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Bengaluru, Karnataka, India
hi! This BLOG is a collection of short stories authored by me. I'm new to writing and take it as a means to explore the ungiven. I hope you enjoy the stories and look forward to your comments, queries and/or criticisms. Enjoy! :)

Saturday, June 18, 2011

A Magical Religion

“ Sir, Crime Branch is here.”, said the short but stouted hawaldar of Bombay Police. Yes, it was bombay then- 1980!

“ How can I help you?”, asked Inspector Aditya, a thin man with a healthy beard around the chin and a long face.

“ I'm Ravi Saxena, Mumbai Crime Branch.”, said the other with the rolicking eye smearing the place. His bold arrogant jaw and the high bridged nose made him look ferocious and deadly.

“ Yes sir. I was told that you would come here, on the crime scene. We checked with the details. We got the body out of the water about an hour ago. He was shot four times in the chest. It seemed a close range shot with a 9mm pistol. Reports still awaiting.” , said the inspector.

“ Any luck on the person. Who he was? His name? Profession?”, asked the detective from crime branch.

“ We've got sketchy details. His name is claimed to be Frank and it is said that he was a street magician by profession. He used to do a lot of card tricks. Entertaining people was what gave him happiness. No family except a girlfriend living in Malad. Police are en route to her house as we speak. All these details are just the primary investigation. They need to be confirmed. “, he said and looking over the skyline at marine drive. Cloudy, Blue sky with the sun shining bright in the afternoon. The glory of it all was common for them-an everyday phenomenon. but for tourists it was magical.

The detective nodded , “ Okay, i'll take over- get the forensic reports as soon as possible. We need to uncover the......”

He couldn't complete because the inspector's wireless rang. The Police team had reached the girlfriend's house in Malad. The girl was dead. She had been shot by a 9mm too, in the same manner- 4 times in the chest.

“ Dont touch anything- we'll be there.”, said the inspector.

The detective and the inspector jumped in the Sparkling White gypsy and left immediately for Malad.

They reached there . It was a 3 storeyed building. Each floor had 2 houses. The girl lived on the second floor.

They entered the house. Everything was where it should be. It didn't look like a robbery. No sign of any kind of fight or resistance by the girl. It seemed as if the killer knew the girl.

Detective Ravi's phone rang. He went out, attended the call and came back inside. He called for the inspector and signaled him to come at aside so that he could speak to him in person.

“ Inspector- Get the forensic examinations done, verify the calls on the girl's phone. Match the number's on her phone and Frank's phone and see if you can get something. Also, there has been another call to the crime branch about another murder. I have to head to the crime scene. The body is said to be in a van outside the Malad police station. This is all planned. The killer knew we were going to come here and so he killed the girl and then he put the body outside the Malad police station only. I need your car.”

“ Sure sir. Let me know if uo need anything.”, said the inspector.

The Detective rushed to the police station. The body was removed from the van. Same thing. 9mm beretta. Close range. 4 bullets in the chest.

“ Whats the update?” , the detective asked the inspector on the scene- Kartik.

“ Sir! His name was Alfred. No family. He had a friend here in Bombay and he lived with that friend.”, said Kartik.

“ What was he doing here? Studying?”, asked the detective.

“ No Sir. He is claimed to be a magician.”, said Kartik.

“Magician?”, replied the Detective in a very instinctive tone. Very unexpected to hear that word.

Why would somebody want to kill magicians, he thought. It is very unbecoming to kill people who entertain others. They use normal printed, spotted face cards and just create amazing things out of it. They make people happy, render them speechless. They create an aura of bliss and spellbound craziness amongst the people they face. Why would somebody want to kill them? What would they hold against magicians? It is simply not worth it, or is it?

“ Okay. Do a little more detailing and let me know. Where does his friend live? I'm pretty sure he is dead by now but anyways- his house address?”, asked the detective.

“ It is in Santa Cruz. 313, Dream Queen building.”, said the inspector.

