Chapter 6

Nitya slipped on a pair of jeans and T-shirt quickly and taking her wallet and a bunch of keys she rushed outside. She began to palpitate even as the auto crackled on the potholed road. She had requested the driver to take the shortcut through a ‘basti’ that would save 15 minutes that a walk took but the road was rough. She was unmindful of the driver swearing at the stray dogs, and a few stray people not bothering to give way to vehicles on the road.

Despite all her bravado, Nitya was a weakling when it came to Naman. Was he alright?

Mr. Sandhu knew everything about Nama’s condition and had taken efforts to read up and speak with Nitya regularly to understand Naman. He took care to see no one bullied Naman and Naman stayed away from people on his own accord so there was no way he would get into a fight.

Was there any accident?

She had always been frugal to save money for Naman and her mother’s treatments and pay for Naman’s classes and therapies. But at that moment as the auto sauntered ahead, she felt guilty… She should have splurged on Naman… whatever she could afford. Give him his favourite black forest pastry more often…. She aggressively wiped away the stray tear that escaped her eye despite her firm resolve not to break down.

Naman, didi is reaching soon… just hang in there, bhai.

Nitya barely took in a breath as she rushed to the floor of the enormous commercial building housing the computer class. As she approached the wing, she saw a crowd had gathered outside. There was some banging noise and she immediately knew it was Naman… given the pattern of banging. He was obsessed with rhythms….

She rushed separating the crowd.

Her heart stopped with the scene before her. Naman lay on the floor beside the overturned desks, banging on one of them with his mouse. His laptop lay next to him as he hugged it… there was a bruise on his head and he was crying. He was muttering something under his breath like a mantra… But that’s how he usually spoke, whenever he did. His speech was not clear and was in a singsong pattern. And… his shirt’s top button was put. This was bad… he couldn’t put on his buttons and couldn’t tolerate the top button shut. She had taken care every time. Was he bullied? Did someone button him up there?

But that wouldn’t have caused such a huge meltdown…

She had to know what triggered his meltdown, for the first time in public after years. But she had to calm him down first. She sat next to him and tentatively placed a hand on his back.

“Naman… sweetie… look, didi is here. Let’s go home, shall we?” she spoke softly.

Naman stopped what he was doing and turned towards her. The very next instant he hugged her and began to bawl. Nitya heard murmurs where people called him ‘pagal’ and giggles around but she was used to such humiliating and insensitive public reactions.

Ignoring them, Nitya patted him on the back just the way he liked, to calm him down and in the next instant he was quiet.  She immediately unbuttoned his collar, and Naman sighed and sat straight next to her.

Mr. Sandhu dispersed the crowd and walked in with a first aid box while his men upturned the fallen desks.

As Nitya dressed Naman’s wounds she asked Mr. Sandhu. “What happened… why did Naman do this? You know he doesn’t react like this in public… never done for a long and he loves this place…” her anxiety was choking her up.

“I am sorry Nitya…” Mr.Sandhu sighed. “…I forgot to tell you. A few days ago, a day after your mother passed, I saw a man trying to talk to Naman while he exited the building. As you had requested, I was keeping a watch. But Naman ignored the man and went ahead. The man didn’t follow him. This happened the next day as well… but the man wasn’t seen for a while. It slipped my mind totally. Then today I got late to class and as I approached the wing, I saw that man had called Naman out and was talking to him holding his shoulders… before I could get closer, Naman pushed him and …reacted the way he did. The other students were terrified and rushed out of the class and the man disappeared in the chaos…”

“Who… who was the man… any idea?” Nitya’s heart began to pound. Who must have found them after so many years?

Did someone from the past find out who Naman was? Rather, who his father was? What would she do now? How much more did they have to pay for being their father’s children?

“I don’t know him, nor did any student identify him…” Mr. Sandhu replied. “…Some said, he first buttoned Naman’s collar… but wait… the exit CCTV captured him. The image is grainy, but maybe it can help…”

She nodded and after helping Naman who had got back to his laptop with a vengeance, to sit on one of the desks, she walked with Mr. Sandhu to the office.

The plush office had a strategically placed monitor with the camera feeds. Sandhu typed in something and turned the monitor towards her.

The man had worn a cap and his face wasn’t clear at all.

But his body language was a giveaway and particularly seeing Naman’s reaction to the man, she instantly knew.

It was Sajid. What was he doing here?

“Was he the same guy who had spoken to Naman earlier as well?” She asked Mr. Sandhu.

“Yes, Nitya. I am sure, it was him. Do you know him? Should we report this… I mean, in the police station?” Mr. Sandhu sounded sceptical, and Nitya knew he wouldn’t want any negative publicity for his classes. But Nitya didn’t want attention towards them either.

“No Sandhu ji… I don’t know him. Must have been a mistaken identity… Naman must have … ov… overreacted.”

She returned home with Naman on autopilot even as she served him lunch. She checked her phone for the nth time. Sajid hadn’t replied to her message. But her break-up message was much after her mother passed… what was Sajid trying to do?

As Naman went back to his desk to get back to whatever he did usually, she sat on the lone bed in the hall. Her mother lay on it ever since they moved here and had eventually become a permanent fixture along with the bed, till she passed.

Nitya shook her head as if driving away painful thoughts as she thought about the first time, she had met Sajid.

Five years ago, she was a body double for a popular actress for an action scene. The shooting was in Film City, Goregaon, and the travel from Bhandup where she now lived, often tired her out. However, because of her vigorous workout regime, she had great stamina and shot the scenes with elegance throughout. However, that particular shot was extremely complicated and despite innumerable retakes, Nitya wasn’t able to execute it and eventually had bruises all over her arms and legs because of the harness that pulled at them. She was attended to by the on-site doctor and given painkillers. But unlike the actors she didn’t have the luxury of a vanity van and waited in the shade for the shooting to resume.

Nitya was feeling giddy and just that morning she had an argument with her mother who wasn’t answering her calls. Her mother was barely coherent these days and she was more worried for Naman, since her mother was his caregiver when she was away at work. He was manageable but if he had a meltdown triggered by something new then her mother would have a tough time and may just give up. The stress was taking its toll and she was on the verge of a breakdown.

It was then Sajid had come as a God-sent. He was the new technological unit assistant for the production house and was on on-site duty that day. He brought her a glass of Glucon D and also an umbrella which he held for her as she sat on the cloth recliner chair, he had arranged.

They got talking and after the shoot that day which was eventually moved by a couple of days to give Nitya the needed time to recover, Sajid dropped her home. He stayed somewhere in Goregaon but rode his bike all the way to drop her. Nitya was usually a reserved person always aloof given her past, but that day she was too tired and stressed to refuse him.

After that, he was often seen during her shoots whenever the production house called her, till the movie got over. Sajid would take care of her like he did most of the junior artists on the set and Nitya was impressed. She had been in the industry for a while and no one cared about her ilk.

After that, one day, after a month Sajid called her.

“Hey Nitya… Sajid this side.”

“How… how did you get this number?” Nitya wondered since she rarely shared her number with anyone.

“The production house has your details, remember?”

Nitya wondered why she was being so paranoid… but that’s what life had taught her.

“Oh..ok. So, what’s it Sajid?” Nitya came straight to the point. She didn’t know any other way.

“Uh Nitya… I left that production house and have started my firm… different production houses outsource their technical requirements to me….”

