Ding dong. The calling bell struck. It's eight in the morning and Arun's mother wondered who it could be at this early hour. 'Maybe it's the maid,' she says to herself and walks to the door. On opening the door she is startled by a tall and hefty man in a green turban. "Is this Mr. Ashok Roy's house?" the man asked. "Yes?" she said with a questioning look. "I am from the CBI٭. My name is Jaswinder Singh". He showed his badge to Mrs. Roy. Hearing the word CBI she thought it best to hand over matters to her husband. "Wait a minute," she said and called her husband. "Can you please come down? Someone from the CBI is here." she shouted. Mr. Roy rushed down in his pajamas and a vest. "What's the matter?" he asked. "Are you Mr. Ashok Roy?" Jaswinder asked. "Yes I am." "I am Jaswinder Singh from the cyber crime department of the CBI. Can I come in?" He showed his identification. "Uhh…yeah…sure." Behind him his wife whispered not to let the man inside the house. Who knows if he is a fake? Anyone can forge an ID now. But Mr. Roy ignored his wife. The CBI is not to be messed around with. "What's the matter Mr. Singh?" he asked as the detective entered the house. "The State Bank's security system has been hacked and our detectives have traced it to a system in your name." "What?" Mr. Roy cried out at first and then he burst into laughter, "how is that possible Mr. Singh? Look Mr. Singh," Mr. Roy said, "there surely must have been some mistake. I do have a computer, in my name but I am not at all tech savvy. I can't even attach files in the e-mail without a hit and trial method. How can I possibly break into some network system Mr. Singh? Aren't they super protected?" "Can I…" Jaswinder pointed to the sofa. "Surely…yes…please…" "What do you do Mr. Roy?" Jaswinder asked as he sat down. He pulled out a tiny little notebook and a blue pen from his shirt pocket. "I retired a few months back as an accountant of SBI٭٭." "Which branch?" "Salt Lake branch." "That's the branch which has been affected Mr. Roy." "What!" "When did you retire?" "Three months back, in July." "Who else lives with you?" "My wife Mita and my son Arun." "Are you his wife?" "Yes," "Your name please," "Mita Roy," "What do you do Mrs. Roy?" "I am a housewife," "So you must also be using the computer for email and chat?" "No, not at all. I don't know all these things and frankly speaking I don't have any interest in them. The phone is here. I can talk to anyone I want over the phone. Why do I need all that email and other things?" "That's true. That's right," Jaswinder focused his attention on Mr. Roy again. "So Mr. Roy, how's retired life? You must be having plenty of time now. How do you utilize it?" "It's difficult you know, staying at home, after all these years…I have taken to writing now, you can call me a writer," "Really? That's good. What do you write?" Jaswinder marked Mr. Roy's present occupation in his notepad. "Short stories…have written quite a few now," "Published anything yet?" "Yes, one in The Sunday Statesman and two others in the ABP magazine." "That's great! So what are your stories about?" "Nothing in particular…crises of modern life, you know. Currently I am working on a thriller." "What kind of thriller?" "A murder mystery." "Sounds very interesting." "Let's see how it turns out." "I'm sure it'll be great. Where's your son? You said he lived with you." "He's in Kanpur." "In Kanpur? What does he do there?" "He's a Computer Science student at IIT٭٭٭ Kanpur." This piece of information caught Jaswinder's attention. "What's his name?" "Arun Kumar Roy." "Which year?" "Final year." "So does he come home often?" "Only during his semester breaks." "When did he come home last?" "A month ago." "Give me his phone number and address. I'd like to talk to him." Jaswinder took Arun's phone number and address and stood up. As he was leaving Mr. Roy asked Jaswinder, "Mr. Singh, when did this incident happen?" "About fifteen days ago." And with that he walked away leaving the Roys with their own queries. Immediately they rushed to the phone and dialed Arun's number. --------------- He googled hacker and the bright computer screen stared back at Arun with eight definitions of the word. Numbers five and six appealed to him. Definition number five read, "A person who enjoys the intellectual challenge of creatively overcoming or exceeding limitations." Definition number six read, "A malicious intruder who tries to detect sensitive information by poking around. Therefore 'password hacker' and 'network hacker'. The correct term for this sense is 'crack'." He finished reading and muttered 'I am feeling lucky'. ------------------ "Upen Biswas from the CBI," "Nice to meet you. How can I help you?" the dean of the Computer Science Department at IIT, Kanpur said. "We have reasons to believe that one of your students may be involved in meddling with the SBI security network," "And what makes you think that it is one of our students Mr. Biswas?" "Is Arun Kumar Roy a student here?" Mr. Biswas continued ignoring the dean. "Yes," "Well, Dr. Das, the