The detective went alone- he thought if he took a police team- it will take more time.

He reached Dream queen and climbed to the 13th floor. It was dingy. He found 313. He removed his gun and loaded it. The click of the bullet entering the chamber was rather loud. Sweat was every where. He didn't want to see another body. He held the gun firmly and rang the bell of the house.

To his surprise, somebody shouted, “ Coming. One minute.”

He quickly put the gun inside at the back. And hid it under his shirt.


“ Yes. Who is that ?”, said the well groomed man in a white shirt and creased trousers as if ready to go somewhere.

“ Detective Ravi. Crime branch. Can I come in?”

He was offered a glass of water as he sat on the sofa. It was a 2 bedroom flat. As he looked around he observed that 1 room was locked and the other was messy.

“ So- how come in my apartment, sir? Any problems?”

“ yes- Mr.....?”, said the detective.

“ Suraj, sir”

“ yes- Mr. Suraj- we've got to know that a person called Alfred lives in your apartment.”

“ Sure sir. He does. He originally belongs to England, sir, but has come here for a show. He is a magician, sir-performs tricks. “

“Mr. suraj- We had got a phone call about a murder. And when we enquired- i'm sorry to say- Mr. Alfred was the victim. Details are yet to be clear. I can't tell you more but right now I need you to do 2 things. Firstly, open the locked bedroom and secondly, give me any and all details that you have about tonight's show.”

“ I woke up late in the morning and Alfred had already left for practice. I didn't lock the door, Alfred did. You'd have to brake it, sir as I don't have the keys. And i'll get you the details of the show- it is scheduled to start at 8. I have the pamphlet. “ , said Suraj

Ravi was in this business for a long time. he knew who to believe. He believed Suraj.

As Suraj turned to get the pamphlet, Detective got up and gave a few kicks to the door of Alfred's room and then finally opened it with the push of a shoulder.

The room was clean. None of Alfred's belongings were there.

“ Alfred had a late night flight after the show tonight. And so he preferred to take his stuff, I believe. I have no idea what happened. “, said Suraj with exponential disbelief and disgrace.

Suraj handed over the pamphlet to the Detective. It was happening at a hall in IC colony, to the south of Borivalli at 8 tonight. It had 6 magicians. All of them were well known over the world. Frank O'ralph, Alfred Keisher, Sigmund Butler, Stephanie Clemenses, Fryms E'llyses and Davip Cooper. Frank, Alfred and Sigmund and Stephanie were Americans. Fryms was French and David was English.

As the Detective was looking at the pamphlet, the Inspector working on the previous murder- Inspector Aditya called,

“Sir- the girlfriend of Frank was an American female. Her name was Stephanie and she was also a magician. She was killed in the same way as Frank. Any results, sir? Can I help with the second murder?”

Detective Ravi thought to himself for a while and then something struck him- Alfred, Stephanie and Frank were Americans- and by that logic the only one left is Sigmund. It was 5 o'clock then, show started at about 8. The Detective thought- somebody was killing the Americans. The reason was unclear but that was the only lead he had. He told Inspector Aditya to go to the organizers of the show- the address of which he read out from the pamphlet and get Sigmund's address. His premonition was that Sigmund would be murdered if he already isn't.

The detective went to his car and sat back. Trying to link the 3 murders. He thought why would someone kill magicians who were Americans? The show was happening at IC colony- Immaculate Church Colony. Was their being Christians related to this? But why would somebody kill Christians. Hindus and Muslims can be thought of. But this was very unusual.

His thinking yielded no luck. He had no idea. His eyes were in utter dismay and delirium. He felt Heavy weighted as if he had a neuropathic syndrome. He wanted the day to end. An image of Sigmund kept flashing in front of him and he felt helpless not to be able to save the smile on the face. And then Inspector Aditya called,

“ Sir, he is living in hotel Renaissance. Stephanie and Frank were staying in Bombay in that flat and Alfred opted to stay with his friend. The rest of the magicians including Sigmund are in Renaissance on Juhu.”

