He came!
Rakshit Mishra 2017A2PS0884P
He came!
Yes, he did come.
He had planned to spend moments with his beloved
He had assured his father of taking their own house
He had vowed to be with his mother at her declining health
He had promised to take his daughter to her favourite place
He had intended to celebrate Raksha Bandhan with his sister
He had agreed to be present home during Diwali, at least this time
He had hastened for a congregation with his friends
He had indeed pledged to serve selflessly for his motherland.
He came!
Yes, he did come,
But wrapped in tricolor
101
Empathy
Rishav Das 2018A7PS0157P
Is it a feeling- a chance uncultured;
Unseen?
Is it the gift an aged hand gives,
The gift a heart of knowing procures?
Is it lent by munificence of circumstance,
Or by morbid transience?
The tryst with one's softer light
That bleeds colour to a world already beauteous,
Thrives in truths untold,
In adventures unraveled,
In mirrors that behold themselves
And in other such realms of consciousness.
Employed to many offices, but borne out of humane earth,
Tis a lovely confluence indeed.
Perhaps a chance uncultured, but not untreasured.
Unseen maybe, but scarce unfelt.
102
Lament
Avadh Harkishanka 2018A3PS0322P
I sit in my chair, staring the flickering light,
Wondering if any darker could be the night.
If only I get up for what’s right,
And get me, myself to fight!
With every flicker, flash the memories,
Just to make me anxious looking for remedies;
Herd mentality drove me to scratch,
My dreams and actions have nothing to match!
Society, peers, family, I have many to blame,
But it’s me who couldn’t make it to hall of fame;
‘It’s never too late’, that’s what they say,
Pondering whether the past is made of clay!
I stand up with all the strength I can stack,
Only to know, it’s courage that I lack.
For a coward, dreaming is also futile,
I sit in my chair, staring the flickering light!
103
Transience
Durjai Sethi
2015A8PS489P
As she sits alone, legs stretched out long, back against the wall,
In front of her, the ticking tower, in all its might stands tall,
As she sits alone, with her cherished tunes, ringing in her head,
Slowly and peacefully, she watches the sun drown in its own red.
She sits alone, alone mind you, not lonely,
For she is blessed with an enviable company,
The gliding wind, which dies down into the east,
This golden hour, to her eyes is indeed a feast.
The wind brushes by, gently kissing her left cheek,
The sun lets out one of its last rays, just to take a peek,
The best part of the day has started to fade away,
"Stop, please, just pause and keep the dusk at bay".
Doesn't she know it's such a vain request,
It's slipping away, it won't obey her behest,
In the dying moments, when bitter acceptance sinks in,
She desires to capture this moment, and take it all in.
"I feel this bliss embracing me",
It gives warmth and oozes glee.
Snap out of this dream, they say,
It's gone now, alike a needle in hay,
This terrible transience trembles all,
Everything is now in an unbreakable fall.
As she sits in the corner they call the lover's spot,
The witness, who has seen honest promises rot,
It has seen "forever" get lost in impermanence,
Now, she has started to become fearful of this transience.
Soon, she won't be able to call herself a part,
Of this "magic",
Which has now become a piece
Of her beating heart.
104
In a way, the world has never known.
Anonymous
Like a sole star in the night sky
A bird wanting to try
I... I want to fly...
In a place where everyone is after just masks
I want to know about bosons and quarks
I wish to experience, to see and learn
More knowledge about everything that surrounds me, is what I yearn
Money can't buy my happiness cause growth is what I want to earn.
A helping heart, a soul who cares
I want to be someone to wipe others tears.
Fake friendships, deceit, loneliness... trust me, I've been through that lane
And so I never want to see my history repeat itself ever again.
There's much more to life than just a friend
I believe in myself... this is never the end.
A spark of light, a ray of hope is how I want to be known
I want to become a leader in a way, the world has never known.
105
-Thummala V V Satya Saran
106
ऐ रे साथी, सनु रे, ज़रा ठहर, पहर एक या दो पल, सही
Saiyedul Islam 2011PH030062P
ऐ रे साथी, सनु रे, ज़रा ठहर, पहर एक या दो पल, सही
आ ल ज़रा सु ता, इस छावँ म, इस दर त म, इस माटी म, सही
ज़रा दखे िनगाह पलट के ,
था बीज कपोल, एक न हा पौधा, कभी
थी बजं र ज़मीन, था शोला आसमा,ं कभी
खना था िमटटी, पलकों से हमने
सीचं ा था इस,े लहू से अपने
है खड़ा, आज बन छावँ , हमारी
है झकु ा, आज बन िफ़ज़ा, हमारी
ना गया, यथ यौवन, हमारा
ना ं है, आसँ ा कल, हमारा
दखे ना साथी, दखे रे, ज़रा ठहर, पहर एक या दो पल, सही
गए, बदल िदन ज़ र, हमारे
गयी ं गज़ु र, वो िखलिखलाहट, िज़द और मबु ािहस, सही
गया आ सलीक़ा, िलहाज़ और स मान, सही
पर है िनयम पर् कृ ित का, बदलाव का, हर सबु ह की साझं का
यों थकता है त,ू ऐ साथी रे
यों गलता है त,ू ऐ साथी रे
गया बदल िदन ज़ र, है
पर है बाक़ी, सहु ाना सफर, अभी
थे चल,े हम इक बग़ीचा लगाने
थे चल,े हम इक बाग़ लगाने
बना िलया है, ये चमन, अपना
जमा िलया है, य े जड, अपनी
है य,े िमठास पसीने की, अपनी
है य,े दा ताँ महे नत की, अपनी
है ना, ये खा मा, ना है ये वैरा य
ना ही है, य े अ सदु गी की आमद
जाग रे, ऐ साथी, जाग रे
ना रे, ना डर रे, मु तक़िबल, स े
है िकया, हर जतन सही, रे
तो यों अब घबराता है रे, कल स े
ऐ रे साथी, सनु रे, ज़रा ठहर, पहर एक या दो पल, सही
ह, िदखते खशु दिरया, उस पार स े
ह, लगते िदलरे दिु नया, उस पार स े
ना है, य े सकु ू न आज़ादी की
ना है, य े ख़शु ी जवानी की
है, ये एहसास िज़ मदे ारी का
ह, ये बेिड़याँ वाबों की
ना गए, वो छोड़ हम
ना जा पाएगं ,े वो छोड़ हम
107
ह यो,ं घबराता त ू कल, स े
ऐ रे साथी, सनु रे, जा ठहर, पहर एक या दो पल, सही
है, व त उनका उड़ने का, अब
है, व त उनका नीवं िबछाने का, अब
ह, लगा घमु ते ये नक़ाब, िसफ
ह, िहलाते हाथ दिरया पार स,े िसफ
ह डरते, िक ना जा पाएगं े दबु ारा
ह डरते, िक ना चकू ा पाएगं ,े एहसान-इ-परविरश
ह डरते, िक ना चल पाएगं ,े सहारे बग़ैर
की, गर आ गए वापस, अभी
की, गर छोड़ िदया रण, अभी
िक, गर गया उतर य े नक़ाब, अभी
ह हम, वजह वजदू की, उनकी
ह हम, वजह बलु िं दयो ं की, उनकी
ऐ रे साथी, रख भरोसा, रे
ह साथ तेरे, के इस पार और उस पार, सभी
ऐ रे साथी, सनु रे, चल उड़ चल, अब हम
चल जी ं ल वाब अधरू े, अपने
ना है, व त ये पसमदं गी का, है व त ये अब जीने का
ऐ रे साथी, सनु रे, ज़रा ठहर, पहर एक या दो पल, सही
108
न ही पिरयां कोई अ सरा से कम है या
Manraj Singh Bhatia 2018B4A30067P
"दवे ी की पजू ा होती है ,अ सरा की नही",
यही कहकर एक बड़े नेता ने मिहला सरु ा का वादा िकया था।
नेताजी तो के वल पांच वष के िलये स ा मे आए
िक तु वह भीड िफर से सौ वष पछे चली गाई।
खबर छपी है,
दो मिहने की कली को िफर कोई हैवान बाग़ से तोड ले गया।
नेताजी ने तो सही कहा था
न ही पिरयां कोई अ सरा से कम है या।
109
पतझड़ म प े जब िगरते होगं े
Digvijay Bansal 2015A3PS0187P
पतझड़ म प े जब िगरते होगं ,े
या कभी िफर िमलते होगं े |
या वो बात परू ी हो पाती होगं ी,
या उस शाखा पर क जाती होगं ी |
िजस शाखा पर वो िखले थ,े
कु छ कहते वो िफर िमले थे |
उनको लगा वो िगरकर सभं ल गए,
जो आसमान म तैरते बेिफक् र थ,े
वो जमीन पर िगरे तो, बस ढेर बन कर जल गए|
तेरी ह को पढता हू,ँ
िकसी परु ानी िच ी की तरह |
जो िकसी िदल ने िलखी थी,
िकसी की यादों म |
तेरी खशु बू है मानो, िकसी सावन की तरह |
जो हमराज़ सी रहती है,
तनहा भीगी रातों म |
ना जाने तू िकसी ि ितज सी लगती है,
िजसे दखे तो सकता हु,ँ
पर छू ना ममु िकन नही ं |
इस लु काछु पी म मने जाना की,
तू मझु मे है पर मरे ा तझु मे होना ममु िकन नही ं |
इस लािलमा का पीछा क ँ ,
या ठहर जाऊँ अपनी ईमारत पर |
ये रात होने द,ँू या पीछा क ँ ,
यिंू क ये रात बगे ैरत कटेगी सबु ह के इतं ज़ार म |
रात का खौफं हो गया है,
दखे ता हूँ ऊपर तो लगता है िक,
ये चादँ क भकत सो गया है |
चादं ना की िकरण तीरो सी लगती है,
