To all my true friends out there, known or unknown,

The RNR Rascals, my brother Amol, and more

specifically,
To someone who gives me a reason to smile…
 ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
A spark of brilliance comprises of other small streaks of light, which unite to form
that particular moment. This book is no different. I am grateful to the following
people, who have allowed me to make this a reality.

Not too far away, and always within me, starting with the „RNR Rascals‟. Nishad
Sanzagiri and Rishabh Karajgi, my school batch mates, have played fundamental
characters in this book.

Nishad helped me start the book, which was one of the most difficult phases. There
are times, when you have a whole collection of ideas. However, putting them to the
reader in an interesting, exciting and polished way is what requires some amount
of instinctive intervention. I thank him from the core of my heart.

Rishabh joined me in the later part of the book. A very good observer and analyst
by nature, he was able to foresee the errors that I would make, and provided
valuable guidance to help me correct them. There are pivotal chapters in the book,
which should be correctly put and coined so as to complete the puzzle, and this
was another important area, where I received valuable inputs. I extend my
gratitude to him.

My all time long distance best friend and former classmate, Maryne Aquarone is
yet another person. Words of motivation work like miracles. Completing the book
with school life on head is extremely difficult. Hence, progress is to be made in a
planned way. However, writing is an art that comes within the stream of
consciousness and this may not be at your optimum best, every time, to produce
the best results. Maryne‟s ideas and encouragement helped me stay on track and
make timely progress. A few more reasons, why she remains my long distance best
friend.

Another invaluable person is Sidra Waheed, my senior. In spite of being busy with
her academic schedule, she did provide me with feedback, and helped me have a
general consensus on the orientation of the book, all throughout. Completing the
book without this essential input is a near impossible task.

Last but not the least, there‟s maybe one more person, whom I should thank.
Without whom, the book would have not existed. For those reading the book, I‟ll
let you find out who this person is, or, I guess, I‟ll let that remain a secret. 
 WORD FROM THE AUTHOR
All of us have moments in life, which make us believe certain things. Experiences,
more often than not frame our opinions.
I hope that you are able to connect yourself with the ideas presented.
The views presented in the book are mine solely, and do not represent anyone.
Everyone is entitled to their own opinions and I would welcome any suggestions.
Do enjoy.
A Hundred and
Twenty-Seven
Moments

Rajat Asthana
Prologue:-

House No.12, Qurum

18th February, 2011
12.45 hours

Glaring right in front of Nishad, on his 15-inch LCD was something he always
anticipated, but never expected to be in such a way. It was the end of a long quest,
in which he had been my pawn. Nishad felt angry at the moment. He felt awed at
the fact, that everything fell into place, and it was all in plain sight, in front of him,
every day, and every moment.
Trying to comprehend the frenzy of emotions, there was one fact that hit him.
Deception, deceit, and delusion are walls of foes. Rajat built them for us, to see,
who cares to break them down. Never in time again, will three friends be united by
betrayal and pain.
Clearly, never will such an ingenious code exist and never will a love, as strange
and deep as mine, survive.
Chapter 1
Indian School Muscat
Room 302, 10B
8th January, 2011
(11.30 hours)

2011. I was starting to hate the number. The New Year hadn‟t been particularly
good for me. Some „under the skin‟ pointers by a teacher, some disputes, a boring
start, and a freaky seat partner. Not exactly the way, you would want the last few
months with your batch to start like. The continuous nonsense at the backseats of
the class continued, and so did the weird habits of insane people. I didn‟t know if I
was one of them. I didn‟t know if I was going to be. That day, I realized, that, no
matter, how lonely or confused you feel in life, there are some people, ready to
hold you from beneath, when the ice breaks.
With dad‟s three-yearly transfers, I had tried to make myself a machine. No
interaction, less friends, more focus, and living life by its mere duration and
mechanisms and not by its memories. This was from the time I got into ISM (May,
2009) until August, 2010. Two different people, with two similar priorities, and
different methods came into my life. The RNR Rascals - Rajat, Nishad, Rishabh.
We shared many similarities in our likes, dislikes and anonymous things.
Although, everyone had their varied combinations.
I and Rishabh are total computer freaks. From tweaking each other‟s computer to
new software, new wallpapers and everything you can possibly imagine of. We did
computer transactions, way more, than you could actually imagine.
Rishabh and Nishad are voracious readers. Both of them have finished more pages
of famous text then I could practically count. I was trying to become one of them,
by recently accomplishing a small feat of getting four Dan Brown books down my
mind.
Music too had its specifications. Rishabh was into Metal and Rock, with a lot more
variety, while I and Nishad had a narrower spectrum of preferences. But, even we
both were trying to become like him. This conversation could be extended to
topics, subjects, activities, hobbies, beliefs and approaches. Infinity indeed.
It was only 5 months ago, when the three of us had intersected each other‟s paths
to make a team to compete for PHYSICS KNOWLEDGE WORLD for Jhankar
2010. We had a common reason to participate: removal of Jhankar 2009 due to
H1N1. We had a common liking: physics. WE had two common traits: hard-work
and military precision. We had a common goal: VICTORY. Emerging as the
runners-up, we went to watch a movie. Since that day, it‟s been an uphill journey,
getting better, day by day, and moment by moment, memory after memory, and
recess after recess. Only yesterday had my dad talked about, „the law of averages‟.
Where individuals, groups or a combination of factors, couldn't operate more
efficiently than they were meant to. I sort of thought of applying the same thing to
our friendship.

Only time was to reveal if this law would catch up with us, or, whether, we are
truly, a „TERRIFIC TRIO.‟
Chapter 2
Room 302, 10B
8th January, 2011
11.40 hours

Barcelona....Eminem...Reddy!!..SPLASH...
Startled, i woke up to the usual water fights and hog competitions in class 10B.

Through the hustle and bustle, as usual, I came out of my seat. A few stretches, a
few hogs, and a quick exchange of hi-fives got over in a jiffy. The normal
expedition to the other wing of the floor started with the normal preliminary check
for Rishabh in 10H, who, as usual was through his notes, books. I kept the
'dedicated' lunch box on his table and went towards my second home.
Cutting across the gaps left by the smiling and hyper-active people in the recess, I
somehow managed to reach the other side.
Recess in any school is a time when things take a turn for the opposite. The
quietest of the children well, seldom remain quiet and there's a wider variety of
activities than anywhere else. Football with cricket balls, in classrooms, the usual
drama of the girls, an emotional showpiece somewhere here, and a fight for a piece
of food, smaller than my own palm.
Woken up a hard pat on my back, I turned around. By now, i knew the style with
which people hit each other. Undoubtedly, it was Nishad. With a reply it started as
usual, “Where‟s Karajgi man? Stuck in his books? ".
I obviously had more respect for the person and turned around to investigate.
"Speak of Einstein and he's here." Another round of high fives followed with
Rishabh.
Discussions in school and particularly during recess follow a very organized
pattern. The man speaking first becomes the first centre, and so on.
However, this thought of mine got a contrary to the statement, something, which
even I didn‟t realize, could be put responsible as my position today.
Facebook was another topic of discussion, and it seemed that students were
obviously more peculiar to remember online activities than their courses.
Following this up, Nishad said to me, “Hello, Dr. Phil...What are those crazy
statuses you uploading on Fb man? Get a life."
Rishabh's first and last comment, “Hello, seniore. Only you know what you are up
to. Facebook is crashing due to your statuses. People actually log off when they see
your wall."

TRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!
This was one of the most hated sounds in the four walls of ISM, and i bet it is the
same in every school. We all said our goodbyes as the presence of misters and
mistresses of various subjects started to be feared with.

And so, I along with about 250 other ISMites started the dreaded journey back to
our classrooms. For some reason, I wanted to be inside. Why?
Chapter 3
Room No. 302, 10B
8th January, 2011
Departure (13.53 hours)
Finishing my usual true, prayers to the Almighty, I packed my bag and hurried
down to the other wing. The daily rush was there yet again and we took to snail
pace.

Departure from the other wing down the three stories of stairs is quite a task.
Again, diversity exists everywhere. You have silent people who are walking way
too fast, and others who are chattering along the way as if it‟s their own lounge.
Add to this the diversity of sizes and it indeed becomes a hassle.

As I had managed to till now, I surfaced under the pleasant January sun and
proceeded forward to the stairs in my habitual manner. Again, I went through the
ritual of waiting at the gate, waiting for someone. A glimpse of the face was more
than enough to replenish me, while a conversation was a gold coin in my memory.

The screaming of my bus conductor woke me up and i ran competing against the
Mitsubishi automatic 2842. I managed to just sneak in, and had got lucky on my
twin search for food.

Screams, howls, blaring music and senseless activities filled the atmosphere.
Indeed, the bus was a world in itself.
Finally, my stop came, and along with it, a Mountain Dew can. Although, I
believed academic studies and practical deeds are distant, this was one of the
activities which had evolved inside me, which was to throw garbage in the garbage
can. SO, I threw the garbage into the can and walked uphill to my home, awaiting
Amol‟s cheerful smile or blissful sleep.
What I did not know, however, was that, there are some things, related to someone,
that even he could not replace.
Surprising, isn't it?
Chapter 4

Flat-11, 2560
HOME
8th January, 2011
(15.25 hours)

When teenage students reach home, there are two things that they can do. One
would be looking at themselves in the mirror, and switching on all their gadgets
while they change and create a digital blare.
The others will just slouch in their couches, and start to doze off.
Fortunately, I was neither of the two. Trust me; it would be a painful situation.

Finishing my lunch, I settled into my dwelling, my room that is.

No homework, no pending class work are two things that every students longs for.
Well, that was one of those days.

Most students, including me would have a variety of other options to exploit the
'afternoon to dusk' time. Some prefer music, while going online is another option.

AS usual, the law of checks and balances came to work, and I reminded myself
that we had our Math tuitions. Oh well, being in tuitions was fun. Lost and tired, I
got ready and waited in the pleasant misty air for my ride.

It was on that day that I realized the fact, that whatever situation you desire for, is
like the lens of a camera, where the pictures it catches remain frozen moments in
time. So was my desire...
Chapter 5
Flat-11, 2560
HOME
8th January, 2011
(15.45PM)

TRRRRIIIINNNNNNGGG! - IT's the most modern ring tone that every person
should have. Simply the best.

There are two very common types of 'encounters' we have in life. One is when the
phone rings, while sleeping.
Another one is when the mind wakes up from its dreams. I just realized that
tuitions had been cancelled.
However, there was another encounter, one, that I myself never expected.

I returned to my dwelling, staring at blank empty walls. However, something told

me, that they were smiling. Yes, the walls are smiling.
As my eyes closed to the dreams of that soul, I recalled the last few moments in
December 2010, which had left me thunderstruck, awestruck.
Never had I expected a reply so subtle, so kind, and yet so touching.
"Hope for the best, and expect the worst" was my policy and still is. But each
passing day, makes it tougher to not expect, to not hope.
Each day, each minute counted to me, of those precious moments that I adore in
my heart, assembled and graced like a new born soul.
For me, everyday was new. Her presence was a gift of God, which I learned to
appreciate. This was, because she herself resembled God. Someone, who had been
with me, yet been distant. With whom, seconds became diamonds, and minutes
became gold. Someone, whose presence in my vicinity created a sensation, which
no one else could. Someone, whose words could ignite a spark within me so bright,
that it would blind everyone, including her. Someone, whose touch, would have
got me goose bumps. Someone, whose deep eyes, would reflect my own soul.
Someone, whose face would make me realize the worth of my life. Someone,
whose words were like the dewdrops scattering the early morning light. Those
words had split my soul into pieces and her eyes had managed to keep me alive.

An incident during a celebration reminds me. I had been poked with a knife, and
asked, “Want to die?” At one point, I had a doubt if I had chosen correctly.
Chapter 6

Flat-11, 2560
HOME
8th January, 2011
(16.50 hours)

It is said that, God gives you your chances. You just have to count them.
However, little did I know that I was going to be resembled as a demon, as events
unfolded.

God makes you poor, desolate, and full of hardships before he rewards you and I
was .......

PAUSE: Hello reader, I‟m dreaming.

