It is a cloudless night at Badrinath. The remote pilgrimage town is under the benign glow of the towering Mt. Neelakanta, shimmering in the bright moonlight. However I am not able to see this divine sight. Nor can I hear the lolling melodies of countless temple bells tolling in the beautifully lighted temple by the river. Neither am I able to smell that beautiful fresh air which is wafting from the mountain.
The long journey from Ernakulam to Badrinath terminated in a moment of breathlessness as I gained the first sight of the beautiful valley, shepherded by the massive snow clad peaks of Himalayas. The spartan accommodations at the ashram I stayed and the wheezy breathlessness of the thin mountain air did not however dampen my excitement at arriving at Badrinath. The weariness and cramps of the long bus ride from Haridwar was soothed to a measure by a bath in blistering hot waters of the natural springs that abound in this region.
Piety in a hitherto unexpressed measure enveloped me in my numerous visits to the temple to pray to the Lord. The throngs of people coming to see a glimpse of the Lord did nothing to mar the serenity that seemed to engulf this confirmed introvert.
Then there was the trek to Mana village, a quaint and charming little village a few kilometers further north towards Tibet border. Drawing from my fading memories of Vaishno Devi I had procured a sturdy staff for the trek through the winding road between countless Ashrams set in very serene ambience. I learned that the little village is mostly a shopping experience so I did not linger here for long and soon crossed the river which was now only a miniature reminder of the torrent that I passed by in the lower valleys.
This is the route for the trek towards Vasudhara Falls and the route towards Gangothri glacier and Kedarnath trek. In my so called "peak" physical conditioning I did not trust myself to make this trip.
So I set out for my main objective for the trip - the Satopath Glacier and Mt. Neelkanth. The snow clad mountain had caught my fancy during the painstaking reconnaissance I conducted using Google Earth and it has always been my dream to visit such a snow clad mountain, to see the glaciers of Himalaya before it is too late.
However at this point of time, I realize I cannot, I must not write about this experience.
It has always been my experience that if I ever fantasize about something, it gets jinxed, it never happens. Since most of my fantasies are of rather extravagant nature, this is of no problem, but here is a fantasy which I fully intend to relive. Hence I shall desist myself from fantasizing about my experiences in Mt. Neelkanth.
Bada Bing Boosh.
Yes. This entire series of narrative/travelogue is a work of fiction. A work of desperation by a wander lusty person destined to be confined to his home for an indefinable extent of time. This is the product of hours of fantasizing over Google earth and its vibrant imagery.
This is a blog post that has been directly caused by the remarkable experience of a particular Google Earth route tour I made, a depiction of a fantasy to drive from my home to Badrinath over a distance of 2,977 kilometers (yes, distance too has been plotted by Google Earth).
So before I am accused of being a shameless unpaid / unsolicited advertisement of Google Earth, I apologize to anyone who felt I had actually undertaken this journey. The facts mentioned in this narrative are true, the wonders of internet gives us a plethora of information to enable us to plan any trip, any where to the last rupee (dollar to Non Indians, :P). The sad thing is that despite such facilities being available, one is constrained from traveling.
I do however promise this, when I actually make this journey I shall endeavor to create an even more colorful narrative of it. I only hope that by the time I get to travel to these places Global Warming would not have robbed the snowy whiteness of these mountains and glaciers.
Well if that happens, I still have my fantasy world to sink into! :)
Friday, May 28, 2010
Friday, May 21, 2010
Day 4 - A road through Mountains
I think I would start off by congratulating myself for the dexterous feat I accomplished just to facilitate this blog post. After all managing to balance a laptop in the confined space of a bus is no mean feat for an Obelix'esque person like me. Really glad to find Airtel range here.
The bus has now stopped at Srinagar, a nice little town by the banks of Alakananda River. All today morning I had been looking to find a place with decent range to post this. No idea how range would be at my destination and besides yesterday's accounts must be stored.
Yesterday I reached New Delhi Railway Station at 1.30 PM in the afternoon. It was blistering hot. I had forgotten how hot New Delhi could be in May, but of course I was reminded of that tiny little fact in a mega hurry. After hurriedly jumping out of train lugging my backpack and grip my first order of business was to find out where the Utkal Express is coming. This would be a true test of the punctuality and truthfulness of the IRCTC website. Having reached Delhi Railway Station at 1330 at 1445 I was to board this train to reach my next point in this journey, Haridwar.
The first person I saw at the platform was a Police guy. I asked him and all I received was a confused stare. Rather than worrying about whether I had spoken in Hindi or English I immediately hailed Tea vendor walking by. Now this person was more helpful and soon I made my mad dash across the station to the platform where the train had to come.
Thank God that I was well in time. 30 minutes of waiting later the train slowly chugged into the platform and was comfortably seated in my Sleeper Class compartment. Though there was no chance of me having to sleep for this leg of journey I had guessed that it would be better to get a proper sleeper ticket than waging my health and sanity in a sitting or general compartment.
The train ride from New Delhi to Haridwar was rather unremarkable. Field stretching as far as eye can see, glimpses of rural agrarian life that quite never change with the passage of centuries, though occasional SUVs stand testament to the prosperity of these areas.
It was night about 8.45 when I reached Haridwar Railway Station. Along with the cohorts of commuters returning home after a day of work I got off the station. This would be the end of my train borne travel in this trip.
Passing by a dried up pool with a massive bust of Lord Shiva looking towards the distant mountains, I crossed the road and walked the few meters to the Central Bus Stand. At this time the station was idling to a halt. I walked up to the office and enquired about the first bus to my destination - 5 AM. Second Bus? 6 AM.
Well nothing to be done other than try to get a few hours of sleep. Having planned the trip in some detail I had already made enquiries at the Rahi Motel, a government run facility which is quite near the Railway Station and Bus Stand. Since this is a Government run hotel and since I would be there for barely a few hours, I did not book myself a room, rather I booked myself a dormitory bed. After having a hurried dinner at the attached restaurant, I took a bath in the frigid water and was off to sleep. Having secured my bags with chains to the bed's foot, my head barely made contact with the pillow when the "Evil Laughter" ringtone of my mobile phone woke me up at 4 AM in the morning.
Hardly comprehending where I was and what I was doing, in the memory of being in my bed at home I was about to deactivate the alarm and get back to sleep when my awareness caught up. Yesterday I had arranged with the attender with a reminder of 10 rupees to wake me at 0415 if I did not wake up by myself. A 0415 the helpful savant was promptly in the dorm and I thanked him with another 10 rupees which I hope made his day, because he for one set off happily to fetch me some tea.