system to which the crime has been traced is in Kolkata, in Arun's father's name. Now Arun's father did not seem to be very technologically competent, at least not enough to cause any major damage like this…so that leaves us with Arun as the major suspect…" "But it is also possible that someone else might have done the crime remotely using that particular system. So how do you know for sure that Arun is to blame?" "Dr. Das, I didn't say that we were sure. I just said that he is under suspicion. Mark my words carefully. Now let's not complicate matters and waste time. I'd like to talk to Arun Roy." "Do you have a warrant for interrogating him?" "Here you go," Mr. Biswas handed over a sheet of paper to Dr. Das. "Then there's nothing to stop you I presume. I'll send for Arun," "Thank you Dr. Das." A few minutes later a tall lanky guy with a day old stubble walked into the dean's office. He had longish hair which could be tied into a ponytail with some difficulty. Behind the latest fashion glasses were a pair of light brown eyes, alert and roving. He looked first at Mr. Biswas and then at his dean. "Arun, this here is Mr. Upen Biswas, investigating officer of CBI. He'd like to talk to you regarding a hacking case," Dr. Das said. "Hacking?" Arun said nervously. "Actually you are their prime suspect now," "But I am trying to come up with anti-hacking systems…" "That's what I told him, but…" "Dr. Das, let me take it from here. Now where can I talk to him in private, without any disturbance?" "You can use the conference room down the hall. Arun you can take him there, and don't worry. Everything will be just fine." "Thank you Sir," Arun said and readied himself to face the CBI investigator. Inside the conference room Arun sat at one end of the huge table. The detective pulled out a chair and sat opposite to him, facing him directly but from a distance. Arun looked at the man, he was completely bald and the arched bushy eyebrows gave his face a menacing look. Not sure what to do, Arun smiled at him nervously and without realizing started drumming his fingers on the table. He looked towards his right where the blinds on the windows were drawn. He wanted to go and pull up the blinds, let in some light in the room. The conference room had never felt so claustrophobic before. "So…your name please, young man," Mr. Biswas' voice boomed. "Arun Kumar Roy." "Occupation." "Final year Computer Science student." "And final year would be…fourth, fifth?" "Fourth year." "Ok. So do you have any idea why you are here?" "Not exactly…other than the fact that I am a suspect in a hacking case." "Your parents must have told you something regarding this," Arun swallowed before replying, "Yes, the CBI had been to our home and interrogated my parents regarding a security breach in the SBI networks." "So you do know why you are here," Mr. Biswas leaned forward. "Wait a minute. Are you hinting that I am the culprit? You can't do that. You have no proof whatsoever," Arun shouted, little realizing that his reaction was not helping him in any way. The investigator sat quietly and observed Arun's every move. He waited for him to cool down. "Tell me Arun how much knowledge your parents have about computers." "My mom has zero knowledge. I've tried so many times to teach her how to e-mail, but she's just not interested. It's so hard to even make her sit in front of the computer for some time." "And your father?" "My dad is learning. At least he's interested. Even a few months back he didn't know much. But now he can do all the e-mailing and chatting. I used to chat with him almost every day so that he had the practice. Previously anytime he had to send an attachment he used to call me up for instructions. Now he's ok." "But didn't his work at the bank involve computers?" "It did. But that was only work stuff. When the banking system was being computerized all the employees had to take training. So that took care of the office work. And you can't really use the office system for your personal work, right? A year ago he bought a computer at home, that's when he started learning." "I heard he's a writer now. Does he write the old fashioned way, you know pen and paper or use computers?" "He started with pen and paper, but I switched him to MS Word. He's now quite comfortable with it," Arun said with a smile. "How often do you go home Arun?" "About twice a year, during my semester breaks." "When was the last time you went home?" "Last month." "That would be September. Can you give me the exact dates you were home?" "Umm…I came back here September 23rd. it was a Sunday I remember." "You must be using the home computer when you are there" "Actually I have a laptop. I pretty much use that. I generally don't use the system at home." "Why?" "Because it's easier for me to access things from my laptop. I am always signed into my mail account and all my coursework and related stuff is in my laptop. So it makes things easier for me. A different system means I have to log in again, and then sign out…" "Where's your