Tuesday, 30 June 2015

The 'Scapegoat' Verdict



...It wasn’t much of a business party, although all the members of the law firm Burnswick and Burnswick had gathered for one. The Scapegoat case had not yet drowned out, and the lawyers had more of a conference, than a recreational party. Sundays were not anymore Sundays.
The primary litigation papers didn’t even give an insch of a taste of a case, than would prolong for more than eight months. It talked of a massive Zucculini company, native to Italy, which had an important outlet in the outskirts of Seville. Although being a multi-national chemical company for ship equipments since 1998, it now possessed a tarnished impression.
It was the summer of May 2012, when the city rumours gained momentum. There had been too many reports of the firm disposing untreated toxic waste in the Mallorca River. But the 21st of May created a major outburst, as the city had its first cancer death. To make matters worse, the victim was the head of the parish- the Honourable Mattia Bernardo.
As the weeks flew by, the death toll raised to fifty. Rumours heated up, accusations towards Zucculini grew severe. At last, under Justice Dominique Brommel, the case was taken to Burnswick and Burnswick’s attorney of lawyers. It was then forwarded to the Supreme Court.
Justice Brommel, the prosecutor , was an idle city lawyer a year ago. He was now the country’s sensational man in black. Although the entire Seville was at his knees, begging for victory, the young, auburn-haired man felt that all odds were against him. The country had experienced tons of cases, where victory went against the victim, and Brommel didn’t want this case to stack up with others, in the history books.
Carson Harrington, 26 criminal records, 5 unknown, sat with an Egyptian cigar, on his seat, in the office of Zucculini Inc. Although the firm had the name of his brother, Nathaniel Zucculini, he had willed it to Carson, after his accidental death by tripping over the bridge in drunken conscience (his body was never found). Carson looked like any other white, but his records behaved like a perfect villain. Villainy was uncommon to him, but his firm had slipped away two previous cases, by ‘donations’ to the District Court. But this was not all fun and games. Their defence lawyer was a tough nut, but the whole country was against him.
Justice Marcel Carreras, who had already managed eighteen lawsuits, two for Zucculini, was having a hard time consoling Carson the ifs and buts of defending a firm. Burnswick and Burnswick was known for its adept verdicts, and it was head to toes invincibility from its part.
...The conference carried the motion of the same case, and the head justice, Hon’able Mr. Mirkle, weighed the load on his head. He had experienced ten district cases, before being promoted to the Supreme Court for the running motion. Ten days to go for the final verdict, and the ‘conference’ proved to be an essential gathering of B&B experts. Fourteen lawsuits had been filed, and the fifteenth would be the decisive one. It would either be the end of, or the escape of Zucculini Chemicals.
There were no eyewitnesses to Zucculini’s discharge of contaminants, but there were five evidences in human. Witnesses look great on paper, but the courtroom is the real test. Rebellion against a multi-national company is not at all like King Arthur fighting with an Excalibur.
...Five days drifted past the building of Carson, and the nerves began to twitch profusely. He had appealed twice in the court, but to no avail.
...The courtroom filled in an hour. An ovation was given to Hon’able Head Justice Mirkle. The accused Carson and his right-hand arrived at last, only to be showered by agitating glances by the public. At the prosecution’s desk sat Justice Brommel, against defence lawyer Carreras.
Brommel revised the facts and facets of the famously called Scapegoat case, rightly named so, for the chemical company made people its scapegoats, and listed the victim count, the witness count and the proof count. He began the interrogation by questioning the judge –
“So Your Honour, don’t these aspects make Mr. Harrington and his firm more accountable?”
“The defence lawyer may now speak in repellence,” the Judge replied. The accused firm began their account with Carreras.
