Yesterday I saw the white knight of Gotham city, Harvey Dent, go mad, go criminal and go absolutely delusional in revenge for the death of the one he loved. She was all he had, she was all he wanted. And she died, as he heard the explosion. He had been talking to the woman he loved in the last 30 seconds of her life, and she accepted his proposal three seconds before Batman arrived to save the wrong person. Batman saved Harvey. And everyone died a little inside as Harvey’s girl, Rachel, burnt to death.
Of course Harvey got mad. Of course he wanted revenge. Of course he wanted to blame, and hurt the people who put Rachel in danger, and eventually killed her.
But they make it a little dramatic in the films. Amazingly brilliant as The Dark Knight was, it left me with a question. Would I kill? Would I kill for revenge, for my love? Do real people really do that.
Funnily enough my best friend, Peter Zoe asked a very similar question recently. He asks here what he would do for the one he loved, and he too drew the question from the movies.
Well, due to technical difficulties I cannot tell you his answer 🙂 , but I can tell you mine.
I would kill.
Are you paying attention? Let me clarify. My boyfriend gets murdered, I would probably be the damn craziest person on Earth. I don’t stand violence anyway, but there are some things that just tip you off. So yes, should my boyfriend, or just about anyone who I love be taken away from me, it IS possible that I may lose all sense of righteousness and such things that only sane people believe in, and become one of the insane who are bound by no such rules.
Poor Batman, he couldn’t kill the Joker either, because he had the one rule I say I would break. Now admit it people, would as many people have died, would Rachel have died (and hence would Harvey have lost it) if the Bat had just put a bullet through The Joker way early in the film? No offense to the Joker, I am BIG fan, but to put the whole situation in a practical world, a real world; I don’t want to see the hero abstain from killing a psychopath.
Now, since I left the matter midway, and to the aid of all the schoolmates who are just about to freak out that I admit i may kill, here’s a justification:
I am not mad. I won’t just hack off someone’s head or do a Colorado spree remake. I am just saying that I do not believe the world’s laws in black and white. Why is it that when a common man shoots his wife, he is in jail within the day, and when a superstar shoots his wife it takes days even moths for him to be in the jail, and in some luxury jail? Shouldn’t law be clear on what it sees. Man. Gun. Fire. Wife. Dead. It’s that simple. Where did the superstar’s Oscars and money power come in the equation of law?
So, basically I do not go sugary on what’s “right” and what’s not. There is too much subjectivity. In essence, I do not support killing. I do not support any form of killing; by criminals, in war, by police, none. My first choice would be to find the dysfunctional lout who touched my boyfriend, and make him pay Bad, but if the system fails in justice (yet again) I know how to pull a trigger (Courtesy: American Tv). I guess, Killing happens beyond the realms of set society, beyond what we want from ourselves.
I’m afraid I’m going to have to abstain from commenting on murder through war and military action. Just grossly inadequate information in that respect.
Oh boy, did I just set a lot of people from talking to me? I hope not. This is just very deep very dark thinking 🙂
Uhh, now I can almost feel Peter raise his eyebrows… (C’mon, don’t judge Pete!)
Anyway, all you guys, hope you and your besties and family and love are all safe always!
NOTE- This one’s a bit intense and maybe requires some thinking. And maybe philosophical some would say. So ignore it if you’re dim.
Feeling desolate and alone and absolutely helpless is easy. Specially when you care about things, when you believe in the right and would probably stand up against the wrong.
That also means you have all the more chance of being judged, being trodden upon, being killed, slayed and absolutely slaughtered to bits.
Does that take away your reason to live? To want to be yourself?
Does that mean that you should give up the thoughts that are bringing all this trouble? That would mean, be careful, that if you saw a girl in danger of rape, you would walk on, because now you have given up hope on Right.
Sometimes I think about this stuff, sometimes it makes me sad. But here are some defences I put up to say that good people must never feel the need to die. Today I decided to post it, because hell, if there’s anyone else, even one person, who has though about this, I hope they were half as optimistic, half as willing to put their trust in Hope.
Why a Thinker should never want to die
Thinkers are people who actually put their brains to work when they are told something. They don’t believe whatever they are told. They may at least once have wondered about God. They may believe in things that are not proved, but must have their reasons to, not simply because ‘that’s how everyone does it’.
If they managed that, that’s reason enough for them to live.
No? Not convinced?
Round up a group of people. Ask them one question; “If you had to chose between the world’s best chocolate custom made for you and a rich girl, what would you go for?”
That’s no judgement question. There’s no right and wrong answer.
It’s just any question.