laptop?" "In my room." "Let's go to your room. I want to have a look at it." "Visitors are not allowed in the hostel rooms." "Look kid, don't try to act smart. I have a search warrant. And it's in your best interest that you co-operate with the law or else I can have you arrested under Indian Penal Code 732 for obstruction of justice." Immediately Arun stood up and started walking towards the door. The investigator smiled to himself. This threat always worked. The boy's room was a total mess. On one side of his bed books and clothes were piled up. His laptop was open on the table. The investigator sat down at the desk and checked all the tabs which were open. The first tab he saw was about Chinese restaurants in the area, the next few were about IP addresses and networking but the one which caught his attention was related to hacking trails. He shut the laptop and took it in his custody. "But…that…" Aun couldn't complete. "Remember what I said earlier." "Yes Sir," Arun said. "Tell me one thing Arun, why do people hack?" "I don't know." "Suppose you were a hacker. I am not telling that you are one. Just assume. What would your motive be for breaking into a restricted system? Why commit this kind of crime?" "You know what Mr. Biswas, people who hack don't always have a criminal bent of mind. Many people do it for the sheer challenges it provides. Hackers are very sharp people, they love what they do. It's like a game you know, how far can you take it, how far can you make yourself go, how far can you push yourself? It's all about trying new things and not ruling out possibilities Mr. Biswas." "If hacking is such a challenging job why are you specializing in anti-hacking?" "Good point. First of all, hacking is something which can't be taught. You just learn if you are interested. Secondly, hacking is challenging, but containing hackers is even more challenging." "So in a way, your anti-hacking skills also allow you to sharpen your hacking abilities." "How is that?" "If you don't hack, how will you know how to stop it?" "Hahaha…if I were to follow your logic Mr. Biswas, then I have to assume that a fireman sets fire to a house, before he learns how to douse it, or a policeman commits the same crime as his criminal in order to arrest the criminal! It doesn't work that way Mr. Biswas. You need to think like a criminal, in order to catch him, not commit the crime yourself." "In that case, tell me how is hacking done?" "How am I supposed to know how hacking is done. I am not a hacker." "What happened to your logic…what about thinking like a hacker, try thinking. Someone as intelligent as you can definitely do this. Don't rule out your possibilities, push yourself Arun." Arun started sweating profusely. He had gone too far. Somewhere down the line he had forgotten that the man in front of him was from the CBI. He had said too much. Every time, every time he got carried away. While leaving the campus Mr. Biswas thought about the case. "The boy was very smart and he didn't come all clean. He was hiding something definitely. But what? But the boy's father…he didn't sound all that technologically challenged from his son…maybe Singh should check on him again. Need to talk to Singh." Three days after the CBI interrogated him and intercepted his laptop, Arun received a call from his mother. She sounded very tense. "Arun, the CBI came again today. They searched the house and took away the computer. They also took your father with them for additional questioning but let him go afterwards. They told him not to leave the state." "Ma, don't worry. I'll leave for home today evening. I'll talk to my dean. Don't worry Ma, I'm coming home tomorrow." Arun went to notify his dean that he was going home in the middle of the semester. "But you are not supposed to leave town," the dean said. "I know Sir. My parents are alone at home, and the CBI is harassing them. I just have to be with them now. In any case if the CBI wants me again they can always find me at Kolkata." "Arun if you are involved in any of this…" "I am not involved in anything Sir. Believe me." "I do believe that you are innocent but if your involvement is found we will have to rusticate you." "Yes Sir," Arun said softly. At home Arun could see the strain the situation had created, on his parents' face. His father's health had broken down, he looked so much older. His mother's face was tense. Usually when her son came home she'd cook all his favorite dishes but today she just made rice, daal (lentils) and a curry. No fish, no meat, no dessert. The three of them ate in silence. After dinner Arun's mother asked him if he was involved, "Tell me Arun, if you have done anything. I'll tell the CBI officer to forgive you. I am your mother, they will listen to me." "Ma I didn't do anything. What makes you think that I am behind all this?" "If you didn't do this, then your father must have done it because I don't even touch that computer. Now tell me, does your father know so much about computers? No. but you do Arun, you do…" "But Ma, you just