LOST IN VENICE
Writer – Ayush Pratap, student of FIND YOUR VOICE creative writing program mentored by Meenakshi M Singh
LOST IN VENICE
“What do you mean that you don’t have my luggage?” Jason Brown shouted on his IPhone.
“I transferred….to Hotel Danieli…” the phone fell silent.
“Ugh… Damn this network. There is no signal anywhere in Italy.” He said with a hint of fear appearing on his face.
The sky was a mellow orange over ‘Don’s Fresco’ and the setting sun created a mesmerizing effect on the water in the canals of Venice.
Jason hurriedly finished his mocha coffee and quickly left after throwing a tip on the table.
“Wonderful, now I am stuck in this city without my passport.” He muttered to himself.
He hired a water taxi and guided the driver to his hotel.
“This is the street, signor.” The driver said putting his hand forward expecting his payment. “That would be 25€.”
“Are you sure this is the right street? It doesn’t seem familiar at all.”
Jason asked.
“Si, it is the Piazza San Marco.” He said monotonously.
“Alright then, here’s your 25 bucks.”
“Grazie.”
The water taxi noisily sped away and Jason started searching for his hotel.
He took out a piece of paper on which the name and address of his hotel were scribbled.
“Umm… let’s see… Hotel Danieli on….what’s this….Riva Degli Schiavoni.” He blurted out loud while squinting to make out the words properly.
“Looks like I will have to ask someone for the directions.”
He spotted an elderly man seated at a café nearby.
“Signor… do you know which way Riva Degli Schiavoni is?” he asked impatient for an answer.
The stranger said nothing still busy with his newspaper and pointed towards a street with his finger.
“Thank you sir.” Jason said as he dashed away in the direction of the street.
He admired the scenery as he walked past the Basilica di San Marco. Thousands of tourists were wandering around the front of the church. Some taking a tour, some clicking photos and some just strolling.
I should be there having fun rather than finding my damn passport. He thought.
The sun was swiftly setting overhead and the night just seemed to approach.
It was not much time before Jason came to the Riva Degli Schiavoni.
“Now I just need to find where hotel Danieli is.” He muttered looking around for directions.
“Umm. Do you know where Hotel Danieli is? He asked a young man standing nearby.
“Perdono.” He said removing his headphones.
“Hotel Danieli, do you know where it is?”
“Hmm… stupido” he said putting his headphones back on.
Queer guy. I asked him a question. He wondered moving on.
“Umm do you know where hotel Danieli is?” he asked a gentleman in his young 50s.
“It used to be there.” He said pointing towards a recently renovated building.
“Thanks”
‘Used to’. Italians really need to work on their English. He wondered approaching the building.
“Is this the Hotel Danieli? There’s no board outside.” He asked the man at the front desk.
“Was” he replied without looking up from his work.
“Pardon me?” Jason looked perplexed.
“It was Hotel Danieli.” He replied this time facing Jason.
“What do you mean?”
“Hotel Danieli was shut down in 1983 due to financial crisis. This is no longer Hotel Danieli.”
“THERE IS NO TOMORROW”
Deeply overwhelmed by the barbaric act in Peshawar,One of my student, Pranav, 14 years old wrote this ! Numbing our souls!
Respected ma’am
I was greatly influenced by the barbaric act of terrorism on innocent children, and decided to write a story.
“THERE IS NO TOMORROW”
“I think I like her”. Ibrahim glanced over his partner’s shoulder, looking at the girl he liked so much, Massoodi. “It can’t ever happen between us, our families have never been on good terms.” He sat en-captured by his lovers’ beauty. He felt as if time had slowed, even the teacher’s grunt, lecturing on the adjective, seemed like background music, as he looked upon her.
“An adjective is any word naming the attribute of a …” The teacher continued.
“Just go, and tell her. Just do it. Irrespective of what your families opinion. Dude, it is, after all your life!” Rahim, Ibrahim’s best buddy, advised him, like a “Love guru”, looking rather grave, earnest and sobering, concerned for his friend.
Ibrahim continued reading his book, indifferent to his friend, and teacher. It was just him, his thoughts and the book. It was a story about a soldier in enemy territory, trying to escape back into his own. It was deathly cold, but he could not ask for shelter. Instead, when he got tired, he would lie on the ground and will himself to believe that it was warm. It worked for him. Even in the crippling cold, he could use the power of his mind to believe it was warm and that it would all be fine. Ibrahim laughed at what he read.
“Ibrahim, ibrahim”. Rahim, waggled him, breaking his chain of thoughts.
“Oh, yes , yes.I’ll see about it tomorrow. There is always a tomorrow. Ain’t there?.” He smirked. “You are coming tomorrow, aren’t you?”asked Ibrahim.
“Off course.!” He gestured with his fingers, his eyes, stuck to his watch-” the bell rings in 3….2…1!” The bell rang precisely, as Rahim left his index finger, to symbolize one. The boys grinned as the walked out.
They walked out of the main gate, and rahim left for his bus. Ibrahim, for a moment, turned and looked back.
He looked through the the gates of the school, at the long straight road ahead of him, with a playground to the right of the road and the school wall to the left, and then at honk of his bus , ran to catch his bus,that had already been delayed.
—————…………————–…..——–
INTERCEPTS OF PAKISTANI INTELLIGENCE:
“Sallam-e-alikum”
“All set?”
“Yes,commander”
“Are you nervous?”
“Not at all,commander! . Everything will be fine.”
“May allah be with you! COMMANDER OVER AND OUT”
“Over and out”
——————————————————
“Dawood Ibrahim. Wake up. Wake up immediately!” Ibrahim’s mother, a middle aged woman, seemingly in her thirties, tried waking up her stubborn son.
“I’m leaving, now. What it’s already 7? You wake up!”the lady busily left for job.
“Yes mom. Just 2 minutes more. The alarm will ring anyways.” The boy replied sleepily.
——…….. ————–………………………..
2 hours later:
“Damn, I overslept? I should have avoided that wedding. Ah, my stomach hurts too. And this alarm, why didn’t it work? Hahahah, Rahim would be so hot under the collar.” He smiled at the mere thought and memory of his friends. There was something, just something that made him smile. There had to be.
——–…….-.-.-…………………….
They scaled the wall of the school, separating it from the adjacent graveyard, carrying heavy Ak-47’s , hand grenades, and dynamites attached to vests.
Six taliban gunmen stormed the school, toyed with students.
The class-9 students, sat in an english lecture.
“Rahim, you incorrigible inattentive boy! What is it that is bothering you?” The tall teacher, with dark enchanting hair, and deep green eyes stared upon Rahim.