लोगो की परछाई सालखों सी लगती है,
सरू ज का डूबना अब बेवजह सा लगता है,
रात का होना अब बस सजा सा लगता है |
110
थोड़ा, सहम जाता हूंॅ म
Sachin Kumar Sharma 2017H1120232P
करना हो तेरे साथ चदं पल ए दीदार
खषु रखु तझु े जब भी रहु तेरे साथ
हर पल रहू तेरे साथ ये कहने म,
‘‘थोड़ा, सहम जाता हूंॅ म‘‘
कु छ परेषानी हो तु हे याद ए िखदमत हो
कु छ तगं ी हो, कु छ बचे ैिनयों िक इ म हो
तेरा साथ दंू उस मिु कल व त म, ये कहने म
‘‘थोड़ा, सहम जाता हूंॅ म‘‘
कभी रा ते ए मिं जल दरू लग,े होसले प त लगे,
जब कोई तु हे अपना ना लग,े सब गैर ए िनसा महषसू हो
तु हे ये बताने के िलए िक तमु कभी अके ली नही
‘‘थोड़ा, सहम जाता हूंॅ म‘‘
चपु के से तु हारे चहे रे का दीदार करना,
तमु दखे ो तो, बड़ी सफाई से नजर हटाना
हर िज दगी िसफ और िसफ तझु े िदलमगर क , ये बताने म
‘‘थोड़ा, सहम जाता हूंॅ म‘‘
जब भी आइने म दखे ,ु उसम तमु मरे े साथ हो
किठन पिरि थितयों म तु हारे आगे खड़ा रहू ं
परू ी िज दगी तु हे समझा क ये बताने म े
‘‘थोड़ा, सहम जाता हूंॅ म‘‘
तमु खषु होती हो, तो बचे ारा िदल िखल उठा है
तमु दःु खी होती हो, तो तड़प के सीना चीर पड़ता है
तु हे िज दगीभर खषु रखगंु ा अपने साथ
ये बताने म ‘‘थोड़ा, सहम जाता हूंॅ म‘‘
111
म सो जर, म और मरे ा दो त
Kartik Patil 2016B3A40571P
म सो जर, म और मरे ा दो त
इस दषे िक सीमाओं पे खड़े इस दषे िक र ा करते ह
हांॅ छु टी िमल जाती ह कभी कभी
घर लौट आते ह
पर ये खत उस व त के िलए है जब म चाह के भी लौट ना सकंू
अगर मरे े चले जाने से तु हारे िदल म जरा सी आह उठे तो
मरे ी मांॅ है, उसका जरा खयाल रखना
बहुत यारी है, िदन भर घर पर रहती है
पर जब वो अके ले बाजार जाये तो उसका बोझ उठा लने ा
अगर कु छ व त तु हे दखे ती रही वो
तो परेषान ना होना, हो सकता है तमु ने उसको मरे ी याद िदला दी
अगर मरे े चले जाने से तु हारे िदल म जरा सी आह उठे तो
मरे े पापा ह, उनका खयाल रखना
बाहर से बहुत स त ह पर िदल से बहुत नरम
यंू तो सब मैनेज कर लते े ह पर अ सर पािकग के िलए शमा जी से लड़ लते े ह
ऐसा करते तु हे िदखे वो तो यार से उनको समझा लने ा
अगर भड़क जाये तमु पे वो तो परेषान ना होना
हो सकता है तमु ने उनको मरे ी याद िदला दी
अगर मरे े चले जाने से तु हारे िदल म जरा सी आह उठे तो
मरे ा छोटा भाई है उसका जरा खयाल रखना
यंू तो सब कु छ है उसके पास पर िदल का बहुत कमजोर है
अगर अके ला उदास चपु चाप खड़ा िदखे वो तो
यार से गले लगा के दो-चार मीठी बाते कर लने ा
अगर उसके आसं ओु ं से तु हारी कमीज भीग जाय े
तो परेषान ना होना, हो सकता है तमु ने उसको मरी याद िदला दी
अगर मरे े चले जाने से तु हारे िदल म जरा सी आह उठे तो
मरे ा एक पिरवार है, जरा उसका खयाल रखना, जरा उसका खयाल रखना।
जय िह द!
112
काश के
Mayank Verma 2017H1420183P
काश के ऎसा हो पाता
म मु कु राकर पास आ पाती तु हारे
हस-बोल के सनु ती,ं और अपनी कु छ सनु ाती
अजं ान नजर औरों की तरह मझु को भी नज़रअदं ाज कर जाती ं l
दो ल ज़ों की गु तगू से दामन पर मरे े खामखा दाग लगा ना होता
काश के सासँ लने ा भी मरे ा, जमु ना होता l
काश के ऎसा हो पाता
वािहश मरे ी 4 लोगों की सोच, की मोहताज ना होती ं
चिू ड़याँ और पायल मरे ी, बेिड़यों की अवाज ना होती ं
िसफ ग दी नज़रों से बचने के िलए,
चु नी मरा िलवाज़ ना होती
िसफ अनजान उंगली के उठ जाने के डर स,े
दबी हुई मरे ी आवाज़ ना होती
काश के हर िर ते की मयादा के खाितर,
घघँू ट मरे ा मान बना ना होता,
काश के सासँ लने ा भी मरे ा जमु ना होता |
काश के दहेज की तरह, म भी पराया धन बन कर ना रह जाती,
बदले मरे े घर के साथ, काश बदली मरे ी पहचान ना जाती,
काश के मरे े मगं लसतू र् की तरह ही, मरे े पित के गले पर भी
दिु नया मरे े हक की िनशानी दखे पाती
िज मदे ारी जैसे मरे ी बन गयी, 'उनके ' पिरवार के दखे भाल की,
थोड़ी सी िज मदे ारी उनके िह से मे मरे े पिरवार की भी आ जाती
काश के िसदं रू मरे े नाम का वो भी मान से भर पाते,
काश के मरे ी, अिधकार पाने की पातर् ता पर सवाल उठा ना होता
काश के सासँ लने ा भी मरे ा जमु ना होता।
काश के िपता ने मझु े भी सहारा माना तो होता
मझु े बाहर के अंधेरे स,े घर पर डराया ना होता,
हर ज रत को मरे ी परू ी करते-करते, मझु े ज रतमदं बनाया ना होता ,
काश के आसमान मरे ा रसोई तक िसमटा ना होता,
मझु े पखं फै ला दने े स,े दहलीज़ पर ही रोका ना होता।
काश के भाई ने कभी तो एक रोटी का कौर ही सही, पकाकर िखलाया तो होता,
उसने पाबिं दयों को मरे े जीवन का िह सा मान लने े के बजाय,
दिु नया से लड़ना एक बार िसखाया तो होता।
माँ का वा स य थोड़ा और मीठा हो जाता,
अगर उसने खदु के अि त व की तरह मझु े हर बात पर दबाया ना होता।
काश के मरे े अपनों की मरे े पर् ित िफकर मरे ी शादी से हटकर,
मरे ी कामयाबी को लके र, या शायद िसफ मरे ी आजादी की हो पाती
काश के अि त व मरे ा औरत होने से पहले एक इसं ान का होता
काश के सासँ लने ा भी मरे ा जमु ना होता।
काश के होने वाले िशशु की तम नाओं म िजक् र मरे ा भी आ जाता,
मरे ी श ल दखे कर िपता की उ सकु ता पर कोहरा सा ना छाता,
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काश के माँ की कोक के िलए, मरे ा अि त व गाली ना होती,
काश के िकसी और की दरकार म,े बारी मरे ी और मरे ी बहनों की आई ना होती।
काश के कसरू मरे ा, मरे े 'होने' का ना होता,
काश के सासँ लने ा भी मरे ा जमु ना होता।
काश के मरे ी ही कॉम, मरे ी सबसे बड़ी दु मन ना होती,
इितहास के प नों पर औरत की कलम सखू ी ना होती,
हर भार बोझ का, हर अहात दसू रो की सोच का,
हर चीज़ पर ताना रोज का, हर अगं ारा आक् रोश का,
साराशं अपने जीवन का बनाया ना होता।
खदु पर हुए अ याचार से डर कर, समाज से हारी ना होती,
चीखकर इस समाज को िदखलाई तो होती,
हैिसयत अपनी 'योिन' से बङकर कु छ और बनायी तो होती।
काश के औरत ने फै सला खदु का, खदु िलखा होता
तो सासँ लने ा भी मरे ा जमु ना होता।
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Short Stories
115
1
It Never Came
Jivat Neet 2017A7PS0050P and Aditya Ramachandran 2017A3PS0339P
Ten...Nine...Eight...Seven…
A tumultuous surge of nausea hit Imran as he stood there, battling himself over the decisions
he’s made. Fearing the ears eagerly awaiting the sound of disaster, miles away, sweat dropped
down the sides of his cheeks and his hands couldn't be stopped from shaking. They said that
Kashmir was heaven on earth, but the present situation told otherwise.
Imran used to frequent this area at 4 daily, the time for his morning Namaz. He was taught to
obey this rule under any circumstance, and he did believe that Allah was there for him, he
was there when he first hurt his leg and also when he was walking down the road without
anything or anyone to call home. It was usual for them to wake up to nothingness. His
transformation as an adult occurred when his Abba died in his arms, at the cusp of war
between Pakistan and India.
Jihad was his answer. With everything gone, he was only left with Allah as his brother in
arms. He finally felt that everything that happened had a cause and the effect of the same was
to liberate everyone from their painful lives. Is life ever good? Who led a good life? These
questions set the benchmark for his future plans to join the terrorists.
Varanasi was difficult for Jai. The air was polluted and his body wasn’t accustomed to the
weather. The people, the population, and the bustle never sat well with him. Regardless, he
had an innate level of comfort in Varanasi, it was his hometown after all. He always managed
to find the rhythm within the chaos and that comforted him. Jai led a good life. At the ripe
age of 33, he owned a pharmacy store. A family business, he also specialized in Ayurvedic
products. He was married with two kids and lived a content life. Fate upset his monotony in
an unfortunate manner.
Over a series of encrypted messages, Imran got orders to go to Varanasi. Strife with deeply
rooted religious tension, Varanasi had become a battleground for Hindus and Muslims.
Varanasi was blazing in the fire as this religious animosity entered every little street it could.
The Hindus were determined to wash away every trace of the Muslim minority and they were
executing this will with no mercy in their hearts. Houses burned down, mob killings, and
abandonment of Muslim businesses was the story of Varanasi. Determined, Imran’s only
desire was to settle the issue once and for all. The bomb blasts were already playing on repeat
in his head.
