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You need an image for everything. So here's oneindia.com's image of a rape.



Hindi Terrorism? Was Rahul thinking of Sonia's mastery of the language?



Now, this is some elephant.

Leaks 3

The main grouse of the Zatan seemed to be the 200 Rupee limit on gifts. Well here's the last mail in the series:


From Secret Zatan
To meoffice>

Subject: The last post - Confessions of a Zatan

This is the last Zatan mail. Do NOT read further and get offended. It might sound insulting, even when that's not the objective. Please delete.

I read up some good stuff about gentleness, kindness, and all that...and I feel I was wrong. It's made a difference. I'm a changed man....
These are some of the stuff I found on a page:

Speak for yourself.

One of the hardest things in life is having words in your heart that you can't utter.
James Earl Jones

The worst prison would be a closed heart.
Pope John Paul II

Have a heart that never hardens, a temper that never tires, a touch that never hurts.
Charles Dickens

Such words might move people in a way that swords or orders never can. Coming back to where we left off the last time, I was walking through Ibrahim Sahib street yesterday looking for something. What do I buy her? Hmmm.. Maybe a Salwar Kameez? Found a good looking one. But with the lining it will go beyond budget. Looking at the prices may be I'll just get her the lining and let her figure out the rest.

Arrre...do sau rupayee mein miltha kya hai aaj kal?
Kuch nahin miltha

I'm getting so obsessed with this whole affair. Last night's nightmare was the culmination.

I won a lottery. The sponsors of the event are present, and they're all standing up and clapping while someone with a mask hands over the hefty prize package of one crore rupees to me.
I begin to open it. The atmospehere is electric, as the studio suddenly comes alive. People are making Mexican waves and shouting "Hurrah, lucky buggar...you've made it." In the distance Nirmal danced his ever so memorable rain dance in the most alluring fashion. "Open it." A voice boomed. With trembling fingers I opened the package. Inside the package, there it was, emblazoned in letters of crimson and gold, a royal lot of freshly minted Two Hundred Rupees notes! On the notes, instead of the Gandhi watermark, there was the skull and the crossbow. That really knocked the nightlights out of me, and I woke up, screaming, sweating, panting, like a chick in some B-grade flick.
That's when I decided, I'd better be good.
What about all of you?
Are we all good?
The occasionally rising temper?
Words that we sometimes use that cuts more than we intended?
A modicum of intolerance toward something (c'mon saints)?
Slightest pangs of jealousy that we may feel even when we congratulate someone?
Time wasted thinking about opportunities lost without looking at the life ahead of us?
Getting worked up for nothing (Big John doesn't pay)?
Refusing to believe that your opposition might be correct?
Not applying logic and reason?
Secretly feeling happy that someone volunteered to handle a headache that was coming your way?

The list is endless my friends. I admit I have some of the above sometimes. And that's what keeps me sane...human.
If it was not, then I would be you know who.
Folks...I sincerely hope this mail made sense.

So lets continue playing the best angels that we are capable of. FYI, I had started that on day one I received the chit. And I'm angel to a guy I know. I'm planning to get him a good book.

That begs the question. Can we walk outside of the constraints of a chit and be an angel to everyone? Tough ask?
As a token of appreciation, can we get something for that guy, who's been carrying the lunch for 40 people, climbing 4 floors, without fail for the past eighteen months or so? Oh...I forgot..he's just a contract fellow.

We are living in some contradicting times:

Germans who did not want the Iraq war
Tiger Woods ruling the white man's game
Rupee moving against the dollar
Guess a Zatan with some love can fit in somewhere there.

There's already a lot of filth in the world around us.
Thank God that we are not there....and not that bad.

Long live Michael Jackson (minus his alleged pdo background)
Why?

But My Friend You Have Seen Nothing
Just Wait 'Til I Get Through . . .
Because I'm Bad, I'm Bad-Really, Really Bad
And The Whole World Has To Answer Right Now Just To Tell You Once Again,
Who's Bad . . .?????

- Breaking news: Zanzani khabar...An admin assistant in Clown college dropped dead while reviewing student applications for 2008. The Dean had applied.

Wishing you all a Merry X'mas and a Happy 2nuts8,
Whether you like it or not,
The Last of the Zatans.

----
Somebody:

Wish you all a Merry X'mas and be good!!!! :)

-----
Somebody else:

Hey people,

Whoever this 'Zatan' person is, I'd definitely like to meet him/her. Wouldnt it be gr8 fun if we could get to know his/her identity on the 20th after we all get to know who our angels are!!! What say?