“Sir, I can’t help being distracted by these gunshots. They are extremely..” Rahim lied. His literal cause of in-alertness was the skipping of school by Ibrahim.
“Oh, they are nothin’. They are probably from the first aid class. The sounds are of the demonstration. Now relax, and focus.” He emphasised on the word “focus”.
“But, Mr. Khan, they are growing louder.”shouted a voice , full of fear, from the far end corner of the classroom. It was Massoodi.
“Fine, let me check, if you insist!”
The teacher, opened the door and suddenly rushed back, in haste-
“Get under your benches. Quickly!” He yelled, in vehement outcry.
He tried to bolt the door, just when, someone distressed from sudden activity, pushed it from outside. Mr. Khan fell to the ground, when two men, in army-like uniforms , carrying AK-47’s
barged in.
“Make no noise and do as we say!” Their faces were covered with black cloth.
“All those, who wish to be let go, raise your hands!” The entire class responded to the call by doing so. “Alas, I need only eight.” The gunmen laughed.
“Akar, bakar, bombay, baw-aasi, nabe puure saaw. Hahaha.” The picked a student , every time they finished the rhyme.
They made them stand, facing the wall in front of the blackboard.
One burly gunman, forced the teacher to a chair. “Watch, as your loved ones die. Ours are also being killed in the same way.”
He opened fire on the children, ruthlessly and heartlessly. The children slumped to the ground, some dead, while others writhing and moaning in agony.
“Now , now, now. I want eight more . Whose turn is it, to die first?” The gunman grabbed and pulled students, to take them near the blackboard, when nobody raised their hands. The students wrenched violently, pulling at each other, refusing to let go.
As the gunman, started pulling Chaheti, Massoodi intervened.
” Take me. But leave her unharmed!” She wailed as she spoke.
The gunman, thought for a moment, and shot Massoodi, in the middle of her head. Rahim, from the opposite end, lamented. He blinked of tears.
The second gunman, guarding the door, paused briefly, to make a phone call-
“How is it going?”
We have killed all of the children in the auditorium,” the militant replied. “What do we do now?”
“Wait for the army to arrive,” came the reply. “Kill them, then blow yourself up.”
After the telephonic conversation, the gunman guarding the door, informed the other, seeing the troops-“Mayday, mayday. Abort. We must leave. They are here. Quick!”
The terrorists, started spraying bullets indiscriminately, and left.
Rahim got two bullets on his shoulder. He tried to cover his wound with his tie, but fell conscious.
Elsewhere, in the school complex – four main buildings clustered around a central administration block – it was the blood of children that dominated. It was everywhere: smeared on the walls, pooled in the corridors and soaked in abandoned clothes. The smell of explosives and charred flesh filled the air.
The greatest carnage occurred, apparently, inside the assembly hall, with more than 100 bodies, many piled on one another. Shoes, copybooks and spectacles were scattered amid empty rows of seats where, according to witness accounts, students had cowered in vain attempts to evade the killers. They were singled out, one by one, and shot in the head.
The militant rampage was cut shot, when the army’s elite SPECIAL SERVICE GROUP entered the school.
The gunmen retreated, holing up in the central administration block. They used the walls as cover, opening fire on the advancing soldiers.
One commando with a microphone, announced-” Surrender, and expect leniency. This is the last…..”
It was there, where the siege ended. Five militants exploded their suicide vests in the lobby; the remaining two charged at the commandos who had taken position outside the building. They also exploded their vests, sending a spray of shrapnel into trees and walls and wounding seven commandos.
———————-………….
“Where is the bus? I have been waiting for an hour now. How late can it get?” Ibrahim in a fit of anger, left the bus stop. He was waiting for his friends.
He returned home, and switched on the television. He turned to a news channel. His eyes, were
Glued to the television, not believing what they saw. “These news channels now-a-days. They show just about anything for popularity.” He switched channels.
“the pupils who have survived the massacre recuperated in the hospital or just counted their luck. Some said they escaped the gunmen by hiding in a nearby graveyard; others played dead for hours, lying among the corpses of their classmates as a gunbattle raged between militants and soldiers. ” The journalist then, stopped talking, for a minute, as whole of Pakistan observed a minutes’ silence, as a tribute to the students who were subject to such barbarity.
Ibrahim’s smile turned to wailing and lamenting as he saw pictures of his mates, with no life in them.
He knew, in that moment, why he smiled at the mere thought of his friends .
“How could I have? I am left all alone? Rahim…….!” He couldn’t take it anymore.
He ran to his mother, and hugged her passionately.
He spent the whole of the next day attending funerals. His city, Peshawar became a city of small coffins.
” The smaller they are, the heavier they get.” He thought. Through the day, mournful funeral processions wended through the otherwise deserted streets, as the victims of the massacre were escorted to mosques and graveyards.
Unending tears flowed from his eyes. In his mind’s eye, the length of the schools’ road remained the same, but He struggled to recall it with the images of little dead bodies superimposed over it.
When He was reading that book, He remembered finding it impossible to believe that we could use the power of our minds to ignore the stark facts before us. Now, He saw how it is possible and how they had all been doing it for so long.
They had been, for the most part, warm despite the cold, unflinching terror before them.
That night, He tried every remedy and position to fall asleep, but where was sleep going to come, in eyes of a young boy, whose life had come to a halt , or as it seemed. So there he was, tossing and turning in bed, waiting for sleep to come, thinking to himself –
“THERE IS NO TOMORROW!”….
The END
The Revenge
WRITER – Pranav Agarwal AGE – 13 years Student of FIND YOUR VOICE by creativeHappiness
—————————————————————————————————————————
26 th NOVEMBER, 2008; somewhere in INDIA.
“Good moooooorning Dilli” commenced the late night shift radio jockey, as Brig.(retd.) Jasbir sodhi shifted stations, to tune in to early morning bhajans. “For this new generation, 4:00 a.m may be late night”, he thought to himself,with an evil look,” but for an Army man, 4:00 a.m. is a new day, bringing new rays of hope and joy, and perhaps, terror for some!” , just as he sat on his old sofa, that looked just as old as him, satisfied with the radio station. He seemed like a typical army brat.
His long white moustache that he raised at the ends, complimented his strong ,sturdy and tough body perfectly. His face had freckles, and seemed as dried as raisin. All his hair had turned white, over years of hard work, both at his office as well as at training his son, to be an officer, just like him.
He turned to his watch, and called out to his wife, “Urmila..Urmila.. You are so incorrigible. You went back to sleep? Besides its time for my tea!”. His wife emerged from the room, replying modestly with a cribb, almost bumping into the beautiful Vintage gun collection of the Brigadier, dropping the pistol he valued most- -” Oh, I was freshening up! You husbands are always ready to comment. I have woken up at 4:00 each day for you, from the past 25 years. Haven’t I?”
