Not exactly a journal

The grayscale face

2008-08-03T19:21:00.000-07:00

I sharpened the pencil. Papermate HB. Will do.

It's been a long time since I last drew. Almost as long as I last posted on my blog. So I decided to dig in a milestone for both together.

I turned the pages of the book, admiring my beloved sketches, till I reached the first empty sheet. I knew what it was going to be; had known it whole morning.

I poked the fibrous paper with my pencil. That was my 'dot the eye' step. I have always started with eyes. These were special; dark, beautiful, tender and complacent. I put in the eyebrows. I had to do it carefully, preserving the delicate emotions. This wasn't easy, because I face tremendous troubles getting the features right in the first place. There was a lot of rubbing, sketching, spreading before I got it right. I wasn't fully satisfied with my work. I knew I would never be, because I can never get these eyes right, more because I know them so well.

I moved down, to the nose. On another occasion this task would have terrified me, but luckily, the shadows the evening window created made the outline easier. The pencil caressed the paper, delicately sketching out the shadows. The pencil did the work, as I watched the graphite on the paper fondly.

Postponing the mouth, I decided to sketch the outline first. This didn't take long, as the pencil was eager to touch the lips.

The lips then. The mouth was curved into a pleasant smile. It's one of the most soothing curves I have ever seen. I let my tool do the work. It created the smile out of three cheek to cheek curves. I was really pleased with the work. Soon there were three more on my face.

The pencil then moved towards the cheek, to puff them up. It made shadows that made the cheeks obvious. It then dug indentations through the fiber to create the dimples. Things were now starting to look 3-D.

I caressed the chin once more with my pencil, to make it smooth, knowing it would never match the real.

That left me with just the hair. I loved these; their darkness, their waviness. I let them flow down like a stream from the graphite source, preserving their shine in the black and white. I let the pencil swim down them, attempting all strokes till I could stand the envy no more.

After a few finishing touches, I signed my name and wrote the date, as always.

I then lay back to look at the sketch from a distance, and blinked.

It was so lovely, that I wanted to be graphite myself.

Settling into

2007-09-05T10:05:00.000-07:00

On 2nd of August 2007, I was brought to a stop from over 900 kph in less than half a minute. While high up in the air a pelican searched for its lost offspring, I came out of the flying machine. The air smelled differently. The sky was an unfamiliar shade of blue. I was in a different country.

A few hours later, as a squirrel prepared its bed for the night, a car zoomed past its hedge towards east. As I looked out its untinted window, I saw a dark campus with three-feet railings on the side of the roads. I couldn't wait.

A few days later, I decided that I couldn't eat junk forever and wanted to start cooking as soon as possible. It was around that time that the sun decided to cover itself and I felt relieved that I had an umbrella.

On 6th of August 2007, I was told what rights I have in the classroom as a teaching assistant. I also learned that 911 is the favorite number of most paranoid people here. At the same time, I realized that it was prime and suddenly felt respect for it.

Three days later, as a few hares hopped around under the sun searching for food and a bunch of sparrows thought Wabash river to be the best thing to fly above, I was made to sit in a huge air-conditioned lecture hall a mile away and told how I must maintain my status in this country. I still find the phrase funny.

During the next week, when my department orientation was going on, I sat in a classroom, looking outside the window wondering where the hell all the animals were in this place. And it was then that I started noticing stupid-looking dogs that people here have as pets.

On 15th of August 2007, I gave the Oral English Proficiency Test and I am till awaiting my result, after having taken two classes.

On 18th of August 2007, I lay on the rocking chair in my room, exhausted but satisfied, after having shifted all the luggage and furniture to my apartment.

Two days later, while a few sparrows searched for shelter from the downpour and it thundered louder than a lion's roar, I went to my first class and stayed awake throughout. A week later, I bunked my first class unintentially. A day later, I bunked another just because I didn't feel like walking all the way to the class.

On 23rd of August 2007, at 7:30 AM, I took my first TA recitation class ever, when I would much rather have been sleeping on my cozy bed.