Imran had a difficult task on his hand. He had two days to assemble equipment, coordinate
with sleeper cells, and plant the bomb. While conducting reconnaissance, he entered a narrow
lane. Oblivious to him, dark elements were at play nearby. A shadow prowled in the dark,
catching Imran’s attention. He quickened his pace as he sensed bloodlust in the air. The fated
gunshot rang as the bullet whizzed past his ears. As he started running for his life, a bullet
struck him in his leg, breaking his run almost immediately. He crawled to a narrow alley,
praying for the commotion to subside. Blood was oozing relentlessly as his consciousness
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ebbed back and forth. Limping, he somehow landed in front of Jai’s pharmacy store. Jai had
an unwelcome visitor.
Jai knew the drill. Hear a gunshot, cut off lights, and sit still. This was just another day. But
today was different. Jai had company. Wheezing cut the silence like shards of glass, sounding
more and more painful. Carefully, Jai opened the door to witness a wounded Imran. Alarmed,
he rushed him inside and fumbled around the store in darkness to aid Imran. By the time
blood flow stopped, Imran had passed out due to excessive blood loss. Jai sneaked him to his
house attached to the store and explained the situation to his wife. Understanding the
seriousness of the situation, she solemnly planned out the next few days with her husband.
Imran woke up the next day to a nasty surprise. He couldn't absorb the setting he found
himself in. A huge painting of Lord Ganesha adorned the wall in front of him and he could
hear the morning prayers resonating from the room beside his. His first thought was to run
away; he can’t be safe anywhere. But his leg still hurt and the fact that he was alive, was
difficult for him to believe. He was trying hard to recall all the events that happened since the
encounter. He was still in the process of this recollection when he could sense movement. His
reflex made him advance his hand to the gun in his pocket and he pulled the trigger. But he
was astonished to see a woman, in her late twenties, with a welcoming smile on her face enter
the room. She wished him, “Good morning! How are you feeling right now? Breakfast is
ready. Please come down when you feel better. Also, please let me know if there is anything
you need. Times are bad out there, you can stay here till you wish.”
Imran’s ears couldn’t believe what they heard. He was dumbfounded. He could smell
delicious food being cooked, and a bucket of hot water was waiting for him. Jai’s wife was
busy cooking breakfast for Imran. All this shook him from the roots. He questioned his entire
foundation and the principles he grew believing in. Jai was not supposed to be doing this.
This was abnormal. He couldn’t see why Hindus would house a Muslim man given the
current scenario in Varanasi. Imran couldn’t comprehend any of this and decided to run away.
Limping his way through the streets, he sneakily entered Ali’s residence to find relief.
He needed emotional peace more urgently than the relief from his pain. In the hope of having
his doubts cleared, he knocked on Ali’s door. An astonished Ali opened the door and spoke in
whispers, “Imran! Why did you come here? You know how times are and how dangerous it is
for me to step outside. If anyone sees you here, Noori and the kids, we all will be in danger.
You must get going. I’ll give you some bread and Bhaji from last night. I’m sorry but you
can’t expect anything more from me at this moment.”
Ali shut the door and disappeared inside leaving Imran’s mind in more doubts than before.
Imran didn't have the time to find answers to all the questions that were creating turmoil
inside his head as he started getting calls from the base, asking for updates on the situation
and the execution of the mission plan. All of them firmly believed this is the best time to
shake the entire Varanasi and establish the power of Jihad. Their message that they will wash
away every enemy of Islam, will echo for months they believed.
Imran started preparation for the big day. He could feel his motivation and determination
fading away, his doubts trying to overpower him but chants of “Allahu Akbar” and constant
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reminders of the fact that what he is doing for his brothers will be remembered for ages to
come, kept him going until the final day.
The day arrived; he washed his face as he woke up at 4 AM. His hands shook for the first
time as he read the Namaz. He ate his breakfast silently; his phone was intentionally switched
off. He needed these few moments of contemplation. As he was beginning to delve into his
world of unsolved questions, the doorbell rang and a message in Morse was slipped
underneath. “God will be proud of you. Live long, son.”
His chain of thoughts broke and he started packing the equipment carefully into his backpack.
This was the end. All this will come to an end after today and he can peacefully escape this
life to enter into his new life. He desperately awaited a new beginning. He closed the door of
his small apartment behind him and entered into the busy streets of Varanasi for the last time.
As he placed his bag on the road and was about to unzip it, he noticed Jai’s pharmacy across
the road. His heartbeat grew uncontrollably faster as he saw Jai’s kids come out of the
pharmacy holding his hand. They were grinning, ear to ear as Jai treated them to ice cream.
Jai, his wife, the breakfast at his home, the lane where he got shot, everything came back to
him, all at once. “Why did Jai let him in? Why? He is a Hindu at the end of the day, his life
was at risk the minute he healed his wound that night. As If, stopping his blood flow wasn't
enough, Jai took him, a Muslim in Varanasi, to his home to provide him refuge from the
situation outside.” Imran didn't let his flow of thoughts stop. All the unanswered questions
dawned upon him and he could not leave them unanswered anymore. The contrasting images
of Jai and Ali came before his eyes. “Ali was his brother no? One among the many brothers
he was doing this for. Ali couldn’t risk anything for him, he was indifferent to his wound, his
need for a home, his longing for comfort in this alien city. Why did Jai see it important to
address these needs? Was the definition of brotherhood inculcated so deeply in him, too
narrow-minded to be lived by?” Brotherhood transcended the boundaries of religion, Jai
showed him. He came into his life to give a new direction, Imran felt. If he takes this one step
today, it can uproot the belief in the humanity of people like Jai. This step will reestablish the
existing boundaries and carve more boundaries for the future. Did Imran actually want the
life he had lived to be passed on to his children? “Planting this bomb on this busy street and
destroying these lives is not courage, Imran. Bravery is what Jai did that day”, he spoke to
himself. All distinctions blurred for a moment.
Six...Five...Four...Three...Two...One.
The eager ears, miles away, were longing to hear the news they had been waiting for. It never
came.
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2
Follow your heart
Sashakt Tripathi 2017A7PS0051P
Once upon a time, there was a clan named Gorans. Gorans was one of the few ethnic
communities of the Harappa civilization. There were around 30 people in the clan. All the
important decisions were taken with each person’s consideration with equal weightage to
everyone’s views. When Harappa was destroyed by the deadly rains these were the people
who decided to move east. The clan decided to settle in the fertile lands of river Ujana. The
Ujana lands proved to be better for agriculture than any of them expected, an abundance of
food led to an exponential increase in population. As the population increased people who
controlled important resources started to dominate others. Common people of Doran were
now not allowed to participate in deciding important issues.
Slowly it started to happen that the number of dominants got smaller whereas the number of
people whom they dominated started to increase rapidly. This was because of the sheer nature
of the groups. The Dominants always wanted to be fewer and wanted more people whom
they could dominate. Slowly they started to Remove competition amongst the Dominants by
killing them hence making the less powerful either accept their superiority or flee the clan.
The rich started exploiting the poor because of this poverty, unemployment and other social
evils began to rise. Everything was going right for the Masters. They had formed a union that
controlled all the resources and they made the slaves work for the prosperity of the union and
hence for themselves. On the other side, people in the kingdom were starting to feel the
effects of poverty and unemployment. But they feared the Masters, they knew what had
happened to those who tried to oppose the masters. Love, family, and responsibility stopped
the people from doing anything against the powerful Union. But there was one, his name was
Yara, he didn’t have a family to love and hence no personal restraint, he started to gather
people in the streets, shops, and common corridors.
He started to talk about problems the poor face, he started pointing the masters for these and
tried to get people talking about it. The masters thought the problem was not big enough to be
paid
attention to. Yara was a great leader, he started to lead people into the rebellion against the
Union, he made people realize that their sheer number was multiple times the number of rich.
One morning when the union meeting finished and Masters took to streets to return back
home from the great chambers, people crowded the streets and killed the masters. Union was
abolished and Yara was declared the leader of the clan. The news spread like fire to the
neighbouring cities. The union in these cities decided to look forward to this serious situation,
they felt even they may face if not taken care of. They analysed the problem, the solution was
put forth, the Masters wanted themselves to not get blamed for the wrongdoings and
problems in the city. They decided to create a third party with the name Rupee. The systems
were changed such that now slaves would not work for Masters but for money, all the
problems they face will be bestowed upon the availability of money. This system seemed fair
to the union and they decided to make a central authority through which they controlled the
flow of money which in-turn controlled the people.
Masters still exist in today’s world. Don’t follow money; follow your heart.
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3
Where is Hari?
Venkat Sai Ram Mukkamala 2017A7PS0133P
“I swear, I just went to check on her yesterday evening and nothing else, she really loved me,
why would I kill him….,” Venkat’s voice broke into sobs as the words got stuck in his
parched throat. His actions formed a contrast to his imposing figure, he was dressed in a crisp
white shirt that was now crumpled in places, with his tie hanging loosely around his neck. A
family of 12 stood huddled together that tense summer evening suspiciously eyeing one
another. The killer was among them. That was certain.
Gangamma was 70 odd years old but was quite fit for her age when she lost her husband a
year ago, her health did deteriorate, but she had fully recovered from the trauma and was
coping up well with her life. She lived with her four sons, their wives, and kids in the huge
mansion, built in the elite area of the city. Gangamma had the mansion and the huge treasure
her old man had left, all in her name only until yesterday when she was alive. Gangamma
was brutally murdered in her sleep and now the property was on its voyage once again to
reach its most eligible heir.
From the sharply arched windows of the mansion, Detective Raghav’s shrewd eyes with his
trademark slanted eyebrows looked out onto the busy commercial street oblivious to the
chitter-chatter of everyone around him, wondering where Hari was. Raghav was in his early
forties, shortly built, and occasionally sprouted a small beard, usually when he was immersed
in a case, which made him look a tad younger. If the cook’s word had to be taken into
consideration, then Hari was the one who was seen last with Gangamma and the primary
suspect for this murder.
Hari was the eldest son with all the necessary qualifications to continue the family line along
with a son to carry forward the name. But the son was yet to come of age as he was born late
to Hari and his wife after several visits to multiple clinics in the city. Raghav learned that
Gangamma quite often had made one thing evident to everyone in the family, the wealth
would be passed on only to sons who had boys, as she was of the opinion that girls would
marry one day and the money would land in the hands of someone outside the family.
Gangamma loved everyone equally, she adored her grandkids, but she was very particular
about the family treasure which made Vasu, the third son of Gangamma, the immediate heir
apparent as the second son Ravi had two daughters.
