Money-Less Society – A movement towards abundance
The other day I was watching a program on Discovery Channel, about how the Egyptian civilization, one of the most advanced in the world in its time suddenly disappeared in a span of only one generation. The reason, they said, was the life line of the civilization, the river Nile, had dried up. The Nile was used for everything, those days, right from agriculture facilitated by the floods, which brought nutrients and water to the basin, to transportation of food, people and even the heavy rocks that were the building blocks of the pyramids and other buildings.
The pyramids were a sign of power of the Pharaohs who were considered as Gods who protected the people from droughts and provided, for rains and food and well being. The cause was a change in the ocean currents that stopped the ice from melting in the north, which, in turn, caused the Nile to dry up. This was 4000 years ago (2000 BC) and some of the pyramids still have evidences in the form of inscriptions, showing how desperate, disastrous and horrifying the consequences were. It not only caused people to fight with each other for food, but it went to the extent where parents killed their own children and ate them.
If we go back another 2000 yrs (approximately 4000 BC) the Sahara Desert in Africa was a jungle. Then came climatic changes, which caused desertification and the hunters living in those jungles to eventually settled around the river Nile and this formed one of the greatest civilizations in History. It is daunting to think that the people in the most advanced civilization would resort to eating their own children for survival.
Since then people realized that the Pharaohs lacked the power to protect them. This eventually caused the end of Pyramids.
Now let us come forward to present day. If we open the newspapers we often see families committing mass suicides, killing their own children and then killing themselves. We are in the midst of a recession. However if we examine, the cause of this recession, it is not because of a crop failure, or sudden drop in the resources that we humans need to survive or thrive. It is merely because of the amount of debt that accumulated in the economy.
If we look at the other great depression we know of, again we see the same phenomena. Here are the top five causes:-
1. Stock Market Crash of 1929
2. Bank Failures
3. Reduction in Purchasing Across the Board
4. American Economic Policy with Europe
5. Drought Conditions:- While not a direct cause of the Great Depression, the drought that occurred in the Mississippi Valley in 1930 was of such proportions that many could not even pay their taxes or other debts and had to sell their farms for no profit to themselves. This was the topic of John Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath.
Again, it is not the lack of resources, but it is because of money, and the importance it has in our society. Even the only condition which affected the resource availability, the droughts, had such drastic effects because of debt and taxes and not so much the drought in itself.
The other day someone sent a joke about ‘Money’… I’ll quote him below.
“It is August. In a small town on the South Coast of France, holiday season is in full swing, but it is raining so there is not too much business happening. Everyone is heavily in debt. Luckily, a rich Russian tourist arrives in the foyer of the small local hotel. He asks for a room and puts a Euro100 note on the reception counter as a deposit, takes a key and goes to inspect the room located up the stairs on the third floor.The hotel owner takes the banknote in hurry and rushes to his meat supplier to whom he owes E100.The butcher takes the money and races to his wholesale supplier to pay his debt.The wholesaler rushes to the farmer to pay E100 for pigs he purchased some time ago..The farmer triumphantly gives the E100 note to a local prostitute who gave him her services on credit.The prostitute goes quickly to the hotel, as she owed the hotel for her hourly room use to entertain clients.At that moment, the rich Russian is coming down to the reception and informs the hotel owner that the proposed room is unsatisfactory and takes his E100 back and departs.There was no profit or income. But everyone no longer has any debt and the small town people look optimistically towards their future.COULD THIS BE THE SOLUTION TO THE Global Financial Crisis? Or, is there a catch here?”
This joke, however corny, is an eye opener about the importance we humans have given to money as a society. While the Egyptians were driven to such horrifying results through the lack of an essential resource – water, today people are being driven to almost equally horrifying ends, because of money and not lack of a particular resource in society.
This trend can only get worse. Why? Because, every field is trying to automate their processes, be it services, or agriculture, or manufacturing. This is to bring down the prices so that the corporations can make more profits and be more efficient, while in the process people are losing their purchasing power, which would in turn affect the sale of these same products which were made cheap.
One more revealing fact that comes out if you closely examine money, or cash, or a note, is what it stands for. It says – “I promise to pay the bearer a sum of X Rupees” (in Indian Context). What does this mean? It means you owe, it means it is debt. How did that note end up in your pocket? Well, the Government printed it, and loaned it to a bank for interest, the bank in turn loaned it so some entity, which in turn, provided a service or a product in return for that loan to be passed on. You in turn have provided a service or a product, so that you could get it. What did the government do to own all the value of all the products and services associated with it? It just printed a piece of paper, which is almost worthless in itself.
Do you know what slavery is? Someone being made or forced to work against one’s own will. The whole country is working for that piece of paper without which it will be denied the right to live, since he cannot buy food, water, shelter etc. In earlier cases, violence was used to get slaves to build the pyramids, but now it has become way more ‘high tech’ where we do not realize that we are slaves. Remember that nagging feeling you get on a Monday morning? Well that is your subconscious mind telling you that you are a slave. There are 90% chances, if not for the money you would not be doing what you are doing currently for a living.
Earlier religion, fear of God, force etc. was used by the Pharaohs to enslave people, now a select group of people, have found a much more efficient way and that my friends is a mere piece of paper - money. It doesn’t stop there, for every value we add, for every bit of work we do to earn that wretched piece of paper is taxed. Every time it exchanges hands, it is taxed. What happens to this money we are paying? Someone is winning, after all! That someone is the 10% population – the investors, the corporations, the banks, and of course the politicians who are in turn paid by those investors or corporations. So in effect 90% of us are in fact slaves.
Now let us look at another seemingly unrelated example: Oxygen. The most essential element for human survival, we’ll die if we do not get it for even 5 minutes, we can go without food or water for days, but not without oxygen. If all the oxygen was taken away from earth, for five minutes, life would perish (except for the plants and some bacteria). Yet since it is available in abundance, we see no dispute over it. No one points out “that you have too many children and they are taking up way too much oxygen” or there are no laws governing the consumption of oxygen, no one tries to steal oxygen, there are no jealousies arising because of oxygen, there are no crimes related to oxygen, yet this is the most vital element for human existence.
If we take a look at the causes of human suffering today, war, crime, poverty, hunger, stress – the root cause in every case is scarcity. Yet the resources in our planet are abundant if they are properly utilized and can support a population many times that of our population today. If there were no constraints about the “price” of resources, technology exists today, that could make life full of abundance for everyone on earth. That’s right, everyone on earth.
How? Let us explore this a little. Our earth has the same quantity of elements (the basic building structures of all matter, be it solid, liquid or gasses.) for billions of years since its inception. That quantity has not changed. Life is a cycle that depends on a unique balance, say for example the food chain. What we consume, we also excrete in the form of gasses (CO2, H2O etc.), or in the form of liquids or solids (urine and feces, which then fertilizes the soil, and are ‘eaten’ by plants, that we eat either directly or eat those animals which in turn eat these plants, and thus closing the cycle. The same is true for the CO2 we breathe out, without which the plants would not survive. So as long as the cycle is complete, as long as we maintain the balance, we can have as many human beings as physically possible. We’ll look at some of the resources we humans need below.
Space – Housing
Sitting in a traffic jam on a Monday morning while going to office could make it seem “there are way too many people than the earth can handle” but in reality, there is a lot of space, if we did not have to crowd the cities. Villages are not overpopulated. There is so much space that is not utilized. On a week end drive away from your city and you’ll notice the empty spaces. Then there are the jungles, there are oceans, there are many possibilities. Technology exists today, which can make it possible for people to live in these terrains, oceans, mountains, deserts etc. very comfortably. Do you need examples? Look at Dubai or Los Angeles that were built on deserts. Look at Netherlands that was built on an ocean, there are buildings being designed now that will be floating on the ocean in Japan. The resources needed to build such housing also exists in abundance, if, there were no constraints of “money”.
Food
Have you ever heard of Hydroponics? It is a system where plants are grown without soil. They are anchored on a media (burnt clay pellets, or sand, or pebbles etc, to provide support) and there is a stream of water and nutrients (nitrogen, phosphorous, calcium, potassium etc.) that flow underneath and is re-circulated over and over again. This way plants can be grown vertically, one over another, thereby increasing the amount of yield per amount of space available to grow food. On top of this, the quantity of water and fertilizers needed are a fraction of what is otherwise needed in conventional agriculture. The yield in this form of agriculture is much more per plant than conventional agriculture. So again food can be grown anywhere, if we can artificially maintain the temperature and humidity and light required for that plant to grow, you can grow as much as you want. Yes even in deserts and oceans. Again, this can be done on a massive scale, provided, there is no constraint of “money” to set up these systems. The resources and technology exists today. Oh yes, the food will be organic, no harmful chemicals and pesticides will need to be consumed.
Energy
The sun shines enough energy on earth in an hour that we humans, collectively all over the world, could consume in one year. Then there is Geo Thermal Energy, Wind Energy, Energy from tides and ocean currents that are in abundance. They cause virtually no pollution and again technology and resources exist today. If there were no constraint of money, this could happen worldwide.
Consumer Goods
If manufactures had no constraints of profit, or “money” they could produce items that’d last a hundred years, without ever having to be replaced. That in itself would reduce wastage, and provide for everyone in abundance. If there was no cost involved, we could recycle almost everything thereby maintaining a balance in the ecosystem while providing for everyone.
Every day we read about scientific breakthroughs that can affect mankind positively, yet the only reason they are not available today to the public is because they are not “commercially” viable.
Could we survive without money in a society? Yes. We could not survive without the resources, but we can survive without money. If there is no money where is the incentive for people to perform or work? The answer lies in the following facts.
1. Great authors did not write for money
2. The great scientists did not invent or devote their lives to science for money
3. Great painters did not paint for money
4. The people who invented the airplane the telephone, electricity or almost anything without which life today would be incomplete did not invent them for money
5. 90% of the population today would not do what they are doing if they did not need the money, instead they’d do what they love, what they are good at, what gives them a sense of satisfaction, a sense of achievement just like the ones mentioned in the first 4 points.
