Current Affairs

How to make a simple bomb and blast it

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If you know a pretty girl, you have already got yourself a bomb. Those of us who aren’t blessed with a pretty gal (believe me, some of us aren’t and that is why we go after 72 virgins after death) will have to make our own bomb.

Making a bomb is easy. You can make it using household items – the ingredients will depend on how you want your bomb to be. A remote controlled bomb? A small bomb? A Big bomb? What will it be? OK, why am I jumping the gun here…read on.

Five steps to making a powerful bomb

STEP 1: Deciding to make a bomb
STEP 2: Deciding the target to blow up
STEP 3: Getting raw materials to make bomb
STEP 4: Transporting bomb to the blast location (not required if you own a launch system)
STEP 5: Triggering the bomb blast

Let us take them on one by one.

Deciding to make a bomb

Before we start, let me tell you that bomb making is no child’s play. So, take a deep breath and think: was your father not given a Government job? Did your mother not get her vaccination on time? Did you lose your job at the college? Did the class bully insult you in front of the whole class? Is somebody parking their car in your parking slot? Did you get asylum in a European country ten years back and still haven’t been able to come to terms with the change? Are you the bad guy in a James Bond movie? Or do you think your religion better than your neighbours?

If your answer to any of these questions was ‘Yes’ you have the right to make a bomb, and blast the offenders off the face of the Earth. After all, they didn’t care about you.

Now that cause and consequence have been decided, lets move on to deciding the target for your blast.

Deciding the target to blow up

Deciding the target is a key element in bomb making, for it decides how big a bomb you should be building. US President Donald Trump’s needs are ‘yuge’ and that’s why he builds bombs that can wipe out whole countries. The question to ask yourself while building a bomb is: Do I want to wipe out a whole country, a province, a city, a university campus, somebody’s house or an individual?

Remember, if you are a suicide bomber you still need a target. You can be the epicenter of the bomb blast but you definitely need a target. If you are a suicide bomber I would also strongly urge you to not indulge in dress rehearsals.

Once you have decided the target for your bomb, you will have a fair idea of how big or effective a bomb you will need to make. Let us move on to getting the raw materials to make the bomb.

Getting raw materials to build bomb

Remember there are four parts to a bomb – Ignition coil, the blast material, the ‘injurers’ and the casing in which all of this will be fitted. I will explain what ‘injurers’ are a little later. For now let us try and procure the casing first – from personal experience I can tell you that pumpkins & watermelons don’t act as good casings because they tend to be damp and neutralize the blast material. An empty Horlicks bottle also doesn’t appear to be a good casing choice because the blast material is then visible to everybody. Similarly, a CPU or an empty shoebox doesn’t qualify as good casing choice. I would strongly recommend a wodden box like the one used successfully by Ted Kaczynski for 18 long years. Wondering who Ted Kaczynski was – well, remember UnaBomber?. If you want to play your own secret joke, get your casing made by a coffin maker.

Now for the blast material – first advice, if your Indian friend says they can give you gun powder, don’t go for it. That is not real gun powder – it is just some chilli powder Indians use to eat their idlis and dosas with and it will be useless in this bomb making exercise of yours which is bound to show the world how cool you are. However, if your Indian friend lives near the Red Corridor, I would recommend you speak to them about bombs. Even if they don’t know themselves they will be able to guide you to the neighborhood friendly naxalite they know.

Blast material can also be obtained from the scrap dealers in your city. The idea is to identify the scrap dealer buying scrap from leading science laboratories, who might have inadvertently bought Uranium-235, Plutonium-239 or other blast materials like nitroglycerine or grain dust from the labs.

If you are on first name basis with leading lights of your country – mafia lords, corrupt politicians, defence dealers etc – they might also source it for you. If you can convince them that you are targeting a city and not just a university campus, they might even provide you the whole bomb.

Now that you have got your blast material, you need to work on the ignition of this blast material.

