Stick To The Script

By Shreshth Vashisht

On an autumn morning of mid-November, as the final call of the passenger going from Jammu to New Delhi was being announced, a family of four, came running through the gates of the railway station. The husband yells, “Get in here! This is the way to the platform”. His wife answers, “I am coming, I am coming” while gasping for air. Their Taxi had broken down 2 km back and the couple has been running for the train, the father rolling a 5kg suitcase uphill with a backpack carrying his laptop and the mother carrying their twins.

“Why are you so slow, we will miss the train, had you not taken so much time cooking for the train, we would have reached here 30 min back”, roared the husband.

“Had you just taken the other cab which I pointed towards, we would not have run two kilometres and you just had to roll the wheels and carry that laptop of yours. I had to carry these two 3-year-old girls, mind you much heavier, less ergonomic and without wheels” snarked the wife, in her mind of course. She really wouldn’t want a bruise before her brother’s wedding and definitely wouldn’t want to be hit in front of so many strangers walking around the railway station, nor that anyone would care, nobody at the airport did last January. She just silently suffered trying to tune out his voice.

As the train was put in the first gear the family boarded the train. When they entered the AC Two-Tier, the mother put her daughters down and said “Beta, please walk now as Mumma is tired, okay?”, the twins nodded in coherence. That cute patented nod of a child; thrice in a manner that it put a smile on the faces of those around, except their other parent of course who wanted a male brat over these angels.

The family settled in their berths, they had 3 bunks, the top 2 and the one on the left. The one on right belonged to a young woman no older than 25, who was working on her laptop, typing something. The man noticed that, she was wearing a dark jean, boots, a nice fur coat over a tank top. She had a great figure, the hour-glass type like that of a model, a perfect jawline, light brown eyes, and jet-black thick hair tied in a pony tail. Ironically this animal, never even cares to look at the mother of his child anymore post the birth of their daughters. The humane wife noticed that this woman has a bandaged hand and some bruises on her pretty face as if she had a fight or something. Bit of sadness in her eyes as if she had lost something or someone, and she is trying to supress those feelings, yet physically she looked strong, very sporty as if she spars, as if she is a warrior of some sort.

“OH, NOW THIS” shouted the husband, as he was sitting beside his ‘prey’ “you got us the top bunks, I am his sister’s husband, he should have gotten us a flight ticket, rich like me don’t travel in train like this, at least get us premium tickets for god’s sake! He turned towards the woman and just as he moved his hand forward for a handshake saying, “Hi, my name is……. “

“Let me stop you right there, I don’t care who you are and you need to get off my berth, and if you are so rich why do you want someone else to buy your tickets”, the women said, in a sweet but stern, confident voice, the kind that repels weak minded men who thinks of woman as the secondary sex. On listening to this a rainbow of expression was seen on the man’s face changing faster than the time taken for the employees of SBI to leave for lunch. First, he gave a silly smile, then he was confused, then he was angry and later he did a 2 step walk of shame back to his own berth.

The twins giggled and the wife thought to herself, “looks like a butterfly but stings like a bee, I am going to really enjoy this ride” as she actioned her daughters to stop laughing at their other parent. Sadly, the husband felt like the lady was actually flirting with him, and started thinking of some romantic song to sing at her and moved towards the vestibule of the train to think of a good song.

A TT came and asked for, Ms. Rubaida, over here the pretty lady said, he nodded, marked her in this digital tablet and moved on.

“So Rubaida ji”, asked the wife, “are you also going to Delhi? “.

“Yes, I am”, Rubaida replied with a smile and looking at the twins said, “they are really pretty”.

How did you get hurt?

I slipped.

Oh, I see.

Rubaida closed her eyes after this brief conversation and remembers the real reason, behind the injury. She remembers the explosion, she hears the Americans breaching, fire all around, bullets spraying, men shouting in Pashto, her husband along with her two-sister wives dead, an infant crying and then waking up in a hospital.

“Some idiot went to the bathroom and did not flush” said a woman as she passed by,” what an uncultured swine”.

The husband who had returned by that time was giggling and looked somewhat proud at what he had done, Rubaida whose chain of thought was broken at that time due to the comment of the passing woman understood who the idiot uncultured swine was and sadly looked at his wife, who knew that her husband would behave how he does back at home in the train as well.

As that animal began humming to sing the song of whose lyrics he was googling in the bathroom, the train stopped at the Pathankot Cantt station. “Good timing”, thought both the woman as they knew what the husband was trying to do and so did the twins who had already kept their hands on their ears to protect them from their other parent’s horrible singing.

When the husband tried to sing again, an army officer along with few soldiers entered the coach and sat in the compartment opposite to Rubaida and that family. The accompanying soldiers slid the officer’s trunk under the berth, saluted and deboarded the train. The husband gave the officer the side eye while the wife and the twins looked at him in awe. His personality, demeanour, aura and his posture, the built so perfect, so gentle yet so sturdy, something these ladies do not see at their home, which is reminded to them when they turn towards the so-called head of their family digging his nose.