“Thanks Your Honour. Being a part of Zucculini Chemicals’ every research plan, the lawyer would like to impose the motion of moderated interrogation, in its defence. To begin with, Zucculini Inc. has never disposed off its chemicals untreated in the sea, and the prosecutor doesn’t have any eyewitnesses to account against this statement”
“Eyewitnesses haven’t always been the base of any case, Your Honour,” Brommel countered, and continued, “in view of the victims after April 2012, all of the sixty-two victims have died of prostate cancer, and in 43 of them, large traces of methyl azide have been found. According to formal research, methyl  azide is the same chemical that is used for emulsifying ship oil, in the accused firm.”
A round of applause followed this major statement.
“Objection, Your Honour,” the court ran silent, “the accused would like to question the so-called victims- being a coastal city, Seville is likely to experience oil spills in seas, and, as earlier accounted by Justice Brommel, emulsifiers in ship oil seep to the ground at a much rapid rate, than oil itself.” Justice Carreras’ shoot-back took a long time to be digested.
Some gossiping in the crowd.
“Avoiding the drift of the topic,” Brommel carried on, “the area around ZC is the worst affected. Deaths are prominent. I accuse Mr. Harrington of cutting off the safety measures, only to reduce costs.”
“Reduce costs?” Harrington shouted out.
“Objection overruled. Mr. Harrington, to the witness box.”
“My apologies for the impertinence.” Harrington came to the witness box, “Reduce costs? How can a man with cumulative property deals of 100 million € cut costs?”
“Doesn’t the owner of ZC spend ninety per cent of his income in art auctions and football teams? Yes, Mr. Harrington, this has come out of one of your greater associates, or, to be precise, from one under whom you were a greater associate.”
“How come...”
“Objection overruled. The Judge asks the prosecutor to present the witness before Him.”
“Presenting you the showdown, Your Honour – Mr. Nathaniel Zucculini...”
When the name was announced in the courtroom, the atmosphere had to suffer a massive transition, from suspense to shock, from thrill to tension. All eyes followed Brommel’s index, and landed on a gaunt man, who now had appeared from the crowds.
“Brother?” Harrington stood dead shocked, “you... you weren’t dead all along?”
The new discovery arrived at the witness box – “Are you the same Carson with whom I had signed the Power of Attorney? Is this the same Carson, who had officially pledged to be the chief director of the company, only for the good of its clients? Is this the same Carson, who had withheld with my name for the company, so that it reminds him of his brother? I very much doubt it.”
The total hearing range of population in the court rose to a cent times.
“All along, I’ve kept you as my son, Carson. I knew you had bitter ambitions, but I tried to conceal them, from your side. But when I first realised your actual motive of taking over this company, just for the sake of better profits, I badly felt the need of detaching the laws of brotherhood. I met Justice Brommel at the right time. We hushed up the accident; all eye -witnesses to the event - there were five of them - were our men. There was no drunken man and no tripping over the bridge. This mere tomfoolery was my plot, to actually realise your way of achieving up to your intentions. And when Seville starved out, I couldn’t hold on to my guilt; the guilt of being a murderer’s brother. I’ve blurted out all that was possible from the side of a helpless brother. You’ve killed a city, Carson. It is sheer manliness, which has dragged me to this court.”
No one cared to break the prolonged silence that followed. As the rock-solid defence was about to break itself up, Justice Brommel exclaimed –
“Isn’t it enough, Your Honour, to end the case here?”
After a deep breath, the Judge said, “having gone through all accusations and defence statements, the Supreme Court of Spain awards the penalty of life imprisonment to Carson Harrington and his associates, and orders the closure of Zucculini Chemicals, Seville.” The hammer shot out.
Ten years later, in the newly-renovated parish, candles can be seen lit with tears of bittersweet emotions, recalling the advent of better days. Some felt that Harrington deserved a worse retribution, yet, he proved himself to be a reflection of the felling of mankind...