The detective rushed to Juhu, dodging the traffic with the best of his abilities. He thought if another magician died, it will end Mumbai's magic realm and he wondered how it would affect public. But, more than that these were magic stars. They were foreign nationals. The country's reputation was at stake and he could save whatever is left of it.

They reached Renaissance hotel. He asked the Inspector to have a perimeter outside the hotel. The inspector had already arranged for policemen in civilian dresses.

“ Room 409. We have asked the hotel authorities to tell all the residents to stay inside their rooms. The authorities have confirmed on that. They have told the guests that the fire system is being repaired.”, said the inspector.

“ I'll go alone. Be with me on the wireless. I don't want any activity that might make this place feel any different or abnormal. Hear that?”, said the detective.

“ Yes sir.”

The detective entered the hotel and climbed the stairs. He reached 409. It was silent. The wooden door was in front of him. He just had to enter it and see for himself if he were any good or not. He opened the door and 2 people were talking to each other.

“ Detective Ravi Saxena. Crime Branch. Dont move. You're safe. Who is sigmund?”

Sigmund lifted his hand up.

Ravi ordered the other person, wearing a white robe, to close the window and draw the curtains.

“ Who is he?”, Ravi asked Sigmund.

“ He is a priest in the Later Day Saints church. He claims to have been sent by the organisers of the IC church. He just came in 15 minutes ago.”, said Sigmund- his voice trying to control shiver, his throat suffering from draught.

Detective Ravi nodded. He told Inspector on wireless that Sigmund was safe. He asked the Inspector to go check the other magicians also. After a while, he got the reply that all of them were safe.

Ravi thought it'll be best if they waited in the room. He didn't tell Sigmund anything about the other murders. Sigmund and the priest, meanwhile were silent expecting Ravi to tell them what he was doing there and what was expected of them.

Ravi was still expecting the killer. He put his gun on the bed and just looked around. He then noticed something puffed under the priest's robe.

“ Father- what do you have under that robe.”

“ why? Nothing son. Nothing...nothing-at-all.”, said the priest, a little anxious now.

“I need you to open the robe and tell me whats inside. “, said ravi- as he suddenly stood up, now holding his gun with both hands and the barrel at the priest.

Suddenly the priest removed the gun from under the robe and tried to shoot Sigmund. 1 bullet was shot. It missed him. Ravi immediately shot the priest in the leg and he was wounded. Sigmund was asked to go wait in the bathroom till asked to come out.

Sigmund was safe.

Detective Ravi then wired for backup and told the inspector to come up.

“ Why did you do that? You only killed the others, didn't you? Why?”, asked Ravi with sheer anger. His eyes blood red and eyebrows contracted.

The priest still had the gun in his hand. He pointed it towards Detective Ravi.

“ Bloody Bitches! They call themselves Mormons..... Oh! Sorry. You are Ravi- a hindu- how would you know? Frank, Stephanie, Alfred and Sigmund were American Mormons. Mormons are a seperate group that believe in Lord Christ and worship the church of the Jesus Christ and the later day saints. We were active since 1820. All of these dead magicians were Mormons.”

“ So- you killed them because they are Mormons? What logic is that?”, asked the detective.

“ Mormons are barred from playing Spotted face cards. Its a sin to do so. It is against God's will. And these people were not only playing it but making a living out of it. They were deeming it more popular and rendering no respect towards their religion. We talked to these so-to-speak magicians so many times but they wouldn't listen at all. They would start talking god-knows-what-not and they kept justifying their stance. This created a divide in the sect. Some people left the sect because of this. The number of people leaving the sect was growing and the followers kept questioning the authority and kept blaming them for not being able to follow the doctrines. We had to do something about these 4 people. “

“ So you thought of killing them? Wow? You think you're doing any good to your religion?”, asked Ravi still holding his gun upright.

