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- Sudden senseless ensemble. Brought on by a great day at an international trade fair.
Merry didn’t know where to start. So much had happened and so fast that Merry could easily let it all pass for a trick of the mind. Only the bloodstained carpet and the cold corpse of a young woman Merry had caught in his arms held him, frozen to the spot, with flashing lights and police sirens all around him.
Now that the corpse was taken from his arms into a stretcher, brutally zipped under yellow plastic and the bloodstained carpet photographed from every inch and dimension known to man, Merry found himself a prime witness. He had never been much of a prime, and Merry was having a tough time.
The policeman assigned to take Merry’s testimony was getting irritable. He was twitching and sighing and looking out of the dingy stall a yard away, at the real action at the crime scene. While Merry noticed all of these things, the things he was really supposed to have noticed moved further back in his memory… much to his comfort, but only short-term.
Merry played it over again… it was a crowded place… A Saturday at the Trade Fair usually was. There were buyers, wares and noisy sellers all around… And there was the woman. She had been standing, watching something at a stall nearby… doing nothing, just watching… and all of a sudden, someone had come from behind Merry, even banged into his shoulder, walked on and pulled the girl by the arm with force…. and the next thing Merry knew, there was a bang and the girl was falling… into his arms….
The next thing Merry knew and inhaled sharply on remembering…
925 people were being held in suspicion at the moment, with a shoddy description Merry had provided. Blue sweater, dark hair and a husky voice. It being winter, almost all males in that pavilion were taken into custody right away.
No wonder the police was in a frenzy. They weren’t prepared to hold 925 people for so long.
“Sir, let’s start at the time when the man banged into you? So.. what were you doing then?”
The dismay in the policeman’s voice was clear to catch. Of all the things that could be done out there, the poor man in charge of an unresponsive witness. And the Only witness, so there wasn’t much of a choice for him.
Merry was thinking. What was I doing? I was watching her… I was standing next to an air vent, so that the cold Air Conditioned pump blew air under his ear. She was calm, but he was itchy. He had wanted to talk to her. She was a pretty girl, she seemed a sweet girl.
But then the cold air was right in his face as he was pushed in front of the vent, and a man stumbled away, causing the disturbance. His hair was dark… and his sweater blue… and… nothing…
Merry cursed internally. Nothing new. It always broke off at exactly that moment. Merry couldn’t even give them a height, because the other man too had crouched after the collision. And after that, he had been swallowed by the crowd, only showing his pause in front of the girl and yanking her from her stillness.
“Sir? Okay… what about after the bang?”
After? After the bang, Merry had covered three paces without knowing it, and his hands were full with the weight of a body. She had fallen with a blow, crashed against his chest, and he had been frantically asking her if she was okay, when he realised she wasn’t. She was dead.
“So, after the shot… did you see the blue sweatered man?”
The man? No…
She had been there, lifeless, falling… he had a corpse in his hand, a corpse that was a pretty girl a minute ago, a person… a calm, breathing human. Now… nothing…
But the man? He didn’t feel the gravity of that fact, Merry knew. Else he wouldn’t have vanished in the crowd. He couldn’t have. He was cold.
“Okay. Let’s take a break. I’m gonna go out and get some coffee. You want some coffee?”
Merry nodded no.
The policeman rushed out, desperate for leave from a pathetic job.
Merry slipped lower in his seat.
He played the scene again, trying to find something, anything… anything that would put the police on a goose chase after the cruel man…
“Anything Dell?” Merry heard someone say outside the stall.
“No sir. It’s a clean slate. Can’t it be that he just didn’t see anything?” Merry recognised the voice of the policeman he had been with all this time.
“It can be. But I’m not gonna give in to that just yet. He’s our only witness. We need something, or we’re basically letting this murderer walk free.”
“Damn… I wish the girl was alive. Flesh wound or something you know… then, we could just ask her.”
Merry agreed. He wished he could.
He wished to just ask her.
Of the 925 in holding, who killed her, Merry wished he could ask her.
The smell of death hung in the air. A yellowish mist descending, reflecting the light from the head-lamps of the parked car, choked the surrounding air giving it a deathly taste. It was just after the first hours of the morning and across the horizon Aurora’s chariot raced, heralding the coming of the sun.
Among the stone tablets that protrude from the ground lay a lifeless body, or what was remaining of it. Shovel after shovel, earth is heaped onto it; concealing the evidence. It is only when dawn breaks that the body has been replaced by a mound of earth and the perpetrator safely away, hidden among the hordes of the city populous. And by the time the warm of the sunshine broke through the stale air, he was one among them, walking shoulder to shoulder.
Half an hour and the undertaker had reported the scene to a place it didn’t belong. The crime department. This was no crime. This was art. The hand that took the life out of the body vaguely visible under the earth was of no ordinary criminal. It took a mastermind to plan and execute, to think and design this.
