If you don't understand this post, don't panic. Its pure crap.
He was a very nice person when born. He smiled at the nurse, the parents and everyone else. Initially, the boy showed great promise. But he had difficulty concentrating. So his parents went to the doctor who then advised," The boy needs an iron hand. " And iron hand it was. The parents turned into martinets. Timetables and strict guidelines rained upon the poor kid and ruined his life. And the boy showed no improvement. In fact, he grew more timid and lonely. But the charts were ingrained in his mind. They were his only hope. His precious babies!
Come school and the boy was bullied a lot. School proved to be a nightmare. All the taunts, all the jabs induced a paranoia in the boy. He started stammering(" 'Tick' hai!). Everyone someone came upto him, he broke sweat. He could always be seen with his hand in his pocket and wiping his dripping forehead. He hated the world for what it was. He hated everyone.
6 years of undergrad and grad studies changed the boy. He was sweet and kind(yet timid). He became a teacher and showered all his love on the pupils. But one thing he did not forget, was his love of charts, graphs, notices and timetables. The 'loveable' teacher loved the students with all the percentages and charts he could fathom. He 'explained' to them, the subject with all its nuances. But unfortunately, he forgot that he was teaching 20 year olds and not 12 year old students. Try as he might, he could not satisfy the students. He even tried the good cop, bad cop routine but to no avail.
Thus, again, he only received hate and anger. Frustrated with life, he decided to fight fire with fire. Thus, the next year, the 2nd batch of children bore the brunt of his anger. They were decimated. And yes, he liked seeing this. It rained notices, classes, charts, graphs, assignments upon the poor souls who had no idea what hit them. Morning classes were deliberately canceled and evening classes were taken to help the students tide over the sleepiness. After all, he was helping them. He was helping them take anger management classes and increasing their patience. Or so he thought.
2 years on, THE BATCH and him meet again. It's a head on collision which can only result in death of either of the aforementioned. The little boy has grown up. He is a man. He is power-drunk, and knows the extent of his power (unfortunately for him), for he can only have a small inventory of weapons. The batch however has an experience of 15 years. And that, my friends is something extraordinary.
Just wait and watch. Come November, a murder shall happen. And no Sherlock is needed to solve it. It shall be Murder on the Central India Express.