How to Take a Better SELFIE?


Taking a selfie is an art, as much, eating a pastry is dieting. Both way, you look fat, or at least, fatter than you think you should legitimately look. But in the second case, you don’t look ugly!

So here are ways in which you can take a better selfie:

  1. Rather than spending money on a complete-face-reconstruction-plastic-surgery, try to visit exotic locations. The figuratively breathtaking scenary in the background will compensate for the literally breathtaking face in the foreground.
  2. Try to apply filters, however, though they may boost your confidence for the photoshoot, they unfortunately do not work in real life!
  3. Try to crop your face out of the picture.
  4. Doodle on your face, so as to hide the skin.
  5. Break the front camera, so that you can take pictures only with your rear camera which has better resolution, not that it will help though.
  6. Try wearing make up, and if you are already wearing it, you should try removing it ASAP (Because, ‘why bear the weight of an unfruitful solution?’).
  7. Try to smile, without showing your teeth and what you had last night.
  8. Throw away the phone and blame it for making you look ugly.
  9. Wear a batman mask in all your selfies. The MASK, is an even better choice.
  10. Appreciate the fact, that looks don’t determine the quality of your character. What a perfectly clicked & beautiful selfie can do, a suddenly clicked & ugly selfie can do too, for they are both totally useless. Instead, turn your eyes towards the scenary in the background instead of showing it your back. (OPTIONAL: Now ask your friend to click a picture. This will look comparatively better than the selfie!)

Arkadeep Mukhopadhyay

Editor-in-chief
Antarctica Daily

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The Heaviest Bag


The shoulders were drooping, the posture was stooping and the dogs were….never mind, as I walked by the river on my way to office. I admired the shining and glistening sunlight reflecting off of my shoulder, but the truth was that even if a small drop of rain precipitated on my shoulder, it was enough to throw me to the holy ground as I was already past my yielding limit. 

I wanted to sit, but I could not, for if I did, I may never get up, unless dug up! The weight was unbearable, and had it been anyone else with strength, a little lesser than mine, waiting with the weight could have wetted them! I was waiting. Waiting for God to lift my limp body, high up into the air, not exactly to pay a visit to heaven, but more so, to relieve me of by bag.

But, suddenly there was movement. I sensed my shoulders rise. And it continued to rise. It rose higher and higher and still higher, unlike my salary. But, then I discovered a hole. A deep one. My bag had fallen off my shoulders and had perforated the Earth!

Next day I read in headlines, that a bag had suddenly risen up from the ground, destroying a skyscraper in the process, at a place geographically opposite to where the bag had fallen off yesterday!