Raghav had put a stay on Gangamma’s will until the identity of the murderer was revealed.
He could sense the restlessness of the family members, each one trying to trick or trap the
other into revealing some information that would make them vulnerable in front of Raghav.
As this was the case of sudden death, the pathologist was instructed to conduct a forensic
internal and external autopsy, but all this while, Raghav kept thinking, where is Hari?
Birds chirped welcoming yet another bright summer morning and it was still quite early when
Raghav got out of his car in front of the mansion with the autopsy report in hand. The results
had completely baffled him. Either the killer was extremely smart or something very common
had happened that night which may have resulted in the involvement of two potential killers.
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Raghav was let in by the butler and he made himself comfortable on the cozy purple velvet
couch, he was going to be there for long. He carefully removed the pictures of Gangamma’s
body along with several other medical reports from a folder and spread it on the glass table in
front of him. As he sat there looking at the photos and scratching his beard that now looked
like the nest of a small sparrow, he heard the flip-flops of several hurried footsteps as
everyone gathered around him. Few of them looked excited, few nervous, and few of them
looked annoyed at being awakened so early after the long harsh night.
“Well. Good Morning all, I hope everyone could catch up on some sleep last night because I
have something very important to tell you all.”
Raghav gave a slight pause before talking more trying to observe any subtle changes in the
body language of each family member.
“Your mother had been killed twice that night” he continued.
“What!! Twice, how is that possible now,” Vasu intervened.
“Let me explain, first, she was given a slow poison called hemlock, this poison paralyzes the
body parts one after the other till death is caused by the paralysis of the respiratory system.
Even though the person will not be able to move, they will be aware of things around them as
the brain remains intact till death. Along with this, she was also strangled with a telephone
cable which has left a permanent necklace mark around her neck,” he said pointing to the
picture on the table.
Raghav continued, “Either the same killer murdered her twice to ensure that she was really
dead or did this to confuse us into believing that two killers were involved or they may really
have been two killers, but someone surely wanted her dead and my job is to find out who it
is.” “And now coming to the interesting part which will probably give us some lead, the
forensic team has found three foreign objects from Gangamma’s room which are apparently
not hers. The first object is a broken piece of green glass, the second object is the torn pocket
of a checkered blue and green shirt and the third object is a lemon dipped in liquid red
kumkum,” Raghav said placing the objects in sealed Ziploc bags on the glass table next to
Gangamma’s pictures.
He gently called Nisha, the daughter of the fourth son Venkat, to come forward and identify
any of the objects. Nisha took a look at the green glass and then at Hari’s wife, Sakshi.
Sakshi’s eyes were wide open with fear as she tried covering her left wrist with her other
hand; this slight movement was enough for Raghav to grab her wrist before she made an
excuse to get out.
“That’s a deep gash,” said Raghav observing the cut on her wrist.
“I got this when I was removing my glass bangles yesterday night.” she sternly replied.
Before Raghav could continue, her eyes started filling with tears, she could not continue
anymore and requested Raghav not to bother her as she was already upset and worried that
her husband Hari was still missing.
Over the day, Raghav did not get anywhere close to finding the killer using the small piece of
shirt, but he learned an interesting fact that Venkat and his wife Uma had suffered huge losses
in business and were in dire need of money. Venkat was ready with his speech of how he was
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the last in line for the property and could never be benefitted by Gangamma’s death. It was
well-rehearsed and quite convincing.
After interrogating everyone again, Raghav carefully packed all the documents and made his
way to the car. On reaching home, he went to his private office and pinned everything on the
board with each picture of the family member. He started analyzing considering each family
member as the murderer. After several hours, he lay asleep on his table drooling saliva all
over the medical reports.
The vibration of the cell phone against his wooden desk patiently tried to awaken him, as
Raghav caught it, just before it kissed the ground.
“Hello,” he said groggily. The news was not good. Things were becoming worse.
He wanted to take a hot shower to clear off his head before reaching the location of the crime.
It was Vasu on the phone. The garbage collector had found Hari’s chopped off head wrapped
in a blue and green checkered shirt? Blue and green… blue and green… green bangles, he
muttered to himself as he started drawing images on the steam-covered mirror in his
bathroom. In a flash, everything got connected. He clearly saw how Gangamma had been
killed; every step, as it was executed.
He dashed out and dressed quickly calling out to his wife that he won’t be joining her for
breakfast and buzzed off in full force towards the mansion.
“Please ask everyone to come,” he ordered the cook.
Everyone looked morose and sullen, especially Sakshi, whose tiny hope of seeing her
husband alive had completely extinguished that morning.
Clearing his throat, Raghav said, “I know who the killer is. If the killer confesses now I may
be able to reduce the sentence, else the court’s decision will be final, this is your last chance.”
No one moved an inch; the house was filled with an eerie silence. Raghav waited.
“Ok then, the killer is
......................................................................................................................................................
...........................................................................................................................
Amar let out a deafening shout as he saw that the last page that revealed the killer was torn
out from the library book.
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4
A Rebellious Conversation
Akash Palrecha 2017B4A30559P
Harsh is a rebel for everyone else and a very normal person in his own view. He sees
everyone do a particular thing and, on a whim, decides to not give it a try at once. He is of the
opinion that since everyone is doing it, there must be something really stupid about the whole
affair. Unless something is timeless wisdom, like wearing a pair of blue jeans because it lasts
long, he won’t do it. Almost every conversation with him gives the other person some
unusual thing to think or worry about, although he is diplomatic enough not to sound outright
arrogant. He talks like a rebel and has the natural courage to act like one.
It’s 3 PM, 9th April 2019, and Harsh is just back to his room after a long day of regular
classes. The weather is good, and it’s one of those early April days of the year when there has
just been an unexpected rain, and the heat has died off of every tree and hostel room. The air
has the soothing smell of moisture that appears just after a gentle drizzle, the trees look bright
green, and it’s a beautiful time to take a walk outside and have a conversation with a friend.
Harsh likes to take out time whenever such opportunities arise- he believes it adds up slowly
to make a brighter life. Outside the temple, he meets Rahul, his favourite buddy to strike up
hour-long conversations about anything and everything. Today’s subject was courage,
creativity, rationality, and whether they’re in some way, exactly the same thing.
Rahul goes on, “Why did you take that year off after school? You had college admissions.
Why waste a year so that you can just loiter around town?”. “I didn’t do that, Rahul. I loitered
around, yes, but only in the literal sense. I tried making use of every second. After school
ended, I realised I was only an Adult according to the government, but not according to
society’s standards. I wanted to figure out things before going to college so I could make the
best use of my 4 years at the place. It doesn’t make sense to explore life in an institution:
you’re bound by rules, they have goals for you, you have boundaries around your brain, and
your creativity is directed, not undirected. And what’s directed creativity? I’m not sure if such
a thing exists. I needed to give my brain some space, the equivalent of a year of time that I
could as I please. So that’s what I told my parents, I have been fortunate that they have been
very accommodating. I started off the year and just kept doing everything I could get my
hands on and everything that was even mildly interesting.” “Wait, stop right there. You just
randomly wasted your time over random activities of no value?”. “No, that’s where almost
everyone goes wrong. People think that they’ll just come across something they like one day,
and then do it for the rest of their lives. That isn’t how it works. That’s like reading General
Knowledge when you’re a kid and choosing science as a stream after tenth grade because you
think you like reading amazing facts. No, you don’t do that! Nevertheless, it helped me
understand so many things about myself, about people my age, about people older than me,
about young people, about creativity, about courage, and the essential fact that everything
will work out.
You just have to be engaged with life.” Rahul goes on, “Sometimes I feel like you’ll hit rock
bottom someday with these eccentricities of yours. You can’t keep doing what you do forever,
something will go wrong someday. The society has made norms for a reason, and the reason
is that they always work. Why won’t you just do that and be fine with things?” Harsh looks at
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him with a little smile on his face, this was one of those rare moments when this man is
arrogant and takes pride in his habits. “These norms were made for our fathers, we’re
different, we have different resources, we live in a different world, we like different things,
we have different issues, and we have different cultural values. You can’t solve our problems
with their approach. We’re not in any absolute sense better, but only different from them. It’s
not to understand my choices if you’re rational enough.
This has got nothing to do with courage or just a will to be a rebel for the sake of it. I see an
obvious thing, and then I assume that it’s the right thing to do and I argue for it with all the
biases inside my head. I take the whole argument apart this way, but only from the positive
side. Then I do the opposite, I assume that it’s obviously the wrong thing to do and then I
argue against it with all of society’s biases. Such exercises generally lead to the conclusion
that it is, in fact, the obvious thing to do. And then I just go forward and do it. Sometimes
people call it creativity, get enraged by the amount of courage it takes to do such a thing, or
just dismiss it as outright stupid. I’d say if you’re rational enough, you do not need courage,
or require much less of it. And then you stumble upon creativity as a matter of consequence.
It’s all a matter of setting your mind free of thinking from established rules. If you want to
make a car, you start thinking from fundamental principles: it has to have a place to sit, and it
has to take people from one place to the other. Forget the fact that it has to have 4 wheels and
a music system. And then you will come up with a thing that does what you need it to, and at
the same time has a hint of originality. This is how the first car came to be, and it was one of
the best original ideas.
Rahul gets annoyed by his repeated monologues and in a funny tone asks him to stop, to
which Harsh gives a loud laugh and then obeys. At this time, Rahul is pretty much confused
about his own outlook towards life and whether he needs to change it. Harsh has a habit of
making people go through that after his monologues. He has changed people’s lives with this
ability of his and is proud of that.