On 25th of August 2007, as a few sinister monkeys broke branches of a mango tree in an institute campus tens of thousands of miles away, I finally got to get out of the town. I fought with the waves, burnt my back, enjoyed volleyball, Frisbee and even amateur trekking. Totally satisfying.

During the next one week, while the big fish searched for the smaller fish to feast upon in the Wabash, I enjoyed free food in a lot of places.

As the days passed, it hit me suddenly that more than a month had passed since I came here and I remembered an old saying about time.

On 5th of September 2007, early in the morning, which happens to be now, I feel that I'm running out of my 'a bird fragged' photos. It's time to get my camera out and take a walk.

And as you no doubt have already guessed, I badly want to visit a zoo.

________________________________________________________

And below is a pic just for the heck of having one. That's the Wabash river at night. No points for guessing who the cameraman was.

And here's one more, just to give some company to the first one. That's me on the trail along a pond next to Wabash.

Kodachadri Trek

2007-03-16T09:08:00.001-07:00

Kodachadri is a mountain peak (altitude - 1843 m above sea level) in the Western Ghats in Karnataka. We went trekking here in December 2006. The place is very close to the temple town of Kollur and can be easily reached by bus.

The total length of the trek is about 16 kilometers.

We started the trek at 9:45 in the morning from a place called Karakatte. The initial part of the trek was a three hour walk on a more or less even slope till we reached a cricket pitch.

For the next three hours, we trekked through a forest and hilly area which eventually leads to a mini village about an hour before the peak. We had lunch at this place and rested for a while before continuing our trek to the peak.

The last phase of the trek involved an extremely steep and slippery climb with only roots of trees providing footholds for us. On the way we reached a Shiva temple where the only thing we could do was pray to God and hope for our safe return. The last half an hour of trek was extremely tiring but we knew that the end would be worth the effort and we kept moving on. At about 4 PM, more than 6 hours (which included lunch and numerous breaks) after we had begun the trek from Karakatte, we reached the peak. The peak provided a panoramic view of the Western Ghats and we could see as far as the Arabian sea which was about 70 kms away. We stayed at the peak for about two more hours, hoping to see a good view of the sunset from the top, but had to return before it as we had no torches. We took a good number of pictures of the scenic view, and a few have been uploaded here.

This has been the most exciting, enjoyable and satisfying trek that I have been to.

After the trek, we climbed down to the village on the hill and had dinner. We were lucky enough to find a jeep that could give us a ride back to Kollur where we spent the night.

Trek Video (Only the peak) on Youtube

Heart's doing

2006-03-29T00:12:00.000-08:00

I have always done this part badly. Approaching them and telling them what I want to say has always been a difficult task. And this one doesn’t look easy at all. There is no way out of it. I can not escape from it. I look at her through the glass window. She’s sitting on the bench outside. I have to tell her what I have to tell her. Even the thought of telling her what the heart had done (to me?) strips the courage off my mind.

It’s always been difficult for me. To remove the “mask”. Approach them. Tell them what I have to tell them. And then wait silently for their reaction. For the explosion of a volcano. Or for the fall of the silent rain. Or for a look that could be sharp enough to pierce my heart.

It’s not that I am scared of telling them what I have to tell them. It’s the consequences that bother me. It’s the consequences that make the move difficult. It takes immense courage to tell them the truth. You could hurt them. You could break their heart. Or worse, the somber look that they might give you could be impossible to avert. It’s not an easy thing to do man, I tell you. Does take a lot of guts.

Only last year, I had a similar task (self imposed?) into my head. There was this girl, sitting outside again. On the very bench of the campus that I’m looking at now. Oh she was pretty. I liked her. It would be crime to break her heart with what I had to tell her. Her eyes were like pearls of fire, whatever that means. Her hair flowed down like a waterfall nature couldn’t create. Her lips were like fresh petals of a red rose. Only if I had seen the hidden thorns…. I was going to tell her what I had to tell her. I was going to spill the truth, tell her what was in my heart. I approached her. She looked up. I wanted to look away from those eyes. They were piercing. And. With all force, I mounted all the courage that I had. Told her. And stood there. Waiting for a response. She didn’t say a thing. She didn’t complain. Didn’t cry, scream, abuse or show any kind of emotion. But her eyes failed to conceal her mind. I can never forget those eyes. I wanted her to scream at me. Abuse me. At least cry. It would have been easier to handle than those piercing heart-broken eyes. She looked at me for less than a second (enough to kill me), lifted herself and went in. I had failed twice, one failure following the other.