PING-PING-PING!
I woke up from my study table, amidst my beautiful dream about her. Seriously,
dreaming online was not the new way to go.
Those 3 chat messages were from none other than the man himself, Nishad.

PAUSE
Waking up from a dream about a special person due to three chat pings from your
best friend is a very bad experience. Trust me, you don‟t know what to lose, and
time doesn‟t ask your opinion.
Lose your dream, and you'll go dead with it, because I was in such depth. Try
losing your friend, and you'll long for the presence of your loved one. Try loosing
the computer, and you'll end up losing both.

But, that day was different, and no one knew, it would permanently elevate the
corridor of uncertainty to a whole new level.
Nishad, “Dude, your statuses are insane. I mean, I respect you a lot. But they just
don‟t seem to make sense.
Me, “Yeah, It's been some while since sense came to me. Losing yourself in
someone often results in that.
Nishad, " O_o, bow down to Dr.Phil: So my best friend is lost in someone, and
posting crappy statuses about the person. How weirder can you get?"
Me, “Ok, enough of self-rag man. Let‟s go to something else."
Nishad, “Oh- see, self flattering. You really can‟t blow your own trumpet, can
you? "
Me, “Nope, it‟s a survival of the fittest out there."
Nishad, “Ha-ha! Its ok man, I know no one can beat me."
Me, "Alright. So, what else?"
Nishad, “You think you are going to escape like that huh, without telling me
properly. I know you all too well."
Me, “Let‟s see."
Nishad, “Yeah, give me some time. You're on to something. Wow. What is it? I
don't know. Ok, so seriously asking, it‟s about AMOL right?
Me, “Ha-ha! Nope...nope...nope. You're worse than I thought!"
Nishad, “Oh then it‟s about me!”
Me, “Nishad, serious talking, well....it's about...”
Nishad, “Someone from the past?”
Me, “Umm ...no…it‟s about a girl."
Nishad, " Oh...so my best friend's upon someone. Pity her. Come on, now, no need
to be so shy and stuff. Tell me who it is."
Me, “You said you were good enough right? Humm I want to test you, frankly
speaking."
Nishad, “What?? Test? Jeez, alright now...tell the name."
Me, " No point in telling because...
Nishad, “Damn it, you're a rat...nibbling off stuff...and not telling huh...rascal”

On 8th of January, at 17.00 hours, this was the turning point. A turning point in our
friendship, and the way, we understood one another.

Now took place, the transitional phenomenon. Now, it was these words which
were to become my best friends.
On the 8th of January, 2011 at 17.07 hours, three words took birth, which made
Nishad say, “Uggh, Goodness gracious...this guy just proved that I don‟t know
him!”
Those three words were none other than the following phrase:-
"R@$cally ReWritten Revelation$”....
Chapter 7
Flat-11, 2560
HOME
8th January, 2011
(17.30 hours)

There are some things, which when shown send shivers down your spine and give
you goose bumps. There are some things so hilarious, that you can't manage to
give a stare. There's a stark difference between the two. Apparently, that line had
just been removed.

Spitting out water from his mouth, onto his new Toshiba 15-inch LCD, Nishad
looked in shock, awe and a frown,.
My Panasonic cordless woke to an orange glow from the expected man.
Nishad, “Hold it man, sorry if you took it on heart."
Me, “Ha-ha! Why is that?? "
Nishad, “Well, crappy statuses all right, but what's this RRR??"
Me, “It‟s not RRR. It's R@$cally ReWritten Revelation$..."
Nishad, “Yeah that only, drama queen. Enough huh enough"
Me, “Lol, you called me a rascal. That's what I'm proving."
Nishad, “Sorry man, see, you took it on your heart."
Me, “No Nishad, you relieved my heart. This will really become the key to your
question. "
Nishad, “Woo, Dr. Phil. Just tell the...
Me, " I'm talking...talking serious Nishad, trust me.
Nishad, “BUT... WAIT...!”

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP

At that point of time, I had a rethought if I had been too harsh on him. Some things
have to be figured out, within, mutually. This was one of those moments.
Nishad, at that point was only recovering from the shock that this had been.
Clearly, sensibility, sarcasm and strength were what composed him. However, at
this point, he was unsure of what to use. He very well knew that I had not taken it
on heart, but what other sense could he make out of " R@$cally ReWritten
Revelation$. "
Glancing up on to his Facebook profile, he checked the notification. In a moment,
it struck him and clearly, his New Year had started with a BANG.

"Rajat Mastana Asthana-->Nishad Sanzagiri

R@scally reWritten revelation$ - the tantalizing tale of testimony, rewritten by me,
to be revealed by you...All d best :) :D"
January 8 at 11:11pm · Like ·
Chapter 8

House No. 12, Qurum

8th January, 2011
(19.00 hours)

On the 25th of October, 2010 Nishad Sanzagiri had received a so called pre
meditated cheap gift - a Toshiba Satellite - L635.

MY wall post had just turned that statement true. Nishad felt he was better off not
having the laptop, hoping he would have never got it. He knew that every object in
the universe had its worth and it seemed that this electronic gadget was more than a
computer. IT was going to be his penultimate tool.
There are times when our aspirations and a situation‟s practical demands are
contrary to each other.
Obviously, Nishad was shocked.
“Why would someone as close as Rajat treat me like this?” he thought.

Once again, the universal law of checks and balances came to play. He was to
understand that it was our mindsets, our experiences and our thinking which were
similar. It was his shining persona, along with two other people, that had invited
the attack of the devil.
At this point, „Rajat‟ meant devil. Even empathy, wasn‟t good enough to solve
Nishad‟s dilemma.

Nishad had the similar sinus headache that he had got during his winter vacation to
Western India. However, this headache was one that no medicine could cure. There
were only two people at that point of time who could have helped him with that
nerve-wracking headache of his; he himself and me.

It is said that all is fair in love and war. Looking at my own perspective, it is hard
to define what this was. Yes, it was the right for recognition of my love. Yes, it
was the war for friendship.
No, it wasn't either of the two. It was a mutual conquest.

At this point, my emotional senses were clearly taking control. My professional

childhood had taught me one of the most important lessons - impulse control. This
can be thought of as a revision of your answer sheet during your exams.
One way of revising would be to finish the whole paper and then revise. The other
way would be to revise the question all along during the attempt. The latter is
obviously, harder to inculcate. This inculcation had taken place, when I was a child
and it was helping me , today, more than ever.

Gathering all the strength left in him to come online again and talk, Nishad seemed
disease-struck. I knew that he would come out of it, if not today, then tomorrow.
On the contrary, my path ahead had been planned. I had to make the right moves at
the right time.
After about two hours, we started our conversation again.
Nishad, " Phew, that headache...finally left me."
Me, “Humm...I really didn't intend that."
Nishad, “Well, i know this is a game. It's going to get over soon. "

He was suffering like a mental patient right now, or was he acting. I don‟t know.
What I know is, it didn't impress me. Why not bring Nishad close to mental
expiry?
Chapter 9

Flat-11, 2560
HOME

What would I do so bad or drastic that would make Nishad think that he was better
dead?
Thinking from Nishad's side for a moment, it truly felt like a murder. However, my
impulse had been suppressed, my heart relieved and my mind, activated.
IT had only been a little more than 8 months since me and Nishad had started to
know each other. This time frame was more than enough for me to know anyone,
leave aside Nishad, for he was one gem of a person. There was one thing he wasn't
good at, and that was acting.
Silence, depression and comebacks may seem very distant characteristics. Finding
all three in one is like finding a needle in a haystack.
Nishad was one such needle.
He himself knew that I had a freakish intuitive ability to speechlessly
communicate. The mere thought of intuitive connectivity was more than enough,
and he knew this fact. He felt that it was this very connectivity that had started to
give him his headaches.
As he checked the update on his SAMSUNG CORBY, little did he know about the
doomsday for him.
We‟ll get to that in a minute. Think of a situation where you have been falsely
framed, or targeted by someone higher in authority to you. Anger reaches its
highest and we feel helpless.

Think of another situation where a small kid hits you intentionally with his bat.
Even though angry, you would smile at the kid and tell him not to do it again.
The wisest thing at that point would be to just go away.
However, what if you have nowhere to go? What if it is your very own small
brother, keeps on hitting you? Follow that up, with his false 'accusations' to your
parents, and you're more than likely to become a criminal. Add to this, the fact that
you aren‟t allowed to express your anger. It‟s a state of mental comatose, to be
honest.

Woefully, he checked his SAMSUNG CORBY.

It was his bed that saved the innocent handset‟s life.

Chapter 10
House No. 12
Qurum
8th January, 2011
(22:27 hours)

"R@$cally ReWritten Revelation$: your absence was much felt today, but yes as i
retire for the new day, your cunning code still rings in my ears.... :) ;) :D I have
posted this as my first status Nishad, and the game has truly begun...All these
statuses that I will be putting up are a clue for you to find out, who, i‟m referring
to. Figure out who it is. I have respect for you. Try running away from this, and
you might never be able to gain some of it back from my side..Try putting corners
and the consequences can be disastrous. Play fair and trust me....you only have me
to fear. Happy sleep, GOOD NIGHT „Your best friend - Mastana‟”

Nishad tried measuring the height and velocity required to suicide with 100%
efficiency. Deadly perfection was what he wanted.
How many things would Nishad digest in one day? Forget day, it had been a roller
coaster of events since he came back home. He was innocent. But for me, it was
his innocence which would be my outlet, which would let me control him, which
would let me control myself. He was cursing modern communication technology
on one hand, and himself on the other. Why did he even choose a friend like me?
Was Rajat Mastana Asthana really playing around with him?

Did Rajat think that only he knew wicked diplomatic ways, of which he used to be
teased and think that this would teach him a lesson? How could his life filters have
gone wrong? Was there something in Rajat that I had not seen? Did he feel so bad
for what I might have told him in afternoon in school or on chat?? Was this a
revenge of some sort?
Thoughts raced through Nishad's mind as went out to get some air. Clearly, the
number of questions kept on increasing, and the answers seemed as far as the
invisible moon itself on that night....
Chapter 11

Indian School Muscat Corridoors,

9th January, 2011
(06:50 hours)

Morning is a time when you were expected to be at your optimum best. Little did
teachers know, that it was the contrary. Add with this, the time frame of the 'New
Year : 2011' and you are beaten all ends up.
For me, though, 2011 had been a totally different year. I suppose I was responsible
for it. As I made the walk towards room no. 302, thoughts about yesterday's SMS
raced on in my mind.
Would he talk to me if I met him in his class right now? Would he shout at me?
Would he even look at me? Would he....
BANG!
Amidst my thoughts, I had banged into the Food Store of 10B: Ashish Reddy.
With his usual smile, and imitative ability, he said, “Aah, MASTANA, What is
this? Look and walk." I nodded and followed him to class. Seeing him had proved
to be a source of relief.
I put my bag down, did the ritual of high fives and continued the dreaded journey
to my second-home, which I was afraid of losing at that moment.
I went inside the class, and as usual, he was sitting there. I went up to him, almost
uttering an apology for last night. Once again, impulse took over.
Looking up to me, he said, “Dude, what was that thing that you sent me yesterday
night man? I‟m really sorry if I have committed some mistake. Be honest with me.
Is something wrong? "
It is said, that there are some things that you wish would never happen. There are
other things which we wish, would be asked by the other person.
I was in a dilemma in between both of these desires. Which one to chose, was
indeed a difficult choice to make.
Best friends are not different people. They just understand differently. This was
indeed the case with the trio of me, Nishad and Rishabh. Nishad understood the
dilemma on my face, and Rishabh, who I very well knew was standing right
behind me, understood the seriousness of the situation.
He made a quick exit.
Just when I collected enough courage to answer Nishad, the most hated sound of
the ISM corridors came to life. Again, Nishad was like, “its ok man. Next recess.
We'll go down."
I smiled at him and said, “Not needed bro, just wait for these three periods to get
over. I'll answer all your questions."
The usual click-clock of the fists took place and I made the quick dash to my room.
On the way, the ritual of saying "Hi" was also to be followed, and so I did.
Somewhere inside, a thought came up, “I don‟t know what all I might lose trying
to make you understand...This one would stretch me to unprecedented limits. “
Chapter 12