Yet there will be work that’ll have to be done which people would not do if not for the money. These will be done by machines. Such technology and resources, again as I mentioned before, exists today, only they are not ‘commercially viable’.
Another revealing fact that comes out, if you closely examine money, or cash, or a note, is what it stands for. It says – “I promise to pay the bearer a sum of X Rupees” (in Indian Context). What does this mean? It means you owe, it means it is debt.
How did that note end up in your pocket? Well, the Government printed it, and loaned it to a bank for interest, the bank in turn loaned it so some entity, which in turn, provided a service or a product in return for that loan to be passed on. You in turn have provided a service or a product, so that you could get it. What did the government do to own all the value of all the products and services associated with it? It just printed a piece of paper, which is almost worthless in itself.
Do you know what slavery is? Someone being made or forced to work against one’s own will. The whole country is working for that piece of paper without which it will be denied the right to live, since he cannot buy food, water, shelter etc. In earlier cases, violence was used to get slaves to build the pyramids, but now it has become way more ‘high tech’ where we do not realize that we are slaves. Remember that nagging feeling you get on a Monday morning? Well that is your subconscious mind telling you that you are a slave. There are 90% chances, if not for the money you would not be doing what you are doing currently for a living.
Earlier religion, fear of God, force etc. was used by the Pharaohs to enslave people, now a select group of people, have found a much more efficient way and that my friends is a mere piece of paper - money. It doesn’t stop there, for every value we add, for every bit of work we do to earn that wretched piece of paper is taxed. Every time it exchanges hands, it is taxed. Earlier people were put in chains, and those chains were feared and hated. Now however, that chain comes with a disguise – in the form of notes! Ironically, those notes (chains) bring a lot of smile on our faces and we willingly allow ourselves to be chained or enslaved!
What happens to this money we are paying? Someone is gaining, after all! That someone is the 10% population – the investors, the corporations, the banks, and of course the politicians who are in turn paid by those investors or corporations. So in effect 90% of us are in fact slaves and are working relentlessly so that the select 10% control the rest of our lives, all the power and wealth. We have all heard that 10% of the population own 90% of the wealth on earth, rich are becoming even richer and poor are becoming poorer. This is how we humans have evolved. Not just humans, animals and plants too. It is just a matter of where one lies in the food chain. So where are you in the food chain? Those select 10% or the rest of the 90% who are struggling with the 10% wealth?
The problem with this uneven distribution is that the ones with the wealth also control the earth’s resources. Those resources were here since the beginning of time. They belong to everyone, not only humans but also animals and plants. So if I have control over the oil reserves, I have the power to exploit it to my advantage at the cost of destroying our planet. If I own an arms and ammunitions company then “peace” is my most feared enemy and since I have the guns, I also get to prevent peace from prevailing at any cost. If I own a construction company, I have no incentive to build a road or bridge on schedule because I know the more I can delay the project, I get paid more for the same amount of work through wages for labor. Considering I also have money to pay the politicians or authorities, who are there to supervise me, I can get away with a lot of money at the cost of convenience to the public. Who is paying for that road to be constructed? You guessed it – it’s you the tax payer. So corruption is profitable. This being the case and the world’s most powerful people profiting from corruption would it ever end? No matter how many people vote and whichever party comes into power?
Let’s say you are one of the 10% and decide that you want to end corruption, will you be able to? The rest of them in the 10% will just make you disappear. This is evident from the assassinations of presidents of countries who actually wanted the people – the common man to benefit, and not some global corporations or a powerful country.
Imagine the amount of energy and resources that goes into creating and protecting borders between countries. The amount of research that goes into creating super weapons, guided missiles, nuclear bombs, battleships, surveillance satellites and then maintaining them. Imagine the number of people dying on both sides of the border and all this sacrifice for what? And what are we protecting really? At the core we are no different from the people on the other side of the border. We need the same nutrition, we live approximately the same number of years, we have the same diseases, we have the same dreams and aspirations, and we reproduce the same way. If you think about it, whenever there is war, it has never ever benefited the common man. It has only benefited the kings, or the politicians or the owners of very large corporations. Before partition of India, Hindus and Muslims lived in the same localities, and just when India was about get its independence, some people saw an opportunity and divided the two nations by instigating people using religion. The rest is history, the neighbors turned into foes, criminals got wings, and the number of lives lost is appalling. The people who benefited at that time are long gone, but the hurt and hatred that was created lives even to this day. People were hurt on both sides of the border.
If the same resources, the same focus, the same energy, the same research was directed towards abolishing poverty, providing safe housing, sanitation, food, healthcare, seeking renewable energy, developing technology to abolish manual labor, we’d all have a much better lifestyle, and a solution to most problems humanity faces today.
No religion teaches violence, yet most wars have been instigated using religion as an excuse. What is surprising is everyone realizes that the Quran, the Bible, the Bhagwat Gita, the Guru Granth Sahib all teach the same things, yet we have strong religious biases. We teach children fairy tales, where good always triumphs over evil, and in turn they grow up classifying others as good or evil. While we all know that at the core we are all the same.
Today because of the Internet, satellite television and technology we are able to connect with people from all over the globe. We can learn recipes from different parts of the globe through the internet and make the best of dishes, and by learning through video recipes, even a novice can cook as good as grandma! Technology is making a lot of specialists redundant with so much information available free of cost on the internet. We are able to play games on real time where each player is in different parts of the world. Through video conferencing we can communicate with others who are thousands of miles away. There is no reason why we should have any more borders, states or countries. Instead we have the power to unite as one global community and not let a select group of people benefit from the miseries of the common man. If you think about it, these borders are a pain for the common man. Why? Billions of dollars of taxpayer’s money is spent on defending these borders at the cost of infrastructure, or basic amenities, sanitation, nutrition or healthcare. The common man is the soldier who dies defending something created by someone else for his or her own benefit. What a waste of lives and resources.
It is time we wake up from our slumber, wake up and decide not to be slaves anymore, not to be exploited any more. It is time we truly globalize, abolish all borders, abolish all currencies and unite as one race – Homo sapiens. It is time we have the greatest revolutions of all time – one of peace, one of abundance, one of happiness.
If this makes any sense to you and you think something should be done, there is good news for you. Something is being done about this. You can do something too! To see what is being done and how you can help make the change – go to www.thezeitgeistmovement.com and pass it on to as many people as possible before that select 10% shuts this movement down. If the movement becomes too big, no one can shut us down. Remember the Pharaohs could not protect the people of Egypt, they only claimed they could, similarly no government or corporation can protect you, or provide any well being. They only claim they can.
Please help spread awareness about this movement if you find any substance in it.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
the hourglass
As I wandered through the serpentine by-lanes of life, each of my footsteps seemed to find itself getting engulfed into a maze of sorts. I relied on memories and looked back at the bygone years to derive a cue from and to stride ahead; I unraveled a void- a magnanimous stretch of torturous void. Many a times I have looked up at the stars and asked a quiver full of – Whys and what ifs, and, the answer has always been just another equally evasive question. Hopes and dreams- the most innocuous of ambitions seemed to traverse through a self imposed change in identity. An identity- obnoxiously ambiguous
From keeping a piggy bank hidden below my bed to having my own bank account, the journey has been the same, yet different. I still remember I watched in pure admiration- the innocence of childhood, shielded from the cruel real word, by an array of kindness, rhapsody, laughter and honest faces as I walked back from school to an empty home with cold food kept on the table waiting for me. On the wall next to the table, there hung a picture I often said a subtle ‘hi’ to- a picture similar to one of those multitude of ‘kind’ faces. Times have changed, the essence hasn’t- I find myself in a clutter of obscure renditions of happiness and holding on to that same innocuous ambition to transform into a beloved reality
From keeping a piggy bank hidden below my bed to having my own bank account, the journey has been the same, yet different. I still remember I watched in pure admiration- the innocence of childhood, shielded from the cruel real word, by an array of kindness, rhapsody, laughter and honest faces as I walked back from school to an empty home with cold food kept on the table waiting for me. On the wall next to the table, there hung a picture I often said a subtle ‘hi’ to- a picture similar to one of those multitude of ‘kind’ faces. Times have changed, the essence hasn’t- I find myself in a clutter of obscure renditions of happiness and holding on to that same innocuous ambition to transform into a beloved reality
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
The Falcon Nemesis
The Falcon Nemesis
An abysmal melancholic aura shrouded the distant vicinity. A crimson slash smeared the once enthralling horizon. The winds and the dunes blew the same dust of hopelessness asserting the beginning of a wretched end, the dark nimbus clouds have the same tale to tell. A ravaged country lay ahead- the rock laced mountains, the desert sands- dark crimson stains hued every object. The mirage reflected it, the pale morning sky casted it, the sands and the dunes spoke about it; and the only sound that echoed out of that hellish dungeon were those of cries, wails, sobs and a deafening silence. Yes, a silence shriller than the most heinous of cries and a silence that’s becoming more and more pervasive by the minute. Gods own children lay crouched and wounded everywhere, the pale moon shining on the clots and divinity chuckling over its own creation.
Amidst the crimson rush, a mirror reflected the emaciated frame of a man trying incessantly to answer the questions asked by a shaken fate. He closed his eyes to shun everything that encapsulated him but with a constant nagging fear that he has to open it again and behold things that he never wanted to. He knew exactly why all this has occurred, it was inevitable, yet avoidable coz as they say truth and life are somehow stranger than the strangest of fictions.
The time-clock traced it back to September 11, when the mightiest nation fell victim to the wrath of one man. History repeated itself like it always does but this time, it did so with a propelled magnitude. He consciously defied the judgment of destiny because he believed that the weeping deity is wandering in the maze created by his own creation. Revenge begets revenge- begets revenge.
The frail emaciated frame stepped out of its dilapidated shack and what followed next bedazzled humanity for all times and time itself stood testimony to the fact. The vicissitudes of fate is to weave a destiny that fate itself would shiver to behold.
Six hours ahead.
