The Money Lender's Daughter

 

 

 

Long ago, surrounded by a forest there was a small village called Rampur. In the village there lived a poor farmer, Jagga. Jagga owned a small piece of land which he tilled with the help of his son Kishan.

 

 

Under the burning sun, Jagga and Kishan worked very hard in the fields. They did not own any bullocks, so they ploughed the fields by themselves. The Gods also smiled on them. The heavens rained its blessings on them. The barren land was now fertile to sow.

 

Jagga went to the only Money lender in the village. He borrowed some money and bought seeds from the local grocer. Jagga and Kishan spent the next week planting the seeds. Every morning before sun rise Kishan used to bring water from the river nearby and irrigate his fields. The seeds soon sprouted into saplings and then very soon the entire field began to sway in gold colour of wheat. 

 

Kishan saw his father  sitting by the fields and looking at the swaying crop of wheat. His face was creased with wrinkles and beads of sweat moved from his brow down his cheeks. yet there was a spark in his eyes. The crops that stood proud in the fields gave hope of a better tomorrow.

 

Kishan walked upto Jagga and gently took his arm, " It's late father. Let's go home".

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A hand roughly shook Kishan awake. It was only then that Kishan heard his father shouting hoarsely. Kishan could not make out what his father was trying to say.

Kishan wanted to ask him to calm down, but Jagga was already running out of their hut.

 

Kishan got up on his feet and followed his father out into the open. There against the Dark Night the entire field was lit up in bright crimson colour.

 

The crops were on fire.

 

The entire village had gathered. Tens of legs were bringing buckets full of water from the river and splashing it on the burning crops. But the flames, like hundreds of tongue of a vicious demon, angrily consumed the once standing proud crop.

 

By sunrise all that was left was wisps of white smoke rising from the smoldering ashes in the field. And Jagga, on his knees with his head buried in his hands.

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Jagga was standing in front of the Money Lender. Head bowed, eyes to the ground, hands folded, begging for mercy. The money lending is not a business for the kind hearted. The Money Lender showed no mercy and was firm.

 

"I am sorry about your loss. But all that I can do is give you one extra week to return my money, or else I will takeover your fields".

 

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Jagga spent the week, trying to borrow money from his friends and family. Most of the villagers were farmers and were barely making ends meet. The only well off families were the family of the Money lender and the Grocery shop owner.

 

Jagga tried to borrow money from the Grocery shop owner, but was shooed him away.

 

A week later Jagga was again standing in front of the Money Lender. Head bowed, eyes to the ground, hands folded, begging for mercy.

 

But the Money Lender would have none of it. "Jagga, I am sorry, I cannot give you any more time. I will assume ownership of your fields from tomorrow".

 

Jagga begged," but, my lord, I have nothing else. How will I and my son survive". Jagga collapsed in a heap on the floor crying inconsolably.

 

The Money Lender allowed Jagga to lie there for sometime and allowed him to cry his heart out. When he was convinced that the poor farmer was completely broken in mind and soul, he stepped closer. He held Jagga and helped him to his feet.

 

" No farmer should have to give up his land. After all the land is like your mother, feeding you and your children. So I think I have a way out."

 

 

Jagga was desperate and again sank to his knees,"My lord, I will do anything you ask for. I will be a slave to you for the rest of my life".

 

Sensing his moment the Money lender spoke," Jagga, I will free you of all your debts, if your Son agrees to marry my daughter".

 

Jagga looked on at Money Lender perplexed, unable to understand. The Money Lender did not want to say anything else to ease the look on the face of the poor farmer. So he quickly asked Jagga to leave with a warning. " By tomorrow morning let me know your decision".

 

The Money Lender turned around and walked off. Jagga stood there for a few moments, alone, dwarfed by the grand splendor of the Money Lender's hall. Then slowly with unsure steps he stepped towards the doorway. He paused at the massive arch of the doorway and looked back, still unable to comprehend the terms set by the Money Lender.

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Kishan heard his father out with patience. kishan was not only hardworking but wise beyond his age. While Jagga was scared to be happy, as he was afraid the fate might snatch his happiness yet again. Kishan was thinking beyond what was obvious. They were no match for the Money Lender. There was no way that the Money Lender would give away his daughter to a poor Farmer's son. There has to be a catch.

 

Jagga slept soundly. The days events had emotionally drained him.  Kishan was awake, chewing on a strand on grass, sitting with his back to the muddy wall of his hut. He could see the Money Lender's palatial house, clearly outlined against the dark sky, towering over the entire landscape. Light from within the house was glowing through a single window open on the first floor.

 

Kishan suddenly made up his mind, stood up and started walking towards the Money lender's house. The entire village was asleep, but for a few stray dogs who were not interested in him.

 

Kishan reached the Palatial house. The huge door at the entrance was closed. He circled the house till he was standing under the window through which a steady stream of light was coming out. There was a grapevine creeper going all the way upto the roof. Kishan caught hold of the creeper and pulled himself a few inches of the ground. The creeper held its place. Now confident that the creeper would take his weight, Kishan began to climb steadily.

 

As he peered over the window sill, he gasped and almost lost his grip. 

 A silhouette, or a statue.

There was faint light coming from inside the room from various lamps lit up all around the room. 

Just then the moon seemed to move out of the shadows and cast its full glory on the lady sitting by the window. She was dusky, with eyes shaped like that of a doe, highlighted with kohl. Black hair, smooth and shiny like strands of silk falling over her shoulders upto her waist. Lips, bee stung, and the colour of a rose. Aroma of sandalwood filled the air, where she was sitting.

She had seen him coming.

 

"Hello, I am Prerna" she said

 

"I am Kishan, the farmer's son."

What brings you here in the middle of the night? If my father's guards catch you, you will be killed.

I was having trouble sleeping

So, does climbing up the creepers help??

Ha ha ha, Yes it does, if the answer to the question that is keeping me awake, lies at the end of the creeper.

And what question, may I ask, has stolen your sleep?

Your father wants me to marry you

And you wanted to see if I am good enough???

she got off the window and moved a few steps back.

Kishan climbed in and saw her in full splendour. Long flowing robes, pink and white, like the ones Gods dressed up in, in the village temple.

Kishan went down on his knee
 I am  a poor farmer's son. If I had been a poet, maybe, only then, maybe I could have described how beautiful you look. Not even in dreams can I imagine you to be mine. That is why my mind is restless trying to find out why your father would give you away to me.

Time stands still as the Moon looks through the window, Kishan down on one knee mesmerized at the beauty radiating from Prerna's face, and Prerna looking into his eyes. She saw in his eyes a young soul, guileless, pure of heart.

So be it, thought Prerna and then said aloud," Kishan, I am cursed. An ascetic my father had slighted, cursed me saying that my bridegroom will die on the first night.And it is to free me of my curse, my father is using you as a pawn. The fire in your fields was no accident."

Kishan's looked on, an anger raging through his veins.

Prerna continued,"My father wants me to marry the rich grocer's son. Just because the rich grocer owns half of the village fields. But I hate the grocer's son. He is lazy and does nothing all day. My father expects you to die and then I will be free of the curse. Thereafter he will marry me off to the Grocer's son".

Kishan's mind was racing now. He didn't have the might to take on the Money lender, yet the injustice meted out to him and his father could not go unanswered. He steeled himself and said," And what if I don't die".

"Oh, I will happily spend the rest of my life with you," exulted Prerna.

"Then I will not die," said Kishan with a resolve so firm that it made Prerna look at him with admiration and respect.

As Kishan made his way down the creeper, Prerna looked up at the sky and invoked the blessings of the Gods.
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Kishan woke up Jagga and said, " Listen father. Go to the Money Lender and tell him that you agree to his terms. Then ask him for a month's time to organize a lavish wedding befitting his stature".

Jagga looked up at his son,"Lavish wedding?what are you talking about?"

Kishan placed his hand on his father's shoulder and said," Lavish it will be, trust me".

Kishan packed a few clothes into a bundle, as his father looked on," where are you off to, my son?"

"To seek answer to our troubles", replied Kishan.

" But the Forest...it takes three days just to cross the forest", protested Jagga

" I will be back, don't you worry", Kishan reassured Jagga

" You are asking a parent not to worry", Jagga smiled

In reply Kishan touched his father's feet and set off  on the path that lead through the forest.

Jagga watched his son leave, standing at the door of his hut, muttering a prayer.
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The path through the forest was narrow and obscured in most places by overgrown shrubs, low hanging branches. The forest was not a quiet place. There were shrill shrieks of birds every now and then, rustling of leaves as some animal moved around and an incessant chatter of insects in the background. The foliage was so thick overhead that the sun struggled to peep through. The villagers did not venture into the forest all by themselves. They always travelled in groups, unlike Kishan who was on his own. But then, the villagers did not face the same kind of problems.

