Destroyed by 'Ishq'

By Mr. Invisible

It’s not just a cold February morning that freezes all activity
at IIT. The topper of the Computer Science batch is found
hanging inside his room . . . locked from the outside.
A day later, in a fit of anxiety, his best friend erases his suicide
note from his laptop, thereby obliterating the only way that
could have led to understanding the reason behind such a
catastrophe.
The smartest among the group of software experts asked to
retrieve it finally gets hold of it, but silently gives up on finding
it and withdraws with the stolen suicide letter. What is it about
the letter that makes him hide it from the world?
Why does he lose himself in the amaranthine ocean of agony
and forgets all else on reading it?
Love is life-giving, but Destroyed by Ishq explores the other side of love. Are you ready to
turn the page?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Srishti Publishers
• Release date: Nov 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9789382665045

Book preview

SRISHTI PUBLISHERS & DISTRIBUTORS

N-16, C. R. Park

New Delhi 110 019

[e-mail]

First published by

Srishti Publishers & Distributors in 2013

Copyright © Mr. Invisible, 2013

All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

The author asserts the moral right to be identifited as the author of this work.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the Publishers.

Typeset by Eshu Graphic

To my friend who was very

much unlike me.

I want to know

Whether you remember me

Like I remember you,

I want to know

Whether you care for me

Like I care for you,

I want to know

Whether I live in you

Like you live in me,

I want to know

Whether you love me

Like I love you,

I want to know

Whether you’d die for me

Like I died for you,

I want to know

Whether you will be mine

Like I’m yours…

CONTENTS

FOREWORD

BARE BEGINNINGS…

A DAY AGO…

BACK TO HOSTEL…

NEXT DAY: Sorry Rony…

TOO MUCH TO READ…

AARAV…

F4…

FLASHBACK… #1: How I met Tripti

FLASHFRONT… #1: How I met Nivedita

FLASHBACK… #2: Life with Tripti

FLASHFRONT… #2: The Sri Lankan NRI

FLASHBACK… #3: Heartbreak

BACK TO PRESENT: Kaavya…

NUMBER THEORY…

KAAVYA…

ISHQ…WHERE IT BEGAN

VICKY…

THE PROPOSAL…

THE BREAKUP: Season 1…

THE VICKY EFFECT…

THE BREAKUP – SEASON 1 (CONTD..)

REENA…

THE BREAKUP: Season 2…

DRASTIC CHANGES…

SUCHI…

THE BREAKUP: SEASON 3…

EMOTIONAL CONFRONTATIONS…

ISHQ DIVERSIFIED…

DIL, DOSTI, ETC…

5 TH AND THE LAST…

SAFEST WAY TO KILL ME…

LAST THREE DAYS OF MY LIFE…PART 1

LAST THREE DAYS OF MY LIFE…PART 2

FRUSTRATED LOVER…

THE BREAKUP PARTY

UNTOLD AND UNSAID

THE LAST THREE DAYS, PART 3

THE END…?

DESTINIES!

EPILOGUE…

PERSONS YOU HAVE MET…

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

FOREWORD

WAIT! LISTEN TO ME FIRST…

Alright, now that you’re holding this book in your hands, I must ask you two very important questions:

1. What bugs you the most in life?

2. Who is your biggest enemy?

For most of you the answers to both the above questions must be simple to imagine but difficult to state and justify.

Let’s get you some help. Why don’t you write this down in the space below…

C’mon, it isn’t such a big deal. Just pick up a pen and fill these two coloumns -

Now, take a deep breath and tell yourself -

Yes, I have the ability to overcome all problems in life.

Say that aloud. Say that to your closest friend. Say it over and over again.

Now tell yourself -

I have no enemies. I am made to love, not to hate. I love everyone.

Say that aloud. Keep repeating it.

Doesn’t it feel better? I bet it does…

Life is only as complicated as we make it. There is a solution to everything in life and the solution lies in being able to understand the problem and talk about it.