“Yes” he replied, while a totally different answer played in his head.
“Oh, yes, by the way, ask your maid to stop entering that room of mine. She was there again. I have lost count of many times have I told her!”he shouted across to the kitchen, where his wife was making tea.
“Yes, but what I can do, except telling her?.
“Alright “he nodded. Rahul is returning today! Be ready by 8. Umm.. We ll get the groceries. He will be calling up,when he reaches the connecting flight!”the Brig. said trying to change the topic.
“Ah..yes yes. He is finally returning, after two long years. Finally he has managed to get leave. He might have forgotten our faces, i think! His boss, he is so domineering and weird. I never liked him. He is so strict with leaves!” with great emotion and a crack in her voice, she replied.
” That is how bosses are supposed to be. He is not “weird” but a true patriot”, he said, in response , falling back to his days.
“The forces are losing there charm, don’t you think? With the advancement in technology, the values are deteriorating!” She started, like a judge, pronouncing his verdict, with lives hanging in the balance.
“Umm..yes!” He said, lying , again.
“Oh, I ‘ll get dressed.”
“Please do, we will leave by 8 positively! I am in that room of mine. Call out to me, if you need me!”
AT THE GROCERY STORE:
“Namaste, sahib! What can I do for you?” The shopkeeper began, with a weird shrewd touch in his voice.
“Do as Madam says!” He replied in an authoritative voice, quelling the shrewdness in the shopkeeper.
His wife handed over the list to the shopkeeper, with a keen eye on the Jeweller’s shop nearby.
In an instant, she left, like the north pole of the magnet is attracted to the south .
The army man, heaved a huge sigh if relief. So did the shopkeeper, apparently.
“Take it from an old army man- I have never been frightened of anything, in my long harsh service of 38 years, except for her!” Pointing towards his short, black haired wife!
“Haha. I have had no trainings and am quite young relatively, but take it from me, in my short married life, i have been afraid of nothing but, My wife” he replied, with an awkward grin.
(“Ready for today, Ajmal? he asked, with a sudden seriousness. “Nervous, are you?”
He didn’t reply, but just with eye contact and body language conveyed to the Brig. well enough -“i am always up for challenges!”)
“Are the groceries ready?” Started a pleasant voice suddenly in the backdrop.
“Yes, madam. There they are! The boy will carry them over to the car!”
Brig. Sodhi handed over the car keys to his wife, and paid the bill, whispering into Ajmal’s ear
“All the best!” and moved on to his car, turning and looking onto Ajmal once, when his phone rang.
“Hello!”
“Namaste Papa. Rahul here!”
“How was your flight? When is your connecting flight?”
“Dad” he started, sounding as if he needed advise,” did you watch the news this morning? Mumbai is under attack. All flights have been grounded.”
“What!!” He acknowledged, not too surprised.
“My motherland stands endangered,dad. I have to return. I have to defend my country. ”
“Yes,son.” He replied, broadening his chest, and holding his head up high! He knew in that instant, that years of his training had succeeded. His son had grown up.
“But, mom?”
“Beta, there are times you have to be steady and choose what’s right over what’s easy. Return and defend your country. As for mom,” he said, with a slight grin and after a deep thought'” MAI HOO NA.” It was the movie Rahul had watched a million times as a child, and had almost all the dialogues, memorised, by heart . It was the film, that had almost, decided his future. This piece of advise, came as music to his ears.
“Thank you, dad.” Was all he said, and hung up. His emotion said everything.
The Brig. was in tears ( yes,a man even as strong as him, physically,emotionally and mentally,cried.) He wiped his tears, and sat into the car, hiding the pain. His wife asked, with a typical accent-“whose call was it? All ok?” He told nothing to his wife.
—————————————————————————————————————————————————
INTERCEPTS OF INDIAN INTELLIGENCE:
“Sallam-e-alikum”
“All set?”
“Yes,commander”
“Are you nervous?”
“Not at all,commander! You have trained us so well. Everything will be fine.”
“May allah be with you! COMMANDER OVER AND OUT”
“Over and out”
—————————————————————————————————————————————————
AT MUMBAI, ARMY STATION;
The state of the station was chaotic. Mumbai was on high alert. His identity card was of great help, getting him past all barricades. The station had security all around. He drove back, directly to his headquarters, returning salutes of shocked people on the way. As soon as he saw his boss, he stiffened. He stood at attention. His muscular hands went up right to his forehead. He gave his hand a slight angle, saluting to his senior. His salute truly was a model to behold. The boss, shocked, returned the salute.
“Maj. Rahul Gupta, reporting sir.”he said.
“what? Impossible? You returned?” He smiled, sheepishly.
“Sir, what would have i done? My country needs me. Also, army is all about ‘SELFLESS SERVICE TO THE NATION’ isn’t it? Besides, I’m sure i shall get leave after war! Wouldn’t I?”
“Off course!I will see you at mission briefing.” The boss walked away, busily.
AT THE BRIEFING ROOM:
The briefing room was a confidential room, within a blast pin, just the way you would expect too see at a station. The words ” AUTHORISED ENTRY ONLY” were on the door, with a fingerprint sensor beside it.
The C.O( commanding officer) began, with a tense, yet calm ,and deep voice.
“The CHIEF of ARMY STAFF, has given me all powers and support, to handle the situation tactfully. ”
All officers in the room, nodded, in recognition and approval to there C.O’s address.
“Mumbai has been under attack since morning.The Taj hotel, standing at exactly 18.9220° N, 72.8334° E is where the activity is apparently the centre of this activity. Besides THE TAJ,
Eight of the attacks occurred in South Mumbai: at Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus, the Oberoi Trident & Tower, Leopold Cafe, Cama Hospital (a women and children’s hospital),the Nariman House Jewish community centre,the Metro Cinema,and in a lane behind the Times of India building and St. Xavier’s College.There was also an explosion at Mazagaon, in Mumbai’s port area, and in a taxi at Vile Parle. The army and NSG shall intervene, if and only if the MUMBAI POLICE are not successful in taking control of the situation. After long debates , we have decided upon the following names for operation BLACK TORNADO: MAJ. S SHARMA, COL. V. RAJU, MAJ. R. GUPTA…
Thats all Rahul heard. His name being called upon for the mission. People around him started congratulating him. To civilians it may seem a stupid, waste of life. But to a patriot -it was an honour. Defending the country was a passion, an achievement of a lifetime.
He couldn’t contact his parents, as jammers had been intercepting, decoding and checking each an ever signal that the station received, and calls to family members would just toughen the task.
