Some people never change

Twenty seven murders, thirty eight more attempts, smuggles worth millions, innumerable thefts and countless wily tricks (at the age of nineteen) had made her the most satisfied girl in the world until she woke up one day and owe it all to an obscure dream, she felt something very heavy on her chest, something rotting in her mind and an invisible force that pricked every part of her body. It was what we call… remorse. This compunction had taken over her and made her cry incessantly for day, thanks to one dream she never told anyone (except me) about so that I could warn the world to stay out of the clutches of evil.

She wanted to become a normal girl, like all the other normal girls, and live her life in the same traditional way, the much clichéd life of integrity and honesty, a life she had once thoroughly despised being an iconoclast herself. She remembered she had parents and the prodigal daughter, at once, packed her bags and knocked the door of the house she was ensconced in as a child. Her mother opened the door and as we all know mothers are all-forgiving, that is what she expected, but her mother flinched at the sight of her and something seemed to throttle her as she closed the door at her face and ran into the shelter of her house.

This completely broke her heart (or whatever was left of it) and tears rushed to make way towards the ground passing over her swollen face (out of shock and despair). She thought of going to her best friend for help and hoped that she accept her back. She reached X's house and saw her in the garden but as soon as X caught a sight of her, she stood where she was, shocked but not scared, to show her that she was shocked but not scared. But as she reached into close proximity she shrieked loudly and ran for her life. She pursued her and caught her by her clothes and told her that she had left that world, was repentant for all that she had done and wanted to be her friend again but X struggled in her grip and managed to say only one thing
'You will never change! Will you?', and hearing this she loosened her grip and X ran for miles before stopping. (She was reported in the newspaper the other day).

Now she had only one alternative to prove that she had changed. She had to surrender herself. She decided to walk to the police station and give herself in. Along the way, the people who passed her by maintained a vast distance from her (probably fearing their lives) and she ignored them all and walked into the police station. There had been a prize money (goodie bags and gift hampers) for the person who caught her dead or alive but no person had ever dared to come close to her, forget touching her. She walked into the police station and as the inspector of the station descried her face out of the window, he became extremely delighted to see the lion enter the cage itself. But as she entered his room, he covered his face and fell towards he ground and a thing similar happened to all the other constables in the room. She told them that she'd come to surrender but astonishingly they all said
'No! You can never change! Go Go! Leave all of us alone! Please go from here!'

Now this was more than she could take and she had only two options (actually three, I'll tell you the 3rd one later). Either she could go back to the sordid life of crime or she could have no life at all and she chose the second. She ran towards the pond (with passerby's having similar reactions as earlier) and without second thought jumped in. Since she did know how to swim, she drowned without any problems except that the next day myriads of dead bodies (one her and many fish, frogs, snakes etcetera) floating in the pond. The pond was covered with mud and abandoned for ever; imagine the plight of the people who did that task. There was no cremation or burial because there was no one capable of enduring the stench and that odor.

C (that's her name), you had another option my deer. You could've had a bath and changed. But alas, 'Some people never change!'
Moral: Bathe and change daily or C's fate shall afflict you too.

Hi, Burn Nation

In the new era of computer technology, where we have left 286s and floppy drives disused, there lives XP and the like. Luxuries, for atleast now. What I love most about XP(and contemporary OSs so as to not sound partisan) is that you can save your entire virtual situation and retrieve it at startup, better called Hibernation. It simply saves all the RAM(Don't you ask what this means or you don't have a right to touch a computer. Touch it only with your left) to a file and recovers it later. How clever.

If you're staring at me right now and wondering why has Chapaat become Techno-Chapaat-i, your amusement is justified but only for a bit. Technology, it seems, runs quite parallel to our evolving lives and unfortunately, I love exploiting this phenomena and use obscure technological analogies to get my mind across. Unfortunately because it is seldom that people get my point. But for the technologically sumptuous beings who deign to read this, this is condescendingly limpid. I wish (Oh yes! Another of those), I just wish, I had something, I just wish I had something which could save my frame of mind this instant and save it to a file so that I could retrieve it later for re-usability purposes. All this, for I am an ingrate or possess a disposition contemptuously close to one. All this, for I forget all that has been granted to me, just because of my virtue of being me(virtue alright). If only something could recast this gratitude I possess now, when the opportune moments arrives for me to remunerate all that I acquired.

It is most often the case, that what is done for you is conveniently disposed off from the memory and grudges of what could not be done(for reason a many) is clasped hard causing to state of ingratitude to reign. How perfidious is this memory and how perfidious it can make us is certainly beyond doubt. Save for me, o somebody, this golden room(thanks to the golden lamp), this bright screen, this cozy atmosphere, the noises from far, the pastry I feasted upon, the smell of nothing, the feeling of freshness, the books in repose, the bright red phone and what not. (Wake up, the description has finished (Rather has been truncated)). If any keen brain can develop such a case for my thoughts, please let me know, for he shall be soaked in currency(assume currency to be liquid please, you've heard about liquidity and all, haven't you) and receive his weight in (solid) gold (so says the self-deprecating King !Xobile (and learn to pronounce my name!)).