Since hot water would be available only at 7AM, I had another bath in the freezing cold water. My chattering teeth and shivering limbs would have woken up the other people sleeping but I dressed fast and welcomed with great thanks the steaming cup of cardamom tea the attender brought me. At 0430 I had settled my dues and walked the few meters to the Bus stand.
The sweater I was wearing and the scarf I had around my head was very helpful in the early morning cold. Breathing light puffs of air reminiscent of the smoking I quit some months back, I walked into the station, bought the ticket standing in a short queue and boarded the bus.
Having reconned the route through the beloved Google Earth I knew that a window seat towards the right would be the best. Unfortunately the seat, though comfortably cushioned did not have much leg space. Condemning myself to a long drive with cramped legs I stowed my grip on the over head luggage area and kept my backpack under my knees and waited for the bus to start.
Breakfast at Devprayag was picturesque affair. The town at the confluence of Bhagirathi and Alakananda, two legendary tributaries of River Ganga was first seen as the road wound by a terraced hill. Nestled at the foothills of green clad mountain, this is the point from which River Ganga officially is formed from its main tributaries. The drive towards the town gave several beautiful vantages which made me bemoan my woeful lack of a good camera. Somehow I knew that the pitiable camera on my Karbonn K10, the poor man's Blackberry or the poor man's Koratty (QWERTY) phone would not do justice to this vision. The incredibly tasty Poori Masala at the bus's breakfast stop was a fitting accompaniment to the beautiful town.
Several more kilometers of picturesque mountain roads, with the River Alakananda to the right and sheer walls of mountains to the left now I am here at Srinagar. A rather unremarkable North Indian Thali meal having been consumed now I am sitting in my seat waiting for the bus to start. I am halfway on the last leg of my onward journey, a journey of 312 km of which around 185 kilometers is still ahead of me.
I am sure that this last leg would be the most picturesque of my travel.
The bus has now stopped at Srinagar, a nice little town by the banks of Alakananda River. All today morning I had been looking to find a place with decent range to post this. No idea how range would be at my destination and besides yesterday's accounts must be stored.
Yesterday I reached New Delhi Railway Station at 1.30 PM in the afternoon. It was blistering hot. I had forgotten how hot New Delhi could be in May, but of course I was reminded of that tiny little fact in a mega hurry. After hurriedly jumping out of train lugging my backpack and grip my first order of business was to find out where the Utkal Express is coming. This would be a true test of the punctuality and truthfulness of the IRCTC website. Having reached Delhi Railway Station at 1330 at 1445 I was to board this train to reach my next point in this journey, Haridwar.
The first person I saw at the platform was a Police guy. I asked him and all I received was a confused stare. Rather than worrying about whether I had spoken in Hindi or English I immediately hailed Tea vendor walking by. Now this person was more helpful and soon I made my mad dash across the station to the platform where the train had to come.
Thank God that I was well in time. 30 minutes of waiting later the train slowly chugged into the platform and was comfortably seated in my Sleeper Class compartment. Though there was no chance of me having to sleep for this leg of journey I had guessed that it would be better to get a proper sleeper ticket than waging my health and sanity in a sitting or general compartment.
The train ride from New Delhi to Haridwar was rather unremarkable. Field stretching as far as eye can see, glimpses of rural agrarian life that quite never change with the passage of centuries, though occasional SUVs stand testament to the prosperity of these areas.
It was night about 8.45 when I reached Haridwar Railway Station. Along with the cohorts of commuters returning home after a day of work I got off the station. This would be the end of my train borne travel in this trip.
Passing by a dried up pool with a massive bust of Lord Shiva looking towards the distant mountains, I crossed the road and walked the few meters to the Central Bus Stand. At this time the station was idling to a halt. I walked up to the office and enquired about the first bus to my destination - 5 AM. Second Bus? 6 AM.
Well nothing to be done other than try to get a few hours of sleep. Having planned the trip in some detail I had already made enquiries at the Rahi Motel, a government run facility which is quite near the Railway Station and Bus Stand. Since this is a Government run hotel and since I would be there for barely a few hours, I did not book myself a room, rather I booked myself a dormitory bed. After having a hurried dinner at the attached restaurant, I took a bath in the frigid water and was off to sleep. Having secured my bags with chains to the bed's foot, my head barely made contact with the pillow when the "Evil Laughter" ringtone of my mobile phone woke me up at 4 AM in the morning.
Hardly comprehending where I was and what I was doing, in the memory of being in my bed at home I was about to deactivate the alarm and get back to sleep when my awareness caught up. Yesterday I had arranged with the attender with a reminder of 10 rupees to wake me at 0415 if I did not wake up by myself. A 0415 the helpful savant was promptly in the dorm and I thanked him with another 10 rupees which I hope made his day, because he for one set off happily to fetch me some tea.
Since hot water would be available only at 7AM, I had another bath in the freezing cold water. My chattering teeth and shivering limbs would have woken up the other people sleeping but I dressed fast and welcomed with great thanks the steaming cup of cardamom tea the attender brought me. At 0430 I had settled my dues and walked the few meters to the Bus stand.
The sweater I was wearing and the scarf I had around my head was very helpful in the early morning cold. Breathing light puffs of air reminiscent of the smoking I quit some months back, I walked into the station, bought the ticket standing in a short queue and boarded the bus.
Having reconned the route through the beloved Google Earth I knew that a window seat towards the right would be the best. Unfortunately the seat, though comfortably cushioned did not have much leg space. Condemning myself to a long drive with cramped legs I stowed my grip on the over head luggage area and kept my backpack under my knees and waited for the bus to start.
Breakfast at Devprayag was picturesque affair. The town at the confluence of Bhagirathi and Alakananda, two legendary tributaries of River Ganga was first seen as the road wound by a terraced hill. Nestled at the foothills of green clad mountain, this is the point from which River Ganga officially is formed from its main tributaries. The drive towards the town gave several beautiful vantages which made me bemoan my woeful lack of a good camera. Somehow I knew that the pitiable camera on my Karbonn K10, the poor man's Blackberry or the poor man's Koratty (QWERTY) phone would not do justice to this vision. The incredibly tasty Poori Masala at the bus's breakfast stop was a fitting accompaniment to the beautiful town.