A grave on a graveyard. A grave taller then its marker. A grave above all others- a symbol of the highest kill.
The crime department can only shiver. And suddenly the emphasis changes- a murder had been committed and a murderer was walking free. And all everyone wanted was to desecrate his craft and put behind bars the artist.
Cameras flashed at the crime scene, where the model of a case stood inanimate and the horrors seeped free. Queasy hearts couldn’t take the intensity of that creation and they called him a lunatic. The sunshine was still lingering by, trying to dry the stale feel but fear held a firm grip.
Much to a complete distortion of majesticity, yellow plastic tape was pulled, sealing off the home of the dead and unsettling them in their earthly beds as incompetent crime detectives frowned.
Somewhere among them the winner smiled as his work of art became their nightmares. Giddy with his guilty pleasure of the night, the artist becomes restless under the noon sun. He can never live it down, this last kill, he knew. It had been his calling card to honour his victims with disgrace, but the earth he piled on his face this time, the grave he erected, was by far his best. He wondered if they would dig him out in peace or with sad in their hearts.
Neither. They had a crime to investigate and as much as they wanted to make it all vanish, they had to risk increasing it all when in the evening the heavy noisy machines pulled the dirt back.
All the while the single black stone on which with a rough hand was etched ‘Lies Dead’ stood witness to the procession, mocking them. An invitation, almost a triumphant scribble calling. This was his hand, an act of defiance to proclaim his victory and superiority over his victims.
Yellow tape fluttered still, but cameras relaxed, dirt spreading to surrounding graves, the black stone submerged below, the last lights of day plunged in the sky. And as the sunlight pulled out of the disturbed graves, it fled up to the zenith and further away, gasping for condolence. Dark took its place and greeted its yellow horrors and sat, marvelling at the day old work of art.
Things had changed that day. A day had dawned and drowned; and a body lay naked of its grave. A killer had come and gone; leaving his mark- the hallmark of excellence. And the citizens’ utopia had been destroyed, reality of a cold world creeping in. Now they knew he was there, walking among them. He was the man without a face, the monster behind the curtain. The first round went to death. Justice had yet to try its hand.
By Ruchika and Peter 🙂
As I sit here wondering how stupid I could be to not clarify that doubt on the Shakespeare post, about his sexuality affecting his credibility, I find today’s story. You see, this is one of the best controversies I ever came across in my life, and I remember spending considerable time when I was really very young, deciding whether I should believe it or not.(In fact, it may be one of my earliest decisions. Like, before choosing my favourite colour.)
Have you heard those tales of people dying by unjust ways and their ghosts coming back for sweet, and very bloody, revenge? And if you commit the mistake of not sharing their story when you read it, and hence defile their memory, you too will die that night, always in the darkest dark? Yep, that’s what I am talking about.These stories usually are pretty scary. And when I saw the following text in a comment on Facebook, the memories came back.
(The comment has not been modified, barring grammatical errors of spelling. Really don’t want more of that on my blog, and I make many.)
ONCE YOU’VE READ THE FIRST WORD OF THIS YOU CANT GET OUT. READ ON OR DIE TONIGHT AT 10:35 P.M.
9 years ago a person named Jerry got dared to sleep in a house that was believed haunted.The next day his friends waited for him outside the house. They had to go inside and search for him. They went through every room exept the attic. He wasn’t supposed to sleep there. He was supposed to sleep in the living room. They went into the attic. They saw Jerry’s corpse and they just left because they were scared. But that night they all died because of their friend. He killed them all for making him sleep in that house
If you don’t send this to 11 comments you will die tonight by Jerry. Example 1:A man named Stewart Read this and didn’t believe it. He shut off his computer and went through his day. That night while he was in bed he heard something outside of his door. He got up to look. And now he’s dead. Example 2: A Girl named Haley Read this in the morning and she got scared but she didn’t send it. She wanted to know if it was true. She went to school (She was only 13 years old) and that night she died.
If you don’t post this on 11 comments tonight Jerry will ‘visit’ your house.
Okay, if some of you need to take a break and go post this, I understand.
Okay. So when I was arguing my stand on these matters, I finally decided that I will NOT be ruled by such notices that do nothing but invoke fear, and since then have never once shared any story. And here I am, alive and sound. Though who knows, I may be pushing my luck? But I refuse to let myself be carried away by rumours. If you got to kill me because I’m sensible, dear ghost, you really are full of it.
But fear, and religion I dare to say, have long been the “opium of the masses”. (Karl Marx :D) So I can’t judge the people who do share such comments.
However, the deathly stronghold such comments have! Marvellous! I can not boast of complete fearlessness myself, even with my conviction against such rumours. They ARE pretty scary.
And even my very able very smart cousin was once hell-bent on the existence of Bloody Mary. And this cousin we are talking about is actually so intelligent, she convinced me not to pull out a red colour-pencil in the dark ever or write in red in the bathroom. God, I dreamt CHILLING dreams that night. And with a vivid imagination, that MEANS something! Great job, Pakhi, you got your sister!