Out of confusion and desperation, and an inner temptation to hear one more never-ending
flurry of ideas, Rahul asks another question: “Given everything you said and all your
so-called ideas about exploring life, I find it hard to digest that you’ve been fixated on one
thing for the past year, for hours and hours every day. This is very unlike you, isn’t this
boring you already?”. Harsh gets excited again. He raises his eyebrows and makes a funny
expression, almost taunting Rahul, at the realization that he still wants more of his prolonged
dialogues. He goes on, “I do not know why you find this surprising, this is exactly what you
should expect from me. I spent a year doing everything before college so I can then find the
one thing as soon as possible once I
get to college. When I started working with Artificial Intelligence, I realised that there is
nothing worth doing more than this. This is the study of the mind, thoughts, reasoning, and
the quest to create the soul inside of a machine. This is the last invention we need to make,
and everything hence will be done for us, I do not know why anyone wouldn’t want to do
this. There are two factions in the working population: The Managers and the Makers. And I
never thought I’d want to be a Maker. It just happened that working with these computers
was so intellectually satisfying that I’d rather not involve myself in the untruthfulness and the
politics of a Managerial role. I’m after the truth, and you discover the truth when you make
things, when you see them from the inside, outside, over and above, and understand
everything that is in them. To make something really original, you must take everything that
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the society has told you, and give it no more importance than your own thoughts. You have to
put all of these ideas on one table, and pick what makes sense, regardless of where it came
from- your mind or your country. You have to believe in your reasoning with all your heart
and not be afraid of the fact that everyone else thinks otherwise. If your thoughts are concrete
enough, you will be afraid to follow the norm, not the other way around.
This is where creativity, originality, rationality, and courage meet and mingle in
mind-boggling ways, and you start thinking whether all of these have been the same thing all
along. Oh wait, I’ll stop, I’m going off-topic. So, as I was saying, I’ve loved this newfound
passion of mine, and have decided to drop my EEE degree as it doesn’t make sense in this
context.” “You what?”, harsh is shocked to his core. “Yes, this makes perfect sense. The idea
hit me some time ago, and I just went to the administration today and dropped my degree. I
feel much lighter without it.”
Rahul is astounded. He claps a few times slowly with the look of a person who just witnessed
the Haley’s Comet and says, “Oh, this boy, God take care of him! I don’t know whether
you’re unusually intelligent, a rebel, or just a person who’s been lucky all along!”
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5
Back to the present
Kanishk Singh Raghav 2017A3PS0366P
Turning the dial of his watch to 12th April 2019 Eddie gets up from his table. He goes to the
kitchen to find the old lady cooking dinner and listening to the news on the radio – “The city
is still terrorized by the gang 7-…” Looking at the amount of food being cooked he says
“Mom, I guess we are going to have company today. You might have to cook some more
food.” Looking at the portrait of a man hanging on the wall, he smiles and says, “He is
coming back today. I’ll get him back.” The dull look from his mother was not new but this
time he expected something more, he silently turned around and left the kitchen. Entering his
room and looking at the ill-managed room he says, “When I return, I’ll have you fixed too.”
He picks up the phone and his wallet from the table. Sitting down on his chair he presses a
button on the watch and vanishes in a burst of bright blue light.
He opens his eyes on the rooftop of a high apartment. Looking at the place and remembering
its condition in his time he reaches the elevator and goes to the ground floor. Recollecting his
destination address he starts walking down the silent streets. Soon he reaches a dark alley and
hears the screams of a young kid being kidnapped by two men. Rushing to the kid’s rescue,
he gets into a brutal fight with the men, drawing the attention of a cop on patrol. As the cop
appears from the darkness. Eddie reads the nameplate on the officer’s chest – Detective
Henry Kent. Eddie is frozen out of shock, noticing the distraction, the gangsters stab him in
the chest and try to escape. Running towards Eddie, Henry sees excessive blood loss and
rushes him to the hospital and sends the kid back to his parents.
Eddie wakes up the next morning on a hospital bed with stitches on his chest. A couple of
minutes later the detective returns to the hospital for questioning.
“So, how are you feeling.”
“Better”
“We wanted to ask you some questions”
“Sure, go ahead”
Looking at the fear in Eddie’s eyes - “Okay, so what is your name?”
Pausing for a moment - “Alfred West”
“Mr. West what exactly happened yesterday?”
“There were 2 guys who were troubling a kid”
“Could you be more specific?”
“I believe they were trying to kidnap the boy”
Walking around the room Henry takes a glance at Eddie’s clothes kept on the nearby table.
“Why did you not contact the police?”
Eddie Laughing - “Well they would have gotten away with the boy if I did.”
Still staring at the clothing Henry pauses for a moment and says – “Are you aware of the fact
that those men are a part of the 7-Wings gang that is involved in illegal organ trade and the 2
men that you were fighting have been captured and await judgement, with your help we will
be able to imprison these men and request further action to deal with this gang. So, will you
be able to submit a statement in front of a jury?”
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Remembering the fake identity that he had created using his simple-looking Hack Phone
under the name of Alfred West after entering the timeline he smiles and says – “Yeah sure, it
will be great if I can help, those guys need to be given some social education.”
“I was expecting your kind cooperation. The hearing is on the 20th of April. You will have to
be present at the Court House by 3 PM. Judging by your injury you will have to stay in this
hospital till then.”
Henry leaves the room. Eddie is frightened when he hears the date remembering the
newspaper cut-out at home – the murder of Detective Henry Kent under unknown
circumstances dated 21st April 2019.
One week later – At 2 PM
Just as Eddie is about to leave for the courthouse, Detective Kent appears in the hospital with
his wife and an infant. He stops Eddie and says – “Hey wait I have to go to the Court House
as well, so I guess we can go together. But first, we have a health checkup for my wife and
the baby” Looking at the infant he says, “He is very cute… Yeah sure, we’ll go together.”
Eddie feels better as he sees him close by still wanting to prevent the event from ever
occurring. After leaving his family he meets Eddie waiting outside the car. Eddie feels his
heartbeat rushing in fear. He is reminded of the newspaper cut-out that he had seen when he
sees Henry again. With the hope of saving him, Eddie asks Henry to let him drive the car.
Seeing the fear being masked by a fake smile on Eddie’s face, Henry gets confused and
accepts the offer in the confusion.
Henry is reminded of Eddie’s clothes which had the brand label “SKAR clothing” a company
that is owned by his brother which currently manufactures shoes only. Henry is convinced
that there is something wrong with this guy. He wonders if this man could be a time traveler.
With the hope to make Eddie confess his truth Henry asks him “What’s your name?” Failing
to realize the situation Eddie says, “Eddie Kent…” Realizing the mistake that he made, he
stops the car in shock. Both Eddie and Henry stare at each other in shock without uttering a
single word for a few seconds. A couple of minutes later, as Henry is about to say something,
a shot from a long-ranged gun, aimed at the passenger’s seat, pierces the glass and goes
through his head, killing him instantly.
Eddie looks at the body in disbelief. Another shot aimed at the driver comes straight towards
him. This time the sniper misses his shot. Eddie sets the date on his watch to 20th April 2039
and hits the button in panic. At the same time, another bullet is shot on the driver. Eddie
vanishes in the bright blue light of the watch.
Shouting loudly from the kitchen “Dinner time Eddie! Come fast!!!” Seeing no response, she
enters Eddie’s room. He is seen sitting in his chair with his head resting on the table and
blood all over it.
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6
The Hell and The Heaven
Aditya Upadhyay 2017A7PS0083P and Kamal Khemka 2017A1PS0691P
“Ladies and gentlemen, as you all know how THE PANEL has taken control of the Earth and
brought prosperity and peace thereafter. The world is now divided into the East and the West,
with the East consisting of the people who live in a dreadful and miserable condition, suffer
hardship until they provide enough services, and earn enough credits to be considered for an
upgrade. While we here in West enjoy the hardship that we suffered in the East for the
betterment of the earth….” the man on the TV screen said in a monotonous and dull voice.
“Millie, could you please turn off the TV? Why do they repeat the same thing all over? I am
really frustrated hearing all this shit. I am on the balcony if you want something just call me.”
Jhanvi said
It’s the time of the evening when the sky is full of birds chirping their way home to their nest.
The environment is filled with the sounds of children playing and shouting through the street.
“Milli, can you bring me a cup of tea? The weather is so calm today isn’t it” Jhanvi said from
the balcony.
“Yes Ma’am” She replied, handing over the cup of tea to her.
“But still I miss mama and papa so much. Even if we were not happy in the East, at least we
were together there. I only wish that they will also earn enough credits to get promoted to this
place.”
Jahnvi is an astrophysicist and an ex-militant for the women’s force of THE PANEL. She has
shifted to this place recently after getting promoted by THE PANEL in rewards of the deeds
and services that she had provided to the civilisation in the past. She has done a major
breakthrough in her field and has already included her name on the list of BEST 30. She was
enjoying the sunset and the nature that THE PANEL has provided to its dependents which all
though is artificial but still is much better what others have been experiencing, then suddenly
a car stops in front of their house and a man dressed in grey coat comes out of it. He appears
to be a tall cyborg with a metallic left palm. As he reached the gate, he seemed to be anxious
yet quiet.
“Sir, can you provide your identification, failure of which may lead to your detention by the
cops” the machine on the door replied in a male British accent.
He scanned his left thumb on the scanner and went inside their house.
“Welcome Mr. Varun, what happened you look a bit anxious today?”
“Jahnvi, THE PANEL has asked for your services, which you must choose to provide. The
cab is waiting outside”
The next moment both of them were on the cab which was traveling at lightning speed. All
the time (which was not literally that much) Jahnvi was thinking about how she grew up into
a smart, beautiful yet a child-like lady who still dances and sings on her own just the way she
used to do when their family was together. Her line of thoughts was broken up by the sound
of people talking in indistinctive voices.
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“Lady, we have reached THE PANEL. You must wait there until you are been called for”
Varun said
They both went into the waiting room. It was a room with more statues, posters, and screens
than people, advertising about how THE PANEL has changed the world post World War III.
She again went in her thoughts as there were not many people to talk to. While she was busy
in her thoughts, she heard her name being called. The receptionist asked them to go to the
meeting room as the discussion is going to happen there. She entered the room which was
dimly lit except for the projector and Varun who was standing there on the edge of the table
with many delegates already present there for the meet.
“Take your seat lady, we are waiting for you. So as you all know that the nuisance created by
rebels on the East is increasing day-by-day and it is raising security concerns for the West.
THE PANEL wants to know how your research can help the west safeguard its interest?”
“Sir, I think that we can’t destroy the rebels in their present form as their powers, although
less than ours, still can cause great damage to our society. And if we can destroy them in their
previous stage we can solve it but we will have to face slight damage due to the possible loss
of contributions made by their heirs for our development.” A delegate replied.