A muted telephone buzzed in the office of Mike Derek, a retired senior officer of the US CIA bureau, now running his own private detective agency. He chose not to answer the call, instead flipped on a pre-recorded voice message- “Hi Charles, I am out for an urgent meeting, will ring you back, your papers have been dispatched friend, lets catch up for a drink on Friday. Goodbye”. A childish grin lightened the countenance of the man on the other side of the phone because his name was not Charles and he got the cue which was precisely meant for him. He smiled
Chapter 2
Time: 17:00 hours
Place: Delhi International Airport, India
Day- Wednesday
A uniformed bespectacled man in his mid-forties was sweeping the floor adjacent to the arrival terminal entry gate of the airport. Charles walked right up to him and muttered- “I am so sorry to bother you, I think I had dropped my pen here a while back, have you by any chance managed to see it somewhere here? The man looked up at Charles and at the same time dropped a worn out pouch on the floor which he pretended to be seen as accidental. Charles got the message again, picked up the bag and strode inside. The bag had all those documents that Mike alerted him about; the stack of parchments that established Charles as a legitimate citizen of the United States of America and some hand drawn maps.
Time: 1800 hours
Place: New York City, United States of America
Day- Friday
It was summer- a wet mist brewed twilight and the sun racing to hide behind the crimson horizon in the vicinity, after the day long downpour. The airport was swarming with people- not as much unlikely for a busy nation.. He quietly walked past the aisle, traversed a few yards and waved at a Taxi. A polite voice confirmed- Washington DC? The driver gave an assured smile and zoomed past. Thirty minutes later, a few miles down the foreign streets, the rear view mirror of Charles’s Cab reflected the remaining traces and a clumsy void that once housed- no too long ago- the world’s tallest towers, a bustling business arena, one of the most populated site of New York City. As the man sitting at the rear-seat of the car struck a match to light a cigarette, within the bluish yellow flame he could see the same void stretch of land- sans boundaries as it seemed- but not the one that housed the twin towers, but that of his ravaged country, palate of sands and blood- which now housed innocent victims of some satanic catastrophe for which they were not responsible in any distant manner. His country- Afghanistan.
The Taxi screeched to a halt in front of St. Allen’s bakery at a shady crossroad of Washington DC. Charles got off the cab, tipped off the driver and walked inside. Smiling at the guests who gathered there for their supper he climbed up the stairway, knocked and entered Room No 42. As he closed the door behind him- “Welcome my guest” whispered a voice, distinctly different from the voice which once said- “Hi Charles, I am out for an urgent meeting, will ring you back, your papers have been dispatched friend, lets catch up for a drink on Friday. Goodbye”. As Charles pulled aside a chair to sit down, his eyes met someone he knew well enough. Someone, who was a prisoner of somewhat same kind of fate; known to the outsiders as a guardian of the federal law- Officer Mike Derek.
“So Charles, tell me how have you been? Any problems?”. All that came from the other side was a smirk and the quietest possible “No”. Mike rang the bell for coffee. Neither of the two exchanged a singe intelligible word till the last sip of the warm brew, perhaps they both knew why they are here for- they surely knew. “Goodbye Charles, don’t forget to take some rest, you must be fatigued, we got a lot of work to do, busy days ahead of us…hoping to see you tomorrow morning- Mike placed a torn piece of paper on the table beside the bed and walked out.
Charles switched off the lights and lied down. As his glance swept past across the room and then outside the window, he saw the neon board which displayed “The School of Cyber Artillery” across the narrow byline on the other side; where he met Mike for the first time six years ago. Nothing has changed through all these years except the circumstances, the purpose and the resultant horrific misinterpretation of existence- to live and strive towards achieving a distorted and destructive objective- infuse terror and attain vengeance.
As thoughts spun down the memory lane, a kaleidoscope of colors, images, voices and events crossed his mind- Charles fell asleep.
At around 5 AM in the morning, the silence of the dark room was troubled by a noisy telephone ring. It rang thrice and stopped. Charles woke up, got dressed in one of his best business suits, climbed down the staircase, crossed the road and picked up the parcel which said, “Mr David, C/O “The School of Cyber Artillery”, 5th Main, 2nd Cross, . Washington DC. A familiar expression appeared on Charles’s face, the expression is always there whenever this man is too sure of himself. He walked up to a stationary shop round the corner of the road as the shopkeeper was pulling the shutter up for cleaning before the busy day starts. Charles purchased a few cables, cartridges, camera, a few blank DVDs and some metals. “Hi Charles, Howah, whassup? Haven’t seen you around for quite some time…How is Della? Where are you putting up? You are no more in that school I hope?. Yes, Charles was a poor student and he was subjected to such sarcasm earlier as well.
“No, I am putting up at California, am a restaurateur now” was the crisp short answer to those quiver full of questions. The shop-owner seemed quite content with that answer and didn’t bother to ask anymore questions. He smiled, shook hands and got back to his cleaning. Charles left- Never to meet him again.
Next day, the daily news paper reported the death of the shop owner. Reason cited- Bankruptcy and debt. Charles knew a different version of the story which is best untold. There was no Mr David in that school either to whom the parcel was addressed.
Charles retired to his one room apartment atop the bakery where the crowd has gathered for their morning cuppa of tea and muffins. He did not take the main entrance this time, but the spiral stairs in the backyard. He decided to catch up on the slumber, interrupted in between.
After completing their education in the “The School of Cyber Artillery”, he and Mike were colleagues at the Pentagon, working as cyber security administrators and IT infrastructure supervisors along with four others. This was about five years ago. A one-liner telegram cost him his career, his happy and fulfilled life, ruined him and brought him home, never to make him come back again.
The time has arrived to knock at the door of destiny, crafted by that telegram; which now brought him here amidst the peace and tranquility in a ruthless search of vengeance and catastrophe. A catastrophe that will make the world’s biggest nation fall to its knees. The pages of history would be written by an event that history itself would shiver to behold. Charles took out the laptop from the same parcel and switched it on…
Time 2:30am
Charles computer screen displayed an e-bomb manual- the same military grade weapon that a CIA-supported Internet watchdog, Search for International Terrorist Entities institute, raised an alarm on August 7 when it noticed the e- bomb manual circulating in jihadi fora supporting Pakistan, Iraq, Afghanistan and Chechnya movements.
As the hour-glass struck 3 am, some cracking sounds were heard at pentagon’s IT systems hall- almost unheard. Seconds’ later, all electronic systems went totally dysfunctional, the computers and even the main data source got completely erased- or so they thought
A few days ago a newspaper carried the story of terror organizations in Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iraq and Chechnya circulating popular jihadi Internet manuals to make Electromagenetic Pulse (EMP) bombs that can wipe out data from computers within minutes. A powerful radiation of electromagnetic waves generate as soon as an EMP, also known as an e-bomb, explodes while passing through any electronic gadget and it disables it. The cyber security officials raised an alarm as soon as they found out that this time the victim is them.
Charles entered a password- the third and the final try- The Falcon Core 2046! Confidential mission critical military information resources, ammunition reports, experimental trial documents of nuclear weapons and their sites, flowcharts, formulae , , technical documents, top secret de-coded defense equipments files, ammunition reports were remotely downloaded from the storage infrastructure and computer networks.
The cyber- surveillance team of pentagon did their job….emergency back-up on, anti- virus software activated, the shield put up, networks were shut down and disabled – The hacker traced – But it was too late…
3:30 am- Charles walks out of that shabby hotel room, leaves all doors open…after disabling all the laptop’s functional features, wraps it in the same package in which he had found it. Crosses the road to that same ammunition academy from where he had picked up the parcel from… puts it at the doorstep and walks off.
Carefully wrapping the hard-drive and the cds, he strode inside Suniville hotel, asked the man behind the counter- I want to stay here for the night, here is my id- The name it carried was – Dan Sullivan…I am expecting a friend of mine to come tomorrow morning at around 8, please send him upstairs. The man behind the counter replied- I am so sorry Mr Sullivan, actually your friend was here a while ago, he waited for quite some time and left, left a parcel for you- here it is and your keys sir…
The same smirk appeared again on Charles chiseled countenance- No problemo, thanks for your help, see you, bye…With those words, Charles went up the stairs to his hotel room. A uniformed man was waiting at the door- silently uttered ‘Mike’. Charles handed over the bag of cds and the hardrive to him and went inside. The parcel contained his flight tickets and the ‘friend’ and the man in the uniform was the same person, sent by Mike Derek.
Charles smiled.
4th July, Time 11:00 am
United States of America was in a pensive mood- The celebrations of Independence Day was muffled by the frantic news telecast over all national broadcast channels of the last night’s data theft and the explosions. The elite investigative departments sprung into action to trace the culprit and negate the losses. - Charles smiled and boarded his flight.
11:30 am- Suddenly, all electronic channel broadcast was interrupted- People thought it to be a security measure. Every household was wondering how grave the issue was- The screens go blank, comes back and what all of the multitudes of screens displayed now was more than just nightmarish to the millions of American citizen who woke of to a morning of celebrations and merrymaking.
Iraq, Afghanistan, China, India, Pakistan, Russia, Uzbekistan and channels of a few neighboring countries displayed the title “The Falcon Nemesis” with Pentagons’ logo in the background followed by - in complete graphic detail; all the confidential security vault guarded information that was robbed last night….
The nation watched with bewilderment- emergency announced- curfew launched- all broadcast stopped- FBI and CIA was tipped off- The President gets a phone call- “The Falcon Nemesis is here Sir- That beautiful reality show is being aired internationally Mr President. It is up on the Internet as well. I am sending you a copy of the CD for your comfort. Enjoy!”- a laugh…beep beep beep beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep….The deafening silence prevailed…
6 days later- A car bomb killed 10 army personnel and injured many others at one of the US Military contingent at Abu Dhabi.
20 days later, a passenger airplane- Airbus G 599 crashed and massacred the Navy headquarters at the Pentagon city.