Mind you igniting a bomb makes all the difference. You could have a bomb, you could have placed it at the right spot but if you can’t ignite it it is as useful as a lipstick on a man’s lips (unless your partner, who also happens to be a man, is coming home early).

Ignition of a bomb can be done in two ways – you can light a fuse and wait for it to reach the bomb (as some many 70s heros have done in Hollywood and Bollywood movies) or you could remote detonate it. I always use my mobile to remote detonate my bombs – it allows me time to move to a safe place, and also helps me record the date and time of the bomb blasts I have made. Whenever someone asks me, ‘So, how many bombs have you blasted till date?” I only have to go to the call register on my mobile and count. I strongly recommend getting a mobile phone to ignite your bombs from a safe distance. What is a smart phone if it can’t help blast a bomb?

Now that you have a bomb casing in place, you have the blast material and you also have ignition methodology you need in place the last ingredient for your bomb: The Injurers.
“Injurers” are items that bomb makers put inside their bombs to injure the victims beyond repair. If you are the psycho type and prefer to hurt your victims mentally – you can write insults in pieces of paper so that after a victim is injured and is lying on the bomb blast site waiting for the ambulance he/she can pick up & read your insults. If you aren’t a psycho bomber but are clear minded about your approach, you might want to put in items like ball bearings, drawing pins, and other sharp objects to extend the effectiveness of your bomb. The more the ‘injurers’ the more quality footage the TV crews will get when they arrive at the scene, so for the TV crews sake always include ‘injurers’ in your bomb.

Transporting bomb to the blast location

If you are Donald Trump or Kim Jong-un and are reading this, you can skip this section because you already own extensive launch systems to launch your bombs. All others may continue reading. Transporting a bomb to the blast location can be tricky. But don’t panic yet in the bomb making industry it is the really big guys who have to worry about transportation. If your blast site is a desert and your bomb is nuclear you need to have a plan in place to hoodwink the US satellites, else you can chill.

You can use a cheap looking bag to transport your bomb (don’t get a costly Nike or Adidas bag for they are known to be stolen quickly from the spot and taken away from the intended target). To avoid cases where by the time you reach the blast site, the bomb explodes ensure you have a spare bomb in the bag as well.

Make sure to travel by public transport – the more crowded it is, the better. Bombs transported by private transport can be dangerous especially if you had a lot of beans the previous day and are releasing a lot of nitrogen, carbon dioxide and hydrogen in the name of farting.

Triggering the bomb blast

Once you transport the bomb to the blast site, the trick is to trigger the blast without you being a part of the blast. Obviously, if you are a suicide bomber you can skip reading this and go and trigger the bomb using a box of matches. If you aren’t a suicide bomber, I would guess you already have your mobile phone using which you can call a receiver packed inside the bomb casing & trigger the blast.

I would recommend an iPhone for blasting your bomb. Very good call quality and excellent touch screen for that stylish finish.

*Just in case you didn’t realize, I was being sarcastic. Please don’t make a bomb, at home, in college or at office. Whatever you believe in, a bomb is never the solution.

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Current Affairs

Color clashes in school – dress rehearsal for communal clashes later

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Warning: This is not a funny article. It is more of the thinking types.

A few hours back, I received a call from a relative of mine, whose son studies in a top-school, here in Chennai. She said, her son had got injured in what she described as ‘color clashes`.

She didn`t have the time to explain ‘color clashes` on phone. And anyways, I had to visit her son at the hospital so I let it go. In the hospital, I saw this boy of 10 years bandaged from head to toe. There were other children also in the room – boys and girls – all grievously injured.

Here is the story I squeezed out of the bandaged boy using my journalistic skills. I have tried to use the boy`s words as much as possible.

* * * * * * * * *

To bring a healthy competition among the students of the school, a few years back our Principal had divided the school into four houses – Red, Green, Yellow and Blue. Everything went on well. For years we fought our battles in the playgrounds or the auditorium.