Rubaida was looking at her laptop and still typing, she had not even turned to look at who boarded and who de-boarded, her attention diverted towards the army official when one of the twins asked him why he has one hand. When Rubaida turned she recognised a very familiar face, whom she knew only by the code name Stallion.

Rubaida zoned out, she was transported to 5 years back when she was transferred to R&AW’s PAI Desk, Pakistan, Afghanistan and Iran desk. She met Stallion for the first time over there, he was her handler, she along with 2 more women were supposed to infiltrate the Haqqani Network as the brides to one of their top officials.

For 2 years they were trained, in everything an afghani women should know, they had aliases, fake name, families, birthdays, the perfect accent, the looks, the cuisine, the history, the culture, everything to the point that sometimes even these women used to forget who they were and what was their real identity. When their handler and the R&AW Chief was satisfied, they were married to the official.

Their husband was not as savage as those who are not in the intelligence background would perceive. He actually treated them with respect, while he had placed strict rules and regulations on his wives, it was nothing which was not expected of those who had been trained in Pakistan in the Deobandi School of Islam by the Ulemas of Saudi Arabia, with the help of America to fight the Soviets. They were not in particular disrespectful towards women, the case on the contrair was that they were trained in such a manner that to protect the students from distraction when being trained, the Ulemas ingrained the thought that women have no role to play in the public life and their main role is inside the house. These students were called Talibs, Arabic for student.

Later one of the students became a warlord and an insurgent commander during the anti-Soviet war. Post war, this student named Jalaluddin Haqqani formed the Haqqani network, who was also the closest mentor of Osama. Jalaluddin who had then aligned with Taliban and became the group’s Tribal Minister during their reign from mid to late 1990’s. Today Sirajuddin Haqqani, leads the network and is the current home minister of Afghanistan.

This network is nothing but a group of mercenaries and Pakistan normally pays them to undertake terrorist activity in India, India just doubles the amount by Pakistan.

Rubaida and others were married to the official because he and Haqqani Jr. are childhood friends. The mission was to keep an eye, locate the assets working for the Pakistani intelligence agency ISI, and ensure that the Network is not swayed by any ideology and is still loyal to cash.

Theoretically, the mission was not difficult as the assets and exit strategies were in place. But practically, laying next to someone, night after night was difficult, and even more difficult was to not develop any kind of feelings towards the person, of hate, of love, of anything. The reason a trio was sent to infiltrate was to ensure that each acted as a check onto the other and become an emotional support pillar as well as a reminder of their loyalty, their allegiances, to India.

Their mission direction was nothing but one, “Stick to the Script”.

Rubia ji, Rubia ji, someone tapped on Rubaida’s shoulder as she opened her eyes it was the disgusting man sitting uncomfortably close to her with a small bottle of Lahori Jeera. He was so uncomfortably close that she could smell his lecherous behaviour engulfed in the smell of the pan masala which he had been eating in the vestibule and she could very clearly see the piece of pea he might have eaten last night stuck in his yellow and red teeth, this man was no champion of oral hygiene or of any kind for that matter.

Oh My God! shouted Rubaida as she threw the bottle away.

She was both angry and surprised how this man has not evolved beyond his basic animal instinct and the audacity he had, “and here we think the afghani are barbarians”, she thought.

The R&AW agent stood up, grabbed the animal by the neck as if he was some dirty mutt and as she was about to beat him in that small space, when she turned towards the daughters and wife, a wife who was not even looking her in the eye as she was so ashamed of not him but herself and as Rubaida clenched her fist she saw that gleam of excitement in the eyes of the twins as if they wanted their father to be beaten. But, Rubaida stopped as apart from the hope in their eyes, she also noticed the fear all over their face, of what their father might to do to their mother. She was able to gauge it because one, the twins had grabbed their mother in a defensive position as if this was nothing new to them and it was instinctively their task to protect their mother normally from their other parent. Two, the wife had nail marks on her neck as if someone had grabbed it. Rubaida knew that it was the husband as his long dirty nails were actually very hard to ignore. Third, as the wife could not look Rubaida in the eye she had turned her face and was looking outside the window thus, Rubaida could see cut and burn mark. Her husband must have thrown a cup of hot beverage at her and the cup broke, cutting her while the hot beverage burned her.

Rubaida saw the crowd gather around their compartment. She could feel the train slowing down, they were about to reach Ludhiana Junction, the train was supposed to halt over there for 10 minutes, or even more due to the smog which has been over there due to the stubble burning. She was aware that the railway protection forces, and the local police would come and arrest this man. But that would be just a matter of huge inconvenience to this woman and the girls, so she stopped and flung him across to the army officer’s berth who was using the facilities at that time and said, “it’s Rubaida not Rubia”. Walked away and stepped down at the platform with her laptop so she could just get away from all of it for the time being.