Several more kilometers of picturesque mountain roads, with the River Alakananda to the right and sheer walls of mountains to the left now I am here at Srinagar. A rather unremarkable North Indian Thali meal having been consumed now I am sitting in my seat waiting for the bus to start. I am halfway on the last leg of my onward journey, a journey of 312 km of which around 185 kilometers is still ahead of me.
I am sure that this last leg would be the most picturesque of my travel.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Day Two - Memories
Today was a day of memories and quiet reflection. After all what else is one supposed to when cooped up inside a railway compartment?
I had checked the timetable in wiki and had also confirmed with the Ticket Inspector that we would be reaching Vijayawada at around 10.15 today morning. The greenish daylight streaming through the tinted glass of the window woke up me a long before that and I readied myself for a ritual I would be continuing after a gap of 16 or so years.
Until my fifth standard when I joined my school, the Bhavan's Vidya Mandir at Eroor, Tripunithura I used to live at New Delhi. Father was employed at Indian Airlines there and mother did her post graduation studies there. Until the last few years of my life a Dilli walla, as my maternal grandpa used to call me, the annual train ride from Delhi to Kerala and back was a routine affair. In the last years, viz, 1993, 1994 and 1995 the journey was made through flight.
However those train rides are amongst the most memorable events of my childhood. It was a tradition taught to me by my father that whenever we go through the railway bridge over River Krishna near Vijayawada Station we throw coins into the river. Mostly it was done from the window, but I do have a vague memory of a frightening throw from the open door of the compartment. Only once did I miss throwing of the coins and it marred my mood for the rest of the journey.
This time as a hefty heavy 24 year old, no more being a pussy and throwing the coin from the window. Besides windows in AC compartments can't be opened. So there I stood by the open door of the slowing train looking into the vast river below me. The sound of the echoing wheels magnified by the resonance of river bed was a scintillating experience. Adventurous I might purport myself to be, but foolhardy I am not, so it was only after maintaining a firm grip and even firmer foothold that I flung the 2 rupee coin to the depths of the river, hopefully never to be touched by a human hand again. Hopefully.
As I returned back to my seat and looked around at my fellow passengers settling down for the day, I thought back towards the various memories associated with these trips. Back then I was supposed to be a boisterous and rather cheeky little devil, insinuations I strongly oppose with threats of libel nowadays. But it was a truth that I mingled a lot more with people. I remember the Air Force guy who was the split image of movie star Mammootty. I had actually thought it was the legendary "Woody Shoveler" himself that I felt too intimidated to approach him. Finally collecting whatever courage I had at my 6 years of age, I went and talked to him. Turned out he is an Air Force guy, a Malayali going back home. For the next three days we were inseparable, always talking to each other, going to my parents only for food and sleep. I still remember him showing me his driving license which had him as an unrecognizable teen with a shaven head. Wonder where he is now!
Then of course there is that interesting young couple whose supposedly mysterious antics have revealed themselves to me as an adult. At that time, I just thought them such a nice and charming "Chetan" (brother) and "Chechi" (sister) who were both sleeping on the same middle berth. How uncomfortable! Why couldn't they sleep in their own individual berths? They would have been so much more comfortable. These puzzling questions are now revealed to the merriment of my dirty mind.
Another memory is that of the two youth with whom I had developed a great friendship. However since this bonhomie caused me to forget and miss throwing the coin into River Krishna, as mentioned earlier I was sullen forthwith.
All these memories of a long past childhood is awakened in me by the day's journey. The boisterousness that I was accused of having back then has long been extinct.
Rest of the day was spent mainly sleeping, reading and generally day dreaming by me. Only in the past few minutes have I been able to access the net. Apparently the glories to Airtel did not reach their headquarters. Might as well catch a few more winks as tomorrow is going to be a very busy day.
I had checked the timetable in wiki and had also confirmed with the Ticket Inspector that we would be reaching Vijayawada at around 10.15 today morning. The greenish daylight streaming through the tinted glass of the window woke up me a long before that and I readied myself for a ritual I would be continuing after a gap of 16 or so years.
Until my fifth standard when I joined my school, the Bhavan's Vidya Mandir at Eroor, Tripunithura I used to live at New Delhi. Father was employed at Indian Airlines there and mother did her post graduation studies there. Until the last few years of my life a Dilli walla, as my maternal grandpa used to call me, the annual train ride from Delhi to Kerala and back was a routine affair. In the last years, viz, 1993, 1994 and 1995 the journey was made through flight.
However those train rides are amongst the most memorable events of my childhood. It was a tradition taught to me by my father that whenever we go through the railway bridge over River Krishna near Vijayawada Station we throw coins into the river. Mostly it was done from the window, but I do have a vague memory of a frightening throw from the open door of the compartment. Only once did I miss throwing of the coins and it marred my mood for the rest of the journey.
This time as a hefty heavy 24 year old, no more being a pussy and throwing the coin from the window. Besides windows in AC compartments can't be opened. So there I stood by the open door of the slowing train looking into the vast river below me. The sound of the echoing wheels magnified by the resonance of river bed was a scintillating experience. Adventurous I might purport myself to be, but foolhardy I am not, so it was only after maintaining a firm grip and even firmer foothold that I flung the 2 rupee coin to the depths of the river, hopefully never to be touched by a human hand again. Hopefully.
As I returned back to my seat and looked around at my fellow passengers settling down for the day, I thought back towards the various memories associated with these trips. Back then I was supposed to be a boisterous and rather cheeky little devil, insinuations I strongly oppose with threats of libel nowadays. But it was a truth that I mingled a lot more with people. I remember the Air Force guy who was the split image of movie star Mammootty. I had actually thought it was the legendary "Woody Shoveler" himself that I felt too intimidated to approach him. Finally collecting whatever courage I had at my 6 years of age, I went and talked to him. Turned out he is an Air Force guy, a Malayali going back home. For the next three days we were inseparable, always talking to each other, going to my parents only for food and sleep. I still remember him showing me his driving license which had him as an unrecognizable teen with a shaven head. Wonder where he is now!
Then of course there is that interesting young couple whose supposedly mysterious antics have revealed themselves to me as an adult. At that time, I just thought them such a nice and charming "Chetan" (brother) and "Chechi" (sister) who were both sleeping on the same middle berth. How uncomfortable! Why couldn't they sleep in their own individual berths? They would have been so much more comfortable. These puzzling questions are now revealed to the merriment of my dirty mind.
Another memory is that of the two youth with whom I had developed a great friendship. However since this bonhomie caused me to forget and miss throwing the coin into River Krishna, as mentioned earlier I was sullen forthwith.