Indian School Muscat

Room No. 302, 10B
9th January, 2011
(09:00 hours)

I looked out of the window, to the ship standing in the calm Arabian Sea, and the
pleasant sun. It seemed all too perfect, and trust me, you wanted to be anywhere
except in your chair inside the classroom.
Concentrating in class is particularly difficult in certain circumstances. If your
favourite subject is being taught, then you tend to talk around more, because you
know that you'll grasp the topic eventually, no matter what. As if, the subject's
destined for your understanding. If your most hated subject is being taught, then,
it's the worst time you can have. All of us feel that standing outside in punishment
during that particular subject would be a blessing in disguise. If your favourite
teacher's teaching, then you feel free to do everything and anything excluding
what, she wants to inculcate in our minds.
If the teacher you hate most is teaching, then, there's simply nothing you can do
about it. Purely based on individual skill of 'Disaster Management.'
However, the strange thing about today was that, it was the absence of all of these
reasons, which was making me restless. Hopefully, I looked at my Swiss Quartz,
which woefully told me that there were another seven to eight minutes to go,
before recess would begin.
Rarely would a time come when I would have to plan, what I had to say, to whom,
how, and many other questions. Seriously, answering all these questions would
easily consume the remaining time, and I devoted myself with full concentration..
Chapter 13
Indian School Muscat
Room 314
9th January, 2011
(09:20 hours)

I had answered most of my questions, and questioned most of my answers. I really

did not know. The time had come and I was going to find out.
The first recess in the D-Block of Indian School Muscat was a peaceful one.
People used to go around talking, and it was characterized by very less activity.
Some students went for their doubt clearance, while others continued their life long
association with the boring pages of another book.
As for me, it was always class 10-J, room 314 to go to. I went, and I found Nishad
waiting at the door for me. So, we calmly sat down and the discussion started.
Nishad, “Ok man, tell. I want to know."
Me, "Well, I very well know that the SMS had shocked you."
Nishad, "True indeed. But I did sense something else. I read it over and over again
before sleeping."
Me, " Yes, and then?”
Nishad, "Yeah, and I just hoped that I would get the answer. Guess what. I woke
up at 5 A.M today, drank some water, and then it struck me."

Me, “Humm, Bollywood style. So, what was the dish being cooked according to
you. "

Nishad, "I felt you were calling out for something. I know you very well man. Ok,
yeah, that SMS shocked me, but I very well know that this is not the sort of
humour you have."

Me, "Well, you're right. I'm calling out to you. Nishad, you're my best friend.
Neither do I want you to prove it. What I want to see is, the bond between special
friends."

Nishad, “Well alright then. That cools me down. What is this " R@$cally
ReWritten Revelation$" about then?

Me, “This is the set of codes that I'm going to be giving you. You're going to use
them to find out who it is. "
Nishad, “Ohk. "

I could clearly see the signs of relief on Nishad's face. He had truly been disturbed
with yesterday's night. I was glad this conversation had taken place, early and
properly.
Nishad, “So, it is indeed, a girl? Someone you love? "
Me, " Not only is it a girl, it is someone you know. “

Nishad, “Well then, anyone else knows this?”

Me, “Guess...”
Nishad, " Maryne might be one of them...and.. "
Me, "Rishabh Karajgi's the other.”
Nishad, “Ohk, so am I the first one to know? "
Me, "Yes"
Nishad, “Well, when are they coming into all this then?”
Me, “They will, but that shouldn‟t concern you."
TRRRRIIIINNNGGGG....
I knew it was time to go, but I knew I had to make one final move.
Me, “Nishad, you better be the first one to crack this."
Nishad, “Wait a minute... "

No sooner had I said those words that I disappeared into the opposite wing. My
intuitive connectivity activated and I very well knew Nishad's confusion.
Understanding the seriousness of the situation Nishad muttered in disbelief to
himself” The New Year BANG hit him hard. Why? “
Chapter 14
Indian School Muscat
Room No. 311
9th January, 2011
(11.42 hours)

Looking at that different room number and that too, at the stroke of second recess,
might have surprised you a bit. I'll be frank. I was surprised to find myself in that
class, as well.
10-H is one class, where it would be murderous to miss out on its description. It
was truly the metropolitan of class 10. The class used to be full of students, no
matter what. This often created a paradox. There were people who still wanted to
enter, even after seeing that the class is full. Those who really needed to go inside
the class would then drop the idea of entry, as exit would be a ten times more
difficult task.
Not paying attention to either of the circumstances, I somehow managed to pave
my way through to Rishabh's seat. I put the lunch box my mom had given for him
and eyed him.
He had grown weak, thin and feeble. His mother had not been around for about
two weeks now, and we both spent an awesome time together in the winter
vacations of 2010. Those days were as balanced as it could get. However, his
mom's departure for a period of 40 days to India brought the undesired welcoming
of a prolonged cold, which would last the same duration.
We both had become really good friends. Looking at his new haircut, my mind
rolled back to the time we had spent together after Jhankar.
We lived within a kilometer of each other‟s houses, and this fact , was a major
factor in our friendship. It was during the winter Eid holidays of 2010, when our
frequent transactions or, should I say, transformation took place. I still remember
that pivotal phone call that Rishabh had placed on my noisy landline.
Rishabh, “ Hey man, listen. You were getting bored, right? You want to come play
TT with me?”
I was stunned, surprised, excited. Everything at once. TT had been one of my
strengths and my favourites. Lack of chances, companions and opponents often
made it a pass-away thought. I accepted the offer, knowing little, that, this would
become one of our favourite activities. Recreation - Rishabh - Rajat. Was it the „R‟
factor at operation? We were truly clueless.
He is an awesome TT player, and we both complement each other‟s game. I‟m not
as good as him, and, might never be. Still, the joy of playing TT or any other sport
with him is rarely paralleled. It is said; you play a game with a friend, a sport with
an opponent, and love both with a coach. I bet that, Rishabh was my first and last
encounter of such a power packed combination.
Apart from TT, we went to each other‟s houses. Getting to know each other‟s
families, closely, and helping out each other in problems and solutions alike.
Electronic gadgets, tweaks, information exchanges, group discussions, strolls,
academics and other general topics. You can never run out of steam, when with
him.
I still remember the time when during the winter vacations in December, 2010.
From the 4-hour long study sessions to the failed attempts of the blacklist in NFS,
which used to break our minds, to the silly photography shoots on the roof of his
house; from the dangerous treks to our most astounding discovery yet, which has
become a question in the minds of many: “Where are those trekking pictures taken
guys? “
In his mom‟s absence, I had vowed to support him, and, Rishabh was grateful from
the core of his heart, for this fact. Another recent stunner from his side, was about
his shifting.
It is simply something, which I cannot express words about. Apologies.
Bringing my mind into the present, I realized that Rishabh gave a sigh of relief,
after seeing me.
Rishabh, “Phew, lucky you came here. Otherwise, I was going to start my search."
Me, "Yeah, just managed to. Hope I get out alive. "
That little dose of sarcasm was enough to elevate him. I felt good for a change, and
I hope that was the case with him too.
Rishabh, " Okk, don't mind. You were talking something serious to Nishad in the
morning. I thought of not to interfere. Guess it was right. "
Although, I hadn't thought of the reply I was supposed to give to that question, I'd
decided that I'd rather be true. However, Rishabh and me were best buddies, and so
were we of Nishad. There was a common similarity, which we all had.
Rishabh, “Ohk, now, I don't come online too often. I did see your status though,
and your wall post on Nishad's profile. My inference is that it was something
related to this, that you were talking to Nishad. Clearly, not sarcastic. If I'm within
my borders, would you mind telling? "
This was one thing, that I liked maybe specifically about Rishabh. You have to
know, how to bounce high enough, without actually falling into someone else's
territory. But our friendship bore no boundaries, no territories, no divide.
Me, “Well, you might have noticed that RRR prefix in my status right?"
Rishabh, “Yes, and its full form is Rascally Rewritten Revelations. "
Me, “Bulls eye. What do you think it is? "
Rishabh, " Umm, no idea. Something about yourself maybe?? Or AMOL?"
Me, “Humm, it is about someone. You just have to find out who it is. RRR is a set
of codes which will help you find out that person. Guesswork doesn't work,
because I would want the answers with some reasoning. Strike up every person we
both know, and if you don‟t tell me a valid reason for your answer, I'm blankly
saying NO, even if right. "
Rishabh,” That's a lot of terms and conditions you got there."
Me, "Yep, that's why, I‟ve given to best friends, and not friends you idiot. "
Rishabh, “Well,, give me a preliminary hint at least."
Me, “It‟s the perfect pair, not the mismatched one. "
Rishabh, “WHAT???”
Me, “XX or XY, which one is perfect?”
Rishabh, “Oh, I see. So, it's a girl."
Me,” Why? You still got doubts over that? "
Rishabh, " Ha-ha! So, how many people know about this till now? "
Me,” Well, Nishad was the first, and you're the second. "
Rishabh,” Hold on, how's that possible. You said, you're putting up statuses. You
got more than 700 friends out there. They are all going to see it except for the
couple of blocked ones"
Me,” They will see it themselves. I have showed it to you and Nishad personally. :
Rishabh, " Now, why would that be?"
TRRRRIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGG
Once again, I wanted the bell hanging on the wall to disappear. Still, this question
of his had to be answered.

Me, "Rishabh, I told you about it because you are one my best friends.”

A wave of confusion filled him as I hurried back for the last fraction of the school
day to get over. In some time, Rishabh would have joined the game.

Somewhere else, in some corner of 314, Nishad was noting down stuff, onto his
new dairy.
Chapter 15

Flat-11, 2560
HOME
9th January, 2011
(14.20 hours)

A tired, exhausted and completely drained Rajat sat on the couch, admiring Amol's
heart melting smile. Inspite of the age gap, I never felt awkward. Many people had
questioned me on this aspect, and I wasn't anywhere behind.
I really didn't understand how people thought of siblings as 'disturbing agents'. It
had been a truly thrilling journey for me.
His smile used to remind me of the tension I was going through , right outside the
operation theatre on 27th October, 2007 at around 11:50 A.M IST.
"Forget it, it's gone.” I reminded myself and sat down in my dwelling after a
healthy meal.
My logical abilities told me, that Rishabh was going to have a hard time following
all this. He was indeed screwed up in the absence of his mom and sick. Would he
prove me wrong? Nothing could be said.
On the other hand, I feared if Nishad was going to become sick due to all this. I
really didn't expect that, after our conversation in school. He had got his bearings
back, and I was glad.