Regards,
----

XYZ

:D Yup u r right!!!!!!!!!

--------

Leaks 2

From Zatan

All right..."The girl next door" packs a punch in her response.
Couple of rules:
1. Read this only if you have spare time. It's a guaranteed waste.
2. Upon reading this, you need to either smile or frown (latter preferred). Remember: It takes 43 muscles to frown and 17 to smile, but it doesn't take any to just sit there with a dumb look on your face. (c) despair.com

That nasty angel of mine is pestering me in all manner possible. Dude/dudy wants to know what I want. Look...for one last time. I have all that I want that comes for 200 bucks. I am reasonably managing my life without stressing myself out.

Now YOU and YOUR whiny messages are stressing me.

So angel…if you promise not to nag further, you can gift me the following:

Two stress balls and
One stress bat (yeah the electric one you kill mosquitoes with).
Should come for Rs. 180.
Keep the change thank you.

Phew...Now that's settled.
Jellybum's nasty as ever. Yesterday I loitered around her place, trying to look nice and give
some sort of hints. Didn't work. She looked right through me as though I was Mandira Bedi's sari.
Worse, the office grapevine tells me in the evening that she thinks I'm hitting on her. Boy!

Now here are my ideas for her:
How about 20 scratch lottery tickets? Haan/Naah?

May be a T-shirt which says:

"Samandar mein su su karne se Tsunami nahin hoti"
Might get slapped.
Rejected

You must be thinking I'm jobless, sitting here typing out these long mails. You got me wrong there. I got enough work to make a living. Yet I manage to write hate mails.

How?

Evil has it's own ways.
It makes my b******s tingle

Luv,
Secret Zatan
-----------------------
Z to me office> show details 12/13/07

Hi Zatan,

You are NOT funny!!! I wonder if anyone has told u that!!!. You mails make no sense!!. I think we should all donate 10p each and enrol you in CLOWN SCHOOL.

And if you ever manage to graduate, we shall then send you to CLOWN COLLEGE!!!!!.

On behalf of the
ABC Team.

POS to me show details 12/13/07

Cheers N, Great mail!! we share your sentiments.

On behalf of the XYZ Team

-----------------------
D to office>
show details 12/13/07

Hey zatan, I guess you should be the owner of this despair.com right?
Or even the best, you should start something called frustratedsouls.com; pessimisticpals.com
You could always ask for suggestions from US!!!

On behalf of the
Support Team J
-----------------------
Zeta to: me office>

Hey Zatan!!!


I, personally, on behalf of no one else, applaud your efforts at bringing in a bit of humor!!!

I appreciate your sense of irony and think that you could be a great trainee/graduate at nationalsarcasm.com or murphyrules.com!!!

Again, on behalf of no one else but ME, I appreciate that you choose to look at the evil and nasty as well as the good and the funny…

Two sides of the same coin…taliyan ek haath se nahi bajthi… yaadi yaada…

SO!! Cheers to your fresh perspective!! If nothing else, there is still one person hankering after your delicious attempt at irony and intrigue…

On behalf of

ME.
-----------------------
Zeta to: me office>
show details 12/13/07

To the Secret Zatan:



“From the valleys and halls of the dark Mordor…
Arises a power that no one can ford off…

The slime and filth forgotten in no haste…
Zatan leaves a sour taste…

In the minds of the lesser mortals
As his subtle reach surely throttles
The gift of love, joy and peace…

But there are some that never adore
The sweet nothings of the Xmas radar
The deer, the light, the yawn and the fight…
Splendidly does Zatan arise;

And behold in true splendor
The gift of gab
An ugly task…truly a mind bender

For the nasty little jibe does hurt
Zatan in his glory is curt

Take a moment dear friends!!
To appreciate, what no one else attempts -
To bring in to the dark ages

A wee smile…and humor from its cages.

Slash!! Grr! Colleges galore!
May (s)he never forget
The bitter truth of ancient lore:

What goes up comes down…
Evil and the good – two sides of the same coin

What perseverance, if shown
Comes with insight and not a moan
What cheer in the world is left…

If Zatan is lost and the truth is bereft???””