As Rubaida walked across the junction she could feel that though she had left Afghanistan behind, she was still following a script, a different one of course.

As Rubaida was exiting from one end of the train, the army officer came running pushing people to reach his compartment via that narrow alley. As soon as he reached, he was able to make out from the defensive position of the kids around the mother, the husband crashed on his berth with a red mark on his neck, and Rubaida missing along with her laptop what had happened.

The man was struggling to sit straight due to his protruding belly and his short legs after he was flung across. As he struggled to sit straight this patriarch was using the two neurons in his brain trying to ascertain how much the pretty woman was ‘into’ him as she just flirted with him by touching his neck and mind you during the whole time this patriarch was just staring at her breasts and he was actually brimming with the sense of achievement when he got to see them up close when Rubaida grabbed him, truly the extent of how thick skinned and toxic can someone actually be sometimes just surprises you.

The army officer stood in front of his compartment, in his thick, stern but gentle voice ordered to the crowd, “the show’s over, go back to your seat. Next time just don’t keep staring, and do something to stop the harassment. It really pains us to see the lot for which we have to make such huge sacrifices “as he pointed towards his empty sleeve.

The crowd dispersed instantaneously, except one young man in his mid-twenties who had been eyeing for the wife and was waiting to swoop down like a vulture. To him the army official said with a cold voice, blank eyes, and a big scary smile but extremely sweetly as if talking to a child,” are you waiting for the post credit scenes? A very cold shiver went down the young one’s spine as if death was standing in front of him. The officer’s sinister smile made the young man remember all of his sins; the officer’s voice was so called that one could here the crackling over the windows as if frost has been setting all over it. The young one froze; the officer looked him in his eyes and signalled once again just from his eyes to get back on his seat.

The army officer was a key official of the military intelligence. He was one man you would call when information has to be extracted from an individual for which he used to adopt some very colourful, a little distasteful yet extremely effective way. In order to extract the information, he just gives a person a crash course on what is stored for them in hell. While this kills a small piece of his humanity every time, he feels that smile helps him to hold on to it, but unfortunately the role he plays as an extractor of sorts impacts that smile and imparts it that ghoulish tinge.

People have a tendency to get off the train as soon as it stops to stretch their legs, especially the halt is for as long as 10 minutes, but no one except one had the guts to move from their seats. The one exception was none other than the little goblin of a man, the husband who had been first scoffing at the harassment remark and later fantasising about Rubaida and had missed the whole bout of winter in the coach.

As he stood up to pursue Rubaida and ‘seal the deal’, his wife pursued him to stop her husband from doing any more deplorable mistakes, but slipped on the liquid spilled when Rubaida threw the bottle earlier. Instantaneously the army officer caught her, his arm was firm and gentle. The woman somehow felt the warmth of safety and security and the officer very gracefully helped her to regain her balance. The physical contact between the wife and the army officer was minimal. There was a sense of purity all across the movement, whose warmth and compassion, heated the earlier bout of winter and the passengers could feel the calm and were actually relaxed, still no one had the courage to move.

“Thank you bhaisahab “, said the wife.

“How dare you? You cheating bitch”, shouted the husband.

“How dare you let a strange man to touch you?

This is how you repay everything I do for you?

I know you slipped purposely! “

“I slipped and he caught me, end of the tale, he was gentler and more compassionate to me than you will ever be to anyone across your whole miserable life, your filthy low life”, said the wife, in her mind…

… or so she thought…

… she did speak the statement in her mind, but somehow Rubaida attitude was contagious, her stink of confidence rubbed a bit on the Wife.

As soon as the wife realised this, she started crying fearing what he could do to her and tearfully said, “no sorry, I mean, I am sorry”.

So now you have forgotten your manners as well? Don’t you remember the lessons I taught when you married me? Didn’t I whip manner into you, since your parents didn’t teach them?

The passengers of the coach, could actually feel the cringe due to the whole toxic masculinity, and actually could fell the suffocation, but nobody had the guts to move, and everyone expected the other to move first.

“No, you will not hit her”, said one daughter.

“If you hit her, I will call the police,” said her twin.

“We have seen in TV it is a crime”, said the first.

“Yes yes”, nodded the other.

The daughters for the first time stood against their other parent. They were so scared that during this conversation they had their eyes closed but somewhere in her heart they had the courage to speak up.

