OS: Yesterday and Tomorrow--Forgiveness (completed) - Page 15

YESTERDAY--PART 3: Aman walked into the cell, looking quite bored. His normally round, pleasant face had an expression the Prisoner had never seen before--a look of barely suppressed disdain, as if he was smelling something rancid, and trying to hide his disgust. The Prisoner, stinking from many weeks of captivity, smelling of sweat and fear, now self consciously huddled into an even smaller ball, sitting up against the far wall.


"You had something you wanted to tell me?" asked Aman, polishing his aviators against his shirt impatiently as he sat down on a filthy chair in the corner. The Prisoner mumbled a few words. Aman looking irritated, got up.


"I told you this before-- I won't help you if you won't give me anything in return for it. Of course you cannot be given a court-date until we catch your Thakur, and until we get the maniacs at the bottom of the entire case. You are a terrorist. You think you have rights?" Aman snorted, keeping his face impassive.


A frightened shake of the head answered this. "You aren't?" Aman sneered.. "You didn't work for the Thakur, acting as a decoy, helping him to send guns from here, getting payment and doing money-laundering? You are as involved as he is!" The Prisoner, by now looking almost frantic, begged to be heard. Aman, seemingly unconcerned, allowed the Prisoner to talk for a few minutes. It was all the usual crap---the prisoner was white as snow, had grown up with the Thakur as benevolent father, everything the prisoner had ever said was the holy truth. The Thakur was not a bad man, there was no proof...


"You should know we are investigating the Thakur's illegal activities " interrupted Aman, getting up once again. "Major Ranawat has identified not one, not two, but eight other such zones of terrorist activity in this state. He investigates, and he is never wrong. We will respond to every threat, and we will find every evidence. You cannot trick the BSD. It is better for you to join with us, than to stay with your Thakur. He has lost, he just does not know it yet."

*********************************************

A small smile touched the Prisoner's face. Evil and ugly, it was an expression of pleasure that was like a smear of dirt across the fat, puffy features. And as Aman watched, the prisoner's entire attitude and behavior changed from being a cringing, servile, low creature to that of an oily, malevolent and confident man.


Standing up from his crouched position on the ground, Kesari Ram, the Thakur's captured right-hand man now said--

"The BSD responds to every threat?! And Major Ranawat investigates and finds connections? He cannot be tricked? Does he respond to words written in blood too, Officer? Because I have heard, things, me! Sitting here, in your HQ, I hear the guards talking. Your entire BSD is focused on Parvati Baisa, right? Because the Thakur attacked some BSD scum, and left her name as a calling card? Is she still alive, Officer? Can it be you don't understand my Thakur's mind, the way he thinks, even now? You think she is a terrorist, and he thinks she is a threat. But the Thakur cannot get to Parvati Baisa, and you cannot get to him. You are helpless. But just look at how he has planned his strategy! He can't get to her---but the BSD can, naa? The BSD--they can kill Parvati for him, now, cant they?

When there is already distrust, when you people already think that stupid young girl is a part of all this, what does it take? All it takes, to create a raging fire, is a small coal of heat! And you got that heat, three days ago, when the Thakur left his bloody note, on the Naagpur camp wall, didn't you? One note, and you are all sure! The Thakur gave you your evidence in a way you cannot ignore -- 22 people, killed! And left you the motive as well! Revenge! And then, he just stepped back, knowing how you people will think. You will ask her, and you won't believe her when she will say she knows nothing!

A girl who is worth 22 dead bodies to the terrorists!! You will kill her, but you won't let her go, or believe in her innocence!!! What a trick! What a trap! And your own rules will say---Interrogation karo !! Sab pata lagao! Hahaha! Is Parvati baisa still alive, Officer? She won't be for long, if she is! She will never be safe again! One night, some BSD sentry who had a brother or a father stationed at Naagpur, will slip into her cell with a knife. One day, when she has been abused too far, she will take a bed-sheet and make a rope out of it for herself. One evening, during her "questioning" as the BSD gets more and more frustrated by how their prisoner is resisting them, one blow will land on the wrong place, killing her.