“It’s fine but as far as everyone knows it’s not possible to travel back in time, so how will it
happen?” someone asked
“Sir, there are recent observations of a worm-hole being opening for the first time from the
existence of humans. If we send signals to the West and THE PANEL existing at that time,
they will take care of the rest.” Jhanvi replied
“It’s not a bad idea but involves a payoff which I or THE PANEL are reluctant for unless
there are sufficient pieces of evidence against them. Jhanvi, I can’t find anyone more talented
and expert in war techniques than you. So, it would be nice of you, if you take this job to
collect enough evidence and send a report to us. However, if you fail to complete it, you will
be shot as we can’t risk our security.” Varun said
“I will surely do this” Jhanvi replied
***************
“Jhanvi, wake up you have been demoted to the East. The vehicle carrying you has
successfully crossed the envelope, covering the west. The envelope that is responsible for the
existence of the bright sun, chirping birds, and all the vegetation that you have seen there, is
not present here. You have to face the scorching sun, UV rays, pollution caused by the greed
of the ancestors of this land.” The old gate-keeper of The East said in a dull and low voice.
She entered the place which was covered by a dark sky, full of smoke from the chimneys.
There was death and sadness everywhere. No one was happy and just walked around with
their mouth and nose covered with their handkerchief. The river-water which used to flow
there is now full of waste disposed of by the city. There was no one smiling and laughing
there. She started moving silently across the street with the crowd of people returning from
their day’s work when suddenly someone struck him.
“Want to know more about the rebels and their leader, come to the lion’s den and ask where
the lion is?” the stranger whispered in her ears and faded in the crowd of people not to be
seen again.
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“What? Hey listen, where is the lion’s den?”
She was all alone in this place even when she was surrounded by people from every
direction. However, she somehow managed to find the building she was looking for. It was a
usual building, just like the others, dimly lit with walls being black from the regular
deposition of the soot. The place was full of drunkards and scoundrel lying on the floor,
under the effect of drugs and alcohol, and certainly not the place where one can imagine a
beauty like her to be present.
“Where is the lion?” She asked the boy serving the drinks upon which he replied nothing but
pointed a finger to an old man sitting in the corner.
She went to the old man and asked what he knows about the rebels and their leader. He
started as soon as she finished as if he had been waiting for her to come and listen about the
rebels.
“So, the rebels are a group of people who want liberation from the current system and from
the rule of THE PANEL. They think that the system of person being served well when he gets
enough credit is vicious and should be stopped”
“But I don’t see a problem with this. We are after all we removing the discrimination and
other prejudices that used to be there when society was divided on the basis of race, religion,
and class.”
“Neither do I, but they say that their leader “Kaanu” has got the powers to convince anyone,
literally anyone. I wonder if……” and there was a gunshot and the old man rolled down like
a sack of potatoes and the floor was full of fresh blood dripping from his head.
There was a stampede at that place. People were running here and there, when suddenly she
felt that she was hit and everything went blank around her eyes. Next moment, she found out
that she was standing in front of a man with a well-built body and long white beard on his
face.
“So, now you have come here to decide the fate of your people. They really change a person
once he goes there, isn’t it Jhanvi”
“How…. how do you know my name?”
“Remember your father’s old friend, your most loved uncle, Aditya?”
“OH!!! But I thought that you…”
“that you died, or that you went missing”
“So, you wanted to hear why we want to destroy THE PANEL. Listen, young lady, and then
decide who is wrong and who is right? You just select those people that fulfil the credit to
live a beautiful life, but what of those who don’t fulfil that requirement. What about those
widows, those orphans, or those teenagers who just fell in traps of drugs at a young age?”
“But there is always someone who suffers, also we are taking those people that through their
research, can make the earth habitable for life again.”
“What research, this is where the scam begins. The research is just meant to make west great
and superior”
“No, they care about you, that’s why they called for me to inspect the situation and take
actions accordingly”
“I don’t know why the crown waited for your response? The only thing that I know is you
have got both sides of the story and you are capable of making an informed decision.” And
he shot himself dead.
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“whattt, why….” She mumbled and her sight fell on the wall where it's written “It’s better to
die in laps of kindness than to live among the brutal”
“No, I know what is right and what is wrong. I have got enough moral values and knowledge
to come out of this dilemma.” She said, staring at the button she was about to press.
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7
The Wordless Friendship
Anshul Khatkar 2016C2PS0766P
I.
It was Midnight and there we were again standing with our cycles in front of his hostel. The
Moon was full and so were our energies. We weren't having a friendly talk there; we were
doing some serious betting. We were betting over the race we were just going to put on the
roads of BITS Pilani on our cycles." No, that can't happen," Anand declared. I had asked him
that he would run shirtless around the campus if he loses. This was his last semester on
campus; indeed, this was his last month. He was a mysterious and socially awkward creature
who rarely did talk. I was always pulled to him for some reason. He rarely spoke, but when
he did it was meant to be heard. If it was low to hear, you ought to ask him what he said
unless you want to miss the enlightenment. He was shut to personal interactions, obviously
until you have bet over them on a race like this. He had been a brilliant boy, a self-taught
musician, a fast athlete and one of the most creative minds I ever saw, and a boy who would
push himself to death for something that made sense to him. More than that he was my only
friend I had in years. With him, I wouldn’t hesitate to speak of the angels and demons inside
my head. Whenever I felt aloof from the rest of the world he was my shelter. He would listen
to me, without judging me and without expecting anything in return for the moral act he
performed. But this was not the reason that pulled me to him, it was his silence that did.
Talent can bring the achievements of the world, but silence comes only through realization.
The realization that takes in a lot of solitude, that the world is afraid of. I was awed how he
never needed anyone to share his pains and joys. And since the first time I met him, he was
my topic of study.
I asked," What would you want if you win," reminding him of the meagre possibility that he
could win. " Your hairs," he smirked.” Whatttt...,” I rebelled “It’s the first time I got such a
nice haircut and I am not going to bet over them.” “Well, then neither can your wish to make
me run shirtless be fulfilled,” he replied. I knew he wouldn't win, with me he never did, so
finally I agreed on the deal. We had to race four rounds around a 2 kilometer lap. A speed
breaker 30 meters ahead of his hostel gate was our start line and our finish line. “On Your
mark,” I could see his scarred arms tightening and his gaze narrowing to the road ahead. His
racing cycle was one with his 5’10” muscular body now. “Set …. Go.” And we burst into
pedaling the cycles with everything we had, with just one goal, which was a victory.
II.
I was pedaling hard and he stuck right behind me. It was the third lap; I was tired and he just
wasn't giving up. Seeing me lowering my speed, he spoke, "I can see you getting bald.” That
was enough to make me pedal harder but he followed my pace and caught me again. Time
passed but he didn’t leave my back. It was the last lap, I was pushing hard and he was still
just stuck to me waiting for his chance to overtake me. I tried pulling away but he just didn't
leave me. We were on the last straight which must have been some two hundred meters and
he suddenly pulled ahead. I tried catching him with everything I had, but when we reached
the breaker I was looking down and I could see his cycle’s front tyre a foot ahead of mine. He
opened up his hands in victory looking up for the first time. I slowly cycled to him, gloomy
and sad after losing. But my sadness didn't last long because Anand was happy. He had rested
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his cycle along a wall and he was lying down on the road, looking at the stars above. Road
left empty to him to enjoy his victory. It was very rare seeing Anand so happy, it was worth
getting bald.
III.
It was the evening of 14th December, hairs on my head were still very short, but that’s not
what I was worried about. The sadness was that Anand was going to leave for home soon as
the semester was over. I decided to stay behind for a few days for a project. I decided to go to
his room to talk to him one last time. His wing was empty and he was standing alone in a
dark spot in a corner, playing some sad melody on his guitar. I silently went to him and stood
behind him. He realized my presence, he turned and bid me a hello bringing his one hand up
in the air, up to his chin. He walked to his room and I walked behind him. It was dark and I
was unable to make out his expressions but there was an aura of sadness and pain around
him, stronger than usual. We reached the door, he walked me in and asked me to not turn the
lights on. I went inside and sat on his bed, he followed me and slowly relaxed onto his bean
bag, his guitar still clung to him. Something seemed wrong about everything, I could only
make out his body lining in the dark, unable to see his face. I asked him,” Is everything
okay?”. He stayed silent and in a while started hitting the strings of guitar producing a
melancholy melody and mood. We kept sitting there for a while and I kept asking him
questions, but the longest answer I got from him all this while was a “huh”. Some fifteen
minutes were over, then he asked me to leave. I denied saying,” Let me know what’s wrong
and I will think about leaving.”
He got up, removed the guitar by its strap, picked up his bottle, went outside, and shut the
door from outside, so that I wouldn't follow him. It was just a while and tears started flowing
down my cheeks. That’s when I realized his reason to keep the lights off. I wiped off the tears
and lied down on his bed, my imagination carrying me to agony. After a while, I heard the
door being opened and the lines turned on. The lights were an irritation to the eyes which had
just cried, so it took me some moments to open them completely. He was back, I looked at
him still lying down, his face was washed and deprived of any expression at all. He sat on his
chair and opened his laptop. I sat up slowly and then to take this mood away he asked,”
Where do you see yourself, on 14th December of next year?” That’s what he always did. He
always asked about others and never replied about himself. I gave it a thought and told him
everything I wanted to achieve, with my voice still hoarse. He nodded. “I am leaving in 5
days,” he said, “This is probably the last time we are talking.”
“I can always call you and speak to you, can’t I?” I begged.
“No, there is no reason for us to keep contact anymore.”
“Why do you behave this way; why do you always want to stay away from people?”
“Because It seems pointless and worthless to me.”
“But don’t you feel the need to speak up to feel light from inside.”
“You can’t have everything in life, my friend, you have to make choices that are in alignment
with what you want from life, and in the process you will have to let go of some things that
are valuable to you.”
We spent some more time on this philosophical talk before I left, with me speaking most of it
and him listening carefully.
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IV.
We met again on the morning of December 19th, I had asked him to meet me once before he
left. He called me to his hostel gate. I reached and saw him placing items in the car that had
come to pick him. He handed me one of his beloved flutes. After everything was ready, he
walked to the front window, opened it, and sat beside the driver’s seat. I suddenly
remembered that it was his Birthday, so I rushed to his window and wished him his birthday.