The wife was not the only one who had internalised certain traits from Rubaida

So, now you little witches will call the police one me, let me teach you a lesson as well, said their other parent who was just about to hit them. But his hand wont move, it was held in a tight grip, as if it was the death grip of King Cobra. He could feel this satanic presence, the mercury dropping. He felt as if that a huge 100 ft tall figure was behind him, and the man was not the only one, all the passenger felt this. The difference between their capabilities was huge. It was like the Ajanta painting in which Siddhartha Gautam returning to his kingdom, Kosala after attaining nirvana and his wife and his son are shown in miniature form and Buddha is shown as a tall divine being. Only in this case the aura around the army officer was not divine but as if he was the devil incarnate himself. People could feel the frost not only on the windows but even inside the coach, some even claimed they could see the fog.

“Leave me you one handed swine, let me turn around and then I will show you how a real man fights”, said the patriarch as he struggled to move his hand in a shrieky voice as if he was just about to cry.

The officer released his grip, as the man turned around officer swiftly using his index finger pressed the pressure points around the elbows knocking the other parent’s arms down, he couldn’t move them no matter how much the patriarch struggled. As their eyes locked the male could see the officer’s hand moving like Grim Reaper’s Scythe as he grabbed the hair behind the man’s head. The officer next pinned the husband’s feet by stomping over them by his left feet and the officer stretched his other leg forward as if taking a huge stride and as he had grabbed the husband’s head the husband was now in a backward arch. The scene was like those rock cut sculptures engraved on grand temples made by the Chola kings or like those intricately carved on the walls of the Khajuraho.

The officer then whispered something in the man’s ear, no body could hear it but everyone was looking at this one-sided beat down, no matter the amount of fear instilled, Indians, could never miss the drama and the entertainment. Everyone did see the man’s eyes blacking out, his body turning pale, and his pant getting wet.

“These boots are new, don’t wet them”, said the officer as he unpinned the man’s leg

Thud!

The man fell.

He came back to his senses due to the fall and he just turned and ran away towards the junction.

The officer turned around and saw everyone had surrounded them as if it was an underground street fight and before he said anything, everyone went back to their seats, except of course that 20 something guy, to whom the officer again in his cold voice, with blank eyes and sinister smile, very sweetly said, “Do you want me to get you popcorn?”, and the officer exited from the other gate. The guy just stood still, like a robot, till the officer deboarded at Delhi.

Everyone speculated what the officer said, some even contemplated what if the officer had both his arms? Some especially the twenty-something guy felt that he was a ghost who died long time back during the wars and they book his ticket, every year to remember his valour. The 20 something guy had a nightmare after that incident and ironically, he was a criminal lawyer who used to protect his clients from sexual harassment and other cases but now he runs a very successful legal aid for distressed women and is a celebrated women rights lawyer who often narrates the story of the ghost of the deceased army man at his TED Talks.

The husband, as he was running on the platform, slowed down and thought to himself, “that damn woman, Rubia, it is all because of her, let me find her and let me show her who a real man is, not like that one-armed bastard, I don’t fight disabled people else I would have beaten him black and blue, and I don’t know what kind of army hypnosis he did to get the better of me, bloody crippled. I will teach that cheating wife of mine a sweet lesson let me see how she enjoys her brother’s wedding with a blue eye and broken arm. Once I get rid of her then I would sell these girls to someone. I have heard of these foreigners who buy kids, at least I would get money out of these witches. Then I would leave my wife at her brother’s place, after that I would marry someone who could give me a son.

As he was thinking all this, he encountered Rubaida. He thought of throwing himself on the prey and pinning her down from his weigh. Rubaida was sitting on a bench, her laptop was on the seat beside her, the visibility was very low due to the smog, but the R&AW agent being very sharp sensed him.

As the man pounced on her she jumped gracefully, flipped as the man went below her crashing into the pole. The agent flipped and landed on her middle and index fingers, doing a perfect handstand with only two fingers supporting her weight.

The man’s toxic masculinity kept him going, he again rushed with his fists clenched trying to punch her. Before he could punch, agent Rubaida, punched him in the gut. The time stopped for the animal, he coughed blood and fell on a bench holding his stomach.

The residual toxic masculinity gave him some strength to say the words, “you Bit...”

Before he could complete Rubaida slapped him.

He could not understand what happened just a tooth fell out, then she slapped him again, and again and again though she planned on hitting him till he bleeds out his toxicity but just wanted to finish him and lifted the laptop to end him.

“Please stop”, said the officer, that’s government property and last I checked in India murder is crime.

“You just want us to follow some script, stay mum, stay calm, just adjust, just be patient, always stick to the script, stick to that script, stick to this script, what script. What is this script? Who decides this script? Why can’t I write my own script? Why can’t I stick to one script? What is this injustice? What is this mirage of liberty? If I don’t have any real choice just bouncing off from one script to other then isn’t democracy just a myth. Don’t say this don’t say that, if you say this you are anti-religion, if you say that you are anti-development, if you point any other flaw, you are anti-national. What the hell, I am anti-national? Some pseudo-nationalist who does not even pay his full tax, promotes corruption and at the end calls me anti-national “

Woah, woah, what is all this talk, aren’t we digressing from the topic?