All these memories of a long past childhood is awakened in me by the day's journey. The boisterousness that I was accused of having back then has long been extinct.
Rest of the day was spent mainly sleeping, reading and generally day dreaming by me. Only in the past few minutes have I been able to access the net. Apparently the glories to Airtel did not reach their headquarters. Might as well catch a few more winks as tomorrow is going to be a very busy day.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Day One - Start
The train is chugging on to Coimbatore Railway Station. Already my stomach is grumbling due to hunger. The IRCTC supplier said we would get the food after leaving Coimbatore. Hope he is right.
It is officially 4 hours since my journey has begun. Carrying my trusted Wildcraft backpack and a shoulder grip I caught a bus to Ernakulam Junction, or as we Kochiites say, South Railway station. I thought of going by auto, but why waste good money for this short stretch when even more expenditure is in the offing in the next few days?
Ticket ready, I only had to wait for about 20 minutes when the Indian Railway gave me a rather pleasant surprise, the Kerala Express is 5 minutes early!! I am sure this would be one of those rare documentations of any train in India not only being punctual, but actually arriving early. Glory be to Mamta! Wish it was Mohandas, but alas it is Bannerjee.
It is after an extremely long time that I am undergoing such a long journey in train, that too in AC. As our inimitable Tharoor expressed to his sorrow, I am a patron of the "cattle class" general compartment or ordinary Sleeper compartment. However owing to the long nature of this journey, a 3 day leg from Ernakulam to New Delhi, I judged this to be a requisite luxury.
It has always been my observation that railway stations are vortexes where people from all walks of life can be seen. A train journey is in fact a microcosm of life. I dont know whether I have blogged about this before, but there you have it. You see people from all walks of life, you see so many interesting people, interesting sights and sounds, experience the overwhelming plethora of aroma that truly describes India in all its glory and vitality. However this cornucopia of experiences cannot be experienced from within the cloistered cubicles of AC compartments. Within the filtered and refrigerated air of AC compartments, where the world outside is separated by an insulated darkened piece of glass, there is a distinct separation which imparts a pall of gray upon the journey. No more hawkers, no more rain, no more sun light, no more smells of Chilli Bajji and open sewage, no more shrill cries of "Chaai, Chaai, Uzhunna vadaa, parippu vadaa". In AC compartments I have usually found that people are more stiff, despite the comfortable ambience. You would think that in the coolness of Air Conditioning and the inherent privacy offered by these exclusive compartments, people would become more freer. Unfortunately not as I observed around my fellow travelers.
There is this family, an uncle, aunty and two sons, one of whom is apparently being taken for admission into some college in New Delhi. Then there is this stern "Velma"ish girl who is traveling alone to who knows where and some business man guy, who spends all the time reading some MBA textbooks. I hoped the boys would provide some merriment, but alas, compared to them Vajpayee is a raving party animal. As is customary for all my fantasies regarding meeting cute girls in trains or buses, the stern visage of Ms. Uber Serious put paid to that. Rather unfortunate that even ocular enjoyment could not even be had in this case. As I said to a cousin brother recently, Paapi Chennidam Pathalam (Wherever a Sinner goes, Hell would follow).
Since there is no entertainment to be had from within the compartment, the speeding countryside through the darkened windows had to do. Standing my the compartment window and watching the sunset did offer a respite, but otherwise I had to depend on the laptop I "procured" from my mother to banish the boredom.
Since this trip is going to be rather longish, it would be reckless if I burn up the batteries on the first leg of the travel itself.
And now I hear the sounds of the supplier bringing in the food trays, and thus heralding an activity that takes precedence over any mundane activity such as blogging.
So paying a final tribute to Airtel GPRS which is helping me make this blogpost, I am signing off.
Wish me Bon Appetit. :D
It is officially 4 hours since my journey has begun. Carrying my trusted Wildcraft backpack and a shoulder grip I caught a bus to Ernakulam Junction, or as we Kochiites say, South Railway station. I thought of going by auto, but why waste good money for this short stretch when even more expenditure is in the offing in the next few days?
Ticket ready, I only had to wait for about 20 minutes when the Indian Railway gave me a rather pleasant surprise, the Kerala Express is 5 minutes early!! I am sure this would be one of those rare documentations of any train in India not only being punctual, but actually arriving early. Glory be to Mamta! Wish it was Mohandas, but alas it is Bannerjee.
It is after an extremely long time that I am undergoing such a long journey in train, that too in AC. As our inimitable Tharoor expressed to his sorrow, I am a patron of the "cattle class" general compartment or ordinary Sleeper compartment. However owing to the long nature of this journey, a 3 day leg from Ernakulam to New Delhi, I judged this to be a requisite luxury.
It has always been my observation that railway stations are vortexes where people from all walks of life can be seen. A train journey is in fact a microcosm of life. I dont know whether I have blogged about this before, but there you have it. You see people from all walks of life, you see so many interesting people, interesting sights and sounds, experience the overwhelming plethora of aroma that truly describes India in all its glory and vitality. However this cornucopia of experiences cannot be experienced from within the cloistered cubicles of AC compartments. Within the filtered and refrigerated air of AC compartments, where the world outside is separated by an insulated darkened piece of glass, there is a distinct separation which imparts a pall of gray upon the journey. No more hawkers, no more rain, no more sun light, no more smells of Chilli Bajji and open sewage, no more shrill cries of "Chaai, Chaai, Uzhunna vadaa, parippu vadaa". In AC compartments I have usually found that people are more stiff, despite the comfortable ambience. You would think that in the coolness of Air Conditioning and the inherent privacy offered by these exclusive compartments, people would become more freer. Unfortunately not as I observed around my fellow travelers.
There is this family, an uncle, aunty and two sons, one of whom is apparently being taken for admission into some college in New Delhi. Then there is this stern "Velma"ish girl who is traveling alone to who knows where and some business man guy, who spends all the time reading some MBA textbooks. I hoped the boys would provide some merriment, but alas, compared to them Vajpayee is a raving party animal. As is customary for all my fantasies regarding meeting cute girls in trains or buses, the stern visage of Ms. Uber Serious put paid to that. Rather unfortunate that even ocular enjoyment could not even be had in this case. As I said to a cousin brother recently, Paapi Chennidam Pathalam (Wherever a Sinner goes, Hell would follow).
Since there is no entertainment to be had from within the compartment, the speeding countryside through the darkened windows had to do. Standing my the compartment window and watching the sunset did offer a respite, but otherwise I had to depend on the laptop I "procured" from my mother to banish the boredom.