can't blame me like this. Is this why you wanted me to come home, so that you could blame me?" "I don't know what to do Arun. Look at your father, his health has deteriorated so much in the past few days. He doesn't talk much now. Do something Arun, do something," Mrs. Roy broke down. "Don't worry Ma, everything will be ok, everything will be ok. Try to sleep now." After the talk with his mother Arun went upstairs to his room. He opened his laptop and tried to access the home computer. Access denied. Just what he had thought. The CBI had already sealed off any remote access possible. He sat there thinking when his father came into his room. "Won't you go to sleep?" "Yes dad. Tell me one thing. When did this happen?" Mr. Roy sat down on his son's bed, "The CBI said it happened fifteen days ago, but that was the first time they came here. It's been almost a week since then, so that would be almost three weeks ago." "Hmmm. That was like a few days after I left for Kanpur. Wish I could see the system before they took it away." "Didn't they take your laptop too?" "Yeah, they did but returned it again. Couldn't find anything. All clean." Arun started muttering again, "Why would any hacker leave a trail like that? That's against the hacker mentality, unless he's trying to leave a trail deliberately for some reason. But what can the reason be? Or maybe he was a rookie." "He was a rookie. He didn't know how to cover up the trails," Mr. Roy said slowly. "But how can you be so sure dad?" Arun said and then looked at his father, sitting on the bed, staring at the floor. "Oh my God! Dad! But why, dad?" It hit him like a bolt from the blue. "I am sorry Arun. I never thought…" "What do you mean I am sorry? Do you have any idea what you have done? Why did you do this?" "I had always dreamt of becoming an engineer. But your grandpa wouldn't give a single penny for our education. He wanted all of us to look after his farmland. I had to struggle a lot to complete my masters. After I got the job at the bank, I supported your two uncles with that meager salary. All my life I have struggled, I have always lived for others. For once I have lived the life I wanted to…I am tired of this middle-class life, this life of anonymity. I wanted to be famous, to do something…" "But look what living for yourself has done…you were better off living for others." "I am sorry son. This was never my intention…" "It's so easy to say you are sorry. Think about me, think about mom. Here I am, specializing in anti-hacking while my father is figuring out ways to hack right under my nose. Why did you do this dad? You wanted to be famous? Your stories could have done that," Arun said, "Wanted to be famous!" he muttered to himself. Mr. Roy sat there silently. He had nothing to say. He was tired and exhausted. He stood up to leave. "But how did you do this? Where did you learn all the stuff?" "I always had interest in computer science. In our days it was in a nascent stage but nowadays everywhere you look you find the application of computers. More than a year ago I read an article on Robert Morris and his Internet worm and it triggered my interest. My job at the bank was very tedious, so I decided to satisfy my interest. I got books from the library, plus I had your books. They helped me a lot in understanding the basics." "How come you never told us? Does mom know about all this? How did you manage to keep it a secret for so long?" "Your mother doesn't know anything about this. She'd never have approved. It's wastage of time to her." "You could've at least told me dad. I would've understood and I could've helped you in your learning." As Arun listened to his father revealing a completely different part of his life, how he wished for the circumstances to change. If only the times were different he would have reveled in his father's determination and his success. Was he supposed to be happy? He wanted to be happy; maybe he was happy in some corner of his being. His reverie was broken by a touch on the shoulder. "Arun, it's quite late now. Go to sleep," his father said. "You didn't tell me how you managed to do this," "After reading the Morris article I looked up many websites related to hacking. From there I got ideas. The networks security person in my office also helped me understand a few things. Talking to him I learnt about the weaknesses and the loopholes of security systems. I was writing a story at the time related to it and I decided to try out my ideas. I wanted my story to have an authentic feel." "But why your own bank? There are thousands of other sites." "Because I was a bit familiar with the systems and their IP addresses. I accessed a public web site and then bypassed additional secured databases stored on the same server." "What kind of data did you get access to?" "I had access to customers' account numbers, their account balance, their entire banking history. But I didn't tamper any of them. I only added an extra zero to my savings account balance." In spite of their situation both of them smiled at