Just before The Dark Knight Rises began, my mind wandered off to evil. And its randomness. And its twisted sense of purpose. The Colorado shooting during the screening of the film that took 12 lives. The depraved pawing and mauling of a young girl in Guwahati. The molestation of another girl in front of a train full of tongueless zombies who then watched her being pushed into a dry river bed. And that story I watched on Sony’s Crime Patrol last night where a raped woman was laughed at by the policemen who then accused her of being a bad role model to her daughters because she was at a pub just before the incident happened. The fire that was started with piled up mattresses and broken furniture in the Taj Mahal hotel during the 26/7 attacks. The roar with which two planes packed with passengers rammed into the heart of New York. The violence and studied apathy that results in brutal honour killings and a baby girl’s death because her parents cannot afford Rs 200 to keep the life support switched on. Of the two kinds of evil in the world. The kind that starts the fire. And the kind that watches the world burn in silence. And what caught my attention right at the beginning of the film was the dialogue between two human missives of evil,
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