The nemesis has begun…
An abysmal melancholic aura shrouded the distant vicinity. A crimson slash smeared the once enthralling horizon. The winds and the dunes blew the same dust of hopelessness asserting the beginning of a wretched end, the dark nimbus clouds have the same tale to tell. A ravaged country lay ahead- the rock laced mountains, the desert sands- dark crimson stains hued every object. The mirage reflected it, the pale morning sky casted it, the sands and the dunes spoke about it; and the only sound that echoed out of that hellish dungeon were those of cries, wails, sobs and a deafening silence. Yes, a silence shriller than the most heinous of cries and a silence that’s becoming more and more pervasive by the minute. Gods own children lay crouched and wounded everywhere, the pale moon shining on the clots and divinity chuckling over its own creation.
Amidst the crimson rush, a mirror reflected the emaciated frame of a man trying incessantly to answer the questions asked by a shaken fate. He closed his eyes to shun everything that encapsulated him but with a constant nagging fear that he has to open it again and behold things that he never wanted to. He knew exactly why all this has occurred, it was inevitable, yet avoidable coz as they say truth and life are somehow stranger than the strangest of fictions.
The time-clock traced it back to September 11, when the mightiest nation fell victim to the wrath of one man. History repeated itself like it always does but this time, it did so with a propelled magnitude. He consciously defied the judgment of destiny because he believed that the weeping deity is wandering in the maze created by his own creation. Revenge begets revenge- begets revenge.
The frail emaciated frame stepped out of its dilapidated shack and what followed next bedazzled humanity for all times and time itself stood testimony to the fact. The vicissitudes of fate is to weave a destiny that fate itself would shiver to behold.
Six hours ahead.
A muted telephone buzzed in the office of Mike Derek, a retired senior officer of the US CIA bureau, now running his own private detective agency. He chose not to answer the call, instead flipped on a pre-recorded voice message- “Hi Charles, I am out for an urgent meeting, will ring you back, your papers have been dispatched friend, lets catch up for a drink on Friday. Goodbye”. A childish grin lightened the countenance of the man on the other side of the phone because his name was not Charles and he got the cue which was precisely meant for him. He smiled
Chapter 2
Time: 17:00 hours
Place: Delhi International Airport, India
Day- Wednesday
A uniformed bespectacled man in his mid-forties was sweeping the floor adjacent to the arrival terminal entry gate of the airport. Charles walked right up to him and muttered- “I am so sorry to bother you, I think I had dropped my pen here a while back, have you by any chance managed to see it somewhere here? The man looked up at Charles and at the same time dropped a worn out pouch on the floor which he pretended to be seen as accidental. Charles got the message again, picked up the bag and strode inside. The bag had all those documents that Mike alerted him about; the stack of parchments that established Charles as a legitimate citizen of the United States of America and some hand drawn maps.
Time: 1800 hours
Place: New York City, United States of America
Day- Friday
It was summer- a wet mist brewed twilight and the sun racing to hide behind the crimson horizon in the vicinity, after the day long downpour. The airport was swarming with people- not as much unlikely for a busy nation.. He quietly walked past the aisle, traversed a few yards and waved at a Taxi. A polite voice confirmed- Washington DC? The driver gave an assured smile and zoomed past. Thirty minutes later, a few miles down the foreign streets, the rear view mirror of Charles’s Cab reflected the remaining traces and a clumsy void that once housed- no too long ago- the world’s tallest towers, a bustling business arena, one of the most populated site of New York City. As the man sitting at the rear-seat of the car struck a match to light a cigarette, within the bluish yellow flame he could see the same void stretch of land- sans boundaries as it seemed- but not the one that housed the twin towers, but that of his ravaged country, palate of sands and blood- which now housed innocent victims of some satanic catastrophe for which they were not responsible in any distant manner. His country- Afghanistan.
The Taxi screeched to a halt in front of St. Allen’s bakery at a shady crossroad of Washington DC. Charles got off the cab, tipped off the driver and walked inside. Smiling at the guests who gathered there for their supper he climbed up the stairway, knocked and entered Room No 42. As he closed the door behind him- “Welcome my guest” whispered a voice, distinctly different from the voice which once said- “Hi Charles, I am out for an urgent meeting, will ring you back, your papers have been dispatched friend, lets catch up for a drink on Friday. Goodbye”. As Charles pulled aside a chair to sit down, his eyes met someone he knew well enough. Someone, who was a prisoner of somewhat same kind of fate; known to the outsiders as a guardian of the federal law- Officer Mike Derek.
“So Charles, tell me how have you been? Any problems?”. All that came from the other side was a smirk and the quietest possible “No”. Mike rang the bell for coffee. Neither of the two exchanged a singe intelligible word till the last sip of the warm brew, perhaps they both knew why they are here for- they surely knew. “Goodbye Charles, don’t forget to take some rest, you must be fatigued, we got a lot of work to do, busy days ahead of us…hoping to see you tomorrow morning- Mike placed a torn piece of paper on the table beside the bed and walked out.
Charles switched off the lights and lied down. As his glance swept past across the room and then outside the window, he saw the neon board which displayed “The School of Cyber Artillery” across the narrow byline on the other side; where he met Mike for the first time six years ago. Nothing has changed through all these years except the circumstances, the purpose and the resultant horrific misinterpretation of existence- to live and strive towards achieving a distorted and destructive objective- infuse terror and attain vengeance.
As thoughts spun down the memory lane, a kaleidoscope of colors, images, voices and events crossed his mind- Charles fell asleep.
At around 5 AM in the morning, the silence of the dark room was troubled by a noisy telephone ring. It rang thrice and stopped. Charles woke up, got dressed in one of his best business suits, climbed down the staircase, crossed the road and picked up the parcel which said, “Mr David, C/O “The School of Cyber Artillery”, 5th Main, 2nd Cross, . Washington DC. A familiar expression appeared on Charles’s face, the expression is always there whenever this man is too sure of himself. He walked up to a stationary shop round the corner of the road as the shopkeeper was pulling the shutter up for cleaning before the busy day starts. Charles purchased a few cables, cartridges, camera, a few blank DVDs and some metals. “Hi Charles, Howah, whassup? Haven’t seen you around for quite some time…How is Della? Where are you putting up? You are no more in that school I hope?. Yes, Charles was a poor student and he was subjected to such sarcasm earlier as well.
“No, I am putting up at California, am a restaurateur now” was the crisp short answer to those quiver full of questions. The shop-owner seemed quite content with that answer and didn’t bother to ask anymore questions. He smiled, shook hands and got back to his cleaning. Charles left- Never to meet him again.
Next day, the daily news paper reported the death of the shop owner. Reason cited- Bankruptcy and debt. Charles knew a different version of the story which is best untold. There was no Mr David in that school either to whom the parcel was addressed.
Charles retired to his one room apartment atop the bakery where the crowd has gathered for their morning cuppa of tea and muffins. He did not take the main entrance this time, but the spiral stairs in the backyard. He decided to catch up on the slumber, interrupted in between.
After completing their education in the “The School of Cyber Artillery”, he and Mike were colleagues at the Pentagon, working as cyber security administrators and IT infrastructure supervisors along with four others. This was about five years ago. A one-liner telegram cost him his career, his happy and fulfilled life, ruined him and brought him home, never to make him come back again.
The time has arrived to knock at the door of destiny, crafted by that telegram; which now brought him here amidst the peace and tranquility in a ruthless search of vengeance and catastrophe. A catastrophe that will make the world’s biggest nation fall to its knees. The pages of history would be written by an event that history itself would shiver to behold. Charles took out the laptop from the same parcel and switched it on…
Time 2:30am
Charles computer screen displayed an e-bomb manual- the same military grade weapon that a CIA-supported Internet watchdog, Search for International Terrorist Entities institute, raised an alarm on August 7 when it noticed the e- bomb manual circulating in jihadi fora supporting Pakistan, Iraq, Afghanistan and Chechnya movements.
As the hour-glass struck 3 am, some cracking sounds were heard at pentagon’s IT systems hall- almost unheard. Seconds’ later, all electronic systems went totally dysfunctional, the computers and even the main data source got completely erased- or so they thought
A few days ago a newspaper carried the story of terror organizations in Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iraq and Chechnya circulating popular jihadi Internet manuals to make Electromagenetic Pulse (EMP) bombs that can wipe out data from computers within minutes. A powerful radiation of electromagnetic waves generate as soon as an EMP, also known as an e-bomb, explodes while passing through any electronic gadget and it disables it. The cyber security officials raised an alarm as soon as they found out that this time the victim is them.
Charles entered a password- the third and the final try- The Falcon Core 2046! Confidential mission critical military information resources, ammunition reports, experimental trial documents of nuclear weapons and their sites, flowcharts, formulae , , technical documents, top secret de-coded defense equipments files, ammunition reports were remotely downloaded from the storage infrastructure and computer networks.
The cyber- surveillance team of pentagon did their job….emergency back-up on, anti- virus software activated, the shield put up, networks were shut down and disabled – The hacker traced – But it was too late…
3:30 am- Charles walks out of that shabby hotel room, leaves all doors open…after disabling all the laptop’s functional features, wraps it in the same package in which he had found it. Crosses the road to that same ammunition academy from where he had picked up the parcel from… puts it at the doorstep and walks off.
Carefully wrapping the hard-drive and the cds, he strode inside Suniville hotel, asked the man behind the counter- I want to stay here for the night, here is my id- The name it carried was – Dan Sullivan…I am expecting a friend of mine to come tomorrow morning at around 8, please send him upstairs. The man behind the counter replied- I am so sorry Mr Sullivan, actually your friend was here a while ago, he waited for quite some time and left, left a parcel for you- here it is and your keys sir…
The same smirk appeared again on Charles chiseled countenance- No problemo, thanks for your help, see you, bye…With those words, Charles went up the stairs to his hotel room. A uniformed man was waiting at the door- silently uttered ‘Mike’. Charles handed over the bag of cds and the hardrive to him and went inside. The parcel contained his flight tickets and the ‘friend’ and the man in the uniform was the same person, sent by Mike Derek.
Charles smiled.