Kishan made slow progress, his mind far away, thinking about Prerna.

Prerna gave him hope, a reason to go on.

The sun seemed to give up, as darkness began to descend all around. Kishan knew it would be futile to continue. He needed a place to rest. He could hear water flowing nearby. It was a small stream. Kishan washed his face, hands and feet and looked around.

Just across the stream was a huge banyan tree, so old, probably older than time itself. Its trunk was huge, and the secondary roots that extended from the branches to the earth were spread all around, and so thick that they appeared like pillars, holding up the roof of an old palace. Kishan cleared the fallen leaves from around the trunk. He took out a piece of cloth from his bundle and spread it out on the ground. Then he lay down, resting his head on the bundle.

A pair of bloodshot eyes watched from high up in the Banyan tree as Kishan rolled over to one side and curled into blissful dreams. He is an intruder, he must be dealt with. But before that, I will toy with him, torment him, make him run for his life, thought the Demon, whose abode was the old Banyan tree.

The Demon landed on the ground next to Kishan without making a sound. Then the Demon arched his back and gave out a full throated roar.

AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH

Kishan opened his eyes and saw the Demon. Pitch black face, white fangs, a red forked tongue, pointed ears like a canine, muscular body like that of a bull, claws so big, waiting to tear his flesh apart.

 He had heard stories of the supernatural haunting the forest. He was not afraid when he set out on his journey. And being afraid was not going to help now. So kishan gathered his wits and decided to play it the other way. He feigned a yawn. He then brought up the back of his hand to his mouth, stifling the yawn, and said to the Demon," I am trying to sleep. Please don't make so much noise".

Having said that, Kishan rolled over to the other side and went back to sleep.

The Demon stood there, mouth open wide, and eyes blinking. What had just happened. The puny of a human had told him to shut up and gone back to sleep. This is so bad for my reputation, thought the Demon. He looked around to see if anyone had seen what had just happened. There was no one else there. Then the Demon gingerly stepped to the other side. This time he reached way down and let out a thunderous roar that could be heard for miles.

UUUUUUUAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH

The birds that had settled down into their nests, startled, flew off in all directions. Many animals in the forest, the hunter and the prey, both, bolted from their hiding places. The Demon snarled and spat at Kishan," I AM GOING TO EAT YOU".

Kishan calmly wiped his face, slipped his hand into the bundle under his head and took out a Roti. He thrust the Roti in the Demon's hands and said, " are you hungry? Eat this".

And Kishan again turned over to the other side and went back to sleep. The Demon stood there looking stupidly at Kishan, and then at the Roti in his hand, and then at Kishan, and then the Roti in his hand, and then...
 
The Demon leaped over Kishan and landed on the other side. He brought his face close to Kishan's. Kishan propped himself up on his elbows and stared back at the demon and said," Look Mister, am I making Aaaargh, Urrrgh sounds and trying to scare you? Then why are you doing all this to me?"

" You are not afraid of death?" asked the Demon as he settled back on his haunches.

" I am going to die in a month anyway, so why should I be afraid of dying today", replied Kishan.

The Demon now sat down crosslegged and asked," Going to die in a month?"

Kishan sat up now comfortably with his back resting against the trunk of the Banyan. As the night passed, Kishan told the Demon about the Debt, the fire, the terms, the curse.

 The night turned into day, as the Demon perched high up on the Banyan tree looked on as Kishan slept. Kishan, tired from his journey the day before, and the night long conversation, had slipped into deep sleep. Strange young man he is, the Demon thought. The Demon was amazed at the  nonchalant attitude and the courage and shown by Kishan. He hadn't met anyone like Kishan time now. Kishan had treated him in such a friendly manner.

Kishan had made him feel like human.

The sun was almost over their heads, by the time Kishan woke up. he stretched his limbs, got up and walked over to the stream. Just as he was washing his face, he remembered the Demon. He looked around and could not see a soul. Was it a dream,? My tired mind playing tricks? so thought Kishan.

Just then he heard a voice call out,"Slept well, my friend?" And standing across the stream was the Demon. Kishan barely nodded, when the Demon flew over to be by his side, put his arms around Kishan's shoulders in camaraderie, and started walking with him.

"So let's work out a way to sort out your problems," said the Demon.

Taken aback a bit by this friendly attitude and nervously looking at the huge claws wrapped over his shoulder, Kishan barely managed a ,"How?"

The Demon stepped in front of Kishan and snapped his fingers saying,

" Om Gilli Gilli ChooMantar, kali kalantar".

And Lo ! a bag full of gold coins appeared out of thin air. "That takes care of your lavish wedding" said the Demon.

" Oh! My widow is going to be rich", smirked Kishen.

The Demon guffawed out a huge laugh." Don't worry, I will take care of the other problem too." The Demon took a twirl on his toes and Lo! he turned into a parrot. The Parrot flew up and settled down on Kishen's shoulder and said, "Now let's go back to the village, shall we".
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As soon as Kishen stepped out of the forest into the clearing, a few boys playing nearby saw him. The news of his arrival spread like wild fire. Jagga came running to greet him.

The entire village turned up at Jagga's door, enquiring about Kishen's well being. Kishen greeted everyone politely and answered all queries. As soon as they had a moment alone, Kishan pulled out the bag of gold coins and handed it to Jagga. The gold coins seemed to light up the entire hut.

Jagga's eyes bulged out of their sockets. Kishen gave him time to absorb the shock.

"how?....When?.....Where?..." stuttered Jagga.

"Never mind,Father. Prepare for the lavish wedding now"

"But with this kind of money, we can repay the debt ten times over", protested Jagga.

"It is not about the Debt anymore, Father,"

Jagga looked up from the gold coins at his son's face. The face of a serene and confident man. His son, had grown from an adolescent into a Man. A man, who had grown wings, broken free of dependence on his parents, and taken over the decision maker's role in the family. Perhaps it was time to pass on the mantle and let his son lead the way.

The parrot perched on the bamboo stake that held up the roof, looked on, watching the father and son interaction.

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The village was abuzz with gossip that Kishan had found a buried treasure in the forest. Jagga was spending freely to organize a grand wedding. The entire village was happy for him, at the turn of events. Everyone pitched in to help. Villagers stopped going to their fields and it appeared that the only work that anyone had was to help organize the wedding. Bamboo was cut from the forest to make the frame work of a huge hall in the centre of the village. The hall dwarfed the house of the Money Lender also. The cloth needed to cover the bamboo framework had to be brought from the town. The grocer too needed supplies as the entire village was going to turn up at the feast. A large convoy left the village for the town, to get the essentials for the wedding. The Money Lender looked on bemused. A lavish wedding wouldn't hurt, after all it was a small but welcome change in his devious plan. The end is going to be the same, he thought.

In all the hustle bustle the wedding day approached. The hall was ready, covered in pink and red colours. The entrance was decorated with a hundreds of flowers. There was a separate hall where the delicacies were being served. A stage had been set up in the middle where the Priest was going to solemnize the wedding. The entire village had turned up in new clothes.
The Priest called out to the village elders," It's time. Please bring the Bridegroom".
The young boys raced each other to reach Jagga's hut. Then the village elders accompanied by Jagga arrived with the fully decked up mare.

Jagga called out to his son," Kishan, it's time, let's go".

The parrot perched on the bamboo stake inside the hut flew and landed on the floor. 

As Kishan stepped out of the hut, everyone was awe struck. He looked so handsome dressed up like a prince. A proud father, that Jagga was, slightly adjusted Kishan's turban and helped him mount the mare. The drummers belted out a peppy beat as the entire procession broke into a dance from Jagga's hut to the Marriage hall.

The rituals started and soon the Priest called out for the Bride. Prerna came accompanied by a few handmaidens. The din in the marriage palace died down immediately. All heads turned towards her. She looked so beautiful in the red bridal dress.

The ceremony was complete, as Kishen and Prerna were tied in holy matrimony. The villagers continued feasting and making merry through the night.

The Money Lender took his daughter and Son in law back to his palatial house. She was going to be sent off with her husband in the early morning after a simple ceremony.
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The Money Lender took Kishan to the guest chambers. There he kept Kishan engaged in long boring conversation about, how lovingly he had bought up his daughter and what expectations he had from his son in law.

Prerna had retired to her room. Exhausted from the day's events, she slumped on her bed, perhaps for one last time, she remembered the curse. It jolted her awake. She had a dream wedding. She didn't want it to turn into a nightmare. She sat upright and started praying.

Kishan too began to feel sleep overcoming him. The slow boring monotone of the Money Lender's voice was not helping at all. In no time Kishen slumped on the couch where he was sitting. The Money Lender just sat there bidding his time.

And as the night passed it's darkest hour, the Curse struck.