No, Officer. I will not betray the Thakur, not when he can get to that girl without ever stepping foot into the BSD. Not when he has no problem killing 22 people so he can cause the murder of just one village girl, finish one small threat to himself!! I'm much more scared of him, than I can ever be of you lot! Your Major is always right...hahaha..."

******************************************************

Every instinct in Aman's mind screamed a warning to him, almost propelling him to run out the door, to get to Rudra with this revelation. Fools! They had all been fools, too wrapped up in grief and need for revenge to see the underhanded evil game that was being played against them all! They knew of the Thakur's evil, but this! Who could imagine the depravity that would use twenty-two deaths to disguise one real murder??! Rudra had operated as per protocol, as had Aman, General Singh, Ram Mohan-- the entire BSD! And it was this very protocol, this very rules of engagement that had been used against them by their enemy! The rules said to follow the evidence, analyze the clues, interpret the actions---so that was what they had done, all of them--ignoring instinct, ignoring a roaring sense of wrong for what they were doing to an innocent girl---a girl who could not be innocent, if the evidence was considered-as it must be! Rules!


And Parvati!


She would come up against another interrogation in ten minutes. Would she survive? She had been so weak when she had asked for her Aman Bhaiya, when she had whispered a goodbye to him on Ram Mohan's cell-phone! Her voice had sounded so oddly peaceful and resigned to her fate, Aman had found his cheeks wet with tears as he had hung up. She was innocent, his very blood had screamed this to him. She had not called to confess, as Ram Mohan had thought, but to say goodbye to her "Bhaiya." She had known, somehow, that she would not survive the night. And Aman, in mindless grief, in desperation, had come here, to the other BSD prisoner Kesari Ram. Playing on his instinct, hoping to see if there was any small clue, any tiny inconsistency he could use to stop the death Fate had chosen for one more sister whom he had taken into his heart.


And now this! Would any of them survive with this on their conscience, this evil that they had unknowingly committed? What forgiveness would there be, for him, for Rudra, for the General---when they were unwitting accomplices of the devil himself? He had to run, his cell phone was in the office, his Jeep was parked outside--Parvati had no time, he had to get to...But some small clue, some residual gut feeling, or perhaps some fleeting expression on Kesari Ram's contorted face stopped Aman.


Aman, appearing impassive, now sat down again as if he had all the time in the world. His brain hammered the seconds countdown to him, a scream of fear into the depths of his mind. Shrugging indifferently, Aman forced himself to say--

"If she is dead, she is dead. If you are telling the truth, she does not know anything anyways. So if she has died already from the interrogation or if she is released later, it will not matter. What matters is you, my dear friend. You have as good as admitted you know a lot about the Thakur's activities. You are much more interesting to me than some young girl who got caught up in the middle of all of this by accident.

So, you talk. We are quite interested in how the Thakur has avoided detection for over 2 decades. We might have been wrong about Parvati being a traitor, but we know you have moles and traitors inside BSD itself. You could not have done smuggling without inside reports on troop movements, on sentry posts. So--who do you have inside the BSD working for you? You know about them, if you worked with the Thakur, you must have heard him mention them."

Kesari Ram shook his head, sullenly. He looked around, his eyes darting here and there, unwilling to meet Aman's piercing gaze. He had already said too much, Kesari Ram knew this. Gloating and happy by the way his Thakur had neatly tricked these BSD fools about Parvati, causing her to most probably be killed by the BSD themselves, he hadn't been able to stop himself from showing off . But he should not have done this.


Kesari Ram had many years of experience with the manipulative Thakur's games, so the story of the Naagpur massacre and Parvati's name on the door, written in the soldiers' blood---that little trick was easy for him to decipher. The plan had been obvious to a man who had worked with evil, and he was himself steeped in dark deeds and innocent blood. But, he should have kept his mouth shut about it. He should not have allowed this Officer Aman Kundra to trick him into boasting about his Thakur's intelligence. Kesari-Ram was trapped. Now, his momentary burst of confidence drained out of him. Once again he looked like what he was--a cornered rat, a lowlife with no place to hide.