Once again, her face came in front of me. I was indeed tired. I infer that it was a
matter of minutes before I had made myself comfortable on the single-bed in my
room. Guess, this was one reason, why bright light would actually be useful to
make you sleep. Around 3 hours later, I woke up, rejuvenated and happy.
I was one of those who didn't really believe in afternoon naps. Was it due to her, or
due to the New Year sluggishness? As of now, I believe that afternoon naps are
important. Others opinions shouldn‟t affect you.
After getting myself back to senses, I ignited my computer to life. There wasn't
anything left to do, and so, I amused myself with Alternative rock in the
background and Facebook.
I was only pondering through the notifications, when, she started chatting with me.
She, "Hey "
True to my heart, whenever, she was online, I waited for her to start the chat. If she
did, it gave me some sort of a satisfaction. Difficult to describe, impossible to
forget.
Me, "Hey...long time around, how's your cold now?"
She, "Much better, still have some pain.”
Me, "Humm, try warm salt water gargles and steam. It's the best. Even I have a
cold, but these two have controlled it."
I had developed a know-it-all reputation with her. Be it the medicines that she will
get for her cold, sprain, headache or timings of her meals. This was truly the
epitome of intuitive connectivity, and it was one thing, which I felt, that always
amazed her, and still do, I hope.
One of those moments, where I said, “it‟s a gift of God." No wonder, it used to
work perfectly with her. A God I wanted.
She, "Yeah, I will. So, what else? What are you up to these days? "
I had been very much prepared for this question, but, I don't think that this was the
case with her.
Me, "Well, not much. Just remembering Vikky's 'open secret' thing."
She, "Humm..I got to go. C ya. "
Now, I had got so used to this that I never really expected our chats to be more
than 5-10 minutes long.
I signed off with my usual " tc...ADIOS...and get well soon”
As I was about to log off, I realized a few things. One was, that the girl herself,
never knew, that she was the 'open secret' I'm talking about, and she will never
come to know.
Also, there was someone else besides, Nishad and Rishabh Karajgi, who would
have been staring at the RRR game on my profile, sitting, 2500 miles away. Oh,
well, this was becoming an international game indeed.
Chapter 16

Flat-11, 2560
HOME
9th January, 2011
(21.45 hours)

Dinner in my house was late. Late meaning, very late. If I was in India, it would
not have been the case. Seriously, I never thought that 10 P.M is too late a time to
have dinner. Obviously not, with my nocturnal habits. Sleeping 3 hours in the night
had made me as thin as ever before. It wasn‟t too thrilling of an experience. It had
been a direct drop from 73 Kg to 64 Kg. Even the family doctor was surprised, to
see a loss of more than a tenth of the body weight within a week or so. That‟s what
lack of sleep can do to you.
I had learned from this. No, looking at the time, not exactly. Still, I had improved. I
was at east making it 30 hours in 5 days. It used to be half of that, at some time.
An online ping disturbed my health thoughts. There were about 4 possibilities, but
I knew who this would be.
Maryne, “Hi Rajat! Long time around, and I‟ve got loads on my mind. “
Now, let me introduce you people to Maryne Aquarone. She had been my ex-
classmate for three years, and is again,my „best friend‟ She is Swiss, and was in
Athens at the moment. It was only a year back, since Facebook connected both of
us. We had lost contact in 2005 and regained it in Jan, 2010. The same year, she
spent a week of her vacations (March end - April start), and we both were fortunate
enough to see each other after 5 years. Intuitive connectivity was our most
prestigious similarity.
Chatting with her, always made me remind those days, when she had been in
Muscat.
Today was no different, but the topic of discussion was. As expected, the pieces
fell where I thought they would.
Maryne, “Alright then, Rajat. I have been say, stalking your profile since about 90
days. Something‟s caught my eye. One‟s recent, and one‟s as old as the time period
mentioned.”
Me, “Well, you have a sharp eye.”
Maryne,” Well, since 90 days back...or maybe even further, your statuses on FB
are awesome. DEEP. EMOTIONAL. and No hiding from me, there‟s someone out
there, you‟re describing. “
Me, “Humm...Continue”
I realized the fact, that she had actually hit the turf earlier than Nishad, or Rishabh
had. Well, I was amazed by her sharp eye. Precision princess.
Maryne, “From yesterday, you put up a status prefix - „R@$cally ReWritten
Revelation$‟. To me, this is frankly, your way of expressing something, in coded
language. “
Me, “Bulls eye Maryne, and, it will be in plain English. “
Maryne, “So, do I know the person? “
Me, “It‟s someone from here. You obviously don‟t know the person, but I have
mentioned it to you, before. I‟m afraid, that‟s the only hint I can give you. The rest
all is there in the statuses I will be uploading. “
Maryne, “Curse my memory. I‟ll try to find out. “
Me, “Maryne, I need to go now.”
Maryne “Let me complement, your statuses so far are awesome. They just connect.
“
Rajat, “Humm, there‟ll be plenty. “
I signed off, knowing very well, that my plot had succeeded. I had the people that I
wanted. Satisfied and content, I sat down to some calming music. After much
thought, I wrote down in military command on my new whiteboard. “OBJECTIVE
ACHIEVED, MISSION INITIATED,”
Chapter 17
Flat-11, 2560
HOME
9th January, 2011
(21.45 hours)

Finishing dinner, and packing my bag. I once again looked up at the whiteboard. I
never really thought that things would start to fall in place. Again, I understood
how the universal law of checks and balances came to work.
This law sometimes works against you, sometimes in your favour, and sometimes,
both ways. We just don‟t realize it. Keeping things in equilibrium, in perfect
symphony with one another, and yet maintaining bonds was going to be my
toughest and longest task. Not only for me, but for the other three people.
I had little idea, how I was going to do it. What would I tell them, would they even
follow? Was this going to be another play of tricks on them? Only time would
reveal the answers. Every answer, would unveil another question. A new phrase
replaced my whiteboard, before I dozed off.
“ OBJECTIVE 2: Tighten - Tweak - Tune “.
Chapter 18
Indian School Muscat,
Room No. 302
10th January, 2011
(9: 25 A.M)

Times come in life when you go down to a slump. After having a very hectic time,
you do feel bored. With students, the most characteristic of the times is after our
exams, after our holidays, after the completion of a major project, or the starting of
a new suspension period. In our school, all of these reasons were common, and the
whole faculty knew why.
The new CCE system, applied in our school from the current academic year was
starting to take toll. Seriously, when are students in school, not busy, or not
scolded, or sitting free? Is there anything at all such as a „deficiency of exams or
evaluation procedures.‟? To me, it was one of the most absurd purposes of bringing
in a new system. This topic will hold a spectrum of views, and this is just one of
the colours.
Yes, the CCE plays an important role in my story. It‟s like a contrary statement. It
provides Rishabh and Nishad, an opportunity to forget all about „R@$cally
ReWritten Revelation$‟. On the other hand, all three of us were actually getting
screwed.
The teachers talk about students not being sufficiently challenged, or „exploited „to
their potential.‟ An understatement, in the eyes of many. An announcement on the
senior section intercom followed by a notice sent ripples of terror across the ISM
corridors. Computer practicals, Science practicals, Cycle Test-3, and the formative
assessment activities in 5 subjects, took the total number of evaluation being
conducted in a matter of 22 working days to be an approximate total of 18.
Doomed.
With this, went our hopes, and the race to complete schoolwork before school and
homework before home started. Nishad Sanzagiri, Rishabh Karajgi and Rajat
Asthana were no behind, and the monotony of the books started to hang about in
the recess as well.
This kept playing on my mind, but I had to prioritize, and so did the others. I very
well knew, that, 10th January onwards was going to be a string of boring days.
The silver lining in the clouds was the fact, that, I had Hindi as a subject, while the
other two had French. So, I still used to be able to roam around the corridors in
recess. This was alone a source of great satisfaction, to be able to see that special
face.
In my darkest of moments, when I was overstressed with work, the face did a lot
more than just to make me smile. Words with her, weren‟t a mere conversation,
they were a transformation.
The second recess went in a similar manner that day. I was waiting for school to
get over, not realizing the memory, of another very special friend.
Indeed, the screws had tightened on everyone. I had to tweak them, to my comfort
now. Nishad, and Rishabh, on the other hand, were really feeling the pressure, of
the studies, but above that, the set of codes laid down by me.
TWEAK THE SCREWS, I recalled, looking at both of them, as I boarded the
senseless world of the Mitsubishi 2842.
Chapter 19
Flat-11, 2560
HOME
10th January, 2011
(19:00 P.M)

Sleep is essential for human beings. I reiterated the statement, as I woke up, dazed
and amazed. Winter sleep was unlike any other. The coziness of the blanket had a
caressing affect on the body, and within minutes, you would be engulfed a
profound comfort. My huge house used to amplify this very feeling, as it remained
chilly most of the time. Somehow, I had managed to finish off most of my
homework in school. The remainder had been finished minutes before plummeting
to sleep. Time management wasn‟t something I was very good at. Life‟s race
teaches us everything.
With nothing to do, I once again resorted to being online. Was it my gut feeling, or
intuition, I do not know, but my online timing was rarely a miss for some big news.
In this case, there was no news. Facebook had literally gone dead. Proof, that, an
institution like a school can influence everything. Every unthinkable thing.
Going through my brother‟s album, a chat ping came up. This was surprising. I
didn‟t expect Nishad or Rishabh to come online. It was none, other than my senior
friend, Sidra Waheed.
IT was a little more than a year since we were friends. We both were a part of the
group that went to Egypt, and had become good friends there. Talk about good
friends, they know you. Talk about best friends, they know every bit of you. But,
talk about a support, when none of these two were there, and you know all about
Sidra. It is difficult to define such people. They play a very important role in your
life. Since, she was elder (class 12), she obviously grasped things more efficiently.
Stealth sister would be my nickname for her. Chatting with her made me remind us
of the awesome time we spent in Egypt. Some highs and some lows. Every place
had something to offer, and so did Egypt. Awesome people called „friends‟ to put
it up.
Sidra, “Hello Rajat, long time around! Where have you been? “
Me, “Everywhere on Earth but without your contact. “
Sidra, “You bet! So, something‟s touched my bro deeply? “
Me, “Why would that be?”
Sidra, “Duh! It‟s common sense, Your statuses – „R@$cally ReWritten
Revelation$: small words...small messages...Referring to a whole new state
now...Cunningly coded ;) :D „
January 10 about 4 hours ago “
I wasn‟t actually expecting this to catch her eye. Well, guess different species
understand differently.
Me, “So, even you caught this? “
Sidra, “Yeah, wouldn‟t have gone anywhere from my eyes Mr. Rajat.”
I liked the way Sidra called me that. It used to me give me a sense of the future.
Student life was bad at the moment.
Me, “OK then, what is it that you want? “ I regretted the question, because I
realized it might have been mean. A second later, my fear came true.
Sidra, “Meano! Well, who‟s the person being talked about? Do I know the person?
“
Talk about encounter, and this might have been the biggest one. S for surprised, S
for Sidra. Born resonance indeed.
Me, “Well, the statuses are going to be a clue. Yes, you do know the person, but
not too well. I know that you are not in a position to make out who it is. Still... “
Sidra, “Unfair bro, I‟m going to know in some while who it is. Or Maybe I won‟t.
:( “
I know I had taken advantage of her academic pressure. I felt bad again, but my
impulse controlled me.
Me, “Well, you better understand and enjoy the statuses then. Sorry, there are
some limits that have to be followed. “
Sidra, “No problems. I know you very well. Alright, mom‟s screaming. Bye bye. “

I closed my eyes. I needed help.

Chapter 20

Indian School Muscat

Room No. 311, Class 10-J
11th January, 2011
(11.50 A.M)

Every organism on Earth has a habitat, in which we survive, struggle and emerge.
Managing to remain within your habitat without affecting someone else‟s habitat is
the art of knowing your limits. Recognizing the reasons behind the upset of a close
one is kindness. The independent existence of these two characteristics might seem
enough, but trust Me., it isn‟t. This was a reason I went to other classes and people.
It was because people like Nishad and Rishabh had a combination of all these
characteristics.
The fact is, that, there‟s a general drift of people from one place to another, when,
you don‟t get certain desires fulfilled, within your comfort zone.
Absolutely right, „comfort zone.‟
It seemed that it would take a while for that word to return to our lips. The ISM
corridors during recess had become more like a prison cell. Drastic reduction of
chatterboxes was maybe, one of the reasons. The even bigger reason was the
school work. Homework, class work, enrichment work, project work and so on.
Every soul was involved in a hustle and tussle, a race against time. How was I
roaming around then? Credit for once to my teachers. Lovely leniency.
The day had been a boring one, so far. With not many people left to talk, and many
events left to witness, I was indeed frustrated. Tired, frustrated, and irritated I came
back to my class.
Was the „law of averages‟ that dad had once mentioned really catching up with us?
I did not know if I was in a position to answer that question. Neither did I want to
be.
With much eagerness, I waited for the first Math tuition in 2011. I was surprised,
that a day would come, when you would again reply on academics to soothe your
bores. Times have changed indeed.
Chapter 21

Indian Social Club

11th January, 2011
(18.20 hours)

