Yashas Mahajan's Blog, page 44

Word of the Week #24:

Sabbatical

Okay, let us have a small post, today.

Not that I am being lazy, just… I am just so tired…

And I have been tired for a while, now. Most people seem to believe I could use a break.

It is not every day that your Mom tells you that you have been working too much, is it? Maybe they just haven’t had the chance to see me work hard ever before, or work at all, to be honest.

I guess there just comes a day in a man’s life when the thrill of the job is completely replaced by the fear of a deadline; when all you want to do is drop your weapons, run back home and take a long nap while the world burns.

Well, there is one thing we should not forget: that life is not my life, and that day is not today…

Most people seem to believe I could use a break. Most people are wrong. I do not need a break, I need a breakthrough.

So let us pull up our socks and get back to work, shall we? We can rest when our world is complete.

Character Origins #5: Dorian

Year 1278AD

Torden

The scent of wet mud greeted Dorian, as his horse trotted towards the city. The mission had been long and arduous, across the dry, bleak plains to the south of Ostra. It was good to finally be home.

Home, he wondered. Do I even have one?

The sound of horse’s hooves on the soft ground, in conjugation with his own feelings of fatigue and relief, had lulled him into a drowse.

He heard a woman whimper, as she tightly clutched the hem of her gown, tears streaming down her face. The blood on her hands was definitely her own. He had seen this before. He knew.

“What are you looking at?” he heard the gruff voice of a burly man, followed by a smack to the head that sent him sprawling across the small room.

He could see the man advancing towards her.

He could see the terror in her eyes.

He could hear a dull thud, as her head bounced off the wall and landed on the cold floor.

He could see the blood spilling out, drenching her wispy auburn hair.

After that, all he saw was red… His hands, his tunic, the knife at his feet, the wall to his side…

They were all red…

The sudden change of sounds, as he entered the paved roads of the city, roused him. He wiped the sweat off his brow and adjusted himself in the saddle. He had almost arrived.

❖        ❖        ❖

“Who is carrying the message?” Commander Kray asked, rising from his seat.

“A young scout,” his aide replied. “A scrawny little kid with red hair and a scar across his cheek.”

“Dorian?” muttered Kray, absent-mindedly scratching his chin. “Well, that is a surprise…”

“You know him, Commander?” he inquired, surprised that the Commander of the army of the entire kingdom would personally know a lowly scout.

“I helped him out,” Kray continued in his usual manner, “during the port-side situation we had, last year.”

“You mean… He is THAT boy?”

“Yes, Damien, he is that boy,” he said, as he made his way out of the room, towards the lobby where Dorian had been asked to wait. Damien, intrigued by this mysterious kid, decided to diligently follow.

“What does Garfield have for me? Kray asked, upon having seen the young scout.

“Greetings, Commander,” Dorian meekly replied, handing over a small scroll, “Captain Garfield has forwarded this.”

“It looks like a cipher,” Kray observed, peering into the piece of parchment. “I do not recognise these runes, though. Why did the Lumiere division not handle it?”

“They tried, Commander, but they failed. Captain Garfield has dispatched a messenger to Oldenburg, to look for any documents that might help.”

“I see. Damien, forward this to the cryptographers. We need a swift response.”

❖        ❖        ❖

Dorian walked out of the barracks feeling pleased. It had been a year since that night… The night he lost his home, his childhood, his innocence… The fact that he was not in prison, or worse, had once felt like a burden; it was now a responsibility.

He had already received orders for the next mission—a month long training programme. He did not complain. Having already completed his mandatory year as a scout, he was now on his way to become a real soldier.

He knew he had not atoned for his sins, just yet. He still did have a long way to go.

He smiled, as the smell of wet mud brought back warm memories of a time long past. The drizzling rain poured over his head, washing his tears away.

Yes, I am home…

Characters:





Trivia:
Dorian:

The name Dorian is derived from that of a Hellenic tribe.
Being one-quarter Pelasgian, Dorian does have partial Hellenic ancestry.

 

Image credits: Rinmaru Games

Book of the Week #23:

The Time Machine,
by H. G. Wells

“We are always getting away from the present moment. Our mental existence, which are immaterial and have no dimensions, are passing along the Time-Dimension with a uniform velocity from the cradle to the grave.”