Since this trip is going to be rather longish, it would be reckless if I burn up the batteries on the first leg of the travel itself.
And now I hear the sounds of the supplier bringing in the food trays, and thus heralding an activity that takes precedence over any mundane activity such as blogging.
So paying a final tribute to Airtel GPRS which is helping me make this blogpost, I am signing off.
Wish me Bon Appetit. :D
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Closet Megalomaniac
Everyone of us has some pet fantasy. Some fantasies are innocent, but some are downright criminal. I consider my fantasy to be megalomania, a fantasy I am proud to share with other stalwarts like Alexander (The Great one), Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler, George Dubya Bush, V.S. Achutanandan and Mangalassery Neelakantan.
Now I do not claim to fit into the ranks of these people, a proven deficiency in smart leadership skills mean that I would never actually wield the power to bring effect to my megalomania.
No, my megalomania is more expressed through my day dreams and for the past 2+years through my writing. No millions shall suffer, only about a few dozen hapless chaps.
Just like most momentous things in life, my association with Cybernations started on a lark in December 2007. Settling into my tenure as a CI (Chumma Irippu (Sitting Idly)) random browsing brought me to this site. A massively multiplayer online role playing game, it caught my fancy when i was looking for an alternative to Age of Empires 2, that archaic game which however was most loved by me. A purely text based game this was something I could play more safely. The embarrassment and shame of getting one's car careening off perfectly good roads and of oneself being made a human strainer mere seconds into the game can be avoided in this particular game.
Thus started an addiction that required but mere minutes per day, but every day. A new world was opened up for me, a world where inter personal relationships is the name of the game, a game where one's identity was forever replaced by a virtual alias. This association in time brought me in contact with the subject matter of this diatribe.
Cybernations Role Playing, or CNRP is an alternate history role playing timeline where we act out as nations on the world map. The geography is the same but the political and demographic pattern is entirely different. Starting from Western China and Kazakhstan , now I control India as part of the Kingdom of Cochin.
More than an year of RPing has literally been a dream come true. All my pet fantasies I have been able to portray with words in this medium. As a person with an unhealthy interest in things military, here I am able to RP massive armies, navies and air forces. I am able to create visualizations of combat scenes of my own imaginations. All the characters of my various megalomaniac dreams, the rugged and spartan General, the suave and gentleman diplomat, the wise and philosophical King, the troubled middle aged man, in short all fantasies which I dream of living I have portrayed here in varying degrees of success. Some have been downright shabby, testament to my immaturity as a writer failing to impress even my own deplorable standards of critique, but some living up to my expectations.
Now here is a coronation scene that I visualized. Of course it is downright silly and stupid, but somehow satisfying to my fantasies!
Coronation
Here is an attempt to visualize my long cherished dream of travel to Himalayas which came out disastrously. Something I started writing with lots of hopes, crashed and burned like a Chinese made fighter jet flown by PAF.
Refuge in Recluse
Another portrayal of various characters in my imagination. Again works in progress, though the commando one i liked, however unrealistic it is.
Perspectives and Perceptions
Then of course the ridiculously named Space Station and various other portrayal of my favorite technologies.
All these have been churned out to satisfy my megalomaniac impulses. Since my long dead ancestors so willingly ceded their Kingdoms to the Republic of India and since I do not deem myself smart enough to be a politician, this is the only avenue left open to me. Now for those who accuse me of plain wild fantasy I challenge them to bring forthwith any building permits required for constructing castles in the sky.
It is also an attempt to develop my feeble writing abilities. It is a part of my long term strategy of subtle sadism under which I intend to torture more and more people with my writing. Ever since this blog of mine raised some disheartening comments from well wishers, CNRP provided an anonymous channel to vent out my ideas.
A concentration of exceedingly talented and gifted writers in that community however has been successful in periodically bringing me back to crushing reality. Then of course I also try to copy from their style, forgive me lynneth, sarah and co.
Well this diatribe anyway petered out nonsensically as it was supposed to so, bye. Do read the forums where these threads lie, you may read some excellent write ups by other role players over there. Look for the above two thread starters, :)
Now I do not claim to fit into the ranks of these people, a proven deficiency in smart leadership skills mean that I would never actually wield the power to bring effect to my megalomania.
No, my megalomania is more expressed through my day dreams and for the past 2+years through my writing. No millions shall suffer, only about a few dozen hapless chaps.
Just like most momentous things in life, my association with Cybernations started on a lark in December 2007. Settling into my tenure as a CI (Chumma Irippu (Sitting Idly)) random browsing brought me to this site. A massively multiplayer online role playing game, it caught my fancy when i was looking for an alternative to Age of Empires 2, that archaic game which however was most loved by me. A purely text based game this was something I could play more safely. The embarrassment and shame of getting one's car careening off perfectly good roads and of oneself being made a human strainer mere seconds into the game can be avoided in this particular game.
Thus started an addiction that required but mere minutes per day, but every day. A new world was opened up for me, a world where inter personal relationships is the name of the game, a game where one's identity was forever replaced by a virtual alias. This association in time brought me in contact with the subject matter of this diatribe.
Cybernations Role Playing, or CNRP is an alternate history role playing timeline where we act out as nations on the world map. The geography is the same but the political and demographic pattern is entirely different. Starting from Western China and Kazakhstan , now I control India as part of the Kingdom of Cochin.
More than an year of RPing has literally been a dream come true. All my pet fantasies I have been able to portray with words in this medium. As a person with an unhealthy interest in things military, here I am able to RP massive armies, navies and air forces. I am able to create visualizations of combat scenes of my own imaginations. All the characters of my various megalomaniac dreams, the rugged and spartan General, the suave and gentleman diplomat, the wise and philosophical King, the troubled middle aged man, in short all fantasies which I dream of living I have portrayed here in varying degrees of success. Some have been downright shabby, testament to my immaturity as a writer failing to impress even my own deplorable standards of critique, but some living up to my expectations.
Now here is a coronation scene that I visualized. Of course it is downright silly and stupid, but somehow satisfying to my fantasies!
Coronation
Here is an attempt to visualize my long cherished dream of travel to Himalayas which came out disastrously. Something I started writing with lots of hopes, crashed and burned like a Chinese made fighter jet flown by PAF.
Refuge in Recluse
Another portrayal of various characters in my imagination. Again works in progress, though the commando one i liked, however unrealistic it is.