“Wow, Sajid. That’s awesome news. But it must have needed a lot of investment. The instruments are so expensive.”

“What are loans for?” Sajid quipped and Nitya was surprised by the ease at which Sajid spoke about loans. There was not an iota of worry in his voice.

“Ok then… bye.” Nitya had to rush.

“Wait Nitya…”

“Um… what is it Sajid?”

“Can we meet?”

Her guard was up as soon as he spoke those words.

“Why Sajid, you know I am busy and…” Nitya tried to put him off.

“Wait for a second Nitya, I won’t pressurize you but I wanted to talk to you about work. You can help me since you are from the industry in a way.”

“I am just a body double and know nothing about technology or computers for that matter…” It was true and Nitya often wondered if she was her parents’ daughter who were computer experts… her father was a genius till everything fell apart…

“Nitya… let’s meet just once. Please… your decided place and time?” Sajid pleaded and Nitya didn’t have the heart to refuse him given the help he had showered upon her during the shoot.

“Ok, Sajid. I shall text you the location and time…” Nitya had relented.

What began as a simple work-related meet resulted in many more meets where Sajid got her work offers and good pay as well. Nitya wasn’t complaining and she reduced the working hours at the gym taking up only select personal training accounts. It worked well because she was able to focus on Naman and her mother who had by now taken to bed after being heavily sedated.

She barely shared personal details with Sajid. He only knew her father had passed years ago and her mother was suffering from mental health issues. She hadn’t revealed much about Naman’s issues. Now that she thought about it, Nitya felt she barely met Sajid in the last 3 years. She tried to recall how much she had mentioned about Naman’s condition because she had brought him home once when Kamble Kaka was around and no one liked him. But the worst was Naman hated him. That was strange so she actively refrained from mentioning Naman whenever they spoke or met. In fact, it now dawned on her that she had reduced their meetings because of Naman.

Nitya began to pace the tiny confines of the room, thinking hard about what she had ever mentioned about Naman to Sajid. It then struck her like a thunderbolt.

Naman had a huge meltdown once when she was at her shoot and Sajid had dropped her off at the doctor’s clinic where Kamble kaka had taken him. Sajid too had rushed inside and she had immediately reacted seeing Naman’s collar button tightened. She had struggled to calm a flailing Naman and eventually had to pluck the button off.

Sajid would have known for sure. But why did he have to do this…? Why did he visit Naman in the first place? Nitya couldn’t point her finger at the cause as yet. What was she missing?

A headache made its feeble presence felt, and she rushed to the kitchen to make tea.

She checked in on Naman as the tea was boiling. The day’s excitement must have tired him out. She had given him the additional dosage of his meds so with the cumulative effect of the two, the boy was asleep on his bed, curled up in fetal position. His glasses were still on him and he had hugged his laptop. The laptop was falling apart and it was a crude second-hand one she could afford at that time, but he loved it more than anything else… No… it was in second position. On the first was that machine, or whatever it was that her late father had gifted.

Innocence stared at her from his sleeping face and she instantly teared up. The sense of being betrayed wasn’t new to her, but this time her brother was involved. The guy couldn’t fight back and yet… No this was not done. Sajid had to answer for his deeds. Was he that upset at his proposal being rejected? She had barely been seeing him for crying out loud… she hadn’t committed or promised him anything.

There was only one way to get answers. She had to meet Sajid in person. She straightened as she sipped the hot tea almost scalding her tongue. Her confidence was back… the tigress in her was striving to be let free. That was Nitya when her protective instincts were up. Whether it was years ago in that forest even though Maanav was older and stronger and knew what he was doing… or now when she had to protect her brother though he didn’t even know what was going on.

She knew Naman would sleep for the next 3 hours or so. She kept his food ready and texted Kamble kaka. He replied that he would be there in 15 minutes.

She realized it was time she faced demons instead of hiding from them….

©priyanayakgole

(Disclaimer: This is a piece of fiction using the backdrop of the attack that happened and any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. This doesn’t attempt to change history or facts.)

Chapter 5

Nitya sighed as she looked around the excuse of a house. Her life at the moment felt as fragile as a pack of cards. It was on tenterhooks and she was hanging by a fragile thread of hope. Hope that things will turn out well…. For Naman’s sake. She always had that lingering hope whenever things went downhill or whenever her mother had her depressive attacks…. because Naman had been doing well in the computer academy. The owner, Mr. Sandhu was a kind-hearted man who helped Naman settle into the chaotic structure and he was the one who recently told her about Naman’s exclusive hacking abilities.

Nitya often wondered what was cooking up in her brother’s complex brain. She always knew he was wired differently than the rest of them, but what was brewing in there as he sat huddled in front of that machine developed by their father?

Was he building a program? For what? And this ‘Hacking’ ability both made her feel happy and scared. How could she handle this? And what on earth was her brother … hacking? She knew her father was a genius in the field and her brother would have probably inherited the traits, but given his volatile state of mind, would he be able to handle it all? She wished she could communicate this with her brother.

Mr. Sandhu had given Naman an opportunity to develop programs for the classes. Because of the common passion between them, somehow the man was able to communicate with Naman. There was name calling and other students often passed snide remarks, but Naman never bothered anyway. He went on his rituals like clockwork.

Nitya smiled; her lips wobbly as she choked up with emotion. How much she loved her brother… he was more like a son to her. She instantly knew her decision to break up with Sajid was a good one. Speaking of which, she checked her phone. Sajid had seen her text but had not replied. He must have been upset at the abrupt end to their relationship, or whatever remained of it. But nothing was abrupt… was it? There was nothing there in the first place. No passion, no love… she barely knew the guy. She didn’t know anything about his family; now that she thought about it, she hadn’t bothered to ask Sajid. She was never curious…

Nitya chuckled at the ridiculous stream of events…. How could she be in a relationship with a guy whom she didn’t know?

For that matter, her parents seemed like strangers too. Her attention went back to the bag and she decided to keep it locked away for a while. She couldn’t get herself to throw away her mother’s stuff. Then there were those letters… her mother must have hidden them away for a reason. But her mother wasn’t herself for many years now.

I am sorry Amma but I must read these… appa’s last and only memories…

The envelopes that were white at some points of time were now yellowed and spotty. They were crumbled as well. She carefully picked them. They were disintegrating and she carefully took them apart. Appa definitely wrote it; the written ink was smudged, but it was addressed to her mother. He had tiny handwriting but wrote very neatly and despite the spread of ink; it was neat.

She placed the pieces of the first letter on the carpet and strained to read in the dim light. Somehow, the sun had decided to hide behind the clouds for today and the area was plunged into darkness. The flickering tubelight wasn’t enough for her, but at the moment the surge of emotions overshadowed everything else.

Dated: 29/11/05

Dear Prema

I hope you are all doing fine. I am doing good here. I think the money must have reached you. In our last call, you mentioned Nitya had a fever. I hope she is fine now. I don’t want to send emails because they get tracked hence the letters. Don’t worry… nothing is amiss. It’s just that this is a high-security premises so they take extra care.

I will call you soon… whenever I get the opportunity.

Love to Nitya and Naman.

Yours,

Parikshit

Nitya remembered this was the time when her father had been gone to Yemen for a few months. This was probably his first letter. She had never gotten to speak with him if and when he had called.

She spread the second letter. The date was faded off totally but she could make out it was in 2007.