“Well, I got into debate with some Ulemas and then with some politicians of the ruling party, who came for campaigning”, replied Rubaida with one eye closed tongue out as she was kind of proud as well as little embarrassed of her mischief. Well, she was entitled to some post her assignment, wasn’t she?

“Also, the script you refer to is all for the nation, my friend, all for the nation.”

“Now let me look at this animal you just tamed”, the officer said as manipulated the husband’s pressure points. The husband stood-up, the officer ordered him to not say any word of this incident, the man nodded and went inside the cabin, bloodied, coughing, everyone thought the officer did this, nobody heard his voice for the rest of the trip, just some coughing and occasional sobbing.

The officer and Rubaida for the first time had a moment to chat as no one could see them in the smog nor hear them in the hustle bustle of the junction.

They finally took a nice glance at each other after a very long time, the last time they saw each other was in the hospital post Afghanistan operation went wrong.

“So, you never told me what happened to your arm”

“You will be briefed by the Chief, I am not to narrate or comment upon the incidents and details of the mission”

“Ok! Ok! You organisation man! Seriously! How do you follow them all? These rules and regulations just suffocate me”.

“Well, I don’t blame you, I am also going to quit the intelligence agencies and they will send me back to some desk jobs. They won’t give me a bionic arm, because they think it would be bio-hacked or something, so they don’t need a one-armed man doing the intelligence work.”

“Why don’t you buy it?”

“I am not that target husband of yours who had millions here and there by selling all that opium, and all that mercenary money he got, and I heard he had a lot of gold coins”

“Oh yes, he was filthy rich! You know one could get used to that kind of lifestyle, it was not half bad. Interestingly he used to own a lot of land and they used to dig a lot of artifacts, gold coins and stuff like that and most of them used to belong to the Indian kings of the ancient era. Then these men used to talk about them, and throw these wrong theories here and there. As you know I am a history graduate, these people sometimes used to throw such stupid theories around that I was this close to breaking the cover”.

“Hahaha”, laughed the army officer,” looks like you are healing well”, he said with a smile.

“I am, thank you for saving me back then, I never thanked you for it did I? “

“No, you didn’t, and no need to. I was just doing my job”.

Both of them just needed this jovial banter. It was after such a long time that they had talked about these things and not everything was about the mission. While the mental fortitude of the officers of the clandestine services is really high, there are these cracks which leak sometimes. While the cracks are not going to enlarge and break the dam, such fun conversations ensure that these cracks are also sealed and the officer is not just a persona or a hollow shell and actually has an identity to which they can cling to.

“One last thing” said Rubaida in a bit serious tone as both of them approached the train which was ready to leave, “What about that baby boy? You do know that it was all because of him?

“I did what I had to do” said the officer, “now let’s go before people get suspicious”.

Rubaida had a million questions, but she knew that she had to wait for the Chief to answer them.

The wife and the twins were sitting on the berth, while the husband was sleeping/ unconscious on the upper berth. Rubaida came and sat down on her seat. Then came the officer with two lollipops for the kids who licked them very happily for about half an hour.

The train departed towards its final destination. The capital of the nation, New Delhi.

About half an hour later the wife tried to break the ice with Rubaida to apologise to Rubaida for her husband’s misdeeds.

She opened her casserole; she had made Kashmiri Dum Aloo with some Soya Bean and Mushroom Biryani. Along with this in a nicely sealed box was cucumber, tomato and onion curd, the aroma made the whole coach hungry, after all they could not go to buy something from the junction.

The wife offered it to Rubaida, who though wanted to decline, could not do so as she smelled what happened to be few of her favourite dishes.

“Oh, this is delicious”, Rubaida said as she took her first bite.

“I am ... I am really sorry”, said the wife, I know there is nothing I can do to apologise but still I am really really sorry for his behaviour.

“Oh, it’s fine”, said Rubaida casually as she took another bite of the delicious meal, “and look, karma got to him, so it’s all fine”.

“This is so tasty! You have to give me the recipe”

“It is kind of a family thing, passed on from mothers to their daughters for a very long time, I am really glad you liked it”, said the wife proudly with a smile.

The wife also offered some of it to her twins and the officer, all three of them politely declined, the officer because of his training, the twins because of the lollipop.

After the meal, the twins were fast asleep, Capital was just an hour away, Rubaida felt little uneasy, little nauseous, so she went to the vestibule to get some air.

She was really puckish, as she stood along the washbasin, and saw her face in the mirror, she knew what was wrong, she was poisoned by the wife!!

The wife came into the vestibule and she found Rubaida, all nauseous and weighing against the basin.

