To click or not to click

login: elsinore.local A dead king in the buffer. A prince in the drafts. A reader in the wires. "Something is rotten in the state of your connection." A cursor waits under a line: CHOOSE YOUR ACCESS POINT: [[GHOST.PROCESS( ) - Follow the cold signal->N10]] [[/users/hamlet/drafts/ - Open Hamlet’s drafts->N20]] [[/users/ophelia/private/ - Breach Ophelia’s folder->N30]] [[camera feed of hall in north - Watch the corridor->N60]] [[whoami - Ask who you are->N40]]

Ghost in the Buffer Static, then: a silhouette assembles from stray characters. The Ghost is a bad connection to the past. "I was killed between one frame and the next. Poison in the ear, yes, but also deleted logs, overwritten cameras, scrubbed metadata." "I am thy father's spirit, Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night…" The text shudders; words flicker in and out. Three paths surface: [[Accept the command to revenge->N20]] [[Try to remember instead of obey->N40]] [[Peek in on the court, unseen->N60]] ---- WARNING: CHILD PROCESS "HAMLET" NOT STABLE. [[Trace child process->N20]] [[Return to login->Hamlet Revisited]]

/inbox/hamlet/drafts/ You open /inbox/hamlet/drafts/. All the subject lines are unsent, half-finished: SUBJECT: to be or not to be.txt SUBJECT: ophelia (do not send) SUBJECT: uncle.txt SUBJECT: mother's final draft(really final).md You click to be or not to be.txt: There are too many options. Every path is a hyperlink opening into someone else’s pain. to be: load game, follow orders, kill the king, become the king, inherit the Ghost’s grammar. not to be: close tab; leave everyone in their current, miserable browser windows. What if the only freedom is in hovering over the link and never clicking? [[Write back to the Ghost->N10]] [[Confide in Ophelia (un-sent)->N30]] [[Stage a performance instead of acting in life->N50]] [[Delete everything and ask who is reading->N40]] [[Return to login->Hamlet Revisited]]

Ophelia’s Private Folder You breach /users/ophelia/private/. Inside is a folder named /water/. Files: stream.txt flowers.jpeg voice memo (unshared).ogg exit plan.md You open exit plan.md: Step 1: obey. Step 2: fracture. Step 3: become unreadable. They read me as daughter, as bait, as ornament. No one reads me as author. If I go to the water, I will stop belonging to the script. Water doesn’t need lines. It improvises. [[Show this plan to Hamlet (may be)->N20]] [[Show this plan to no one and lock the file->N30a]] [[Drag this file into /recyclebin/river/->N70]] [[Return to login->Hamlet Revisited]]

Surveillance Logs Tiled screens. Everywhere is Elsinore, but no one knows they’re being watched by you. CAM_01: Hallway North - Hamlet passes, speaking to air. CAM_02: Queen’s chamber - Gertrude’s silhouette, two glasses on the table. CAM_03: River - static, occasionally a white flicker: dress? flower? glitch? A log in Polonius’s tone, time-stamped: 13:07 - Subject: Ophelia. Recommend further observation. 14:22 - Subject: Hamlet. Language increasingly fragmented. 14:59 - Subject: YOU. Presence detected. UNAUTHORIZED VIEWER DETECTED. CHOICES WILL BE LOGGED. [[Close the logs and confront the king->N50]] [[Scroll back to the moment of murder->N10]] [[Focus the camera on Ophelia->N30]] [[Return to login->Hamlet Revisited]]

The Mirror Stage (YOU) A blank screen. Then your own cursor appears, but the system types for you: YOU ARE NOT NEUTRAL. By opening this archive, you joined the play. Every click is a decision about who speaks, who falls silent, whose body is allowed to become a metaphor. You can still pretend, but the log says otherwise. [[Pretend you are only reading->N60]] [[Admit you are choosing lives->N70]] [[Step away from the machine->N80a]] [[Return to login->Hamlet Revisited]]