Aman lazily continued: "You won't say anything? Alright, no matter. Once I walk out that door, I will have the BSD's interrogators coming in to deal with you. I have wasted a lot of time on you, and you have given me nothing. I will send the best man BSD has.."

Aman was almost out the door when the prisoner, eyes bulging, face blanched of color, stopped him in his tracks.


"BSD ka interrogator? Kon? Nahi! Nahi! Maar dalega! Listen to me! Wait!" The prisoner begged. An internal struggle seemed to take place within Kesari Ram as Aman stood, outwardly patient and controlled, while inside he was panicking as he had never done before in his life.

"I know a name. Just one name, but I beg you, give me protection. Your organization, your BSD--it is not safe for me. Give me your word that you will transfer me to maximum security. I will tell you what I know--not much, just a name. But you cannot let any BSD interrogator in here, with me. The Thakur thinks I am dead, that's the only reason I am still alive here.

The Thakur has a man, a well-known, well connected man inside the BSD. An interrogation expert, from what the Thakur said. And I know just his name--not his rank, or posting or anything else about him. He is an enemy agent from the other side."


"More bullshit stories!" sneered Aman, as his heartbeat picked up, some sixth sense sounding a warning throughout his body, tensing his muscles as if for battle.


"No I'm telling you the truth! Even the Thakur is a little nervous about this man, he is an excellent source of BSD information, since he has actually infiltrated into the Army. He has done work for the Thakur for years. This man is a spy, from the other side, so orders sometimes come directly from him--even the Thakur has to listen to him, when he calls. He is not just a mole--he is a very important man. I have never met him, but I heard his name a few times, when he called the Thakur. Bohot khatarnak banda, hai, yeh jaanti hu.."


"His name? Naam batao..." gasped Aman, his mind flooding with a nameless fear. Kesari Ram, was now too preoccupied with his own safety to even bother wondering why Officer Aman was staring at him with an expression of pure horror. He was thinking furiously, muttering to himself as he tried to remember the elusive name of BSD's biggest traitor:

"Kya naam tha? Kya naam tha? Koi common muslim community type ka naam tha, shayed. Ek yah dui baar hi suna, yaad bhi nahi... Jamshed..?? Nahi nahi.. Jahangeer tha, kya? Oh yes!, Yaad aya! I remember it. His name is Jasheem. Jasheem Khan."

********************************************

In the BSD headquarters, Paro was, at this moment, being readied for her third session in the Interrogation Chamber. Putting aside the green-algae filled water in her cell, Ram Mohan had offered Paro some fresh water from his own flask. Paro was too weak to lift the bottle, and Ram Mohan had quietly helped the young girl with the flask. Now, she wiped her mouth with trembling fingers as manacles were locked onto her wrists. She had just whispered a soft "Thank-you" to the silent Constable, trying to say she was grateful for his many small kindnesses to her, when her cell door creaked open.


Prisoner and Constable both looked up, startled, as Major Rudra Pratap Ranawat walked in. Ram Mohan with a defiant hand resting for a second on Paro's bent head, looked past Rudra, and walked out. He did not salute his superior officer as he closed the door.


"Parvati..." Rudra's toneless voice had never sounded so...empty. Paro stared at the ground, her limbs trembling from fatigue, pain and now fear.