“It’s going to pass; it happens when you are expecting. You are I would say a month along”, said the wife

Rubaida’s eyes widened, she was really surprised, first on how wrong she was about that poison thing and how she is expecting the child of her target, because an Undercover agent getting pregnant sabotaged the whole operation in the first place.

“Are you sure?”, asked Rubaida.

“Yes, I come from a long line of mid-wives and also I am trained gynaecologist so…”

“I can even tell the gender of the child in a few months from the way you walk”, said the wife, one could see the gleam in her eyes.

Rubaida, almost teared up and as she hugged the wife and in her weak voice she said, “So smart still you married that guy”.

They hugged in silence for a minute after that comment.

Both of them swiftly went back to their seats.

The army officer knew what had happened. He was able to read their lip movement from the window of the door separating the coach and the vestibule. No privacy when this guy is around.

The rest of the journey was quiet, the wife sleeping with her kids and Rubaida thinking about what kind of script she has to stick to, now that she is expecting.

The trained stopped, it was in NDLS.

Two soldiers came in, took the officer’s things and all three moved out.

The army officer and Rubaida sat in the car together and moved towards North Block. Before they sat in the car, Rubaida mentioned, “I know what Sofia did and I know why she did it”.

The wife’s brother came to receive her. When he was helping them pick the luggage, the wife said to him, “I want a divorce”.

“First thing after my wedding sister”, replied the brother.

That 20-something man tapped on the brother’s shoulder and gave him his card and said I am going to start a service catering to victims of domestic violence and other cruelties, if you want, I will be happy to help.

Everybody actually forgot about the husband who was just lying there till he was woken up by the janitor who came to clean the coach.

In the north block both the officer and Rubaida were waiting for the R&AW Chief.

As the chief entered, both of them stood up, greetings were shared and all of them sat down.

“Agent Mansoor, I hope the report containing your versions of the event has been submitted.”

“Yes chief”.

“So, let me address the elephant in the room, that would explain your injuries and how our Major lost his arm”.

“Operation Trishul, an infiltration operation, to ensure that our arrangement with the Haqqani network is not disturbed by the ISI and the status quo is maintained. For this, 3 agents; Agent Suhani Gupta, Agent Sofia Hargraves and Agent Rubaida Mansoor were sent undercover. A simple operation in which were married off to the target. The mission was supposed to be 5 years long but was cut short due to an attack by the Americans on the target’s mansion.

What we found was that Agent Hargraves was communicating with Americans with the sole objective of assassinating Sirajuddin Haqqani.

Why you might ask me? Well, the sole reason was power capture, as you might know Agent Hargraves gave birth to a male heir, that baby boy was the heir to the Haqqani Network.”

On listening to this a confused expression was seen across the face of the two listeners. “How is that baby the heir to the network, he is not a Haqqani, is there some problem in the intel?” and similar such questions mushroomed across their minds.

“Yes, you may have a million questions but what I am going to tell you is the truth and only for your ears, confidential information, I believe we owe you that. The person you were married off to was Sirajuddin Haqqani himself and the Americans just killed the afghani Home minister. The world is in turmoil. While they were able to stage it as the attack of Northern Alliance, and of course the Pakistanis played an important part in convincing the Taliban of that and they just got those F-16s as a gift.

Agent Hargraves figured it out, and she wanted to convert the territory of Afghanistan as her son’s empire. She actually got the taste of that power, didn’t she? Do you know she helped us eliminate so many ISI assets in Afghanistan and Pakistan? She just used to switch the messages sent by Haqqani to execute those killings, she helped Haqqani with his finances, she even nursed him when he got sick and whatnot.

Tell me Rubaida, do you really think her contraceptive failed? While we don’t know for sure, I personally, don’t think so. “

As Rubaida sat across the table all confused, she was aware that Sofia was their husband’s favourite but she was not aware that they were this close that he involved her in his business. But she was the last person who would have broken the rules, she has been an agent since she was 14 and she was really good and so perfect, they actually used to look up to her.

“So, Sofia not only did some killing for us, she actually executed some of her own orders, paving a path for her son to be the king. She actually saw the chaos as a ladder to rise up to the top.

She started communicating with the Americans to bring down the other strong faction’s leaders. But at the same time, she was reckless, she brought down too many assets as the same time, ISI got a whiff, they knew something was wrong. The strategic depth which they try to maintain in Afghanistan has never been in so out of depth.

So, they began their own witch hunt, and found out about her via the Americans. Honestly why do people even think that the Americans are their friends, they would do anything to keep a grip on their superpower status.

The ISI fed them some incorrect information about how the Haqqani Network is trying to execute another 9/11 type attack on the American soil and it was enough for the Americans to launch an attack of their own.