—The Time Traveller

Okay, let me start off by stating quite frankly that I am not very fond of time travel. I would not like to discuss its scientific plausibility; it is far beyond my realm of expertise.

However, if popular science fiction is any indicator, it would probably cause quite a lot of trouble. Just refer to Flashpoint, and you will see what I mean.

H. G. Wells is, along with Jules Verne, often considered the Father of Science Fiction, responsible for coining the term “time-machine”, and the subsequent popularisation of the entire concept of time-travel.

Considering the fact that it was published in 1895, the scientific and logical accuracy of his work makes it all the more impressive.

The story begins in Victorian England, with the protagonist, only referred to as the Time Traveller, discussing the concepts of time, and how one can travel through it.

Thereafter, he uses his new invention, the eponymous Time Machine, to travel into the distant future, where modern human civilisation has collapsed, and humanity itself has been divided into two separate specifies: the small, weak and fairly lame Eloi, and the big, bestial and almost just as lame Morlocks.

It is difficult to go into much detail of the plot of what is actually just a 120-page long book, the perfect length for a single sitting. This makes sure that the reader’s attention never wavers from the story, making it feel like a short but unforgettable trip into the future.

The narrative, for most part, is driven by the Time Traveller, who serves as the first-person narrator to the entire part of the book involving time-travel. The introduction and the epilogue, however, are narrated by an unnamed narrator, who leaves the book completely open-ended. The book has, therefore, spawned several unauthorised sequels.

And, for a book that small, it is baffling how many themes it explores. For instance, the plight of the Eloi can either be attributed to the Victorian decadence, wherein the privileged classes need neither strength nor intelligence to survive, while that of Morlocks can be seen as the direct consequence of capitalism, where the working classes gradually devolve into brutish beasts.

Apart from sociology part of it, considering evolutionary biology, Wells’ native field of study, the eventual stratification of humans does make sense…

When a book is as influential as this, not to mention as short and as interesting, one really cannot afford to miss it.

You can find the book here, for free.

Do read it. Even if you are not a big fan of the genre, the book will anyway run out of pages before you even realise.

And yes, movie adaptations do exist, but I did not like them, so if you do choose to watch it, you are on your own.

Well, that is all for today…

Thank you…

Word of the Week #23:

Buoyant

Simply put, this is the answer to the question I have encountered at least a hundred times, over the past month or so:

“So, how does it feel, now that you are a published writer?”

Quite frankly, I could not think of a better way to describe my current state of mind, even if I meditated over it for an hour…

And yes, I do do that, on occasion…

One of the reasons why I would describe my month this way is because I know just how easily this bubble can burst, and how suddenly my heart can sink.

All it would take is one prick, if you know what I mean…

It does not affect me, though; not while I am on cloud nine. Nothing can touch me, up here.

So let us just bask in this warmth, while the light lasts…

Character Origins #4: Trisha and Serafina

Year 1278AD

Karakaya

Trisha took a deep breath, as she started walking towards the arena, her high ponytail bobbing with every step. As always, a hundred eyes followed her every move, but this was the first time she really noticed it. This was the first time the attention felt disconcerting. This was the first time it really mattered.

Wiping the sweat off her brow, she steeled herself for what was poised to be the toughest, and the most important, day of her life. Her dream of being chosen as the youngest member of the Seven Heads was just a single step away, and a completely unexpected obstacle stood in her way.

Serafina lay on the rocky floor, basking under the noon sun, when the clamorous crowd caught her attention. Squinting her eyes, she watched as men and women alike fawned over Trisha. With a derisive snort, she sprung back to her feet, and meandered towards her sister.

“You left quite early, tonight,” commented Trisha, once they had exchanged the customary greetings. “I had hoped we would walk here together.”

“I like sitting here, by myself,” Serafina replied icily. “It is quiet.”

“I can understand,” she agreed, shooting a quick glance towards the crowd, that grew larger and louder, every passing moment. “Well, do your best, sister. May The Lord be with you.”

“You cannot possibly mean that…”

“You are being rude,” Trisha said, with a soft smile, before placing her hand on her sister’s head. “If you do defeat me, I will be nothing but proud.”