Dear Prema

Why didn’t you speak with me over the phone? Do you know how tough it is to get a hand on a phone here? And what is this about moving homes? Don’t do that… how will I be in touch with you? I miss you all so much… particularly Nitya and Naman. Naman still doesn’t speak, does he? I couldn’t wire the money like I did earlier but I am saving it all somewhere. Don’t worry. It will reach you soon. You can use those FDs meanwhile. It’s just a matter of a few months.

Please don’t shift… please Prema. You don’t know what I am going through here….

But all will be fine… We will meet soon.

Yours,

Parikshit.

Nitya sat slumped on the floor wondering what was going on… she didn’t know anything that had transpired between her parents at that time. What happened to Appa? What was going on in his company?

Another letter was completely crumpled and addressed to her mother. The date was unclear.

Prema

Its… bad here. Things are going downhill. I should have listened to Colonel Deshmukh and most of all I should have listened to you. I messed it all up… I am in deep trouble and I hope this doesn’t affect you. I have started working on rectifying my mistakes. Please forgive me, Prema. I haven’t been a good husband… but trust me, I tried. I am still trying…

I don’t know when I can write more. But please trust me…

Only Yours,

Parikshit.

Nitya’s heart was pounding as if it were racing a marathon and wanted to win. There was a final letter. It was relatively neat and unopened. And it was addressed to wait… it was for her.

Her hands were trembling as she opened it.

Dated: 29/10/2008

Nitya,

I don’t know when this will reach you… I am sending this… secret channels. It’s not… well here… I can’t help it, child… Sorry for everything… You must save all… Take help. Read carefully….

Qui totum vult totum perdit

De omnibus dubitandum

Factum fieri infectum non potes

Pisces lethale in aquis profundis

dona felis summis

missio non perficitur

circulorum ut nec in aquis usque

Here lies it all….

Please do… Get the gift-circle completed…

Love

Appa

She held a hand to her chest to stop the pounding. What was all this? What language was this? Nothing made sense to her. Her father spoke many languages and that was a unique ability he possessed. His flair for languages got him side jobs for translations till he was established in the field. But what did he want to share with her… he was definitely in trouble.

And why had amma not given this to her. What exactly had happened? Her heart quickened its pace again… Appa was wronged for sure. Her gut feeling was right. Appa wasn’t involved in anything… There was no way to get any information now… the case was closed. The perps were apparently apprehended even across the border. India had executed the man caught… But what about justice for her Appa and the ruin their family faced?

Where could she find information? Would Kamble kaka know something? There was no one else to ask. What did Appa mean by ‘take help’…. What did he want to convey over 15 years ago?

Her headache intensified as if someone was running a road roller inside. The adrenaline rush at the moment was identical to the one she faced years ago when her best friend betrayed her… in those woods in Himachal.

She sat down with a thud holding the letter close to her heart. Tears streamed down her cheeks even as she remembered that day crystal clear. It seemed like it was the beginning of her agonising period…

They had run through the forest, all of a sudden. Maanav had apparently sensed something. But what? He had held her hand so she had felt secure. Initially, she thought it was a part of the camp challenge, but later as Maanav held her hands behind the tree she realised something was truly amiss. Maanav tried to hide from her but she knew it all… She was strong and tried her best to support him.

Once behind that tree, he had promised to get back. But as she waited with her heart thudding loud enough for her to hear it, there was a blast… she wasn’t sure what happened but she had fallen on her back. There was chaos and fire a little away from where she was hidden. She was too stunned to cry and was suddenly worried about Maanav. Did something happen to him?… No … no… she didn’t realise it until it stung. Her leg…a burning branch had fallen on her leg… She kicked it away but the pain was terrible. Yet she worried about finding Maanav. But as she stood, a wave of nausea took over and there was someone who held her as she fell. She didn’t know anything except that it was a man… a strong man.

“Don’t worry, beta. You are safe…” the gruff voice had said and just before she lost consciousness she saw something hazy at a distance in the smoky inferno. Two people hanging from a helicopter… wait… was that, Maanav? Did someone kidnap him…?

The cooker whistle brought Nitya back from her memory lane. She wiped her tears and reflexly touched her leg where the scar still existed, a reminder of the time when Maanav left her alone. She was surprised that she wasn’t angry with Maanav anymore… But maybe it had to do with the passage of time. Or maybe because of her life struggles she had no time to think about it… she no longer resented him per se… Just the situation.

She had found that Maanav was saved as well…  Someone from the army had saved her then, but she only remembered the informer’s voice because by the time she came to her senses in the hospital, he was gone. He was the same man who had saved her.

Maanav didn’t betray her, did he? Somewhere in the passage of time she probably realised he had tried to save her hide. She was slowing them down that day and if he had taken her along, they both could have been killed…He was barely a teenager after all… But what happened at that time? Who were the enemy?

She sighed wondering if she would ever get answers. Over the years, she had tried to search Maanav on social media whenever she could. But there was no one closely resembling him… To her surprise, she always hoped and prayed that he was fine… wherever he was. Whenever she was in turmoil all these years, she often thought about him. She never had a friend like him… in fact, given her situation, she never had friends at all. But she was sure, despite everything if Maanav was around, he would always be her friend.

She dragged herself to the kitchen and checked in on the menu for the day. She had gone overboard today, getting Nama’s favourite food ready. He wasn’t choosy but liked some specific foods stuff more than others. Shutting off the gas burner she looked around at the tiny cubicle she called the kitchen… the black soot and grime covering the walls for ages hadn’t been cleaned at all… Naman couldn’t stand the strong smells of the cleaning agents. She also never had the time from multiple jobs to get food on the table and take care of her mother’s and Naman’s expenses.

I swear to God… Naman… I shall make things better. We will move out for sure… She resolved to work harder and get a decent abode for them.

She realised she had gripped the letter tightly and walked back to the old bag. She kept all the letters and the album with her and decided to give away the bag soon. She kept the letter for her separately in her accounts diary in the cupboard.

As she freshened and tidied Naman’s study, she realised it was past Naman’s regular hours. Where was he?

Worry gnawed at her insides.

Suddenly her phone buzzed startling her. It was Mr. Sandhu… he never called her, only texted. But why was he calling today?

Worried she answered the call.

“Nitya you should come here ASAP…” Mr. Sandhu’s worried voice was cracking up in the commotion in his background.

“What happened Sandhu ji? Is Naman alright…?”  Oh God please keep him safe…

“…Just… just come Nitya… and soon…” Mr. Sandhu disconnected.

If she thought her heart had been racing to its peak level, she couldn’t have been more wrong.

Oh God…. please…please… Naman be alright, bhai…. Were her thoughts as she clutched at her heart and stumbled outside the house.

©priyanayakgole

(Disclaimer: This is a piece of fiction using the backdrop of the attack that happened and any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. This doesn’t attempt to change history or facts.)

In the frigid expanse of Siachen, where temperatures plummet to a bone-chilling -50°C amid relentless blizzards, 2 men struggled to maintain their forté. The high-altitude glacier’s fierce winds howled through the icy landscape, testing their resolve in a realm of perpetual winter.

They had exhausted their physical energy long back. Muscles were barely aware of each foot as it placed itself ahead, making its imprint on snow and their lungs seemed to have a mind of their own. Sticking their ice picks on the unfathomable mountainous terrain, they hauled themselves up. They searched for crevices to stick in their gloved hands to get a hold… and to fix their pitons. Their spindled climbing ropes ran through the pitons, holding them precariously as they fought gravity. The Indian Army soldiers were on the other side, but these two were not a part of them, and yet they were.