Perspectives and Perceptions
Then of course the ridiculously named Space Station and various other portrayal of my favorite technologies.
All these have been churned out to satisfy my megalomaniac impulses. Since my long dead ancestors so willingly ceded their Kingdoms to the Republic of India and since I do not deem myself smart enough to be a politician, this is the only avenue left open to me. Now for those who accuse me of plain wild fantasy I challenge them to bring forthwith any building permits required for constructing castles in the sky.
It is also an attempt to develop my feeble writing abilities. It is a part of my long term strategy of subtle sadism under which I intend to torture more and more people with my writing. Ever since this blog of mine raised some disheartening comments from well wishers, CNRP provided an anonymous channel to vent out my ideas.
A concentration of exceedingly talented and gifted writers in that community however has been successful in periodically bringing me back to crushing reality. Then of course I also try to copy from their style, forgive me lynneth, sarah and co.
Well this diatribe anyway petered out nonsensically as it was supposed to so, bye. Do read the forums where these threads lie, you may read some excellent write ups by other role players over there. Look for the above two thread starters, :)
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Fokkers and Messerschmitts
Now please do not fall for the title which is bound to enthuse aviation enthusiasts. This post is not about aeroplanes. The title is in fact a subterfuge to mask my reluctance to use the word fuck in the title itself.
Now any reasonably intelligent adult knows the meaning of this popular word, and sadly a large percentage of our teenage population too. Especially for us malayalees this is a word that has been popularized as part of thrilling vocabulary of our super human film actors, like Suresh Gopi and Mohan Lal.
Now the etymology of this word is rather complex and I give that job to my trusty sidekick, Senor Wikipedia. Disambiguating the word, the old faithful would also show you that unfortunate village in Austria and of course the protagonist from the title.
Now before I meander further let me get back to the premise of this post.
A short while ago, I read a lamentation by a friend of mine that she just heard her 11 year old brother using this in connection with some forgetfulness regarding his bike. The concerned elder sister was worrying about the state of the teenagers these days when I considered, did the kid know the meaning of this word when he used it or did he use it just as part of a generic swear vocabulary?
That took me back to my schooling days, an era when I was woefully immature and worldly unaware compared to my peers. The crash course in world awareness that I received in my immediate post schooling weeks was far away in an unseen distant future at the time of this flashback. This was the time when the word "Fuck" became popular in our school, at least to my perception. At every intervals, and even during classes when the teacher's attention is drawn to the misnamed black board, guys used to flash their middle finger at each other, and the recipients used to genuinely flinch as if this was some curse bestowed upon him by the rowdy flasher.
As a perennial idiot it took me a rather long time to figure out that this flashing of middle finger was equivalent to a swear, the number of hands involved showing the magnitude of implied swear. Of course the fact that this involved me being bestowed this tertius greeting innumerable times.
Those days I used to walk home from the bus stop with a good friend of mine, a more world wise and swear wise friend of mine. I must say rather a major part of my middle finger quota was received from this esteemed gent. As an extremely timid, innocent and extremely stupid kid I was afraid of using the middle finger. But this one day angry after around 73 middle finger flashes I finally took courage and showed him the finger.
Like Wild Bill Hickok drawing his trusty 1851 .36 Navys, three fingers curled upon themselves, leaving an erect thumb and middle finger and the hand was raised. The shock that was exhibited by my cunning friend however brought a massive remorse upon me. Habitual loser that I was I apologized to him, repeatedly. Finally after innumerable "how could you"s and "Sorry, sorry, sorry"s he finally told me that the gesture stood for the word "Fuck."
I was nonplussed. I had never heard of the word before and had no idea why that should have such grave connotations!
I asked him what is its meaning. This friend of mine, well knowledgeable though he was about my very many idiocies was goggling at me his mouth wide open and his eyes projecting outwards. A few more seconds and he would have been a case destined for an ophthalmologist.
The astonishment was replaced with a burst of wild laughter. Career etymologists please take note, this incident which happened in 1997-98 could be the first exhibition of "Roll On The Floor with Laughter".
The determined me, kept on the case and again asked him the meaning of the word. A few minutes later when his laughter subsided he told me he could not explain it to me, he has no idea how to explain it to me. Then he pleaded laughter induced stomach ache as an excuse and went home.
Perplexed and confused I went home and took out my trusted World Book Encyclopedia. The 24 volume leather bound encyclopedia had been my trusted adviser for years, solving almost all my doubts. However World Book was not helpful. I took out Oxford English Dictionary. The vaunted product of tall and shiny crania of the mossy English college was also unhelpful. Finally I took out DC Books Dictionary, a more earthy work of language. And there the meaning of the word was explained very concisely. However now that I understood the meaning of the word and the implied meaning of the swear word I was confused as to how it is a derogatory insult?
That is a confusion that has lasted in me till now. As a 24 year old virgin male, I would consider some one accusing me of having sex as rather a complement, not an insult. But I suppose some people would consider that as an insult, committed celebates, unmarried chaste women etc.
This is why I am bemused when a lot of people use this word as part of their daily vocabulary.
You dislike a person? Call him "Fuck You." Now is that not a positive statement? Expressing an intent of having sexual relations is obviously an expression of complement! How is that an insult?
When your vehicle refuses to start or a particularly nasty piece of work ruins your day, your exasperation calls upon you to state, "Fuck it." Now that is a biological impossibility!
All these millions of people all over the world who use this word, are they really aware of what they are really saying? Even people who are officially aware of its meaning, use it without comprehending it as a regular phrase of choice, then how can anyone blame innocent kids for using this phrase in order to look "cool" ?
It is all rather confusing for me, I wonder whether I would ever understand the implications of all those phrases we use this word with, I wonder whether I even want to know, :P
Now any reasonably intelligent adult knows the meaning of this popular word, and sadly a large percentage of our teenage population too. Especially for us malayalees this is a word that has been popularized as part of thrilling vocabulary of our super human film actors, like Suresh Gopi and Mohan Lal.
Now the etymology of this word is rather complex and I give that job to my trusty sidekick, Senor Wikipedia. Disambiguating the word, the old faithful would also show you that unfortunate village in Austria and of course the protagonist from the title.
Now before I meander further let me get back to the premise of this post.
A short while ago, I read a lamentation by a friend of mine that she just heard her 11 year old brother using this in connection with some forgetfulness regarding his bike. The concerned elder sister was worrying about the state of the teenagers these days when I considered, did the kid know the meaning of this word when he used it or did he use it just as part of a generic swear vocabulary?