28 th NOVEMBER, 2008; inside the BRIEFING ROOM at about 4:00 in the morning;
Only the C.O, Senior officers, and Men chosen for the task, were present.
Briefing began -” MUMBAI POLICE and security forces have managed to secure every location except for The TAJ PALACE. terrorists have entered, one of the several rooms, have disabled CCTV cams, and are holding visitors hostage. This is a very hostile situation, or precisely the one you have been trained for. You will be slithered onto the roof of THE TAJ by INDIAN AIR FORCES’ MI -17 V5 attack helicopter, the best we have . You will be armed with AK 47’s. All of you shall be in direct contact with us, all the time, with these headsets.” He said,holding up a headset.” Your primary objective – exterminate terrorist activity, and get terrorists living or dead. I REPEAT- YOU HAVE LICENSE TOO KILL AND EXTERMINATE ALL TERRORIST ACTIVITY. “He stressed upon these last words.
“That is all about it!”
” On a more more personal note we would like to add- Be proud of what you are going to do today. Emerge victorious!”
Those were the last words of the briefing.
They then, after a full weapons check, with there hearts pounding , boarded the chopper.
AFTER OPERATION BLACK TORNADO; Back at delhi;
“‘Operation Black Tornado’ has flushed out the remaining attackers; and has resulted in the deaths of the last remaining attackers at the Taj hotel and ending all fighting in the attacks. One terrorist (name withheld) has been captured alive. It is with great grief that we have to report that these attacks on MUMBAI, Now being called the 26/11, have also killed 164 people and wounded atleast 308. These attacks from 26 november to 29 november Have also lead to the martyring of several members of our forces. These brave-hearts include: Maj. Rahul Gupta, Maj. S. Sharma amongst others. Our hearts go out to the families of these patriots.” Urmila shut the T.V. Extremely shocked.
“Jasbir..jasbir.. What is this happening? They used Rahul s name in the martyred list? Jabir what is going on? We have no information, on our sons’ whereabouts’. And now, his name is taken in the martyred list !”. Her eyes seemed wet. All her hair were coming onto her face.
The brig. said nothing,at first, with wrinkles covering his face.
He then, began-” Urmila- Rahul had called. Umm, when we were leaving the grocery store!”. The bell rang, interrupting them. Urmila ran to the door. She, after a minutes’ pause, wiping her eyes, and putting her hair back in place, opened the door. She saw two Army men, holding a trunk, with the name ‘MAJ RAHUL GUPTA’ on the front side, in bold letters.
At first, she couldn’t understand a thing. Her eyes closed and she lost control, and collapsed. The army men, with evasive reflexes, dropped the trunk, and held the elderly woman, preventing a fall, that may have resulted in damage. They walked in, leaving the door open, and safely dropped the lady, onto the old sofa. Brig. Sodhi, knowing everything and also watching the sequence of events, ran out from the door.
While it was a tragic and sad time for the family, it was an inexplicably weird situation for the two men. So here they were, at Delhi, flown in from Mumbai, with the lady of the house unconscious, the husband, missing, and the son, martyred. The men then, tried to bring back consciousness to the lady.
One of the men, said to the other – ” this is the toughest part. Breaking the news to the family!”
The lady, regained consciousness. She began ,in a low, ill voice -“is this all some kind of joke? What s all happening? Where s Jasbir? I told him the forces are losing there charm!”
“Ma’am, keeping a stone on our hearts, with great grievance and resentment, we have to tell you, your son MAJ. RAHUL GUPTA has lost his life, in OPERATION TORNADO. ”
The lady, not believing a word, called for her husband. ” this is a serious matter. My son, has what? You will pay for this!”. She gave funny expressions.
“Ma’am, an old man went running out of the door, probably with a pistol. We thought helping you was more important than stopping a running maniac.,”the men replied, with slight,confused grins.
“Is this some kind of joke? First you tell me, my son is dead. Next, my husband ran out of his own house?”
“Ma’am, we understand this is an indeed tough time for you, however, you need to be strong.”
“Would you take the pain to explain to me, what is happening?”she replied.
The men explained to the lady, in great detail,about how her son returned and was martyred. They also informed her,that his name had been forwarded for the The highest wartime gallantry award -THE PARAM VIR CHAKRA.
The lady, still couldn’t believe anything. Continuos,unstopping tears flowed from her eyes. She fell onto the ground, lamenting and wailing!
The men left, leaving the lady all alone , talking amongst themselves;
“What do we do about the man?”
“Umm..just ignore it! This seems like a madhouse!”
LETTER FROM YAMUNA MOTOR WORKS TO THE C.B.I , INDIAN INTELLIGENCE AND ARMY:
To whoever it may conern,
“The romantic idea of concealing a secret in a bottle, and throwing it into the open sea, to flow with the waves, always fascinated me. It is by a mere stroke of luck, that your secret be revealed or it be concealed for ever and ever. I personally always had this ‘PATRIOTIC OUTLOOK’ to serve my nation, selflessly. But, I too was fair to myself, and also always wanted to avenge myself and , why not say my family! This idea always gave me peace of mind, and it further, became my purpose in life, to achieve both of these targets. The former, I achieved, by serving the nation, for long, long years.
However, I soon learnt, that even after these long years of services, all that the country returns to you , is ABSOLUTELY NOTHING, except a harsh, tough life with a minimal pension. Thus, to achieve the latter target, after retirement in 1991 ,after long years of planning and savings, I managed to form my own terrorist organisation, in a small room or my command center, the LASKAR-e-TAIBAN OR LeT. It took 17 long years to plan, train and execute a brilliant terrorist attack, to quench my thirst of revenge.
The question may arise,put in simple terms- ‘revenge for what?’
Well, the answer lies in what happened in the past, back as long as to the midnight of 15th august 1947. My father being a freedom fighter, and a fierce, fierce supporter of the Mahatma, all he wanted was a un -divided, united INDIA. But, the others had there way. My father was asked to leave the country,or face dire consequences. The easiest solution he could find was, ‘suicide’. We were truly shattered. If all this wasn’t enough, My mother fell prey to the evil practices of society back then, SATI. All that I ever wanted, from that moment on, was one simple thing REVENGE.
I never found the forces of India, worthy enough to crack the case, or even capture alive the terrorists I had trained so well.
Everything had been planned perfectly, to the extent of getting my son safely away from Mumbai. This is where things went wrong. I underestimated my son to be a coward, rather than a patriot as he finally emerged. I had to face the difficult choice, of my dream against that of my son, when he called me. It was always going to be my dream. In fact, the terrorist being caught, AJMAL KASAB, too was a part of the plan.