The Money Lender walked upto Kishen and checked for signs of life. Finding none, he walked away to his private chambers. He would raise the hue and cry in the morning.

Meanwhile, in Jagga's hut, the real Kishen waited. Sensing it was time, he stepped out. There was not a soul awake. Even the dogs were not around. He walked towards the Money Lender's house. The entire village was asleep in the massive marriage hall. As he reached the Money lender's house, he saw the gates were open and the guards snoring away. Kishen walked in and looked around. Soon he found himself in the guest chamber. He saw the lifeless form of himself lying in a heap on the couch. Kishen ran to the counch and went down on his knees.

"Oh ! my friend, what have you done. Why have you sacrificed your life for me".

and Kishen began to sob uncontrollably. Just then the body on the couch seemed to turn into smoke and then the Demon appeared.

" I am not dead, my friend. I cannot die"

Kishen wiped the tears from his face and hugged the Demon.

"But ...but, the curse", Kishen had his doubts.

The Demon explained," The curse has already struck. The man Prerna married is dead. I mean, the body that I was inhabiting is dead. Now you take Prerna home in the morning and marry her secretly. The curse cannot be invoked twice, so you are safe".

"So it's all over", exulted Kishen

"No, it isn't. Not till we see the face of the Money Lender in the morning", the Demon said and gave a wicked smile.
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In the morning, the Money Lender woke up and went straight to the guest chamber. From the entrance he saw Kishen lying motionless on the sofa. He ran towards the entrance and sat down on the front steps. Then he started crying loudly,

" Oh God ! How could you be so cruel. Why? Oh God! Why?"

He continued screaming himself hoarse, beating his chest with his hands.
The wailing sounds from the Money Lender roused everyone from deep slumber. The Guards also stirred and woke up.

Soon the crowd started gathering. The Money Lender was sitting on the front steps crying himself hoarse.

" Cruel fate has snatched my son in law. Oh ! what a calamity has befallen my daughter".

The crowd started murmuring in low voices. "The Money Lender has lost it. The thought of giving away his daughter has driven him insane."

" Yes I have gone insane. My son in law, my beloved son in law...." bellowed the Money Lender.

Someone in the crowd sniggered," Good, now the Mad Man won't remember who owes how much. We are free of our Debts".

The Money Lender reacted angrily," What do you mean?"

Somebody in the crowd mustered up courage and spoke loudly," Why are you saying such inauspicious things on such a festive occasion.?"

"Inauspicious? Inauspicious? What else do you want me to say? My son in law just died", said the Money Lender angrily.

"Then who is that?", asked the villager pointing a finger.

The Money Lender turned around and the colour drained from his face.

Standing behind him was Kishen, and holding his hand was Prerna, in her red bridal dress, ready to leave.

Kishen looked up at the parrot sitting on top of the archway at the entrance. It seemed to wink at him.

"Now it's truly over", smiled Kishen.


 

The Rookie

It was like any other Government building in New Delhi,  paint peeling off in places, window air conditioners sticking out of every window like sore notes in a sad mix of British Era design and modernity. What set the building apart was the array of high tech communication equipment fitted on the roof top. Various sizes of Dish Antennas pointed at  satellites far up there in the sky. Receiving millions of bytes of data every minute and running  it down through miles and miles of cables to Servers, which were then filtered, dissected and examined threadbare by the best of Country's brains.

This was the nerve centre of India's counter espionage, The HQ of Intelligence Bureau. 

Sitting in the conference room, facing a massive 10 feet by 6 feet screen was the Director, surrounded by his group of deputies, giving him inputs for the daily briefing of PMO Prime Ministers Office.

As the Deputy Chiefs started to leave, the Director motioned Misra to stay back. Misra was Deputy Director Technical Division. All the smart young brains working in the office reported to him.

Yes Sir,

Misra, one of my best agents, Agent Cp380 wants to quit field and take up an office job. I want you to arrange a desk job in the office and a Type IV accommodation in the Government Quarters.

Yes Sir. If you give me an address, I will have my men help in moving the furniture and stuff.

The Director scribbled an address on a post it and pushed it across his desk.
.........................................................................

Misra walked into his office and summoned the secretary in. He handed her the note with address. " Tell Supdt Ranbir to organize accommodation and shifting."

It was all done in the next few days. Shifting to a Government Accommodation, setting up the furniture, other essentials that a normal family requires, TV Fridge etc, all on Government of India expense. A minor dent in the economy in return for walking on the dark side for the country. A well deserved retirement. The agent had a month off, before taking up any form of duty.
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In another Government building a thousand miles away, in Islamabad, the ISI director was holding his daily meeting.

Balochistan, NWFP, Kashmir, Jiye Sind,  Arms to insurgents, Politicians...all routine matters were being deliberated by the most powerful men in Pakistan. They had unrestricted funding, unrestricted by prevailing laws, and answered to No One.

At the bottom of the agenda was fresh intelligence that had come in from India, been analysed and ready to be archived or actioned.

Col.Shahbaaz, the Chief of India operations briefed the others present in the room," Agent Cp380 has surfaced in New Delhi. Agent Cp380 was a very high value asset of IB and had hit us hard in Kathmandu where we lost 4 agents. 3 dead, 1 Disabled. We are going in for a kill".
.....................................................................

The kill Order went down the very next day.

As a young boy in courier uniform rang the door bell. His hand was already in the bag, clutching a fully automatic pistol with silencer. As soon as the door opened he drew his hand out and squeezed the trigger long enough, to allow 5 bullets to escape the muzzle in rapid succession. They hit the man straight in the chest. He fell backwards into the room. The courier boy took one look at the shirt turning red on the chest, put away his weapon, closed the door and walked away. He could hear a woman scream from inside the house, as he reached for his cellphone.

Parcel delivered to Customer. Well received.  He texted.

.......................................................................

All hell broke loose at the IB HQ. An attack in the family accomodation. It was an unwritten rule amongst rival Agencies. Only field agents were valid targets when undercover. File pushers in office jobs were not to be harmed. They could be cultivated, bribed, blackmailed, charmed, honey trapped into helping the enemy.
But shooting down in cold blood was a strict No Go area.

The code had been broken. And there would be repercussions.

Misra had his secretary, Supdt Ranbir and his two lackeys who had helped set up the accommodation arrested. They were interrogated for a week, subjected to brutal torture.

Misra was summoned to the Director's office. There seems to have been some new development, thought Misra. The Director had other sections working on this case as well. His own failure to come up with an answer rankled Misra as he walked into the Director's office.

The Director was alone in his room.

As a Director he had seen a lot of Ops go bad as the enemy got better of him at times. Thats how the game was played. You win some, you lose some.  But this was too close, in his own city, to be waived away. His brow furrowed as he brooded over the feedback from Misra.

"There is a leak, Misra. We have to find it", the Director said after a long pause.

" We are working on it, Sir," Misra replied.

"Sir, any new development", Misra asked.

The Director sighed, ," He died an hour ago. He was tough, to have survived a week with five bullets in his chest. We will have a condolence meeting in the Conference Room tomorrow. Assemble the entire staff there. We will deliberate on a befitting reply. We will also brief them on new security measures for the family, now that the enemy has opened a new front."

Everyone knew that a counter strike would be ordered. But the shrewd Director had ordered a strike on the very next day of the hit. The groundwork had been completed by the agents already present in the enemy territory. The hit squad was well on the way.
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It was a small room of Customs and Immigration at the Attari border near Amritsar. As soon as Suhail dressed in a Pathani suit walked in, the custom officer withdrew two passports from his drawer.

"Two passports, One on one free offer",  chuckled Suhail.

He was the chirpy, easy going guy, who made friends easily. Hardly the guy you would expect to be an Indian Intelligence Field Agent.

In response, the Customs officer nudged his head in the other direction. Suhail turned around and saw a burqa clad woman sitting there.

" I have a rookie", beamed Suhail.

" Get a hold on yourself", admonished the Intelligence Officer who doubled as Customs officer at the border outpost.
" Do you realize, the importance of your mission. She is your cover. Your wife, code name Samaira. Take care of her and bring her back. This is her first field trip across the border".

Suhail, walked across the International Border, towards Wagah. His papers were examined by the Pakistani Immigration officer. He was a Pakistani citizen, on a trip to India to be married to his Third Cousin. He was back with his bride".

She had to take the harder route because of Indian passport. Strip search by lady constables, interrogation by Intelligence Officers. It took some time.

Suhail nervously paced around as the stern Immigration officer looked on. "Anything bothering you", he asked.

Suhail quipped, " Can't wait to get home".

The Immigration officer guffawed as Suhail winked at him. The tension was broken. It should be all right now.

From Wagah border, they took a public transport to the Lahore Bus stand. They alighted from the bus, collected their meagre belongings, shopped for a few daily need items and then took a rickshaw and went straight to Suhail's house. This would surely throw off any body tailing them.