That took me back to my schooling days, an era when I was woefully immature and worldly unaware compared to my peers. The crash course in world awareness that I received in my immediate post schooling weeks was far away in an unseen distant future at the time of this flashback. This was the time when the word "Fuck" became popular in our school, at least to my perception. At every intervals, and even during classes when the teacher's attention is drawn to the misnamed black board, guys used to flash their middle finger at each other, and the recipients used to genuinely flinch as if this was some curse bestowed upon him by the rowdy flasher.
As a perennial idiot it took me a rather long time to figure out that this flashing of middle finger was equivalent to a swear, the number of hands involved showing the magnitude of implied swear. Of course the fact that this involved me being bestowed this tertius greeting innumerable times.
Those days I used to walk home from the bus stop with a good friend of mine, a more world wise and swear wise friend of mine. I must say rather a major part of my middle finger quota was received from this esteemed gent. As an extremely timid, innocent and extremely stupid kid I was afraid of using the middle finger. But this one day angry after around 73 middle finger flashes I finally took courage and showed him the finger.
Like Wild Bill Hickok drawing his trusty 1851 .36 Navys, three fingers curled upon themselves, leaving an erect thumb and middle finger and the hand was raised. The shock that was exhibited by my cunning friend however brought a massive remorse upon me. Habitual loser that I was I apologized to him, repeatedly. Finally after innumerable "how could you"s and "Sorry, sorry, sorry"s he finally told me that the gesture stood for the word "Fuck."
I was nonplussed. I had never heard of the word before and had no idea why that should have such grave connotations!
I asked him what is its meaning. This friend of mine, well knowledgeable though he was about my very many idiocies was goggling at me his mouth wide open and his eyes projecting outwards. A few more seconds and he would have been a case destined for an ophthalmologist.
The astonishment was replaced with a burst of wild laughter. Career etymologists please take note, this incident which happened in 1997-98 could be the first exhibition of "Roll On The Floor with Laughter".
The determined me, kept on the case and again asked him the meaning of the word. A few minutes later when his laughter subsided he told me he could not explain it to me, he has no idea how to explain it to me. Then he pleaded laughter induced stomach ache as an excuse and went home.
Perplexed and confused I went home and took out my trusted World Book Encyclopedia. The 24 volume leather bound encyclopedia had been my trusted adviser for years, solving almost all my doubts. However World Book was not helpful. I took out Oxford English Dictionary. The vaunted product of tall and shiny crania of the mossy English college was also unhelpful. Finally I took out DC Books Dictionary, a more earthy work of language. And there the meaning of the word was explained very concisely. However now that I understood the meaning of the word and the implied meaning of the swear word I was confused as to how it is a derogatory insult?
That is a confusion that has lasted in me till now. As a 24 year old virgin male, I would consider some one accusing me of having sex as rather a complement, not an insult. But I suppose some people would consider that as an insult, committed celebates, unmarried chaste women etc.
This is why I am bemused when a lot of people use this word as part of their daily vocabulary.
You dislike a person? Call him "Fuck You." Now is that not a positive statement? Expressing an intent of having sexual relations is obviously an expression of complement! How is that an insult?
When your vehicle refuses to start or a particularly nasty piece of work ruins your day, your exasperation calls upon you to state, "Fuck it." Now that is a biological impossibility!
All these millions of people all over the world who use this word, are they really aware of what they are really saying? Even people who are officially aware of its meaning, use it without comprehending it as a regular phrase of choice, then how can anyone blame innocent kids for using this phrase in order to look "cool" ?
It is all rather confusing for me, I wonder whether I would ever understand the implications of all those phrases we use this word with, I wonder whether I even want to know, :P
Friday, May 14, 2010
Blog Mania
Of late I have been following a lot of interesting blogs and twitter pages. It is rather remarkable with the availability of this easy publishing tool so much creativity is being shared. All those inhumanly funny people, who could not afford to vent out their jokes in public for fear of bodily harm can now air it openly without fear of immediate physical response. Though the improvement in transportation technology and emergent technologies would make sure that the time delay in response would be bridged. Especially if the protagonists are just across the building or office.
However the fact remains, a lot more humorists now have an avenue. Then there are the intellectuals who have found a platform to articulate their wisdom without fear of being chastised by the less cerebral of their more muscular peers. Here they can truly live up to their mental image of intellectual wisdom and bask in satisfaction of finally doing a Galileo without the spiked drink after effects.
Then of course there are the self styled educators, who finally gain a platform to spread their knowledge to the invisible and ignorant masses. These are people whose knowledge and ideas are forced to be suppressed by occasional outbursts from the ignorants like, "Says Who?" "Do you have a degree to prove your credentials?". In an age where the letters on a parchment is the arbiter of intelligence and social worth of a person, an engineer is not supposed to speak about history, an undergraduate is not supposed to speak authoritatively on any subject to a graduate, let alone or a post graduate. However in the rarified reaches of internet, where degrees are mere pixels, unproven, unverified, it is a true battle of knowledge, the way it should have been in the real life.
Now this post is not a glorious tribute to these literati. It is to ask another simple question: What the hell are non humorous, non articulative, non intellectual masses like Yours Only supposed to do? Should people with inconsequential literary capabilities be permitted to publish? Should mediocrity exist alongside excellence?
I think yes. After all how would you recognize the worth of a diamond if it is not surrounded by tons of dirt? If it lies in a heap of diamonds, it is just yet another sparkling stone.
Coming back to blogging and tweeting, this is another aspect I have noted, retweets and "following". While there are people like me who acknowledge the incurable deficiency of the humor bone and try to live with this misfortune, there are those who wildly want to be acknowledged as humorous.
Of course they spare us the horrors of having to read works of their exalted cranium, but they lose no chance of retweeting contents of the most popular blogs or twitter pages. Just like the early days of orkut when a person's e-peen was measured by the number of "friends" a person has and a person's "coolness" is measured by the communities they are part of, now it is the blogs they follow, and the tweets they retweet.
Anyway now I dont seem to find any more nonsense to write about, so might as well post it.
However the fact remains, a lot more humorists now have an avenue. Then there are the intellectuals who have found a platform to articulate their wisdom without fear of being chastised by the less cerebral of their more muscular peers. Here they can truly live up to their mental image of intellectual wisdom and bask in satisfaction of finally doing a Galileo without the spiked drink after effects.