Play Within the Play An embedded stage appears: a small window within your own. Actors speak in tags: <actor name="PLAYER KING">I did kill thee once, but only in the script.</actor> <actor name="PLAYER QUEEN">We are puppets until the reader looks away.</actor> The king will reveal himself if you click the wrong line. [[Accuse the king openly in front of everyone->N70]] [[Keep watching and taking notes->N60]] [[Rewrite the scene so that nobody dies->N70a]] [[Return to login->Hamlet Revisited]]

Locked File (Ophelia) You encrypt the file with a passphrase: let me be noword The interface responds: FILE LOCKED. AUTHOR RETAINED. A rare moment of agency. [[Refuse the script and write a new one->N50]] [[Return silently to the surveillance feeds->N60]] [[Return to login->Hamlet Revisited]]

Branching Deaths This node is a tangle of alternate timelines. 1. Ophelia does not drown. She drops the flowers and leaves. 2. Hamlet does not hesitate. Claudius never finishes his prayer. 3. Nobody dies, but the Ghost keeps refreshing your page. 4. Everyone dies, as in the original, because you followed the canonical links. Which script do you let the system execute? [[Follow the canonical tragedy->N80 as original]] [[Protect Ophelia at all costs->N80 as variant]] [[Refuse all deaths, no matter how the text protests->N70a]] [[Return to login->Hamlet Revisited]]

System Error: Tragedy Not Found By refusing death, you break the underlying script. ERROR: REQUIRED FUNCTION CATASTROPHE() NOT CALLED. STACK TRACE: GHOST → HAMLET → KING → BODYCOUNT Voices complain in the margins: Hamlet: "Without my ending, what am I but a loop?" Horatio: "If you prevent it, who will tell the story?" Ophelia: "…Or is this finally my story?" [[Allow the system to crash and lose the archive->N80 as crash]] [[Relent, but restore only one necessary death->N80 as variant]] [[Return to login->Hamlet Revisited]]

The Archive Closes (Canonical) Bodies on the floor, as the source text dictates. Horatio, at the bottom of the screen, types: "And let me speak to the yet unknowing world How these things came about…" But the last line waits for you. [Type your own final line here…] ARCHIVE SEALED WITH YOUR VERSION. YOU ARE NOW PART OF THE CANON. [[Return to login->Hamlet Revisited]]

The Archive Closes (Altered) Not everyone died as Shakespeare wrote. Someone lived because you refused a link, or clicked a different one, or locked a file. The system shows a diff: - OPHELIA: dead + OPHELIA: author She leaves a final note in /water/README.md: "I exist now in the gap between his script and your click." [[Return to Ophelia’s folder->N30a]] [[Log out quietly->N80a]] [[Return to login->Hamlet Revisited]]

Blue Screen of Bard All the text falls apart into bare characters: thou, die, remember, click, ghost. A single line remains: If no one can read it, does a tragedy still happen? The only "link" is non-functional: [EXIT] You may close the window, or restart the tragedy. [[Return to login->Hamlet Revisited]]

Logout Terminal again. The cursor blinks. SESSION ENDED. THE STATE OF DENMARK REMAINS UNRESOLVED. [[Log back in and see what else you can change->Hamlet Revisited]]

