Torrents

Rain

Fell from the sky

In torrents

While little boys and girls hid

Because a grown up with a gun

Wanted to kill them all

His children saw him come home

Drenched, not with water

But with red, and

They shunned him, and the life he led

But, went on to kill grown ups instead

And somewhere, an old man

Got out his guitar and asked

Yet again

“How many deaths will it take, till he knows;

That too many people have died?”

The Bilge Master

Soul Mate

“Look into my eyes now/Tell me what you see/It is no surprise now/What you see is me”- The Beatles

It’s always been a fantasy

Of humans in general, but especially those in science

To unravel the mysteries of Time

And see what lies beyond the horizon

Of those stars up in the velvet sky

Isn’t it fun, to wonder where We are,

And who is out there, in the vastness

Of the Universe?

I’m curious to know, am I the only one?

Or is there someone out there, just like me?

And if so, what makes Her so different, or so alike?

Will She take my hand?

Will She walk with me, hand in hand?

Will She stand on a mountain top and look up

At a sky full of stars?

And when I look into her eyes, what will I see?

I wonder, what will I see?

The Bilge Master

The Degeneration of Assassin's Creed

In 2007, something novel happened. The studio Ubisoft, known for games such as Driver, Tom Clancy’s Ghost Recon and Prince of Persia:The Two Thrones, decided to start experimenting with history and brought out a game called Assassin’s Creed.

Assassin’s Creed was unique. It allowed you to delve into the genes of Desmond Miles and replay the life of his ancestor; Altair. Altair was an Assassin, based in Masyaf and he spent the entirety of the game jumping off rooftops, climbing up insanely high towers and assassinating people with a hidden blade in his wrist. As a concept, the game was remarkable. The plot was good, with enough twists and turns to keep a history buff interested, but what really took the cake was the gameplay and the environment details.

A few years later, the sequel to Assassin’s Creed- Assassin’s Creed 2 was released and this game blew us all out of the water. It was an amazing improvement over the original. It’s protagonist was Ezio Auditore, and he was handsome, charismatic and deadly rolled into one. We took Ezio in and around 15^th century Italy, at the height of the Renaissance period and climbed up certain iconic landmarks such as the Bascillica in Florence and the canal bridges in Venice. Ezio also had Leonardo da Vinci at his side and the thieves of Venice to rely on for help in situations. As before, the parkour and the free running was simply divine and it was truly spectacular to leap off one roof onto another and take down five guards before jumping out of a hay stack to kill the assassination target and walk off in the chaos that ensued. Ezio packed not one but two hidden wrist blades, was proficient in fist fighting and swordplay and an absolute charmer of the ladies. The player fell in love with him.

Realizing that they had something good going Ubisoft gave us two more games with Ezio in them- Assassin’s Creed Brotherhood, which was in my opinion one of the best games in the series and Assassin’s Creed Revelations in which the connection between Ezio and Altair is fully explained. At the end of Revelations, Ezio  (now fifty) hangs up his blades. In all respects, this was the ideal time to finish the series. However, it would have ended on a cliffhanger, because Desmond Miles’ fate was as yet undecided.

Throughout these games, the presence of the Knights Templar and the mystical “Pieces of Eden” were rampant. In the game, the Assassin’s Altair and Ezio both went after such a Piece, while in the present time, Desmond used this information to track the Piece in the present. I found this concept to be a good one. As Desmond became more and more attuned to Ezio and Altair, he started to learn their skills. He also started to have weird visions, which was expected seeing as he was living a double life per se.

Ezio’s retirement was a turning point for the saga.   It put focus back on Desmond. In the next game; Assassin’s Creed 3, we stepped into the 1700’s and a new Assassin- Connor Kenway made himself known. We also visited the then French colony of New Orleans in the shoes of Aveline de Grandpere who was the only female Assassin introduced in the series thus far. Assassin’s Creed 3 and it’s DLC featured animals- alligators and wolves which were as deadly as humans. Fighting them was a series of quick time events. The climbing also changed as both Connor and Aveline spent an equal amount of time in trees and in bushes as well as in cities. The game engine altered slightly, allowing for better graphics. It was truly spectacular to see light particles being refracted in the water or the moon being reflected in ponds. Swimming became a major feature in these games, perhaps to compensate for the low density of urban environments.