With this guilt I could no longer live, and hence, unless you read this revelation, you would find nothing but the body of an old army Brig. ,Shot in the head with a vintage army pistol, and an unsolved TERRORIST MYSTERY.
His long white moustache that he raised at the ends, complimented his strong ,sturdy and tough body perfectly. His face had freckles, and seemed as dried as raisin. All his hair had turned white, over years of hard work, both at his office as well as at training his son, to be an officer, just like him.
He turned to his watch, and called out to his wife, “Urmila..Urmila.. You are so incorrigible. You went back to sleep? Besides its time for my tea!”. His wife emerged from the room, replying modestly with a cribb, almost bumping into the beautiful Vintage gun collection of the Brigadier, dropping the pistol he valued most- -” Oh, I was freshening up! You husbands are always ready to comment. I have woken up at 4:00 each day for you, from the past 25 years. Haven’t I?”
“Yes” he replied, while a totally different answer played in his head.
“Oh, yes, by the way, ask your maid to stop entering that room of mine. She was there again. I have lost count of many times have I told her!”he shouted across to the kitchen, where his wife was making tea.
“Yes, but what I can do, except telling her?.
“Alright “he nodded. Rahul is returning today! Be ready by 8. Umm.. We ll get the groceries. He will be calling up,when he reaches the connecting flight!”the Brig. said trying to change the topic.
“Ah..yes yes. He is finally returning, after two long years. Finally he has managed to get leave. He might have forgotten our faces, i think! His boss, he is so domineering and weird. I never liked him. He is so strict with leaves!” with great emotion and a crack in her voice, she replied.
” That is how bosses are supposed to be. He is not “weird” but a true patriot”, he said, in response , falling back to his days.
“The forces are losing there charm, don’t you think? With the advancement in technology, the values are deteriorating!” She started, like a judge, pronouncing his verdict, with lives hanging in the balance.
“Umm..yes!” He said, lying , again.
“Oh, I ‘ll get dressed.”
“Please do, we will leave by 8 positively! I am in that room of mine. Call out to me, if you need me!”
AT THE GROCERY STORE:
“Namaste, sahib! What can I do for you?” The shopkeeper began, with a weird shrewd touch in his voice.
“Do as Madam says!” He replied in an authoritative voice, quelling the shrewdness in the shopkeeper.
His wife handed over the list to the shopkeeper, with a keen eye on the Jeweller’s shop nearby.
In an instant, she left, like the north pole of the magnet is attracted to the south .
The army man, heaved a huge sigh if relief. So did the shopkeeper, apparently.
“Take it from an old army man- I have never been frightened of anything, in my long harsh service of 38 years, except for her!” Pointing towards his short, black haired wife!
“Haha. I have had no trainings and am quite young relatively, but take it from me, in my short married life, i have been afraid of nothing but, My wife” he replied, with an awkward grin.
(“Ready for today, Ajmal? he asked, with a sudden seriousness. “Nervous, are you?”
He didn’t reply, but just with eye contact and body language conveyed to the Brig. well enough -“i am always up for challenges!”)
“Are the groceries ready?” Started a pleasant voice suddenly in the backdrop.
“Yes, madam. There they are! The boy will carry them over to the car!”
Brig. Sodhi handed over the car keys to his wife, and paid the bill, whispering into Ajmal’s ear
“All the best!” and moved on to his car, turning and looking onto Ajmal once, when his phone rang.
“Hello!”
“Namaste Papa. Rahul here!”
“How was your flight? When is your connecting flight?”
“Dad” he started, sounding as if he needed advise,” did you watch the news this morning? Mumbai is under attack. All flights have been grounded.”
“What!!” He acknowledged, not too surprised.
“My motherland stands endangered,dad. I have to return. I have to defend my country. ”
“Yes,son.” He replied, broadening his chest, and holding his head up high! He knew in that instant, that years of his training had succeeded. His son had grown up.
“But, mom?”
“Beta, there are times you have to be steady and choose what’s right over what’s easy. Return and defend your country. As for mom,” he said, with a slight grin and after a deep thought'” MAI HOO NA.” It was the movie Rahul had watched a million times as a child, and had almost all the dialogues, memorised, by heart . It was the film, that had almost, decided his future. This piece of advise, came as music to his ears.
“Thank you, dad.” Was all he said, and hung up. His emotion said everything.
The Brig. was in tears ( yes,a man even as strong as him, physically,emotionally and mentally,cried.) He wiped his tears, and sat into the car, hiding the pain. His wife asked, with a typical accent-“whose call was it? All ok?” He told nothing to his wife.
—————————————————————————————————————————————————
INTERCEPTS OF INDIAN INTELLIGENCE:
“Sallam-e-alikum”
“All set?”
“Yes,commander”
“Are you nervous?”
“Not at all,commander! You have trained us so well. Everything will be fine.”
“May allah be with you! COMMANDER OVER AND OUT”
“Over and out”
—————————————————————————————————————————————————
AT MUMBAI, ARMY STATION;
The state of the station was chaotic. Mumbai was on high alert. His identity card was of great help, getting him past all barricades. The station had security all around. He drove back, directly to his headquarters, returning salutes of shocked people on the way. As soon as he saw his boss, he stiffened. He stood at attention. His muscular hands went up right to his forehead. He gave his hand a slight angle, saluting to his senior. His salute truly was a model to behold. The boss, shocked, returned the salute.
“Maj. Rahul Gupta, reporting sir.”he said.
“what? Impossible? You returned?” He smiled, sheepishly.
“Sir, what would have i done? My country needs me. Also, army is all about ‘SELFLESS SERVICE TO THE NATION’ isn’t it? Besides, I’m sure i shall get leave after war! Wouldn’t I?”
“Off course!I will see you at mission briefing.” The boss walked away, busily.
AT THE BRIEFING ROOM:
The briefing room was a confidential room, within a blast pin, just the way you would expect too see at a station. The words ” AUTHORISED ENTRY ONLY” were on the door, with a fingerprint sensor beside it.
The C.O( commanding officer) began, with a tense, yet calm ,and deep voice.
“The CHIEF of ARMY STAFF, has given me all powers and support, to handle the situation tactfully. ”
All officers in the room, nodded, in recognition and approval to there C.O’s address.