Arkadeep Mukhopadhyay
Editor-in-chief
Antarctica Daily

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Walking in Rain is Easy


Almost as a daunting venture, I have successfully failed to comply with the title of the book in the first chapter itself. Instead of a ‘thought experiment in lonely solitude’, I did a ‘physical experiment with a friend of mine’ to investigate the above mentioned hypothesis. I have jeopardized the life of my friend and have been sued by his parents for ‘an academic attempt to end an innocent life’, but despite the odds have found a profound answer to the question of “Whether is it easy to walk in rain?” The short answer is Boolean and is ‘NO’. The long answer is what the remaining of the chapter is about.
You see, I had already warned my friend that the experiment we are about to perform is dangerous, well I don’t remember whether I had exactly used the word ‘dangerous’, I may have used Interesting, but either way I wished to convey the same meaning. I am saying this to ensure that you too should not sue me for endangering my friend’s life. So the plan was to wait for the rain and when it does come, to walk in it. It did come, quite suddenly, exactly when I was about to go to college. So I had to cancel college. Also I had to kidnap my friend temporarily to make sure that he too misses college. After punching me twice symbolically for compelling him to miss college, and hugging me twice soulfully for compelling him to miss college, he gave in to the testing of the hypothesis.
So we chose a submerged plot of land, and while the heaven was pouring uncontrollably, we decided to walk on it. I sent my friend first, and my friend went first, quite proudly. I was beginning to write off the observation as ‘walking in rain is easy’, until my eyes caught onto a peculiar pattern. For every step that he took, my friend was diminishing in size! I initially blamed it on the visual perspective, knowing that things when faraway look smaller, but then I realized that the entire body of my friend was not diminishing in size uniformly. Though his height was reducing, his oversized head was still the same size! In fact, his hands, which were raised high up in the air, were being waved frantically which resonated alarmingly well with the “HELP ME!” shouts whose source, as one might unmistakably say, was his wide open mouth! It took me a few seconds to understand that my friend was gradually drowning. It took me a few more minutes to recollect that my friend had dropped out of the swimming course. And about ten minutes of careful observation and decision-making later, I really felt the need to go and help him. By then, only his longest hair protruded the water surface, which is odd considering the effects of surface tension of water-keratin interface. I being a master swimmer and winner of local swimming competitions, ran as fast as I could, with determination and dedication, in the opposite direction! It was really torturous and remorseful for me to observe my friend drown. In fact, the fear was so overwhelming that it washed away every single bit of helpfulness that had penetrated my mind.
That day, after dusk, I visited the same place again. The rain had stopped and the water had receded from the surroundings, but not from the spot, my friend had drowned. It was then, almost as a lightning, it struck me that the spot we had chosen to test a hypothesis on walking, was in fact the center of a small lake, or may be a periphery of a large lake, it depends on your perspective! People say, lightning doesn’t strike twice. Well it struck me! A hand possessing a familiar grip suddenly crushed my right shoulder. I turned around and faced a ghost. My friend, or his ghost, was staring me right into my eyeballs! But he looked older, way older. Then lightning struck for the third time and I realized it was his father! Who was angrier than when I had broken the windshield of their new sedan with a deuce ball. What happened next, I will prefer not to share, because I had once taken a vow that I will never let curse words contaminate my literary works. In short, I was taken to police station for an attempt to murder, unless my friend spoke up for me and said that it was he who had deliberately walked into the lake and that I was seemingly innocent. Though, he added the police can penalize me for compelling him to miss the day’s college and hence, miss out a lecture on topic of narcotic drugs, which he believed, was essential to his academic development. The police in turn, turned red with anger and sued my friend’s father for falsely seeing me with attempted murder, and gifted me with a big box of chocolates for being the victim of an attempted conspiracy! But who saved my friend after he drowned, is a mystery to me till date.
To conclude, the only thing I learnt is that you should never walk in the rain, even if it camouflages your tears. Hence, by the law of induction, we can prove that, walking in rain is NOT EASY!

Arkadeep Mukhopadhyay
Editor-in-chief
Antarctica Daily

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The Hardest Time of our Lives


Note: You might want to point out that the heading of this chapter refers to experiences which are relative and hence should not be generalized, but believe me, I will not encourage any such advice, even if it looks rude!
Now let us talk about the hardest time of our lives. Or, just to follow the tradition of not keeping my words, let us talk about the hardest time of my life, which though isn’t yours, will still interest you, given that we both differ in only about 1.4 million genetic base pairs out of the massive 3.3 billion which we possess per set of genome inherited from each of our parent.
So this hardest time, is constituted by the infinite stretch of time in between the events of ordering the food and being served, in a restaurant. I like to take my time playing with the menu card, and ordering awkward permutations and combinations of the recipes. The waiter is usually always utterly confused, after taking an order from me, the reason of which I have described in the following lines. I usually start by ordering the sweet dish, and when the waiter meekly revolts by suggesting me starters and appetizers, I grandly revolt by throwing away the menu card, which as a rule, lands on the freshly served food in the neighboring table. The food laden menu card is returned to me along with a few unpleasant words, which could be avoided now, from the victim of my throw. But as soon as I get back the menu card, I start ordering like a gentleman. I slide my slender (that’s a lie) fingers down the pages of the menu, while uttering, “All of these, all of these too and yeah…. all of these as well.” The waiter eventually identifies the sarcasm in my attitude, though there isn’t any, and asks me to order like a gentleman which is exactly what I have been doing since the last few minutes. It distresses me! And I throw the menu card again, and this time it lands on a freshly prepared dish, yet to be served. This time I receive my dosage of ‘unpleasantaries’ from my waiter, whom I ignore for the moment. Now, I order the real ‘orderings’ and my ordeal begins! It begins very swiftly, but ends sluggishly. But before it ends, things happen, which I will describe in this chapter along with my theories on why those happen.
At first, I wait like a happy man, then like a hungry man and ultimately like a homeless man, staring at the fellow families feasting with their fists submerged in delicacies. And then the magic happens. I see a waiter approaching. He comes closer. We have an eye contact. He looks at me contently. I return the gaze intently. A faint smile appears at the corner of his lips. A wide smile decorates my mandibles and maxillae. My heart starts to beat faster and had there been a doctor close enough, I might have been prescribed medicines for suffering from tachycardia. Serotonin and dopamine floods my vascular vessels. And as I stare purposefully at the approaching waiter, he breaks the eye contact and walks away with a haughty temper to serve a neighboring table. I felt lost! All that I had dreamt of, all that I was dreaming of, was substituted by a nightmare, an anger, a revengeful vengeance. I felt the gourmet within me die a slow death.
I could have continued the description of the situation, but trying to recollect those horrible moment is compelling me to stop thinking about it. SO let us skip forward a few lengthy hours, which according to my watch were a few ‘minute’ seconds! I heard a clank of dishes, followed by another. I woke up from the trance induced by depression and starvation. My food was here! All of it!! Every single dish!!!
After a fierce battle and an eventful hour later, I stood on the footpath, hailing for a cab, with my weight, at the least, tripled!