Everything was fair and square until we were exposed to all these communal clashes. Somebody said Mohammed`s cartoons were in bad taste, somebody said Durga shouldn`t have been depicted on liquor bottles. Somebody was offering a bounty on the Danish Cartoonist`s head while somebody lynching men transporting cows. We kids found your mature games interesting and decided to have our own version of the game.

Thus, the school pupil leader called a meeting of all class representatives and announced the plan. None of the four house members were to respect the others. Whenever you saw somebody belonging to the other house, you had to call names and tease till he/she cried and ran away.

Overtime, students came up with insulting phrases for each house. Reds were insulted when somebody walked up to them and said: “Red, Red…susu in the bed.” The Green house members hated it when the others walked up to them and said: “Green Green, marry the Queen.” The Yellow house members didn`t like being addressed as: “Yellow, yellow, dirty fellow.” The Blue house in turn had extreme disdain for those who teased them with this one liner: “Blue Blue, you have no clue.”

Many a times, there were voices from within the fighting houses to bring an end to all these clashes but nobody heeded. We kept on fighting till we stopped studying and attended school only to clash with those who didn`t belong to our group.

* * * * * * * * *
The boy had finished his narrative. Now he was looking at the ceiling. I broke the monotony: “So, when is all this going to stop?”

“The day the other houses don`t call us names or tease us” he replied.

“But somebody has to take the first step? No?” I snapped.

The boy thought for a while and said, “I agree. But we don`t want to be the first. It won’t look good on our group.”

“What do you mean?” I prodded him because I didn’t understand what he was saying.

“If we are the first to give up, everybody will think we got scared,” the boy smiled as he said. His jaw must have hurt because he grimaced in pain even as his lips parted to show his teeth.

I got up from his hospital bed, on which I was sitting and asked him: “Why do you get into all these color clashes?”

“The same reason the elders get into communal clashes,” he replied. So saying, he turned his head away from me and closed his eyes. I didn`t have the heart to probe him further.

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Current Affairs

Open Letter to Modi Ji, from a short man

Dear Modi ji, 

It all started with a smile. The smile of a woman. A pretty woman. 

Fair to say, it started dangerously. 

After all, the only thing more dangerous than a smiling woman is another smiling woman. 

It was a ‘red eye’ flight to Madurai. We were leaving Delhi’s polluted air behind and going to pollute the air of Madurai. 

Diwali, you see.

My wife and kids were sitting in one row, while I was in the next. 

A tall, handsome man sat to my right, and I had decided not to initiate a conversation with him. 

I usually prefer conversing with strangers I look down upon – this tactic makes me a confident conversationalist. 

Since this guy was tall, I was looking up to him. 

Getting back to the smile – it was that of a pretty air hostess walking towards me. 

As she walked towards me, she seemed innocent. The harmful influence of a boyfriend hadn’t yet corrupted her. 

I tried to fill the small airline seat, and look formidable, but she saw through my plan. 

She turned towards the tall, handsome man sitting next to me and asked, “Sir, would you mind sitting next to the emergency door?” 

I saw her innocence fly out through the closed airplane windows. “What a vamp!” I remember muttering under my breath. 

“Of course, darling!” He replied. He then held her hand and walked towards the emergency door. 

Dear Modi ji, I may be imagining the word ‘darling’ and the fact that they held hands as she walked him to the seat next to the emergency door, but you must know that I am the victim here. 

Being only 165 cms (5 feet 4 inch) tall, I have been a victim all my life. 

Indian women prefer ‘tall, dark, and handsome’ men, and all my life, I have been scoring 33.33% – for I only cross one of the above three requirements. 

At 44 years, I am now done being a victim. 

I want to be the man that I never thought I could be till I saw you at the end of the proverbial tunnel – as my only ray of hope. 