“Mumbai has been under attack since morning.The Taj hotel, standing at exactly 18.9220° N, 72.8334° E is where the activity is apparently the centre of this activity. Besides THE TAJ,
Eight of the attacks occurred in South Mumbai: at Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus, the Oberoi Trident & Tower, Leopold Cafe, Cama Hospital (a women and children’s hospital),the Nariman House Jewish community centre,the Metro Cinema,and in a lane behind the Times of India building and St. Xavier’s College.There was also an explosion at Mazagaon, in Mumbai’s port area, and in a taxi at Vile Parle. The army and NSG shall intervene, if and only if the MUMBAI POLICE are not successful in taking control of the situation. After long debates , we have decided upon the following names for operation BLACK TORNADO: MAJ. S SHARMA, COL. V. RAJU, MAJ. R. GUPTA…
Thats all Rahul heard. His name being called upon for the mission. People around him started congratulating him. To civilians it may seem a stupid, waste of life. But to a patriot -it was an honour. Defending the country was a passion, an achievement of a lifetime.
He couldn’t contact his parents, as jammers had been intercepting, decoding and checking each an ever signal that the station received, and calls to family members would just toughen the task.
28 th NOVEMBER, 2008; inside the BRIEFING ROOM at about 4:00 in the morning;
Only the C.O, Senior officers, and Men chosen for the task, were present.
Briefing began -” MUMBAI POLICE and security forces have managed to secure every location except for The TAJ PALACE. terrorists have entered, one of the several rooms, have disabled CCTV cams, and are holding visitors hostage. This is a very hostile situation, or precisely the one you have been trained for. You will be slithered onto the roof of THE TAJ by INDIAN AIR FORCES’ MI -17 V5 attack helicopter, the best we have . You will be armed with AK 47’s. All of you shall be in direct contact with us, all the time, with these headsets.” He said,holding up a headset.” Your primary objective – exterminate terrorist activity, and get terrorists living or dead. I REPEAT- YOU HAVE LICENSE TOO KILL AND EXTERMINATE ALL TERRORIST ACTIVITY. “He stressed upon these last words.
“That is all about it!”
” On a more more personal note we would like to add- Be proud of what you are going to do today. Emerge victorious!”
Those were the last words of the briefing.
They then, after a full weapons check, with there hearts pounding , boarded the chopper.
AFTER OPERATION BLACK TORNADO; Back at delhi;
“‘Operation Black Tornado’ has flushed out the remaining attackers; and has resulted in the deaths of the last remaining attackers at the Taj hotel and ending all fighting in the attacks. One terrorist (name withheld) has been captured alive. It is with great grief that we have to report that these attacks on MUMBAI, Now being called the 26/11, have also killed 164 people and wounded atleast 308. These attacks from 26 november to 29 november Have also lead to the martyring of several members of our forces. These brave-hearts include: Maj. Rahul Gupta, Maj. S. Sharma amongst others. Our hearts go out to the families of these patriots.” Urmila shut the T.V. Extremely shocked.
“Jasbir..jasbir.. What is this happening? They used Rahul s name in the martyred list? Jabir what is going on? We have no information, on our sons’ whereabouts’. And now, his name is taken in the martyred list !”. Her eyes seemed wet. All her hair were coming onto her face.
The brig. said nothing,at first, with wrinkles covering his face.
He then, began-” Urmila- Rahul had called. Umm, when we were leaving the grocery store!”. The bell rang, interrupting them. Urmila ran to the door. She, after a minutes’ pause, wiping her eyes, and putting her hair back in place, opened the door. She saw two Army men, holding a trunk, with the name ‘MAJ RAHUL GUPTA’ on the front side, in bold letters.
At first, she couldn’t understand a thing. Her eyes closed and she lost control, and collapsed. The army men, with evasive reflexes, dropped the trunk, and held the elderly woman, preventing a fall, that may have resulted in damage. They walked in, leaving the door open, and safely dropped the lady, onto the old sofa. Brig. Sodhi, knowing everything and also watching the sequence of events, ran out from the door.
While it was a tragic and sad time for the family, it was an inexplicably weird situation for the two men. So here they were, at Delhi, flown in from Mumbai, with the lady of the house unconscious, the husband, missing, and the son, martyred. The men then, tried to bring back consciousness to the lady.
One of the men, said to the other – ” this is the toughest part. Breaking the news to the family!”
The lady, regained consciousness. She began ,in a low, ill voice -“is this all some kind of joke? What s all happening? Where s Jasbir? I told him the forces are losing there charm!”
“Ma’am, keeping a stone on our hearts, with great grievance and resentment, we have to tell you, your son MAJ. RAHUL GUPTA has lost his life, in OPERATION TORNADO. ”
The lady, not believing a word, called for her husband. ” this is a serious matter. My son, has what? You will pay for this!”. She gave funny expressions.
“Ma’am, an old man went running out of the door, probably with a pistol. We thought helping you was more important than stopping a running maniac.,”the men replied, with slight,confused grins.
“Is this some kind of joke? First you tell me, my son is dead. Next, my husband ran out of his own house?”
“Ma’am, we understand this is an indeed tough time for you, however, you need to be strong.”
“Would you take the pain to explain to me, what is happening?”she replied.
The men explained to the lady, in great detail,about how her son returned and was martyred. They also informed her,that his name had been forwarded for the The highest wartime gallantry award -THE PARAM VIR CHAKRA.
The lady, still couldn’t believe anything. Continuos,unstopping tears flowed from her eyes. She fell onto the ground, lamenting and wailing!
The men left, leaving the lady all alone , talking amongst themselves;
“What do we do about the man?”
“Umm..just ignore it! This seems like a madhouse!”
LETTER FROM YAMUNA MOTOR WORKS TO THE C.B.I , INDIAN INTELLIGENCE AND ARMY:
To whoever it may conern,
“The romantic idea of concealing a secret in a bottle, and throwing it into the open sea, to flow with the waves, always fascinated me. It is by a mere stroke of luck, that your secret be revealed or it be concealed for ever and ever. I personally always had this ‘PATRIOTIC OUTLOOK’ to serve my nation, selflessly. But, I too was fair to myself, and also always wanted to avenge myself and , why not say my family! This idea always gave me peace of mind, and it further, became my purpose in life, to achieve both of these targets. The former, I achieved, by serving the nation, for long, long years.
However, I soon learnt, that even after these long years of services, all that the country returns to you , is ABSOLUTELY NOTHING, except a harsh, tough life with a minimal pension. Thus, to achieve the latter target, after retirement in 1991 ,after long years of planning and savings, I managed to form my own terrorist organisation, in a small room or my command center, the LASKAR-e-TAIBAN OR LeT. It took 17 long years to plan, train and execute a brilliant terrorist attack, to quench my thirst of revenge.
The question may arise,put in simple terms- ‘revenge for what?’