4th July, Time 11:00 am
United States of America was in a pensive mood- The celebrations of Independence Day was muffled by the frantic news telecast over all national broadcast channels of the last night’s data theft and the explosions. The elite investigative departments sprung into action to trace the culprit and negate the losses. - Charles smiled and boarded his flight.
11:30 am- Suddenly, all electronic channel broadcast was interrupted- People thought it to be a security measure. Every household was wondering how grave the issue was- The screens go blank, comes back and what all of the multitudes of screens displayed now was more than just nightmarish to the millions of American citizen who woke of to a morning of celebrations and merrymaking.
Iraq, Afghanistan, China, India, Pakistan, Russia, Uzbekistan and channels of a few neighboring countries displayed the title “The Falcon Nemesis” with Pentagons’ logo in the background followed by - in complete graphic detail; all the confidential security vault guarded information that was robbed last night….
The nation watched with bewilderment- emergency announced- curfew launched- all broadcast stopped- FBI and CIA was tipped off- The President gets a phone call- “The Falcon Nemesis is here Sir- That beautiful reality show is being aired internationally Mr President. It is up on the Internet as well. I am sending you a copy of the CD for your comfort. Enjoy!”- a laugh…beep beep beep beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep….The deafening silence prevailed…
6 days later- A car bomb killed 10 army personnel and injured many others at one of the US Military contingent at Abu Dhabi.
20 days later, a passenger airplane- Airbus G 599 crashed and massacred the Navy headquarters at the Pentagon city.
The nemesis has begun…
An abysmal melancholic aura shrouded the distant vicinity. A crimson slash smeared the once enthralling horizon. The winds and the dunes blew the same dust of hopelessness asserting the beginning of a wretched end, the dark nimbus clouds have the same tale to tell. A ravaged country lay ahead- the rock laced mountains, the desert sands- dark crimson stains hued every object. The mirage reflected it, the pale morning sky casted it, the sands and the dunes spoke about it; and the only sound that echoed out of that hellish dungeon were those of cries, wails, sobs and a deafening silence. Yes, a silence shriller than the most heinous of cries and a silence that’s becoming more and more pervasive by the minute. Gods own children lay crouched and wounded everywhere, the pale moon shining on the clots and divinity chuckling over its own creation.
Amidst the crimson rush, a mirror reflected the emaciated frame of a man trying incessantly to answer the questions asked by a shaken fate. He closed his eyes to shun everything that encapsulated him but with a constant nagging fear that he has to open it again and behold things that he never wanted to. He knew exactly why all this has occurred, it was inevitable, yet avoidable coz as they say truth and life are somehow stranger than the strangest of fictions.
The time-clock traced it back to September 11, when the mightiest nation fell victim to the wrath of one man. History repeated itself like it always does but this time, it did so with a propelled magnitude. He consciously defied the judgment of destiny because he believed that the weeping deity is wandering in the maze created by his own creation. Revenge begets revenge- begets revenge.
The frail emaciated frame stepped out of its dilapidated shack and what followed next bedazzled humanity for all times and time itself stood testimony to the fact. The vicissitudes of fate is to weave a destiny that fate itself would shiver to behold.
Six hours ahead.
A muted telephone buzzed in the office of Mike Derek, a retired senior officer of the US CIA bureau, now running his own private detective agency. He chose not to answer the call, instead flipped on a pre-recorded voice message- “Hi Charles, I am out for an urgent meeting, will ring you back, your papers have been dispatched friend, lets catch up for a drink on Friday. Goodbye”. A childish grin lightened the countenance of the man on the other side of the phone because his name was not Charles and he got the cue which was precisely meant for him. He smiled
Chapter 2
Time: 17:00 hours
Place: Delhi International Airport, India
Day- Wednesday
A uniformed bespectacled man in his mid-forties was sweeping the floor adjacent to the arrival terminal entry gate of the airport. Charles walked right up to him and muttered- “I am so sorry to bother you, I think I had dropped my pen here a while back, have you by any chance managed to see it somewhere here? The man looked up at Charles and at the same time dropped a worn out pouch on the floor which he pretended to be seen as accidental. Charles got the message again, picked up the bag and strode inside. The bag had all those documents that Mike alerted him about; the stack of parchments that established Charles as a legitimate citizen of the United States of America and some hand drawn maps.
Time: 1800 hours
Place: New York City, United States of America
Day- Friday
It was summer- a wet mist brewed twilight and the sun racing to hide behind the crimson horizon in the vicinity, after the day long downpour. The airport was swarming with people- not as much unlikely for a busy nation.. He quietly walked past the aisle, traversed a few yards and waved at a Taxi. A polite voice confirmed- Washington DC? The driver gave an assured smile and zoomed past. Thirty minutes later, a few miles down the foreign streets, the rear view mirror of Charles’s Cab reflected the remaining traces and a clumsy void that once housed- no too long ago- the world’s tallest towers, a bustling business arena, one of the most populated site of New York City. As the man sitting at the rear-seat of the car struck a match to light a cigarette, within the bluish yellow flame he could see the same void stretch of land- sans boundaries as it seemed- but not the one that housed the twin towers, but that of his ravaged country, palate of sands and blood- which now housed innocent victims of some satanic catastrophe for which they were not responsible in any distant manner. His country- Afghanistan.
The Taxi screeched to a halt in front of St. Allen’s bakery at a shady crossroad of Washington DC. Charles got off the cab, tipped off the driver and walked inside. Smiling at the guests who gathered there for their supper he climbed up the stairway, knocked and entered Room No 42. As he closed the door behind him- “Welcome my guest” whispered a voice, distinctly different from the voice which once said- “Hi Charles, I am out for an urgent meeting, will ring you back, your papers have been dispatched friend, lets catch up for a drink on Friday. Goodbye”. As Charles pulled aside a chair to sit down, his eyes met someone he knew well enough. Someone, who was a prisoner of somewhat same kind of fate; known to the outsiders as a guardian of the federal law- Officer Mike Derek.
“So Charles, tell me how have you been? Any problems?”. All that came from the other side was a smirk and the quietest possible “No”. Mike rang the bell for coffee. Neither of the two exchanged a singe intelligible word till the last sip of the warm brew, perhaps they both knew why they are here for- they surely knew. “Goodbye Charles, don’t forget to take some rest, you must be fatigued, we got a lot of work to do, busy days ahead of us…hoping to see you tomorrow morning- Mike placed a torn piece of paper on the table beside the bed and walked out.
Charles switched off the lights and lied down. As his glance swept past across the room and then outside the window, he saw the neon board which displayed “The School of Cyber Artillery” across the narrow byline on the other side; where he met Mike for the first time six years ago. Nothing has changed through all these years except the circumstances, the purpose and the resultant horrific misinterpretation of existence- to live and strive towards achieving a distorted and destructive objective- infuse terror and attain vengeance.
As thoughts spun down the memory lane, a kaleidoscope of colors, images, voices and events crossed his mind- Charles fell asleep.
At around 5 AM in the morning, the silence of the dark room was troubled by a noisy telephone ring. It rang thrice and stopped. Charles woke up, got dressed in one of his best business suits, climbed down the staircase, crossed the road and picked up the parcel which said, “Mr David, C/O “The School of Cyber Artillery”, 5th Main, 2nd Cross, . Washington DC. A familiar expression appeared on Charles’s face, the expression is always there whenever this man is too sure of himself. He walked up to a stationary shop round the corner of the road as the shopkeeper was pulling the shutter up for cleaning before the busy day starts. Charles purchased a few cables, cartridges, camera, a few blank DVDs and some metals. “Hi Charles, Howah, whassup? Haven’t seen you around for quite some time…How is Della? Where are you putting up? You are no more in that school I hope?. Yes, Charles was a poor student and he was subjected to such sarcasm earlier as well.
“No, I am putting up at California, am a restaurateur now” was the crisp short answer to those quiver full of questions. The shop-owner seemed quite content with that answer and didn’t bother to ask anymore questions. He smiled, shook hands and got back to his cleaning. Charles left- Never to meet him again.
Next day, the daily news paper reported the death of the shop owner. Reason cited- Bankruptcy and debt. Charles knew a different version of the story which is best untold. There was no Mr David in that school either to whom the parcel was addressed.
Charles retired to his one room apartment atop the bakery where the crowd has gathered for their morning cuppa of tea and muffins. He did not take the main entrance this time, but the spiral stairs in the backyard. He decided to catch up on the slumber, interrupted in between.
After completing their education in the “The School of Cyber Artillery”, he and Mike were colleagues at the Pentagon, working as cyber security administrators and IT infrastructure supervisors along with four others. This was about five years ago. A one-liner telegram cost him his career, his happy and fulfilled life, ruined him and brought him home, never to make him come back again.
The time has arrived to knock at the door of destiny, crafted by that telegram; which now brought him here amidst the peace and tranquility in a ruthless search of vengeance and catastrophe. A catastrophe that will make the world’s biggest nation fall to its knees. The pages of history would be written by an event that history itself would shiver to behold. Charles took out the laptop from the same parcel and switched it on…
Time 2:30am
Charles computer screen displayed an e-bomb manual- the same military grade weapon that a CIA-supported Internet watchdog, Search for International Terrorist Entities institute, raised an alarm on August 7 when it noticed the e- bomb manual circulating in jihadi fora supporting Pakistan, Iraq, Afghanistan and Chechnya movements.
As the hour-glass struck 3 am, some cracking sounds were heard at pentagon’s IT systems hall- almost unheard. Seconds’ later, all electronic systems went totally dysfunctional, the computers and even the main data source got completely erased- or so they thought
A few days ago a newspaper carried the story of terror organizations in Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iraq and Chechnya circulating popular jihadi Internet manuals to make Electromagenetic Pulse (EMP) bombs that can wipe out data from computers within minutes. A powerful radiation of electromagnetic waves generate as soon as an EMP, also known as an e-bomb, explodes while passing through any electronic gadget and it disables it. The cyber security officials raised an alarm as soon as they found out that this time the victim is them.