But everyone reveals the kind of person they are with the way they answer.
And THAT is the judgement criteria.
Should they say, “the girl of course” laugh away at their joke but remember how they see a girl before they see a person. Or money. What kind of girl, we didn’t say. But did they ask? They chose her because she was a girl, or for the money. And that’s you cue right there.
Should they say “the chocolate!!!” laugh away again. But they didn’t ask abut the girl either. They didn’t really understand the situation, so how could they chose.
Now the real answer for this question was “Get the girl and get her to get the choc.” That’s the smart answer, but that’s also the mean answer.
But anybody who thinks, anybody who gives a shit about the world, or about things being right, will give you an answer that’s worth it.
Their answer may not be perfect. Might not make you laugh. Might not make them seem cool. But they’ll mean it.
And sure as hell, when people start meaning what they do, maybe there wouldn’t a bully in high school, maybe there wouldn’t be a rapist on a dark corner, maybe there wouldn’t be a sadist waiting to live on sorrow….
Maybe Thinkers will one day, make the world mean something.
And that is why they must live.
Please feel free to hate me. Please feel free to criticize me, label me (Idealist, wouldn’t it be?), make me seem like I’m different because that’s how I think. But sure as anything, you can not kill me.
I still have hope.
You haven’t broken me yet, and you never will. Unless I chose to.
That’s all your powers extend to. My CHOICE.
So, good day.
“Lake Lo is the oldest lake in Kashmir. The local legend says that the gods and goddesses used it as a channel to descend to Earth. They would slip down on the clouds or the rain and into Lo till they were prepared enough to face man’s world and breathe his impure air. So the Lake was like the mid-place between heaven and Earth. Of course, given the hype this created, many mortals tried to jump in and get a pathway to heaven, only to gasp for breath soon after they took the plunge. But thanks to the hold mythology had on people those days, they thought it was all a test to see if they were in fact worthy, and hence many lost their lives. Soon, destruction and massive warfare covered Kashmir, and the people said the gods were angry that their Lake was defiled by human corpses…”
Mister Jain spoke passionately about Lake Lo through the night. Nineteen stunned childish faces listened, rapt, immune to the loud creaking of the train or the wrath of the rain. One lone head pushed hard into the pillow it had been issued, trying desperately to block out the lecture, the tales he knew only too well.
Some holy Lake, he thought. The death bowl of hundreds, the curtain over senses, the age-long reminder that man only wants to be oppressed, and he prefers it be by the hand of God.
The Lake had been the forefigure in making Gautam a hardcore atheist. If God was the reason half the world hates the other, he hated God. Better still, he didn’t believe in one.
Gautam’s family came originally from the valleys of Kashmir. Gautam had been to his homeland just once, and the experience hadn’t been any good. He had lost a brother to the ‘patriotic’ army and a sister in an attack. But that was long before he was born, and he considered both of them as alien people, never having met them, never having understood them. Why stay and hope for peace at a place where people said they were at war with the terrorists when they couldn’t live in peace among themselves?
The trip too was something he forced into. See your homeland, his mother had said. I have seen enough, he had said. See it as a tourist, maybe you’ll like it better then. Why should I like it? Because it’s your home-. It’s not! Stop it! I will never…
Gautam knew what happened next in the tale. Only, Mister Jain chose to leave it out, and Gautam could hear nineteen inquisitive voices cry out for more. All right. You want more, huh?
“No… get some sleep all of you. End of tale.”
“C’mon Sir! What happened afterwards?!”
“I’ve told you all you need to know for this trip. And I’m not sure if I should have said that much in the first place. So, this is it, kids. No more to tell.” Mister Jain tried to scurry out of the situation. But Gautam had had enough.
“Fine! You want to know what happened next? Listen.”
Everyone turned to Gautam.
“The people, the devoted god fearing good citizens, went to the families of the people who had died in the Lake and burnt their houses. They then caught the people who ran out and dragged them by their hair or their legs to the Lake, drove a sword into their middle, through and through and then threw the bodies, flung them, into the same Lake. Of course, it was no problem that it made their dear sacred Lake dirtier, the revenge of the Gods’ was complete. Everything was right, once again. Everything was bloody right!” Gautam spat with fury he had felt every time he had heard his mother tell him the tale.
In a whisper Gautam continued, like a magician who knew he was now playing his trump card that wasn’t only breath-taking but so horrifying and so majestic that one could even lose all sense of the world.