Maanav ‘Bullet’ Deshmukh wheezed in a breath and looked at the point they could relax their unfeeling muscles before their next accent. At the same time, they had to camouflage themselves, blend in the pristine glow of the white gold spread before them. The Army was official… they weren’t. He felt lifeless even as the tabletop of the range was in sight. Besides him, his best friend for years, Avinash ‘Razor’ Thakur rasped in a breath and he could hear it when the slight blizzard took a respite.

He knew irrespective of the outcome of their clandestine mission, if things went down south, Avinash would have his back. The government would disregard them and leave them to rot, but his close friends wouldn’t. Even at this point his other close friends Shiv ‘Shadow’ Chouhan and Avinash’s twin Anandi ‘Lolita’ Thakur were watching their backs secretly. Shiv had launched the Special Protection Services (SPS) a while ago. It was a front for bodyguard services but in reality, it dealt with operations that couldn’t get any sanctions and even the other covert organisations like RAW couldn’t tackle because of bureaucratic hassles.

While Maanav and Avinash were still employed with a special ops group, a secret branch of the Indian Army, Shiv had invited them over to join him. Anandi had already done so and Avinash was considering as well. The four had been best friends since the days of ‘Sainik Shala’ a gurukul that taught them a lot besides academics. Another common factor was their family background which left a lot to desire. They all came from broken homes, so probably that was the first factor to blend together.

Maanav’s foot suddenly skidded on a patch of snow and he veered precariously. Avinash was there in the next instant and stabilised him. Maanav watched his hot vapourised breath freeze in faster than his next inhalation! He couldn’t afford to lose focus even due to fatigue… their mission would be compromised and the life that was dependent on the duo would be snuffed out in an instant. In usual circumstances, Avinash would have given him an earful but he knew they had to save every ounce of energy to complete the climb.  The only sound he heard as they continued the last stage of their climb was the soft clink of the metal on rock and their heavy breathing.

The morning Sun was climbing out of the deep snow-well but still the cold was brutal and killing.

They finally made it to the rest zone and lay on the white snow, undeterred by the cold seeping in through their thick overalls. Their bodies were numb after two hours of excruciating climb that began before dawn. But the only feeling they had was of their will… the will to succeed despite unending tiredness, their heart bursting with pride… They saw a neighbouring peak scaled by the Army and re-conquered years ago and the proud tricolour fluttering away to glory.

Maanav sat up and sighed. This particular peak was a no man’s land and that’s where the special ops group came in. The Army had pledged support but there was little they could do since they had no jurisdiction. Maanav recalled the case they had to memorise. There was nothing on them that could give away their identities. Right from unregistered firearms to no walkie talkies. But unknown to their handlers they had transmitters on them courtesy of Shiv. These were high-end and only Shiv had their coordinates.

The task at hand was such. The home minister’s niece was kidnapped and was currently on the other side of the border. Intelligence had found out her location to be near Skardu located in the Gilgit-Baltistan region of Pakistan and serves as a logistical and administrative hub for the area. The problem was the Home Minister, a confirmed bachelor had a problem with revealing the incident to the world. Maanv through Shiv had found that the niece was actually the man’s illegitimate daughter brought up by his reluctant sister. The girl barely out of her teens was wayward and doped all the time. She probably had no clue where she was or what had happened to her… or that there were men risking their lives to save her.

Maanav knew it better than to question the logic in this case. Politicians all had skeletons in their closets and they preferred to keep those cupboards closed all the time. Maanav cared a damn… his father was an Army man to the core and beyond and he knew the nuances better than anyone. But at the moment it was upto Avinash and him and the girl’s life depended on their quick thinking.

Avinash signalled that it was time to leave. He had the feeling of urination threatening to burst his bladder but knew it was futile… the urine would freeze before it hit the snow and give him a literal case of blue balls! That would be the end of them.

He chuckled at the thought and they began their downward climb on the other side… they would soon reach the neighbouring country and they had to hide themselves from prying eyes and drones. The neighbouring country had people struggling with poverty and extreme inflation but they had all the money in their coffers for technological advancement in warfare that they used anyway but judiciously.

This climb down was more challenging than the climb up. Besides being under the enemy’s radar directly, the mountain was extremely rocky and steep. Avinash was the expert in the area and strong and they had decided to do it in one go. Avinash signalled again with his hand and the duo began their descent. A few minutes of rapid climb down passed uneventfully. Maanv felt something amiss… Avinash too probably as he halted and looked at Maanav through the anti-fogging goggles. He didn’t have to see Avinash’s face to know what the guy was thinking. The 4 of them were attuned to each other so well.

Suddenly he heard something zoom past him and chip off the ice next to him. And another right next… Gosh they were being shot at. Their cover was blown. Their overalls were bulletproof but there was only so much they could sustain. Avinash signalled and they moved on a side and hid behind the jutting ice rock. The bullets were still coming in.

They had to wait it out but that meant spending more time in depleting oxygen and depleting energy reserves as well. They had only a royal meal of Maggi noodles and chicken broth an hour before they began their climb that morning and were famished by then.

Maanav had to make the decision. The ground rule of covert operations involved low casualties since they couldn’t call for attention. But now they didn’t have a choice. Maanav was the expert here and as if hearing his thoughts Avinash nodded in agreement. Maanav took position even as Avinash gave him the needed footing. Their ropes couldn’t take much load and if the bullets hit them continuously, the ropes would eventually give away and the two would fall to their deaths.

Maanav aimed the Sako TRG 42, the high-end sniper rifle he had customised to lighten the weight for his climb. He stuck the nozzle though the gap in the rock and tried to look through the eye piece. Bingo… he found the morons. They were 4 and were hiding behind barracks… how typical of the enemy! They always attacked in stealth.

So stealth it was… he wasn’t called ‘bullet’ just in the name. He took aim and in the next minute all 4 were felled. He saw the commotion as the enemy troopers scampered to their fallen brethren. He used the chaos to shoot a few more and changed his footing and direction in the process to help the bullets ricochet and hit the enemy from unexpected quarters. The enemy only kept guessing from where the shots were fired. The men soon retreated probably to get reinforcement and this was the opening the duo need.

Avinash and Maanav resumed the drop and without any problem they managed the rest of the feat.

The ground level now posed a new challenge.  The place was barren and rocky and probably landmine infested as well…

They had to be extra careful. Avinash took out a device used to find out if there were any active IEDs so they didn’t get blown up before their mission got over. Thank fully there were none and slowly they made their way to a hut hidden amidst a cluster of other huts, they were local tribals.

One of them was their contact point in the enemy land. These missions needed help from some  local person for their ultimate success. The old man whom they knew as chachajaan served them hot kahwa and broth. They were famished and wolfed them hurriedly. Maanav didn’t know the true identity of chachajaan but their higherups had their research in place and every terrain had some helper. It wasn’t Maanv’s place to find out these details.

Chachajaan gave them local outfits that had seen better days. But to go in a disguise they had to look as authentic as possible.

A while later two ‘older’ men with sticks made their way out of the settlement. They wore ragged long tunics with black Shalwars and a heavy wooden cloak they wore was great to conceal the arms they hid beneath. They covered their heads with thick skull caps and beneath there was a long rag covering their face from the frequent blizzards. Herding yaks would have called for attention given how poor the region was. So they chose sheep… the unsheared animals were easy to conceal what they wanted to.

