10 Worst torture devices of all time

Although the Middle Ages did present some troubled times to the whole of humanity in terms of widespread religious reformation and a revolution in political beliefs, it may not be a surprise that there did exist a time called the Dark Ages. One read through the torture devices, and methods, listed below should convince you about the aptness of that name. They are a reflection of mankind’s darkest times as well as the convoluted desires we bear and seldom expose.

1. Punishing Shoes: The shoes were often used in conjunction with the standing pillory (a device that holds your head and wrists in place while you stand). How long do you think you could stand on your tippy-toes before you had to rest your heels on those iron spikes?
2. The Boots: The victim’s legs were placed between two planks of wood and bound together with cords. Between the cords the torturers placed wedges which they would violently hammer. Each time a wedge was thumped down, an small portion of the shin bone was shattered. The tormentors could hammer at least a dozen wedges up and down the legs. When the boots were removed, the bone fragments fell to pieces and the skin of the lower legs merely served as loose sacks for them.
3. Water Torture: The water torture was a favorite among Japanese POW guards during WWII. The victim was first bound with barbed wire and his mouth stuffed with rags. Next, the guards would snake a tube down the victim’s nasal passage and bloat his belly with water. Once that was finished, the guards would kick and beat the poor chap’s midsection until his stomach lining burst and and death ensued.
4. Cat’s Paw: This was simply used to slowly tear the flesh from its victim, often times all the way down to the bone, after being strapped face-front onto a wall.
5. Drawing and quartering: Quartering is the rack taken to the next level and was reserved only for murderers and those who attempted regicide. Each of the prisoner’s limbs were tied to a horse and the horses were whipped simultaneously so that each limb would erupt from the body in an instant. Exhibit A: Guy Fawkes.
   
6. Cleansing the soul: This was a “warm-up” torture, where the guy was chained down to a bed and made to swallow boiling water or coals. Or both. The names is because this practice was believed to cleanse the unfortunate’s soul of all evil before beginning the more actions packed stuff.
7. The Hanging Cage: I pity the guy, or lady, who ended up like this. First, the victim is stripped to nothing and then placed in a cage  – and not any cage. This is could be adjusted such that the bars completely constrained all movements of the victim. Next, the whole arrangement was suspended from a high point to die of starvation, thirst or exposure to extreme temperatures – which could take weeks.
   
8. The Judas Cradle: The victim was hoisted above the sharpened vertex of a small pyramid and brought down crotch first on it. The torturer could also decide how much of the person’s weight came down on it by pulling on cords and chains the victim was hoisted with.
   
9. Iron Maiden: The following is a depiction of the first recorded use of the Iron Maiden on August 14, 1515 : “A forger of coins was placed inside, and the doors shut slowly, so that the very sharp points penetrated his arms and legs in several places, and his belly and chest, and his bladder and the root of his member, and his eyes, and his shoulders, and his buttocks, but not enough to kill him; and so, he remained making great cry and lament for two days, after which he died.”
10. Impalement: You still here? You sick bastard! Anyway, a long spike, seldom oiled or greased, was thrust into the unfortunate fellow’s anus and pushed in until it jutted out of his mouth. What made it more gruesome was that after impalement, the victim could survive up to a day before blood loss and infection killed him. The most famous perpetrator of this method even incorporated this technique into his name – Vlad the Impaler.
    

Something About Sweden

There’s something about Sweden that keeps you indoors and looking at the overcast skies with dull wonderment. The sun is not to be seen much, and it is almost always snowy – at least, now in January. Why would people want to live so close to the geographic North Pole is beyond my limited imagination, but now that they are here, they seem to be having a good time out of it. They never do come out, unless for the occasional dog walking and, of course, going to school or work. I’m here spending a vacation with my parents and today’s the last day of the holidays before I head back to the bleak brilliance of sandy Dubai. In fact, at the beginning, Sweden portended a welcome change from the heat and the sweat, and most importantly, the sand which was everywhere – especially in my mouth during sandstorms. I’m someone who appreciates the calm and the serene – especially when the people are everywhere around you but find it good enough to mind their own business. You see, I come from India, and in India, the concept of privacy exists only in bathrooms (at least, the non-public ones) and the trial rooms in clothes stores. The people are not to blame though: there’s no space. But here, it’s the exact opposite. I liked it at first. It was like I was living in a Christmas greeting card.

Moderately high buildings rise solemnly around our house, which is on the outskirts of the Uppsala Kommun, and a well groomed road partitions the scene outside our window symmetrically; it’s like looking into a rectangular kaleidoscope. Being so high up on the latitudes, sunrise and sunset are only separated by a few hours. However, that doesn’t seem to bother anyone. There lingers a dense sensation of expectation in the gusty wind: it is as if someone up there is expecting that everyone down here go about their work as if nothing has happened. Or maybe it’s just me. But I’m new to “this place” and that’s how “this place” makes me feel. I do confess I’m not much of a traveler and traveling to loads of places in a short span of time does season one to develop a tolerance for the strange, right? Anyway, one other thing I was noticed was this: a traffic jam is said to happen when there are more than 3 cars on the road! And these are all the reasons I want it to snow so much. The precipitation is all that tells me that I am not actually trapped in a lifeless greeting card. Well, that and the occasional sighting of the moon.

It’s snowing now.

I’m not mad.

Perhaps you just have to get the knack of it all. The knack of minding your business for a while. Sweden is an excellent opportunity to rediscover oneself. There is nothing much to do otherwise. The countryside, which seemingly lies past a clearly marked border a small distance from our house, seems to say this: “I will shut up, and I will have everyone else shut up. All I want from you is your true self.” Sweden is the retrospection that speaks through its silence.

The voice of Sweden is quite loud in international diplomatic and economic circles, or so I hear. I wonder why Norway and Finland are silent, though. The population of this country is less than Mumbai in India, but I don’t think I’d like to see this place crowded. Some cities and towns have that aura, you know, that they need to be crowded to come alive. New York has that, although I’ve never been there, and so does Chennai. That’s what makes or breaks those places; otherwise, they would stand like defunct movie sets on redundant beaches. But Sweden – the whole country and not just some of its cities – is a poignant assertion of its independence. There is a way in which the people carry themselves, a pride that is immediately palpable but not so immediately ostentatious. As much as I say that this place is a greeting card, the above facts make it a seemingly benign place. If Sweden were a live person, then it would be a middle-aged man with a sardonic brown beard, long wavy hair, and the air of of someone you don’t want to mess with – probably like Lionel Luthor in ‘Smallville’ except for the villainy. A benign Lionel if you will.

And it doesn’t stop there. The Swedish, at first sight, come across as very tolerant people, which they are. Their acceptance of the changes around them is admirably large, and their further willingness to adapt to it instead of remaining behind is the giant on whose shoulder they stand. To say it short, Sweden is the embodiment of the belief one should have in oneself. And I’d rather be mad and right in such a country than sane but wrong somewhere else, for in all the rightness that this country promises, it also gives me a chance to spend a few days without hearing of bloodshed.

It promises me hope.