And time rolls forward again, bringing me back to the present which has presented me with a similar situation. I conjure all the courage that I have, and push the door. I’ve never walked slower. Approaching this girl looks like a tough task. I hope I walk along these green walls for eternity and not make it to her. That would save all the trouble. But even the slowest tortoise reaches the finish line. And I reach it too. She, suddenly aware of my presence looks up. I look at her eyes and they reflect the sky in them. I can clearly see the clouds of hope in her eyes. I wish what I say turn those clouds into silent rain, or better a violent thunder. That would be easy to handle than the silence, which just causes the clouds to darken so that it’s impossible to look through them. I open my mouth. The clouds in her eyes are now pregnant with hope. And I fail again, just like the heart. I suddenly am aware that I can’t say it properly. The knowledge of my inability to do this part properly has wound itself around my tongue. I can not lie. I can not manipulate my words to keep her from exploding. I can not run away. It’s do and die. I have to remove the mask. I have to tell her about the heart (mine?, her?, his?). The heart that started it all. The heart that has brought me to her. I tell myself: Forget the heart. Just tell her. And closing my brain to the imminent explosion, I say to her: ”I’m very sorry ma’am. I couldn’t save your brother. The heart was just too weak”.

Back to the past - I

2006-02-13T06:47:00.000-08:00

Aaah! It hits me again. Life has suddenly come to a standstill. No new thoughts... All memories from the past are surfacing for no reason. I am not entirely sure if it's a blow of nostalgia. I am not longing for anything. And I am definitely not homesick.

Quizzes are about to begin. I can clearly see the face of the monster ready to pounce on me. I am expected to open a few books and find out what the sixth sem is all about and prepare myself for this battle. Nine days. Six quizzes. One man....without satisfactory preparation. Unfortunately, I don't feel like opening a book at the moment. It's one of those few moments when I just don't feel like studying. Coming to that, I don't feel like doing anything, thanks to this feeling that I am not able to define.

I've spent the last half an hour thinking about my life when I was at school. I imagined myself sitting with my old classmates making fun of this teacher we all hated, gossiping, enjoying inter-class tussles which often left some students injured and not to be forgotten - playing in the football field. I've been scoring a lot of goals for the last few minutes. In my dream. This is not an unnatural phenomenon. We call it day dreaming.
I love dreaming. In my dreams, I am all powerful, I am omnipresent. I can see everything and everyone and do anything I want. And combining football with power has always been a great passion of mine. So I continue to score goals, even though I am single handedly playing against 11 players. It is fun, trust me. But gets a bit boring when I am not able to invent new goal-scoring stunts. So let me leave the dream for sometime. For good.

It's a relief that I've come out of that stupid dream. Dreams can be dangerous, though they might give you the pleasure of doing something extraordinary, which may not be possible in real life.
Let me ponder over what I've been doing for the past one hour. I haven't done anything significant. I didn't save the world. I didn't kiss a girl. I didn't bungee jump. I didn't scuba dive. I didn't vanquish a super-villian. The only thing I have been doing is play football. With a few friends whom I haven't seen for five years.. In a dream...

I have tried hard to classify this feeling. Memories from the past have been breaching my skull for the past one hour and I haven't been able to control them. I find myself staring at the rotating fan....for no specific reason. Am I nostalgic? I don't think so. Homesick? No way. Do I like my past more than my present? I don't know. Even if I do, I am fully aware that there is no way I can go back in time, whatever H.G.Wells might say. I must find out a way to overcome this emotion (if it is one) and get back to my work-out which will help me in the battle. Lemme concentrate on the present...........