Ironically, we knew that it was supposed to happen, by us I mean the IB who got it from Mumbai Anti-terrorist cell but they did not share the information with us and they shared it with the military intelligence first and as Stallion is our liaison officer, he launched the extraction operation but too little too late. So much for inter-agency coordination.

According to Major’s report no one survived not even the infant or we could have run the Haqqani Network in his name and that would have eliminated Pakistan’s influence over Afghanistan completely. But it’s fine we would at least be able to explain the Taliban how the ISI was responsible for the death of Haqqani and that would also be a deep blow to them so it’s fine.

That is the detailed summary of the event, detailed ones are already on your desks. This is the end of the meeting so you can leave. Jai Hind”.

Both of them stood up and left, Rubaida was extremely angry because she thought the Major had killed that infant, moreover most of the information given by the Chief was something she had figured out already and she was also furious of the fact that they were married to the leader of the Network. She was even more furious that she was not able to figure out her husband’s true identity while Sofia was able to. Normally she wouldn’t have done but she was so full of rage that she slammed the door really hard on her exit.

There was a blackout, dark all around, no light but only a sound, sound of an alarm ringing.

17 years old Iravan’s eyes opened up, the alarm had been going for the last 3 minutes and he sat up then stood up thinking he was late again.

“That was a really detailed dream, just like one of those action comics I like to read”, he thought.

“So, I was up watching that Kartik Aryan monologue movie and that’s where I got that ‘Sticking to Script’ part. Ah!! I really need to start sleeping on time.

Now where is my bio-hacking project?”

“Oh! Bio-hacking!”, Iravan exclaimed as he clicked his fingers, “that was the thing with the Major’s arm.”

As he went to the dining table a familiar face was seen, “Daaaadddd you were in my dream again, but this time as some military intelligence guy. You do look better in your moustache though; I recommend that you don’t shave it off”.

“I was in the military intelligence and I would have told you this, but aren’t these dreams of your getting more elaborate? Thanks for the appreciation and I am going to keep the moustache, your mother doesn’t like it though”, said the Major is now at the Major General rank.

“By the way good morning to you too Iravan, I hope you will clean that messy room of yours when you come back, I don’t know how you find anything in that dump”, the major general continued.

“Sir yes sir, good morning to you too sir”, replied Iravan.

“So, tell me about your bio-hacking report, isn’t it too difficult for a 17-year-old?”

“Can I instead tell you about my dream instead? Before I forget about it? Pleasssee? I selected the bio-hacking after getting inspired from your bionic arm. You never told me how you lost it anyway. I mean I know it’s classified and I appreciate you telling me that it is classified you could have made up some story, so thank you for treating me like a responsible adult but why don’t you tell me I promise I won’t tell it to anyone, the most I would do is dream about it.”

“Look son, not everyone is as chirpy as you in the morning, so let me finish this coffee and you tell me what was your dream about? Deal?”.

“Sir, yes sir” said Iravan and he started narrating the story

The Major could oddly relate to the story, and he realised that it was true to its last detail. He wondered how his son would even know these stories let getting them right to the last detail.

The Major calmly listened to his own biography from his son’s mouth once he completed, he pointed out that Iravan was going to be late and Iravan rushed outside. The Major sat there still wondering how he knew all these things.

As Iravan rushed outside, he saw his mother balancing her self on a balancing beam on her index and middle finger, “Woah, you can you do it, at your age, Mom, I mean I can easily but aren’t you like 40?

“Do you want to mysteriously slip and break your arm today, my beloved son?”, said Rubaida, Iravan’s mother who goes by the name Rajni and teaches gymnastics to university students and is also an associate professor of history at the Delhi University.

“Wow, you are really scary! I understand why your gymnastic team doesn’t lose and no student bunks your class, they just feel like you would unalive them”.

“Still not speaking the K word, are we?”

“Nope!”

“By the way I had another dream, told dad about it, do listen to it, and you know those twins, right? Their doctor mother who wants to meet you but are always too busy to meet her, she is making that potato dish you like, I will bring that a tiffin’s worth home, cool?”

“Make it 2 tiffin’s worth and also ask her if she had made Soya Bean and mushroom biryani. I have heard she usually pairs them, also those twins are elder to you and they are really good gymnasts and bright students, make sure you take a page out of their books, also stop speaking all these different things in one go, it is really difficult to follow them all “

“I take this habit from you so it’s kind of your fault, anyway I am off to college, bye bye” and Iravan rushed on his bicycle.

As Rubaida entered the premise major general was sitting with a smile and brought out a small cupcake and said, “Happy birthday Rubaida”.

Rubaida without saying anything picked up the cupcake and ate it, “this is really nice, but I don’t know who this Rubaida is.”

“Oh, let it be, you don’t have to stick to this script in front of me”

Tring Tring Tring Tring

“Look it’s your sister calling all the way from Kathua”, the major said as he handed over the phone.