Well, the answer lies in what happened in the past, back as long as to the midnight of 15th august 1947. My father being a freedom fighter, and a fierce, fierce supporter of the Mahatma, all he wanted was a un -divided, united INDIA. But, the others had there way. My father was asked to leave the country,or face dire consequences. The easiest solution he could find was, ‘suicide’. We were truly shattered. If all this wasn’t enough, My mother fell prey to the evil practices of society back then, SATI. All that I ever wanted, from that moment on, was one simple thing REVENGE.
I never found the forces of India, worthy enough to crack the case, or even capture alive the terrorists I had trained so well.
Everything had been planned perfectly, to the extent of getting my son safely away from Mumbai. This is where things went wrong. I underestimated my son to be a coward, rather than a patriot as he finally emerged. I had to face the difficult choice, of my dream against that of my son, when he called me. It was always going to be my dream. In fact, the terrorist being caught, AJMAL KASAB, too was a part of the plan.
With this guilt I could no longer live, and hence, unless you read this revelation, you would find nothing but the body of an old army Brig. ,Shot in the head with a vintage army pistol, and an unsolved TERRORIST MYSTERY.
Brig. Sodhi
MAJ. RAHUL GUPTA WAS POSTHUMOUSLY AWARDED THE PARAM VIR CHAKRA.
THE ATTACKS OF 26 November 2008, on Mumbai made INDIA nothing but stronger.
THE END
Sharks
Written By – AYUSH PRATAP Age – 14 years
A student of FIND YOUR VOICE course by creativeHAppiness
Sharks
It was 2011 and I was in Cape Town in South Africa. I had decided to go deep sea diving and shark watching where you go underwater in a cage with sharks all around. Even though I was a bit afraid of sharks, I decided to do it.
The day finally came when I was all ready in scuba diving gear and was about to go in the cage along with an instructor. I noticed that the lock was a bit loose.
“Ummmm ummm umm um uummmm!” I said the mouthpiece still in.
“What?” he asked.
“The lock is a little loose.” I said while pointing towards the lock.
“Oh don’t you worry sir, its tight enough.” He assured me.
I thought that he was right as he was a professional and must know what he was talking about.
We went in the cage and started to go underwater. At first we saw the scenic corals and the picturesque blue water.
Soon we went further down and the water became darker and frightening. After another 50 meters or so, we stopped and the instructor threw a chunk of meat outside the cage.
Suddenly, out of nowhere a group of sharks came out of the dark waters and ate the meat.
The fish were humongous and must have been about the size of a school bus. They were dark grey in colour with razor sharp teeth that could tear a human into pieces within seconds.
The sharks were still hovering around the cage and clearly wanted more. However, there was overly greedy shark who so close to the cage that I could feel its sharp odour.
The instructor threw another chunk out which grazed the lock a bit.
The overly greedy shark hit the lock with its teeth and instantly it gave away. A cold shiver went through my spine. I panicked and for the first time in my life realised how deadly a shark could be.
I tried to keep calm and think how to save myself but when you are with hungry sharks, you don’t give a damn about calm.
I knew I was not a good swimmer and couldn’t outswim them. The instructor panicked and tried to swim out of the cage but the sharks were no fools and instantly tore him into pieces. The water turned red with blood. I realised that I was soaked in cold sweat.
One shark tried to get in but was too big and got stuck mid-way. My only escape route was blocked and I had to think of other ways. I took the instructor’s oxygen cylinder and bashed it as hard as I could on the shark’s head. The shark cried with agony and got out of the cage.
I quickly closed the cage door but I was no match for them. This time the door opened towards the outside and I was halfway out of the cage.
As I was trying to get back inside the cage, one of the sharks bit my right arm off.
A sharp pain shot through me and it felt like being shot 100 times. Blood spurted all around and I could see the sharks fighting for my flesh.
I started to black out and crashed into the cage’s bar. I struggled to get in with whatever energy was left in me. I slowly got in but was still feeling drowsy.
I crashed into the bars again and slowly sank to the bottom of the cage and blacked out with the sharks still hovering outside the cage.
Luckily for me, the instructor on the beach who had lowered us down in the cage felt the tugs on the cage and then saw the red water. He immediately pulled the cage up.
When I regained consciousness, I was lying on a hospital bed with bandages around my left arm. The doctor gave me a newspaper and I saw that I was on the cover page. I felt proud of myself for facing my fear and that too so courageously.
Shades
WRITER – Pranav Agarwal AGE – 13 years Student of FIND YOUR VOICE by creativeHappiness
—————————————————————————————————————————
On a fine and sunny, supine sunday morning, somewhere in New Delhi, India……. :
Daren, who had faded to sleep late at night, playing Xbox all night to savour the rare long weekend he got , was startled by a ring on his mobile. All of a sudden the device rose to life. He looked up at his mobile,hung up, and then hid his head beneath the pillow, annoyed. The pillow was wet and goey ,he had drooled! The phone rang again, this time irritated further,he rolled lethargically like a sleepy student, in the middle of his classes from side to side on the bed, creating a fuss and mumbled to himself- “Arhgg…i hate this. I always did!!”.
“Morning.” The sweet, pleasant voice came to him as a teacher’s grunt, awakening the sleepy student!
“Who is this, please?” He replied, yawning!
“Guess who, it’s me again!”
“Whoa..wait.no..impossible..Jane?!” He replied, emphatically, giving color to his dull face as he sat up, startled.
“You remember more than I imagined! Long long time, huh?” With sound of honking and people shouting in the setting.
“Uh..Jane,its been 3 yrs. 37 days to be precise. I have thought about you each passing day. I have prayed for your well being….”
“Can you meet me?!” She exclaimed,interrupting, cutting him short.
” I tried to reach you”he started again, but was again cut short in a queer manner.
“Umm..Is C.C.D, vasant kunj fine with you?”Daren guessed ” she was definitely with someone, pushing her to hurry.” As she was always pleasant and patient .
“Yup, surely. I’ll be there!”, he replied, now writing down the details On the blank note sheets on his bedside.
“Be there at 12:00.Don’t be late, like always!” Said the voice, modestly, with some emotion,and hung up.
Daren rose from bed,in a hurried manner, with the words ‘ Don’t be late’ playing in his head. with rejoice and jubilation,smiling like he never had in the past three years, he sprang to get dressed Singing and dancing to himself. He walked up to the bathroom with haste, picked up his best clothing ,almost ruining his otherwise well-kept wardrobe, with all clothes neatly kept. After a good bathe, he looked towards himself in the mirror, adopting a hairstyle that made him look stylish and modern, balancing the otherwise cute, pink-cheeked face. He sprayed on himself a wonderful fragrance, the best he had! He put on himself, a non-classical, fashionable ARMANI leather jacket, to rebuff the mild chill that had set in. He picked up his keys, nearly dropping them for the third time. The young handsome man had virtually lost count of the items he dropped, as though he had forgotten everything, and why wouldn’t he? He was,after all, going to meet the girl he had missed so much. He walked past the gangway, debating with himself, if he should put on the hat, to compliment the jacket, and eventually decided against it. He gave strong, fast kicks to his bike. The kicks had energy like that of an ill man, on death bed, who had got the lease of life, a chance to live again, possessed. “Why isn’t the damn bike taking off..uh starting?” He thought to himself, giving an annoyed bang to the bike. Suddenly, a voice from the background reminded him –
“Don’t forget these keys, babu!”. It was the old maid.
