My Name is...

This post is part of The Chennai Bloggers Club's second Tablog titled "Valentine's Day One Post One Scene Relay". Thanks Sowmya for introducing me and you can read her part of the story here. Now lets praise the lord and say "Khuda hafiz!!!"

Sharp rain never knew the gravity of any situation. It just poured whenever it likes to but today the timing was perfect with the sun down and the moon’s rising, And the cold wind blowing hard giving a match to its competitor. 

“Omar bhai… “, voice of young Abdul rose above the rhythm of the rain.

Omar’s eye was filled with tears just like the dark cloud which poured but unlike it, he couldn’t afford to express his weakness. He waited for the tears to dissolve into his one good eye.

“Bhai”, Abdul once gain.

Omar turned towards him with an indifferent face. Abdul knew the saying, “a man is dangerous when you are not able to sense what he thinks inside his head” 

“Our Sweden mission has failed…. Salla that Indian spy had not arrived… Maaf kijiye bhai!!!”

“How many died?” Omar interrupted with an irritated face.

“Nearly 20… ”

“How do you know that he didn’t come?”, Omar questioned.

Abdul scratched his head. He had practiced his answer for quite some time but at that moment he hoped, his courage gave space for his throat to expand.

“Wisam Bhai came there and he told me to leave”

It was months before he last met his savior “Wisam Ahmed Kashmiri”, a pure jihadi. Omar lost his family to the American’s attack but he didn’t lose his trusted friend. He thought he died during the raids. He closed his eyes and swelled, “Allah hu akbar”. With happiness crowding his mind, he didn’t forget to question himself on Wisam’s presence at that spot. He thought he would hold the question unanswered for his bhai.

“Did you destroy the bodies from the warehouse?”

“Ya bhai. We placed the bodies there. No one could identify who are them. They would think it would be some people who came there for dinner…”

“Teek hai”, Omar began to move away into his room. They lived in a very small warehouse. Unlike the one in America, this was used very rarely. Mostly on situations like today. Omar got intelligence report from Munavar, ISI agent, that an Indian spy has tracked him down to Sweden and he thought, he would greet his counterpart with a warm welcome. 

“Wisam is here. He has taken three hostages from the restaurant?”

“Hostages? When did we start doing kidnapper’s work? Ask him to come inside. Don’t come inside”, Omar was angry over Wisam.

Wisam walked into the room with self doubt but Omar, whose anger vanished in thin air, embraced him with a huge hug which he reciprocated. They exchanged greetings over a very small talk. 

“Now tell me, why have you taken hostages?”

“Omar bhai, you would always know. Our brothers were about to execute those three Indians. A girl and two mens but I found out that those bodies alive more than dead would be more profitable”

Omar listened keenly to his words.

“Guru, Varun and Ahalya, these three have ties with people whom we detest the most. Guru’s father is a Lieutenant General in Indian army, Varun’s family runs Rig chemicals – They are the most popular family run business in india next to Tata and Ahalya’s grandfather was a politician with ties. This would help us a lot.”

“Wisam, you never fail to amaze me. So what do you propose?”

“Simple bhai, our job here is done. We need to be in India.”

The rain had stopped and the sky was clear to fly. 

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

After a few hours, Guru opened his eyes straining his eyelids. It was heavier than he once felt. He couldn’t recollect what had just happened. It took a few more seconds to understand that he had got caught in the middle of a bomb blast. His first impulse was to search for her. She was not there or at least he couldn’t see and then he remembered about Varun. To the contrary to his own belief on life being more important anything else, he felt different. He wanted to die. This bomb was an heavenly intervention, it could be but a failed one too.

“Ahalya…”, He tried to voice but his voice was very much strained.

“mmm”, a moaning came from a bit far. He looked around to make his eyes get accustomed to the darkness and the room he was in. It was a slim room; he was caught in between two walls. He tried to knock on the walls and it sounded metallic. It was some kind of vehicle. He was being carried to some place. 

Confused, he got up and walked further. He stumbled upon something soft.  “Awh…”, a small sound escaped.

I kneeled down and tried to feel it. It was the belly of Varun which he had accidently knocked.

“Varun? Is that you?”, Guru asked with genuine concern.

“No man… it was my grand father. Darn you take your hands off my belly, I feel shy”, Varun blushed and laid back.

“oops sorry man…” 

“mmm”, There was a moaning. It must have been Ahalya. 

“Ahalya???”, He shouted without giving thought about a chance of his captor being around.

“mmmmm mmmmm”

“Ahalya… continue the sound. I will use it to find you”

She made the ‘mmmm’ sound continuously for Guru to find her.

Guru traced his path towards the sound. 

She was lying in the farthest corner of the vehicle. He made her get up and pulled the cloth out of her mouth. 

“Why did the kidnapper stuff a cloth inside your mouth?”

Before he could finish the question, the vehicle stopped and the door slided open and a silhouette of a strong man entered the vehicle.

“Because she never shuts!!!”, he shouted.

…………………………………………………………………………..

The Next part of this story could be seen in Karthik Kamalakannan's blog. Unfortunately i don't know his blog address as he had not updated the document so i will update it once he does that.