Serafina did not respond in words. She simply nodded. The tag of underdog was not new to her, having bourn it for fifteen years now. Many had been baffled when she laid claim for the coveted position of a head, but without the weight of expectation on her shoulder, she had risen fast and farther than the other contenders, and now stood as the final hurdle in her sister’s glorious campaign.

Trisha stood beaming, as their father, Beye Yildirim, addressed the crowd, and spoke of his daughters’ achievements, and how proud he was at the very moment. Serafina, however, was barely listening. She could not wait for the pleasantries to conclude, and for the real task to begin.

Finally, the girls were led to a sheer cliff, where they were greeted by the leader of Arzi, their grandmother, Amma Gulizar. Behind her, towards the edge of the cliff, were two men, gagged and bound to wood stakes. Armed guards had sealed every other exit. The crowd had gone silent.

“As you might know,” Gulizar began, her voice stronger than her stature might suggest, “Karim was found murdered, last night. He had been stabbed through the neck. The person who killed him stands here, on this cliff. You are to interrogate one man each, find the culprit, and carry out the punishment. The Seven Heads must be decisive and swift.

The girls nodded, and walked towards their respective suspects. As she recognised the man standing in front of her eyes, Trisha smiled. This man was a known miscreant, and had twice been publicly flogged. Such scum did not deserve to reside in Karakaya, anyway. His execution would certainly be good riddance. However, Trisha paused to consider the other suspect.

Serafina marched forward, her eyes fixed at those of her suspect. She could already see him whimpering, as she drew a dagger from her belt, and raised it in the air. In a swift motion, she cut through the ropes binding him so abruptly that he fell to his knees.

“Take this,” she said, dropping the dagger by his foot, “and fight me. If you win, you live.”

The man trembled at the sight of the shining blade. He looked up, towards Serafina, the sun shining behind her short, golden hair, as she began walking away from him. Using this opportunity, he bolted away from the stake, intent on disappearing into the crowd. The guards, however, alert to this possibility, stopped him almost immediately.

“He is innocent, Amma,” Serafina proclaimed, looking Gulizar straight into the eye. She had not even turned back, to see the result of her little stunt. “He is a coward and a weakling, not worth the bread he eats, but he is not a killer. There is no way he could have killed a warrior like Karim.”

Trisha turned around, and watched, as Amma Gulizar patted Serafina on the shoulder. Her sister’s antics had always caught her unawares, but this time it had worked to her advantage. Every trace of doubt had been wiped off her mind. Decisive and swift, she repeated under her breath, drawing her dagger and calming her nerves. Decisive and swift… She lunged forward, determined to thrust the blade deep into the culprit’s heart.

“STOP!”

In one fluid, distinctly feline motion, she turned the dagger in her hand, letting her fist fall almost harmlessly on the man’s chest. She sprang back, as a warm liquid seeped down his groin and along his leg.

“Let us rejoice, people of Arzi,” Gulizar proclaimed. “Here, before your eyes, stands Serafina, the Fierce, One of the Seven!”

“But—” was all Trisha could elicit from her throat, before her voice was drowned out by the cheering crowd.

“I said the person who killed Karim stands here,” explained Gulizar, her golden eyes glinting. “I did not say man. Karim was a traitor. I confronted him, and I stabbed him. A leader of the people must always be decisive and swift, but never prejudiced or impetuous. You are competent, Trisha, but you still have a lot to learn.”

Trisha nodded and walked away, as the ceremony began. For its entire length, she could feel the blood burning in her eyes. She looked towards her sister, who looked equally ill at ease, and put on a brave smile. Somehow, she found the strength, deep within herself, to stand there till it all ended.

“We do have a plan for you, dear,” Yildirim told her, as they passed the cliff. “As Amma grows old, I would need to stay here more often, and I want you to replace me as the ambassador to Arrkaya.”

“Do you think I am ready, Father?” she asked, her eyes still moist.

“Oh, absolutely!”

Serafina watched as her father led Trisha back to the citadel. For an entire minute, she could not avert her gaze. Then, raising her head and tugging her hair back, she let out a quick snort. The sun still shone bright in the sky. Her eyes watered, as she stared into its fiery light…

Characters:





Trivia:
Trisha:

She is one of the few characters whose name and appearance is based on a real person.
Her personality, however, is completely original.

Serafina:

Her name is based on an order of angels, and loosely translates to Fiery Ones.
Her personality, appearance and athletic abilities are all an amalgamation of several real persons.