“ Me? You think I did this? I got a call from Utah to get rid of these magicians before tonight. Utah is the Centre of Mormon Influence. It is the highest authority. None of us priests can over rule them. God knows I did the right thing. Someone has to take initiative and I now I will lay in peace. “

The priest concluded and immediately turned his gun towards himself and shot through the head. Ravi could just watch. Ravi couldn't do anything.

Ravi was engrossed in the thoughts about sincerity of the priest towards god. He wondered, if god didn't want this to happen, it wouldn't have happened. But no one could tell, could they.

Inpector Aditya came in with his team and took charge of the crime scene.

Ravi walked down the steps of Renaissance, the only hotel in Mumbai then- back in 1980.

He was thinking about what he had done towards religion, towards Hinduism. He was greatly moved by the priest and his devotion to god. Ravi quit the crime branch after that. Speculations were that he had gone to Mahabaleshwar, his hometown and he followed a guru. But who knows what actually happened.

In the later years- around 1985-1987, bombay witnessed a series of killings where beggars on the road lay with their head smashed with stones and chandan all around as if somebody had worshiped the body. The city witnessed 12 killings around Sion in Bombay itself. The man was finally caught. He was declared a psychopath and in n-number of interrogations, he said only 2 things-

First that whatever, his guru would say- he would perform those sacrifices and keep his relegious beliefs alive for the benefit of the relegion.
And the second that he was a part of the Mumbai Crime Branch.

Nobody would believe the second part.

The court declared him to be hanged to death.

Friday, June 3, 2011

The Timeless Conjecture

It was 3 in the afternoon. Something was different about today.

He sat on his table looking out of the window. It had been 6 hours since he was sitting there. Staring through those clouds. As if waiting for something to happen. But it wasn't helping at all. But he remained patient and had faith. He was adamant on reaching a solution today.

He was 40 years old. He had carried this burden on him for quite a while,now. He couldn't live with it any more. Allah wouldn't accept him if he didn't sort this thing out for himself. The elongated face was filled with sweat droplets. The fan was switched off. Nothing was moving in the house. It was still and silent. He swept his hand across his face to clear the sweat. The kurta was also wet. One could see the body beneath it, the balck torture marks, the huge cuts on the back as if it were whipped a million times. He looked into the mirror at the table. The mole on his right cheek was something that he was always ashamed off. Today, he seemed to be at peace with it.

Finaly, he made his decision. He thought of finishing it today, for those people who lie for a living and kill millions of people to make money for themselves; for those who never say a word even though they see this happening; for those who play mind games; and last but not the least... for himself.

With all his will power, he took out his cell phone from his pocket. He typed the number. Before dialing, he thought one last time. And then muttered to himself, "lets bring them to dust." he dialled the number.

" Hello? yes. who is that?", said the frail, skinny voice on the other line.
" Is that Poonam?", he said.
" Yes. This is. May i know who is that?".
" I have to meet you in an hour. Come to 1st floor, 3/32, Gulmohar park. Its urgent."
" But i have another appointment. I have to interview Liaqat Ali in the evening. I have to set it up.", said Poonam.

"I have something that can change the way you look at journalism. Gulmohar park. Before 5. Trust me, you'll repent not coming."

And he cut the call.

He had done his research on Poonam, the 22 year old journalist who worked with Clive and Colemann co. ltd. She was young and wasn't interested in bribes. Her father was a retired lieutenant colonel. She was in this profession to make a change. And he knew that. She was the only one, he thought, who could do justice to his intentions.

He went to the almira. And took out his 9mm Beretta. It was dismantled. He assembled it. He took out the nylon cloth, wiped each bullet whose head was gold and the rest of the body was silver. He had a full packet of bullets. He started filling it in. He filled in 3 bullets and realised it was too much. He removed 2 bullets and let one be in the magazine of the automatic pistol.
"Excess is not good for health", he chuckled.