Wednesday, 14 January 2015

छोड़ गए सीधे रास्ते पीछे …

कदमों  तले चलने पर देखा तो ,
सामने खड़ी पर्वतों की दीवारें हैं,
छोड़ गए सीधे रास्ते पीछे,
अब तो टेढ़ी-मेढ़ी दरारें हैं।

चले गए दूर वे दिन,
जब लिया करते थे करवटें हम,
लड़खड़ाकर उठना है हरपल,
छोड़कर हर ख़ुशी, हर गम।

अब किसी कठिनाई से परहेज़ नहीं,
नहीं है किसी अवसर को ठुकराना,
अब तो नज़र केवल क्षितिज-सीमा पर है,
नहीं है बाधाओं से टकराना।

गतिशीलता की सीमाओं से परे,
चलना है, भले तलवारों की कतारें हैं,
छोड़ गए सीधे रास्ते पीछे,
अब तो टेढ़ी-मेढ़ी दरारें हैं।



Tuesday, 13 January 2015

कलियुग-प्रलय

हाय यह घोर कलियुग,
न जाने कब लगेगा इस पर विराम,
आज सारा विश्व आपस में लड़ रहा है,
न जाने कब थमेगा यह कोहराम।

कोई ताकत के लिेए, कोई सत्ता के लिए,
संसार में आज गया है एक भीषण प्रलय।
विकास और उन्नति के नाम पर,
 बनते जा रहे है यांत्रिक शस्त्रों के हिमालय।

बिम्बाणु-परमाणु के नाम तो अब सब के मुँह से फूटते है,
 हर किसी की ज़ुबानी, आज 'ढाय-ढाय' को राह देती है,
प्रतिद्वंदिता की सीमाएँ पार कर, आज सभी अपनों से बैर कर रहे हैं,
अपनी जीत को देख, दूसरों के पिछड़ेपन से सभी ठिठक रहे हैं।

'बापू' की दृष्टि को आज अँधा बनाकर,
पृथ्वीलोक में क्रूर हाहाकार मच रहा है।
किंतु क्या किसीकी निगाह ने यह नहीं परखा,
कि इस क्रूरता की उमटती ज्वाला को कैसे बुझाया जा सकता है???

Sunday, 7 September 2014

That's Kargil For Remembrance


It was time, when I realised that I was on a bed. I had got so much accustomed to my bunker, that I felt that stones and rocks were the life and soul of me. I dimly blinked my eyes once, but it’s ridiculously outrageous, when you sleep for almost a week, and then open your eyes to dazzling, glaring light. I felt no one, but Martha and Martin around. I should have said Mandeep and Manisha, but it’s trendy to use such names. A real pair of Tweedledum and Tweedledee; inseparable from each other. I heaved a sigh of relief, as the ECG had not yet faltered to absolute zero.
Between my life and death laid a whole world of ramshackle stretches, and my deep slumber in Room 21, Central Hospital, gave me the chance to recollect my cataclysmic past. The last of what I had seen, was a sudden shattering of stones, a pool of blood, and then, sudden darkness.
Lieutenant-General Jaspal Singh, a tremendously authoritative and commanding personality, had always longed for a D-day. An adventurous temperament, he was fit to be our head. He was then crouching by my side, on the eleventh day of the war.
Major sa’ab,” he called out, “the seventh troop is on the verge of exhaustion. The molotovs have died out. We are short of resources, and need reinforcements.
The Kargil guns have a long life. Use them,” Major Surendra Rathore replied.
Guns, rifles, cannons, bombs and fire attacks had been a mundane happening then. As loads of sand and dust soared high up in the sky in response to the severe battering it received due to the unstoppable thrusts of man-propelled thunderbolts, the Kargil guns were simply a garnishing to the now ruthless range of weapons. We had made their encroachers retreat, thanks to the natives, but they had now come with some further ‘knick-knacks.’
They had now opened tank firing from Sector 21. Our response came late, but utterly outbursting. We replied by sending the ‘Chakravyuha’ right in the centre of the war ground, and, one should realise, Chakravyuha meant business. Without beating about the bush, it directly assaulted Sector 21, ignoring the timid blacks-and-greens around it. It was then, that we had some momentous success- the wreckage of their R-224, one of their trump cards.
One mistake. A single, sole blunder that changed the complete course of my life. This was when I needed spare gunpowder for my then exhausted gun. Not realising the presence of an open junction between Sectors 18 and 19, and not comprehending what would befall if I would be in the clear, I rose right in the clearing, and then gave way to an open-gun firing, right at me.
I limped off just when the junction ended. I collapsed on the ground, and then realised that the world is actually round. Colonel Sen lifted me up, and took me inside the underground pathway. I saw everything turning black in front of my eyes…
Three shots from a Walter XCC are a great achievement atleast for me. We had won it; we had won it among all the bloodshed, among the entire catastrophe. But what about the massacre that the war brought with it? We killed, they killed, only for the want of killing. Perhaps that’s the Fate of a soldier. We fought and won a battle for our land. We gave way to an inspiration to the future. We paved the road to a better India. Someday, someone would ask me with a mike in his hand, and then, I would reply, “I’m Colonel Rishabh Talwar, ex-Indian Army, a citizen of India…