Charles entered a password- the third and the final try- The Falcon Core 2046! Confidential mission critical military information resources, ammunition reports, experimental trial documents of nuclear weapons and their sites, flowcharts, formulae , , technical documents, top secret de-coded defense equipments files, ammunition reports were remotely downloaded from the storage infrastructure and computer networks.
The cyber- surveillance team of pentagon did their job….emergency back-up on, anti- virus software activated, the shield put up, networks were shut down and disabled – The hacker traced – But it was too late…
3:30 am- Charles walks out of that shabby hotel room, leaves all doors open…after disabling all the laptop’s functional features, wraps it in the same package in which he had found it. Crosses the road to that same ammunition academy from where he had picked up the parcel from… puts it at the doorstep and walks off.
Carefully wrapping the hard-drive and the cds, he strode inside Suniville hotel, asked the man behind the counter- I want to stay here for the night, here is my id- The name it carried was – Dan Sullivan…I am expecting a friend of mine to come tomorrow morning at around 8, please send him upstairs. The man behind the counter replied- I am so sorry Mr Sullivan, actually your friend was here a while ago, he waited for quite some time and left, left a parcel for you- here it is and your keys sir…
The same smirk appeared again on Charles chiseled countenance- No problemo, thanks for your help, see you, bye…With those words, Charles went up the stairs to his hotel room. A uniformed man was waiting at the door- silently uttered ‘Mike’. Charles handed over the bag of cds and the hardrive to him and went inside. The parcel contained his flight tickets and the ‘friend’ and the man in the uniform was the same person, sent by Mike Derek.
Charles smiled.
4th July, Time 11:00 am
United States of America was in a pensive mood- The celebrations of Independence Day was muffled by the frantic news telecast over all national broadcast channels of the last night’s data theft and the explosions. The elite investigative departments sprung into action to trace the culprit and negate the losses. - Charles smiled and boarded his flight.
11:30 am- Suddenly, all electronic channel broadcast was interrupted- People thought it to be a security measure. Every household was wondering how grave the issue was- The screens go blank, comes back and what all of the multitudes of screens displayed now was more than just nightmarish to the millions of American citizen who woke of to a morning of celebrations and merrymaking.
Iraq, Afghanistan, China, India, Pakistan, Russia, Uzbekistan and channels of a few neighboring countries displayed the title “The Falcon Nemesis” with Pentagons’ logo in the background followed by - in complete graphic detail; all the confidential security vault guarded information that was robbed last night….
The nation watched with bewilderment- emergency announced- curfew launched- all broadcast stopped- FBI and CIA was tipped off- The President gets a phone call- “The Falcon Nemesis is here Sir- That beautiful reality show is being aired internationally Mr President. It is up on the Internet as well. I am sending you a copy of the CD for your comfort. Enjoy!”- a laugh…beep beep beep beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep….The deafening silence prevailed…
6 days later- A car bomb killed 10 army personnel and injured many others at one of the US Military contingent at Abu Dhabi.
20 days later, a passenger airplane- Airbus G 599 crashed and massacred the Navy headquarters at the Pentagon city.
The nemesis has begun…
An abysmal melancholic aura shrouded the distant vicinity. A crimson slash smeared the once enthralling horizon. The winds and the dunes blew the same dust of hopelessness asserting the beginning of a wretched end, the dark nimbus clouds have the same tale to tell. A ravaged country lay ahead- the rock laced mountains, the desert sands- dark crimson stains hued every object. The mirage reflected it, the pale morning sky casted it, the sands and the dunes spoke about it; and the only sound that echoed out of that hellish dungeon were those of cries, wails, sobs and a deafening silence. Yes, a silence shriller than the most heinous of cries and a silence that’s becoming more and more pervasive by the minute. Gods own children lay crouched and wounded everywhere, the pale moon shining on the clots and divinity chuckling over its own creation.
Amidst the crimson rush, a mirror reflected the emaciated frame of a man trying incessantly to answer the questions asked by a shaken fate. He closed his eyes to shun everything that encapsulated him but with a constant nagging fear that he has to open it again and behold things that he never wanted to. He knew exactly why all this has occurred, it was inevitable, yet avoidable coz as they say truth and life are somehow stranger than the strangest of fictions.
The time-clock traced it back to September 11, when the mightiest nation fell victim to the wrath of one man. History repeated itself like it always does but this time, it did so with a propelled magnitude. He consciously defied the judgment of destiny because he believed that the weeping deity is wandering in the maze created by his own creation. Revenge begets revenge- begets revenge.
The frail emaciated frame stepped out of its dilapidated shack and what followed next bedazzled humanity for all times and time itself stood testimony to the fact. The vicissitudes of fate is to weave a destiny that fate itself would shiver to behold.
Six hours ahead.
A muted telephone buzzed in the office of Mike Derek, a retired senior officer of the US CIA bureau, now running his own private detective agency. He chose not to answer the call, instead flipped on a pre-recorded voice message- “Hi Charles, I am out for an urgent meeting, will ring you back, your papers have been dispatched friend, lets catch up for a drink on Friday. Goodbye”. A childish grin lightened the countenance of the man on the other side of the phone because his name was not Charles and he got the cue which was precisely meant for him. He smiled
Chapter 2
Time: 17:00 hours
Place: Delhi International Airport, India
Day- Wednesday
A uniformed bespectacled man in his mid-forties was sweeping the floor adjacent to the arrival terminal entry gate of the airport. Charles walked right up to him and muttered- “I am so sorry to bother you, I think I had dropped my pen here a while back, have you by any chance managed to see it somewhere here? The man looked up at Charles and at the same time dropped a worn out pouch on the floor which he pretended to be seen as accidental. Charles got the message again, picked up the bag and strode inside. The bag had all those documents that Mike alerted him about; the stack of parchments that established Charles as a legitimate citizen of the United States of America and some hand drawn maps.
Time: 1800 hours
Place: New York City, United States of America
Day- Friday
It was summer- a wet mist brewed twilight and the sun racing to hide behind the crimson horizon in the vicinity, after the day long downpour. The airport was swarming with people- not as much unlikely for a busy nation.. He quietly walked past the aisle, traversed a few yards and waved at a Taxi. A polite voice confirmed- Washington DC? The driver gave an assured smile and zoomed past. Thirty minutes later, a few miles down the foreign streets, the rear view mirror of Charles’s Cab reflected the remaining traces and a clumsy void that once housed- no too long ago- the world’s tallest towers, a bustling business arena, one of the most populated site of New York City. As the man sitting at the rear-seat of the car struck a match to light a cigarette, within the bluish yellow flame he could see the same void stretch of land- sans boundaries as it seemed- but not the one that housed the twin towers, but that of his ravaged country, palate of sands and blood- which now housed innocent victims of some satanic catastrophe for which they were not responsible in any distant manner. His country- Afghanistan.
The Taxi screeched to a halt in front of St. Allen’s bakery at a shady crossroad of Washington DC. Charles got off the cab, tipped off the driver and walked inside. Smiling at the guests who gathered there for their supper he climbed up the stairway, knocked and entered Room No 42. As he closed the door behind him- “Welcome my guest” whispered a voice, distinctly different from the voice which once said- “Hi Charles, I am out for an urgent meeting, will ring you back, your papers have been dispatched friend, lets catch up for a drink on Friday. Goodbye”. As Charles pulled aside a chair to sit down, his eyes met someone he knew well enough. Someone, who was a prisoner of somewhat same kind of fate; known to the outsiders as a guardian of the federal law- Officer Mike Derek.
“So Charles, tell me how have you been? Any problems?”. All that came from the other side was a smirk and the quietest possible “No”. Mike rang the bell for coffee. Neither of the two exchanged a singe intelligible word till the last sip of the warm brew, perhaps they both knew why they are here for- they surely knew. “Goodbye Charles, don’t forget to take some rest, you must be fatigued, we got a lot of work to do, busy days ahead of us…hoping to see you tomorrow morning- Mike placed a torn piece of paper on the table beside the bed and walked out.
Charles switched off the lights and lied down. As his glance swept past across the room and then outside the window, he saw the neon board which displayed “The School of Cyber Artillery” across the narrow byline on the other side; where he met Mike for the first time six years ago. Nothing has changed through all these years except the circumstances, the purpose and the resultant horrific misinterpretation of existence- to live and strive towards achieving a distorted and destructive objective- infuse terror and attain vengeance.
As thoughts spun down the memory lane, a kaleidoscope of colors, images, voices and events crossed his mind- Charles fell asleep.
At around 5 AM in the morning, the silence of the dark room was troubled by a noisy telephone ring. It rang thrice and stopped. Charles woke up, got dressed in one of his best business suits, climbed down the staircase, crossed the road and picked up the parcel which said, “Mr David, C/O “The School of Cyber Artillery”, 5th Main, 2nd Cross, . Washington DC. A familiar expression appeared on Charles’s face, the expression is always there whenever this man is too sure of himself. He walked up to a stationary shop round the corner of the road as the shopkeeper was pulling the shutter up for cleaning before the busy day starts. Charles purchased a few cables, cartridges, camera, a few blank DVDs and some metals. “Hi Charles, Howah, whassup? Haven’t seen you around for quite some time…How is Della? Where are you putting up? You are no more in that school I hope?. Yes, Charles was a poor student and he was subjected to such sarcasm earlier as well.
“No, I am putting up at California, am a restaurateur now” was the crisp short answer to those quiver full of questions. The shop-owner seemed quite content with that answer and didn’t bother to ask anymore questions. He smiled, shook hands and got back to his cleaning. Charles left- Never to meet him again.
Next day, the daily news paper reported the death of the shop owner. Reason cited- Bankruptcy and debt. Charles knew a different version of the story which is best untold. There was no Mr David in that school either to whom the parcel was addressed.
Charles retired to his one room apartment atop the bakery where the crowd has gathered for their morning cuppa of tea and muffins. He did not take the main entrance this time, but the spiral stairs in the backyard. He decided to catch up on the slumber, interrupted in between.