Suhail unlocked the house and stood by the doorway with one arm extended. "welcome home dear wife."

" You just won't improve", interjected a male voice.

The local asset was waiting for them.

Samaria took off her burqa. Suhail just stared at her. She looked stunning. Her yellow ochre kurta and fuchsia salwar lit up the entire room. Her black tresses flowed down like cascading waterfalls over her shoulder, with a few strands sticking to her face, mischievous, begging to be removed. Her lipstick faded from the long journey, but still red enough to light up Suhail's eyes.

He decided then and there, he would take good care of her, get her home, marry her and never leave home for the rest of his life.

The local asset again rudely interrupted Suhail's day dreams, " Get some rest, we have a hard nut to crack".
.......................................................................

Later in the evening, when the street was bustling with people, it was safe to step out.

The local asset took them to another safe house. As they made their way to the basement, the local asset flicked a switch at the bottom of the stairs.

It was largely empty save for a man blindfolded, gagged and tied to a chair  in the centre. A large lamp burned directly above his head. His shirt had been torn open and there were blood stains on his clothes and his face.

Samaira was still standing on the last step, unnerved probably by the scene unfolding in front of her.

Suhail, reached for her and guided her to the centre of the room.

For the next three hours, Samaira watched as Suhail interrogated, Enticed, laboured with the captive ISI officer.

Finally the prisoner wilted and gave up the information they wanted.

7860978608

The cell number of Falcon
Code name for Col.Shahbaaz, the Chief of India Ops in ISI.

As a sweating Suhail led Samaira to the stairs, the local asset, pulled out his gun and shot the prisoner from point blank range.

Suhail, embraced Samaira protectively as she recoiled.

" You are not cut out for this. I have a better assignment for you", said Suhail with a twinkle in his eye.

They rushed back home and crashed into their respective beds.

The number was transmitted to IB in New Delhi. It was put under surveillance straight away. Powerful IRS satellites in geo centric orbit miles and miles above Islamabad, tracking and transmitting the real time location of Falcon.
....................................................................

It was breaking dawn when they reached Islamabad.  Samaira in jeans and Denim top, covered in a burqa. Suhail in a Pakistan Army Uniform with Major written all over him. The local asset in a Pakistan Army Sergeant uniform.

All the way, Suhail had talked non stop to Samairah. The local asset slightly on the edge, and visibly annoyed wanted to offload him half way. But it was Suhail who was the man for the job.

..........................................................................
Col. Shahbaaz had just left home for his HQ, when he received a text.

Package Delivery. Customer feedback received. Satisfactory.

Col. Shahbaaz took a U turn in the middle of the road, causing a few other drivers to slam their brakes and come to a screeching halt.

He was in a hurry. The HQ can wait. The news had to be delivered to somebody more important than the HQ. 
..........................................................................

The ICU main door had caution notices pasted in bold.
NO SHOES ALLOWED
NO OUTSIDERS ALLOWED.

A nonchalant  Col Shahbaaz just walked passed the door. The hospital Attendant took one look at the Army Khakhis and lowered his gaze.

Col Shahbaaz walked briskly as his standard issue Pakistan Army boots created an echo in the quiet ward with every step. He was not bothered about what was going on around him. He was could barely conceal the good news that he carrying inside his heart.

He came to Room No. 7 and walked straight in.

"My dear brother, I wanted to convey this news personally. I so badly wanted to see the reaction on your face. Are you ready?" said Col Shahbaaz with arms outstretched like a magician working up his audience.

The heavily bandaged man lying on bed, was taken aback slightly at the unannounced visit by the Colonel. And the exuberance on the Colonel's face, an expression he had seen so often since his childhood, whenever his elder brother was on the verge of winning any game.

Capt Ejaaz propped himself up on his elbows. "Yes Bhaijaan, whats it?? Have you found a wonder drug for my wounds."

"Yes, its a wonder drug", said Colonel Shahbaaz, "Our boys have hit a target in New Delhi. The  Indian agent who hit you in Kathmandu has been taken down."

Col Shahbaaz paused, like the magician, waiting for the arena to resound with a thunderous applause from the audience.

...instead there was a pin drop silence.

Capt Ejaaz sat with a blank expression  in his bed.

Col. Shahbaaz, a tad disappointed, looked on at his younger brother. The clock kept ticking, ...forever.

Then a single tear made its way past the one unbandaged eye of Capt Ejaaz and started moving down the cheek. Soon he was sobbing uncontrollably.

Col.Shahbaaz wouldn't have tolerated such a naked display of effeminacy from an ISI officer. But this was his younger brother. The baby brother, he had reared and protected as his own child. He instinctively reached out and held his brother by the shoulders.

Capt Ejaaz stopped sobbing as his voice turned into a snarl, "More than the wounds, my pride hurts. MY PRIDE HURTS. Oh! To be bested by an enemy agent, and that too a woman. I wanted to die. I feel so ashamed of myself".

Col Shahbaaz, stepped back, " Woman?? What woman?"

Ejaaz lost some of the scowl on his face, " who did your boys hit, brother".

"Agent code Cp380...is a woman??" The Col took another step back. "Oh I think there has been a mistake."

The pain returned to Ejaaz's wounds, " Mistake ??... BIG Mistake. Now she will come after you."

"Oh, Shut up,"shouted an indignified Col Shahbaaz. "What makes you think she will come here."

Capt Ejaaz sank back into his propped up pillow and said, " What makes you think, she isn't here already".

The resigned look on his brother's face was the last thing Col Shahbaaz saw. In the next very instant he saw Ejaaz's face jerk backwards and blood spattered all over the hospital whites and the wall behind him.

Col Shahbaaz turned around and his jaw dropped.

She looked beautiful.

God has hardwired Men's brains in a strange way. One look at a drop dead gorgeous woman and all other functions of the brain just shut down.  A few feet away his younger brother lay dead with his brains blown out . Standing in front was the killer holding a Smith and Wesson Automatic with a silencer.

And all he could think of was...

She is Beautiful.

Col. Shahbaaz did not get the time to close his lower jaw. She did it for him. She had arched her back and unleashed a kick, that brought her heel smack into his jaw with brute force. It lifted him clean off the floor and hurled him a few feet back, flat on his back.

Lying sprawled on the floor, the pain in his  jaw bone forced all the near dead brain functions to reactivate. He looked at her with horror in his eyes. She is here to kill.

He was not carrying a weapon. He was sitting behind a desk for 10 years now and was no match for a field agent. He looked around frantically for anything that he could use as a weapon.

He looked at the metal stand holding the IV bottles for his brother. His very dead brother won't need any more IV fluids.

The Intelligence Agencies train their agents in various techniques, to hide in the shadows, use of fire arms, using communication devices, tailing, survive in close quarters situations...
Each agency thinks what  it is doing is unique. In fact they are all same. The likelihood of one agent guessing what another might do is very very very high.

Today was no exception.

Col.Shahbaaz's brain had weighed the odds of going for the metal stand and just moved his hand, when a bullet tore through his wrist, severing all nerves controlling any motion in that hand.

" BITCH", bellowed Col.Shahbaaz in agony, holding the limp hand in the other one, trying to stop the bleeding.

In response, she pulled the trigger once more, as he felt his left knee cap shatter. The pain was so unbearable, he threw his head back and howled with all the strength he could muster.

No one outside the room could hear a thing. The rooms in ICU are designed to keep the germs out and the sound in.

"MOLE", she said.

He looked at her with bloodshot eyes. The pain was making it difficult for him to make sense of anything she was saying.

No lengthy dialogues, no venting of spleen, no sermons on why he deserved this retribution. Just another soft squeeze on the trigger. That's all.

The bullet shattered his right knee cap. The howling started again, as she repeated the question. " MOLE ?"

As she stepped out of the Room No.7, there was Suhail standing there, another man suffering from  the open jaw syndrome.

A few moments ago, as they had approached Room No.7, he was planning to storm the room, guns blazing, like a cowboy. That would impress her for sure.

The sequence of events had overtaken him so fast, that all he could do was stand and watch. She had flung off her burqa, grabbed the gun from his holster, removed the silencer tied into her hair bun like a clip, shoved him aside, and walked into the room. All within seconds. If this wasn't real life, he would have pressed the rewind button and watched her move like a butterfly in slowmotion, again and again.

Now as she stepped out of the room, he took a peek inside through the ajar door. One man lay dead on the bed with his brain decorated on the wall behind him. Another, in Khakhi uniform lay dead on the floor.

She pressed her painted nail of the index finger into his jaw, and it closed as he gulped.

" You are the legendary Agent Cp380", he stammered as his transition from an out to impress teacher, to a besotted school boy was complete.