You never know, what you have to rely on in life. Every bloody thing. This fact
held much relevance as me and Rishabh had decided to drop in for a couple of
games of TT, before heading home.
Talking to people during tuitions had helped me a lot. I felt a lot more energized.
With me and Rishabh having a few games of TT together, I knew, this was the
time, to set my mind, body, intellect, and soul correct.
The Indian Social Club was a popular hangout. Living for about 2 years in Muscat,
I realized I was nowhere acquainted with the place. Cricket, tennis, TT, badminton,
football, basketball and so on. It was thrilling to see small boys fighting and
playing with the spirit of sportsmanship. Looking at younger children, reminds us
of our very own childhood. How, we too would have shown that enthusiasm and
zeal, and how, someone like us, would have been reminded of his or her younger
years. No wonder, it is said, that, sports, is necessary for the body.
Getting a table to play was another hurdle, inside the Indian Social Club. Patience
cracked our way through, and we finally settled down to our first rallies.
Somewhere, in both of our minds, there were questions remaining to be answered,
and answers remaining to be told. The ice soon cracked, and Rishabh, blurted.
Rishabh, “Humm, nice playing man. I had a few questions to ask you.
Me, “Sure.”
Rishabh, ”Your clues, that RRR thing. I‟m not following it too keenly as I rarely
go online. But I saw the latest one. “even the sweetest, humblest and most
illuminated souls can at times, be hidden in the most evil and wicked ways of the
weird., posted today afternoon. “
At once, I realized his error. I corrected him.
Me, “Does this status have the RRR prefix?? “
Rishabh, “Yes, it..... No, it doesn‟t. So, it isn‟t a part of the code. “
Me, “Bulls eye. It isn‟t. “
Rishabh, “Well, may I know what you are referring to then? “
Me, “Sure, it‟s not a part of the code. This actually referred to a depressing
incident in class. Today was a girl‟s birthday. In the 7th period or so, the people at
the back were celebrating her birthday by playing some light games, full of fun and
frolic. The substitute teacher did not like this. The incident was complained to and
the girl‟s name was tainted, on a minor scale. I being her classmate, felt bad. “
Rishabh, “No wonder man. The status fits perfectly. So, this isn‟t a part of the
code, then?
Me, “No, it isn‟t.”
Rishabh, “Anyways, how‟s the person being described doing then?”
Me, “Yeah, doing fine. She has a small cold. “
Rishabh, “Well, what is the way of decrypting the statuses? Is it in the way in
which it is written or something? Substitution or succession techniques?
Me, “I was expecting that question. It isn‟t that way. At least, till now, it isn‟t. You
have to understand the status. One specific part of the status will reveal the clue to
you. “
Rishabh looked on in astonishment. He had a smile on his face that I did not need
to ask about. He himself realized that, with every question, new answers were
coming. The new answers were only going to make this labyrinth of codes to
solve, a more complex way to solve. On our way home, Rishabh muttered to me,
“This whole thing of yours is inspired from a teacher man. Open secret”
I replied, “Check your news feed on FB today. “
Rishabh, “Umm, why is that? “
All I did was smile. He just couldn't understand it, at that time.
Chapter 22

House No.12, Qurum

11th January, 2011
(20:30 P.M)

A busy day for Nishad was coming to its close. The preparations for the major
upheaval of tests and evaluations, that were approaching had started. It was indeed
tiring. Meticulously, he cross-checked his list of 'to-do' things.
There are various ways in which each one of us keeps track of what we are
supposed to do in a day. Some people approach the day with precision planning,
while some people are spontaneous in their actions and execution. Teachers always
advise students to avoid the latter. Students mostly rely on the latter for most part
of their school life. A mixture of the two is necessary in life. We must plan and
move forward, and be ready for any obstacle that might force us to deviate from
our plan. Planning and spontaneous practicality are two things which we were only
learning. Some people are ahead of others in this everlasting process.
Going through his paces, Nishad went through the process. This is what the list
might have looked like. It would appear similar to yours in some ways and
contrasting, in others.

"Shakespeare play: not decided

Computer practicals: later
Science practicals: later
Maths homework: (Permanent cross), just know the basic concept
Chemistry: tomorrow morning, worksheets from the teacher
Physics: In recess
Social Science--> Flipping through pages in 15 mins: done
Geography imposition: 3 pages out of 5 done, 2 remaining in recess
Health imposition: one page out of 5 done, enough for time being
Downloading songs: done
Recharge credit: done
Going online in the afternoon: done
Going online after finishing your work: pending
Solving RRR: NA”
Every list has a priority order. This list too had a priority order, with the things in
the top being the most important. We all know was students that sticking to a plan
is one thing, and sticking to it is another.
It seemed that the coagulation of time in our years had thrusted this tendency into
us.
Whatever the reason, Nishad didn't care. He knew he had to start somewhere, on
the last task of the list. For that, he had to do his only 'pending' task for the day.
The i5 microprocessor roared to life in his laptop, as he waited for it to boot.
Seriously, sometimes, there are twists in life, which require you to not only change
your character, but to also change your priorities. Would this be a transformation,
or only a temporary transition? Nishad had no idea.
On the other hand, Rishabh's wireless modem glared its LED, as he stared to the
outside world, which seemed to make more sense to him, than the one that should
have, of his own best friend.
Chapter 23

Flat-5, Mumtaz Area

11th January, 2011
21.30 hours

Wearing a sweater during summers is an example of peculiar behaviour. Sweating

as a result, is an example of disaster. However, what if the person in the sweater is
as comfortable as the people in the expected clothes?

Rishabh had started to have such a feeling about me. He didn't know what to call it.
He couldn't think of any phrase which could have been referred to my idiosyncratic
behaviour. The fact of the matter is that, this very behaviour at times lays down the
cracks and crevices of a strong foundation. It gives an idea of hiding something
from someone due to some experience. Sadly, many friendships end up like that.
Tracing his own experiences down the memory line, Rishabh considered himself
fortunate. They say, a change in life occurs when you play the same game, with a
different side, or with a different hand.
All these thoughts swirled and twirled in Rishabh‟s mind as he tried to comprehend
the situation ahead of him. “So we have a mad guy, named Rajat, who's my best
friend, who's mad for someone? As a result of his madness, he has started to turn
us mad. “He hit a dead end after that. Rishabh tried the various combinations, but,
truly speaking, sarcasm wasn't hitting today.
He felt odd. He held some sort of an admiration, and a curiosity. After all, I was
not the most popular or best of people around. There was something in those
seemingly small Chinese eyes of mine that reflected something to him.
Rajat is counter culturing the very codes of friendship, and yet keeping us, in this
matrix of shadows and phantasms.
Rishabh had reached his Facebook wall, looking at it, with military dexterity. 10-
15 minutes seemed to pass by, and he was about to log off. The notification he
checked after 5 seconds, sent a shiver, so deeply chilling, that he was afraid, it
would be the last time he'll ever doubt this labyrinth of codes.

On the other hand, the following text replaced my whiteboard, " OBJECTIVE 3:
Wait, watch and wreck.”
Chapter 24
12th January, 2011
Flat-11, HOME
18:00 hours

The first week of school had come to an end. It had been indeed been one of the
most unexpected starts to the New Year. Let‟s say it, that, the New Year is good
for everyone, except students. It‟s even worse for the parents. Most of us don‟t
realize that our aspirations and desires are in direct proportion with what our
parents provide and nurture. Thinking about your parents once in a while, is one of
those things that become a part of your soul, sooner or later.
There are students, who would be concerned about their academic part only. There
would be others who would be looking forward to February 14th. Others would be
eager to make full use of their last few moments with their classmates and for
others; life was its usual routine of timelines and deadlines.
Where exactly do I put my life? This is a question I was asking myself, in line of
the recent developments between the RNR Rascals. We always wanted to remain
friends. Was there a strain? Were the signs of weathering now showing? I don‟t
think so, and never would have. The very reason I‟m writing write now lies within
the soul and expressions of my friends.
Academics were a priority. We all were taking care of that. Friends are not a
priority, they are life. It is the harmonious balance of these two facts, which had
inculcated a three note symphony with us, amongst us, for us.
Thoughts raced through my mind, as Amol cuddled into my lap, adjusting his
position, now and then, so as to make the best of the chance that he got to sleep on
something, of higher elevation, than his bed. His new haircut had made his face
look round, and healthier than ever. I quietly kept him on his bed,
It was only earlier in the day, that, my memory had saved me. I was only pleased
to help out, as I always would. Her amazement at my memory amazed me, her
thank for my favour humbled me. It seemed that Amol‟s mind was onto mine, as
he too smiled in blissful sleep. Why children smile in sleep is something scientists
have been trying to find out. Why scientists bother for such questions is what I
have been trying to find out.
Loads of homework, lessons, revisions, worksheets, projects, evaluations had
obviously surrounded us, and seemed as endless as the expanse of the sky itself.
Technology would once again give vent to my euphoria. The point is that in
friendship, someone‟s satisfaction means someone‟s nightmares. Nishad and
Rishabh were only going to start their respective event schemes, when yet another
pair of my clues mocked the duo.
“R@$cally ReWritten Revelation$: you were appreciative of what I was doing, no
wonder, eye to eye communication works gr8 :D ;) :)
----->missing you by a few fractions of time does prove to be painful, u know d
same, and no wonder, that i keep staring towards light :D ;) “
In a matter of disgust, Nishad muttered, “Nice acting idiot. Nothing like that. “My
connectivity told that somewhere else, Rishabh had slept off and the cat and mouse
game was truly on.
Chapter 25

13th January-14th January

23.58 hours

The weekend is one of the most attractive times, for everyone. Obviously, that is
the case when you're not piled with work. Waking up late, sleeping late, getting a
chance to be out of the normal routine are the general attractions of those 48 hours.
A good outing with the family, going out to eat, spending time with your friends,
or dropping in at each other's house would only be a few of the endless list of fun
things that can be done to de-stress ourselves.
IT had been a blur of time since the morning. No sooner had I got up from my bed,
that I found myself scrambling all over the place to get answers to questions for my
worksheets, exchanging calls and finishing pens like a packet of wafers.
Tomorrow, would be less hectic, but more testing.
The space between time, and an event is the opportunity that we get to express
ourselves. I never really expected it to come, because time's tides wait for none.
However, there's a twist to things.
The fact is that, it is the tension and pace of life, that make us realize the precious
value of time. However, if given, a chance, to experience time at its original flow,
most of us would simply run out of patience.
I would simply not be at any peace tomorrow, and so I dozed off with this in
mind.
“This weekend, like the other ones, which were to come, in 2011 would be
different. For the simple reason, that an endless list of things, exists, only to relieve
your mind. It doesn't exist for the heart. MY heart, which I had felt, for the first
time in my life.
Chapter 26

16th January, 2011

Flat-11, HOME
16.30 hours

I was relieved. One of the tests was at least over. Yesterday was one of the busiest
days yet in 2011. A record breaking horrible 9 hours. School was somewhat
showing its toll, pressure was somehow showing its caressing smiles. I was starting
to have a feeling, that the law of averages that dad often mentioned was going to
catch up with us. Thankfully, we knew the paces ahead.
There are times in life, that we feel, that we're lost. Lost in the ashes of time, lost in
our very own environment, lost in someone. People would say that the 'someone'
follows around with 'everything' and 'everywhere'. I really did not have the time to
think about life, as Nishad had already messaged me 15 times.
Nishad, “I‟m cursing school.”
Me, “This happens during evaluations.”
Nishad, “I have completely lost track of stuff and its whereabouts.”
Me, “Depression dummy, what's wrong? Too hot to handle? "
Nishad, “Humm...well here it is. The work from school is alright. I'm talking about
your clues. All you have described to me, till now, is your feelings. Frankly
speaking, I am going mad."
Me, "Continue."
Nishad," Well, I have started consolidating your statuses. They are in
chronological order, according to date. I have tried to figure out patterns,
succession techniques, representations, everything. It's not that I'm giving up, but,
please be more specific."
Me, "Very well. The time at this moment, is only second in my order of events..our
paths have a common origin, at a distance equal from the starting, would be
another connection..Understand your way through. The next clue is on your way. "
Nishad, “WAaaiit a sec. “Rajat Mastana Asthana is offline.”
A notification beeped up. Nishad seriously expected better. Left in a mist of
misunderstanding, frustration, irritation and curiosity, he banged his fist on his
desk, missing the Toshiba LCD by mere inches. What glared in front of him was
this :-