So check this space tomorrow. Either you will find a short update, with me gasping of how I made it, Thank Lord if he/she exists, or, if you really do not find any post, consider I pushed my luck too far and am very much taken, finally.
Auxi frowned as she walked back to her house, from Waratia. The day had proven useless, and Auxi knew she couldn’t waste so much precious time. All she had managed was introducing her agenda to Lord Janei, and revealing everything to Vizas, if very abruptly. The grief of Bei’s death was weighing down on her. And the fact that it might just be murder, was something she couldn’t come to terms with. Could the Tower really kill someone, for a secret? A life, taken? How could they be the people’s government then? How was the Tower not a monarch then? How were they in the 31st century then, if their human ideas of dominance had just not died?
Auxi wondered what she could do… where she could go… who…
She wanted to go through Bei’s house but had seen the heavy surveillance around it. And the Tower had not even bothered to keep it down. Rounds of red rings floated halfway up the house, as warning for trespassers that that particular house was reserved for Tower work, for some time. And since Bei lived alone, with no one to call family, it was all very convenient too.
Auxi passed the house again, and the lifeless still building chilled her heart more so.This very building only recently housed a living heart, a noble heart made Auxi shiver despite the cloak wrapped around her tight. The red lines shone bold. Warning was clear.
Auxi knew entering would prove fatal.
Auxi reached her own house. The warm air that hit her as she entered made her breathe in relief. Finally. Auxi shed almost all her layers, and was surprised to find she could still go around in a single T-shirt and pants. That was strange. With three degrees outside and the Tower having to set up a heat machine, she was surprised she could afford her own heating.
Auxi went over to the study. She lifted the lid of her laptop, and pressed her fingers across the blue strip. The laptop sprung to life.
“You have, four messages pending.”
Auxi start scribbling an imaginary pencil against the white metal plate following the blue strip, and the strokes appeared on the screen.
“Lord Janei visited. Vizas told. Bei’s house still sealed.”
Then she swiped her thin fingers across the screen in moves practices through repetition and the Messages panel opened.
1. Officer Uid, Waratia Prison Facility; “You have made a first visit today to a prisoner. This has been recorded in the prison logbooks. According to the Prison Regulations you have already been briefed, every first visit is video-recorded, for security reasons. You have been notified.”
Auxi wondered if the last sentence was indeed ominous- You were told. You shoudn’t have.
2. Tower Message Center; “You have missed one day at the Message Room. Since your leave form had been turned down and you had been notified, this shall be recorded in your work sheet. Another miss without permission could lead to expulsion from the job.”
Auxi swore. She recollected how her leave application had come back with a ‘Not Suitable Grounds’ Rejection when she had reported the death of Bei.
3. Bei, Tower Control Room;
Auxi jumped when she saw who the message was from.
“This is an electronically timed message. You have received this, because the sender created an event that has happened, and the message has been automatically sent.
Dear Auxi, if you get this message, I want you to know someone has been tampering with my personal laptop. It isn’t as safe as the Tower networks so I have stored this message here, right under their nose. I told you I felt a danger to my life at work. When those officers took me away, they led me to the Jury Centre. They said they knew I had been poking about. They knew I was digging up files from various sources for the S-Crisis. I had been to talk to all the families of the poeple on the Team, only one actual member was alive. They said they were stamping my record with Breach to Solidarity, something like betraying Tower ethics. I know it was just bullshit, they just wanted reason to poke around.
I am recording this message because if something really happens, I want you to start from what I already know, because I am sure you WILL start.
Auxi, I’m holding on to you. And Vizas, though I know he is angry.
Auxi let a tear sip away. Bei was murdered. She would get to the bottom of it, she was certain now more than ever. With a heavy heart, she turned to the last message.
4. Auxi was shocked it was another message from Bei. It was from his personal laptop.
“Auxi, I know they are coming for me. I am sending you all my files, everything I could jot down, all the pictures I could collect. Get everything down to download, out of your laptop, they will breach it sooner or later. Clean it thoroughly Auxi. Tell Vizas I am sorry I could never come. But it was just this-”
And then it broke off. Auxi opened the files he attached right at the top. She couldn’t go through them just then, because a sharp knock on the door made her swipe the blue strip and lock the laptop.
“Tower Control Officers, ma’am. Please open the door.”
Their IDs scanned through the door, and Auxi went through them carefully before opening the door.
“What-” but the rest of the sentence muffled as she looked at a bright white light and slipped to the ground.
Forty five minutes later, when she woke, Auxi was still in her T-shirt and pants but cold, as she was bound to a tall vertical hold, she couldn’t yet understand what and the room was freezing. The rumble of an Air Cooler explained that the temperature was set low, on purpose.
Auxi gasped for fuller breaths and shivered.