Prerna smirked as she pulled on her burqa. The BITCH from Col. Shahbaaz was a complement. She liked it. The LEGENDARY from her infatuated agent felt lame. Go be somebody else's puppy, she thought.

"Quick march, rookie," she ordered,"we have to get out and contact base".

......................................................................

The Director was holding the condolence meeting with his Deputies, when his cell buzzed. He picked it up and read the text.

He stood up, took a cursory glance across the room, then proudly announced," Falcon is down, the Chief of India Ops in ISI is dead. And we have the name of the mole too".

No one blinked. Somebody died on the other side and now somebody is going to die on this side.

" Misra, how dare you betray your own country and your own people. For a handful of money, you compromised the safety of our agent, the pride of our organization. She almost lost her husband in the attack. Just so you know, he is not dead. He is recovering. The wrong intel was just to bring the Falcon and the Mole out into the open", the Director barely audible as he spat it out.

Misra stood rooted to the spot as other Deputies moved in behind him.

The director raised his hand and continued, " No, he is not to be arrested. She was very specific on that."

"She wants him to run..."

Goodbye

"Bloody hell", Brij cursed looking around at  rows and rows of parked cars. It was some time since he had driven around the city on his own. Having a driver was a luxury, not so much for having someone else drive you around, but for not having to look for a parking space. But today he couldnt afford to bring his driver along. No one was supposed to know where he was going and who he was meeting.

He saw a car pull out and immediately slid his Audi into the vacant spot.

" Thank God, for his small mercies".

He stepped into the restaurant and it was so dimly lit, he stuttered to a stop. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out the faint shape of cabins curtained off with wooden partitions. The place was a far cry from the swanky restaurants where he held his business meetings. But the contact had insisted that they meet here. He was in no position to refuse.

"Cabin No. 7", he asked the passing waiter in filthy uniform.

"There", said the waiter giving him a smirk.

Brij, in his 3 piece Business suit, felt so out of place. He walked slowly towards the cabin number 7. He parted the curtain with the back of his hand and looked inside. It was a cramped place with a two seater sofas on either side with a table wedged in between. The contact was there. He could barely  make out the face due to the dim red light. Brij, the Expert Strategist to his Masters,  of many a board room brawls was unsure how to proceed. The contact motioned with his hand and said. ,"sit down".

No names, No greetings, No small talk, No appetizers, straight to the Main Course.

"Have you brought the Cash and the photograph", the Contact asked.

Brij pulled out a thick envelope out of his coat pocket and slid it across the table.
The contact opened the envelope and pulled out a thick bundle of currency notes and the photo. The contact stared at the photo and asked,

" Wife"???

Brij, recoiled. How does it matter?? Thats none of your business".

The contact put the photo back into the envelope and said," Actually it is my business now. If it is your wife, then you will be the first suspect. And if you know the cops as well as I do. In no time they will have you singing like a canary. Now I am not a big fan of singing and dancing Mister. I prefer silence, serene peaceful silence. Silence of those who come to see me, and silence of those whom I go and see."

The 3 piece suit covered it. The expensive Hugo Boss Perfume masked it. But the face....
Brij, broke into sweat.

"Yes, its my wife".

"This will require some preparation. We will have to set up an alibi. I will see you again in a week's time". The contact said, without batting an eyelid, switching immediately to another course of action, like a well rehearsed,  well laid out plan.

"He knows what to do. He comes well recommended." Brij thought to himself, unsure whether to be relieved or aghast at the dastardly deed done. "How many had stepped into this shady place and had a conversation with the contact. He was not the first and he will not be the last".

But the die had been cast. There was no turning back now.

As Brij stepped outside the restaurant. The bright sun stung his eyes. He grimaced and reached into his pocket pulled out his DKNY glares. Now to get back to his office before someone notices he is missing.

Brij looked out of his 22nd floor office. The AGM post earned him a lot of perks which included an office with a view of the seaside. He looked at the life crawling on the road below. Miniatures, cars, people.....he was one of them. What set him apart was the greed to rise above it all. He had done well for himself.   He had expensive tastes and a craving for the latest fad. He grew disinterested quickly. From his Skoda to his Audi, from his drab formals to the business suits, from the fake Raybans to his DKNY, from a rental accomodation to the flat in posh area,  all were a statement of his breathtaking success. Brij had arrived, and arrived in fashion.

There was just one more thing to bid adieu.

As if on cue, the smart svelte young beauty walked in. High heels, with a pair of silky smooth legs, red knee length skirt, a polka dot blouse, red waist coat to match, and the red clip that allowed her hair just the right amount of freedom to sway, to sway someone off the feet.

She was enamoured by  his success, his charm and in no time was more than an executive secretary to him.

Brij looked at her and thought, " I could kill for her. Unfortunately, for that to happen, someone has to die."

Brij returned home in a pensive mood. Things at home were as dull as they could be, untouched by the macabre turn of events in his life today. She was sitting by the TV watching those stupid serials. Hair unkempt, dreary face and Saree with a million creases. The kid had been put to bed. The dinner spread out on table, cold and bland, just like his welcome home.

She looked up at him and started to get up.

"I have had my dinner. I have a presentation tomorrow. I will be working late". Brij said, not wanting to engage in any lengthy conversations. The lengthy conversations always turned into a fight.
They could barely stand each other now.

She looked at him disappear into the other bedroom. A resignation writ large across her face. You marry a stranger and 20 years of moving from a reluctant lover, a friend, a respected mother of his kid, his domestic help and finally end up becoming a stranger again.

The burden of bearing and bringing up the child, taking care of all the needs, household chores had taken a heavy toll on her. The unsung martyr.

In the other bedroom, Brij opened his Sony Vaio and stared at the smiling face of his lady love. Then he saw calender on the top right corner.
"Oh the wait, its killing", impatience was his forte and his handicap.

The week passed as Brij tried to go about his daily life. However the wait kept gnawing at his insides. As he sat across from the contact, Brij could hardly control his heartbeat from racing. He could feel the veins in his head throbbing as he waited for the contact to speak up.

The contact, cold like steel, watched Brij, deliberately extending the silence, taking a strange sadistic pleasure in the discomfort of his client.

"Mister, you need to do two things. First,  get a heart attack and get yourself admitted to a hospital.
Second You need to draw up a will leaving everything to your wife."

Brij sat there unable to comprehend. "What kind of a game are you playing" his tone started to rise.

"Quiet," said the contact, like a teacher admonishing a petulant child. "Dont raise your voice."

Having seen his voice take the desired effect on Brij, the contact continued.
" You will fake a heart attack, get yourself admitted to a hospital. Then as a sign of benevolence you will draw up a will handing over all your assets to your wife. Later on, when your wife meets with an accident, you will not be in the list of suspects."

"But the doctors will know. And the will...". Brij was full of doubts.

"The doctor will be arranged. It will just require some more money. The Will can be retrieved from our lawyer and torn up once this is over", explained the contact.

Brij sank back into his seat. The simplicity and brilliance of the plan struck him. He was eager to get to the next part. ," and when will this be over".

"Sooner than you think", the contact threw the last remark at him as if in contempt.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

She sat at the foot of his bed as he sipped tea. Her head was bowed as she sobbed intermittently.
" Don't worry dear, I will recover. Its just the stress. All the hardwork and running around I do to get a better life for you and our child. I just neglected myself in fulfilling my duties towards you."

She kept sobbing. He looked at her and felt pity. How did the rich and famous put down their prized race winning horses which had gone lame. What kind of gamut of emotions they felt. It was not death, it was deliverance from their wretched existence. Ahaa...yes...it was not death it was deliverance. So he justified his own actions and felt a feeling of pride surge through him. How would he say his final goodbye to her ? It was going to happen soon. He could be kind to her in the last few days of her life. Maybe even hug her and kiss her one last time. A Goodbye kiss.

He pushed the envelope across to her and said, "all my shares, FDs, ULIPs,Cash, Car, House I have willed in your name. Its just a formality. Dont worry, I will be back on my feet in no time.

Her sobbing broke into uncontrollable stream of tears as she gasped for breath and said," I dont want to die".

Brij froze  for a moment before recovering. She must be thinking about life without me, or in her disoriented state she... ," what are you saying dear".

She was inconsolable, but the words were clear this time, " I don't want to die".  She looked at him.

Brij felt a heaviness in his chest. He looked at the reports from the nursing home lying on the bed besides him, his ECG, his Echo, his X Ray...then back at his wife.

" I know", she said, as she looked at him, tears still running down her face.

Brij looked on in dead stare, like an actor who has unable to deliver his well rehearsed lines, because the director had set up a twist in the tale.