Then he made another phone call.
" Ramazan bhai. I had placed an order 5 days ago. I need it today.", he said.

" Yes. Its ready. Shall i give it now?"

" No. Give it in about 2 hours. Thank you."

It was 4:45 now. The bell rang. He unlocked the door.

" Poonam Sanyal. I got a call from here.", she said showing her ID.
" Yes ma'am. I only called you. You're alone?"
She nodded and was invited inside the house.

Her brown eyes were searching the place for clues to her reason of being here. She found none.

" Okay. Since you are a journalist, I presume you have a note pad with you. Please take it out.", he asked her calmly.

" Yea sure. But before that can i have some water please?"

" No. I dont have time. Please- lets start. I cant live with this anymore."
" Okay. No problem. What do you have to tell me?", said the rather furious Poonam.

And he started. With every word, he unwinded himself. As if just leaving everything.

" So- i'm going to tell you something that is very important. You must believe me. I'll give you the proof later. Just listen now.

My name is Ashfaq Pasha. I'm a ex-member of the ISI. I specialised in field ops. Dont search for me in their database. You wont find me because I was deleted from there. I shall explain to you why, a little later. I'll start fromm the very beginning...."

" Ahh. listen, MR. Pasha. I told you I have an appointment today. Please finish as soon as possible. I have to take care of other things also.", said poonam in a if-i'm-not-interested-can-i-go tone.

" Your mother is at her sister's house. You have made rajma today for dinner.Sandeep's office is closing early today. He'll call you for dinner. You'll give the rajma to Kanta bai tomorrow morning. So- dont lie to me, you have only one thing to take care- LIAQAT ALI! And i shall do everything i can to finish early."

" But how do you know....", she said

" Ma'am. As I said I dont have time for this.", he said in his heavy voice. It was granulated.

She nodded. And sat in a posture as if she was interested. She heard him carefully now. He had earned his credibility.

" It started in 1988. I was the lieutenant general at Poonch district in Kashmir. One night I got a call from the then commander-in-chief, Aslam Beg. He said that today he was going through gallantry personnel records and he noticed mine. He then pulled up his high school photos and then realized that we were together in high school.He thought he was obliged to serve my needs first and then the others. And so he gave me an offer"

" What offer?", she said, her interest growing.

" He told me that he would see to it that my branch was transferred to ISI where I could work from an air- conditioned office and triple my earnings if in return I would allow a group of 100 people to cross the border to the indian side.
I told him that even if I were not to allow. He could send them by plane. He said he couldn't. He had some limitations. And this work was important. I thought of it for a moment and then agreed. And soon there were people crossing from this side to that while we cover fired the Indians. And they thought that we were violating the ceasefire norms. Fools. Huh.

So- I was now posted in Rawalpindi.

A few years passed. Me and Aslam Beg became good friends. We talked and discussed a lot of confidential things. We were influencing each others decisions now. He suddenly started trusting me. I thought this friendship was pretty normal but I didn't know he had an inferior motive behind all this. Until I found out.

It was spring 1990 when Liaqat Ali, the husband of Akleem Akhtar- yes the president of Pakistan, was sent to jail on curruption charges. The politics had become very bad. Shareef sahib was wanting to be seated on the chair but the other parties didn't want him. So- he was lying about one party to another. I dont know how he managed it- but it seemed really genuine. And so 6 months later Mrs Akleem was impeached on grounds of corruption.

I was in the chief security staff of Akleem. She knew me well and always wanted me beside her. She trusted me-literally- with her life. The day she was impeached, she called me and asked me if I thought she was corrupt and I denied it firmly and I must admit I was true then. She couldn't have done that. I was convinced that Liaqat was the one at fault but she wouldn't believe that also. She thought even he was framed. But I think he was at fault and thats why he rotted in jail for 8 long years.

Akleem akhtar went to Dubai under self imposed exile with her son, her husband still in jail.