After completing their education in the “The School of Cyber Artillery”, he and Mike were colleagues at the Pentagon, working as cyber security administrators and IT infrastructure supervisors along with four others. This was about five years ago. A one-liner telegram cost him his career, his happy and fulfilled life, ruined him and brought him home, never to make him come back again.
The time has arrived to knock at the door of destiny, crafted by that telegram; which now brought him here amidst the peace and tranquility in a ruthless search of vengeance and catastrophe. A catastrophe that will make the world’s biggest nation fall to its knees. The pages of history would be written by an event that history itself would shiver to behold. Charles took out the laptop from the same parcel and switched it on…
Time 2:30am
Charles computer screen displayed an e-bomb manual- the same military grade weapon that a CIA-supported Internet watchdog, Search for International Terrorist Entities institute, raised an alarm on August 7 when it noticed the e- bomb manual circulating in jihadi fora supporting Pakistan, Iraq, Afghanistan and Chechnya movements.
As the hour-glass struck 3 am, some cracking sounds were heard at pentagon’s IT systems hall- almost unheard. Seconds’ later, all electronic systems went totally dysfunctional, the computers and even the main data source got completely erased- or so they thought
A few days ago a newspaper carried the story of terror organizations in Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iraq and Chechnya circulating popular jihadi Internet manuals to make Electromagenetic Pulse (EMP) bombs that can wipe out data from computers within minutes. A powerful radiation of electromagnetic waves generate as soon as an EMP, also known as an e-bomb, explodes while passing through any electronic gadget and it disables it. The cyber security officials raised an alarm as soon as they found out that this time the victim is them.
Charles entered a password- the third and the final try- The Falcon Core 2046! Confidential mission critical military information resources, ammunition reports, experimental trial documents of nuclear weapons and their sites, flowcharts, formulae , , technical documents, top secret de-coded defense equipments files, ammunition reports were remotely downloaded from the storage infrastructure and computer networks.
The cyber- surveillance team of pentagon did their job….emergency back-up on, anti- virus software activated, the shield put up, networks were shut down and disabled – The hacker traced – But it was too late…
3:30 am- Charles walks out of that shabby hotel room, leaves all doors open…after disabling all the laptop’s functional features, wraps it in the same package in which he had found it. Crosses the road to that same ammunition academy from where he had picked up the parcel from… puts it at the doorstep and walks off.
Carefully wrapping the hard-drive and the cds, he strode inside Suniville hotel, asked the man behind the counter- I want to stay here for the night, here is my id- The name it carried was – Dan Sullivan…I am expecting a friend of mine to come tomorrow morning at around 8, please send him upstairs. The man behind the counter replied- I am so sorry Mr Sullivan, actually your friend was here a while ago, he waited for quite some time and left, left a parcel for you- here it is and your keys sir…
The same smirk appeared again on Charles chiseled countenance- No problemo, thanks for your help, see you, bye…With those words, Charles went up the stairs to his hotel room. A uniformed man was waiting at the door- silently uttered ‘Mike’. Charles handed over the bag of cds and the hardrive to him and went inside. The parcel contained his flight tickets and the ‘friend’ and the man in the uniform was the same person, sent by Mike Derek.
Charles smiled.
4th July, Time 11:00 am
United States of America was in a pensive mood- The celebrations of Independence Day was muffled by the frantic news telecast over all national broadcast channels of the last night’s data theft and the explosions. The elite investigative departments sprung into action to trace the culprit and negate the losses. - Charles smiled and boarded his flight.
11:30 am- Suddenly, all electronic channel broadcast was interrupted- People thought it to be a security measure. Every household was wondering how grave the issue was- The screens go blank, comes back and what all of the multitudes of screens displayed now was more than just nightmarish to the millions of American citizen who woke of to a morning of celebrations and merrymaking.
Iraq, Afghanistan, China, India, Pakistan, Russia, Uzbekistan and channels of a few neighboring countries displayed the title “The Falcon Nemesis” with Pentagons’ logo in the background followed by - in complete graphic detail; all the confidential security vault guarded information that was robbed last night….
The nation watched with bewilderment- emergency announced- curfew launched- all broadcast stopped- FBI and CIA was tipped off- The President gets a phone call- “The Falcon Nemesis is here Sir- That beautiful reality show is being aired internationally Mr President. It is up on the Internet as well. I am sending you a copy of the CD for your comfort. Enjoy!”- a laugh…beep beep beep beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep….The deafening silence prevailed…
6 days later- A car bomb killed 10 army personnel and injured many others at one of the US Military contingent at Abu Dhabi.
20 days later, a passenger airplane- Airbus G 599 crashed and massacred the Navy headquarters at the Pentagon city.
The nemesis has begun…
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Someday
As my thoughts strayed beyond the labyrinth of nimbus clouds to an universe untraversed, they call- Big Bad World, I wondered how different our worlds have become as we tried to keep pace with the hands of the time clock. Memories kaleidoscoped to the days when happiness was all about tossing pebbles in the pond, climbing walls, running behind kites, watching the raindrops seep down the window panes. When fear was all about thunderstorms and lightning, dad’s scolding and kneeling down outside the classroom coz of not memorizing those thick books some fool wrote to bother us. Now feel like we are just sleepwalking through a life incomplete forever with limitless dreams and ambitions…always unsatisfied…where joys are unknown and fears endless, where hopes are dreams and reality misgiven. Blindfolded we are following the piper to lead us to some obscure glory some day….someday the dawn will dawn upon us…someday..
Monday, July 6, 2009
I am not addressing anyone in particular
Walking down the long serpentine deserted lane called life;
I saw your visage against my own shadows.
The more I stepped towards it, the more it faded away.
Once a horizon, now a mere shadow- Illusion just changed its identity.
The west winds whispered your name,
Every mirage reflected your essence.
As the moonlight and the wintry branches troubled the darkness with their own game of hide and seek,
As the silver ocean waves carried your voice to me,
As the dark clouds began to look darkness in the eye,
A figment of thought told me- maybe she will never realize that my tears have formed rains in the sky.
I walked on listening to the muffled sound of my own footsteps with my shattered shadow as the only companion walking beside me
The rain and the tears blurred my sight as an obscure happiness awaited me…
Somewhere far away, somewhere- unknown!
I saw your visage against my own shadows.
The more I stepped towards it, the more it faded away.
Once a horizon, now a mere shadow- Illusion just changed its identity.
The west winds whispered your name,
Every mirage reflected your essence.
As the moonlight and the wintry branches troubled the darkness with their own game of hide and seek,
As the silver ocean waves carried your voice to me,
As the dark clouds began to look darkness in the eye,
A figment of thought told me- maybe she will never realize that my tears have formed rains in the sky.
I walked on listening to the muffled sound of my own footsteps with my shattered shadow as the only companion walking beside me
The rain and the tears blurred my sight as an obscure happiness awaited me…
Somewhere far away, somewhere- unknown!
Thursday, July 2, 2009
What PR agency people do?
Yesterday one of my friends asked me what PR agency people exactly do.
I have been asked this question so many times and by so many people from all walks of life (Not from PR obviously) that I really get sort of pissed answering this question in layman’s term. Most of the times, the conclusion drawn by the other person, turns out to be “ Puri Ramayan sunke poochta hai Sita kiska baap tha?) J
So I tried to give him a simplistic description of what I used to do and what many people in the profession do when they start their career in PR or Public Relations.
Take Away: PR is a divine profession. You are the only ‘human’ among Gods.:-)
PR agency has clients, which can be organizations, individuals or Govt. etc.
To start a career in a PR agency, you got to have that light on your eyes, fire in your bellies, a grand dream inside that skull and heights of patience- Imagine a one-handed man hanging from a cliff on the support of that one hand and still smiling away till glory kingdom comes - Thats the kinda patience I meant. And, talent ofcourse- mostly shrewdness and people skills, ahhhh..that misquoted communication skills.
The Work:
The agency goes and presents to the client what all they can do to give that client visibility in the media and as a corollary bolster its image to its relevant target audience.
Then, the money talk and clients fasten their belts and comes to tangible stuff- “We need 100 great stories in a month and in these publications”, as if the poor agency guy’s father in law owns all publicationsJ. We will pay you XX on retainer basis.
The man returns and briefs his agency what the client expectations are- Now, wait- the client is God (in literal terms)- you cant challenge him, you are subject to his mercy if you manage to goof up somewhere, he can me nasty and unfair with you but you cant, you have to obey and obey orders. Coz he is the reason, you can eat, drink, sleep, marry, have children and grandchildren, if you manage to live that longer doing a PR job for so many years of your life- Its killing you see!:-)
Now, how to we get stories for our clients
To add a nice name to an often filthy job- we call it: MEDIA RELATIONS
Alternate 1) You call up a jurno to publish some shit you have written for your company and flirt if that person is of the opposite sex. You can also threaten and bribe him, depending on who the jurno is and how reputed the publication is (most jurnos of the print media are poor and hungry people, so not a problemJ)
Alternative 2) you are an ethical & intelligent person, you write a brilliant story. Either you study, do a lot of research and find out some enlightening stuff about your client that none of its immediate competitors possesses or you just ‘manufacture’ something out of nothing…I mean you relate a SPADE TO –WHAT EXTENT AGRICULTURE IS CONTRIBUTING TO INDIA’S PHENOMENAL GDP GROWTH- Just because farmers use SPADES!:-)
You also go for “MEDIA ROUNDS’ if you are blessed with either great looks or Gift of the Gab, where you can convince people in a clique
If you want to play things safe- make friends. You call up that jurno often, first to discuss the industry, then you develop a rapport cribbing about each others job, then you catch up for a drink and present yourself as some very intelligent guy who just managed to fall into the trap of this strange profession somehow, while wandering here and there thinking of what to do after the graduation day.:-)
You get a third party to recommend the points you talked about in your story- That brings more credibility, you see
So, now your story is published where you exactly wanted. Your client sends an appreciation mail- you happy, your boss happy and people around you - happy or jealous of you. See, jurno is God too, you don’t respect him/her more than wat they actually deserve, they wont file your story.- Your Job is gone.:-)
Yes, you do use tools like- writing press releases, ghost-writing for the MD of the company who is always busy fooling people and making big money, writing press notes, organizing press conferences feeding the famine stricken poor and hungry people, I mentioned earlier.
