Read the first part of
the story here and the previous part here.
-o-
“How did it get so
late so soon?” Kareem asked his school
principal, sitting in the park. “How could I go so wrong, sir? When did I divert
so far away from your teachings?”
“No matter how far
you have gone on a wrong road, turn back.”
Mr. Nair replied placing his hand on Kareem’s head. “There’s never a right time
to do the wrong thing and never a wrong time to do the right thing. I have been
proud of you all my life. It’s still not late, choose the right path now”
“Insha'Allah! I will
sir. Now there’s nothing left to do but go back. Trace my wrong steps and make
it right any way I can.”
Jennifer brushed off the solitary tear that escaped watching Kareem and Mr.
Nair hug from the distance, securely hidden behind a dumpster. Her heart
swelled with love for Kareem all over again. This is the one she fell for all
those years ago.
-o-
“Where are you taking
us?” Tara asked the masked man who stood there in van pointing his rifle at
their, her and other 3 media personnel, heads.
That man just stood there
glaring at them one by one.
“So, you’re not the one
in lead? Or even you don’t know where that boss of yours’ is taking us to?”
Tara taunted him, in spite of the fear that clutched her heart.
He still stood there
silently, throwing murderous looks towards Tara particularly.
Tara would be lying if
she said she wasn’t scared but not so much for her safety, she guessed there
was a reason why they chose media members particularly from the crowd of
hundreds of observers. She knew they needed her and her other 3 fellow members
alive, for now at least.
Hell! She even day
dreamed of being held hostage, if only to put her spy cam-recorder to use
someday, the one tailored in her shoe. It was difficult given the situation
with all their hands tied to the central pole in the centre of the van, with
four of them sitting like lions in Emblem of India. She tried getting her shoe
as angled towards the face of their captor as she could.
-o-
“Ustaad!” Aryan bowed
in respect as he was called in to meet.
“As-salamu alaykum! Kaho kya khabar
hai hindustaan ki?” The voice boomed in the closed room. Unable to see the
source of the voice Aryan looked around hoping to find his godfather.
“Ustaad bas akhiri maukaam aa gya hai. Humare do log is waqt research centre
par kabza karte hi honge. Insha'Allah mission kamyaab ho kar hi rahega.”
“Hmmm. Insha'Allah allah
tumhara saath de. Khuda Hafiz.”
“Khuda Hafiz.” Aryan bowed again and left.
-o-
Jennifer woke up dazed.
Looking around she gathered she was in a hospital, but she didn’t remember
coming here. She checked her wrist for time but stopped short, horrified to
find blood on her hands. She didn’t remember how it got there.
A nurse came in the
room, reaching for the monitors to check on Jennifer. “Excuse me. How did I come
here? What happened to me?”
Nurse looked at her
with sympathetic eyes. “Miss. It’s ok, you have mild concussion. You hit your
head when you fainted on the road. Doctor gave you some flat Anaesthesia to
keep you sedated till you recover.”
Fainted.
Where did I… stunned she could now remember
everything. She was waiting at the point where Kareem had asked her to meet
after meeting up with the principal. She remembered waiting there for 15
minutes till someone Principal called on her phone.
“Hello!
Sir?”
“Hello!
Miss Ahana, is it?” Some unknown voice answered.
“Yes!
Who is this?”
“Miss
I am inspector Sharma, I am sorry to inform you that the person who this phone
belonged to was just found dead here in an alley. I am trying to locate his
relatives. Yours was the last number received on this phone. Do you know any of
his relatives?”
Jennifer
stood there scared-stiff. Dead. Sir? Dead. But I saw him half hour ago in the
park with Kareem.
“Hello
miss! Is anybody there?”
“Hello
officer. Yes, yes I do know his daughter. I’ll convey the message right away.”
“Thank
you miss.”
Kareem!!
Dialling principal’s daughter’s number she started running back towards the
park where she had last seen Kareem. But she didn’t have to run too far, not 20
feet away from where she was supposed to meet him 15 minutes ago, lay Kareem
surrounded in his own blood, lifeless, limp. His face ashen, eyes closed, his
hands open wide palm facing upwards.
“Kareeeeeeem!
No no noooooooo!” Jennifer rushed upto where he lay. Pressing with bohe her
hands over his heart, she tried giving him CPR. “Wake up! Kareem you can’t do
this to me!” Pumping over and over again she kept up her tries. Wake up! Kareem
we have so many wrong to be made right. Kareem! Kareem!...”
Her hands. This was
Kareem’s blood. Her love, her life. Everything that now would remain incomplete…
without him.
-o-
The other terrorist who was till now engaged
with the van’s driver, came into the back compartment. Tara cunningly but
subtly crossed her legs in order to capture the new face in her hidden shoe
cam-recorder. She’ll need it, if she survived this.
“How much more time
will it take?” The masked man who stood with his rifle, asked the new entrant.
“About half an hour.
This Delhi traffic! Even in the time of national crisis, these people still
have got places to go!” He said in irritation and spat on the Van’s floor.
“So you knew where we
are going.” Tara interjected smirking up at the masked man. Other hostages
squirmed in fear, nudging Tara to stop provoking them.
Second terrorist,
though not masked in fabric had a face as expressionless as a pumpkin, wearing
a mask or another kind. “What is she talking about?”
“Nothing! I think she
is overly excited about getting killed.” Masked man finally addressed her, almost.
“We are not killing
them yet. Not until they have served their purpose. Not until we get our orders
from Ustaad.”
“Where are you taking
us? And why?” Tara interjected again. Pulling knees towards her shoulders.
Second man eyed her in
contempt. Crouching in front of her, he regarded her with narrowed eyes. “If you
really want to know, I’ll tell you.” Smiling wickedly he continued “From here
we are going to reach the Ferozeshah Kotla stadium. Once there, we
will make you media monkeys to jump through some hoops and then when we are
done with you, we’ll blow you all up with the stadium. BOOM!”
Tara sat there gaping
at him.
-o-o-
Read the next part of the
story here.
Flowers from the Storm by Laura Kinsale
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