However, while these games were also quite decent; they didn’t have Ezio’s panache and they seemed to lack the historic charm that the previous games had. Somehow, Ubisoft seemed to have focused on gameplay more than actual execution of the plot, which is very important. Ergo, my personal reception of Assassin’s Creed 3 was lukewarm. It was fun to skulk in the trees and drop down on unsuspecting tribal warchiefs but it lacked an X factor.

Desmond died in Assassin’s Creed 3. He died to save the world. Arguably, this was the peak of the series and it should have ended here. Unfortunately, Ubisoft wasn’t done with Assassin’s Creed. Assassin’s Creed 4: Black Flag went into the Caribbean and let us play as the notorious pirate Edward Kenway, who was Connor’s grandfather.

Assassin’s Creed IV was something straight out of an RL Stevenson novel. Sea shanties, blunderbusses, naval warfare and ships to loot took precedence over assassinations. Whaling was also a major part of the game and swimming became a major asset to possess. Edward Kenway was also charismatic, with an edge of “don’t mess with me” thrown in. He was the next best thing to Ezio that the player (me) encountered.  I’m in the process of playing Assassin’s Creed IV at the moment and looks wise and gameplay wise it’s stellar.

However, it’s also sending a message. It’s time to stop this series. Granted, there is still eons of history left for Ubisoft to play around with, but too much of a good thing is bad as we all know.

A lot of people seemed to share my opinion about Assassin’s Creed becoming a super saturated series. Everyone apart from Ubisoft that is.  Their latest instalment Assassin’s Creed Unity takes place in France during the French Revolution.

To call Unity an Assassin’s Creed game would be like comparing a Ferrari to your father’s 20 year old sedan. The entire gameplay mechanic has changed. There are no more dialogues with your assassination targets. Gameplay is repetitive and boring, not to mention dull. It’s usually go here, kill him. Repeat.

While in previous installments open combat was a viable option, here it’s suicide. The ability to counter your foe’s strikes is gone. The ability to counter kill is also absent as is the chain kill feature- introduced in Assassin’s Creed 3. Chain Kill allowed you to lock on to targets in a certain sequence and kill them in that sequence.

There is a marked difference between Assassin’s Creed Unity and any other stealth game. The stealth mechanics are a tad too challenging for someone casual to play with. It demands patience to execute a certain sneak attack which I lack.

The reverse parkour option, which allows you to run down a building is however a welcome addition. But, it’s too little too late.

Therefore, it is my humble request to Ubisoft and it’s associated studios to stop making any further Assassin’s Creed games. The series was an amazing concept and upto Edward, it was executed brilliantly. However, there’s no need for Assassin’s Creed anymore, because it’s gone past it’s peak. A better idea is to work on a sequel for Watch_Dogs which was again a very good concept, but with poor optimization for PC’s. There’s plenty of potential in Watch_Dogs if utilized properly.

In closing, I would like to thank Ubisoft for creating and developing a series as vibrant as Assassin’s Creed. Not only was it engrossing- it was a journey into the past that a person like me could never know. However, it’s time to move on to other projects Ubisoft.

The Bilge Master

The Time Trap

There’s a little something about time travel, which people haven’t realized yet. We have a time machine. It’s called a camera.

Have you ever looked at the pictures that you’ve got lying around the house? By pictures, I mean photographs of course. Take me for example. My father asked me to find some photos and bring them to Asansol with me when I came by. I went to our house in Kolkata, after almost two and a half months and was sorting through a ton of pictures. I found a picture of me as a toddler, taken in Puri and another picture of my cousin sister at her 8^th birthday party. I’ve WhatsApped the photo to her but haven’t checked for a reply yet.

The thing is that, we don’t really look at the pictures we have taken, until provoked to do so. Seeing pictures of our dog Gogo, brought back some very happy memories. Seeing a picture of my late paternal grandfather whom I never had the chance to meet also felt surreal.

But the icing on the cake would have to be the pictures of my father as a young boy (aged about 7 or ten) standing on the terrace of our Ballygunge house with a wicked twinkle in his eye.  No wonder, I’m so naughty. Like father like son after all.