Arkadeep Mukhopadhyay
Editor-in-chief
Antarctica Daily

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Mosquito Murder Saga


Warning: This chapter contains a lot of violence and gruesome details of blood spilled during murders of guilty mosquitoes. If you are, once were, or will be a mosquito or you support mosquito breeding and you are against spilling the blood of mosquitoes, which, by the way, they had once sucked from you, then you should not continue reading this chapter. The author and the publisher is not responsible for any mental trauma that you might suffer from for ignoring this warning.
From a distance it looks like a clap. From proximity, it sounds like a slap. But in reality, it is a murder.
I will narrate the story of Taylor, which could be the name of a woman (e.g., Taylor Swift) or the surname of a man (e.g., Ross Taylor), but since it could also possibly be the surname of a woman (e.g., Sarah Taylor), I will use the pronoun ‘she’ to address ‘her’, although I do not deny ‘he’ would have fitted the murderous profile of the individual quite well, perhaps better!
She was a pathologist at the Hospital affiliated to the University of MosQuito, which was the leading educational institution in the city of Quito, the capital of Ecuador which is close to the Equator. She used to continuously draw blood for a living, which she used to analyze to ensure her patients continued living. But she faced tough competition from the inhabitant mosquitoes which sucked up more blood than she could draw in as many as ten blood tests.
Most of her patients came to her, having negative blood volumes and so skinny that their skin was all covered by their bones! The mosquitoes soon improved their techniques to suck blood and set up concentration camps all throughout the city, where they concentrated the blood, unwillingly donated by several citizens and then ingested them with pleasure. In return, the mosquitoes gifted the humans with pathogenic strains of deadly viruses and protozoans like Zika Virus and malaria causing Plasmodium vivax. The patients were falling ill faster than Taylor could diagnose them. Often, the lines outside her clinic were so long, that the mosquitoes would set up mobile, temporary, concentration camps alongside the file of people! Taylor did not exactly dislike this. Since her clinic was a monopoly in the city, her wealth was exponentially growing as the health of the pubic was exponentially degrading. Also with diminishing blood volumes, she had to work less as instead of a test tube full of blood, the patients could yield only one third of a hundredth of a drop of blood, that too after forcibly stimulated hematopoiesis.
But the mosquitoes, hated the fact that Taylor was swelling with money, thanks to their efforts. So they stopped spreading diseases. Now, the people avoided the vicinity of clinic, as no one wanted to test their negligible blood volumes when their health was not degrading any further. Taylor started to lose her patients. Soon, the only way she could earn money was by analyzing her own blood, but it did not help as she was the one who was paying the bills to herself!
So she decided to take immediate action by eliminating the mosquitoes from Quito. Her decision was so bold that she clapped to herself, thinking of the consequences. And while clapping she killed a mosquito, purposefully by mistake. She was elated. She clapped with greater frequency, and killed a few more of the arthropods. She was enjoying the aesthetic pleasure, in staining her hands with blood from the squashed mosquitoes. She clapped even more and killed even more. She experienced bliss and continued clapping faster and harder. Now she was killing a dozen mosquito with each square millimeter of her palm, per clap. Ecstatic, she continued clapping with ever increasing intensity, till she had killed every single mosquito of Quito. Murdering the mosquitoes, she realized, was more satisfying than murdering people. Hence she gave up her job as a pathologist and started to travel the world, clapping and killing. While she was cruising in a submarine, through the mainland of India, she discovered a better substitute to clapping. Slapping, it was. Mosquitoes in the Eastern World, it seemed, were fond of residing on the cheeks of people. Hence she started to indiscriminately slap anyone and everyone, who stood with a mosquito on their face. She travelled the other half of the world, slapping with glory and returned to Quito to find that, mosquitoes have repopulated the city. She decided to rejoin her old job. But she was surprised to find out that now, the same old mosquitoes, whose ancestors she had murdered, and who, she did not murder, for they were still larvae, have become the new head of the department of the pathology in the University of MosQuito. Instead of spreading diseases, now they performed blood test by carefully sucking out blood, in the same old way, testing it and then feeding on it. The Education and Health Ministers were also happy, as they did not have to pay them extra salary, as they were happy with the blood they were getting as food! This broke Taylor’s heart and she opened up another blood testing clinic to compete with the mosquitoes.
Till today, however, she waits to receive her first patient, as every person in Quito have realized, that it is better to be bitten by a mosquito for free than be pierced by a syringe, provided they both serve the same purpose!