They gradually made their way to run an errand… directly to the wolf’s lair. The settlement always provided the troops with food and other essential requirements so they were loyal to their army because of the business they brought in. However some of them like chachajaan liked more moolah… They could not be trusted and if someone looked into the hut they would find chachajaan missing and a few days later, his decomposing body under the floor of the hut.

Maanav and Avinash treaded along and finally reached a two storeyed heavily guarded building. The place was a fortress and surrounded by barracks were the troops stood guarding the place. There was no other building for miles around the acrid area.

Maanav addressed the man at the outer barrack in Urdu infused with the Balti language. His line of work needed him to blend and language and dialects played a major role in hiding his cover. The man nodded and spoke on the walkie talkie to his comrades and soon a couple of them came up… they touched the two of them to check for hidden weapons and Maanav and Avinash had been prepared. They only had milk jars strapped to the three sheep as far as those soldiers were concerned.

Right then Maanav pressed a button strapped beneath the skull cap and the tiny devices they had dropped along their way to this place began to explode sending the clouds of dust all around. The due joined the screaming and fell on the floor pretending to be scared for their lives. Meanwhile they took out their arms hidden in the wool beneath the sheep belly that these morons hadn’t checked. After all the sheep from the settlement were marked for recognition.

Maanav used this chaos to shoot the nearest men and in the cloudy confusion, the others scrambled for safety trying to look out from where the attack was happening. Avinash nodded to Maanav and he crouched towards the building. The timed devices were blowing up and confusion prevailed. Avinash launched a grenade on the other side and the confusion only snowballed into ballistic shooting. Avinash ducked under a bunker and waited… there was no point in fighting so many people together. He had to wait for the opportunity and as per their calculations the rangers would be there in the next 10 mins. They had that much time to bring out the girl.

Maanav was inside walking in the shadows and stood silent watching the confusion play out. He was on the second storey and held his tiny pistol the only one he had managed to carry upstairs. As expected Avinash had created enough distraction and the men from the building were downstairs trying to secure the perimeter till reinforcement arrived. This was the time gap he had… He peeped into one of the two rooms and saw his target… the young girl was gagged and tied up and lay slumped on the chair. Oh hell… this was going to be tough, carrying dead weight. He had no choice but to put plan B in action. It would cost him his job but he had to get this job done… save the girl. He looked around for a communication device and found a crude one. He pressed in the special codes and then a few more to scramble them across channels… and waited. Shiv would have received the coordinates now and a waiting helicopter would be there in 5 min. He just hoped the time window would work out.

He walked in slowly and untied the girl. She was dead weight and he laboured to carry her in a fireman’s carry across the balcony crouching all the way to avoid detection. He was panting heavily because of the cloth covering his face to conceal his disguise and there was no body part that wasn’t aching or getting numb with cold… Would he survive this? There was a buzz and then a roar and he knew the helicopter was close. Would Avinash make it? He didn’t doubt the guy and rightly so, the lean bulky oxymoron of a man was besides him in a jiffy. Avinash took over the load of carrying the girl and Maanav shielded the duo with pistols in both his arms. Avinash handed him a grenade, their last one and Maanav dropped it at the entrance since the troops would now close in hearing the helicopter nearing the terrace of the building.

As they barged into the terrace they were in for a surprise, there were two men stationed there. Avinash rolled along the ground. Maanav’s disguise disintegrated and his face was revealed… He shot the two point-blank but not before getting hit on the chest. He only felt the heaviness settling in the chest when the Helicopter landed and Avinash rushed towards him.

Pressing a cloth on his chest Avinash whispered heavily. “Hang in there, Bullet….we have to see this through together….”

He felt his ass being hauled on the helicopter and as the bird flew higher amidst the sounds of bullets from automatic weapons, the mother of all pains shot through his being. He felt a prick…probably the doctor on board injected something. All he could see as his vision blurred was Avinash animatedly speaking something…

As the world around him began to fade he remembered his past… his childhood, his father and the special friend whom he had to betray… his little Nitya.

I am so sorry Nitya….

©priyanayakgole

(Disclaimer: This is a piece of fiction using the backdrop of the attack that happened and any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. This doesn’t attempt to change history or facts.)

Chapter 2

Nitya turned over the simmering omelette making sure not to let the side burn. Naman loved his eggs in a particular manner or he didn’t eat them at all. The tiny kitchen was filled with the aroma of desi ghee, an indulgence she could afford for Naman. He would be back from his computer class anytime now and she always made it a point to keep his breakfast ready before going off to work. The 18-year-old liked his breakfast just a little warm.

It was a month since her mother had passed and despite the woman being like a breathing piece of furniture in her last days or not being there for her for over 15 years, Nitya still missed her. She missed her presence or the smell of the talc that Nitya insisted she use. It often prepped the woman up during her depressive spurts.

Usually, whenever Nitya was away at work, Naman stayed alone and Kamble kaka occasionally checked on him. She texted Naman as well and he replied religiously using emojis or little texts. That put her at ease.

Today she had taken an extended leave given the events in the past few days after her mother’s passing. She wanted to clean up the house and also spend quality time with her brother. Above all, she wanted to reply to Sajid’s proposal. She had decided to break up with him and to her surprise had felt like a burden had been lifted off her shoulders. They hadn’t exchanged a single message or call after that last text. She didn’t even miss him or feel his absence.

There had been no over-physical proximity between them. Now that she thought of it, they never had a chance and not just her, Sajid too didn’t seem much interested in the same.

It wasn’t that she considered herself chaste or virtuous… She had lost her virginity years ago when she had revolted against her mother and the family situation and taken off with her 11th-grade crush. They were both experimenting and awkward. She hadn’t felt anything and both had moved on as if nothing had transpired between them. In the past years, when the going was very tough she had hooked up with a couple of instructors from the gym she worked at earlier but she didn’t enjoy the process and realised unlike those men, she didn’t only need a physical outlet but an emotional one as well. So, she had given up over 5 years ago and to date hadn’t found anyone she could indulge in all the way… not even Sajid.

She sighed and looked around the modest drawing room. Despite her best efforts to scrub and clean, the room reeked of negligence and poverty. The wall plaster had chipped away ages ago leaving it bare to fend for itself and the mosaic tiles were just barely there, broken in so many places that it looked like a barren desert… She had put an old excuse of a carpet over it so they didn’t hurt their soles. The lone cupboard that held her meagre possessions stood crumbling and proud, a lone witness to the various shenanigans at home whenever her mother threw a fit in depressive spurts. She stood before the mirror attached to the cupboard and chuckled at the splintered image staring back at her. How very apt visual of her life.

She opened the cupboard creaking painfully as the door stood on the last vestige of its hinges.

She had been hesitating to do this but this was important and needed to be done. She removed her mother’s only remaining physical memory. An old bag filled with her minuscule possessions. They had always lived a hand-to-mouth existence given her father’s indiscretion, as they called it. Nitya didn’t want Naman to see it so keeping an eye on the clock, she opened the zipper of the airbag that had seen better days. Her mother always fiercely guarded the bag and never let anyone touch it till a month before she passed when she had been delirious. Nitya respected her wishes and stayed away from the bag.