So, sixty years of my family's history, featuring baby pictures, young teenaged pictures of my parents and a lot of other people, was enough to send me back in time. 

So, the next time you’re taking a selfie on Park Street, remember that you’re capturing time in a pixelated medium. Some day when you’re older and you just want to go back in time, dig up that album. It’ll be worth it.

I wonder if Mr. H.G. Wells ever wondered about the potential time trapping ability of a camera?

The Bilge Master

I'm Twenty and I Know it!

The thing about birthdays is that they’re never the same. Sure, they may fall on the same date every year, but then something always changes. Some years, you don’t feel the birthday. Some years, you want the birthday to last forever. Me? I just want cake.

I’m writing this and bidding goodbye to my teens at the same time. It’s a funny feeling. On one hand, I’ve grown up enough to be able to drink with Dad and drive his car. On the other hand, I’m young enough (and fat enough) to down three plates of chicken tandoori in one sitting.  I’ve changed a lot in my teens. I’ve been happy, sad, high, angry and I’ve definitely been emo. In spite of all such changes in me, my family has stood by me. But see, that’s the thing about your folks. You can hate them, you can love them. But you can’t be anything without them.

My brother, Sagnik Mukherjee’s also grown up. He’s no longer a kid and that makes me so proud. My little brother, Sourja who had his birthday today is now 19 and the best thing that happened to me so far this year. Come to think of it, meeting my extended family rocked.

Let’s not forget my best friend, my dog Chuni, who sadly left us last year. He’s still in my corner though and goes woof woof now and again.

Lastly, one thing I’ve learnt in all my time here is it’s very important to keep it simple. You need to know what you want and you need to be happy.

I’m happy. I’m happy to have had some of the greatest friends I could ever want. I’m ahppy to have met so many stupid people in these twenty years. I’m happy that my love for music and writing has got me a blog in a corner of the internet. Most of all, I’m glad that tomorrow, all this will be brand new.

Here I am, this is me. And you can’t take that away from me see?

The Bilge Master

No actually...

Ashesh

I C U- A Guest Post by My Mother

This is a guest post by my mother. She has written about the time she fell sick and had to admitted to hospital. This is her first blogpost and she has said she will soon start her own blog. Till then, please read this post.

The Bilge Master

I used to always joke about summoning paramedics, and urge my family to book me an ICU (Intensive Care Unit). ICU’s are places generally remote from an ordinary human being’s life. So, if I caught a cold in my head, or the curry didn’t come out nice or if I lost a spirited argument with my son; I would holler for ambulances and booking of ICU’s. Little did I know then that one day I would seriously end up in an ICU with my life seriously threatened, by a disease called septicaemia.

I had been ailing for some time, with a Urinary Tract Infection (UTI). Days passed. Apparently I did not get better, but worsened as the sodium/potassium balance in my body got seriously upset and white blood cell counts rose alarmingly and the poison leaked into the blood; laying all my organs vulnerable. Blissfully, I don’t remember any part of it, but I have since heard from my son and husband that I could not stand, kept falling down, urinated all over the house, because I never quite managed to reach the bathroom in time.

I’m a fifty-three year old housewife. Obese. Riddled with blood sugar, hypertension, and despite urgings from everybody, refuse to walk, follow a healthy diet and spend my time shared between my books and laptop. I love drama and so when the most dramatic thing happened in my life, I was unfortunately quite unaware of it.  The paramedics arrived, the ambulance was summoned and I was driven from Asansol to Durgapur’s Mission Hospital in a semi conscious state.

I don’t remember the emergency room where I was first taken, where the decision to put me into ICU was made. Neither do I remember being wheeled into the ICU and put to bed there. The ICU was a cavernous room where very sick people-both men and women were placed for intensive care. The first couple of days and nights are also now quite lost to me. I remember only blood samples being taken at random, breathing through a mask supplying oxygen and being attached to a monitor . All I wanted was to be left alone to die.