this bit of information. "Why didn't you use onion routing dad? It is a technique for anonymous communication over a network. It doesn't disclose the origin, destination and contents of a message." "I didn't know about it. Now I understand totally why they say 'a little knowledge is a dangerous thing'." "You could've at least told me dad. I could've tried to cover up your trail. " "Arun, you are my son. How could I have told you that your father was a criminal?" "I don't know…I don't know…you are not a criminal dad. If only I had known earlier…" Mr. Roy stood up and started walking towards the door. And for the first time in a long long time Arun went up to his father and hugged him tightly. "Everything will be ok dad, everything will be fine," he whispered. Mr. Roy struggled hard to control the tears as he left his son's room. The next day the CBI came with an arrest warrant for Mr. Ashok Roy. But there was no Ashok Roy anymore. Early that morning Arun was awakened by a sharp scream. It sounded like his mother. Somewhere in the middle of the night he had dozed off. He jumped out of bed looking for his glasses. 'Where did I keep those damn glasses,' he thought and then realized that he was wearing them. He ran downstairs to his parents' bedroom. There in the attached bathroom he found his father lying on the floor, froth and blood had oozed out of his mouth. He found an empty bottle of rat-kill lying beside him. He bent down and touched his father's forehead. It was cold as ice. His mother was sobbing hysterically; in her hand was a piece of paper. He took the paper from her hands. In his father's crisp handwriting he saw the words: I am responsible for my own death. Arun and Mita, forgive me, if possible.
In the US for the first time, I faced a difficulty from an unexpected quarter. Water taps. I’ve lived all my life in a city more than three hundred years old where taps work in a single uniform way -- clockwise to turn them on and anticlockwise to shut them off.(Well, it used to be this way when I grew up and left the country.)
In the restroom of the airport what I saw was a very fancy looking thing in the name of a tap, I could by no means find out its head which I could turn. I just stood at the wash basin staring at the curvy shining metal object in front of me, trying to figure out a way to make it flow for me. When staring didn’t help I decided it was time for action. I pushed and pulled and tapped but nothing happened. In desperation I poked at the mouth of the tap. And voila! Water gushed out of the tap onto my wrists wetting the sleeves of my sweater. I moved my hand away instantly. The flow stopped within seconds. Tentatively I moved my hands underneath the tap again. Water started flowing. These things need to come with instructions, I thought.
Now that the water’s flowing I merrily started washing my hands, taking my own sweet time -- completely forgetting that this is not holy water from the Ganges washing away my sins -- when all of a sudden the tap runs dry. My hands had moved away a bit. That’s what happens in the US when you are not paying attention to business on hand, even if you are only washing your hands. I moved my hands again, washed my hands as quickly as possible and proceeded.
Hands all clean, and all refreshed I now needed to drink water. One look at the water fountain and my thirst vanished. Am I supposed to drink from here? How do people manage to drink from that thing? Don’t they use glasses here? My only other option to quench my thirst was to buy bottled water which I was not willing to do for various reasons. Firstly, I don’t trust the bottling companies. I am very much convinced that they are selling tap water in the name of mineral water. Secondly, the conversion of dollars to rupees was quite shocking. So I just stood at a distance and watched people. The restroom episode was behind closed walls. But this was an open space. I didn’t want to provide free entertainment to hundreds of people out there. All they did was press the big button at the base, water came out and they drank. Looked simple enough.
As the coast cleared up I marched ahead confidently, took my position and pressed the button at the base. Water did come up sure enough, but instead of filling my mouth it spluttered in my face. Taken aback I glanced sideways to find out if anybody had noticed what was going on. As luck would have it I saw two kids smiling mischievously at me. Ears burning and my face as red as an apple, I walked away stoically. As the days passed I learnt to drink from the water fountain, though not without a bit of choking and getting my dress wet.
My ordeal was not over at taps and water fountains. Once I stepped into the country I realized I had to deal with Fahrenheits and Miles and Pounds and Gallons. I could leave behind kilometer and litre and make do with the mile and gallon, but the Celsius I couldn’t forget -- the chilliness of 5°C couldn’t be brought out by 41°F and the frequent conversions from Fahrenheit to Celsius have left my brains racked..