Disclaimer: This email is intended for the use of the individual addressee(s) named above and may contain information that is confidential, privileged or unsuitable for overly sensitive persons with low self-esteem, no sense of humor or irrational religious beliefs. If you are not the intended recipient, any dissemination, distribution or copying of this email is not authorized (either explicitly or implicitly) and constitutes an irritating social faux pas. Please note that this message represents the official view of the voices in my head.
-----------------------

Sajish GP me
show details 12/13/07

Hey Satan,

I gotta suggestion for you...
For once, why don't you try thinking like a Santa. Just need to reorder 3 letters in your name.
If not, try graduating from that Clown College. If you succeed we'll chip in some more cash, and send you to the Indian parliament - the greatest collection of clowns.

Again on behalf of everyone in this office who does not object to the above,
-Sajish

-----------------------
From someone to me office.
show details 12/13/07

Ha! Ha! We bow to the your words... well said, and cheers to that !!!!

-----------------------
Zeta to: me office>

Good one Sajish!! LOL!

How about some tales of kindness and compassion? Must be tough for you. But try.

Remember life is about good and bad. Do not just glorify bad. Look at the other side too. It might be brighter at least!
Nevertheless, I shall pitch in too!!

Cheers!

Zeta

-----------------------
X to me office> show details 12/14/07

TO THAT UNLUCKY PERSON WHO HAS TO BUY A GIFT FOR ZATAN!!!!

GIFT IDEAS!!!

1. A copy of the book " A CHRISTMAS CAROL"( Of course not an original copy but a used copy from an Avenue street store)

If you do not know what that book is about go to the links below and refresh your memories or just remember "SCROOGE"

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Christmas_Carol

www.stormfax.com/dickens.htm

2. A pirated copy of the movie "How the Grinch stole Christmas"

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0170016/

Well thats it for now!!! Please feel free to contribute to this list!!!!!!!!!!

Have a nice day !!!!!!!!!!!


X.
-----------------------
S to me office> show details 12/14/07

Hey X,

That's really funny! Those r excellent gift ideas for giving Zatan!!!

Waiting for the rest of the list :)

Leaks

Since this is the age of Wiki leaks, here's part one of an unofficial office e-mail chain that did the rounds during a Christmas of yester years. There was this fellow called Secret Zatan, anti thesis of sorts to the Secret Angel campaign running at that time. Some mails are pretty long, especially if you have the time to go through parts 2 and 3 in this chain.

From Secret Zatan
To meoffice>

It was a sad rainy day. I went out for lunch and came back to the office slighly drenched.
Should I make it a half-day, I'm thinking.
I notice some movement in the corridor. It's the HR lady.
She walks into the floor and stands next to me.
She has this bunch of chits in a sad looking box.
She thrusts the box into my face and says "pick one."
I blink. "What for?"
And she says "Secret Angel!!! ofcourse" with a look as though I should've been playing this game all my life. I asked her if it was optional. Nope. No luck there.

I picked one praying that the chit would be mine. No gifts, no funny emails or messages. Nope, no luck there either.

So I'm playing this clunky game, playing angel to a jellybum I never knew existed. I tried smiling at her the next day and she had this "yew, why are you leering at me" look.

#x*%, I suck at this. Why push me into this socializing campaign. Let me alone!!!!
The worst is listening to giggles from neighbourhood cubicles:
"Look what my secret angel send me?"
"Let me have a look...Oooh flowers soooo cuuuute."
Aaaargh!
BTW I got a card from some moron who is playing angel to me. He/she has asked me in a chweet way to guess the angel. Guess what? I don't know who you are and I don't care. But I sure do know that you gotta hell of spare time on your hands to decorate and paint a silly little card.

Now I gotta figure what to buy for the jellybum. Something that will make her purr and say "oooo nice." Any ideas?

-Secret Zatan
---
X to me,
details 12/11/07

Hey Satan, you were too nasty!!! Grrr...

-----
Y to me
show details 12/11/07

I AGREE!!!!! Ahem :D

II. How Ayda came to be

Every child in Ayda knows about its origins. Their knowledge isn't complete, but it goes like this.

Hundreds of years ago, there existed beyond the Eastern ridges of the Kshitidarr, a land called Halyian, one that was more bountiful than Ayda, thirteen times its size, with a huge sprinkling of people. The world of Eywa was not known in its entirety then. And before then, nothing is known, except that people loved what they had, hunting game and perfecting the fine art of growing seeds into food that fed their clan. They settled in Halyian, at the time when the Great King united their clans into one common brotherhood.