“The news spread. People got interested. Tourism hit a new high, and religious leaders shot up like weed in every village and very street of the entire country. Some daring scientists thought if this Lake could make a new break in science, if it really was something special, they would hit it just right. So they went over, as pilgrims, buttered the locals into letting them visit, and took a camera hidden in a crewman’s shirt. But what they saw was better off without not taped. Word spread out that something had been recorded that was very top-secret. Two of the scientists on the trip took ill suspiciously, suddenly and there was a huge rave about the recording. The locals did everything in their power to deny everything, and for months no one could possibly visit that part of Kashmir, the locals had set up a ferocious civil army. But soon, someone sold the tape out for money and everyone knew. ”
Gautam looked at his classmates. Every one of them scared, paralyzed into silence. But he wasn’t done yet. Jain sir quiet, sitting low at the other end, he obviously knew the tale.
“The tape- was a recording of the Lake. There’s a lot of movement at first, and the camera wobbled. Then the scientists stopped at the edge of the Lake. It seemed they were just standing and looking because the tape stays like that for some time. Then, all of a sudden, some twenty metres up the shoreline, along the bank, some young Kashimiri boys start shouting. They seem to just have come, and they are playing. They start skimming stones. The scientists turn their attention to the boys, and a few local faces are caught on camera being worried. Someone is sent to shoo the boys away. But before he can get there, a tall boy picks up a very heavy rock and flings it, far into the Lake, near the scientists. He was only playing. But the rock he threw in moved so much water that a sharp white pole was seen sticking out of the Lake. More water shifted with the sudden disturbance, the area around the pole cleared… the water over it was swept away… and the clear outline of a human hand, a human skeleton stretched out into the air.”
Gautam drew in breath.
“Not three inches below the water surface was a bed of dead men and women, skeletons. The Lake was a graveyard. A dumping ground of a religious war. A pool, of bones, of human bones stripped of their muscle and skin at places, lumps still attached at some…”
Gautam stooped. There was nothing to go on about. Gautam slipped back into his seat. He slumped into a bundle, and set his head against the window. The rain seemed quieter. The carriage was dead silent. At least everyone now shared the despair. At least he wasn’t going to be told to click pictures of tourist spots, smile as if this was a vacation, hop from one place to another like a dumb bunny.
The lights went out in the carriage. Gautam kept looking out of the window. The train slowed at a checkpoint, and Gautam spotted a sign that read, simply- Welcome to Kashmir.
Please, thought Gautam.
Disclaimer: Completely Fiction. But then, is it?
The pistol was pointed at his forehead. Karan could see down the muzzle…. All was dark….
He closed his eyes. Death would be so sweet…. Sunny….
“That’s good… resign.” The shooter was savouring the moment.
Resign…. Sunny…. her killer….. No….
Karan opened his eyes, a new motivation in them. He must fight. He must go on.
But it was too late. CRACK! The sound pierced Karan’s ears, he squeezed his eyes by reflex. Blood wet his cheek, warm on his skin. A pain shot out in his temple, like metal crushing his skull, and Karan lost consciousness.
His head hurt like hell. So much pressure round the skull… like a hundred cello-tape rounds were squeezing it in place. This must be what Hell feels like.
Lub dub…. Lub dub….
His heartbeat was getting normal. Great, let’s go see Hell!
The pain kept throbbing. His head was really beginning to kill him…. just an expression…
“Karan?” A voice broke through his tour plan of Hell.
Jeremy?! What was he doing in Hell? Of course! That’s where he would go too. God.. that shooter… got to Jem too, huh.
Matters of a different world, Karan ignored them. “Hey Jem. Can you see?”
“You can too, Karan. Just open your eyes real slow. The lights are already low, it shouldn’t be a problem.” Nice setting in Hell!
Karan tried to open his eyes. It took some time to gain control of his eyelids. When he finally pushed them back, his temples hurt again.
“Wait, I’ll increase the light. I’ll do it slow, give you time to adjust.”
Slowly, lights came switching on. Switching on?! Soon it was as bright as day. Nice! There own light-control!
“Hey Jem, did he get you too?”
He didn’t get a response. He heard Jeremy scuffle over. Then his face blocked the nearest light.
“You look good. Why does my head ache, Jem?”
Karan suddenly realised. That light…. a hospital ceiling… A Hospital Smell.
He turned his head. He jerked his head. “Jeremy?”
“It’s OK, Karan. You’re here.”
And Jeremy lunged forward, overcome with emotions so. He hugged Karan like his life depended on it.
From beneath Jeremy, Karan managed, “Jerrmii, jusst becoss I’m stuc to the bedd dusnt mean you can take advantage uff mi.”
Jeremy laughed away. “Man, I almost lost you.” He was, thankfully, not gonna cry, Karan noted.