Today she opened it…

Nothing looked out of the ordinary…just like their routine life all these years. There were a few cotton sarees, her mother owned forever. Faded but soft, reminding her of a time decades ago when her mother was full of hope…. A hope that faded away with time making her mother a shell of her former self. There were just two cotton sarees. Nitya lifted the pale blue saree and held it close to her face. It still smelled like her mother and tears stung her eyes. Her mother had had it tough…. Very tough

Her mother had been very young and gone against her family to marry the man she loved. She was a brilliant student as well but unfortunately didn’t share the same vision as her ambitious husband. Nitya remembered as if it was yesterday, how much her parents had fought over her father’s decision to move to Yemen for better opportunities. Her mother wanted to stay back and bridge the gap between them and Nitya’s maternal grandparents. Naman was a baby and her mom wanted to take up a job in the same organisation where she had studied. Her grandparents would have helped look after Nitya and Naman.

But alas, all that remained just a dream. Nitya’s father remained firm in his resolve and insisted his wife continue being at home and manage things while he earned the moolah.

“It’s for Nitya’s higher education and dowry… Naman should also go abroad for higher education…. It’s just a matter of a few years, my dear. I can give you a life of comfort…” Her father always argued.

“But, we are comfortable… I love being with you all. Aai, baba are willing to take care of the kids… I can start work…”

“No… Naman is still very small. He needs you. Please stay at home…” Her father continued to plead.

Her mother eventually gave in when nothing she tried could shake his resolve.

Nitya’s father was an orphan so there wasn’t any relative from that side to help them.

Initially, the money had come regularly with an occasional phone call. But everything trickled down… both the money and the calls, till there was nothing… no news about her father. No one knew anything about his new company.

And then came along 26/11…

Her maternal grandparents and uncles who were just warming up to them were repelled by the aftermath of the Mumbai terror attacks where her father was named as one in cahoots with the perps. Life went downhill after the incident and her mother never got over the shock.

They had to move all the time to avoid being hounded by the media and the worse was the hatred in people’s minds for the families of the perps and those associated with them.

Nitya hated her father for destroying their lives and at times she was grateful Naman had his condition to hide behind it. Otherwise, he would have had it the worst. She was proud of her brother for having fought his own battles despite his condition. He had enwrapped himself in his own world of codes and ever since he had got her father’s ‘gift’ he had been engrossed in something she never could understand.

Naman was a genius in software, coding in particular. She had to take him out of the special school and on the advice of the counsellor had enrolled him for a computer class. He was self-taught and had even started taking up little assignments for the computer classes. He couldn’t write but typed with an enviable speed. His dexterity was poor for his routine skills but when it came to the keyboard, he was brilliant… an ace. Nitya always wished to know what was going on in his head but there was no way she could follow him.

Naman, despite everything had a strange radar about people. His judgements were correct most of the time.

Naman never reacted aversely to people in general. If he didn’t like someone he just moved on. If he liked them, which was rare, he smiled shyly and held their hand and smelled it. However, his reaction towards Sajid was strange. The guy seemed to hate the man. As if at that time Naman was a typical young guy… It surprised her. She tried asking Naman using every mechanism possible but Naman withdrew in his shell the moment Sajid’s name was mentioned.

That was one of the reasons she had wanted to break whatever fragile thread of relationship she had with Sajid.

She shook her head and got back to her task at hand. She was about to put back the saree in the bag when her hand touched a raised part at the base of the bag. There was something beneath the cloth layer at the base. She got a pair of scissors and cut open the cloth. A tattered photo album looked up at her.

Oh Amma… what did you hide here?

She picked up the album the size of a thick novel. She had always thought amma had destroyed everything linked to their past. But no… here was something.  She flipped through the pictures. Some black and white ones when her amma was younger and radiant… she was a stunner. No wonder appa fell for her. There wasn’t a single photo belonging to appa. She flipped through carefully and there were a few pictures from her childhood but appa’s face had been torn out. Tears filled her eyes and began to roll down her cheeks. They were such a beautiful loving family… why did things go ruthlessly wrong?

She turned further and stopped at the picture. It was during a martial arts camp. She always looked forward to this annual camp and despite her amma’s protests appa always supported her. The reason being…Maanav. In the picture, she stood with him on the rock during their trek. He was her special friend. She remembered having a great time with the guy who gave her so many pointers on shooting… she had wanted to learn the sport but it never happened. In fact, this was the last time they had a good time together… she lost her best friend that day. He betrayed her… he would have been just around 14 years or so but he backstabbed her. She was more heartbroken than angry…

Nitya touched the picture and sighed.

She knew Maanav from much before those couple of camps.

Appa always took her for ‘outings’ on certain days. It would be some garden or public parks and while she would enthral herself in the myriad instruments of childhood pleasure, her father would disappear amidst the fauna. She didn’t mind at all because she had a friend despite odd hours and the blazing sun. Maanav would be there with his father and his father too would be gone into those bushes or just disappear somewhere with her father. Maanav and Nitya would play to their heart’s content. He taught her games she didn’t know existed… They helped her gain an advantage over her peers. She could show off to them. This went on for 2 years or so and she often heard her parents fight before appa took her out. Her mom didn’t want appa to take her along but she wanted to and threw a tantrum. Appa seemed to struggle to explain that Nitya ‘had’ to go along. Something about maintaining ‘cover’… she remembered it now.

Nitya attended her first martial arts camp because of Maanav and loved it. If crush had a name, for Nitya it was Maanav.

They met again after the first camp in the park and now they were old enough to just stroll and chat rather than play on the slides!.

Maanav seemed to be the storehouse of knowledge and his focus was enviable.

“Nitya, when you are in combat mode, you should be still like a rock” Maanav once said.

“But why? If the enemy can be attacked sooner, you can have the advantage, can’t you?” Nitya had argued.

“No Nitya, my baba says, to engage the brain before engaging the weapon and unless you get rock still, the enemy can sniff you out.”

The same day Nitya saw their fathers emerge from the foliage. They were arguing unlike their usual friendly demeanour when they picked their children.

“No Mohan… you don’t understand. I don’t trust Jafar. You sure about this, my friend?” Maanav’s father, a tall strong muscular man with a thick beard covering his square jaw, and sunglasses perched on his straight nose, asked appa.

“Colonel, I need this job. I did my bit for my country but that’s not enough for my family…” Appa looked at Nitya and continued. “… She has big dreams… she is brilliant too… has a great future and I have to afford that. We know Jafar from college. He is a good guy and promised to help…Don’t worry its just a matter of a few years…”

“I hope you know what you are getting into Mohan…” Colonel uncle had patted appa’s back and then they had dispersed.

Appa had soon left for Yemen and she had attended the camp the following year, her last excursion before heavens befell them.

Nitya shuddered as she shut the rest of the empty album and placed it in the tattered bag.. Her hands touched something else. A ragged leather bag…

Was this a bag or a Pandora’s box…

Nitya wondered what her mother had wanted to keep a secret that she had hidden it all in this manner. With trembling hands, she opened the rickety zipper and saw soiled … letters. Smudged ink only revealed the address to their old home and her mother… It wasn’t rocket science to understand the handwriting, however, messed up, was her father’s.

She suddenly realised she didn’t know her parents at all….

She blinked back tears and glanced at the album she had placed back. She had stayed away from all kinds of social media for her reasons and there was no cord connecting her to her old life. But curiosity was meant to be the biggest cause of happiness, was it not?

Where are you, Maanav?