"Ashu, the man you went to with my photograph. I have known him since he was a small boy. He lived down the street. His abusive father was always getting in trouble with the law. I cared for the child, nothing much,  simple things like buying him an icecream just to put a smile on his face.
He used to say, " Didi, one day I will buy something for you".
I used to tease him, " what will you buy, you dont have any money".
" I will buy the world for you", he used to say."

The Master Strategist in Brij's brain took over. This was a bad situation. He was analysing his options and exit routes at lightening speed. The brain that had brought him his success was racing to salvage the almost dead situation. She knew. She knew.  What if he still got rid of her. But she had an ally, the cold blooded killer. No, no, no..... Stand and Fight....no, no, no....Adapt and Survive...maybe....maybe...yes.

He feigned a stammer, to show nervousness, with a little bit of effort, if he could bring a tear or two to his eyes, that would complete the effect.

"I am sorry, I am so sorry, what I have done is .....I am so ashamed of myself..... I wasnt thinking right. But seeing you crying like this has broken my heart. I am unable to see you breakdown like this. I am so sorry..."

The look in her eyes showed, she was gone far beyond to fall prey to his machinations. The sobbing gave way to disgust as she said," When Ashu told me, I was shattered. I wanted to die. Why would I want to live, to be loathed. Then I thought about my child, my precious child, how would he live without me, how the other woman would treat him. And I felt my love for my child so overbearing that I didnt want to die.

I don't want to die

I don't want to die."

She hung her head and started sobbing again

Sensing a moment of weakness Brij played his hand," No one has to die, my Dear. We will start all over again. You remember the early days of our marriage, the late night movies, street food...lets start over once again".

She turned to face him and snarled," don't you get it. Its over. IT's OVER. You cant go back and start over again.
Your tea ...

Your tea was laced with a drug that gives symptoms of a heart attack. "

The blood drained from Brij's face, as the simplicity and irony of the plan dawned on him. The master stroke of the cold blooded Killer, Ashu The first false heart attack, The execution of Will in his wife's name, the reports from the nursing home, and a second heart attack. No one will suspect.

He felt his vision blurred, his temple started throbbing, the pain in his chest became unbearable...he could barely speak,

" Prerna, how much time I have?"

As she wiped her tears with the corner of her saree, she said," just about enough to say Goodbye".

Alpha and X

The sun was setting, there was a light cloud cover, more grey and less orange. Everyone interpreted the sky in their own terms. Some found it beautiful enough to be immortalised by taking pictures or if you were gifted enough, make a painting.

But the sky to her had a gloomy appearance.

Prerna was standing by her window, with her coffee mug. Her drab life had set into a routine, waking up to find her husband already gone for the day. Rest of the time was taken up in household chores. A little chit chat with the domestic help, browsing through the newspapers, watching re runs of those overdressed characters in melodramatic soaps. The only saving grace was her prized i6, which she used to chat and talk with her mother and friends.
She wanted an adventurous life.  A fast life, sky diving, bungee jumping, partying, clubbing everything that her overprotective parents had denied her. And she had found her mate in Ajay. He was a free spirit running wild like her. The motorcycle trip to Ladakh with her friends,  was the most daring thing she had done.

Getting tattooed and tanned....she felt alive. It seemed too good to be true. And it wasn't.

Living on the edge was fine, but Ajay was not content with that. He crossed over to the other side, the dark underbelly of life in the hills. Smoking pot in dim lit shady rooms full of hammered bodies. She didn't mind an occasional drink but she didn't do drugs. It was not a matter of her upbringing, just that she valued punishing her body by pushing herself up difficult cliffs rather than lie sprawled morose under false narcotics induced ecstasy. Ajay did not understand her reluctance to go beyond the horizon. He coaxed her, teased her, provoked her, challenged her...and when all else failed, he beat her up, black and blue. She looked at the bruises and dismissed them as a minor misunderstanding. Love doesn't make you blind. It makes you stupid. She kept taking abuse till she realized, it wasn't love.

The home coming, unending sermons and hastily packed off in marriage. She had seen enough in a very short span of time. Now she had settled into a dull house wife's role. Caged bird, or a bird with wings clipped, no wonder she found the sky gloomy.

Ram Swaroop was 7 years older, mature, with a very laid back attitude to life. He was everything she didn't want in her man. A bespectacled writer, surrounded by books, pens, typewriter.

Who uses a typewriter?? not even the lethargic moronic intelligence level Government clerks.

But this was the price she had to pay, for wanting to be a free spirit. Now she had to wait by the window watching life slip away.

The phone rang jolting her back to reality. It was her friend Gunjan from Shimla. She was speaking so fast and incoherently. Gunjan was her only link to the Ladakh escapade,  one of the four, on a freedom run. A run from the shackles of the conservative society, that ended in a nightmare nevertheless. She had to tell Gunjan to calm down.

Ajay was in ICU with a fractured jaw and broken ribs.

"Oh! Thats bad," all she could muster.
When Gunjan asked, if she was ok. Prerna just shrugged her shoulders and stated matter of factly that she had disconnected from her Ex and moved on.

She hung up, she thought about the Ex. The Run for freedom, the adrenalin filled adventure, then the abuse and the torture. The wounds and bruises were gone, but the scars...well they just refuse to go away.

As the news began to sink in, she visualized the Ex lying in a hospital bed, beaten black and blue. A strange relief swept over her, making her shiver.
Karma had finally caught up with Ex. Gods had delayed, but not denied her justice.

She saw the car pulling into the drive way. Her husband was back. She rushed to the washroom and splashed her face with cold water. There was no reason to let him see her reminiscing her past. She had a secure life with him and she wouldn't mess it up this time.

Ram Swaroop came in and exchanged a quick hello, and headed straight for his room. She went into the kitchen and started getting dinner ready. Boring and bland dinner...

She arranged the plates on the dining table and walked into the bedroom. He was in the shower. The coat lying crumpled on the bed. She picked it up to put it away, when she noticed the sleeves were soiled.
Oh God! Ram Swaroop, at least appear well dressed in public. She made a face,  rolled up her eyes to the heaven and grimaced.

This will have to be drycleaned. She began to empty the pockets. A wallet, some bills, cover of his spectacles and a ticket stub.

Airline boarding card...Shimla

He was on a flight today. He did not tell her. Was he hiding something? Was he having an affair?? She looked into the pockets found nothing else. She opened the wallet,

Cash
Credit card
Driver's licence
Visiting cards
And a photo...

She reeled back in horror...

It was her photograph,  in a helmet sitting on a motorcycle perched on hilltop.
Her Ex had clicked this. They had made two copies. She had burnt hers but he hadn't. He carried it around. And here it was in the wallet of Ram Swaroop.

He knew...

He must have known all along.

She put everything back and went  to her refuge in the kitchen. She stayed there. Wondering what she would say and how she would explain.

She heard the chair at the dining table being pulled back. She took a deep breath and came to his side. He was huge, six feet tall, little out of shape, but still huge. His hands were resting on the table either side of the empty plate.
She noticed it right away. Cut marks on his knuckles. He had been in a fight.

What happened to your hands ?

Nothing, just ...got cut. Dinner is ready ??

Hmmm. Ok.

She rushed back into the kitchen. He was not angry. He wasn't asking questions. Her shoulders relaxed as the colour returned to her face.

It wasn't the Gods delivering justice. It was the bespectacled boring laid back Ram Swaroop. He had dug up her past, located the Ex, taken a flight to Shimla and beaten the hell out of him.

He was nothing like she imagined. He was not the old fashioned Chocolate and flowers type man. No No No...he was much more old fashioned than that. He was a testosterone reeking, fist swinging, score settling caveman. Law of the land be damned. To hell with social propriety. If you touch the ones I love, I will hunt you down type old fashioned.

A smile appeared across her face and her eyes lit up.

I haven't got anything ready for dinner. I know this place, that serves excellent Thai. I am sure you will like it. Just give me some time to change. Today your wife is taking you out on a date.

He looked at her bemused as she disappeared  into the bedroom.

She put on her lipstick... looked at herself in the mirror.

She was ready to step out.

She was ready to take on the world.

The Angels be excused, she said to herself. I am married to the ALPHA MALE.

I am Narayani

The poem is about the Supreme Goddess, Shakti, who is power of the Trinity, Brahma Vishnu Mahesh. The Goddess has 108 names, some of which have been used in the poem.