Shakespeare’s Hamlet is famous for its “to be or not to be” which expresses human nature. Although Hamlet’s dilemma is that of a Prince of Denmark, however, such a dilemma is not unique to a prince or to a particular culture or necessarily an existential one. Such human complexity transcends culture, context, period and status. To click or not to click contains collaborative twine-based digital short stories that endeavor to narrate stories of such emotions of the ordinary human and non-human in various Indian contexts, which are completely contradictory to those of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. In the first digital short story [["Hamlet Revisited"->Hamlet Revisited]], Mehulkumar Desai, has attempted to recreate the gamified readaptation of Shakespeare’s famous tragedy Hamlet. Here this immersive experiment gives the reader/player the agency by offering choices, crossroads, and crucial moments to take the action based on the provided choices either following Shakespeare’s Hamlet or deviating from him. However, no matter how one navigates the narrative, the tragedy unfolds and one finds following the path chosen by Shakespeare. The intention behind this digital readaptation is not to simply modernise Hamlet for medium’s sake, but to test its bones: to see whether its moral architecture still holds when placed in the hands of the contemporary player, thereby attempting to resolve the century long debates around Hamlet’s moral dilemma of “to be or not to be.” The second digital story [[“Your Garden is my Home”->Your Garden is my Home]] is a collaborative effort between Shanmugapriya T and Simran Bhimjyani. It is divided into two parts, each with its unique narrative style. The first part is written in both first and third person and the second in first person. It reflects a common dilemma- of a mother, one of a woman, Shipra, a middle aged woman, and a single mother, and another of a mother crow, grappling with all odds to give her children a protected shelter. Both Shipra and the Crow undergo a dilemma. Albeit the degree of each one’s dilemma might be less or more. The third digital story, [["My Femininity OR My Family"->My Femininity OR My Family]] written by K. Kavitha explores the gender-nonconforming child’s deep emotional, belonging, and identity-based dilemma. It shows the child’s inner conflict between being true to oneself and meeting one's own family expectations. Through fear, love, pain, and silence, the story explores how the child tries to survive within the family and society, highlighting the mother’s acceptance and the harshness of parts of the family and society, while searching for acceptance and the right to live her life. All these three stories in one or another way create a multi-linear narrative and give the reader/player control to thread their narratives and to experience the dilemma of the characters. The artist Gayathiri T created thematic illustrations for the second and third stories and Mehulkumar Desai created the twine links for each story. These works shall also be transcreated in Tamil and Gujarati languages by the creators of this work.

On Dhar road and Bollywood songs in the air, the bus moves fast, carrying loaded passengers. Shipra, sitting by the window, chewing her thoughts and fast-forwarding her life since childhood, wakes up to the bus conductor's announcement about the place she has to get down. She walks up to the textile factory where she works as a machine helper. She has been working there for the past 20 years, ever since the factory found its feet in Masi when she was 25 years old. Masi was not that big a city 25 years ago, even now, but enough to be called a city or town by nearby villagers, as it has all the amenities: big buildings, big roads, many high-branded showrooms, small shops along with drains, and mass spread wastage from nearby shops, mainly the factory that releases its “don’t wanna water” into [[Thuaiyal->Thuaiyal]].

<div class="scene"> <img class="illustration" src="../images/channel.jpeg" alt="A channel"> Thuaiyal is not a river, nor a canal, but a channel. Natural-born, once fierce enough to scare or sometimes swallow creatures, both human and non-human, when she brimmed with spirited water pouring from the sky… but now she is dull, grey, shrinking her tentacles. Her shrinking provides a sweet and comfortable bed for many… Shipra once was very close to Thuaiyal: playing, swimming, walking, and talking together, but now both travel in different directions, competing to get old. Who will win? Now [[Shipra’s mind->Shipra's mind]] is not filled with Thuaiyal but a [[neem tree->NeemTree]] that grew in her backyard, taken home without her consent… </div>

“[[What to do?->Shipra's Dilemma]] The small one is asking me to cut down the tree and the old one is saying no to cut the tree.” It does consume my small backyard space, but when I go back home after work in the evening, it comforts me when I have chai and converse my everyday chaos and happiness with its shadow. The neem tree gives her the comfort she once had with Thuaiyal, which she conveniently forgot for the sake of forgetting, for the sake of “the comfort bed.” Shipra did not even think about the [[crow->Crow]] that settled down, grew two generations of kids, and now the third one is on the way… Of course, it is not Shipra’s worry. In fact, it bothers her a lot, stealing her food that she keeps outside to dry and disturbing her weekend daytime nap… “ssshhh pppa that crow!! Such a nuisance! I don’t know what makes it choose ‘my tree’.” Shipra’s salary is sufficient enough to feed her family and fulfill the basic needs of her and her two girls: the second one is studying 10th standard in a government school; the first one is studying B.A. Hindi Literature in a government college. But her salary is not enough to buy a house in Masi. That’s why she prefers to stay in the adjacent village Kondi where she owns a small house. Before she runs out of her thoughts… Shipra reaches Gate 10, where her friend and colleague waits for her, so both can enter together and punch together, so that if they get caught late, they can blame each other.