--------------------------10 min later---------------------

I didn't know blogging was so effective. It brought me back into the present from the past. I've been so immersed into blogging that I completely forgot about being in the past. Or rather, past forgot about being in my present. Random memories have finally decided to go back into the deep neural network. I feel great. Powerful. I see the books lying on the bed. The power button on the computer is starting to look too friendly. I can study now. With strength. With will. With full attention........BANG! (a soft knock on the door).....What did he say?.....No quiz tomorrow! ....Postponed?.......sigh, that's a relief..... I can relax now...

-------------------------a minute later---------------------

Ashish! Ashish! Ashish! Yes....I can do it. Fifty yards, it must be. Here comes the ball. Nice pass, buddy! Here I go up in the air. The world is upside down. Perfect bicycle kick! Inspired from Shaolin Soccer. And there goes the bullet towards the enemy. And it's a GOAL!!!

The blizzard of OS

2005-12-08T23:50:00.002-08:00

And here it comes...the end of another semester.

In all my time at IIT, I have never seen before a semester that could move this fast. It only seems like last week that I came here and poof!, its over. In two more days, I'll be packing my bags and going back. The sem has ended before I get a chance to blink an eye. Of course, at the end of this sem, I am blinking an 'I'.

If I look back and think about what I did this semester, I can think of infinite things - gym, swimming everyday, the usual beginning-of-sem-volleyball, infinite Quake, courses - good and bad and those countable infinite assignments. Other than the one mentioned last, all the others seem like they were there long ago, say last sem or something. It feels like this sem was cut into two parts, the first one being the one I enjoyed and the second one being the shorter one and the painful one. It has somehow settled into my mind that the first part has somehow juugged out of this sem and this sem consisted only of the second part. And I believe that this is the reason this sem seems so short to me.

I am here to talk about this second part. The part that consisted of infinitely long assignments, thanks to one course. A core course. An important course. And these assignments are what changed me a lot. I can't recall myself ever behaving in a rude manner, or showing any signs of bad temper. But this sem saw all these ill qualities surfacing in me at times. And I give the credit to the assignments that I had. The assignments that I had to do. The assignments our prof thought we can't live without. OS implementation.

And it was these assignments that took my life away from me. Every alternate weekend, we would be required to submit one project. These projects were not simple. We needed proper guidance and the documentation was horrible. It would take double the time to debug the code than to write the code. One small error would eat up hours of our time. These assignments demanded a lot of time from us. We would sit for hours in front of the monitor, wondering where to begin, where to continue and more importantly, what to do. If not for help from friends, it would have been difficult to do even half of them. And it was then when I started to get pissed off by these projects. I could see the point of doing those assignments, but there were parts where I was just doing what I was expected to do without knowing why I was doing what I was doing. There was a lot of guess-work involved. The throughput was very less with these projects. Night-outs after night-outs were proving futile. And then the buffer of patience started to overflow. I started to get angry at small things very easily. And unfortunately, I know a few people who would try to irk a man if they have the slightest hint that he's not enjoying what he's doing. This increased the rate of patience overflow. Even after knowing that I'm getting pained by the work overload, they would pretend that I am the most jobless fellow on the planet and enjoy the dumb joke with a few more people. I started to get angry at such people. Under ordinary circumstances, I would have ignored them or joined them in the laughing. But my wall of patience had been gored by the painful assignments. One evening, I shouted at a few people and felt really satisfied. Another evening, up went the finger for the first time in someone's face. This had never happened before. Along with the feeling of satisfaction, there was shock hidden somewhere inside me. I had changed. I felt a bit ackward and I realized that I was no longer the calm guy I used to be.