I was saturated with this politics. I didn't want to be a part of a system like this. Besides, I had earned enough to live life and still leave some behind. I approached Aslam Beg and asked him to have me shifted back to field ops. I passed the required tests and was all set to go. Until one night Beg came to my house.

It was 12 and he came in his uniform with his 2 body guards. I was supposed to leave the next night for Naushera towards Kashmir. I thought he came to bid me farewell. But it was far from that.

He told me that I was one of the few good brains left in ISI then and that he needed me in various other places.

At that time there was a nuclear crisis where a few political people were involved in selling Pakistan's nuke tech specs to various countries. My work was simple- to locate them and kill them. He would give me the names of the people. I would get a huge sum of money and whatever resources i needed to complete the operation.

Only, there was one googly to this whole thing. The Pakistan government wouldn't authorize such a mission. It was impossible to do so. Hence, i would have to be removed as a member of isi and do this as a freelence, indepandent assassin. He guaranteed help but he said he couldn't make it official. I would be alone on this mission.

I obviously didnt accept it at first because I had made enough money but then he started threatening my family. I don't have a wife but I have a joint family who live close to Quetta. They love me a lot and so do I. Aslam Beg threatened to kill them. That bastard!

I had to give in. Finally. That is the reason why you wont find me anywhere in the records of this country. Officially, I'm not even a citizen of this country.", he said expecting compassion from the other. None granted. She was still listening to him and expected him to move on.

"I did his jobs and he kept giving me more and more of them. There was a time when I was scared of my own shadow.
Once I was in Abu Dhabi- to take down the owner of a casino because they wanted to stop funding Pakistan's military drone project.
And there I saw Akleem Akhtar. She was having dinner with some dignatories. She seemed to be my only hope. I followed her to her room and enquired. She was living alone. I had access to the intercom of the hotel where she was staying. I called her up and told her that I wanted to meet her. She recognised me and she agreed.

I told her everything I had to. She said that a year later, she was planning to come back to Pakistan and that she would ensure that I'm her guard. I thanked her, completed my mission and came back..

About 2 years later- I was standing next to MRS AKHTAR again. Now, we had a different relation. I wanted to approach her many times to tell her about what I felt about Liaqat Ali, her husband. I knew for sure- he was misusing her. I felt that I should tell her but I knew she wouldn't believe me without proof. And that tall, lean son of a bitch was good at his work. He didn't leave any tails behind.

Elections were near and campaigning started. By this time, me and Beg also built up on our relation. He had appologised to me and explained to me why he did what he did. I found it difficult to confront him at first but then I learnt to do it the diplomatic way. We met and had drinks and became friends.

About 4 months ago- 6th october march 2005. It was the last day of campaign. Mrs Akhtar had recieved good reviews till now. It seemed as if people were supporting her. I was beside her all the time. I wanted to see her there. I wanted her to get what she deserved.

She was giving her speech at Islamabad. After her speech was over- Liaqat was supposed to address the gathering. But he wasn't to be seen anywhere. Mr beg was there in the audience and I was standing on the stage. He signalled me to go check in the loo. As I was going, I saw Liaqat coming out of the loo. He looked a little uneasy but smiled when he looked at me.

I told him that it was time for him to address the gathering. He agreed and on the way he told me, " Ashfaq! Akleem is getting an amazing support. Before she leaves the venue, ask her to stand outside the van and wave to audience. They'll love it. "

" But sir, ma'am's car is fully closed. How will she stand?"

" No. Not her car. Ask her to get in the gypsy. It is fully covered except the top can be slid and she can be seen. Atleast her torso onwards she will be visible. Just tell her to do it. Then we'll ensure our victory"

And he left me with those words. I coudn't make a decision then. When we sat in the car. The crowd was all around us and we couldn't move because the police was busy clearing people of our car. I thought ma'am could capitalise on this time. I asked her to stand up. She thanked me for that idea. And asked me to open the top. So i did and then...."