Is there anything you want to say someone? Is there something you’re holding back because you’re worried of the consequences?

Life is short, and so you need to act fast. Don’t waste time in thinking about it, just go ahead and do it!

You might not get another chance.

If you love someone, let them know! Call them now… If a call isn’t possible, send a small text message. Do anything, just don’t hold your feelings back!

I wish you the best of everything! Now you may read the book…

BARE BEGINNINGS…

It was the 11 th day of the 2 nd annual ‘Hacking season’. I was enjoying the evening coffee while watching ‘A beautiful mind’ in my cozy chamber. Rick had just left the room as he wanted to study something. He was my best friend. I had confided the best of my secrets to him. I and Rick were the only two people for whom this month long hacking season really held any meaning. It was an exciting festival for us, which we celebrated together in B/501 – my hostel room which Rick calls ‘The Hacking Headquarters’. A deep feeling of revenge had impregnated this idea in my mind, exactly one year ago. It was simple. For the whole year, we would keep listing down names of people who have been irritating us and then, during the hacking season, we would take over their online presence completely. This meant laying hands over their E-mail and social networking accounts and any other related accounts. We just had one policy – we wouldn’t do any damage to anyone’s real life. We would simply seize an account, keep a copy of all its data, and leave it once we felt the necessary lesson was learnt by the victim by merely being over-concerned about his accounts. ‘It helps them take better care of their accounts in future’, as Rick would justify. He loved the seasons nonetheless.

This time, Rick and I had already laid hands over 91 Google Mail accounts, 108 Yahoo! Accounts, 267 Facebook accounts and several paid subscriptions to file sharing sites, adult dating sites, and what not! It was only yesterday evening that something bad happened and we had to concentrate our efforts towards one single person. It was a tough job, and so I had to take a small movie-break to calm down. Rick, however, was still busy with something. As I was being mesmerized by the aroma of the brewing espresso, my Nokia 3310 beeped, indicating an incoming message –

We need your services urgently, pls rush to room no. 706, Block G

I kept the phone back on my desk. I was well aware what the case might be, and tried not to get over-excited. I had no first-hand knowledge about the scenario, and it seemed like the only opportunity for me to find out what was the real issue behind all the controversial things that had been happening since yesterday. I rose from my chair, placed the empty coffee cup neatly upon the table, and turned to my laptop. I checked my encrypted portable hard-drive to make sure I wasn’t missing any useful software which might be helpful, and then slipped it into my side-bag which also contained my camera, a notepad, and a very useful toolbox with more than a hundred kinds of screw-driver attachments. I couldn’t risk carrying my laptop, as it contained material which could’ve fuelled many other controversies, much more complicated than the one that I was about to witness.

As I opened the door of my 110-sq. feet hacking headquarters, I found Rick still tensed and making notes on his laptop. He looked disturbed.

Don’t you think a little rest won’t do any harm, I asked him knowing that he had barely slept the previous night.

He smiled wryly and said, I find it really difficult to believe it was a suicide.

Yes. But we need some strong evidence before the situations get out of hand, I asserted.

I wondered if we were treading along the right path or not. It was risky. Let’s see what the night has hidden, that the morning shall unveil, I quipped.

He gave me a puzzled look when he realized that I was getting ready to go somewhere.

Mysteries calling! I said as I left Room No. B/501

I took my Canon camera out of my bag and held it tightly, as I always do, in my right hand. The lift door opened at the seventh floor. Several policemen greeted me with suspicious looks. On any given day, I can look more like a terrorist than a typical computer freak. As if my dense, unshaved-since-months, beard, uncombed hair, and bathroom slippers were not enough, the small camera in my hand drove them further into suspicion. I put my right hand inside the side-bag that swayed on my right, hiding the camera, and tried to avoid the smirk some of them sported as I moved towards Room No. 706, which was the office of some insane algorithms professor at IIT.

