansion.....”

Subodh – “Turn Up...Turn the volume up!”

Reporter – “Our team is live on the scene. Apparently the famous comedian hanged himself. Police are not letting anyone inside. The only information we were able to get is that he wrote a quote on his walls saying, “Comedy Is Dead”. We will keep you informed as we gain further information.”

Subodh’s mind again started speaking to him.

“A comedian lost his laugh today. These people will talk for a while and shut up.....His death will bring thousands of fans and supporters on his funeral. Roads will fill up the cemetery. Coffin will be brought. He will be buried. Tears will be shed. Speeches will be made. And, he will become a legend. What happens when I leave? Nobody cares...Apart from a few people nobody knows me and they don't try to know me. They don't look beyond the mask that I wear. They never gave me the recognition. I never got what I deserved. Even after his death he will be standing out in the cemetery. But, I am like a chameleon. You expect me to blend in. Well, I simply can't. I don't blend with people with thousand masks. The fame that I should always walk with, despises me.......All what you have done is simply not enough. They want more. More till you burst like a bubble. The clown antiques, the reused jokes, the stereotypical humour, is outdated. You give them dialogues. They want themes. Well, I am putting an end to this. I respect the love my fans have given me. So, when I walk out there the curtain is going to remain open. It is going to close when the smirk is gone from my face. And you know what my monster has come out of its cage..............”

Subodh went to Trilok’s house to negotiate a deal.

Trilok – “I have deep concerns for you boy. But, I am helpless...I respect your thoughts on everything you just said...I really do...But, I have sold our comedy house.”

Subodh took out a gun stuffed in his trousers and started to swing it around.

Subodh – “Fear is starting to take hold of you. What are you afraid of? The gun...Huh...Is the gun intimidating you? I had to give, Kala a visit. She was angry at first, but I made her mood better. After, I left she didn't say anything, didn't utter one single word. She remained there, lying motionless. The gun is her courtesy. And my payment is yours.”

Trilok – “There is no money.....”

Subodh – “Look, you give me the money and I walk out of here. And maybe just shoot you in the leg. Don't give me the money, well then my gun wants to laugh out loud with a bang.”

Trilok ran for the bathroom. His hands locked the door and his cell phone made its way out of the pocket towards his ear.

Subodh – “Oh, Fat Boy.....You have made this whole thing worse than it already was. Come out and I won't torture you to death.”

Trilok – “Police Station. I have got a mad man in my office.....He is trying to kill me. He has got a gun. I have locked myself in my bathroom. Yes, I will stay here. Come quick.”

The Police Cars made their way out of the traffic. Sirens were still screaming. They surrounded the whole place. Subodh was unaware of the Police who were behind the door of Trilok's office.

“Freeze! Put down your weapon and step away from the door with hands behind your back.”

The gun hit the floor. Trilok opened his door and came out. One policeman took the gun into possession.

“Sir, there are no bullets in the gun!”

“What did you do? Did you kill anyone?”

Trilok – “He killed his girlfriend!”

The Police called Kala’s house to ensure her safety. Kala's voice reached Police's ears. Subodh's laughter filled the whole room. His laughter has still not faded away. Subodh sits in a mental asylum with smirk across his face laughing silently.

“The toughest job in the world is to crack a joke and expect people to laugh. Because if they don't, the joke is on you!” – Subodh Gupta

The End!

Karan’s Notes

*) Pathetic Fallacy is the presentation of inanimate objects in nature as possessing human feelings. In this case the rain shows Subodh’s sad/lonely emotions.

*) King Lear is a play by William Shakespeare, in which the lead protagonist suffers after getting exiled by his daughters from his kingdom. Subodh goes through a similar scenario after losing his job, apartment, and girlfriend.

9) “Blessings of an F***ed Up Indian Ghost!”

Location: Sri City, Andhra Pradesh, India.

Parag, an innovative Indian author is feeling cheated by life after constant failures due to a low fan base and consistent dose of ‘Inferiority Complex’ supplied by his counterpart, a successful novelist Kulesh. Parag used to ghost write for Kulesh, but after not getting a fair chance, he left to make it on his own. Kulesh used his status and ‘reach’ making sure that Parag’s writing career never meets a Publishing House. Since, then Parag has been reduced to write for Jagrata/Bhajan Singers (Indian Singers who sing Religious songs dedicated to Indian Gods/Goddesses). Carrying a vengeance in his mind, Parag wants to bring down Kulesh and take away his popularity and stardom.

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