<div class="scene"> <img class="illustration" src="../images/Neemtree.jpeg" alt="A neemtree"> The neem tree: comfort, shade, companionship-also conflict, space, and inheritance without consent. </div>

<div class="scene"> <img class="illustration" src="../images/crow.jpeg" alt="A crow"> “This place was not made in one day. My mother and her mother made it, twig by twig. My children and I learned to fly in this backyard. Our first flight and our first falls were witnessed by this neem tree. I know every sound in this house. I saw the human and her kids grow up just like mine. I know when the younger one runs around in the backyard and the older one reads aloud from her book, sitting under the tree. I know when their mother leaves and returns home. Every evening, she sits below us, quietly, holding a warm liquid with her tired face, which turns happy when her children play around and join her for chit-chat. We sometimes join the chorus. This place has always been [[home->NeemTree]]. Until today. Strange looking men have come with strange objects inside the backyard. They start cutting and chopping down branches one by one. My heart thundered. My kids were sleeping in the nest. In fright I rushed to the nest, shook them awake and quickly carried them one by one to a safer spot on the wall behind the tree. My body trembled with every flight. Humans can be so heartless. I am being evacuated from my home, my ancestral home, without any notice or sign. Had I been a little late in returning home with the grains… I cannot finish that thought. Oh! They ruined my nest. It was made with so much love and care. I cannot leave my children unhoused. I will have to remake a new home. This tree with its wide branches had protected us for so long. Now that it is all gone, I don’t understand why they left a small chunk behind, as if to remind me of the horrors. I will find another tree. There is a mango tree three streets away, not as huge as this, but I heard there is another family there. What if they don’t share the space? There is another tree by the Thuyail bank. It is farther, but I will find a way and give my kids a new home. The journey will be hard. But perhaps it will accept us. What should I do? [[Find another tree->CrowLeave]] [[Stay->CrowStay]] </div>

The crow family on the mango tree was unwelcoming, as anticipated. I take the longer flight and finally reach another tree by the banks of Thuyail. [[Continue->CrowThuyail]]

<div class="scene"> <img class="illustration" src="../images/nest.jpeg" alt="A nest"> “I have lived here all my life. I can rebuild my nest on this wall which carries the shadow of my nest. I fly to new streets in search of trees, but I end up circling the same street and backyard again and again. The sharp wind, scorching daylight, and the vicious cat with its keen gaze on my delicate eggs, ready to pounce given a chance, make it an unsafe place. The lady and her children shoo me away when I take a chance to grab the food drying in the backyard. There is a variety of food that they spread on white sheets to dry. I get a chance to taste it when no one is here. But since the day the tree was cut, the younger one is always playing with her friends. There is hardly any food. I have to fly far away in search of food.” One afternoon, when I fly away in search of grains… [[Continue->CrowEgg]] </div>

[[Option 1: Home going out->HomeGoingOut]] [[Option 2: Spin of a heart->SpinOfAHeart]]