Then of course there are the self styled educators, who finally gain a platform to spread their knowledge to the invisible and ignorant masses. These are people whose knowledge and ideas are forced to be suppressed by occasional outbursts from the ignorants like, "Says Who?" "Do you have a degree to prove your credentials?". In an age where the letters on a parchment is the arbiter of intelligence and social worth of a person, an engineer is not supposed to speak about history, an undergraduate is not supposed to speak authoritatively on any subject to a graduate, let alone or a post graduate. However in the rarified reaches of internet, where degrees are mere pixels, unproven, unverified, it is a true battle of knowledge, the way it should have been in the real life.
Now this post is not a glorious tribute to these literati. It is to ask another simple question: What the hell are non humorous, non articulative, non intellectual masses like Yours Only supposed to do? Should people with inconsequential literary capabilities be permitted to publish? Should mediocrity exist alongside excellence?
I think yes. After all how would you recognize the worth of a diamond if it is not surrounded by tons of dirt? If it lies in a heap of diamonds, it is just yet another sparkling stone.
Coming back to blogging and tweeting, this is another aspect I have noted, retweets and "following". While there are people like me who acknowledge the incurable deficiency of the humor bone and try to live with this misfortune, there are those who wildly want to be acknowledged as humorous.
Of course they spare us the horrors of having to read works of their exalted cranium, but they lose no chance of retweeting contents of the most popular blogs or twitter pages. Just like the early days of orkut when a person's e-peen was measured by the number of "friends" a person has and a person's "coolness" is measured by the communities they are part of, now it is the blogs they follow, and the tweets they retweet.
Anyway now I dont seem to find any more nonsense to write about, so might as well post it.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Another terrorist convicted - Another Afzal Guru???
Ajmal Kasab, the rampager, has been sentenced to death by hanging. Quite deserving of applause, this judgment is. However I hardly think he, or his supporters would lose a moment's cool by this act, which may prove only a prelude to the drama to be unleashed by the lotus eaters of Indian polity.
On the day Ajmal Kasab has been sentenced to death, a number of Indians ask this question. Six years back, another terrorist was sentenced to death. He is still living, having evaded his sentence for the past 4 years. The person who master minded an attack on the very symbol of India's democracy, still lives under the patronage of Indian Taxpayer. By all accounts it looks like he is assured of a safe and secure future with full facilities in Indian Penal System.
I would not be surprised if Kasab also received the same treatment. Most likely 5 years from today, we would still be seeing clemency requests filed on behalf of these terrorists by the exalted "human rights groups.
There are people who raise the arguments about our being a civilized society, about the disdain for "an eye for an eye". Sure closseted in their safe and secure environs, they can claim so. However they forget that the moment society loses the belief in crime and punishment, law and order would fail.
Not long ago TV news channels had run back to back videos of mob atrocities, people taking law into their hands to punish criminals. Those were truly ugly scenes. Those are the results of the above mentioned loss of trust in law and order. When judiciary and government proves themselves unwilling to protect the citizens, the people are bound to take the law into their own hands. Otherwise it is unrealistic to expect people to lie down and let their lives be violated with impunity.
Kasab should be executed, and there should not be any extension to his sentence. Let there not be another mockery of India. For each day these terrorists live beyond their sentenced hour, the terrorists and anti-national forces get emboldened.
Imprisonment is no punishment for them either. For certain classes of criminals death is the only punishment. Incarceration is for two purposes, rehabilitation and punishment. These criminals refuse to be rehabilitated. They are supposed to be incarcerated, aka removed from society to prevent their harms upon it, but it rarely works that way. We know several instances of criminals operating from within the walls of prisons. Even a state was ruled from within prison. Also these terrorists being incarcerated only create more opportunities and enticements for further terrorist acts.
Another Rubaiyya Sayeed incident and our political over lords would bend over backwards and further beyond to protect one of their own, even if it is to release most deadly criminals. Another Kandahar incident and countless innocent citizens would be put under threat of death to free these scum. Why create such opportunities?
These scum have been interrogated extensively, every last bit of intelligence has been extracted, their complicity and the hand of their parent nation has been proved beyond reproach. Now enough with dossier bombing and just execute him.
Society needs retribution, society needs revenge. Provide it, else society will take matters into its own hands. Then things would get ugly. Very ugly indeed.
On the day Ajmal Kasab has been sentenced to death, a number of Indians ask this question. Six years back, another terrorist was sentenced to death. He is still living, having evaded his sentence for the past 4 years. The person who master minded an attack on the very symbol of India's democracy, still lives under the patronage of Indian Taxpayer. By all accounts it looks like he is assured of a safe and secure future with full facilities in Indian Penal System.
I would not be surprised if Kasab also received the same treatment. Most likely 5 years from today, we would still be seeing clemency requests filed on behalf of these terrorists by the exalted "human rights groups.
There are people who raise the arguments about our being a civilized society, about the disdain for "an eye for an eye". Sure closseted in their safe and secure environs, they can claim so. However they forget that the moment society loses the belief in crime and punishment, law and order would fail.
Not long ago TV news channels had run back to back videos of mob atrocities, people taking law into their hands to punish criminals. Those were truly ugly scenes. Those are the results of the above mentioned loss of trust in law and order. When judiciary and government proves themselves unwilling to protect the citizens, the people are bound to take the law into their own hands. Otherwise it is unrealistic to expect people to lie down and let their lives be violated with impunity.
Kasab should be executed, and there should not be any extension to his sentence. Let there not be another mockery of India. For each day these terrorists live beyond their sentenced hour, the terrorists and anti-national forces get emboldened.
Imprisonment is no punishment for them either. For certain classes of criminals death is the only punishment. Incarceration is for two purposes, rehabilitation and punishment. These criminals refuse to be rehabilitated. They are supposed to be incarcerated, aka removed from society to prevent their harms upon it, but it rarely works that way. We know several instances of criminals operating from within the walls of prisons. Even a state was ruled from within prison. Also these terrorists being incarcerated only create more opportunities and enticements for further terrorist acts.
Another Rubaiyya Sayeed incident and our political over lords would bend over backwards and further beyond to protect one of their own, even if it is to release most deadly criminals. Another Kandahar incident and countless innocent citizens would be put under threat of death to free these scum. Why create such opportunities?
These scum have been interrogated extensively, every last bit of intelligence has been extracted, their complicity and the hand of their parent nation has been proved beyond reproach. Now enough with dossier bombing and just execute him.
Society needs retribution, society needs revenge. Provide it, else society will take matters into its own hands. Then things would get ugly. Very ugly indeed.
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