Arkadeep Mukhopadhyay
Editor-in-chief
Antarctica Daily

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Windowless Cars and Carless Windows


The car was so new and so shiny, that we had to buy ten rolls of sandpaper to roughen the surface, as it reflected the sunlight a little too enthusiastically and blinded half the population of neighborhood, within a day after we bought it. It was an amazing car. From the front it looked like a Sedan, from back and SUV, from the left side a small truck and from right side, well, it had no right side. While cleaning it, the morning after we bought it, we overdid our deed till the point when the right side no more left and what was left, was not right, that is, as any wise man would say, wrong. Right after we left the car under the glaring sun, we got a call stating that the local eye hospital was bustling with patients. We classified the call to be fake, for had the eye patients been really eye patients, how did they correctly identify that exact building to be the eye hospital? As much as we knew, maps, or even google maps, for that matter, are not available in braille. Reflecting upon that moment now, we feel quite embarrassed as, we would have been really stupid to consider total blindness to be the only problem of the eye disease spectrum, although our guess was the closest approximation to reality. If you had visited our home before, you would have known about the costly flower vase that we had brought from Antarctica after we bought it, which stood victoriously upon the center table. If you visit our house now, however, you would no longer see it. You might see a part of the broken glass lying submissively, at some obscure location in our home where the broom never sweeps, but you would mover ever, no matter how much you craved for, see the entirety of that vase. You see, it was broken when that call from the eye hospital was finally over. That call, which plays an important role in developing the plot for this story, informed us that it was our gleaming car which had blinded half the neighbors of ours’. We ran out hastily, to witness our new car glowing with glory. We also ran back in immediately, in a desperate attempt to apply water on our eyes, or as we like to put it, irrigate our eyes. Our eyes were the richest shade of red, though we couldn’t see it, we felt it. No other color, has the intensity or sadistic personality, strong enough to describe the knife stab, we felt in our eyes. In one such moment, all of us tripped over and fell, simultaneously, over that costly vase. But when the most delightful sense organ is on fire, a loss of money seems to be unimportant. Your brain doesn’t let go of the fact that your net worth was shrunk by a costly thousand Antarctic dollar vase, but your brain does really good, at keeping the anger, in retrospect to that loss, postponed. But with our eyes closed, we had a tough time determining whether the thing we were clutching was the cap-articulating surface of a bottle of water or the throat of a human, since both were necks. By now we had lost hopes of irrigating our eyes, so we thought visiting the eye hospital would be a good idea. So we got into the glittering car and we started to drive slowly, yet steadily as our eyes were closed. Even if they would have been open, I don’t think we would have been much better off, as the car neither did have windows, nor any windshield. Though the car was optically opaque, it was ‘auditorily trespassable’. So we let the direction of painful shouts direct us from the street, as we progressed viciously. We kept on driving the glimmering vehicle till we had reached a location, with a building which was ‘brobdingnagianly’ loud. Since our car had no doors either, we exited the car from its right side, which was the wrong side as the building was on our left. We confidently crossed the street, completely oblivious of a crossing named after zebras and entered a building which was precisely opposite to the eye clinic, which was a hospital for knee surgery. As we observed the noise of eye hospital grow distant, we thought to ourselves that everybody, must have been blind enough to go into the knee surgery department instead of the eye clinic, because we were overconfident that we were headed towards the right building! But luck was on our side, and two later all of walked out victoriously of the knee department with young, vibrant eyes! We could see again, but what we could see betrayed our sense of reality. We found ourselves standing with our face towards eye clinic on the other side of the road, even though we had not yet exited the building we were in. On further brainstorming, we understood that we had blinded the whole city and the eye doctors had made a mistake similar to us and entered the knee department. Since, the patients we had blinded did not make the same mistake, the eye doctors had no patients since the morning and had instead used the time to treat each other, which is why they could cure our eyes perfectly. The knee doctors however, blinded by us, had entered the eye clinic, which was overflowing with patients and had confidently done knee surgery on their elbows, as they themselves were blind. Luckily, the sun hid behind a cloud, as we stepped out of the knee department, or else we would have been blinded again! So we stepped into the car from the right side, drove it to the nearest store and sold it to them for a hefty sum. However, the fact that we are carless hurt our ego, so ever since we referred to our car ownership status as owning a ‘window which had no cars’, instead of the previous ‘car which had no windows.

