QRD

amitsweb : Dunno what I am going to do ..
sayan1984 : What if they ask questions from LOTR*? Neither of us know the syllabus..There is no evidence that LOTR is not included..
amitsweb : Let's guess what could come..umm..what was the configuration of the ring ?
sayan1984 : The ring was in a very stable state; no amount of annealing by fire would change its configuration. Hence it was in the lowest possible Gibb's energy configuration.
amitsweb : Draw the trajectory of the ring under the influence of all the characters of the book and show how the world line of the characters behave when the ring is in their vicinity. How do you think the theory of relativity would be changed if such a ring really exists?
sayan1984 : Such a ring affects characters at a distance; hence in a classical form the ring's effect would violate the laws of relativity. We would have to invent a new interaction particle. I name it Ringon, or Ringons in plural. It is a massless chargeless boson travelling at the speed of light and carrying the information about the ring to the different characters. Happy?
amitsweb : Well..
sayan1984 : The resulting theory will be called Quantum Ringo Dynamics, or QRD in short, which will be consistent with both the standard model and relativity. How is that ?
amitsweb : How do you explain the conservation of energy when the Ringons hit the characters ?
sayan1984 : Ringo Electric Effect. And Ringons carry an energy $h \nu$
amitsweb : And a suitable form of the Ringon wave function ?
sayan1984 : $e^{i(k r-\omega t)}$.

*Lord of the Ring
 

Note : Today I found out this piece of conversation (took place between me and my friend Sayan at 1:44 a.m. on 15th February, 2006, a couple of days before JEST 2006) from the enormous chat history of my oldest Google account. A few minor changes (translational only) have been made for the sake of clarity. Sayan topped JEST 2006.

Why did Mrs. Mukherjee commit suicide

Mr. Manoj Mukherjee, 32, died of cardiac arrest on last Monday in his residence at Baghbazaar Street. The cause of the death was confirmed by the police officials, but the doctors were very surprised due to the expression of utmost terror on late Mr. Mukherjee's face. Two days after this mishap, Mrs. Manoneeta Mukherjee, 27, were found unconscious in the same room with a large amount of sedative in her stomach. Authority is suspecting a suicide attempt, but the probable causes apart from her husband's death are yet to be found out. The neighbours, alerted by the maid in the morning, called the police. Police shifted Mrs. Mukherjee to hospital. They are waiting to interrogate her when the doctors permit.
===================================================
Manoneeta switched off the television and glanced at the wall clock. Only fifteen minutes before, the clock announced midnight when Aragorn, the king of Gondor, was crowned by Gandalf. This was the third time Manoneeta watched the concluding venture of the Lord of the Rings, and yet again she felt the same awe that she felt the first time. The first time was the sweetest memory of Manoneeta's life..Manoj took her to the movie, and proposed her during the interval. The memory of the second half was blurry..except Manoj's eyes.

Manoneeta yawned. It was half past midnight. She thought she would sleep, or she would be late to school tomorrow. Manoj was already in bed, following his health schedule - bed at 11:00 p.m. sharp and rise at 6:00 a.m. He used to be a late riser..Manoneeta remembered the countless late night movies they enjoyed together. During their undergrad days, Manoj was a movie freak. Manoneeta watched hundreds of great movies according to his advice, and never regretted. Arts graduate Manoj dreamed to be a film-maker, but ended up being a bank employee.

But Manoj had this very great problem - he was Phasmophobic. He could not stand horror movies or ghost stories. If somebody mentioned the word 'ghost', Manoj was scared to death. On the contrary, Manoneeta enjoyed horror movies very much. At first, she tried to make Manoj watch scary movies, but the effects were sleepless nights and hysteric agitations on Manoj's side. Slowly Manoneeta realized that Manoj's fright was to the point of abnormality, and she convinced him to consult a psychiatrist for counselling last year. As of now, the treatment had not improved him much. 'It will take time', the psychiatrist said, 'so you must be patient with him, Mrs. Mukherjee'.

Apart from his nervous disorder, he had to take medicine regularly to keep control over his high blood pressure that he inherited as an heir of the Mukherjee family. He lost his parents in his childhood, grew up at his uncle's, and was established practically all by himself. But he was very careless about himself..he only wore an ironed trouser on the day of interview for his job, and that too was due to Manoneeta's constant insistence. Manoneeta, from the day they got married, took every responsibility of Manoj. She was the perfect wife, and she loved to be one.