©priyanayakgole

(Disclaimer: This is a piece of fiction using the backdrop of the attack that happened and any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. This doesn’t attempt to change history or facts.)

Nitya’s predicament

Present day

Nitya shut the door of her modest home in the corner of Bhandup, a suburb in Mumbai. The last guest of the select few had just exited and she latched the door securely. Turning around she sighed looking at her mother’s garlanded photo. She had passed a couple of days ago and today Nitya had arranged a prayer meeting at the behest of her family friend, Kamble uncle.

“Kaka, I don’t believe in all these farcical rituals…” She had protested. “… I took care of Amma till the time she lived… gave her a decent departure at the crematorium. Don’t you think this is enough? Why should I announce it from the rooftops?”

“Nitya beta, its for the reason that all this doesn’t look conspicuous. Your mother lived her life in absolute obscurity and fear. If we don’t call a few people for the prayer meet then it would make it look even more odd. We don’t need people’s attention to focus on you or your brother, more than necessary.” Her uncle had justified.

She had relented and today the prayer meeting was done with.

It was tough for her to face the sparse crowd though she had known them for the last decade she had stayed here. The women looked at her with eyes overflowing with unsolicited pity and maybe even envy, at her svelte figure. But the men ogled at her. Some of them had even eve teased her in her initial days here but she had been an avid martial artist and had shown one of them the repercussion after which she was left alone.

Today she had worn a saree after ages on Kamble uncle’s insistence. She didn’t want to disappoint him since he had gone out of his way to help them. The man had been their anchor when they had hit rock bottom. He was the only stable family she had seen.

Nitya had always worn loose t-shirts over loose-fitting jeans that literally hung on her slender frame. It was a perfect camouflage for her to go to and fro to work at the gym where she was a fitness instructor and also doubled up as a martial arts teacher. The pay was average but she made good money in personal coaching and this area was the cheapest to live in these suburbs.

Nitya walked into the only bedroom of the tiny flat, they had rented for the past decade. The landlord was Kamble uncle’s friend and had reluctantly extended her lease every year. He had even kept the rent on the lower side to his utmost chagrin but Nitya wasn’t the one to judge. She was only grateful.

She looked up at the ceiling, the iron rods blatantly staring at her now having been chipped off the cement layers just like the fortune and peace from her life. The corner in one of the walls facing outside had dampened and refused to dry. Despite her best efforts feeble stench of increasing mould remained. The Rains had been particularly ruthless this time

Compared to the curveball life had thrown her way, this was sheer bliss.

She was barely 11 years old when her father passed… but the mayhem that followed his death was devastating. She lived in Pune those days close to her maternal grandparents. But her father was labelled a traitor who helped design the terrorist attacks that shook the heart of the country. It was a nightmare for her mother and her little brother, Naman who was barely 3 years old. There was trial by the media across news channels and despite there being bare minimal social media in those days, it was a living hell for them. They had moved to that housing colony after her father had left for that job in Yemen. Her mother, also a science graduate, was against the move but appa wanted to give them the best… little good it did.

Her appa was her hero. Then why did he do it? That would always remain a mystery. She didn’t want to believe it at all even years later when she grew old enough to know stuff. His memories were fading away… and she didn’t remember him except for the occasional old Hindi movie songs which when played reminded her of his fun games whenever he spent time at home. What did he look like? She had fading memories of his angular jaw very similar to that of hers with a pencil-thin moustache. Her mother often said she resembled her father in the good old days. She wanted to hang on to that image despite all that had transpired. There was no picture of him available anymore… her mother had destroyed all physical copies and at that time he wasn’t on any form of virtual medium despite the fact that he was a software genius.

Long story short, it didn’t matter anymore Because all she remembered was a miserable adolescence with a depressed mother and a brother for whom she was a surrogate mother to date.

The last 15+ years had taken a lot from Nitya. Her childhood, good memories …in short, her life.

Her mother was bedridden and heavily sedated in the last five years. She had to take care of the household too besides earning a living. Then her brother… the super genius in the family. He needed care as well despite being 18 years old.

Nitya walked towards the study table in the room darkened by thick curtains despite the bright daylight. The slight silhouette of her brother Naman, slouched on the revolving chair she had got him from the flea market, was visible. She knew he was disturbed at a different level. She knew better than to talk to him. She couldn’t handle a meltdown right now.

Naman had Asperger’s Syndrome. She had always trodden on eggshells around him to help him calm down. His cries during a meltdown would depress her mother further. Twice the woman had OD-ied and Nitya couldn’t lose the only living relative… She could only study till the 12^th grade after which she plunged head-on to earn a living. But life had been the best school teaching her things she would never have learnt in a sheltered upbringing.

She tiptoed towards her brother, her only remaining family… well figuratively. The last decade had brought them very close to each other. Naman only listened to her and needed her voice or touch to calm down.

She saw him rocking with a slight humming and his headphones were on too. She knew he was distressed. She placed a hand on his shoulder, tentatively and he began to rock more… with a greater intensity. She knew he was in agony… something he couldn’t tell despite being verbal. These were the emotions only she could feel. She teared up… the emotions were getting the better of her. She had never cried for ages, not when they had to give up everything 15 years ago, not even when she had to become a breadwinner as an adolescent, not even when her mother almost died consuming those sleeping pills and not even when amma died…

But Naman was her weakness… she had been the only relative he had known.

Today he was hurting, probably more than her. She knew what she had to do. She hugged him from the back and began rocking with him. After about a minute he slowed down and finally came to a standstill. She gently took off his headphones watching him every second. She couldn’t tolerate a meltdown right then… She was drained too.

“Hey Naman… sweetie… I know you are hurt. I am so sorry dear but amma was ailing and in pain. She is in a better place now. Remember, when we spoke about heaven?” her voice cracked up towards the end of the sentence.

She remembered one of the many workshops she had attended, by a parent support group for her brother. It helped her deal with him better. She was after all his parent in the true sense of the word. Naman only listened to her… she didn’t know how much he followed her but he often heard her out with his gaze fixed on the mould on the wall whenever she wanted to vent out, frustrated with her life. Despite his issues, he seemed to understand her well. He gave her a patient ear and never judged her.

She loved him to no end and had pledged her life for him.

Naman nodded slightly and she doubted he truly understood emotions but he was a genius… her mother said, despite everything, her brother had inherited his high IQ from his father. And then that stupid laptop-like structure, whatever it was… It had reached them a week after her father passed. Her father’s death in a computer laboratory short circuit came as a shock… The Mumbai attacks news was fresh as ever and this was out of the blue. The only communication that cryptically came over from Yemen office and there was no contact ever since. Which world did they live in?

The ‘gift’ had come to her old home and was received by her grandparents who handed the still-packed gift to her mother a few years ago.

Her mother had lost it all over again and Nitya hated it all the more…However, Naman had taken to the gadget like a fish to water. It was some crude prototype of a laptop probably built by her father. The gadget just played music from an old album, it sounded familiar but she couldn’t place it. The music seemed incomplete… She always had the urge to find the solution and complete it but what was that music?  She couldn’t ask around because it would call for attention and Kamble kaka the only soul outside their home who knew about the gift, advised her to let it go.

Naman however kept busy all day and for the past few years, it was his companion whenever he was home after his special-school hours. She always thought the gift was a blessing in disguise for Naman because he could emerge into those codes without having to bother about the life troubles surrounding him.