I knew I had to control my anger before it could do me harm. And I decided to give it some sleeping pills. I needed a break from the projects and there came exams, like uncalled saviours. Exams kept me away from projects. I sensed that this is the best time to revert the change. I apologized to the people I had shouted at. I decided to keep my tongue under control. And it worked well. I was no longer short tempered, but I was serious still. And the seriousness helped me in smashing the exams. And when the exams got over, back came the assignments. And to my surprise and relief, they didn't bring back the short temper with them. They didn't bring back the mental anguish. This was because doing them had reached the end of my priority list. I was busy with the compilers assignment. I had given up all hopes of ever finishing the OS assignment. And this knowledge of having given up kept any kind of pressure from me. The compilers assignment went well and I felt satisfaction as I had never felt before. Keeping the thought of the OS assignment away from my mind helped me a lot. And when I checked yesterday, lying in the unread box was the OS assignment. And today is when I opened it. I wonder if I'll ever mark it as unread. The submission is at 2 o'clock tomorrow and I haven't done anything. It'll be impossible to finish it in less than 24 hours. So I think I'll be getting an 'I' (incomplete) grade in this course, unless the prof takes some pity on the students and cancels the project which I think would be a wise decision.

Before I drop the keyboard I think its time to wake up the real Ashish and make sure that he is indeed the Ashish I used to know. Yeah, and the waking up is gonna take some time, for sure.

Course Feedback Form

2005-04-15T06:07:00.000-07:00

Today was the day I thought most of us had been waiting for.
Because today was the day we were going to assess one of our least favorite profs, or atleast my least favorite. The prof. who caused us so much misery. Yes, today, were we going to fill this prof's Teacher-Feedback-Form. And I had already made plans to give her the least grades possible, exactly what she deserved. Little did I know that my classmates had no such intention.

I got up early today, knowing that it was an important day. Not that it made any difference as I went late to the class anyway and had to sit in the front row. And there she was, going on about some stupid code-checking rubbish. Now, it may not be rubbish, but the way she was explaining the thing made it sound worse than anything I had learnt before, from whatever I can recall.

It was a normal C-slot class. We were doing what we always do. We were busy taking down notes quietly in the class, making no effort to understand anything, finally having realized that it won't work. The prof. speaks faster than anyone I have ever heard, and makes full attempt to keep us from understanding anything. Knowing that we can't understand what she teaches, she continues to blabber something about I-never-know-what and we continue to stare at her till the end of the class. It almost seems like she doesn't want us to learn. In her class, I always carry the look of a person who's not able to understand anything, to make her realize that I am not. Asking questions is of no use either. She'll never answer your question in a straight way. She'll always find out a way of dodging the question and at the same time, have you convinced that you have understood even though you wouldn't have. Though a few people in the class try bugging her till they get an answer, they always end up confused by the end of the class.

Its not that she doesn't know her stuff. I am sure she knows it very well and she must be one of the best in her subject in the whole country. But the thing is, she has turned this course into a self study course. Hardly anyone understands what she teaches in the class (or atleast I feel so) and the only way to pass the course is to study at home. So that's what we do. We study on our own, write those not-so-nice quizzes of hers and get some marks. Now, it so happens that according to her, our marks are way too low and with a hint of sarcasm she as good as says that we are just a bunch of dunderheads who are not able to understand even the basic concepts. This angers most of us, or atleast me, but we just sit quiet and wait for our time.

And today, we were given the chance to assess her. I had obviously planned what to fill in the feedback form, the truth. I knew I would be giving her an average of 3.5 or even lesser. I was quiet sure that my classmates will be doing the same. I was waiting desperately for the class to end, but it seemed very slow today. And if that was not enough, she added to my impatience by extending the class by 10 minutes. Finally, as she left, she gave the feedback forms to the class representative, who was sitting next to me. I took one, and I filled it up quite fast. I think I gave her an average of 4.5. I thought it would be quite good for her usual standards. Something like a treat.. But then, as the class rep. started recieving the assessment sheet from different directions, I caught a glimpse of a two or three and it gave me a shock. I took the forms and started going through them (not literally). There were forms with an average of over 8.5. Not one or two, but more than 3-4ths of them. And then I wondered: How can these people, most of whom I was sure disliked the prof, grade the prof so leniently? There surely wasn't anything wrong with my judgement. I expected everyone to grade the way I did. But I was wrong somewhere. What is wrong with these people? Do they grade this way to please the prof? Or do they expect some kind of treat in return for this favour? That won't count in the case of the prof concerned. She would grade us peacefully only because we graded her that way no sooner than Bako would give up. Or is it that they are just scared of the prof? Or according to my editor Der Bus, they just don't feel like grading a prof badly, however bad he/she might be?