He just smiled, staying silent like always. I knew he was sad because he was leaving the
place that taught him everything, but he wouldn’t show it to anyone. The driver started the
car and rode it away slowly, taking a turn to the exit. Anand didn’t look back even once, he
never did. Four Years passed and there wasn’t one person who knew anything about him
other than his achievements. He didn’t have even a single friend who was very close to him,
but that was his choice and he never regretted it. After he was gone, I sat on the grass by the
side of his hostel for a while, hoping that he might have forgotten something and he will
come back. The realization came to me in a while and I started walking back to my hostel.
While walking back to my room, I was wondering if he ever realized what his presence
meant to me. In the last days of his college, the occasions of our meetings were very less, and
when we did we were usually racing on foot or on our cycles. Our meetings were short but
intense; and without speaking much he taught me secrets of life. When I reached my room I
had one thing on my mind, that one day, cycles will be identical and we will race as our lives
depended on it, and in the middle of the race, I will look at him and say,” I will miss your
hair,” and cross him with a smile.
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8
Oh Shit!
Prateek Sharma 2017B5A20711P and Todarwal Devesh Santosh 2017B4PS0518P
I realized today that I was detached. Detached from the very reality I lived in. Detached from
the friends I laughed with. Detached from every-
THUNK!
A soccer ball interrupted my train of thought, it's sheer momentum hitting my cheek like a
slap from an oversized gorilla. I licked the ground, unintentionally.
“Oi, old man! You okay?” A bunch of pre-pubescent kids came running in my direction.
Being called 'old man’ hurt more than the ball.
I was a 20-year old, for God's sake. Not my fault that my beard loved to grow. I picked
myself up with twice the annoyance.
“What the HELL? That hurt!” I shouted, trying to pull off a menacing face by twisting my
features.
The kids looked unperturbed so I was probably unsuccessful. “Really sorry about that.
Accident.”, said a 13 something looking kid with a scar on his left cheek. He seemed to be
the leader of the small band of 8 kids about 12-13 in age.
“Look here, little kids-”, I began, only realizing that I was making myself look old
intentionally. I coughed to stop and resumed, “You shouldn't play so recklessly, someone
could get hurt.”
“No shit.”, came a snarky response from somewhere in the little group, met by giggles and
snorts. The scar kid covered his mouth too.
The vein in my forehead throbbed harder, irritation turning to anger. “Do you even know-”, I
thundered, only to be interrupted.
“Look here, this is a soccer ground in the park. Not our fault that you were standing on the
side moping like the world was ending. Be aware of your surroundings.”, said a kid, blonde
hair, standing beside the scarred kid.
The logic in his words left me speechless. I opened and closed my mouth a few times, trying
to muster something, only to look dumber than I already was.
“We'll take the ball, thanks.”, said the scarred kid, picking up the ball beside my foot.
The group turned around and proceeded back to the field, while I stood there, with gritted
teeth.
“Seems like you're awake now.”, came a rough voice from behind me. I turned around in
surprise, to come face to face with an old man with one hand on a cane and another on his
back.
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“Excuse me?” I asked.
“It really seemed like you just got dumped. Don't worry, you'll find a better lass.”
“That's…. not wha …”
“Oh my bad! We're a modern society now. You'll find a nice young man who'll be better than
whoever just left you.”, he interjected.
“Is this old man making fun of me?” I thought, my eyes narrowing. “Don’t worry, I’m not
gay,” I replied, pissed.
“Nothing to worry about even if you were one. It’s perfectly natural to have such feelings.
The heart wants what it wants.” The old man said, using his left hand to pat my shoulder.
“OK, stop! Thank you for being so annoyingly caring. I was not dumped by ANYONE!”, I
said through gritted teeth.
“Ah, I understand now, I’m sorry.”, he said, looking regretful.
“Thank you!”, I said, rolling my eyes. “Now, if you-”
“Just be frugal for some time, you’ll get another job soon.”
“GAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
Not just the kids playing soccer, but everyone within a 100 metre radius turned to look at me.
The curious ones slowly proceeded towards me while the rest just watched from where they
were.
“You shouldn’t scream like that in public, young man.”
“This is all your fault; you, senile old idiot.”, I hissed through gritted teeth, incredibly
self-conscious and embarrassed.
“Is everything okay, Mr. Hudson?”, said a mustached middle-aged man, eyeing me
suspiciously. A small crowd of people had already gathered around me.
“Yes, yes, everything is alright. It’s just that this young man here is just going through very
hard times, losing his job and whatnot.”, said the old man, addressing the crowd calmly.
“Oh, that’s so tragic. He must be devastated.”, said a lady somewhere in the crowd.
“It’s not…. I’m not….” I began, sheepishly, as a flurry of pity and encouraging comments
headed towards me from all directions.
“Poor soul.”
“Hang in there!”
“We will let you play soccer with us, uncle.”
* “Wait, was that?” * I thought, but the voice got lost almost immediately.
“You've still got a lot of years to live.”
“Smile and it'll be okay.”
“Don't worry, life always gives second chances.”
“It's okay…. hope for the best…...these things happen…. you’re a strong kid…….”. All the
words from every direction started mixing and swirling into one single cacophony.
“I…. stop…… I'm not…… it's…. wait…...stop…. stop…”, I tried to muster up my words but
I felt so embarrassed and overwhelmed. I felt delirious as if that cacophony was a lullaby.
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“STOOOOOOPPPPPP!” I shouted at the top of my voice. First came the surprise, then came
silence and finally came all the cold gazes, stabbing me like daggers.
“We understand that you are plagued by sorrow, but that shouldn't give you an excuse for
shrieking like a madman.”, said the old man, who had started all this, shaking his head
incredulously
“I'm not plagued by sorrow.” I replied angrily.
“But your moping face was so pity inducing. You seemed so grave.”
“It wasn't even something that serious. Just something that I was a bit unhappy about.”, I
thundered, my face turning red, with embarrassment or anger, I do not remember.
“If it wasn't so sad, why were you so upset?”, he asked, his eyebrows arched.
Such a simple statement, yet so difficult to realize. I could swear I saw a smirk on his face.
For a moment, I felt myself beaming too, as I slowly let go of my melancholy thoughts of
before. I laughed internally at what a fool I had been.
“Thanks old man.” I said with a small smile on my face.
He winked and turned around to leave. The feeling of happiness stayed with me just a second
longer. Until I realized that the dozens of gazes directed at me still existed.
“Oh. Shit.”
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9
Flowers
Chandra Prakash 2017A2PS0910P and Dimple 2017D2TS1229P
Long ago, in a small town by the forests and mountains there lived a rich merchant with his
beautiful wife. They could’ve had all the happiness of life but their own child. They tried all
the remedies they could but for no use. One day they heard about a falling star, which one
might see only once in a lifetime, is believed to grant any wish if prayed with heart. When it
arrived the couple asked, “if only they could have just one child”. Sometime later the woman
gave birth to a baby girl whose skin was rusty brown and wrinkled, she looked awful and old.
Maybe that was their fate. But her parents happily accepted her and named her Shubhangi,
meaning a very beautiful girl.
As she grew up, they would kiss her, caress her, play with her, and tell her beautiful stories.
And taught her about accepting whatever God has given them. Soon when her mother died of
some disease, his father got remarried. Her stepmother was a very wicked woman. She would
force Shubhangi to do the hardest job through the house when her own daughter would do
nothing all day long, though she was very beautiful, she was just as spoiled as her mother.
Shubhangi was yet a daughter to the house until his father lived, afterward, her stepmother
turned her into a full-time maid. She tricked her father into leaving nothing for Shubhangi,
but everything for herself and her own daughter. As time passed both girls grew into women,
her stepsister got married to a handsome man in the town, but no one would marry Shubhangi
because of her ugly and old look, none of the men would even look at her.
Years passed that she served her stepmother so that she can have food and shelter. On one
evening, her stepmother passed away, making her homeless since her stepsister got the house.
It was very hard to make a living afterward, she would have to go to the mountains and pick
beautiful flowers to sell in the town, sometimes in other nearby towns just to keep alive, she
didn’t have a place so she slept in some mountain cave. Even in these petty situations, she
was seen to smile. When she felt alone in the nights, she would sing herself the lullabies that
her mother told her and look at twinkling stars. When in town, she would talk to kids, tell
them stories, she almost knew every kid by their names. She learned to keep happy in herself.
She never complained about anything.
One day when she was picking flowers, she came across a very ugly one that no one would
want, she caressed them, smelt them, their fragrance was like she had never known before,
she didn’t pick them though, cause no men would want to give ugly flowers to their women,
she had sympathy for the flowers. She came daily to smell the flowers, watered them, and felt
them like her very own.
As the years went by the girl’s fate started to change, as she became young and beautiful by
the fragrance of those flowers, as they were very magical. It was like nature had turned
around its clocks. Soon a very handsome man married her and they lived happily ever after.
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10
Kryptonite
Aakash Shah 2015A8PS0392P
My wife has gone on a trip with my mother-in-law. It’s just me and my baby for the whole
day. We have a little family, me, my wife Cindy, and my eight-month-old daughter Allie. I am
terrified. This is the first time I am alone with Allie for a whole day.
I am not scared of babies actually. In fact, I love them. I love how they have cute little laughs,
give little innocent smiles, and are just oblivious. I can also usually tolerate their tantrums
and handle them proficiently while they are crying. I used to babysit a lot in my teenage days
for my daily allowances and I was good. The kids loved me and listened to me. One of my
employers even called me the baby whisperer. But my baby is different, very different.
It is early in the morning, somewhere around 7:00 a.m. and I am already counting down
hours. Twenty-four dreaded hours until Cindy is supposed to return. Babies run on a fixed
time table daily. Allie doesn’t wake up till 9:00 am. So I make breakfast for myself, brush my
teeth, and get ready. I run some errands at the bank and get in time for Allie to wake up. I
tread carefully in the room, taking care of each step not to cause something untoward that
could make her cry. I take her in my hands carefully and check her diaper. It is soiled and so I
bring a fresh one from the drawer. Allie is checking out the fan on the ceiling trying to figure
out what it is, as she does every day. It is like a ritual. I alert her to my presence and give her
a huge hint about what I am trying to do now by telling her that I am changing her diaper so
that she doesn’t get surprised. She doesn’t understand my words but accepts the hint. I swiftly
remove the dirty diaper, clean my daughter up, and put on a fresh one. I am sure she is
hungry and would like half a bottle of milk as soon as I can give it to her. I have everything
ready of course. I put the sipper in her mouth and handed her the bottle. I have about twenty
minutes of time before attending to her again. I sit at the couch, read the newspaper, and
check for any major headlines.