Arkadeep Mukhopadhyay
Editor-in-chief
Antarctica Daily

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Ambulance defeats Bugatti in Kolkata Drag Race!


30 February, 0159: Humans always receive an inexplicable pleasure by winning prizes, even if that comes at the cost of messing up your normal life! Ambulance driver Dr Haripodo Poddar did accurately exemplify the aforementioned statement, by participating in a drag race even though he was taking a highly critical patient (who was simultaneously suffering from every disease including housemaid’s knee but was not a hypochondriac!) to the hospital. The venue of the race was College Street! After registering in the race, he found out that his competitors were driving super cars like Bugatti Veyron, Lambos and Porsches! However he had to console himself by driving just a Maruti Omni, which was being used nowadays as an ambulance, or as many people called it, SHORTCUT TO HEAVEN or HELL (Depending on your browser history!).

The race began amidst the cheers and before the Bugatti and Lambos could move, they found out that College Street is a one way street and they were about to race in the opposite direction! Therefore, they started the race in reverse gear. The ambulance however, proceeded anteriorly, like a boss!

People moved out of his way and the ambulance sailed like an airbus at its top speed of 25 kmph! For the super cars, however, the story was different. People seemed to deliberately block their way, traffic seemed to be overwhelming! Rickshaws, pedestrians and trams scratched the glossy exteriors of the car. The drivers immediately stepped out and started cursing randomly. This increased the osmotic potential of the Street. Many more people moved onto the roads like solvent molecules and scratched the cars at newer places, which perpetuated and intensified the entire cyclical process in a positive feedback loop!

Even before the cars had reached the 100 m mark, though in the reverse direction, the ambulance had already crossed the finish line! The Ambulance driver was received as a hero by the people of Kolkata! After all, a Maruti Omni had defeated a Bugatti!

The patient had died by then, so the driver donated his body for dissection by medical students!

🙂

Arkadeep Mukhopadhyay

Editor-in-chief

Antarctica Daily

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This School Teaches you to Swim in Air


30 February, 0158: Despite being three dimensional beings, humans are always confined on the two dimensional ground, because of a force called gravity. Poets across centuries have hoped to grow wings, so that they can fly away and escape into the third spatial dimension, but much to their disgust they all were born with nonsensical hands. Common people when frustrated with their life have found it to be exhilaratingly satisfying to state that they will fly away if certain demands of theirs are not met. Having stated that, it is not difficult for a person who is well grounded in reality to appreciate the fact that the ability to fly, will affect the human society with a lot of unforeseeable consequences.

Just when people were beginning to wonder about flying without a machine,

a Woman was beginning to wander about, flying without a machine!

She requested us not to disclose her identity saying that, “Do not tell anyone that my Name is Dr Albatross Flight and I am about to inaugurate an Air Swimming School that will teach the students to fly! However, through the columns of your esteemed newspaper please advertise about this new school.”

200_s

Even Animals Can Join

We immediately visited the school to find about the courses in Air Swimming School (ASS). The journalist whom we had sent, learnt the skill successfully with flying colors, came back flying, with the reports. The courses encompass a wide range of strokes by which human beings can literally swim in air and figuratively FLY! However, flying costume is mandatory and so is signing a deal saying that, ‘I will not pollute the AirSpace I’m flying in’, to enroll into the course.

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This is how the first lesson begins!

People from all over the world have already started flying in the air, and as a result drone sales have plummeted down faster that the ones who forget the strokes in mid air! She-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named has clearly done a tremendous job and we hope that people will use this newly learned skill for the benefit of mankind (although we must admit that, that is HIGHLY unlikely! )

🙂

Arkadeep Mukhopadhyay
Editor-in-chief
Antarctica Daily

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This Math problem has stumped even the Legendary Cricketers


30 February, 0157: Never in a million years did anybody come up with the solution to the question posed by the world-famous mathematician and spare-time-wicketkeeper Dr Partial Derivative, not exactly because the problem was too difficult, but more so because, a million years have not yet evolved ever since he did pose the problem! This problem is not invented by him and his browser history says that he simply had fished it off Google.