Image credits: Rinmaru Games

Book of the Week #22:

Brothers in Law,
by Henry Cecil

“And anyone can avoid going to prison under a judgement summons by going bankrupt?”

“Quite correct,” said Henry.

“Then why doesn’t everyone do that?”

“Several reasons. Some people can’t raise the ten pounds to go bankrupt.”

“So a man with ten pounds can avoid going to prison and a man without can’t?”

Makes much sense? Not really, right? Well, that is how the law works. Or used to work… And that is a reason why this writer is still highly popular among lawyers.

You see, there are many great authors who only manage to leave a fleeting impression on the fickle minds that make up our society, and are thereby eventually relegated to a niche audience.

Unfortunately, such is the case of Henry Cecil. While his books may have once commanded praise from even the likes of P.G. Wodehouse, his popularity, or the lack thereof, does not do justice to the quality of his works.

For one, if you can keep an Indian teenager, whose understanding of the legal profession in general, and the legal system prevalent in 1940s Britain in particular, is meagre at best, interested enough that he finishes the book in a single sitting, and thoroughly enjoys himself at that, then you are quite certainly a genius.

Okay, when I say meagre, I am being modest. If your father began his legal career when you were 7 years old, and if he regularly discusses curious cases and interesting incidents with you, and if, quite importantly, you are smart enough to comprehend what he is saying, your understanding of the legal profession would not be meagre…

It is also noteworthy that if the aforementioned teen had grown up reading Douglas Adams, his appetite for this particular, characteristically dry and undeniably British, variety of humour would be higher than usual…

And, as you would probably have guessed, it was my father who introduced me to Cecil’s books, with Brothers in Law being one of the first. And, as with Blindsight, this book serves as the launchpad for Roger Thursby, the young lawyer who appears in another two books.

Now, as we can all imagine, the early days at your first job will always be challenging. You would take a while to understand where to be, what to do and how to act. And if, through the unwitting actions of your unreliable boss and mentor, you find yourself handling a case in front of domineering judge with no prior preparation, one can understand if you crash and burn. And that is what happens with our young protagonist.

Add to that the fact that you live alone with your dearly ditzy mother, and find yourself in love with two young ladies, and you have got yourself an interesting plot.

The ultimate selling point of this book, as with most of his books, is the writer’s astute observation of how the law works, and how it occasionally doesn’t. Once again, it is the writer’s real-life experience as a lawyer, and later as a judge, that sets his books apart from the rest.

The detractors of this book complain that since the legal system, and really the entire society, has changed over the past several decades, the audience would not relate to it.

While I do accept that the society has changed, as demonstrated by the diminishment in the class and gender divide, the basic nature of humans does not change; neither does the essence of the law.

And if an audience can relate to a world that has never existed, managing to do so with one that did exist a few years back does not seem unreasonable.

Still, the niche does exist for a reason…

Either way, you can find the book here.

And even if you don’t enjoy it all that much, you have at max wasted 6 hours of your life. Cut an hour of sleep for a week, and your will have it covered.

Well, that is all for today…

Thank you.

PS: The pages of this book smell of vanilla. Just saying…

 

Word of the Week #22:

Syndicate

As a kid, I was under the impression that this word is only applicable to big, bad organisations that did big, bad things… If you have read the previous post in this category, you would probably see to which organisations I am referring.

That was why I found it strange to see a major bank using the word in its name, forcing me to examine.

Ever since I have known what it is, I have wanted to form one. You have to admit, it is more fun than joining one that already exists…

And finally, over the past few months, I have had significant breakthroughs in this direction. I have finally begun meeting the kind of people that I can collaborate with.

Needless to say, I already have some pretty big plans. And while I wouldn’t like to reveal too much, I think I can see an alliance taking shape.

Will these be my partners-in-crime? Time will tell…

Character Origins #3: Edward and Byron

Year 1275AD

“Any thoughts, Your Highness?”

Edward did not respond. He just stared beyond the parapet, his feet rooted to the floor. Somehow, he still did not feel safe.

“How high is it?” Byron asked instead, his face, as usual, showed more fascination than fear.

“Ah! About thirty feet, Your Highness,” Captain Reiner replied, grinning.

“It is not much taller than that of Torden, then. The Wall of Lumiere is twice as tall, is it not?”