"Mera baat sun. Dekh, tujhe bas ek baat batana hai. Bata deh, yeh log kon tha. Kaha se tha. Ek naam, ek pata. Sirf ek. Aur yeh sab kuch khatam. Parvati, teri sathiyon sirf BSD-wardi pehne walo ko nahi mara. Teri jaise auraat ko, chote chote baccha ko bhi aag laga diya, Parvati. Iss tara mara, 22 mein 12 ko uski apni gharwalo pehchan bhi nahi pai. Gaddar, Desh-drohi joh bhi hai tu--tu Jallad nahi hai, na? Woh tu muje bulati hai--yeh katleama. Yeh jo Naagpur mein hua, teri naam ki vaste, iski liye Bhagwan bhi maaf nahi karega tujhe. Mujhe yeh 22 ki jaan ko azad karna hai--mukti dena hai, insaaf dekar. Joh yeh sab kiya, usme se ek naam bata--sirf ek--aur teri upar yeh zulm aaj hi khatam. "

(Eng:"Parvati--listen to me. Look, you need to tell us just one thing. Tell us who these people were. Where they were from. One name. one address. Just one, and all of this ends now. Parvati, your companions, they didn't just kill people who were from the BSD. They murdered women like you, little children--they burnt them alive, Parvati. They killed these innocents in such a way that out of the 22 dead bodies, 12 were unrecognizable to their own family members. Disloyal to your country, a Traitor, whatever you are, you are not a Jallad, right? You call me that...This massacre that has happened in Naagpur, in your name...for this even God will not be able to forgive you. I need to give those 22 dead souls peace, I need to give them justice. The people who committed this act---tell me the name of just one of the men--just one name and the torture on you ends right now.")


Parvati looked up, straining against the dim light to make out who was hovering over her. Who was this? Someone important, she was sure of it. The set, rigidly tight features swam before her eyes, and she lifted her arms to her face, trying to rub away the fading, wavering light. The manacles dug into her skin as she stumbled, her legs giving out. Instantly, she was caught by Rudra. Lifting her up into his arms, Rudra sat down on the floor, cradling her close. Her hands rested against his chest as she dropped her forehead against his neck, her face turned into his warmth. For long moments they sat like this, Rudra frozen into a rictus of shock. In his arms Parvati, clearly delirious, lay against his hammering heart, mumbling to herself, as she wavered between moments of consciousness and her own nether world of memories.


Paro had become completely disoriented. For some reason, as she rested quietly in Rudra's unwilling embrace, she was quite sure that she was with someone who she knew. She believed she was in the arms of someone who had come to rescue her, take her away from the madness, the pain, the monstrous horror of her life. Nothing Rudra had said had made any sense to a woman so battered by her imprisonment and torture, she was truly unaware of her surroundings. She was, however, sure that she was finally safe. This meant she could rest, so closing her eyes, Paro allowed herself to drift, to just...let go.


"Parvati...? Tu sun rahe hai? Teri pas waqt nahi hai, tujhe lene ayaga--Bata de, Parvati..."

(Eng: "Parvati...? Are you listening? You don't have time, they will be here to take you..tell me what I need to know, Parvati...")


The frantic plea, uttered in a voice so hoarse she could barely make out the words--it made no sense to her. So Parvati did not respond to them. She tried, instead, to snuggle further into the warmth of the person who was holding her so close to his furnace-heat.

"Parvati..." a trembling command...


"Paro..meri naam Paro bhi hai---aap mujhe Paro bulaiye..."
(Eng: "Paro..my name is also Paro---you should call me Paro..)" she mumbled to her savior.

"Paro.."

The cell door opened. Jasheem Khan stood outside, his mild eyes starting with shock at the sight of his commanding officer holding the prisoner Parvati in his arms. Jasheem Khan watched as the famously cruel, famously unemotional Rudra Pratap Ranawat desperately shook the unresponsive woman, choking up as he begged her to speak. This would never do. Jasheem Khan, after all, had a job to perform. He walked into the cell, and reaching for Parvati's arm, he gently disengaged her from Rudra's grasp. Dragging her to her feet, Jasheem Khan caught hold of the manacles as he led the prisoner out of her cell. Once he had her safely outside, he turned to Rudra, who had gotten up by now, and who stood facing Jasheem Khan with a very odd look in his eyes.

Politeness.