Jem got up. “Hey, you rest… I got to go check with the desk… anyway, I still got to deal with Officer Yadav.”
“Ya… that.” Karan groaned. His head hurt!
“Hey! What hit me?”
“His gun. I didn’t exactly see it would drop right on you… when I shot him. Dude, straight in the heart. Another thing to explain to Officer Yadav.” Jeremy rolled his eyes and walked away.
Karan closed his eyes. My man, Jem.
“Karan. It’s Room 207.” Jeremy said, from the door.
My man, my man.
“Jay?” Officer Yadav said.
“Sir?… Good morning.” said ‘Jay’.
Jay?! Oh good, very very good! thought the shooter. And I was worried I was letting him easy. Deal with it Jeremy, let’s see how you do it.
The microphone was buzzing. The shooter listened attentively. He slipped the cell phone back in his pocket, he had no intention of getting Jeremy out of this rut.
“Didn’t you have to catch a flight back to Bangkok, Jay?” Officer Yadav didn’t waste any time casting his suspicions.
“Yes sir, I did. But I couldn’t leave Mrs. Virmani in this state, sir… so I called up my brother and told him to handle trade in Bangkok for a few days. It’s family business sir, I could delay it a little.” Jeremy didn’t like his excuse. He had no back-up, no proof to support anything he had said. How he would set up a ‘family’ in Bangkok, should the Officer want to know, was a horrendous vision.
“Hmmm… Very responsible, good. But you haven’t visited her Jay, my men would have told me otherwise…”
“No sir, I haven’t.” This time, Jeremy had a perfect answer, but he still wasn’t the least happy. He was going to give too much information to the shooter… What the hell?! As if dealing with Officer Yadav wasn’t enough!
“I spent a day trying to find Ankur, sir… he’s her son. She said she hadn’t heard from him… it felt strange.” Jeremy saw the officer stiffen.
“You said you were neighbours, Jay?” Officer Yadav was phishing for something.
“Yes sir, my family and hers were neighbours… ten years back. Ankur and I practically grew up together.” Jeremy replied. This was one lie he had had time to make earlier.
“Hmm… usually I don’t do this, you must understand. But the old woman doesn’t have any other close relative, family member, anyone. I am afraid I have news for you, bad news. Let’s go somewhere and talk.”
If it hadn’t been for the current circumstances, Jeremy would have jumped right in the opportunity. He could lie his way through a conversation easily, and would definitely want to if he could gather information. But the dilemma he was in , rather catastrophe, did not permit him to even sit by his own will.
Like a loyal servant, the cell phone rang at the perfect cue. It was the shooter. Of course.
“I must take this call, Officer.” Having got approval, he turned his back to the Officer and walked a little ahead. Nothing suspicious, nothing obvious.
“What do you want me to do?”
“I was wondering when they would pick up a case on that one. Go with him, but not beyond a two kilometres radius of this place. The rules still apply, Karan dies if you try anything. I want you back here in an hour. And you still have to sell him the weed.” The conversation was over.
Jeremy cursed the shooter heavily. Wait till HE is under the gun!
“Yes, Officer. Let’s go.”
“Anything serious?” Officer Yadav wasn’t used to other people walking away to take their calls, civilians usually didn’t have to want privacy.
Jeremy shook his head, aware that the shooter could still see him.
“Ok. Let’s go…”
And Officer Yadav started walking. Jeremy followed. But Officer Yadav turned right.. into Mrs. Virmani’s colony. There were no coffee-shops there… no place to sit and talk… just houses. Jeremy stalled.
“C’mon. We are going to her house. She knows you… it shouldn’t be a problem. Anyway, I need to talk to her too.”
She knows me, THAT IS the problem!
“You want to go to Mrs. Virmani’s house?” Jeremy said, more to the mic than to Officer Yadav.
“Yes. Is there a problem?”
Jeremy waited for the phone to ring, but it lay silent in his palm. Unwillingly, Jeremy took a step forward. Call god-damnit!
He went all the way to the door he had grown to hate, the bell was pressed, and they were waiting… but the phone did not ring.
“Jeremy and an Officer just entered Mrs. Virmani’s house.” Karan reported, his own thoughts rushing furiously. None of them were any bit happy, all completely terrified. Being able to open his eyes was not seeming any better an option.
The shooter was rushing with some things behind him. He was making a scuffle, but Karan couldn’t see just what.
He had finally had to use his trump card, the best part of his plan. But why, Karan was thinking? What was the unpredicted problem? And why was Jeremy in Mrs. Virmani’s house, that too with a police Officer?
Karan was as blind as before.