“Yes, it is, Your Highness. However, Ostra already has enough natural fortification towards three sides, and as you already know, Torden suffers from other constraints.”

Byron leaned over the parapet, much to his cousin’s chagrin. Taking a deep breath, he spat towards the ground, and observed it slowly falling through the air, and glittering under the noon sun.

“Sheesh, Byron!” Ed exclaimed, appalled at this display of audacity. “Stop it right now.”

“Now, now, let us not fight just yet,” Reiner interjected. “Although that is partly why we came up here.”

Upon hearing this, Edward froze completely, his eyes now fixed on the captain’s mouth.

“That is not what I meant,” Reiner clarified as he continued, suppressing a chortles. “His Majesty wishes to test your military acumen, and has charged me to conduct a little test. The premise is simple—Prince Byron is to lay siege to the City of Ostra, and Prince Edward is to defend. You both get to choose two hundred of Arrkaya’s finest warriors for your campaign. Observe the city, and the land around it, and tell me your strategy.”

“Why do I have to defend?” Edward protested shakily.

“It was His Majesty’s will,” was Reiner’s response, his raised nose and his shut eyes seemed to accentuate his already equine features.

“What time of the day?” Byron asked, his blue eyes glinting with enthusiasm. “And how is the weather? How many—”

“An invader would have to consider all possibilities, and come up with the best solution.”

Byron fell quiet. He had realised that since neither of the two had ever been here before, Ostra was an extremely fair location. It was not unlike King Edward to set such tests for them, but this one had definitely surpassed the rest. He could also understand that their appointed roles were actually the opposite of what their fathers had chosen, during the war.

Within minutes, his mind had come up with a few solutions, but he knew they were not the best. Ostra had, after all, been an integral part of Arrkaya, ever since its very inception. It had borne Heiligesian offence at its peak, and had never fallen. In comparison, even Torden seemed weak. Even from a distance, the fortification around the city seemed quite strong, with one gate towards the west, and other towards the east. He observed the locations, as plan begun to take form.

Surprisingly, it was Ed who answered first. Captain Reiner quickly led him out of earshot, before asking him to proceed. Gently running a hand through his short, golden hair, Ed began.

“Firstly, it is fair to assume that the enemy would depend on catapults, to break into the city, and later into the castle. Therefore, engaging from the fortification is not a great idea. Instead, I would command the soldiers atop the fort wall to just drop the portcullis, and hide inside houses along the way towards the centre of the city. Breaking through the gateway would take a few minutes, which would allow the civilians to escape into the castle. Then, the Castle Gate can be shut.

“The only threat that remains is the catapults. It is widely known that normal soldiers cannot operate catapults; one would require special training to operate them. And these men would be towards the end of an invading force. They can be handled by the soldiers hiding inside the houses. This way, we minimise our losses, and weaken the enemy, till the reinforcements can arrive.”

Reiner acknowledged with a gentle nod. He could not quite show it yet, but he was thoroughly impressed. Although the answer was far from perfect, while also being rather vaguely worded, it was better than he had expected from a young prince who had had no real experience. He expectantly turned towards Byron, who stood deep in thought.

“This city is rather small,” Byron finally remarked. “And the East Gate is somewhat closer to the Castle. Is that why the Castle Gate is towards the south?”

“That is a very astute observation, Your Highness.”

“That fact can hurt us… See, since the city has two gates, the force of the defence can never completely focus on one side. It just cannot happen. On the other hand, once the invader has entered the city, the Castle Gate becomes the singular focus of the offence. In such a situation, catapults will become vital.”

Byron continued to speak for what seemed like half an hour. By the end, Edward had begrudgingly accepted defeat, silently muttering something about vengeance, while Byron continued jeering. Reiner, on the other hand, had been left completely speechless. His mind was filled with concern for his city. Never before had anybody broken through their defences, even in theory.

It is almost strange how similar they both are to their fathers, he noted, under his breath. The Shield and the Spear of Arrkaya remain strong… Our future is in safe hands.

“Lunch has been served. We were waiting.”

Reiner’s thoughts were interrupted by the voice of a boy speaking to the two princes. He could not help but wonder who the kid was. Somehow, he had not noticed him in the entourage, the day before. His entire face being obscured, by the shaggy, red hair and the oversized scarf, did not help either. And yet, he spoke to the royalty as if he was one of them.