Obviously, in the first couple of days,  my sickness waxed triumphantly and the doctors were finally forced to give me a fifty-fifty chance. I have heard later on, that the doctor in charge of my case had said that he was “trying”. My husband said that he had got nowhere with just “trying” but by doing The consultant was taken aback but by gum he did it. On the third day in the ICU, despit e the channels and the drips and the oxygen mask, I came to myself, and became aware of arteries being cut with needles for blood, bodily thirst for water and I was aware of being attached to a catheter. The vaguest impression of people on either side of me became realistic when they both died and had to be removed. From every bed, emanated pain and extreme suffering. Strapped to my bed, I just watched and realized that this in fact, was ICU.

My bed would be wheeled out, for various tests and back again. Many a time, I felt that I was going away from it all and this meant the nursing staff crowding around and doing things and I would come back.

My husband and son came to visit me regularly. They conferred with doctors. Ventilators were frely spoken of, but I stayed put. The only organs that had been affected by the infection in the blood were the lungs  and they dealt with it.

They were short staffed as far as nursing personnel went, each doing 12 hour shifts, looking after so many. A bunch of young kids really-boys and girls who dealt with death daily and 90% of the time managed to triumph over the old equalizer. They reminded me of my favourite serial, M*A*S*H as they kept sane with crude jokes and basically slapstick comedy. The white blood cells were cowered by the wide spectrum antibiotics. Spread of infection ceased. By the fifth day, I felt hungry. I was now only scared of the ICU and marvelled at those working there day in day out. Finally, I was pronounced stable enough to be moved to a room of my own and the transfer went through.

I left the ICU with mixed feelings. On one hand I was very glad to leave the hall of pain. On the other, deep gratitude, not only to the doctor, but the nurses whose round the clock care had pulled me through. I went to a private room. Here again, I saw the dedication of nursing and doctoring. Finally, nine days after I had gone there, I was allowed to leave the hospital and walked out on my own steam, weak as a cat but alive and well.

I will not sit around anymore. The ICU taught me the value of life and I am going to keep better and hope that nobody has to go there again.

Dust: The Story of a Little Boy

This is a story, with a few people in it. The people are ordinary. Their lives are ordinary. The story is about...well let’s see what it’s about. All I can tell you is it has a little boy in it.

There was once a little boy, you see. He was plump, dressed in shorts all the time, did not like to study and spent his time reading books. His mother used to tell him stories too; but she had an annoying habit of leaving them unfinished.  So, he made up endings to stories all by himself. Usually, they were happy endings. Some, were sad. Most were simple. The first time someone ate ice cream and had a cold. The first time he went to his grandmother’s house and she treated him to Dosa from Udipi’s.

Now, much as we’d like our little boy to remain little; sadly it isn’t so. As time passed the boy grew up. As he grew up, his mind expanded. He became interested in music. He became a fan of some English group with a very strange hairstyle and took to crooning songs at the top of his lungs. He started to take those stories he had written in his youth more seriously and began to compose. He also found he liked to tinker with things and to take things apart.

But then, one evening, the little boy saw something. It was a glimpse rather. A tiny pulse of light. The boy was confused. He could not understand what he had seen. The truth is, he hadn’t seen anything. He had felt something; rather he had sensed someone. But who?

The little boy kept growing, because Time kept passing him by. He kept reading and he kept talking to people. His father, his mother and his grandmother. One thing the boy never understood however; in spite of having grown so much is why people went away. I mean to say- there they were just a few days before and then they sort of went off. They left bodies behind, but then those bodies were not them. The bodies were shells. Where had the people gone?

The boy also remembered glimpsing that same something or someone each time someone went away. Sometimes, he could even tell when someone was going days before they actually left.

And so the boy wondered. Where were all these people? He knew where people came from, he knew about something called “souls”. He subscribed to the belief that “souls” existed. If so, where were the souls?

Then, one day the little boy looked up. He saw stars in the sky. He also felt that someone near him. The little boy realized what he was seeing. He was seeing everyone who had gone away, looking down at him and smiling. His grandmother, who was the first to go. His dog who followed some years later. And most recently, his great grand uncle.

And when the little boy sleeps at night, sometimes he dreams of bad things. He remembers pain. He remembers fears. But then, sometimes he also dreams of the people who have gone and the boy smiles. One day, the little boy, will no longer be called little; and will also go away. He will go up above and he will smile down at another little boy, just like him.

I hope that boy smiles back.

The Bilge Master