Whatever the reason might be, what happened in the class today was very irritating. Though while writing this blog now, I feel that it doesn't matter that much. I shouldn't be making such a big deal out of it. Everyone has their own opinions and how they grade a prof is totally up to them.

Barkos Liebesgeschichte

2005-04-03T03:01:00.000-07:00

Das Geschichte ist über ein Affe und seine Liebeleben. Der Affe heißt Barko. Seine Liebesgeschichte folgt:

Barko hat sie erste mal auf dem Mangobaum getroffen. Barko hat sie sehr attraktiv gefunden. Ihre Augen sind groß. Ihre Ohren sind sind lang.
Ihre Name war Koki.
Koki hat Barko gefallen gut. Barko hat sie heiraten gewollt. Am nächsten Tag hat Barko es ihr gesagt. Sie hat aber ihm gesagt:
"Entschuldigung. Ich liebe schon jemand anders." Als Barko es gehört hat, war er sehr traurig.
Barko war so traurig, dass er zu sprechen aufgehört hat. Er hat bald zu essen und zu trenken aufgehört. Er hat krank geworden.
In Barkos Nachbarschaft war noch eine Affin. Ihre Name war Miki. Barko hat ihr gefallen. Als sie wusste, dass Barko krank war, war sie
traurig. Sie hat zum Barkos Baum gekommt. Sie hat 10 Tage lang ihm geholfen. Barko war bald gesund. Er hat ihr viel gedanken. Sie hat gesagt:
"Ich hat dir geholfen, weil du mir gefällst." Barko hat sie gefragt: "Du bist sehr nett. Willst du mich heiraten?"
Und heute sind Barko und Miki verheiratet. Sie haben eine große Familie. Sie haben Ihren eigenes Baum.

(This blog has been published in German. The English vesion is yet to come)

Hood in the Wood

2005-04-01T04:25:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who lived in a village near the Sherwood forest. Whenever, she went out, the little girl wore a red riding cloak, so everyone in the village called her Little Red Riding Hood.

One morning, Little Red Riding Hood asked her mother if she could go to visit her grandmother as it had been a while since they'd seen each other.

"That's a good idea," her mother said. So they packed a nice basket for Little Red Riding Hood to take to her grandmother.

Remember, go straight to Grandma's house," her mother cautioned. "Don't dawdle along the way and please don't talk to strangers! The forest is dangerous. There could be thieves and outlaws or worse, wolves, just waiting for a little girl like you. "

"Don't worry, mommy," said Little Red Riding Hood, "I'll be careful."

And so the little girl left the village for a not-so-long journey towards her Grandma's house.

A few hours later, Red Riding Hood knocked on the door of her Grandma's house.

"Who is it?" said a deep voice.

"It's me, Little Red Riding Hood."

"Oh, how lovely! Do come in, my dear," said the deep voice.

When Little Red Riding Hood entered the little cottage, she saw that her Grandma was still in bed and had covered her face with the bed sheets.

"Grandmother! Your voice sounds so odd. Is something the matter?" she asked.

"Oh, I just have touch of a cold," squeaked a voice from under the bed sheets.

"Grandma, are you sure you are OK? You seemed to have put on a lot of weight.", said Little Red Riding Hood, looking at the huge pile under the bed sheets, which she thought was her grandmother.

"I am OK, dear," said a hoarse voice quite unlike the first voice.

"Come out of your bed sheets, Grandma, or I will leave. I came here to see you and you don’t seem to be wanting to meet me at all." said the little girl.

And to Little Red Riding Hood's shock, two men leaped out of the bed.

"Hi there little girl, I am Lincoln Greened Robin Hood. Scared you, didn’t we?" said the first man.