“What I dropped them? It wasn’t in the bike all the time? Oops!!”,He replied, with an embarrassed smile. “I must have dropped them whilst in the kitchen. Whats happening to me? Oh, never mind”, he thought to himself.
” Wha…wha..what is different today, ba..ba.babu? you didn’t even..uhh..notice me today! Wha..wha.what shall I cook?”she asked stammering and stumbling over words.
“You just give me the keys, go home and stop troubling me!”
“Ok, ba..ba..babu” she replied, giving him the keys, and swiftly moving inside,without another word, shrewdly grabbing the opportunity.
“Oh, what did i just say. Forget it now, and move on!” He thought to himself.
He inserted his keys, and gave a strong kick, starting the engine without any sound. Daren rushed out of his garden, even bumping into a pot, but paying no attention continued his journey, full throttle!
“Damn. Would I reach in time? I hope I wont hit the rush hour! The vasant kunj road especially ! Uh.. Please no traffic today!”, he maundered to himself.
He arrived at the cafe, just in time. The cool ambiance of the cafe, felt nice, after the unexpected scorching sun.
He took his table just beside a young-muscular man, who was playing music in his ears!
“Office employees”,he thought,”he shall leave soon.” Probably here for a break. He shan’t be a problem”, he thought.
Soon, Jane walked in. Daren stood up , formally like gentlemen do, and just as he looked at her, he remembered, it all started coming back to him:
‘Daren entered late at night, stumbling over the pot jane had bought. He interpreted the deep red, angry eyes of Jane on the couch, and her modest attitude, neglecting his presence.
“Damn Jane, i just went out with friends. What is wrong with that?”, and walked up to the couch and then took a few steps back, hesitatingly.
At first she said nothing, noiselessly ignoring him, pretending to look on the screen of her mobile.
“Put that phone away, now, and talk to me!”he said in a deep, mad , domineering voice, asserting his will over her’s.
“Excuse me, I’m nor your puppet. Besides, going out with friends,and staying there till late, is alright? If not this, you’re at office, working! So what am I in your life. What of me?” She moaned and said all this in a different voice, like debaters do, to pull down there opponents.
“Why are you feeling so insecure? What’s wrong with nigh outs?”. Daren shrugged.
Jane just turned on her back, looked away, and pretended to sleep, on the couch.
Daren too walked away, giving an awkward droop to his shoulder. He entered his bedroom, stomping, and just jumped into bed.
He tried every remedy and position to fall asleep, but there he was, tossing and turing in bed, hour after hour, waiting for sleep to come. The harder he tried, the more it got pushed away.
Next morning, with eyes as red as a cricket ball, tired with sleeplessness he looked outside, to find an empty couch.
“Jane….Jane.where are you?”, his eyes now rolling from side to side, for the mere sight of the girl he loved, who was nowhere to be found.
He walked up to the dining table, looked everywhere for Jane but found her nowhere. Instead, he discovered a note. The handwriting was beautiful, and elegant just as Jane’s. He found it beneath a rose from the vase, he had bought her.
“What is it wet with her tears? Did she cry?” He thought to himself.
The note read:
‘Dear Daren,
This relationship isn’t working. I have tried long and hard to maintain it, but found only myself in it. I’m myself don’t know where I shall end up. Don’t ever try to look for me…
Love now and always.
Jane’
Tears began to flow from his red eyes , ruining the ‘love now and always’. He could do nothing but cry over it.’
“Hi” said Jane, breaking Daren’s chain of thoughts.
“Hey!” He replied, as they both sat down. Daren called for the waiter.
“How have you been!?”started Jane.
The waiter interrupted them and asked -” What can i get you, sir?”
“Umm..get me a lattè he said pointing towards the menu.”
“And madam, anything for you?”
“Uh..get me a cappuccino, a mayonnaise sandwich, with a choco lava cake.” She replied instantly, without even looking at the menu,as if she had been there often!
“Anything else?”the waiter asked, slightly taken aback.
“No, nothing Manish” Said daren, looking at the name badge of the waiter.
“Just bring everything quick!” Jane told the waiter, as daren observed a different jane.
The waiter hurried off, after thanking them for the order.
“I missed you.” Started Daren. ” i thought about you day and night, I had sleepless nights. I prayed for your well being! Can we get back together?” He asked politely, trying to look as polite as possible.
And then, all of a sudden a deep, voice from the background spoke, angrily-” NEVER IN YOUR WILDEST DREAMS!”
“What the hell.. Who are you supposed to be?” He shouted, looking at Jane.
Jane looked towards the floor. It seemed her eyes were filled with tears, that came dropping down like crystals, or as they seemed to Daren.
“I told you not to but in, didn’t I?” Screamed Jane at the young, muscular man.
“I couldn’t see this happening, Jane. How could I?”
Daren, said trying to make sense of it all, “So brought me here to meet your new boyfriend? How could you, Jane. How could you? You betrayed me! One can always count upon people like you. You fell to the level of jealousy?” ,as a tear drop rolled down his cheeks, onto his Armani jacket.
“Fiancé”, Jane corrected him.
Daren’s heartbeat stopped. He stood there, unable to believe what was happening. His face lost all expression. His eyes closed, and he dropped back into his seat, probably unconscious.
Meanwhile the waiter came in with the food-” Now whose up for some food, just as you like it!” ,and then noticed Daren’s eyes shut!
“Oh alright,sir, whenever it’s the right time!” He said, sarcastically, trying to be humorous.
Just then, the muscular man waved him to leave. Understanding the gravity of the situation, the waiter left, without another word.
Just then, Daren’s eyes opened. Jane gasped and began, crying now, ” I’m so sorry Daren. I never meant too. This is my fiancé, Tom. He was there for me, which you never were. And hence, I’m here, to invite to my wedding, as she placed the wedding card, on the table.”
Daren looked at the card, then into her eyes, and then just turned back and started walking,bumping into a table. It was as if he had been transported to another world. A world where he had no place for trust, love or believe…
THE VOICE - BOLD & BEAUTIFUL 