I entered the centrally air-conditioned room. There was complete silence. Rony and DKP raised their heads to look at me. Bhalu resumed crying. They were his friends. They all had their real names, of course, which were forgotten in the last one and a half years in IIT. Ronit Bansal became Rony – an asshole all the way, Dhirendra Kapur became DKP – a die-hard romantic, and the only one amongst them who failed to get a fancy nickname was Avinash Baruda aka Bhalu (meaning ‘bear’), who hasn’t yet learnt how to use his brain. Of all them, Rony seemed to be the most calm and composed character that day even though everyone else was tensed. Very much unlike him, I noted mentally.

Two professors looked at me with hope. The only other professor in the room was busy talking on the phone in a lonely corner of the room. A police officer was standing near the professors with his eyes intently fixed on a laptop which was, possibly, Aarav’s.

I was just about to speak something when the talkative professor in the lonely corner ended his phone call and spoke,

So you’re that all-knowing hacker…

I am sorry sir, but I’m not a hacker, I tried to divert his mind. I really didn’t understand how they even got the hint of my capabilities. I didn’t want to expose my activities…

Ok, whatever. But these guys think you are the perfect person who can help us at the moment, said the old professor, with a serious look. Without waiting for me to enquire anything he added, There was a suicide note on Aarav’s laptop. His friend Dhirendra, here, was asked to copy it to the pen-drive…

Everyone looked at DKP. He took a deep breath and gave a blank expression. The professor continued, …but he accidentally did shift-delete, instead of control-c…

I couldn’t help smiling. While pressing the ‘Ctrl’ key along with the letter ‘C’ meant copying a file, pressing ‘Shift’ and ‘Delete’ keys together was a well-known shortcut for deleting the selected file permanently, without moving it to the Recycle bin first. How could a computer science student ever do such a silly mistake? I wondered.

Now you have to get that file back, or these guys can be in big trouble, concluded the professor.

It was no big deal for me. Moreover, it could give me an opportunity to get hold of the suicide note and keep it for myself – who knows what can be useful in future. Nobody knew why he had committed suicide. Some even believed it was a murder. I was neutral regarding this as I had no evidence. Moreover, I always feel information is the biggest weapon and must be used wisely and at the perfect time.

Without waiting for any further instructions, I moved near the laptop and began analyzing it. Although I knew it was easy for me, I tried to sound confused because otherwise it would’ve proved in front of everyone that I am actually a hacker. I think only DKP had some hint. As the recovery process began, one of the professors asked me if the file could really be recovered once it was shift-deleted. Morons all of them – They still call themselves professors…

There’s going to be some interesting news in the newspapers tomorrow, the media is excited to know what the ten-page suicide note contained, exclaimed another professor. He was trying his best to keep calm and allow the minimum amount of disclosure to the media. He also asked the police if Kaavya could go home.

We need to interrogate the girl, let her not leave the hostel; this is usually the case with today’s generation. They don’t understand the importance of life, giving too much importance to love… said the horrible looking police officer.

Whatever they were talking was extremely confusing to me. Kaavya, from what I last knew, was Aarav’s girlfriend. I didn’t know what had happened since yesterday. So the only option was to wait and find out what was written in the suicide note. It was going to take several hours to scan a whole four hundred gig (Gigabyte, GB, that’s how we say it) hard drive. So I left room no. 706, and tried to find a quiet place to think about and note down whatever I had just sensed. I sat on the floor, not too far from the area where there was too much depression and sadness in the air, but far enough so that nobody could find me. I opened my spare diary, and began noting down the happenings since yesterday in the highest amount of detail that I could. While I was deeply engrossed, Rony came up and said, please don’t become a psycho, we’ve already witnessed Aarav become one…even if your diaries get destroyed, don’t lose your calm. I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. I kept on looking at him, as he disappeared…

Rony is an asshole all the way. It is something that doesn’t require any evidence. Yet he never fails to put up one. So I usually ignore his remarks.

It suddenly struck me