This open letter is directed towards you for two reasons – 

  1. I know that UNESCO has selected you as the best Prime Minister in the World, and I always go for the best that’s available
  2. Some of my friends are your ardent fans, and they tell me that you are the answer to all of the World’s problems

Dear Modi Ji, now that I have your attention, let me explain my life’s problems in a little more detail. 

When the air hostess didn’t invite me to sit at the seat next to the Emergency door, she was only playing out the script written for me from the beginning.

It had all started when I joined a school where I had to be the first in the assembly line.

My school days started with 20 minutes of the nerve-wracking assembly session, where the Principal stared down my throat and saw what I had had for breakfast.

Unlike you, exposure hasn’t been my forte. I don’t flourish under watchful eyes. 

My pride took a running plunge from the bridge on Vaigai river the day I figured that I would never be able to sit on my BSA SLR cycle and keep my feet on the ground. 

When in college, while traveling by Pallavan Transport Corporation’s public buses, I had to hold the chrome-finished poles instead of grips hanging from the top. 

The worst part was when a child sharing the pole with me would look up and give me a smirk. I almost always heard them say, “I am definitely going to be taller than that!”

This awareness about my body’s limitations would later force me to buy a Yamaha RX100 when all I ever wanted in my life was a Royal Enfield. 

Nothing changed when I bought a car. I had to slide the driver’s seat as close to the steering wheel as possible, and even then, I had trouble reaching for the pedals. 

Even with a car, it was difficult to land girlfriends. 

Even though at 165 cms (5 feet 4 inches), I am as tall as an average Indian, I haven’t been able to live the life of a tall Indian. 

Height chart of the men from all over world
Average height of men from all over the World. Image:

I want to understand from you how, despite having a 50-inch chest, you have been living the life of a man with a 56-inch chest?

Yours sincerely,
– A 165 cms short gentleman who wants to lead the life of a 180 cms tall dude

Current Affairs

Weird ideas for software engineers who develop smartphone apps

There was a time when an application meant a form one filled and submitted in a bank, post office or any other office just few hours before the deadline.

Gone are the good old days when an application meant a means of siphoning off money from one’s parents legally. “Mom, I have to submit an application for All India Pre-Medical Pre-Dental exam tomorrow. The application costs Rs 500.”

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She would give the money and follow it up with an extra Rs 50, for you to have lunch in case you got late standing in the line to submit the application form. Not anymore.

“Have you tried that app yet?” I was asked.

“App? Whats that?”

“So, you don’t know apps? What phone do you use?”

“I use an Android phone.”

“Jammy, you use an Android phone and haven’t tried a single app? That’s criminal. What would the father of smartphones – Steve Jobs – say if he knew?

I didn’t want to break his heart by pointing out to the Apple fanboys who didn’t even have Internet on their iPhones.

“What is an app? And who is Steve Jobs?” I continued the charade.

“Well, an app is an application. I can’t explain. Try it yourself.” He said and left in a huff.

That’s when I went about trying Smartphone apps (or applications, however you call them). There are some really weird apps out there.

Here are a some apps I didn’t find in the play store. If I were a app engineer I would definitely code these Android apps.

Piss Me App

This app will be targeted at youth who want to play pranks on their friends. Once downloaded, the smartphone user will have to carefully pee into the small socket in the phone where we insert the charger and save up enough piss inside. Once the target (read friend) is near, the smartphone user has to open the app, and just press a button called ‘Eject’. The moment this is done, the piss stored in the phone will sprinkle out of the socket meant to insert the headphones. Care should be taken to NOT point the socket for headphones at yourself while pressing the “Eject” button. This app also acts as a emergency toilet. When one can’t find a nice, clean toilet (women have this problem a lot) one can open the app, pee into the phone and store it till you reach a nice, clean toilet. Once inside, you can eject it into the toilet bowl. Bingo!

Am I married app?