Reiner moved towards them, having made up his mind to teach the brat some manners, when a sudden breeze moved the hair off his face. He felt a chill down his spine, as he caught a glimpse of the large scar on his cheek. In that instant, their eyes met. Those cold, grey eyes… Somehow, they left him frozen.

Who is this kid?

Characters:





Trivia:
Edward:

His name and appearance is inspired by a popular anime character.
The name Gyldene translates to golden, a reference to their golden hair.

Byron:

His name and appearance are partly inspired from the romantic poet Lord Byron, with the hair being a major exception.
Byron is ambidextrous by birth.

Image credits: Rinmaru Games

Book of the Week #21:

Don Quixote,
by Miguel de Cervantes

When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies? Perhaps to be too practical is madness. To surrender dreams — this may be madness — and the maddest of all: to see life as it is, and not as it should be!

Okay, after the short detour, we return to the realm of literary heavyweights. And what book to begin with better than Don Quixote, often referred to as first significant European novel of the Modern Age.

I often find writing about a book that carries such reputation to be quite daunting; and often equally unnecessary, since everything that does need to be said about such books already has been, and by great minds than myself.

However, with this one, I will make an exception, because it is my personal connection to the story that makes it special…

When my father first handed me the book, I had no idea of its reputation, and unlike most books in this segment, I ended up reading this when I was too young for it. However, while my mind was not quite ready to comprehend its true depth, my heart did immediately connect with the eponymous protagonist.

Basically, the story is about a middle-aged bibliophile whose mind, through a combination of fantansic stories about heroic knights and several years of sleep deprivation, has supposedly dried up, causing him to recruit a peasant as his squire, he setting off seeking adventure and romance.

Owing to his addled brain, he sees the world around him quite different from what it actually is, instead living out a fantasy, often to humorous, but occasionally tragic, results.

This might be the earliest reference to augmented reality. And the reaction was not the same as one would expect today, wherein if you claim to see a big, scarlet, winged serpent floating outside your balcony, people do not laugh and jeer. Instead, they flock around your house, hoping to catch it…

Throughout the length of the story, the author questions the reader’s understanding of reality, sanity and morality, without sounding too preachy…

Oddly enough, Cervantes himself serves as the narrator of the story, claiming to be translating an existing manuscript by one Cide Hamete Benengali. At one point, he even states that the characters are aware of the book, and that they even try to alter parts of the story.

These claims, however, are fictitious, making the author an unreliable narrator. Pretty weird, right?

As a result, the narrative style can leave the reader somewhat disoriented, which seems to compound the effect of the prevelant themes.

Even at a very young age, I often found myself disenchanted by this world we live in, and would often spend hours at stretch wondering what our lives could, if only for a few minor tweaks.

That, of course, meant my attention towards reality in general, and academics in particular, was lacking. However, after having ended up as a writer, focusing on fantasy and faux-history, I can categorically state that things did eventually work out.

Despite the wide disconnect between myself and the setting of early seventeenth century Spain, I can see a part of myself in this book, and according to me, that is what makes it a true masterpiece.

I would wholeheartedly recommend it to all the whimsical souls whose minds have been messed up by this boring world of ours…

You can find the book here.

Well, that is all for today.

Thank you.

Word of the Week #21:

Clandestine

Now, this is a word we often encounter in James Bond movies, where a famous businessman also happens to be the head of a big, bad organisation that does big, bad things…

Of course, such organisations exist only in popular fiction and equally unpopular conspiracy theories, right?

After all, our ever-so-vigilant government would immediately hunt them down and kick their ass, right?

Like, if they can claim to put us in jail for opening Torrent sites, one must assume the country has run out of big, bad guys to prosecute and is now scouring the land for the tiniest of bad guys, right?

Now, in a country like this, the honest, unassuming citizens would have no choice but to believe that every organisation in their land is looking out for their best interests, and not pillaging their resources and destroying their future, right?

Naturally, there is no way the society and the education system have been so far corrupted that entire generations believe their only purpose in life is to work as skilled labour, in servitude towards their benign overlords, right?

I wonder how much of this actually sounds right… Well, maybe I am just one of those bloody consipracy theorists…

After all, fantasy is my forte, right.