"R@$cally ReWritten Revelation$: your destiny is written by me .....your fears are

known by me...your desires are felt by me....and so, your happiness today,..your
happiness right now.... is not a mere coincidence, but a trajectory of events
coinciding , that even god can‟t reject it ;) Sunday at 4:40pm”
It would only be a while when Rishabh would see this. I was wondering at this
point, what the consequences could be. Nishad very well knew that this was
someone. Something serious. Patting his laptop to sleep, he lay down on the bed,
and muttered to himself, “I did feel bad when I wasn't able to go to Dubai in
October, 2010. I still feel that I should have gone. He needs to know one thing. He
is surely proving himself the master of life's diplomacy. "
Rishabh, on the other hand, closed down his account in disgust. “Why are we best
friends? Bin Laden‟s better. "
Chapter 27

18th January, 2011

Flat-11, HOME
(23.00 hours)

Sometimes, I feel that students are under so much work pressure that Presidents
and Prime Ministers themselves look like a slouch. Another test was over, and
many more were waiting. It had been an unbelievable day for various reasons. The
amount of work thrusted upon us by the school had increased several folds, and I
had managed to remain alive. Surprising indeed.
Teenage work tendencies are like the opposite poles of the Earth. If you sit down
to work, you feel like finishing off everything in one sitting. This is practically
impossible in today's world, with text beeps, online pings, phone calls, door bells
etc. all around you, a very much, part and parcel of your life.
The other extreme is the desire to sit and work, knowing its importance and yet
having the stentorian, “Just 5 more minutes." This translates into a few hours and
we then return with increased adrenaline levels to complete our work.
Perhaps, it is the fun and frolic of these little time frames, which are embedded as
memories in our soul. Is it memories, or is it time frames that we have paused
purposely, I do not know.
On one extreme, people consider memories as a drag to the past. Others consider it
an essential part of human existence itself. Both should be in a balance, with one
factor checking the other.
Today, as I was going through my registry of memories, a startling fact struck me.
I was very surprised that I had not realized it.
I had again, started to think about her. I rewinded the flow of time back to the same
month of 2010. Looking back on it now, it was a life changer.
I had given my Egypt presentation at around this date. It had sparked off a series of
events, which I can describe, only without words. Was it attention that got me or
hectic times that burdened me, I do not know. All I know is that, what I am today
goes to that presentation on Egypt.
It had been around the same time that I had met her. One year had passed by. I
reminded her, this very thing, and, to my surprise, she remembered the strange
chain of events, which had brought me, face to face with her. I did not have time to
react to that, but it seems that those words were spoken, only yesterday. If I have to
put up the reason of our meeting, then, it would be, right to say, that it was due to a
piece of paper, on which the world depends, on which the world lies.
She had remembered all of this and I had become light headed since then. I knew
that the days coming would be tough, but, moments like these can give you the
push necessary to climb the next hill.
These words had taken place on my profile wall, while Nishad at last noted down
something into his diary. Even he was happy, that he had got one of the clues.

"R@$cally ReWritten Revelation$: having a spent a whole revolution around the

sun in each other's vicinity, it does feel that we are dislocated, and so far, so yet, i
can see the d surprises, such that even i can now start to smile ;) :) :D Tuesday
at 11:10pm”
Chapter 28

Flat-11
HOME
20th January, 2011
22.30 hours

Maths, according to me, is one of those subjects, which can really give you the
essence of life. Each hurdle you cross, gives you more confidence. However,
math's possibilities are infinite, and we can't be a master of all. Life too works in a
similar manner.
Life's possibilities are infinite. It is we who have to make sense out of the data we
perceive, and tread our paths.
To some of us, this subject would seem a wicked one, involving manipulation,
logic and one which shows no mercy. Relaxation and leniency are important
attributes of life as well.
As I hoped to do well, in tomorrow's test, a startling fact struck me.
Why is it that, even the loss of the smallest fraction of marks in Maths, doesn't hurt
as bad as it would in any other subject?
Confused, I looked to the heavens for the answer. It was a full moon brightly,
shining with all its might. Slowly, a cloud came and covered the moon. Nature has
answers to everything.
I came inside and realized that when we truly love a creation in this universe, its
smallest movements become our moments, and its slightest hurdle becomes our
life's pain.
Indeed, emotions are the magnification of man.
Chapter 29

ISM grounds
Indian School Muscat
23rd January, 2011
15.00 hours

I'm surprised that I remember this very day, and that too, its timing. It's strange,
that how the most unexpected of places have life's worth of memories. The fact
was today reflected upon by a rare phenomenon in Muscat.
It is that process which triggers the happiness of the farmer, the joy of the children,
the relief of the adults and a breath of nature in its fury, to all of us. It seemed that
the heavens too wanted to join hands in celebration of our Tests getting over.
Although, there was a much more rigorous schedule awaiting us in the next few
days, we knew that we had to make use of the last few days, to our optimum best.
Sharing the rain with your friends is an experience like no other. It washes away
the phantasm that we all have learnt to keep so well on our faces, and reveals a true
individual.
The scene of people running for shade is only a tease to the mere fact, that they
enjoy the rain as well. This rain was memorable, simply because, I had walked in
it, drenched myself in it, and allowed every drop to reach the core of my heart,
while my own Heart watched me enjoy the rain and laugh at me. That smile, was
enough to overpower the deluge of rain which occurred that day.

"R@$cally ReWritten Revelation$: the rain brings down memories, moments...The

only ones which might be destined for us, and if. I‟m... ANYWHERE near...the
dance of that one raindrop...... ;) :) :D"
Chapter 30

Flat-11
HOME
24th January, 2011
15.00 hours

The change of weather brings everything along with it. Included in this package, is
a global irritant. The cure to this disease would seriously be one of the biggest
breakthroughs in medical science. Which ever authority is able to do so, should
have an award in their name. I say this as an understatement. Common cold had
once again proved its prowess, by establishing yet another kingdom of sneezing,
coughing, blocked noses, changed voices and disturbed souls.
Seeing those lively faces enveloped in this gloom had a depressing effect on me as
well. The very harmony of life seemed to be at its lowest. People talk about human
catastrophe, and I rate, common cold as one of the worst in the category.
I too was very much used to this disease. I once had a cold which lasted for 4
months. Not a good memory at all.
I realized that a bad memory is like a cactus in any place, any other, than desert.
No matter how, how beautiful the landscape would be, the cactus remains a sign of
danger. Bad memories function in the same way.
A good memory is like a tree in a desert. You want to cling onto it amidst all
storms, until you see the next tree.
It was through this comparison that I realized that life was all about making
memories. This is true, because there will be a time, when the branch on which we
cling on to, breaks and we fall down on life's ground.
I had seen her today. She had fever, and was in utter discomfort. My intuitive
connectivity activated to full speed, as I felt that she would not be able to spend the
whole day in school. A disease on someone looks bad, and on a loved one, it looks
like death. Emotions are the best dimension of human analysis.
Two hours later, my inference was confirmed by her. I came to know that she had
gone home after the second recess. As I asked about her well being, she herself
seemed amazed at the precision of the inference I had made in school. She had no
idea, that there many more such moments were on the way. I settled into my
afternoon nap, with the following words on my profile:-
"R@$cally ReWritten Revelation$: seeing you at the end seemed like it was all
well, seeing you in the beginning seemed like i'll never see you in
The end...and as the temperature rises...The feverish feeling of anxiety just keeps
increasing... ;) :) :D"
God knows what Nishad had extracted out of the status, but what I knew was that,
he was being stretched to his limits. I had to be careful. The extent, to which a
group can hold hands and increase the distance between them, is known as
friendship. Breaking these bonds, was something, my life could not afford. The
next few days were going to be crucial.
Chapter 31

25th January, 2011

House -12, Qurum
15.30 hours

Lassitude had engulfed Nishad as he recollected every ounce of energy left in him,
to pick up his diary. It was lying at a mere distance of several feet. However, at
that point of time, it seemed agonizingly far. What may seem like help from far
off, can actually prove to be another obstacle at close distance. Somehow, he
scrambled back to his bed with the diary in his hand. He swore under his breath
that it would be one of the strangest diaries he had ever made. It didn't consist of a
word about him. It had diagrams, deciphering attempts, bubbles, replacement
diagrams etc. It seemed to be the notebook of a lunatic. Surely, the purpose of
using that notebook had a reason much deeper, much more important than anything
he could think of at that point. Life has to be balanced, and he automatically felt
the other weight activate the equilibrium.
This was supposedly one of the last weeks of school. Soon after, our mock exams
were to follow, and everyone would see less of each other.
Tracing back to the start of class 9 and class 10, Nishad recalled that 2010 had
been the most influential year till date. The RNR Rascals, a best friend and some
distant catching up, with his own pals from Abu Dhabi. This had been one of the
best years.
Class 10J of 2010-2011 had become a jewel in his heart. A priceless memory,
which he would hold on to, for the rest of his life. There were only a few more
days remaining and the most had to be made out of them. With a united effort, the
class had been able to finalize their plans for a class picnic on the 27th. Nishad felt
in unanimous agreement, that it was one of the most memorable moments of his
life.
Yet, as he wanted to fast forward to the 27th, he knew had another very important
job at hand.
Decoding my statuses was truly a herculean task. See, if you were to place yourself
in the shoes of Nishad and Rishabh, you would realize the fact that, 'Being a retard,
is fun. Being a hooligan is amazing. Being the best friend of both is horrible. '
Nishad had been spending quiet some time on my clues now. He wasn't getting
anywhere. Cross with himself, and frustrated, he scribbled onto a new page of his
diary, in red ink, "RRR: PP till 28th... Part-2 of decoding starts from 29th”
Nishad stopped expecting from himself. I decided that a lesson was to be taught.
Chapter 32

26th January, 2011

Flat-11, Mumtaz
HOME
16.20 hours

Our life at various moments can be compared to that of a diamond. There would be
a time, when we would want to hide, to protect ourselves, or someone else, as the
owner of a diamond does.
The other scenario is when we want to shine at our brightest, at our best, showing
everyone what we are capable of.
More often than not, people are scared of polishing their life, as they're afraid of
being blinded by the same shine.
Yet another fear is the inability to shine. A true diamond, will shine, at sometime,
at someplace.
In this selfish quest of polishing the diamond we all adore, we often forget the very
people who helped us find that diamond.
I felt asphyxiated as I knew that it had been quiet some while since I had
established contact with Maryne or Sidra. Sidra was obviously busy in her
preparations, and there was no question of disturbing her. Maryne's recent news of
shifting, and the turmoil in the Middle East were two separate issues, that I did not
want to relate. Sidra was one the most important people, I had known. My
immediate friend circle had increased due to her initiative, and was rightly so-my
Senior. Maryne on the other hand was someone, behind the scenes. Advice,
solutions, tips and humour comprised our close partnership. Day by day, more
could be conveyed and understood in fewer words.
Being one of the last weeks of school, I wanted each and every day to be working.
Every moment, that I could fill my heart with, seemed to lie in these last few days.
No wonder, I hated such holiday spans. Moreover, it was her glimpse, which
would make me happy. It would give me the energy that no one else could. It
would bring a smile on my face-something which had to be priced out of me.
Today was India's 61st Republic Day. A busy day had gone by, but the youthful
patriotism that usually flows in your veins on the eve of a national festival was
absent.
Nishad's class was heading for the class picnic. I felt happy, jealous, angry and sad
at the same time. Yet another clue flashed through my mind, which would help me
beat the blues.
I had taken note of the fact that Nishad had let his guard down. He was easily
going to miss, one of the better clues from my side. Little did he know, that it
would cost him another 576 hours, for giving up, today.

R@$cally ReWritten Revelation$: I see dead ends today, u see happy pastures
tum-awe-row...i see last moments after that...u see the final goodbye in sorrow... a
chain of events...Agreed to...and i wish i was part of u 2... ;) :) :D
Chapter 33

27th January, 2011

Flat-11, Mumtaz
HOME
13.20 hours

"ONE...TWO...THREE...FOUR...FIVE" I tried again.