This is an app that men who are confused whether they are married or not will use. Once installed, this app will run in the background – be it an iPhone, Android phone or any other platform. This app works acts as an active listener and whenever it catches high-pitched voice at high decibels nearby, the siren goes off. While the siren blares its heart out the phone’s screen flashes ‘Careful, you are married!” If the app spots high-pitched voice in soft decibels nearby, it the message reads “I don’t like the sound of this woman. Don’t marry her.” And if it spots heavy breathing by a woman nearby, it displays this message: “Oops! You had sex with her? Bad Dog!”

Showoff Travel App

Once you download and install this app, you will have to connect your Facebook, Twitter and any other Social networking accounts. Based on the travels of your friends in your social network, this app will automatically respond with your own travel itinerary. Don’t worry you don’t actually have to travel, this app will do everything for you. You may be in your office working the shit off your face but this app will automatically update “Just booked my flight tickets for Pattaya.” After a few days it will follow up with “Pattaya, I am coming”. On Friday in the evening, it would send an update: “Just landed in Pattaya.” And over the weekend it will upload photos in your Facebook & Twitter profiles – photos that will look natural and would have been picked up from Google’s image search for Pattaya. Since you won’t be in the pictures this app will also leave a description saying ‘Damn! People in Pattaya don’t like taking pictures for others”.

Vacuum Cleaner App

How many times have you looked at your laptop or desktop and wondered “If only I had a small vacuum cleaner, I would suck all the dirt out of the keyboard”? Well, your wait is almost over for this app does exactly that. Once installed on your handset, all you have to do is open the app and tap a button called ‘Start’ after which the phone starts sucking in the dirt. Remember to point the charging socket towards the dirt for you don’t want your nose hair to get sucked din. The app goes one level further and has introduced the “Wife Mode” which when switched on says all things that a wife says while vacuuming. Stuff like: “Can you stop watching TV and help me reach this cobweb?” or “Here, move this sofa around…will you?” or “if only I had married that guy my mother had found, I am sure he would have helped me during vacuuming.

The Aladdin App

For long, financial experts have been saying that the World Economy has been heading for recession, but nobody believed them. Until, one of the recent surveys suggested that the World Economy is so bad that women have started marrying for love, again. This Aladdin app taps just this need of the women to marry for money. This app helps you pretend to be rich. Very rich. Once installed, this app acts like your genie. It wouldn’t do anything but talk. It would talk in such a way that the girl you are with thinks that like Aladdin, you also have within your control a genie who can give you money, palaces, food, clothes, lipsticks, shoes etc. All you have to do is activate it before walking towards the girl and the app does the rest. If you tell the girl: “Hey, come lets visit a restaurant” the app will butt in and say “My Master, why do you have to go to the restaurant? If you want I will get it here.” That’s when like that true boy who wants to live off his own earnings you will look into your phone and whisper: “No genie, I want to buy my girl lunch from my own earning.”

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This whisper needs to be low enough to sound genuine and loud enough for the girlfriend to hear. After saying this to your genie (or app), remember to cover your mobile with your hands, and then whisper to your girlfriend: “Don’t tell anybody, but I have a genie trapped inside my mobile.”

Do you have any app ideas? If yes, do drop in a comment.

Current Affairs

Funny Ashish Nehra Jokes

Funny Ashish Nehra Jokes
Image Source: Wikipedia

Ashish Nehra is a very good bowler, but he also has a knack of taking away the cricket game from his team’s grip in the very last over. Maybe that is why there are lots of funny Ashish Nehra jokes.

We have tried to compile some of them for you here:

Joke 1: Loving someone who does not love you is like batting when you need 37 runs in 6 balls. You know its impossible….but you still have a small hope that Ashish Nehra will bowl the last over

Joke 2: Mere dil mein hai jhakam itna gehra…
Mere dil mein hai jhakam itna gehra…
Jo, jeeti hui match hara de, wo hai Ashish Nehra…

Joke 3: Dabangg’s dialogue re-said by DHONI: “Afridi aur Akhtar se darr nahi lagta saahab Munaf aur Nehra se lagta hai.”