Manoj's health became Manoneeta's obsession. She put Manoj to a very strict routine. She made him take medicine regularly, controlled his diet as their family physician prescribed and made him stop working late at night. She abandoned watching horror movies and gave away all the story books that indexed even a single ghost story. Once a relative tried to frighten Manoj by gifting him a DVD of Bram Stoker's Dracula, and Manoneeta stopped talking to their family.

Manoneeta got up from the drawing-room couch, picked up a white bed-sheet from the divan and wore it. Winter was announcing her approach at the early December nights. She freshened up, turned off the drawing room light and entered their bedroom. Manoj was fast asleep, snoring slightly with his mouth wide open. Manoneeta lifted the mosquito-net and was just about to enter her side of the bed when she noticed 'The Little Prince', half opened, lying on Manoj's chest. Manoneeta reached to get the book..

All of a sudden, Manoj let out a scream. Manoneeta turned to him and saw his grayish, disoriented face..his eyes, bulging out of fear, were fixed upon Manoneeta. He clutched his chest, his face frowning with pain, and gasped as if his throat was chocked. His body crumpled and rolled over to the other side of the bed, shaking madly for seconds, and then he fell from the bed..motionless.

Aajmal's Story

Aajmal took out a plastic envelop from the deep of his drawer. It contained a bunch of photographs - some in black and white, and some in colours - of a boy and a girl in a restaurant of south Kolkata. Aajmal stared at the photographs for a while. Jayita was looking as beautiful as ever in her aasmani salwar, smiling at Aajmal from the photograph. She bought the digital camera just the day before, and inaugurated it with Aajmal. 'My best friend would be the first to be captured by my camera', she said,' and I shall treasure the picture forever', looking straight into Aajmal's eyes... she had such beautiful, magical eyes.

But there was a difference. Aajmal realized that he was only looking at the pictures from a distance. He was suddenly aware of the fact that the moments captured in those pictures are over. It was like waking up from a very sound sleep. Indeed, he woke up from a long-due sleep minutes ago. Aajmal smiled grimly, sat in silence for a while, and then took out his lighter from his shirt-pocket.

He had tried to do this before - may be hundreds of times - and failed. He knew that he had copies of those photographs online..they were mailed to him by Jayita. So burning those picture did not mean losing them. But every time he lit up his lighter, he got scared. The pictures were his refuge from reality - he could not destroy them.

But now things were different. Aajmal could feel it. He knew that the enchantment of those pictures could no longer hold him from destroying them. He was confident and more content than ever. He flamed the first one. It burned..just like any other piece of paper. Aajmal let out a sigh of relief, and flamed the rest including the envelope.

He opened the window and a blast of wind took the ashes away.

****

Aajmal saw Jayita in the chemistry class for the first time. She was a maths honours, like him. She looked frightened on the first day in college, like him. She came searching for a seat, spotted the one beside Aajmal's, sat down and smiled shyly at him, like he did. And they became friends.

Like every other friends, they studied together, bantered long by telephone and tasted papdi chat, fuchka and different flavours of ice cream at roadside stalls. Aajmal knew that he could tell everything to her, and thought she would tell everything to him. They were best friends - everybody knew that - but just friends, thank you very much. Jayita had a boyfriend from high school, and Aajmal had a girlfriend in college. Yet, Aajmal sensed a necessity for Jayita..he did not know why.

By the end of college, Jayita broke up with her boyfriend. She did not pour Aajmal with the necessary details, but her grim expressions were revealing the worst. Once again Aajmal became her refuge, and then they parted. Jayita went abroad for higher studies, and Aajmal took a job. His relationship also was not going smoothly enough. His girlfriend was too possessive and did not like Jayita at all. They had a row concerning Jayita, and she left Aajmal.

That was Aajmal's first break up, but surprisingly it did not hurt much. Instead, he felt totally empty..no friends, especially the absence of Jayita was killing him. He felt as if his shelter from the dry reality was taken away from him..and that was the first time he realized that he loved her like he loved nobody else in his entire life. When did he crossed over the barrier - he never knew.