Shipra is quite fuzzy that day. She cleans the house and declutters the decluttered ones… the neurons in her brain as if they are cooking together and firing energy out through her body. For some reason, the cleaned house looks messy and cluttered to her… When she brushes the leaves of the neem near the door side… a few men arrive at the front door with machinery enough to remove a few chunks… “Hello bhaiya, come inside… the tree is in my backyard.” The men enter her house while chattering about the possibilities of taking the tree chunks outside the house to the timber lorry they came with… One man says, “We need to cut the tree into smaller pieces, otherwise it’s not easy to take it outside.” Shipra, while widening the back door, feels something stuck in her throat and gags severely, as if she didn’t hear their chat fully. The men do their duty and leave the house by 5 pm, and it’s time for her kids to come home as well. The younger one is so happy… “Bhaiyyaaa… now I can play Kho-Kho (chasing), Nondi (hopscotch), Pacha Kudhirai (leapfrog) and … with my friends!” Shipra prepares tea for both of them as the elder one would come any minute now. Kids love Shipra’s tea. Now all of them are drinking tea outside, sitting on a [[wood chunk->WoodChunk]] that Shipra asked the men to leave here as she can use them for some purpose, she could not explain the purpose though… The younger says, “Amma, why does the tea taste so different today?” Hearing this, the elder one and Shipra look at each other, as if they also realise it, just now. [[Return to Dilemma 1->Shipra's Dilemma]]

Kids gone to school and college. Shipra is at home as she took off today. “Just tell that manager that I feel feverish… no no, not feeling feverish but having fever, otherwise she would not believe me,” Shipra tells her colleague and friend, blaming partner. It is 1 pm… the sun is at its peak, as if summer in winter. Actually, it is not winter… a transition to summer from winter. The sun is buckled up to take over its duties from its not-so-visible whitey wintery friend. Shipra sits on the dehleez adjacent to the wall in the backyard, sipping tea and gazing at her backyard as if things are visible to her now, because the tree had hidden them for years and years. Her immediate thought is: “Aha, what a relief… now the crow cannot build the nest anymore here and can’t steal the food… but I still need to watch the food, it may come back just for the food.” “Oh that wood chunk… how can I make use of it? Will it be useful anyway?” She inspects her backyard as if she is a “Backyard Inspector”. She cannot stop at one thing at a time. She immediately jumps into another thought, making a makeshift shelter, but suddenly changes her mind: “Leave it… what can I do with that?” Suddenly, she goes inside and turns on her TV, and for some reason, the news channel is already on. The reporter reads: “The government has approved a million rupees project to clean and rejuvenate [[Thuaiyal->Project]]. Some NGOs and other Government officials have expressed appreciation for this project.” Shipra thinks she feels nothing, but at the same time something… while her heart takes a spin and tries to settle down somewhere in her brain database. Her vision into her spinny world deviates by the sound of a crow. She quickly rushes outside, thinking the crow might have come back to steal her vadagam that she prepared out of yesterday’s leftover rice, kept outside to dry. But there is no crow outside. Only a breeze that touches her body and flies away… [[Return to Dilemma 1->Shipra's Dilemma]]

“The new tree is smaller with fewer branches. Its bark feels cold beneath my claws. Other crow families watch from far, silent and cautious. Still I begin, one twig followed by another. My kids huddle together, waiting for a shelter. Their eyes follow every movement of my wings. I will make it as quick as possible. This time it might not be perfect, but it shall be enough. We will make this space our new home. There will be new routes to find food. My children will learn to fly in a new sky.” Once, the [[Thuaiyal->Thuaiyal]] channel roared with clean, fierce water, lined with lots of trees. Now, it stinks of decay. It is littered with plastic waste and remains from the butcher shop, where fish once swarmed. The chances of finding food are lesser here. But we survive. We always do. [[Return to Dilemma 2->Crow]]

… the cat strikes and steals away one egg. The baby crows keep crowing. The lady’s children at the home scare away the cat. I return to a horror that has already happened. Shell. Silence. Air where life was. My wings feel heavier than the sky. I circle above the wall, the backyard, the leftover chunk of wood, and the empty space where our tree once stood. To stay feels dangerous. To leave feels like erasing generations. I am again in a dilemma. [[Fly away->CrowFinalleave]] [[Stay again->CrowFinalstay]]

A leftover chunk->: asked to remain, purposeless but present, like a [[question->Shipra's Dilemma]] that refuses to leave.