Joke 4: Indian fans to Team Pakistan: Doodh mangoge….chalo de denge…khud bana lena kheer. World cup mangoge…de denge Nehra…sir khujaate rehna phir…

Joke 5: Ab to har ghadi ye dil darega
Ab to har ghadi ye dil darega
Kya Pakistan k against last over Nehra karega?

Joke 6:
Dhoni’s MOTHER: Market se sabzi le aao.
Dhoni: Par Ma me kal match haar gaye na , to log bahut gusse me hain!
Maa: Meri sari pehenkar jao, koi nahi pehchanega Market mein
//Dhoni gaya//
One Gal: “hi dhoni” !
//Dhoni shocked//
“Kaise pehchana Gal?”
“Abe mein Nehra!”

Joke 7: The good thing when Nehra is bowling is that he’s not fielding… the bad thing when he is bowling is he is bowling!

Joke 8: Behind every successful batsman is Kamran Akmal. But in front of them is Ashish Nehra!

Joke 9: Couple silent in bed. Wife thinks. Why is he not talking to me? Is he thinking of another woman? Is he seeing someone? Don’t I appeal to him anymore? Are wrinkles showing on my face? Is he trying to dump me? Have I put on weight at the wrong places? Does my make up repel him these days. Is he upset with my nagging? Why? Husband thinks: Why in the hell did Dhoni give the last over to Nehra!

Current Affairs

Top 15 Jokes on Facebook buying Whatsapp

Joke 1: Facebook buys Whatsapp for $19 billion when they could have downloaded it for free!

Joke 2: Zuckerberg, if you are still into acquiring internet services that people spend enormous time on, may I suggest IRCTC. – Ramesh Srivats

Joke 3: One says Facebook bought Whatsapp for $19 Bn another says it was for $16 Bn. You reckon $3 Bn are hidden in their privacy settings? – @anushayadav

Joke 4: With Facebook taking over WhatsApp you can expect ads, pokes, spam Candy Crush Saga requests and bitstrips. Now then, where’s WeChat… – @scaryhairyman

Joke 5: People know many things. Mark Zuckerberg only two: Everything you say And everything you do – @fokkesukke

Joke 6: Facebook is buying everything where people pass time. Guess they’d buy the parliament next. – Faking News

Joke 7: Facebook Now Officially Owns Everything That Drains Out Our Phone’s Battery. – @SirJadeja

Joke 8: Buying WhatsApp: $16B Additional stock for employees: $3B Getting to evesdrop on 450 million people’s private conversations: priceless. – @aral

Joke 9: Facebook acquires Whatsapp. Now your messages will only reach 5% of your friends and you’ll have to pay to promote them to the rest. – @amreekandesi

Joke 10: Mark Zuckerberg’s one year Whatsapp subscription expired so he bought it – @SirJadeja

Joke 11: Dear Mark Zuckerberg, You own Facebook, Instagram and now Whatsapp. Basically, you have more information than NSA, RAW & ISI combined. – @KapilLaughs

Joke 12: Status of Mark: Can’t talk, WhatsApp only

Joke 13: Facebook buying Whatsapp: Is a deadly combination of ‘Seen on’ and ‘last seen at’!

Joke 14: Yes, we all know Facebook acquired WhatsApp this morning. Now wait for:
“Last seen at 11:30 pm with 47 other people in Goa having this amazing beer and here are 78 other photographs as proof” – Piyush Khandelwal

Joke 15: 2034: Facebook acquires Earth and you are a slave. – Shakti Prasad Biswal

More incoming:

Funny one: Mark Zuckerberg only needs to buy Twitter next year…he can be the king of WTF. – TK Srinivas

Current Affairs

Paris is burning

Paris is burning. In school, they taught us Rome was burning when Nero was playing the fiddle. So, is anybody playing the fiddle in Paris? Besides the French Government …which was last seen playing second fiddle.