Jasheem Khan was a big believer in maintaining polite speech and proper manners. And, sach mein, Major Ranawat was a man after Jasheem Khan's own heart. Jasheem had liked the cruelty, the facade of cold calculation and lack of emotion he had seen in Rudra--tonight's strange lapse in Parvati's cell notwithstanding. Jasheem smiled pityingly at the Major. He felt bad for Rudra--after all, Rudra did not know Parvati had nothing to reveal to them.


Jasheem liked Rudra's dedication to his job, even if he was the enemy, and a BSD leader in charge of stopping Jasheem's and his group's activities. So now, politely, Jasheem Khan suggested that Rudra join the other BSD Officers in the Observation Room, while he took the Prisoner Parvati in for her third session.


Smiling reassuringly at the silent Major, Jasheem Khan told Rudra to relax, sit back and trust him to do his job. Something in Rudra's eyes warned him not to say anything more to the silent pillar of leashed fury, so Jasheem Khan then led Parvati away. Ram Mohan followed behind him, almost as if the Constable was guarding his prisoner all the way to their next destination. Well, no matter. The Interrogation Chamber had sturdy locks, and a bulletproof mirrored window. He would seem like he was doing his job while killing Parvati (in a way that showed his artistic craft) and finish the job Thakur Tejawat had not been able to do.


Two birds killed with one stone. Jasheem Khan was nothing if not efficient.

****************************************************

Parvati was led, like a lamb to the slaughter into the Interrogation Chamber. Unlike before, this time she had come along without resisting, without tears or fear. Jasheem Khan pushed his prisoner gently into the chair across from him, turning to shut the only door behind him. He pretended to drop some files, and stooping to pick them up, he quickly placing a small iron wedge underneath the door jamb to prevent anyone from breaking the door down. Locking the door itself was protocol--and now he was in here, with his Prisoner.


The Observation Window was set high above one wall, and there was a mesh grill across the surface of the mirror to prevent accidental breakage. Rudra and his BSD officials were probably right behind that mirror, but by the time they understood that something was off about this interrogation, Jasheem had full confidence that he would already be done with the killing part of this mission. The barren room contained nothing more than one chair for Parvati, a swinging lamp high overhead, and a table with his "instruments" neatly arranged in immaculate rows on a fresh, white towel.

Cleanliness.

Jasheem Khan was a big believer in properly maintaining and cleaning his tools and torture implements. So far, he had not been allowed to use even one of his many special items. Rudra's low voice in his ear had stopped him, every time, so he had not played with Parvati and used the pliers, or even the brass knuckle rings he had had especially imported from China. Sighing at how little time he now had to use these before he had to kill her, he turned to Parvati, clipping her manacles to the chair.


Dazed eyes, as large and soft as a doe's looked into his, as he bent over the slight girl."Aap mujhe maar daloge?" (Eng: "Are you going to kill me tonight?") Asked a soft voice, almost a whisper at his ear.

Jasheem Khan straightened and stared at the young girl, who had somehow understood his intentions even when trained BSD officials who saw him every day did not.

"Ji--Yes" he responded, just as softly.

"Mein nirdosh hu--aap yeh baat acchi se jaante hai na? Mein kuch nahi kiya aur mein kuch nahi jaanti hu?"

(Eng: "I am innocent--you know this quite well, don't you? And you know that I don't know anything, I haven't done anything?) " Parvati persisted.


She was calm, almost docile. "Ji..mein yeh janti hu.--Yes, I know." Jasheem Khan responded, with some curiosity. Would she beg for her life? Snarl at him, become frenzied, scream, throw herself at his mercy? He had none, but the begging for mercy part was always fun.

"Thik hai. Aap usko yeh sach baad mein bata di jiye. Woh mujhe abhi bhi gaddar samajhti hai. Maarne ke baad woh mujhe nirdosh manegi. Aap usko batana zaroor."

(Eng: "Alright, then. Please tell him this later. HE still believes me to be a traitor. After I die, HE will have to at least admit that I was innocent. So please remember to tell him this.")