"And I am Little John of Sherwood, Little Red Riding Hood." said the other who was taller than the first one by a foot.

"Are you going to eat me now?" asked Little Red Riding Hood.

"No, little girl, we are here to protect you from a wolf who, according to sources, plans to eat you." said the man who called himself Robin Hood.

"The source being my dear friend, Will Stutely the rude." said Little John of Sherwood.

"No, no, you are making a big mistake. The wolf is supposed to come here and eat me. That’s how the story is supposed to be.” said Little Red Riding Hood.

“No, dear girl. This is a modified version of that old story. After hours of begging, did we get these roles. We can’t just let that dirty wolf of the wood gobble you up. The wolf will be killed and we will take you back to your mom.” said Lincoln Greened Robin Hood.

Bang! There was a soft knock on the door and the next moment the door fell in. And as expected, there barged in a big dirty wolf.

“Sorry, I am late.“ said the hungry beast to Little Red Riding Hood. Then his gaze fell on the two sturdy men in the room. “And who the hell are you and what are you doing here?” he asked.

“I am not sure if you were informed, but there is a small change in the story. We are Robin Hood and Little John of the Wood and we are here to protect Little Red Riding Hood from you, dirty wolf.” said Robin.

“Well, that’s just unacceptable. You see, I am really hungry and I was under the impression that I will be allowed to eat this little girl. Now you tell me that’s not how all this is supposed to go. I will eat both of you as well.” said dirty wolf of the wood and he pounced on the two men.

“Hold on, dirty wolf! I have got an idea. You can eat that stupid woodcutter outside and we will take the girl with us. Is that alright?” said Little John of Sherwood.

The wolf thought for a moment and said, “Yeah, I think it’s a good idea. Ok, I’ll be leaving then. See you sometime later in another grandmother’s house. Let me take care of that woodcutter now”

Little did the wolf know that woodcutters are quite unlike woodpeckers. They carry an axe with them most of the time. And when he went outside the cottage, standing there was this woodcutter with his sharp axe. There was a howl, a scream and a thud and the next moment everything went quiet.

Meanwhile, inside the cottage, the two outlaws were celebrating their triumph over the wolf.

“Took proper care of that dirty wolf, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, I didn’t even have to use my crossbow.”

“Wait a sec. Where is the girl?”

“Oh God. She isn’t here. What are we going to do now?”

“Let’s go out and search for the girl.”

The two men came out of the cottage and saw that there were footsteps leaving the cottage. Understanding that the girl had gone in that direction, they followed the footsteps.

After hours of walking, the two outlaws reached another cottage which was so big that twenty wolves could be staying there. They knocked on the door and waited for a response from whoever was inside.

The door opened and the men walked in, to see what they least expected.

To their horror, the room was full of wolves. They were about a dozen wolves inside sitting around a dining table gaping hungrily at them. And there she was, Little Red Riding Hood in the center, staring at those two as well.

“What in the god’s name is going on here? Am I dreaming?” said Little John of Sherwood.

“No, you are awake, big beef. And you better prepare yourself to be eaten raw by wolves.” said Little Red Riding Hood.

“How can this be possible? Are we seeing the girl we saved from a dirty wolf in association with a family of wolves?” squeaked Robin Hood the brave.

Little Red Riding Hood looked at them and said,

“Neither am I little, nor am I red. I am in fact a werewolf. And what you see here is my family. They are all my siblings and pure wolves. I am the only one gifted here, the lone werewolf. The wolf you got killed today by the woodcutter was a wolf we all despised, for he was quite unlike we are. We asked him to join us but he refused. So our next step was to get him killed. And there you were, ready to help anyone who needed help.
I was sure that you would get rid of that wolf for me.
But you weren’t brave enough to kill the wolf yourself. You got him killed by the woodcutter. It doesn’t matter anyway. At the end of the day, we have our enemy killed and tasty dinner at home.”

And then, she froze up all of a sudden and within a second, turned into a wolf.

Next moment, there were howls, screams, thuds and then everything went quiet.