She looked at the blinking green lights on the keyboard panel and then there was this boxlike structure just like the area where a cordless phone would have fitted. But there was no phone or any such thing with this one.

Naman seemed to have got back his equilibrium now and began to hit the keys with a vengeance.

She sighed and walked out of the room just as her phone beeped with an incoming message. It was from Sajid… her boyfriend of five years. Amma hated him, so did kaka and Sajid had met them just once. She didn’t love him either, but he had been with her through her lows in these past years. A psychologist would have a field day analysing her complexes! She didn’t know why she was still with Sajid. They barely spent time together.

Romantic love wasn’t something she believed in… she didn’t have that emotion… or maybe she did once at that time during her childhood. Before hell broke loose…That brown-eyed boy with an amazing dimple when he showed his perfect set of teeth…

She shook her head at the fleeting memory. It was all in the past…

Off late Sajid had been pursuing her relentlessly, wanting to marry her. He had a job offer abroad and wanted to marry her. Just last night he had called her.

“Come on Nitya… I am sorry for your loss… but I am there for you. Always. Naman is like a younger brother and I shall take care of him as well. We shall take him along too…”

“Sajid, Naman can’t be uprooted… and he has become very emotionally volatile and his meds have been tweaked as well. It’s a tough time for him…”

“I understand Nitya. Trust me I do. I shall take care of everything. Naman only wants a gadget like that toy he has… doesn’t he…?”

“No Sajid its more than that. Let me ponder over it a little more alright?”

Sajid hadn’t pushed her after that.

She sighed and read the current message.

Hey Nitya, will be gone for a few days. New job requirements. Cu in a few days. Take care.

She realised she left the breath she didn’t know she held. Why did Sajid make her anxious these days? Was it because of the ‘marriage’ topic? She couldn’t ruin anyone’s life because she came with baggage. Her brother was an extension of her own being and anyone marrying her would have to accept him.

Sajid had accepted Naman but the problem was, Naman didn’t like Sajid…

Naman hated Sajid.

©priyanayakgole

(Disclaimer: This is a piece of fiction using the backdrop of the attack that happened and any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. This doesn’t attempt to change history or facts.)

25th November 2008

The cul-de-sac of the cyber chamber seemed different that day, the blast of AC chilling him but he knew the chill was due to another reason. The buzz of the machines that usually fanned his passion for the cyber world and its intriguing realm held no interest today. His anxiety was shooting up along with his blood pressure and he had just taken today’s dose of his meds.

He strode to his computer and unlocked it. His daughter Nitya stared back making a funny face him as the special desktop took its own sweet time to boot up. He smiled… Nitya would be 11 years old soon. He hadn’t wished her for the past two birthdays. Would she hate him? His little Naman was merely 2 when he last saw the boy. Would he remember his appa?

The customized computer was so damn slow. He should have fixed this malware ages ago but now was not the time for such musings. His anxiety increased by the minute… there was no time. His colleagues would be in any minute.

Seated in this top-secret building in Yemen, a small country in the Arabian Peninsula, he had come on a special project, 3 years ago. He was a scientist, way ahead of his time and India had not acknowledged his importance. But his college friend Jafar-ul-Mansood, now based in Riyadh had.

On Jafar’s insistence, he had quit his job at IISc and flown to Yemen to join this company meant to build high-tech software for augmenting technology meant for robotics that could create marvels in the medical industry, at least that’s what he was made to believe. He had written so many codes that he had lost touch with reality. Till a couple of months earlier when he overheard Jafar speak on the phone. The man mentioned something about an attack on Mumbai… what?

Probing further he had found out that this company that paid him huge bucks was a farce… just a front for something sinister…. And just last week he realized, someone with a code name Butt had planned an evil crusade against his motherland. It wasn’t rocket science to find out the rest of it all… He had all the expertise and these guys always trusted him so there were no firewalls when he accessed the rest of the information… at least he thought so.

He had done the needful… whatever he could without calling for attention so far. He just hoped his gifts he had clandestinely arranged to be delivered to his old home was received. It was a special gift for Nitya…. A little blessing for her future. The other letters too would hopefully reach their recipients. He had managed to take the help of the sweeper, Kadir, the only man he trusted.

Now, the mounting anxiety engulfed all rational thought even as he hit the keys, unknowingly gathering more evidence.

Disgust gnawed at him as he realised how he had walked into a trap laid out by someone whom he trusted. Commander Deshmukh too had warned him subtly ages ago… about the dubious Jafar. But his greed for a better future for his children had surpassed all rational thought. His wife had pleaded with him not to go… he should have listened to her.

His wife had severed all contact for two years now and he didn’t even know her current whereabouts.

The desktop panel beeped indicating the completion of the booting up. His trembling fingers flew on the keyboard trying to erase all about project ‘BUTT’… but… wait… the information on those codes was missing. Did they eliminate the data already? How was it possible?

Oh God…

Oh, sweet Lord. How did they know about this? He hacked a site he had been trying to get into…

The location of the head office of his company was Karachi. That only meant one thing… Something was coming up in a day or two and there was this massive project hell-bent on destroying his country and he had been privy to it all along.

He wiped the sweat off his brow. What was he thinking? He had to act… act fast.

He typed-in his back door… something he had ingeniously built by habit. He couldn’t rectify the current mission or whatever the crap was going to unfold but he had to prevent future disaster. Frantically, he moved over to his latest project, the second one with the company, which was about 70 percent complete. He compared the codes to the research papers he gathered over the week… the second project.

He couldn’t remove the codes so he began to scramble them. It was in a particular order that only a super genius could decode if he observed the cryptic patterns closely. Only a genius could complete it.

But he knew these fanatics were blinded by their stupid missions and their pea-sized brains wouldn’t be able to encode anything unless they got in someone as good as him, if not better. As of now, he was sure he had done a marvellous job.  This second mission stood stranded…

Watching his handiwork set up on the screen before him, he pressed the enter key and the codes began to realign according to his brainwave.

Just then a loud gong went off. Oh did these people have an indicator like a warning signal?

Before he could react a group of armed men rushed into the room followed by Jafar and a couple of people he hadn’t met.

“Bhaijaan what did you do?” Jafar looked stricken. He rushed towards the computer, now a mess of undecipherable codes.

“I should ask you, Jafar, shouldn’t I? I will not betray my country.” He stood up to the men.

“In that case…” one of the younger men with a golden tooth glinting as he grinned and grimaced, walked forward with a pronounced limp. “…Doctor miyan, we give… you… much money. And you destroy our work… You know too much so… you know punishment, no?” This guy was a pro and their leader in the making.

His menacing kohl-laden eyes shielded by strands of unruly hair gleamed, as he snatched a gun from one of the men.

The room reverberated with the staccato bangs of the bullets pumping into the scientist, whose name tag now stained crimson, read, Dr. Parikshit Mohandas.

As he fell writhing, as the last ounce of breath left his body, Parikshit’s unmoving orbs stared after his handiwork… a copy of which had already been passed on to a location only known to him. Whether the pieces of puzzles would come together, only time would tell….

He only wished the BUTT mission would fail….

(It did not. On 26^th November 2008, a series of terrorist attacks took place in Mumbai, Maharashtra. The attacks lasted 2 days and resulted in 175 fatalities and over 300 injured….)

©priyanayakgole

(Disclaimer: This is a piece of fiction using the backdrop of the attack that happened and any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. This doesn’t attempt to change history or facts.)