"ONE...TWO...THREE...FOUR...FIVE". I washed my face in cold water, cleaned
my glasses, and counted again. "ONE...TWO...THREE...FOUR...FIVE”. It wasn't
working.
Every single time, I had tried to extend that count on the calendar, but it seemed
that time's walls were now truly close. There were just five more working days left,
till our mock exams started. The fact dawned upon me, today morning.
I had been so engrossed in my own matters that I had seriously forgotten about my
classmates. The opposite wasn't true, and a sudden guilt germinated deep inside
me. I had come to this very class, these very people, on the 3rd of May, 2009. They
seemed complete strangers then. Today, they've given me my identity-"Mastana".
From fun, frolic, fights, discussions, senseless rhymes to conspiracies and
mysteries, Class 9B and Class 10B had it all.
I closed my eyes, and recalled the fun that our class had. From some awesome
mimicry, to the permanent state of trance after recess; from the lunch stealing and
complaining to the truth and dare games, we had seen it all, felt it, enjoyed it, and
recorded a full copy of those times
in our minds, hearts and souls. A headache erupted, as memories came crashing
down on me.
Had I been able to anticipate my eventual proximity with these people, I would
have been much better prepared for this sudden rush of guilt. Such moments are
often encountered in life. Yet, every experience with people is so different, that we
don't really learn from our mistakes.
I was surprised to find myself in such a situation. This was because; people like me
were expected to be immune to such things. This was my fifth school and I had
obviously segregated life into only the most essential, individual, processes.
Friends and fun had been out of the window.
It had been a week after Rishabh's class had gone for the class picnic. AT this
moment, Class 10J was also enjoying its moments together. I had called up Nishad,
only to hear the holler from behind. What an amazing feeling it must have been.
Rishabh too had a given a vivid description of the fun they had, and I was left
envying them and cursing myself.
My class had been left out for the class picnic, in the senior section. It was the last
month or so, which had eliminated all our chances. This had created unprecedented
anger. But, it had also united us. We were determined to maintain relations, as long
as we were in the ISM corridors. Many people were leaving, many more would
come. Only footprints were to remain.
It seemed to me, that I was trapped in a circle. There's only a certain point till
which you can go, in a circle. Beyond that, you end up closer than ever before.
Time too coagulates and so do we.
What I jotted down now, was an expression of my feelings, and yet another clue, in
the matrix that Nishad and Rishabh would soon find themselves entangled in.

"R@$cally ReWritten Revelation$: happiness comes in pastures, in water, in fresh

air ...in fixtures, everywhere: D”
Chapter 34

29th January, 2011

Flat-11, Mumtaz
HOME
19.50 hours

There are times in life, when you will have two contrary emotions for the same
reason or same objective. It is usually referred to as a head and heart split. In such
a situation, every suggestion and every comment seems a blur. The ability to take
bold decisions is tested. I had only started this inevitable process. At such stages,
we might also hear flatulent examples of guidance, and not be able to distinguish
the genuine wisdom, which resides in such experiences.

I had no idea, what I wanted to do. I wanted to rest, work, and study and enjoy at
the same time.
In such a situation, silence is often the best help. I put this very theory to test. My
eyes closed momentarily and my brain entered a meditative state.

The flashback of the past few days started at a breathtaking speed, as my senses
tried to scan for highlights from my memory. This is one of the most time taking
and patience consuming tasks.
I had forgotten to keep track of Rishabh, and yet another pinch of guilt pricked me.
He had shifted houses, and was mostly busy in doing the last minute changes. How
he had managed to live without his mother for such a long period of time was
something I'd have to learn from him. Every experience in life counts, as Rishabh
said once.
Nishad's class had a fantastic picnic. An awesome day of fun and frolic is how the
class would have put it, and rightly so.
At the same time, I was disappointed that our class couldn't have such a moment
together. I quickly brushed aside the feeling, and looked at Amol. He stood there,
smiling, and rushed into my arms. Somehow, our relation proved, that size didn't
matter, and that, it is from the most unexpected places, that, answers to the
strangest mysteries and questions come. The following words flashed through my
mind, and took the form of my next status.

"R@$cally ReWritten Revelation$: admiration and resistance are two opposite

poles...having to bear them in the same heart nearly...Tears me apart ;) :): D
Saturday at 8:02pm"
About 14 km away, Nishad looked at these words and confessed, “This is exactly
how I feel...exactly." He now felt, that the job was going to be much easier. In a
rush of excitement, he took out his diary, and noted down something, which only
he could understand.

Amol obviously tried to convey this to my mother, “I put Rajat to sleep. I know
I‟m awesome.”
Chapter 35

1st February, 2011

Flat-11, Mumtaz
HOME
19.00 hours

THREE...TWO...ONE...
THREE...TWO...ONE...
THREE...TWO...ONE...

It kept ringing in my ears. Again and again, I realized that only three days
remained in the current academic year. The past two days had been a blur, in a race
to submit
Notebooks, evaluations etc. on time, to complete the pre-requisite formalities
before giving the mock exams.
This really wasn't the change of pace I had hoped for. Yet, it had all happened in
what can be described as a 'slow swiftness'. A period, where you doubt if you are
truly in control of yourself. As individuals, self control is practiced by all of us in
different manners. Each of us has a regulatory system, which controls our
emotions.
The people, who are called emotional, are those that show this balancing process to
the world. The opposite applies for the people who don‟t show emotions.
However, the existence of emotions cannot be questioned. They exist, within each
and every soul. These emotions, combined with your mind form the control center
of our body. This unique combination can be utilized in a constructive manner, or
can be used to spread terrorism.
When I thought this, I realized, Amol isn‟t actually a terrorist. He‟s a cutie with
permission to spread seemingly cute forms of terror.
At such a cross road, it is often this very decision that separates wisdom from
knowledge.
Knowledge will help us, on our path. But it won‟t tell, if it is the correct path or
not.
Amidst, all this, one fact, hit me hard today. I was only going to get three more
days to see her. Only three more days. After that, my vision would be cut out. The
only means of communication would be, through a telephone or through the
Internet. Perhaps, the most valuable means of communication would be, inside the
heart, inside the soul.
This was one of those times, where I wanted time to freeze. One of those times,
where, I sat and thought, “If only I was allowed to ". The whole chain of events,
from the first feeling, till today, had been surprising. It is like understanding from
nowhere, friendship from nowhere.
I very well knew that the days ahead would be hectic. Our mock exams started on
5th February, and I had to start my preparations. The next few days, were going to
be of pure isolation. I felt lost. A tear rolled out from the corner of my eye, as the
following process brought me to a distant equilibrium.

"R@$cally ReWritten Revelation$: closing within are the narrow gaps of

time...broadening
within is the desperation...and...as every last attempt will SURELY go in vain...all
I get in return..Is... That smiling arrow of pain :) ;) :D February 1 at 7:21pm “
Chapter 36

12th February, 2011

Flat-11, Mumtaz
HOME
13.00 hours

HIP HIP HORRAY!! The mock exams were over. No one was as relieved as the
Class 10 students of Indian School Muscat. The span of 11 days had gone by in a
blur. This was the very thrill of examinations. However, the exams that I wrote
were approached in a different manner. The same applied for Rishabh as well, but
not so for Nishad. So, what was different?
Well, we wrote 5 exams. Out of those 5 exams, I and Rishabh studied together for
four exams. The only subject we didn't study together for was the second language.
Rishabh had French and I had Hindi.
The very name of French reminded me of my experience with the subject. I had
chosen French as my second language in class 6. In class 7, my French teacher ran
away. Yes, ran away. Not resigned, or changed school, but ran away. That was fine
with me. However, the next part would make me hate two languages at once.
I would have to study Sanskrit, in class 7. This meant catching up with the class 6
portions, and competing at the same level. Nasty indeed. Since that day, I have
hated French and Sanskrit.
All of us have moments in life, where we hate certain things, just because of our
first and last experience with them. On the contrary, there might be times, when we
argue against the statement: "The first impression is the last impression" and hope
for another chance.
The world is merciless, and sooner or later, we too become a part of this very
ruthlessness. Times come, when we consider things for face value. At other times,
we take things for their quantity.
A very good example of this can be considered in the normal sphere of school life.
There are people who boast of having multiple friend circles, with friends going
into the late hundreds at times. However, there comes a transition, when the
number of friends gradually reduces, to a handful. In short, quality beats quantity,
each and every time.
Rishabh's mom would be coming in two days. He was excited. It was in these days,
that I and Rishabh knew better of each other. There are a lot of things, that were
exchanged, new secrets unveiled, new aspirations told. We really made good use of
time.
On the other hand, it was a big relief for Nishad as well. With everything over, he
could devote more of his time and energy to solve the seemingly impossible code
set before him. He flipped through the pages of his diary, and said, “Decoding
starts from tomorrow. It's only a matter of time now. "

However, I thought differently. I had no idea, if I was being unfair. What I knew
was that, every road has an end, and so would this one.
Chapter 37

14th February, 2011

Flat-11, Mumtaz
HOME
22.30 hours

Happy Valentine‟s Day. I had repeated that word, many a times today. I said it for
the first time, to myself. There were two reasons behind this.
The first reason had been the message that I learnt today, "Make more
Memories”, from an ex-ISMite, who was working in Apple. It had been a valid
enough reason.
The second reason was that, I considered my own life, as my valentine. I was just
reflecting on it, and polishing it by wishing myself happy Valentine‟s Day.
Some would say that I am very optimistic, while others would express the fact that
the world does not run on such principles.
The answer to that question would be; it is you, who has to live in the world, not
the world living inside you. That‟s God‟s profession.
The media plays a very important role in shaping your mood for a particular event,
or instant. Information about St.Valentine and other details regarding the day
flooded the periodicals and magazines weeks before today. Hence, the little
curiosity or joy, that one should experience, is eroded.
With practically nothing to do, I moved my mind, thinking what Maryne and Sidra
would be doing. I soon remembered that today was a day when girls shouldn't be
disturbed. You might become the worst person on Earth for them, for destroying
one of their dream bubbles.
Why girls have such extreme behavior is a question that has been asked many
times. The answer, that I know is, that “God does not have an answer. Why do you
bother?"
Jokes apart, the latter half of humanity does play a major role in our life. It is
seemingly true, that a woman is able to perform more roles, than a man possibly
could.
I laughed at myself, at my own thoughts. Already, a huge dilemma surrounded me,
on my stream choice in class 11. Such thoughts often made it even worse. This is
because, during a dilemma, you end up believing the wrong things, more often
than not.

Time now, raced with my thoughts. I was indeed surprised, that I was doing this,
but as the lights of my room, went off for yet another period of an eerie silence, the
fluorescent writing on my whiteboard revealed itself.
“OBJECTIVE 4: THE END OF RRR”

Nishad was sleeping comfortably, at the moment. I thought of conveying this to

him, but felt sorry for him. After all, these hours of sleep, would be his last, in the
next 96 hours.
Chapter 38

16th February, 2011

House-12,
Qurum
15.05 hours

Tell me, that it‟s a joke. Tell me it‟s a joke. This is so unfair.
Nishad, raced up and down in his apartment. He looked at the walls and felt like
smashing them to pieces. He felt, he was being denied, the very opportunity that he
created, and that to, due to someone else. That someone else was no one else but
Rajat Asthana, his recent best friend. The news had come crashing down upon him.
Talking about the worse upsets of 2011 and this topped the list. He had been in
such a good mood, early morning, and was utterly disgusted to be greeted by this
development. If I had told this one the phone, or being physically present tin front
of him, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be writing these words.
He had been full of enthusiasm, eager to make progress on phase-2 of the decoding
process. All the codes were consolidated chronologically. They were separated
neatly, by their similarities, by the possible pointers, and the possibilities. He was
going to run out of pages, in his diary. Now, he was going to run out of patience.
After logging on, he checked his inbox. To his surprise, it was the source of the
disappointment that he was suffering from.
"Rajat Mastana Asthana: RRR shuts in three days. Now or never." 5 minutes ago.
Nishad felt at a vicarious sense of loss. He was disappointed. This clearly felt like
betrayal. He had trusted himself, trusted his own ability to crack this, and, all this
now, seemed to be crashing down. A well known migraine-like headache flared up
as he struggled to keep himself calm.
Assistance comes in two ways, in life. One is a push, which helps you start your
journey. One is a push, which helps you complete your journey.
At this point, Nishad could not locate any reason for him to think of this drastic
step as assistance.
My Panasonic-Cordless had beeped several times. I very well knew that silence
was the way forward. It would be my form of communication.
In a deluge of emotions, Nishad made a last attempt, on my profile, vowing that he
would never open it again. However, what he saw almost numbed him.