Tuesday, 18 March 2014

India- A Peninsula of Evergreen Radiance


...That ruined, slimy wall was just amusing me as I gazed up towards the Fort of Golconda. Just a day ago, at this same moment, I was unwillingly stepping foot out of the giant white marblepiece of Agra. Perhaps that’s what India is famous for- everything that interests everyone, intrigues everyone- monuments, culture, tradition, society, and of course, the mouth-watering food. Even as I stood by the wall, I clutched in my mouth a large gulp of idli.
“India… Incredible India… the one beyond the world…” Those were my camera’s words when it clicked the fifteen thousandth photograph of the ever-lasting gleam of the country. Never mind me revolving round and round the motion for this article, but truly, the gasp of the mouth when one ‘experiences’ India is just inexplicable.
The India I love doesn’t make headlines. It is the traditional India, the India, beyond bounds, the India beyond the horizon, the India beyond eternity, that I really intone in my inner self. 
Looking back to my memories of the trip I had left behind, a certain sort of significance kept flashing in my mind about the various faces of this vibrant country; they all had something in common. Everything in India from streets to shops had in them a sense of harmony, a sense of making one welcome to warmth. No matter how busy people are, they prefer help before their job.
To talk about the culture, this is a factor one should not talk about, for it is so vast that one couldn’t finish it in one birth. It’s something that won’t end, that we won’t want to end. It is something that one would want to watch his entire life. The grace, the elegance of every tone of music, of every mudra of dance has in itself an entire world of its own. Be it the kathak of Uttar Pradesh, the bharatanatyam of Tamil Nadu, the ras garba of Gujarat, or the Carnatic music of the South, the taal and the raag of the so-called ‘musical art’ always has an ever-lasting effect on one’s soul.
Everything in India has an inscripted pattern in itself, and this is what defines the unique art and architecture of the country. The jali pattern in tomb structures and the medieval-age-old jharokhas are a means of communion with an abode of art in its best form; in its best incarnation. Even the domes and the arches of every fragrance of the fineness and dexterity of the hand-and-tool art symbolise the different sects and clans that constitute of India’s glorious past. 
Just as the last piece of my idli went through my throat, I recalled the variety of spices, the variety of tastes, and the variety of aroma I had enjoyed in this tour. Perhaps, I had eaten too much. Perhaps, I had ‘enjoyed’ eating too much- yeah, that’s better. From the north, it’s the Kashmiri kawa, the Punjabi lassi, and makki’s roti and sarson’s saag (did I get it right, or it’s the other way?) and the kulfi. From the west, it is the Gujarati dhokla, khakra and handwa, and the Rajasthani dal-bati. On the other hand, the sweets of West Bengal and the tea of Assam, Meghalaya and Mizoram constitute the east. Not to forget the south, it’s the spices, as well as the idli, the dosa, the rasam, and the sambhar of Kerala and Tamil Nadu--- there, there, this is making me water now.
Today was the third day of Pongal, and I wasn’t surprised when I noticed people from all directions came to me running and calling out to celebrate. People in India ‘lead’ their lives. They love their lives, they cherish every single moment as their last. They are the ones who celebrate the most number of festivals in the world. Right there at the peak of India, I enjoyed the Rauf in the Kashmir harvest festival. I also participated in the Durga Puja, Bihu and Diwali, and met some boat racers on Onam.
My tour was coming to an end now. As I gave my final glance to the fort, I felt that I had not yet reached my destination. I had not yet ended my journey…
What left me thinking was the present scenario of this diversely united country. Of course, one does hear of the growing population, corrupt politics and poverty these days, but the truth behind these words is too bitter to digest. Much needs to be done for the ‘development’ of India in the right sense. Although the country is democratic, this democracy doesn’t have its true essence, and that is equality. Now here, one would say that the Constitution supports equality to all, but is this really implemented in the national society?
As I give my final salute to the country that taught me the true meaning of life, I lay my head high towards the most developed peninsula of the future. Perhaps someday, at sometime, someone will come to ignite the dozing mindset of the Indians of today, and look forward to a first fully democratic India…

Sunday, 29 December 2013

Spring- An Evergreen Natural Festivity

It's spring, and, although not much noticeable in our region, one can feel the tender coolness of the air around. A simple song to commemorate this feeling...