Jasheem Khan had nothing to say, and Parvati now closed her eyes. This had to be the strangest experience out of all his many years of torture, maiming and murder. Remembering his commanding officer as he had last seen him--sitting on the floor, holding this innocent child in his arms, shaking her with a combination of fear and despair-- Jasheem Khan had a realization. Looking at the silent girl waiting for her death with more courage than he had seen on a thousand battlefields and in a hundred dungeons, Jasheem Khan said, softly:

"Kuch batana nahi hoga, Parvati Vader. Aap nirdosh, aur woh galath--woh iss baat ko jaante hai. Sach uski dimaag pe shayad koi asar nahi kiya, lekhin dil pe yehi sach usko rakh ko jala diya."

(Eng: "I wont have to tell him anything, Parvati Vader. That you are innocent, that he is wrong--he knows this to be true already. The truth has made no impact on his head, perhaps--but the truth has already burnt his heart into ashes")


And reaching for his newest whip, the one with the interesting wire edge, that could cut through skin and bone with one flick of his beefy arms, Jasheem Khan prepared for murder.

****************************************************

Something was wrong. Years of instinct, honed on the battlefield where listening to that soft susurration was all that had stopped him from becoming a corpse was again warning Rudra tonight. Something was wrong.

Looking around for the source of the sensation, Rudra decided it had to be the sheer number of BSD officers in here with him now. Rudra had never seen quite so many people inside the Observation Room in the past. Privately burning in a hell that would not let him take a deep breath without pain, he had initially not realized how many were in here tonight.


When he did, Rudra looked around at their faces, his eyes burning a warning that his voice did not utter. Somehow, what was happening tonight, to Parvati was...private. In some twisted, distorted way, Rudra did not want these people to see her pain, to witness her collapse. This was something between the two of them. It was the most depraved form of intimacy, the most shameful form of privacy. But it was what it was.


He turned, issuing a soft command, and was startled by how many of the junior BSD officers held their ground and did not immediately run out. He recognized several officers who had conducted Paro's interviews, Ram Mohan, and a few of her guards as well. They were all here, staring at him out of eyes that contained questions, demands, even pleas for answers. Eyes that asked him why he'd ordered them do what they had done to her. They were here, and apparently, they would not let Paro go through this interrogation again, all alone. It was a show of ...solidarity? For a criminal? A traitor?


Rudra laughed a low laugh that contained nothing resembling humor. How did that matter? Traitor, evil, criminal? He was here for her too, wasn't he? To stand here, and not flinch when Paro did, so he could suffer later whatever Paro suffered now. To give companionship--distorted, useless, unasked. But companionship, to a woman who had been responsible for 22 macabre, evil deaths.


Turning to watch Jasheem Khan, he noticed, with a frown, that the man was whispering to Paro, as she sat huddled in her chair. Paro was also responding softly to whatever he was saying. This was against protocol, which demanded that all questions and answers had to be recorded. Suddenly, Rudra realized---Jasheem was alone in there. His own preoccupation with whatever was happening to him because of one small village girl had dulled his instincts. Now he realized that the two officers who had to be present for the taping and the questions of the Interrogation were in here, with Rudra. Snarling at them, he demanded to know what they were doing on THIS side of the Observation window.


Their puzzled response--this was what Jasheem had asked them to do... made no sense. He impatiently turned on his Bluetooth, ready to demand that Jasheem Khan explain this peculiar decision. No response. He knocked on the window, trying the comm-line again, when Ram Mohan grabbed his shoulder. He waved at a small silver device lying on the table containing Jasheem's disgusting little toys. The Bluetooth. Ram Mohan now urgently spoke to Rudra in an undertone, pointing at the deadbolt on the Interrogation room door---"He has locked himself in there sir! I did not realize he was going to be alone with Parvati--did you allow this? He is alone there, and he is a madman, Major! Why has he locked the door, if you did not tell him to.."