"R@$cally ReWritten Revelation$: Rascally rEwritten revelations...does have

Exciting meanings...only if u looked out of your Bag of books Or tickle your
Kaleidoscope of conscience...
February 15 at 11:19pm”

That is so insulting!! Why wouldn't he....

What he saw wasn't another insult to him. It brought him, back to life, to some
extent. In an awe and amazement that he could not describe, Nishad sat staring at
his 15-inch LCD.
"You are a rascal. You will always be. Why don't I get it? ", is what he muttered to
himself, and he brought a smile on his face.

“Written above is the last RRR textual clue. I will upload three pictures, which will
be a clue as well. The last two graphics will indeed be the last DIAMONDS of
RRR. Graphic Number 1:-

After seeing this, he smirked, “Impossible just got a visual definition. “

Chapter 39

17th February, 2011

House-12, Qurum
HOME
02.05 hours

I was not feeling comfortable. I had tried searching for the answer, and reached the
question, “If none of these people are able to crack the code, what impression
does it have on our friendship? Will the RNR Rascals remain how they were, last
year? Will we remain so open to each other, and be able to tell, what is ought to be
told? Were the roots of secrecy, revenge and isolation going to settle down deep
within us, and split the group?” This was the last thing I wanted. I tried to sleep. I
knew I couldn‟t. My restlessness got me to work.

The clock beep indicated the second hour of 17th February. Nishad looked at the
clock, hoping it would stop. He stared at himself, in the mirror, hoping to see the
mirage of a smiling and laughing himself, which was lost somewhere. The reason
for this temporary loss wouldn't be me. That was clear.
I myself had told Nishad, "You would have got it by now. You're trying too hard."
These words seemed ironical. It seemed, that the harder he tried the more
meaningless and dumbfounded he had became. What sort of a code was this? For
the past 39 days, all these questions had required an exegesis from my side. All
that Nishad got in return was silence.
Papers were scattered all around him. Neat diagrams, flowcharts, differences,
repeated usage, character usage, time, date, events, timelines and so on. He had
done everything possible in cryptography to crack the code.
All Nishad was able to understand was, that, it was someone he knew. Someone,
who's name should have struck. It was about a year, since I knew the person. A
very happy nature, a lovely smile, short on words, but much on within.

These were small, clues, about the person.

Nishad could make an easy comparison. If a needle was to be found in a haystack,
then my clues were like a sheet of paper, telling you that the needle is made of
metal.
He tried to trace back his oblivion. It was the fifth time that he looked through
everything. Not a thing made sense. Before sleeping, he decided to go online. It
had only been minutes, and what he saw, left him gaping on his desk. He slept off,
in that exact same position, with his mind and soul, in the most terrible mess.
“So this one can‟t be solved until the previous one is. The code can‟t be solved
until he is kidnapped. I am nearing nervous breakdown. Some freaks, are ever
ready to mock you. Good morning, idiot.”
Chapter 40

18th February, 2011

House-12, Qurum
HOME
05.05 hours

Tired, exhausted, and completely lost. Nishad felt as if he had woken up from a
stream of unconsciousness, to a new birth. The morning sunlight, made its first
impressions, as the fog outside Nishad's window, created a paradise like
atmosphere.
He had slept for 13 hours on the trot yesterday. When he woke up, he found his
Toshiba laptop too hot to bear. His skin bore red rashes. He quickly doused the
laptop, and sat down, pondering.
What had happened and why? Nishad felt helpless. Today was the last day of
RRR. After 40 days of mouth watering moments, endless attempts, scientific
dexterity and tireless commitment, he was sad to see himself on the bottom of the
mountain. More than being ashamed of himself, he felt sorry for me.
There is something, which is more important to him, than life itself. He is
suffering. He has laid out every clue for us to see, to move forward, but I have
failed. I am not sure what I would tell Rajat, and I‟m not too sure that he would be
laughing all the while.

The emotional overload that he was going through seemed ironical to the sunrays,
which shone like God's own head. The scene that stood before him was supposed
to fill him with zeal and enthusiasm, like no other. An eternal source of energy,
which would just never cease to amaze you. Nature had been Nishad's biggest
friend. Whenever depressed or silent, nature's mechanisms had helped him restore
the lost energy in hi. More importantly, it had taught him to fight back.
But, maybe, today, the answer didn‟t lie with nature. He was angry with himself,
and felt terrible for me. He was more in sorrow, than in anger.
He had the last status or clue, embedded in his memory, and he wrote it down, as a
symbolic marker.
He went into the small temple, his mom had made. Looking at the crossed out
calendar dates, he crossed out 18th February. RRR was over. A secret, that even if
told, was lost forever, in the deep dungeons of time.

He saw a sheet of paper. He turned it around, to find an article on Emotional

Control. He took the article, and started editing the passage, and started copying it
onto another piece of paper. This article was different from others. It was wacky in
the sense, that it had all sorts of punctuation errors. Capital letters, in the middle of
sentences, no full stops, meaningless lines, etc. Also, the number of such errors
was to be counted. What a herculean task.
It was one of his favourite pastimes. He had no idea, when his dad had brought this
one. In a hope of diverting his mind, he started.

As he tried to focus, he spoke to himself," So CrAzY becomes crazy, which is

three. DoWn fr0m up, becomes down from up...Again three...I guess it means
some height. Lame...Humm. Yeah. And this word becomes..."
Nishad looked at what he was doing. He reread it. Suddenly, a glimmer of hope
came piercing through his blank mind. He switched on his laptop, and waited for it
to load.
He looked at the last page in his diary. Ok, I need to confirm. Thoughts raced
through Nishad's mind, as he waited for the i5 microprocessor to launch the gadget
into full operation. The i5 microprocessor did operations of the order, 100 to the
power 100 in one second. Yet, it felt slow for him. An eerie silence took its place,
as Nishad, went online, and cross checked his diary.

"R@$cally ReWritten Revelation$: Rascally rEwritten revelations...does have

Exciting meanings...only if u looked out of your Bag of books Or tickle your
Kaleidoscope of conscience...
February 15 at 11:19pm"

Yes, he had copied it down correctly. Now, his hope peaked. He looked at his
watch. It was 6.15. He closed his eyes, prayed to God and looked at the status.
"Rascally Rewritten....Rascaly Rewritten." over and over, 5-6 times.
He was about to close his diary again, and lie down in disappointment, when
something caught his eye.
"Wait a minute, the way this is written doesn‟t seem normal. He looked again.
Nishad copied the status in word, and increased the size to reconfirm. He wanted to
make sure he wasn't hallucinating." He wrote something down onto a piece of
paper and checked.
The next 5 seconds, filled the air, with the loudest scream, that anyone would have
heard in years. "YES, I GOT IT!"
Nishad, again confirmed, and now, he was sure, that he had got it. "Damn it, how
didn't I see this. The capital letters in the status make a code.

"R@$cally ReWritten Revelation$: Rascally rEwritten revelations...does have

Exciting meanings...only if u looked out of your Bag of books Or tickle your
Kaleidoscope of conscience..."
If the capital letters alone are extracted, this is what we get " RRR: REEBOK". The
middle letter 'B' referred to a bag. This meant that it was someone with a Reebok
bag. Yes, yes.
In a rush of excitement, Nishad went to my profile. Over there, he found a
message, waiting for him, right beside the first graphic, that I had uploaded.

"Eliminate waste from the bottom of your minds. All the best :) "

Suddenly it struck Nishad. He made the graph, which was present in the first
picture in his notebook.

1 2 3 4 5 6
11 12 13 14 15 16
21 22 23 24 25 26

“If we delete, the last line, according to the message, then, we're left with numbers
till 26. The number of letters in the English alphabet.”
“9/13" in visible simplicity. The number of characters in the graph, after deleting
the line is 18. Double of 9. Then, it struck like another flash of lightning. The
world's order had been reversed...meaning to flip the whole alphabet around.

Nishad punched the wall as hard as he could. It was this simple.

The clue was, that, Z=26, Y=25...and so on till A=1.
Nishad stood amazed at the coding. He was amazed at how brilliantly I had
disguised it. “Impeccable perfectionist...genius!"

Something stopped him dead short. The second picture, the diamond of RRR. He
looked at it, once again. Now, his heart beat truly escalated.
With meticulous precision, he substituted each letter or number with the
corresponding number or character. He substituted the whole graph. "Humm,
maybe that didn't work. In-pin-safety pin...Okk, this is strange. If we connect, the
fourth box from every side, we get a diamond“. Nishad looked on in amazement.
He was shocked. At last, he knew who it was.

In a hurry, I received a message on my wall. I was already awake, and expected it.
"I figured it out. To talk it in code, it‟s referring to Identity Code: 59910111. A
person with a Reebok bag. "
He had taken precaution, to cover the identity. I smiled, and replied, “You found it.
Congrats. Let‟s not mention it over here, as you‟re not operating on secure lines of
communication, are you?" I heard him laugh, and I felt nice.
Nishad was stunned. He looked on, in amazement, in a shock, and awe, that would
grip him, for some time to come. This code had come to an end, and what a
blockbuster of events it had been. After 40 days, and hours of work, the solution
had been as simple as that. With full humility and respect, Nishad said,
“You are one Rascal for sure. Now, it's time to let the person know. I'm just
amazed. I actually don't appreciate people, but here I am. Take it man, take it."
Nishad was sure, that such an ingenious code would not exist, again. He was sad,
that it was over. He knew he would miss the excitement. At least, he knew the
answer to a mystery, which mattered more than life itself. At least, he knew, that „I
had laboriously planted, every seed, and he had made it, Rascally Revealed. It was
only a matter of time, when Rishabh too, came to know.
The tantalizing tale didn't come to an end, after that. It still continues, and it always
will. It might be a thing of the past, for the RNR Rascals, who proved themselves
as a “TERREFIC TRIO”. There are two things which always remain intact for us:
Life and the very passion to live it.
Epilogue

ISM Corridors
9.30 hours

I stared, at the small soft toy that I had got. As soon as I got it, I said, “See I
guessed it. Mind reading.” After a while, she handed me a medium sized medal,
saying, “Don‟t you want it back?” While taking it, I said, “You can keep it, if you
want to.” She stood there, and smiled. Our conversation continued, and I was
suddenly asked, “Rajat, one second, those statuses, that you put up. Whom do they
refer to? I looked; straight, trying to cook up an answer. I replied, "Oh, they refer
to someone. You noticed how rainy it seems today? Good weather right? “

I knew that Nishad and Rishabh were a few feet away, looked on as they shared a
burger and said to each other, “Why not reduce an idiot from this Earth?” The
recess ended and we rushed back.

Next recess, another conversation stuck up, and I said, “Remember A.D.S?
Anything-Anytime-Anywhere Demand Service? "
She replied, with a yes, and we laughed at some peculiar stuff. It was pleasing.
The bell rung and I went to talk to Nishad.

I looked down on my stopwatch, noting the total time, I had talked with her. With a
gentle beep, it boldly said: 00:02:07. Rishabh and Nishad came alongside and
asked, “So, how‟s life man? “ I ate a sandwich and said, “Good man, I have a
hundred and twenty seven moments to remember. “ Nishad threw some water on
my face in disgust, and said, “What an achievement Mr. Rajat.”

Soon enough, the RNR Rascals tore after one another, with echoes across the ISM
corridors. Alongside, she laughed and looked on.

-M@$+@/\/@
 MEMORIES….

Names in Alphabetical Order*

AMOL ASTHANA – MY BROTHER
MARYNE AQUARONE
NISHAD SANZAGIRI
RISHABH KARAJGI
SIDRA WAHEED
RAJAT ASTHANA – THE AUTHOR
AND, HOW CAN I FORGET
THE GIRL I HAVE BEEN
TALKING ABOUT IN THIS
BOOK.

HERE SHE IS. 

IT’S BEEN MY EYES, BUT
YOUR PERCEPTION.

YOU DECIDE.