The story doesn’t end here, Client’s expectation increases- he finds his bait- he wants more stories, better stories, in better publications, and also wants you to figure out more and more opportunities where you can exhibit him to a larger audience through a big industry event may be; build his unmatched image and so on. – Your work INCREASES, pay may not.
The hard part- Now you try to justify to the client through a baffling multitude of reporting formats what kind of torture you go through everyday for delivering those beautifully cursed stories. The client seems never satisfied- Human nature you see~!
I have been asked this question so many times and by so many people from all walks of life (Not from PR obviously) that I really get sort of pissed answering this question in layman’s term. Most of the times, the conclusion drawn by the other person, turns out to be “ Puri Ramayan sunke poochta hai Sita kiska baap tha?) J
So I tried to give him a simplistic description of what I used to do and what many people in the profession do when they start their career in PR or Public Relations.
Take Away: PR is a divine profession. You are the only ‘human’ among Gods.:-)
PR agency has clients, which can be organizations, individuals or Govt. etc.
To start a career in a PR agency, you got to have that light on your eyes, fire in your bellies, a grand dream inside that skull and heights of patience- Imagine a one-handed man hanging from a cliff on the support of that one hand and still smiling away till glory kingdom comes - Thats the kinda patience I meant. And, talent ofcourse- mostly shrewdness and people skills, ahhhh..that misquoted communication skills.
The Work:
The agency goes and presents to the client what all they can do to give that client visibility in the media and as a corollary bolster its image to its relevant target audience.
Then, the money talk and clients fasten their belts and comes to tangible stuff- “We need 100 great stories in a month and in these publications”, as if the poor agency guy’s father in law owns all publicationsJ. We will pay you XX on retainer basis.
The man returns and briefs his agency what the client expectations are- Now, wait- the client is God (in literal terms)- you cant challenge him, you are subject to his mercy if you manage to goof up somewhere, he can me nasty and unfair with you but you cant, you have to obey and obey orders. Coz he is the reason, you can eat, drink, sleep, marry, have children and grandchildren, if you manage to live that longer doing a PR job for so many years of your life- Its killing you see!:-)
Now, how to we get stories for our clients
To add a nice name to an often filthy job- we call it: MEDIA RELATIONS
Alternate 1) You call up a jurno to publish some shit you have written for your company and flirt if that person is of the opposite sex. You can also threaten and bribe him, depending on who the jurno is and how reputed the publication is (most jurnos of the print media are poor and hungry people, so not a problemJ)
Alternative 2) you are an ethical & intelligent person, you write a brilliant story. Either you study, do a lot of research and find out some enlightening stuff about your client that none of its immediate competitors possesses or you just ‘manufacture’ something out of nothing…I mean you relate a SPADE TO –WHAT EXTENT AGRICULTURE IS CONTRIBUTING TO INDIA’S PHENOMENAL GDP GROWTH- Just because farmers use SPADES!:-)
You also go for “MEDIA ROUNDS’ if you are blessed with either great looks or Gift of the Gab, where you can convince people in a clique
If you want to play things safe- make friends. You call up that jurno often, first to discuss the industry, then you develop a rapport cribbing about each others job, then you catch up for a drink and present yourself as some very intelligent guy who just managed to fall into the trap of this strange profession somehow, while wandering here and there thinking of what to do after the graduation day.:-)
You get a third party to recommend the points you talked about in your story- That brings more credibility, you see
So, now your story is published where you exactly wanted. Your client sends an appreciation mail- you happy, your boss happy and people around you - happy or jealous of you. See, jurno is God too, you don’t respect him/her more than wat they actually deserve, they wont file your story.- Your Job is gone.:-)
Yes, you do use tools like- writing press releases, ghost-writing for the MD of the company who is always busy fooling people and making big money, writing press notes, organizing press conferences feeding the famine stricken poor and hungry people, I mentioned earlier.
The story doesn’t end here, Client’s expectation increases- he finds his bait- he wants more stories, better stories, in better publications, and also wants you to figure out more and more opportunities where you can exhibit him to a larger audience through a big industry event may be; build his unmatched image and so on. – Your work INCREASES, pay may not.
The hard part- Now you try to justify to the client through a baffling multitude of reporting formats what kind of torture you go through everyday for delivering those beautifully cursed stories. The client seems never satisfied- Human nature you see~!
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Unanswered Questions in PR
Confessions of an overworked mind
A perfect read for a gloomy ‘work-cannon’ loaded Monday
After about two and a half years of my stint in the boxing arena called ‘public relations’, I am faced with these inexplicably intriguing questions. Yes I agree that, to most of us, the questions may seem unintelligent but as the wise man say- Questions are never stupid, answers are. There can be countless justifications negating the validity of my question’s intelligence quotient, but I won’t ask you to relax and then think about the answers coz in that state, most likely your answers can only label my questions as ‘stupid to the stupidest of extent’.:-)
So, here I make a humble request to all of you. Try and answer my questions on a typical PARANOID day at work when all the devils of the world and beyond contaminate the souls of our revered journalists, corp com people and other stakeholders.:-)
Here are some of my questions (there are many more)J:
· Why does that particular abandoned lonely soul in corp comm needs an SMS update early in the morning, inside his washroom post a press conference/interview/trade briefing a day earlier and why they can’t get out of their washrooms till the scans hit their inbox- I guess the they fear that the coverage would evaporate in thin air if they are late in brooding over it…(Or their email inboxes are perpetually in the self-destruct mode?)
· Why do we send the ‘same’ clip to the client in a wide spectrum of multiple diametrically diverse formats that technology has ever managed to bless us with. – SCANS, PDF, PPT, EXCEL, ZIP, MONTHBOOKS, WEEKLY REPORTS, CDS, DVDS, TRANSCRIPTS, Calculating their AD rates, etc etc- Cant they not decipher things in the first go…?
· Why do the that impatient corp com soul behave as if they will lose their jobs, their stocks would crash and their employers will be on the streets begging if a particular coverage that appeared 5 years ago is not mailed to them within a 5 mins timeframe?
· Why do they spin protracted yards and wax eloquent about going ‘Green’ and similar policies and enclose this line in their mail - “Please don't print this e-mail unless you really need to. “ if on the other hand, they want coverage on every piece of paper in the planet?
· Why do they endow us with incredibly inhuman deadlines and act as if the universe will fall apart if we don’t meet the same. Finally, when we do manage to kill ourselves to meet that cursed deadline, they forget about it and send a stinker at the end of the day for committing a gruesome crime- Why didn’t we remind them on time?:-)
· Had another crazy client who is as much shy to a media as a newly married Indian bride is to her in-laws- Still they want coverage in all the existing media?
· Why do the Presidents and VPs of the world suddenly wake up one fine afternoon and starts hallucinating and contemplating about their worth in this life and pester their PR agencies to send them all the best coverage that they were lucky to receive over the past 8 years within 60 mins. Are they so in secured? Or, do they think we are Gods to meet such a divine deadline
If it is all about positioning our work to the client as some Pro-client PR professional will like to argue then I would like to put it- Don’t we anyway do a lot of other work as an agency to prove to the client our expertise and efficiency.
A perfect read for a gloomy ‘work-cannon’ loaded Monday
After about two and a half years of my stint in the boxing arena called ‘public relations’, I am faced with these inexplicably intriguing questions. Yes I agree that, to most of us, the questions may seem unintelligent but as the wise man say- Questions are never stupid, answers are. There can be countless justifications negating the validity of my question’s intelligence quotient, but I won’t ask you to relax and then think about the answers coz in that state, most likely your answers can only label my questions as ‘stupid to the stupidest of extent’.:-)
So, here I make a humble request to all of you. Try and answer my questions on a typical PARANOID day at work when all the devils of the world and beyond contaminate the souls of our revered journalists, corp com people and other stakeholders.:-)
Here are some of my questions (there are many more)J:
· Why does that particular abandoned lonely soul in corp comm needs an SMS update early in the morning, inside his washroom post a press conference/interview/trade briefing a day earlier and why they can’t get out of their washrooms till the scans hit their inbox- I guess the they fear that the coverage would evaporate in thin air if they are late in brooding over it…(Or their email inboxes are perpetually in the self-destruct mode?)
· Why do we send the ‘same’ clip to the client in a wide spectrum of multiple diametrically diverse formats that technology has ever managed to bless us with. – SCANS, PDF, PPT, EXCEL, ZIP, MONTHBOOKS, WEEKLY REPORTS, CDS, DVDS, TRANSCRIPTS, Calculating their AD rates, etc etc- Cant they not decipher things in the first go…?
· Why do the that impatient corp com soul behave as if they will lose their jobs, their stocks would crash and their employers will be on the streets begging if a particular coverage that appeared 5 years ago is not mailed to them within a 5 mins timeframe?
· Why do they spin protracted yards and wax eloquent about going ‘Green’ and similar policies and enclose this line in their mail - “Please don't print this e-mail unless you really need to. “ if on the other hand, they want coverage on every piece of paper in the planet?
· Why do they endow us with incredibly inhuman deadlines and act as if the universe will fall apart if we don’t meet the same. Finally, when we do manage to kill ourselves to meet that cursed deadline, they forget about it and send a stinker at the end of the day for committing a gruesome crime- Why didn’t we remind them on time?:-)
· Had another crazy client who is as much shy to a media as a newly married Indian bride is to her in-laws- Still they want coverage in all the existing media?
· Why do the Presidents and VPs of the world suddenly wake up one fine afternoon and starts hallucinating and contemplating about their worth in this life and pester their PR agencies to send them all the best coverage that they were lucky to receive over the past 8 years within 60 mins. Are they so in secured? Or, do they think we are Gods to meet such a divine deadline
If it is all about positioning our work to the client as some Pro-client PR professional will like to argue then I would like to put it- Don’t we anyway do a lot of other work as an agency to prove to the client our expertise and efficiency.
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