Is Paris still the fashion capital? Nobody walks the ramp now a days. The last man who walked became a petrol bomb victim and now limps on the ramp. In short, Paris is no longer fashionable.

Of course, there is another school of thought, which believes that the French capital is still the fashion capital of the World. Just that the stakes have changed and it is now more fashionable to carry a leather bag full of stones to throw at the police…or a petrol bomb for the cars…

The French, known worldwide for their interest in wine are now whining and dining. Some blame the newfound interest in whining on the on-going politics. Some blame it on the riots that have flared in and around Paris, France. At last count 300 cities in France have been brought to a standstill due to riots. For a more clearer picture Click Here.

There is a river called Seine in Paris. Needless to say, it has a Left Bank and a Right Bank. And coincidently…the Left Bank is on the left side of the river while the Right Bank is on the right side of the river. And why are we talking of the river Seine? Because…the French have now Seine it…done it.

France was the last country I expected to go rioting. After all, they are considered the most refined. Well….at least the most refined drinkers. Alas, the last frontier has fallen.

French Prime Minister Dominique de Villepin has said Curfews would be the order of the day. Well, a few curfews.

One important fact, which stands out and interests the Indians is that after a week of rioting…the first life was lost only yesterday. That too…a 61 year old man who couldn`t hold it till he was taken to the hospital. In a week`s riot in India….we would have easily managed 5,50,076 people …give or take 10,000. Lazy French!

The French PM has promised to bring in 9,500 policemen to control the rioting. What a shame…that`s what we get to protect Jayalalitha`s house in Poes Garden, Chennai.

Current Affairs

When I got captured by Chinese Army and almost blew up China

I think it was the summer of 69. Or was it 62? Either way it was a summer to remember.

This is a very insignificant incident that happened in my life. I know, it might scare the S*&^t out of you, but for me…it was plain vanilla.

I was then on Indian soil, for I still remember stepping on some shit. The Chinese had started bombarding, and we had taken cover. Or do you think, I need to give you some more backgrounder before I proceed with my story?

I had joined the Indian Army, and in the early 1960s was posted at Aksai Chin region of Ladakh. Today, that land is with China. But it was Indian when this story of mine begins.

In the 1962 India-China war Aksai Chin was captured along with 33,000 square kilometers of Indian territory. China doesn`t accept it as Indian land and says India has captured its area – which is supposed to be Arunachal Pradesh.

Ever since, India-China have mended their fences. That is, they have put in place stronger fences on the border. But that doesn`t concern us. What concerns us is the day when I single-handedly brought China on its knees, and how just because I did not have a box of matches…India lost the India-China war.

– – –

In those days, we would always be in our war fatigues – the clothes Indian politicians had bought for their country`s soldiers. How much I wish, they hadn`t accepted the kickbacks before signing the contract…for we could not spend a night in those clothes without drinking in a bottle of rum. It was so cold. Once the rum went in, we did not need the clothes. Mind you all this was happening when the mountains were snow-clad.

I even remember the day when some Chinese soldiers could not see us in our ‘birthday` clothes and ran for their lives. Later, we realized the Chinese soldiers had run INTO India. We never told our superiors that we saw some Chinese soldiers, loaded with guns and ammunitions, run into India.

As I was saying, everyday I would get up outside of the tent. Perhaps, it had to do with this unique habit of my tent-mate – he believed that we did not need a sentry in the night, instead whenever we get up to pee in the night (and it being cold, that would be often), we should fire a few rounds in the air. I would have stayed on in the tent…but for two reasons. First, our tent did not have a roof…the tarpaulin had been blown off by my firing-in-the-air tent-mate. Second, whenever he got up to pee, he would fire…and then I would pee ….needless to say, in my pants. I was s*%t scared of the Chinese.

The best option was to get off the tent. No, I am not making this up for the daily dose of rum. That was free…and anyways, I was not married then….and hence did not need any excuse.