" and then a sniper at the north-west corner shot her right through the forehead. and she fell back in the car. correct?", Poonam finally broke her silence.

" Yes. That part the whole world knows. No one knows how it happened. This is the truth. This is the reality. Liaqat Ali is the current president of this country- so i heard in the news. Not even 3 months and he is already the chairman of Akleem's party and the president of this country."

" So- are you suggesting that....?", asked poonam

"Yes- that is exactly what I'm suggesting. The president of this country is a murderer and I have proof. Its going to be a major political feud, I know. I had to tell someone this and now its in your hands to bring it to justice. They are behind my life. I somehow ran away from the scenario then. But they know I have figured this out. They'll do anything to kill me. But I'm not ready to die like this. I want to die with dignity and respect."

He gave her a pair of keys and a box. About the size of a palm.

"These are the keys to this box . Proof is in that. It has tape recordings and stuff. Open it only when you go home or office. Please let people know about this."

She closed her notepad and with the box and kept it in her bag.

" I'll do whatever I can.", she said.

She didnt know if all this was true or even possible. Making such an accusation on the president was a big deal in itself. She had to take the decision.

She opened the gate and she stepped out. She turned back to close it and saw him for the last time. He was still staring at her. Tears in his eyes. He wasn't blinking. Something was wrong, she thought. Something was missing. But she left it at that.

Poonam had to inform her office that she wouldn't be able to interview Liaqat Ali. so on the staircase- she was walking down slowly out of the building, trying her office via a cell phone when she heard a gun shot.

She ran up and saw Ashfaq Pasha with a shining silver Beretta in one hand and the other on his chest lying on the floor in a pool of blood. He had shot himself in the head. She had never seen a dead man before. She was shocked. She slid down the wall and sat with her head in her arms, her knees were folded.

Suddenly someone rang the bell of the house. Poonam got scared. she didnt know what to do.

Did Beg come to know about this encounter? Was Liaqat after her life also? Was the police here? Will they frame her for murder?

She was clueless.

Very reluctantly, she opened the door. It was Ramazan bhai.
He said, " Madamji, is Kareem sahib at home?"

Poonam was shocked for a minute.

Kareem? Probably he wanted to hide his identity-so he changed his name- she thought.

" No....i mean no. He isn't, what do you want?", she said controlling her shiver.

" He had asked for this packet in the morning. Please give it him.", Ramazan said as he handed over something wrapped in a newspaper. It was the same packet that Ashfaq had asked for Ramazan to bring a few hours ago.

She grabbed it with one hand and shut the door.

She wanted to see what it was. Proof for the murder? Real identity of the Ashfaq/Kareem? What exactly?

She opened it. It was neatly polished medal. "Nishan-e-Haider", she recognised it. Her father was also in the army. It was the highest military award.

The packet also had a white, cotton cloth. Pretty long.

......White cotton cloth is what the dead are wrapped in....

It was all very creepy. She didn't know what was happening. Immediately she realised she had the box and the keys.

She took it out and opened it. It had nothing but a note. The note read:-

" I dont have any proof as I had not forsighted such an outcome. But I assure you its the truth. All truth that I could look for is destroyed. Please do something about it."

She sat there. In that room with green walls staring at the medal. She couldn't comprehend anything. She didn't know what to do.

Poonam walked down to her car. She tried to link everything she experienced while battling the shock and disgrace she was in. But no result.

She didnt know what to do. She didn't know if she could live not telling this truth to anybody or if she chooses to tell how she would conclusively prove it.

She went home and couldn't sleep that whole night. She kept staring at the moon. Fan off. Face was sweating.

The next morning she called her senior journalist," Seema ma'am. Please come home as soon as possible. I have to tell you something very important."

She then walked into her father's room. Her father was in the army. she opened his cupboard and took out his colt .45 revolver. She inserted one bullet in it and waited for Seema to come.......