The Arms of a Thief

“The winner and the loser told the fallen priest,

It’s a cold cold world in the Arms of a Thief”

Iron and Wine

He was known as The Captain. Just that. No one knew his real name. No one asked. There were tales told about him in many a tavern along the coast. They said he had fought a shark all alone with just a rusty cutlass. They say he had stolen the King’s crown off his head while he slept. They said he was not human, that he was a ghost, much like the Flying Dutchman was not a ship for It could sail on land.

On this particular morning, The Captain was on deck. He was looking at a map. The Duke’s fleet was nearby, he could feel it in his bones. This would be his last robbery, his final conquest. He had just received word that his wife, back in the town he had left her in had given birth to a boy. He had a son, and he did not want the boy to know of him as a pirate.

The Captain was jolted out of his reverie by the urgent voice of his bo’sun from up on the lookout.

“I see it Cap’n. It’s a Man O’ War. The bastards have sent their bloody best with the cargo!”

“Never ye mind the size of the ship! We can take it!”, he growled back. He could feel the adrenalin course through him. He checked his dual flintlock pistols, his own invention and also his cutlasses. He then strode up to the wheel of the ship and  twisted the wheel a full 270 degrees to port. He intended to have the starboard side cannons free so he could greet the ship with a volley of cannonballs.

They drew first blood.

A giant flaming iron ball landed just near his feet knocking the Captain sideways. He tasted blood as he hit the deck. He was on his feet in an instant, with his flintlock pistol in one hand and his cutlass drawn. They were on him. The Duke’s finest. His most elite.

Their leader was a man called Domingo. Domingo laughed a cruel laugh as he faced the Captain.

“Well ye mangy cur. You’ve fallen right into our trap! Did you think this ship contained treasure? It never did. There’s a large bounty on your head y’see. The Duke wants it. I’m here to collect it. The sad part of it is, I have to take you alive. Don’t mean I can’t hurt yeh though”

“Do your worst then, scum” snarled the Captain.

Their swords flashed and sparked. The Captain was a fine swordsman but this Domingo was not a rustic. He too had had plenty of practice and had honed his skill. It was an even match. And as we all know, such matches last. This one was no different. 

Domingo was left handed and kept thrusting viciously. The Captain parried his thrusts and prayed for an opening. He was given none. Domingo was tiring however. He was becoming sloppy. The power in his thrusts had reduced. The Captain hoped this was not just an act for if he slipped up now, he was a dead man.

Somehow, Lady Luck was on his side, for suddenly, his first mate was behind them and stabbed Domingo through the ribs. The Captain moved in and reflected the stab from the front.

“The Duke’s still gonna get you y’know. You’re just prolonging the inevitable you bastard” spluttered Domingo.

That night, was Christmas Eve. The Captain had sailed all day. He finally saw the town, where his wife was on the horizon. Obviously, he couldn’t risk taking the ship into the harbor and so he anchored her in a cove just off the coast; intending to take the boat into the jetty and from there go to his home.

Home. He had a home. The Captain rolled the thought around his head. He liked it. His crew were all tired and he had given them the night off to revel. They had gone to the tavern in the town.

He made his way to the house. He knocked his secret knock on the door.  His wife opened it. She looked radiant.

“I knew you would come”, she said as he took her in his arms.

“Where is my son?”, he whispered.

“He is asleep”

“Can I see him?” asked the Captain.

Just then, another figure stepped into the light. It was the Duke.

“End of the road vermin. Did you really think I would let you off that easy? I only wanted you to think that I had sent that Man O’ War after you with the intention of burying you at sea. The tavern you sent your men into is filled with my men. They’re all dead by now I expect. As for you, I’ll spare you. If you come along quietly”, said the Duke

The Captain was a man of few words. He merely drew his flintlock and shot in one fluid movement. The Duke fell to the ground dead.

His wife screamed.

The Captain was gone. He went back to the boat he had left in the jetty. He boarded it and rowed away from the town. He could hear the shouts as the guards sounded the alarm. By the time a search party got roused up, The Captain would be gone.

It was Christmas. Christmas was a time for family. It was a time to be happy. But sadly, The Captain realized, a pirate knows no other life than the one at sea. He is but a nomad, cursed to merely wander.

It had started to snow. The Captain had made it to his ship. Luckily, a few of his crew had survived the massacre. They could still sail.

And sail they did, with the Captain at the helm of his ship. As it had always been.  

The Bilge Master

What are the Essential Elements of a Horror Story

“Have you run your fingers down the wall,

And have you felt you neck skin crawl,

When you’re searching for the light?

Sometimes when you’re scared to take a look,

At the corner of the room,

You sense, there’s something watching you”

(Lyrics to “Fear of the Dark” by Iron Maiden)

Let me first try to make the reader understand what horror is according to me. Horror or synonymously; terror is plain, pure undiluted fear. Often this can manifest in the form of a giant 8 legged monster or sometimes it can manifest upon reading something in the local newspaper.