प्रारम्भ हूँ भ्रमांड का 
इसका अंत भी हूँ मैं 
प्रतक्ष्या हूँ, अदृश्य हूँ 
शुन्य से अनंत भी हूँ मैं 

Prarambh hoon brahmand ka

Iska antt bhi hoon main

Pratyaksha hoon, adrishya  hoon

Shunya se anant bhi hoon main

I am the origin of the universe
And I am the end
I am visible all around and invisible too
I am everything from zero to infinity

पवन का वेग हूँ, जल की धारा 
वसुंधरा का हर एक कण हूँ मैं 
भूत हूँ, भविष्य भी 
समय का हर क्षण हूँ मैं 

Pavan ka veg hoon, jal ki dhaara

Vasundhara ka har kann hoon main

Bhuut hoon, bhavishya bhi

Samay ka har kshann hoon main

I am the wind, i am the water
I am every grain of soil
I am the past, i am the present, i am every moment of time

दुर्गा हूँ वैष्णवी भी 
अस्त्र शास्त्र धारिणी हूँ मैं 
चामुण्डा हूँ भद्रकाली भी
महिषासुर घातिनी हूँ मैं
 

Durga hoon, Vaishnavi bhi

Astra Shastra dharini hoon main

Chamunda hoon, Bhadrakaali bhi

Mahishasur ghaatini hoon main

Durga, Vaishnavi....name of the Invincible Goddess
Who carries weapons
Chamunda....slayer of Chand Mund Demons
Slayer of Mahishasur Demon

मातृ पिता के स्नेह से अनिभिज्ञ 
क्यूंकि सर्व श्रिष्टि की जननी मैं 
इसलिए काया पुत्तरी की धारण कर 
भरद्वाज कुल में जनमी मैं
 

Matr Pita ke sneh se anibhigya

Kyunki sarv srishti ki janani main

Isliye kaya puttri ki dharan kar

Bhardwaj kul mein janmi  main

I did not know the love of a mother and father,

 because I created the world and no one created me.
Thats why I was born as a girl in the Bhardwaj clan.

नटखट हूँ चंचल हूँ 
अंगना में गूंजता कोलाहल मैं 
हठ कपट रूठना मनाना 
हर बाल लीला में कुशल मैं
 

Natkhat hoon, chanchal hoon

Angnaa mein goonjta kolahal main

Hath, kapat, roothna manana

Har baal leela mein kushal main

I am mischievous and restless.
The house reverberates with my laughter
Throwing tantrums, feigning, acting upset,
am expert in all that kids do.

पल में कोमल, पल में कठोर 
सतरंगी ममता देख रही मैं 
थक कर पिता के आलिंगन को 
शय्या बनता देख रही मैं
 

Pal mein komal, pal mein kathore

Satrangi mamta dekh rahi main

Thak kar pita ke aalingan ko

Shayya banta dekh rahi main

From doting mother to an angry mother, 

i have seen all colours of mothers affection
I get tired and in a bed made of my fathers embrace,
I fall asleep.

लाडली  हूँ, चहेती हूँ 
पिता के हर स्वास का प्राण हूँ मैं 
प्रतिष्ठा हूँ, सम्मान हूँ
पिता का स्वाभिमान हूँ मैं 

Laadli hoon, chaheti hoon

Pita ke har shwaas ka praan hoon main

Pratishtha hoon, samman hoon

Pita ka swabhimaan hoon main

I am my fathers favourite.
I am the the life in his breath.
I am his self respect

भुजा की ज्वाला हूँ, बलप्रदा हूँ 
पिता का अहंकार हूँ मैं 
भाग्य हूँ लक्ष्मी हूँ 
सुख समृद्धि धन का अम्बार हूँ मैं
 

Bhuja ki jwala hoon, Balprada hoon

Pita ka ahankaar hoon main

Bhagya hoon, Laxmi hoon

Sukh samridhi dhan ka ambaar hoon main

I am the fire in his arms,
i am his strength. ( Balprada....name of Goddess)
I am his pride.
I have written his destiny,
I am the reason for his wealth and happiness

ओढ़नी हूँ लाल चुनार की
अस्मिता की मर्यादा हूँ मैं 
आँखों में बसा काजल हूँ 
माँ के मुख की आभा  मैं
 

Oddhnee hoon laal chunar ki

Asmitaa ki maryada hoon main

Aankhon mein basaa kaajal hoon

Maa ke mukh ki aabhaa hoon main

I am the red colour veil my mother wears ( married woman)

I am the protector of her respect.
I am the beauty in her eyes.
I am the reason her face radiates.

सखी हूँ  सहेली हूँ 
माँ की जीवन पर्यन्त संगिनी हूँ मैं 
अन्नपूर्णा हूँ, शक्ति हूँ 
माँ के चूल्हे की अग्नि भी हूँ मैं 

Sakhi hoon, saheli hoon

Ma ki jeevan paryant sangini hoon main

Annapoorna hoon, shakti hoon,

Ma ke chuleh ki agni hoon main

I am a friend for my mother,
 a companion for her lifetime. 

I am the reason, she is healthy and
I am the fire in the kitchen which feeds our family.

सन्देश भी हूँ मतिहीन समाज को
चाहे जन्मी कन्या रूपिणी हूँ मैं 
स्वयं भ्रह्म विष्णु महेश भी निशक्त मेरे बिना 
क्यूंकि त्रिदेव शक्ति नारायणी हूँ मैं 

Sandesh hoon, matiheen samaj ko

Chahe janmi kanyarupini hoon main

Svayam Brahma Vishnu Mahesh nishakt  mere bina

Kyunki Tridev Shakti Narayani hoon main

I am a message to the ignorant society too.
Though I am born as a girl child.
Do not forget, without me, even Brahma Vishnu Mahesh are powerless.
Because I am the power of God... Narayani.

 

ONE LAST TIME.

A man on bed
       In throes of death
Dying to Survive
       Gasping last breath
Pleading to the Masters
        Oh Pray !!
I ask, my merciful
        One last day

Wasn't alone I realize
         Walking through my life
A companion and friend
         Devoted, dedicated, my wife
Clean home, warm hearth
         Her hands covered in grime
Never thanked, let me now
         Kiss her one last time

So engrossed in work
         Quest fuelled every stride
My children are well fed
         But the childhood cried
Awaits an incomplete sandcastle
        An unheard nursery rhyme
Let me play with them
        O Lord, one last time

Parents acquainted me to the world
        Gave me wings to fly
How can I depart
        Without saying even a goodbye
Sweat blood & sacrifice theirs
         I was the reason prime
Let me in gratitude
          Embrace them one last time

There at the nook
          My best friend stands
Tears in his eyes
          Tremors shaking hands
He has been, in thick and thin
           A partner in every crime
Let me share a joke,
           Laugh with him, one last time

And then a bright light
             A hand shook and awoke me
Good morning, greeted my lovely wife
             I joined hands, prayed to thee
Thank you Lord
              For this last chance
For I shall live
               Live like its for one last time

The Rich and the Abandoned.....

Both the phones rang at the same time. The one on the table, an old fashioned, vintage dial up Graham Bell. The other a sleek touchscreen HTC in my pocket. Which one should I attend first. The boss or the wife.

It was the Commissioner at the other end.
Yes Sir....
Attempted break in.....ok Sir
Leaving right away, Sir
Yes Sir
I will update you from there, Sir.
Well understood, Sir.

It wasn't a big city. Crime rate was low. Petty crimes mostly. An attempted break in at the house of the local Industrialist was a serious issue. Especially because he was a friend of the Commissioner.

I called the constable to bring the jeep out front and wait. I grabbed my walkie Talkie, holstered my .32 and rushed out.

Where to, Sir? The constable asked. He doubled as my driver. A young chap, always on lookout for an adventure.

There has been an attempted break in at the house of Mr. Taneja. That's where we are headed.

Should I switch on the siren ??  He smiled as he asked the question. I just smiled back, which he took for a No. Too many movies, these guys watch. They romanticize the idea of a Cop's job, make it appear larger than life. In reality its  plain dirty and ugly, dealing with the lowest scums of the society, day after day. Who would want to marry a Cop.

Oh, that reminded me. The missed call from Prerna, my other boss.

Hello, dear.

My wife answered. Hi, if you are not too busy, can you take a look at something.
I got a call from my Aunt, Dr Sanyukta. She needs some help from you.

Sure dear, is she coming over ??

No, no. She is at the Old Age home. If you can visit her there.

Old age home?? You abandoned your own aunt. That's so not done. I remarked in jest.

Don't be silly. She does courtesy calls at the Old Age home twice a week. You husbands are incorrigible.

Yes Ma'am, and I disconnected. Now lets see whats up at Mr. Tanejas.

We pulled up outside, what was the biggest house in Town. The Government Primary School building was smaller than this. Neatly manicured lawn, flower pots lining the road, which extended all the way from the gate to the Porch. A BMW 7 series parked outside the garage, probably because there was no space inside. The steps leading up from the porch were carpeted too. And the main door, a massive Oak with a lots of brass decoration attached to it. Wow, its good to be rich.

As I stepped into the massive hall, I saw an agitated Mr. Taneja pacing about. I had seen him a couple of time in the party at the Commissioner's residence. Where he was a guest and I was.....well..... looking after the arrangements.