They talked at least twice a weak, but Aajmal could never express his feelings to her. He did not know whether she loved him..and he could not ask, for he feared of losing a friend if she said no. He tried to talk to her normally, laugh heartily, and maintain the same warmth they once had between them, which he found tougher than he thought.

Aajmal became obsessed with the uncertainty whether Jayita loved him, or not. He tried to interpret Jayita's words when she spoke to him, and his bias started to lead him into a world of hope. He grew immuned to sleep. He realized that he earned an extra eight hours a day which he needed to spend. He took printouts of some images that Jayita once sent to him. At night, he sat wide awake staring at the photographs, talking to them as if Jayita was sitting in front of him. Slowly this obsession extended, and he started keeping the photographs in his pocket all the time. He tried to call her up every other day, and started to become restless if, for some reason, his calls were not answered.

Apart from this intense obsession, he was completely normal. He talked to everybody normally, played with his nephewes, went to movies and spent time with his friends. He himself could realize that the growing obsession for Jayita was not good for him, but he could not help being vulnerable. At those rare occasions when his good sense dominated over his paranoia, he told himself that he would better stop thinking about Jayita for his own good, but he could not. He tried to destroy the pictures a number of times, but failed. The fear of losing her was intolerable.

Time passed, and it was almost a year from the day when Jayita left. One day, Aajmal was getting ready for his office when Jayita called. He picked up the phone with joy, and greeted her. But to his surprise, Jayita sounded different. She seemed uncertain about something..Aajmal could sense it. He asked and reasked if anything was wrong, and Jayita said that a guy from her class proposed her.

Aajmal's heart missed a beat. He fell into silence for a second, and then asked, ' What did you say?' He already knew the answer.

When he put the phone down, he was feeling sick. Something was trying to come out of him..his grief may be. But surprisingly, he was feeling lighter than ever. He went to the basin, and vomited. Then he scampered to his bed, and fell asleep.

Aajmal slept as if he had never slept before. He slept for the entire day and half of the night. When he woke up, he was feeling weird. He tried to think about what had happened. He felt sorry, for Jayita loved somebody else. Yet, he was happy. He still loved Jayita..but it was different. The spell had been broken, and he was free. Jayita will not love him, but he will..after very many days, he felt certain.

He turned the light on, put the key of the drawer into the keyhole, and turned the key.

Ratul's morning

Vokattaaaaaa...

Ratul woke up with a start...it's eight o' clock already! All the curtains were drawn, shadowing the entire room. 'That is why I slept so long..', thought Ratul. He went over the edge of the bed and tore apart the hangings from in front of the window. A watery breeze riffled through his hair..it must have been raining until now.

Ratul climbed down the bed with effort, sat on his wheelchair and drove it towards the window. He could see Sushant and Sudhir on the rooftop of their house, flying a petkati. Sushant was a very good kite runner - his father taught him. He was the one in control of the petkati; Sudhir was only holding the latai. Ratul looked up to the sky...there was an empty patch around Sushant's kite against the backdrop of the cloudy sky. He noticed that kites were fewer than yesteryear.

Ratul could hear the distant music of some unknown Hindi song. The pujo-pandal was only two houses away from theirs. The tune was sad. Ratul only liked songs that are cheerful. He thought of closing the window and was just about to turn the chair when Sushant jumped up punching the air. He had just cut down a chandial.

Ratul stared at the defeated chandial, floating helplessly towards the coconut tree behind Sushant's house. It was the sight he hated most, but then it was the sight he had to bear for his entire life ahead. Had he not jumped carelessly to catch a chandial two years ago, he could be on their roof today, running kites and hunting down Sushant's. His throat chocked and he grabbed the arms of his wheelchair strongly, trying with all his might not to cry. He must not cry..never. His parents have tried their best to keep him happy and help him overcome the hardest phase of his life. They have taught themselves to live with the fact that their son will never walk again. But on this very day, every year since then, they seem to lose their guard.

There was a knock on the door and Ratul's mother entered, carrying a pile of freshly ironed clothes. She put them down on the empty chair beside the bed, sat on the bedspread and ruffled his hair, saying,'Did you brush?'

Ratul concealed a trickle of tear, smiled at his mother and said, 'I was just going to..'. He turned his wheelchair, when a sudden splash of water entered the room through the window.

It was raining again.