A million-rupees promise: “clean and rejuvenate Thuaiyal.” Appreciation, announcements, and the weight of believing. [[Go back->SpinOfAHeart]]

I gather my children close and rise into the evening air. The street grows smaller beneath us. The backyard becomes memory. Somewhere ahead, another uncertain tree waits. We carry home inside our wings. [[Return to Crow's Dilemma->Crow]]

I stay. I rebuild slowly, guarding every sound and shadow. The wall becomes shelter. The sky feels closer than before. Home becomes fragile, but it is still ours. [[Return to Crow's Dilemma->Crow]]

I have two sisters and an independent mother who are my world and everything in it. I love them even when they [[bully->Bully]] me.

[[Why am I different from others?|Why am I different from others?]] [[I am going to talk to them.|I am going to talk to them. ]] [[I am going to run away from my family|I am going to run away from my family]]

Mumma! Look at this female boy using my lipstick, bindi and my facial cream. Don’t tell everyone that you are my brother. You are bringing shame to our family. Stop everything right now. Did you forget that you are the only son in our family? How can I arrange marriages for your sisters? People hate my femininity. How can I help [[myself->Myself]] when this my nature. Should I live for myself or for my family?

I stood before [[Mumma->MummaSociety]] and whispered, “ Please [[accept->Accept]] me as your daughter.” This [[society->MummaSociety]] hurts me, please stand with me and fight for me. One day, will you buy me a saree, Jhumkas, and lipstick, like you would for my sisters?

I am going away to a place where no one can beat me, scold me, harass me, touch me, or pinch me. [[I am going away->IAmGoingAway]].

I would like to live with you, Mumma. Won't you accept me as your daughter? People are making fun of me. Won’t you protect me from all of them? Can’t I live [[happily here?->HappilyHere]] Should I [[hide all feelings->HideAllFeelings]]?

What has gotten into you? What are you talking? You are the only son in our family. Have you thought about what others will think about us? Come on, let’s go to the temple or the hospital. Trust me, you will be alright.

It's okay. It’s your life, you can it the way you want. Just focus on your studies and do well. When you succeed, people will start listening to you.

<div class="scene"> <img class="illustration" src="../images/lipstic.jpeg" alt="A lipstic"> It hurts me a lot, but I am [[happy->Happy]] with my [[feminine identity->FemininityIdentity]]. I want to [[celebrate->Celebrate]] every second of my life.

I have a big responsibility to take care of my family and my sisters when I grow up. I have to stay with them. They are important to me.

I cannot hide my [[feelings->Feelings]]. It [[hurts me->HurtsMe]] a lot. Why can’t my own people understand me?

Mumma loves them more than me.

My mom Loves me

I beg, and I do sex work, all for my femininity identity. I am not alone anymore, yet I still feel alone. Now my shoulders long to carry my school bag, and my hands long to touch books.

<div class="scene"> <video autoplay loop muted playsinline class="illustration"> <source src="../images/transition.mp4" type="video/mp4"> </video> I gave [[freedom->Freedom WhatDoIWant]] to myself. This is my body. I am a WOMAN now. This is my victory. </div>

<div class="scene"> <img class="illustration" src="../images/hand1.jpeg" alt="A hand"> Yes, I am here with a new family. I have a new mother, [[guru->what happened]], chela, and many relatives. All of them are like me. </div>

Am I happy? What do I want? Feminine body, money, identity, safety, family, respect, rights, equality, support, etc.? Can’t I have it all together?

Guru! What happened to you?? Oh my gosh! Where are the police? Where is the law? Where is humanity? Am I going to be the next one?

<div class="innocent"> <img class="illustration" src="../images/Toclickornottoclick.png" alt="cover page"> <div class="caption"> <h2>(link: (passage:)'s name)[(goto: "Home")]</h2> </div>