I was going to introduce myself, but as of now, knowing my name wasn't on his list of priorities. So Inspector, there you are. A voice, clear and resounding, comfortable giving orders, used to having minnows at beck and call.

We had an attempted break-in. What is going on. What's happening to the law and order in this city.

Sir, can I have some details.

Details....The alarm went off at around 04.00am.

What Alarm,Sir.

The intruder alarm, for God's sake. You do know what's an intruder alarm. Its a state of art alarm from a Norwegian Firm. What else do you expect. I can't leave the security of my loved ones at the mercy of local police. Do you ever step out of your police station.

I just kept nodding.......wow, Its good to be rich.

So, like I was saying, I had this intruder alarm installed just yesterday. And the alarm went off at 04.00am. I thought its a false alarm and after a casual look around, I reset it and went back to sleep.
But in the morning, the gardener reported footprints outside the window, the window of the room where my son sleeps.

Somebody tried to break in and Gods be thanked, the intruder alarm saved us.

So, nothing was taken. I remarked.

Nothing was taken!!! He bellowed. Nothing was taken .....I am amazed at your audacity and utter lack of concern.
Are you waiting for something to be taken, before you treat this as a crime. Do you even comprehend the seriousness of what I told you just now.
I run an industry, Inspector. An industry that provides livelihood to hundreds of people. I manufacture and export products.  I contribute to the economy by bringing in foreign exchange. That's how the country progresses.  And its from my money and my taxes, that the Government pays your salary. If I can't sleep peacefully, and I have to stay up all night fearing for the safety of my children.....How the hell do you expect me to go to work.

Wow.......free lessons in Economics, I thought with a straight face.
I will take a quick look around and get back to you.

The Gardener will show you around. He said dismissing me with a wave of hand,

Yes Sir. And off I went.

The foot prints under the window were fresh. Sports shoes. The soil was wet, from previous evenings watering of plants around. The window was slightly open. I could have it dusted for finger prints. I clicked some photographs and headed back to the jeep.

If my constable had seen the reception I got, he would have been shattered. He still thought, Law was supreme and everyone was in awe of the police uniform.
The law just does not apply to the rich.

Where to Sir ?? Back to the station ??

No, lets go to the old age home. We have seen the Rich, now lets see the Abandoned.

The old age home was a few kilometers away. An old British era dilapidated building that an NGO had taken over and were running as the last refuge of poor abandoned souls.  As soon as we arrived, I saw Dr Sanyukta sitting in the lawn examining her patients.

she stood up to greet me as I walked up. So glad, you could come. Please have a seat. I am just about finishing with the last patient. Then I will be free to talk to you.

Dr.Sanyukta, the Doctor, had a persona that had Mother written all over. The smile on her face and her soothing voice were enough to rest at ease any ills you might be suffering. She ran a clinic in the town and did house visits. I wonder if the NGO paid her anything. Knowing her nature, they might have narrated the plight of the elderly inmates and she would have readily agreed to work for free.

There, I am free now. She said putting away her stethoscope into her bag.
Prerna talks about you all the time. I always wondered how you go about solving the crimes. It must be so interesting. And that uniform of yours exuding power, it must feel good to be a Cop.

Like I said, her voice, the soothing voice, healed my wounded pride, the wounds from the Hostile reception at Mr. Taneja's house.

Well, its a job like any other. I tried to downplay my importance against my own free will.

No, I find it very interesting, she carried on. How do you go about collecting and analysing evidence and finally catch the criminals.

Well its just that we are trained. Trained to ignore the obvious, look for the the unseen, we connect the dots and sometimes we get lucky. I tried to put it in simple terms.

Oh that's so well put. Well the reason I asked for your help is, regarding my patient here, an elderly Gentleman, everyone calls Bapuji. He was the fittest of the lot. While rest of the people here do some mild form of exercise, he was a regular. He cycled everyday. Today I found he had low BP and running high fever.

How can I help you with that. I asked.

Thats what I am coming to. She continued. His illness is more psychological than physical. You see, he is in depression because his cycle has been stolen.

Oh ! Thats all. This was a non issue. My mind already back to Taneja Case.

She probably read my mind. You see, its a small matter, if I file a complaint, it wont be taken very seriously. Its just a cycle and he is a nobody. But it was his most prized possession here. He used to cycle everyday early in the morning. If you could help me out with this one, I will be ever so grateful. I wish we had a watchman here, to look after these things and help around with small errands.

Don't you worry. I will see what I can do. I took the description of the cycle and walked towards my jeep.

As soon as we drove out of the Old Age home, I dialled my Police Station.
Tell all the beat constables to report to me if they come across any street urchin or smack addicts riding around on a red hercules bicycle.

We had driven for 5 minutes only when my walkie talkie buzzed.

Sir, Beat Constable Ram Yadav reporting. Over.

Yes Ram Yadav, go ahead, over.

Sir, today early morning during patrolling on temple road, I saw Raju the local history sheeter with a red cycle. Over.

Ok Noted. Ram Yadav. That will be all. Over and out.

How many cycles are there in the city? I asked my driver.

May be in Lakhs, Sir.

How many Red in colour?

Maybe in thousands, Sir?

How many out early in the morning ?

Very few Sir.

And how many out in the morning with a history sheeter on top??

May be the one, we are looking for, Sir.

And So you see Doctor Sanyukta,  we sometimes  just get lucky.

"Driver, temple road, lane no 3". At least one thing taken care of.

The lanes were narrow. I had to leave the jeep on the road and walk the rest of the way. People I crossed on the way, would avoid looking at me, stop and stutter, or just change directions. Its amusing at times.

As I stepped into the doorway of Raju's house, he got up with a start.
I was going to call you Sir. I didn't do it. I swear on my mother, Sir. I promised, Sir I will change for the better. I am trying, Sir. Believe me, Sir.

When a guy is giving up information at that rate. You just don't interrupt him. I let him continue.

I went looking for a job to the other town. But nobody hired me. I got tired and arrived back today in the morning. Here is my bus ticket. You can check with the Conductor also.

So, Raju, the Bus Conductor gave you the cycle to ride home. Ahaan

No Sir. I was walking back from the bus stand. I was passing by the big house and suddenly loud alarms went off. I got scared. You know, I have a past record. I thought I would get blamed for whatever happened. Then I saw a man running towards me. I panicked, Sir. I saw the cycle standing near the entrance, so I picked it up and ran.

This was interesting. Like I said, never interrupt.

So you picked up the cycle from outside the big house. And who was coming to catch you.

I dont know Sir, it was dark, I couldnt see clearly.

And so you see Doctor Sanyukta, sometimes we see the unseen and just connect the dots. I was smiling as I turned to leave.

Raju followed me out. Am I in trouble Sir.

No Raju, not right now. Return the cycle to the Old Age home and report for work there everyday. If I get any complaints about you, then, and only then, you will be in big trouble.

He stood there unable to understand how the clock had turned a full circle in a few moments.

I wasn't interested in his expression. I had a bigger fish to fry.

I got into the jeep, told my driver constable. To the House of Mr. Taneja as fast as you can. And yes, you can switch on the siren.

As we neared the house, I asked him to switch off the siren. He had had his thrill. Now it was time to get mine. I walked up the same carpeted steps and entered the hall. The society's Rich and Famous ladies had descended on Mr. Taneja's house. The creme de la creme.

This is going to be fun. I will just stand and watch.

The red one is almost having a heart attack, Oh Mrs. Taneja, I was so shocked. I cancelled my beautician's appointment and rushed over.

The green one went, Can't imagine what would have happened, if the intruder had got in.

The Pink one, I will tell my husband to install the same alarm system. You just text me the name.

The blue one, I can imagine how scared you must be. I know what a caring mother you are. Right outside your son's window........ Oh thank God, you all are safe

"You are back early, Inspector. Something you forgot" said the spoil sport Mr. Taneja

My turn....

Well Mr. Taneja, I am pleased to inform you that we have identified the intruder and will arrest him shortly.
We will be charging him under Indian Penal Code sections
441 for Criminal trespass
442  for House trespass
444 for Lurking house, trespass by night
446  for House-breaking by night
The old man will argue in his defence that he cycles everyday from the old age home to your house to catch a glimpse of his grandson, and he didn't know about the new alarm system. But the law is the law. He must be made to understand, if you cannot sleep, the Country cannot PROGRESSSSS.

Have you seen six butterflies with painted mouths stop fluttering all at once.

Or, have you seen a Man's face turn a shade more red than his wife's lipstick.

I just did.

And I did absolutely nothing to wipe the smirk off my face. Hope now you will sleep well. Mr.Taneja, I said as I walked out.

As I got into my jeep, I called my boss, ....the other one.

Hi Prerna. Justice is served. I am on my way home.