The thing about a horror story is that it’s adaptable. What scares me, might be found laughable by my friends. As an example, I found “Frankenstien” to be a very sad story as opposed to a horror classic. However the way in which the doctor creates his monster was indeed spine chilling. The subsequent events were to an equal measure scary and at the same time sad. I re-read the book some time back, but again I found that I was upset at the tragic ending of the monster and the doctor. I think what I am trying to say is that I tend to look for believable things to be scared of such as say one day an artificial intelligence takes over our lives effortlessly. Or the accounts of crimes I read about in the paper on a daily basis.

On the other hand the movie “Psycho” by Alfred Hitchcock, scared me to no end; much of which I attribute to the brilliant acting on the part of Anthony Quinn. The suspense had my heart beating at twice it’s rate and the climax made my hair stand on end.

So, here are the elements of a horror story according to me:

Suspense- Keep the reader or the audience on the edge of their seats. Don’t allow them to think that there’s nothing more coming. Keep them guessing and if possible lull them into a sense of security, before smashing it to smithereens

Realism- As I mentioned in the introduction, something real terrifies me more as opposed to say a blob emerging from the sea and consuming New Jersey. I guess an element of realism helps to make things scarier; like say something akin to the Pied Piper who kidnaps all the kids from Hamlyn

Uncertainty- I will here refer to the story “Childhood’s End” by Arthur C Clarke, in which aliens come and basically take all the children away from their parents. I could not sleep for days after I finished said book. The thing is, we aren’t 100% sure what is out there in space yet. Exploiting this uncertainty will always scare the crap out of anyone if it’s done right, As it has been said, “Man believes in the improbable, but not the impossible”. And thereby, literally hangs a tale.

The Reader- Different people scare differently. I didn’t find “Dracula” by Bram Stoker scary. I found it funny. My friend said it gave him goosebumps. I think a horror story’s horror element depends a lot on who is reading it. It should appeal to the mind of the reader. It should stimulate that part of his brain that makes him feel afraid. It should make the aforementioned part afraid. Very, very afraid.

I may have given the impression that I don’t like horror stories. I love them. The thing is, I don’t scare easily I suppose. Either way, do let me know-what scares you? Ghosts, ghouls, things that go bump in the night?

The Bilge Master

The Motley Mesa

As a child I had seen,
Dismantled before me, a mesa
Of Green, and Blue, and Red
As a teen, I found I loved to read,
And in early adulthood,
I tried to earn a degree in that field,
But, by a Citric twist,
I have found
My calling, my Ultimate Fling
They say, "Passion Colours Everything";
And I now have a place for my head to rest,
So, you now ask me for an introduction,
Well I am a boy,
Gazing
Fascinated
As if I have been Hypnotized
Across that Mesa
Of Red, Blue and Green,
And This
This is what I Want to Be

The Bilge Master

Life in a Crowded Metro

My daily routine on weekdays and sometimes on weekends or holidays is to head over to the Metro station (Kavi Nazrul or Kav Naz for short) and board a train. It's the easiest way to get from deep South Calcutta to Central or North Calcutta where my college is. On most days the crowds are insanse and yesterday was not an exception. I had a semester exam in the afternoon and it was dusk by the time I'd  wrapped up my paper and was on the train back home. The funny thing is, I wasn't aware that the entire atmosphere of the bogey I was in was going to change in a matter of a few stations. 

The story began when a family got on the train from the Park Street station. It was six in the evening and the office goers were with us on the train, resulting in it being packed to the rafters. This family comprised of a man, a woman who was carrying her infant son on her shoulder. The father had an emergency bag with him. I was standing near the door and I quickly made way and signalled to the nearest row of seats asking someone to get up and allow the mother and child to take a seat. Someone else offered to hold the emergency bag too so that the father could stand properly. Unfortunately, since there was so much noise, what with the PA system announcing the next station and the wind in the tunnel causing a racket that the kid (who was about 2) was scared out of his wits and would not stop crying. He kept wanting to go to his father and then came back to his mother, just as inconsolable as before. 

I have no clue what made me think of it, but I knelt down in front of the kid and managed to get his attention by singing "Ob-La-Di-Di-Bla-Da" by The Beatles very softly. I also clapped my hands a bit, so his attention would stay focused on me. By this time, I had a bit of an audience and some people in the bogey knew the song too. They joined in and I think it worked because the kid stopped crying, and instead looked at me like I was from another planet. I suppose with my unkempt long hair and sweat streaked face, I did look a bit scary. 

Finally, when the train was pulling into Mahanayak Uttam Kumar (the Tollygunge station), the kid had stopped crying, taken a sip of water and gone to sleep on his mother's shoulder. 

I got off the Metro at Kavi Nazrul and climbed down the stairs, just like I did everyday. But yesterday, I kept thinking of my mother singing me "Ob-La-Di-Di-Bla-Da" among other songs to help me sleep when I was little. 

I guess nursery rhymes and bedtime stories aren't just for infants! 

The Bilge Master