The kingdom flourished, but like every thing else, all good things must come to pass. There came a wave of destruction and death, so forceful and unforgiving, that the Great King had to flee. And away they moved to the mountains to escape, where two fears crossed. They feared to step on the mountains, for the Gods they did worship dwelt there. But, overcome by fear fed by evil, they did decide to make the traverse over the Eastern ridge. At what cost, they were to lament, for all the seasons to come.

On the lower reaches, they waited. Much to their relief, the reconnaissance party that had gone ahead had found a pass, dangerous but not insurmountable for the strong and able. Some of the weak were to be left behind. On the next day, the Great King and his best horsemen started first, with prayers of forgiveness on their lips for stepping on the abode of the Gods. Little did they know that pleasant weather was soon to give way. Storm clouds whirled over the mountain in a matter of painful moments engulfing the royal party. When the weather finally cleared, all movement that could be noticed from below was an eagle that circled close to the pass.

Led by their Queen, the remainder of people who made their way to the pass the next day saw below them, in the depths of the mountain, the remains of twenty horsemen who had fallen to their deaths in an icy lake. The storm had blinded the Great King and his best men to their fall. Saddened, but spurred on by what lay behind them, the party pressed on with their march into the unknown. They moved very slowly, weary from hunger, cold, wind, and fear.

The marksmen guarding the rear were the last to make the traverse. When they finally joined the party, they brought with them the news that all those who were left behind were never shown the mercy of death by those whom they were fleeing.

One more day passed, till all could finally rest. When they did, they made a cairn just below the snowline on the other side of the mountain, in memory of the dead and all whom they had left behind. The Queen decreed on that day that no man, woman, or child was ever to cross the cairn of the Great King, for evil lay on the other side. And the noblest of the royal family, no less, would stand guard. From the highest foothill there, as the mist lifted, they sighted Ayda, and they were indeed the first men to do so. They felt a strong warm wind in their faces, one which gave them some relief from despair. It was from a sea, which they did later discover and name Valle Annar.

I. The Pain of Ayda

The Queen Mother looked around from the window in the morning, as the first rays of Vetar kissed her kingdom. Perched at a small elevation, the nucleus of the kingdom was a perfect vantage point. She watched with contentment the numerous villages that surrounded the palace and the lush farmlands that stretched beyond them as far an hour’s flight for the strongest eagle in her aviary. In the distance she could see the foothills and the permanently snow-capped peaks of the Eastern ridge that marked the end of the Kshitidarr, the Great Mountains. It was said that Kshitidarr kept all the rainfall sent from the heavens from escaping the realm of Ayda. Beyond the ridge, lay lands of barrenness for distances obscene, where birds died of exhaustion before they found a trace of life, if the bards are to be believed.

There were signs of peace, and peace alone, all around. Peace, along with the years of prosperity brought boredom alongside. A little kid in a farm far outside the crown couldn't help notice that even the corn was bored by the constant iAydanaction, even when it swayed freely to the westerly breeze. The western winds picked up some speed toward noon and carried with them a wailing that was unnatural, nothing like the kid in the farmland had heard before.

The Princess had passed away, and the golden vibrance of the palace suddenly seemed to have peeled away to welcome shades of white, grey, and black. The Queen Mother, however, was not one to cry. Her watchful eyes carefully flitted from the eyes of one courtier to the other, whose sorrow knew no bounds. She was looking for a sign behind those tears and beneath those voices, for the princess died not a noble death. Moments after the spirit of the Princess of Ayda drifted away from the world of men that noon, her body had turned a ghastly blue. For strange as it may sound, poison was unheard of in Ayda, and not a snake ever hissed in anyone’s living memory.

A few moments passed and the Queen quietly made her way to the antechamber. Moving the linens from the windows, she saw the fluttering regalia of the dispatch riders, eight of them, on the best beasts in the kingdom move swiftly to the East. Leading the pack was Aniveh, her eldest son. They soon would pass the news to the King, the seer who dwelt in the highest foothills of the Kshitidarr. Much ahead of them riders, she saw Garde, the fiercest of her kind, with the mournful message tied to her talons. The Queen sensed discomfort, watching Garde flap her huge wings in the horizon, the span of which became a tad smaller with each passing moment, to her anxious eyes. She looked down at the fields, and found her anxiety heightened by the rays of Vetar that bounced off the polished shields tied to the backs of her dispatch riders.

The Queen Mother looked away.

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