This went on. One day…our battalion decided to move to Arunachal Pradesh. That was a peaceful area…and everyone jumped up with happiness. Not me. I wanted to fight for my country and prove that I was not the son of a hunter, wild animals that had never seen. The closest my father had ever gone to a wild animal was when I fell down into the bear pit, and he climbed down to give me a sedative (and not take me)…so that I don`t cry and wake up the sleeping bears.

As I was saying…my whole battalion left and I was made sentry of the temporary toilets that the army units generally build wherever they travel (more so in the fighting zones). Generals like Napolean Bonaparte and Chingiz Khan have used these shit-holes as the primary level of defense, but not the Indian Army sir…we were fully armed to the teeth. We had soldiers who would have Pan Parag, and were ready to burst their mouth open whenever an enemy was in the vicinity.

Being the only man in the whole of 33,000 square kilometer region could be boring. Maybe, if I had a few sheep to talk to, I would have been fine…but the yaks that I met were not interested in conversation. Days passed, and then months.

You might think I lost my mind or something like that. But no…I was on the border. Don`t ask me what I ate and what I wore…and how I slept. That is classified.

Here are some snippets from the diary that I kept during the attack –

April 18, 1962, 9.30 a.m.
I realize I have to do something. The Chinese are accumulating their soldiers and arms across the border. I dress up…

April 18, 1962, 11.30 a.m.
I have decided to surprise the Chinese. I will attack them, when they would be least expecting it.

April 18, 1962, 12.00 noon
I spot one hole in the Chinese fence (so the Chinese did not mend their fence after all…they were just fooling us) and decide to sneak in.

April 18, 1962, 12.45 p.m.
I am in China. My secret attack on China is on. Hope it is not painful.

April 19, 1962, 7.00 p.m.
I killed one Chinese…goat…I think. I can`t be without food for more than two days. They never taught us this in Defence College.

April 20, 1962, 7.00 a.m.
I am captured…by the farmers. My disguise works. They think I am a petty Indian thief. They want to send me back….but I want to stay and attack.

April 20, 1962, 12.00 noon
I am in a Chinese jail. My strategy is working fine. I befriend the pick-pocket inside the jail. Looks like Bahadur, whom we see in so many Hindi movies.

April 21, 1962, 12.00 noon
I am taken to a judge. Who announces that I should be jailed in Beijing Central Jail.

April 22, 1962, 1.00 p.m.
I am in a prison van, being transported to Beijing. My plan fits my hand as my pocket…or is it the glove?

April 23, 1962, 6.00 p.m.
We reach the Beijing Central prison. Incidentally, the Chinese Premier is visiting the prison to give away steel rods to the jail wardens. China sure is a different country. Could not get close to the Premier; looks like he forgot to wear deodorant.

April 24, 1962, 4.00 a.m.
I try to escape from prison. I am caught and put in a cell with the notorious Russian Nuclear scientist called Fuclear Nission.

April 24, 1962, 9.30 p.m.
Scientist Fuclear Nission is now a friend. Nobody knows yet, but he even showed me a nuclear bomb under his bed.

April 24, 1962, 11.30 p.m.
The scientist is sleeping, and I have decided to die a martyr`s death….I am going to explode that nuclear bomb so that the whole of China is history. Shucks…I don`t have a box of matches. Note: Never smoke too much when you plan to attack a country.

April 25, 1962, Full Day
Feel pathetic about not being able to find a match box and light that nuclear bomb. Tried the prison kitchen…seems like they use Gobbar gas. Never knew the nuclear bomb looked like a candle …only the nuclear bomb gives a nice jasmine fragrance. Wonder if it would smell of jasmine when I light it …and it explodes.

April 26, 1962, 10.30 a.m.
I am released from prison. Exchanged at the border with other prisoners….but there is no hero`s welcome. If only I had a box of matches, and I had blown that nuclear bomb…today there would be no China …and I would be a war hero!

I still have the nuclear bomb in my house – including my wife and you only five others know of it. BTW, you can call me Field Marshall Rajan….