“Hwello Dwi Dwi, Hvow ayre yvou” (hello di di how are you?), said Rubaida with her mouth stuffed with cupcake.

“Many many happy returns of the day, to you Rubaida!”

“Thank you, but you shouldn’t call me that and my birthday is on 10th January, this is March.”

“Okay, okay, sorry for loving you”, Rubaida’s sister said sarcastically.

“Oh, stop your mellow drama, how is that little devil of yours”

“Oh! He is 18 so today is his driving test, and he is pretty excited for it soon he will go to the NDA, by the way, how is the brigadier? I still remember that day when he came to me with the child and asked me to adopt him, I knew he used to work with you and you were in the intelligence together, but I knew I had to take care of the baby”.

“Well, he is a major general now, and who could have kept an heir of a very evil organisation safe from the government of three nations and other non-state actors but a decorated air force pilot like you”.

“So how is your kid? Still the little devil?”

“Yes, still the little devil”.

“Okay then, talk to you later, I think he is back”.

“Bye”

Call disconnected

“So, I think “, said the Major General, “that we should have named him Abhimanyu, you know the other son of Arjun who learnt all those things in his mother’s womb, instead of Iravan. “

“Why?”

“BECAUSE HE KNOWS THINGS, THINGS HE SHOULDN’T KNOW, IT’S CREEPY”.

“You know I am the one who told him those tales, right? He really used to sleep well after I used to narrate them. He has an eidetic memory and I could not have even guessed that he would remember them, well more like dream about them. Give him some time, he is in college he will forget about him, but aren’t we proud of our 17-year-old college student?”.

“Well, that photographic memory of his does serve him well”.

“My sister was thanking you again, for you know what”.

“Well, she did take good care of him, look at him 6 ft 7 inches monster, going to be part of the Indian Army, if he had not been this tall, he would have got into the air force like his mother”.

“Sofia was in the air force too? You never told me that”.

“I meant your sister”.

“Oh, heh heh my bad. So, I am also leaving, see you later”

The major general was left alone, alone with his thoughts, remembering his last mission on the field, when he landed in Afghanistan. He along with 6 of his most able men went to extract Rubaida and others. But when they saw the American assault in motion, they provided cover fire, ensured that they kill no one and charged in, picked up the infant and Rubaida, as they were the only ones breathing, and rushed towards the extraction point.

But the major general was caught in the blast as he fended off two pathans, who came for the heir. The blast blew all three of them away, while the major was mostly fine, one of the pathans had caught him and refused to leave, his grip was very strong and as the Americans were approaching, they major had no option but to cut his arm off, it was shattered from the blast anyway, he took out his knife, tied a cloth around the wound, injected himself with an adrenalin shot and ran towards the extraction point.

As they entered Indian airspace on their chopper, all three; Rubaida, infant, and the major were taken to Udhampur army hospital and treated. Over there Major along with Rubaida’s sister and a doctor, a confidant of theirs ensured that the infant was declared dead and it was carefully extracted and was delivered in the safety of Rubaida’s sister.

While the operation was not successful at least an infant was saved.

But an ominous aura surrounded the Major General, it felt like water began to freeze and a biblical fog had covered the room, the Major General had an evil thought, he was thinking how beautifully the Haqqani could have been used when a high IQ individual like Iravan and a strong built army man were at it’s helm.

What if, they could control this organisation?

This ominous thought was broken by a call, a call from an encrypted number.”

“Hello, who is this?”

“This is the national security advisor, Major General, soon you will be promoted to lieutenant general and you will be given the green light to commence Operation Pitch Fork, I hope your assets are being groomed”

“Yes sir, one is in college studying biological systems, exoskeletons, bionics and cyber physical systems, the other is going to start his training in the NDA soon.”

Good, if this operation goes through and we can take control of the Network, you will definitely become either the chief of R&AW or the Chief of Army Staff, Jai Hind”.

“Jai Hind”

Call disconnects

The evil thought and the ominous aura reflected nothing but the true personality of the Major General who had been behind all these tragedies all along. He was the one who sabotaged the contraceptive, he was the one who told Sofia what to do, he leaked the information to Americans who leaked it to ISI, but he never wanted the mothers and the kids to die, he wanted 3 heirs, trained by 3 agents and via the network they would have controlled the “Graveyard of Empires”, they could have kept an eye on China and Pakistan, deepened their engagement with Iran, and Central Asian resources could have been accessed easily. This was a long-term plan, which only the then and the subsequent Chief of Army Staff, NSA, Cabinet Secretary and the PM knew about and this was the original aim of operation Trishul.

Major General stuck to a script as well, a script guided by his quest for power, masquerading as national interest, though as unhealthy as the cigar he smokes, but it was also as addictive as his cigar, and nothing was going to stop him till he achieves his end goal.

By Shreshth Vashisht