Locked...Parvati, manacled to a chair, locked in there with...Rudra was almost out of the Observation room, running towards the cell door when a collective gasp from the BSD officers made him look back.


The whip that Jasheem Khan now had in his hand--it was not the usual thick, ropey-looking thing. That whip, standard issue for prisoner "encouragement" at all levels of the Army ---it was ugly and caused pain, but it was something too thick to cut skin. This whip, glinting with evil silver teeth, looked like tensile steel...Jasheem slashed it against the wall, preparing to get a good swing arc; the whip's edge ripped out chunks of plaster from the Interrogation room walls as it lashed against the bare concrete.


A roaring sound filled Rudra's head, as he launched himself bodily through the one-way Observation mirror. Dimly, he realized as he threw himself again and again against the bulletproof glass mirror, that the roaring screams were his own. The window cracked, but did not give in. The wire mesh against the mirror gave it additional protection and even Rudra's brutal strength was no match for it. He did not care, as he used his bare hands to rip at wire, gouging himself and making the edges slippery with fresh blood. He threw himself against the barrier, skin shredding on jagged glass and torn wire. He did not register the torn flesh all over his body as his entire being fused onto the slender woman sitting on a chair on the other side of this barrier--about to die.


The confusion inside the Observation room meant that several precious seconds passed before the BSD personnel realized what their suddenly crazed Major was doing. Two men who had at first tried to hold him back were knocked senseless by his powerful fists before the others backed away and scrambled to understand the situation. Ram Mohan, who had only stared at Parvati throughout this, now screamed a warning----and the BSD watched in horror as a crazed madman with bloody cuts all over his body threw himself against the mirror that bowed, but would not break---and as the crazed madman inside the Interrogation room prepared to murder a defence-less girl before their very eyes.

*************************************************

Inside the Interrogation Cell, things were not going the way Jasheem Khan had planned. As soon as the tapping against the glass stopped, he had started to warm up towards his final act, taking quiet pleasure in the hissing, destructive beauty of his excellent new whip.

Patience.

Jasheem Khan was a big believer in patiently maintaining a schedule, being organized, giving himself enough time to do his work right. But he clearly had run out of time. The spider-webbing cracks on the window of the Observation Room, not to mention the unearthly roar of a wounded beast that reverberated from that area meant that perhaps the Major was not going to like Jasheem Khan's initiative. He would have to strangle her, then. Putting down the whip that would have been exciting to use, but too time consuming given the current situation, Jasheem Khan reached for Parvati's slender throat.


The mirror shattered.


The combined force of the BSD,--jawans, officials, constables, guards--their entire body weight against the unbreakable mirror had given Rudra his entry point. As he leapt down into the room, the exit door that Jasheem Khan had so carefully shut burst inwards. Jasheem turned to face Officer Aman Kundra on one side and Major Rudra Pratap Ranawat on the other. He now dived for Parvati, almost unconscious and slumped into her chair. He would have held her hostage, killed her, used her as leverage. No one knew what he had planned---because the second his arms reached for Parvati, a gun barked into the already frenzied noise.


His left leg shattered, Jasheem Khan had only a moment of consciousness to stare with wide eyes at Constable Ram Mohan, who had taken the impossible distance shot through the broken window. Jasheem's last thought, as he collapsed was-- that fat bas***d had at least not killed him, by aiming for his leg. Constable Mohan, as he holstered his weapon thought that he needed to revisit his target-practice training immediately. He had been aiming for that mad bas***d's head.

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THE STORY CONTINUES WITH THE NEXT INSTALLMENT--YESTERDAY AND TOMORROW: REPENTANCE (PART ELEVEN)

...STAY TUNED.. coming soon to a forum post near you.

I will bring Rudra around from the dark side he's in, I promise. But this one has been very difficult to write, so I hope Baisas, that you will (in the meantime) comment, like, and discuss the story I've given you here as well! Enjoy!

2 paragraphs in and I am almost in tears! She called to say good bye to Aman!