Kids don’t understand this problem,
Men can’t solve this problem but
Legends always give up whatever they are doing and attempt to try to endeavour to seek to strive to solve this problem.

And such legendary cricketers are the ones who are affected the worst! Dr P Derivative, as mentioned above is a wicket keeper of a charity cricket team which plays cricket matches with World’s Legendary XI (a dynamic cricket team consisting of the best cricket players to ever play cricket!) to raise money for raising money! Whenever his cricket team is about to lose a match and he is wicket keeping, he shouts out the problem from behind the batsman. Being legends, they immediately start solving the problem. The bowler bowls and with the batsman busy, the keeper stumps forcing the umpire to raise a finger high up in the air, which if had been the neighboring finger, could have landed him in trouble! However, it was the math problem which basically did the stumping!

Experts say that the math problem is actually not a problem at all but rather the description of the Lagrangian of the Standard Model. It is so long and dense with mathematical symbols that it takes the legends forever to understand why on Earth, or for that matter, in the Universe would the wicket keeper shout out such a elemental historical fundamental physical mathematical factual real description to them at the middle of the match, and ask them to solve it and in the meantime the wicket keeper Dr PD would have already stumped them out!

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🙂

Arkadeep Mukhopadhyay
Editor-in-chief
Antarctica Daily

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The Door that Knocked Itself


Moving into a new house can be a little tricky sometimes. You have a ton of compromises to make. From adapting to the new environment, to familiarizing yourself with the neighbourhood, it can often take a toll on your daily life experience, especially so, if the door that your house has likes to knock itself.

Mornings are usually less disastrous. You wake up humming a song which is stuck in your head since the last week, but you still can’t identify it beyond doubts. You come alarmingly close to recognising the song, and, there is a knock on the door. You rush frantically towards the door because you were expecting the Amazon delivery. With a smile on your face, and anticipation in your mind, you open the door only to find out that your garden looks greener than usual, probably pertaining to the fact that it had rained yesterday. But there is no one at the door! At least no one who is not invisible. You start questioning the existence of Harry’s invisibility cloak, while scanning the surroundings with darting eyes. For a second, you are convinced that you did indeed hear a door-knock but the next moment you are back to the kitchen merrily humming the same old song.

Few minutes later, another knock draws your attention. This time you are sure you have heard it. You take long steps to the door, take a deep breath, and open the door. But, NOPE. There is no one! You smell a mystery, actually you smell the essence of wet soil, but you pretend that it is a mystery. You walk out of the house and being a careful person as you are you close the door behind you, right when you hear another knock. The smell, which while sniffing earlier seemed to be of mystery, now was of downright suspense. You walk up to the door so slowly, that a time-lapse video would have looked normal. You bang open the door, or at least you plan to, but you don’t because you are struck metaphorically by lighting and literally by a thought, which is whether the knock came from inside? For if the answer to the aforementioned question is yes, then it will explain every strange phenomena you have been experiencing since the morning. You realise that the reason you have not been able to locate the knocker of the door is because you have been searching in the wrong place altogether! The one who knocked was not physically placed outside your door, but was rather sharing the comfort of your own home! Now you carefully open the door and hold it still at a forty five degree angle with the usual open or usual close position and start surveying both the outside and the inside.

You hear the door knock again. Now you are convinced that the natural and normal knocking of the door is undeniably supernatural and paranormal.

No one is inside, no one is outside, yet the door got knocked. You hear another knock and you plan to knock down the door! A kick and a punch later you stand victorious, in your doorway with no doors to make it one. Almost as a miracle, a garbage truck was passing by, you hail to the driver, ask him to stop the truck, then you throw the door onto the truck and as the truck sails away, rather rolls away, or even better, gets driven away, you start missing the self-knocking door for the first time which you yourself had knocked down. You return back into the house, with emotions of nostalgia and reminiscence flooding your mind, because you have just realised that you start to value something, only when it’s gone. Missing your door you spend the rest of the day trying to push the image of the gaping doorway away from your mind.

That night a thief breaks into your home, rather walks into your home and steals away every valuables of yours.

Arkadeep Mukhopadhyay
Editor-in-chief
Antarctica Daily

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