The first dew of a late-summer morn,
Drops right on top of a bud at dawn,
You never know when the bud will turn into blossom,
For it's spring's onset, and winter's almost gone.

That spotted, winged flutterer,
Will now be all graceful and groomed,
No wonder it's the field of pink poppies,
That makes her drift away from gloom.

The budded yellow tulips in the nearby yard,
Will now sight the first look of the world around,
As the subtle dawn sunrise,
Will wake them from their slumber, gentle and sound.

The radiance and the vibrance of colours never enjoyed,
Will now fill up the atmosphere with lush harmony,
As spring heralds the beginning of a new bloom,
And embarks on a journey to eternity...





Wednesday, 25 September 2013

The Ultimate Fundamental- Appreciation of the Blood That Flowed for Us...

Letter from a freedom fighter to the youth of today...


Dear Luv

You,ll. be surprised to know who I am, but I'll tell you that I was one of the 'alive martyrs' of the Indian Independence Movement. Shocked, weren't you? Well, discover me in the end...

I'm over 80 years old,  and I've contributed my life to an independent, a free India. I've lost my life several times fighting the British, if you understand what I mean.

It was the so-called 'unity in diversity' that led us to a successful campaign against the British. Today's generation is so lost in business, that they have no time to realise why they are here, with a strong, a unique position in the world today. You, and the ones of your generation are studying Modern History. You know almost everything about M. K. Gandhi, S. Bose, Bhagat Singh, Rani Lakshmibai, or others. But, have you ever reflected on their lives and lifestyles? Freedom to the country, for them, was the only thing they had to die for. 

The freedom fighters had to sacrifice almost everything to the free country in which you live today. I had to sacrifice my home, my studies, and even my family to make our motherland free. You are lucky not to have been born in that era. We fighters had to give away our wealth for the good of the poor, so that they grow up and join our forces.

My only purpose to write this letter was to make the youth aware of the sacrifices the freedom fighters made while fighting for the country. I hope that you'll realise the internal reality of the Indian Independence Movement...

Yours lovingly
A friend of your hearts... 

                                          

Saturday, 18 May 2013

The Million-Dollar Friendship

This is an infamous tale from the ancient land of Greece; turned into a poem by me...

There lived a king named Philodus,
In the great land of Greece.
He was the unkindest and the crullest ruler ever lived,
He never let anyone live in peace...

There was a slave named Adrocles,
Who was fed up with the king , his master,
He escaped and ran away far into the jungle,
And felt that he couldn't be a long-laster...

Just then he saw a lion,
Roaring to the great skies,
He noticed a thorn stuck under his paw,
And felt that he was groaning for life...

He relieved the lion from pain,
As he removed the thorn from his paw,
And then...the lion roared with all his might,
Oh, what a miracle he saw!

The lion pounced on him,
Not to kill him, but to hug him!
And they became the best friends ever,
And ate, and played, and lived together...

But their happiness was pricked up,
As Adrocles was found and caught by the king's soldiers,
He was brought into the Great Roman Colosseum,
To fight as a gladiator...

There he was, thrown into the Globe,
Around which, people were shouting for a battle of life,
The king gave orders to begin,
Adrocles thought, "Will I ever survive?"

A lion was brought, gag and bound,
And was set free, to move all around,
Towards Adrocles he charged, with great speed,
As Adrocles stood shivering, with his sword and shield...

Then the miracle happened,
As the lion braked himself with all his might,
And to Adrocles' surprise,
It was the same lion that he knew by sight!!!

The people stared in horror,
As the two greeted and embraced each other,
There was dead silence in the Colosseum,
As Adrocles exclaimed, "Oh, my brother!"

The king rose angrily and shouted,
"What's the meaning of all these?"
It was Adrocles who explained the story,
As the Globe didn't even heave a sigh or a hiss...

The king then broke the silence,
As he exclaimed, "Let them prosper and live together,
Let them stay alive,
For, a good turn deserves another!!!"

They were set free in their lands,
And they ate, and played, and lived together,
They lolled, and roamed, and moved about,
And they lived happily forever..