Then I shuffle across the room getting her toys to play with. And if she doesn't want toys, I
am there to cuddle with. I put away the now empty bottle, and take her in my arms. She likes
it and she recognises me. She giggles and pulls on my moustache. I kiss her a few times. She
now has reached on to my hair and is playing with it. I wobble her on my arms all the while
little Allie is chuckling happily. I put her down and take the rattler toy in my hand. She loves
its sound. I bet she is wondering how this round device makes such a weird sound. “Where is
the sound coming from Daddy?” she would ask me if she could speak. Instead, she just points
at it and giggles looking at me inquisitively. She takes hold of the toy and tries to explore
every corner of it. Soon, the toy is forgotten and her attention is drawn towards a pair of birds
chirping on a branch just outside the window. She looks intently at them and then stretches
out her hand towards them as if calling them out to come and play with her. She plays with
me for a little while but eventually gets drowsy, tired from all the activity and I put her to
sleep again. I sing a lullaby and pat her head and she is dozing in minutes. She has a round
face. So innocent and so peaceful, I could look at it all day. Her nose is slightly large just like
mine and so are her ears. My little girl was supposed to be my dream come true and the best
thing that ever happened to me, but why did it all go so wrong.
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I think about the time when Allie was born. I remember being in the delivery room all excited
and Allie came out of her mother’s womb. She was silent for a moment or two. I saw her face
and looked carefully. She was all dirty and bloody but cute, she looked just like me. The
doctor gave her a few taps on her chest and she started crying, no it felt like the baby was
screaming. At least that’s what it seemed like to me. The smile on my face vanished
instantaneously. I looked at the doctor, he didn’t act like anything was abnormal and my wife
also looked relieved after all the labour. She was tired but looked happy. Did none of them
notice? I didn’t know what was happening to me, but I just couldn’t stand the baby’s scream.
I scurried out of the room quickly. I went to the washroom and splashed my face with water. I
thought I heard it right, it wasn’t how a normal baby cries. But why did everyone else seem
normal? I had never seen a baby till date that I couldn’t stand crying, and I had seen a lot of
them. I was utterly confused about what had just happened. I couldn’t believe my ears. I came
to the conclusion that it must have been my mind playing tricks on me. So, I decided to go
and check back in.
The baby was silent when I went in, probably getting drowsy because of the heavy exercise it
went through. The nurses were preparing to take her to get her cleaned and give her some
rest. I looked at the baby again. Yes, just as cute as I remember it from five minutes ago. She
had a peaceful expression, nothing gave me the idea that she could be the one who drove me
out of the room a few minutes back. I was convinced that it must have been my brain playing
tricks. I probably needed some rest. I sat down with my wife, kissed her, and hugged her and
we smiled because my lifelong dream was in the process of fulfilling itself. I went to the
waiting room and lay down for a short nap. I could hear lots of babies crying in the hallway,
but not one evoked any kind of revulsion from me. The sun rays are coming in through the
window. It is a hot, silent afternoon. Allie, in her sleep, puts her thumb in her mouth. She then
twitches, adjusts herself, and still keeps dozing. I lay down on the bed beside her and took a
deep sigh and stare into space.
When Allie came home from the hospital, it started again. Every time she cried, and she did
cry a lot, it would feel like someone punching my soul and blasting my mind with shrapnel,
something like the sound that a nail makes when it screeches across a blackboard multiplied
ten times over. It was dreadful, always. I tried everything. I bought good quality ear-plugs. It
removed the sound up to a large extent, but still, everything else remained the same. The
sound wasn't the problem. It is inexplicable. My baby was my kryptonite. Every time I felt
her crying it tore at my soul. It made me go weak in the knees. It wasn't emotions that did it.
It wasn't because she was my daughter. It felt like the frequency of her crying voice resonated
with the frequency that I lost my mind to. Even if the sound is blocked the vibrations travel
through the air and through my bones and make my teeth chatter in agony. The worst part of
it was I couldn't leave her like that because I loved my little girl. Obviously I talked to my
wife about it. I did not manage to convince her about my problem, because I did not have any
explanation. I knew the doctors won’t be able to help me yet I consulted a few. None of them
could tell me anything remotely resembling a reason for this issue. They had never seen
anything like this and refused to believe it was possible. It refuted any kind of scientific
explanation. I also consulted psychologists to gain some insight though I had little hope there
too. While they said everything about me seems normal this phenomenon they couldn't
explain. They ruled out that I was insane.
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It was just an inexplicable condition and hence I was just forced to live with it. Whenever my
daughter cried I would just leave Cindy to handle her and left the room for a while to keep
my sanity. My wife and I had a lot of minor arguments because of it. She accused me that I
didn't want to help take care of my daughter but this was as far from the truth as she could
possibly be. Cindy is a housewife and so she used to be around to take care of Allie most of
the time. She would take Allie out with her always. I on the other hand had office on the
weekdays and would be home only for a little while. Allie would be in a playful mood when I
left and she would generally be irritable at night when she was tired. That was the time I got
back home. So I shifted my schedule by an hour. I left for work an hour late so that I could
play with her daily. And by the time I returned she would already be sound asleep. I think that
brought our lives back on track to a large extent. My wife reduced complaining and things
seemed to get better. But I still couldn't take great care of my daughter.
I took a long nap and it was late afternoon when I woke up. The little baby was awake and
had wet her diaper. I changed it again and left her to play on her own for some time. Babies
have a very interesting life. I say this because every time they wake up from sleep it is like
you have hit a reset button, all the toys become new, and all things become interesting again.
I feed the baby again, the same, a bottle of milk, and sit down to finish some of my
paperwork. I think to myself that the day has been sparing for me, the baby being in a good
mood there is little chance of her crying.
I think about my wife. We had hit it off pretty quickly. We were in a relationship for three
months and then I proposed to her. We got engaged very soon and in a matter of months, we
were married. As much as I loved her the main goal after getting married for me was to have
nice kids. She wanted kids too but not right away. She said she wasn’t ready for motherhood
yet. She wanted to wait at least two years before we thought about it. I had to agree
reluctantly. But then Allie happened. We had taken care to use contraception but maybe she
was just meant to be. My wife considered abortion as an option but I talked her out of it. I
said that if we were going to have kids eventually why not now. It took a lot of convincing
but we decided to keep Allie. Cindy can take care of Allie just fine I would say. As for how
could of a mother she is, I honestly don’t know if I can judge that. With me not being able to
handle Allie’s bouts of crying, she did great covering up for me. She did complain sometimes
though, but I think that is natural. Our disagreements never went away. Today she has left me
with the baby because as she quoted earlier “I should get over it and take care of Allie.” She
said she was fed up with me because of my issue with Allie crying. I don’t blame her
completely as my situation is just weird. I would try to place some faith in me if I was in her
place though.
I ordered some dinner as I was bored of cooking again and checked on Allie again. She was
getting a little irritable as her sleep time was approaching. I increased my caution level and
sat beside her. She has to be put to sleep before her crying takes place. It is a bit earlier than
her bedtime right now but I couldn’t vouch on her not crying if she stayed awake for an hour
longer. She started getting sleepy with the head patting and the lullaby. I was relieved and my
stress started to melt away. I felt like it was an achievement for me. I went back to finishing
my paperwork later and solved the crossword puzzles in today’s newspaper. It was about
midnight when I was done. I decided to watch a movie and was choosing a tape out of my
collection that I would like to watch again. That’s when it started, my worst fear realised.
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Allie woke up from her sleep and started crying. I could feel me already getting weak in my
knees. The cries felt like screams blasting into my brain as if someone had played it on a DJ
night as I was standing just beside the huge speakers. I went outside the room, grabbed my
earplugs, and tried to think about what I should do. My mental capabilities were getting
drained by the moment. I willed myself to get into the room and check what was wrong. I
checked her diaper first, all the while my body was quivering. The diaper was clean. I
remembered that I had fed her but tried it again anyways. She was not hungry. I put a pacifier
in her mouth but she smacked it away. Her cries were now gnawing at my soul of being. I
couldn’t hold on anymore and left the house. I couldn’t think, no thoughts materialized. I
waited for my head to calm down and decided to give another try. I took the rattler and tried
to divert Allie’s attention, all of it to no avail. I couldn’t take her in my arms as I felt weak. I
wasn’t sure I could hold her. I had to hold my head as well. I thought it may fall off, just plop
down my neck at any moment. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Why was the baby
crying? I was helpless to make it stop. I tried calling my wife but she didn’t answer. I
couldn’t leave Allie as well. So for what seemed like an age, I was just sitting there beside
her holding my head and writhing on the bed willing for it to stop. I don’t know how many
minutes or how many hours she cried for, I lost all sense of time. I even blacked out a few
times. But as suddenly as she had started crying, she stopped. She passed some gas and
pooped. I just sat there still agonized as the thumping in my head had yet to stop. Not wanting
the crying to start again I quickly removed the diaper with my unsteady hands and set it aside.
I cleaned Allie and dropped down beside her.
The next thing I remember is me getting up from the bed at 6:30 in the morning. The
previous night felt like a bad dream. There was no sign of her mother. I called out to see if
Cindy was back but there was no answer. My body was aching, as if I had a full-blown
workout the previous day at the gym. Allie was sound asleep, the dirty diaper lying on the
floor. I must have passed out then. Of all the things that make me weak I thought, it had to be
her. My baby is my kryptonite. I grabbed a glass of water and sat down at the couch with a
thoughtless mind. I had a new message on the phone. It was from my wife. She said she was
not going to come back. I am not sure what she meant. That just seemed weird. I think she
forgot to mention the time. She must have wanted to say she is not coming back till then and
so time. I am convinced that this is the case. It cannot be anything else. She knows I need her
to raise Allie. I am still exhausted. I fall back to sleep right there on the couch.
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11
Nightingale
Jayanth Tummalapenta 2017A7PS0075P and U Aswathy 2017ABPS1051P
Something hard jabs into my elbow and I wake up with a jolt. I look around groggily and see
Daniel leaning over my bedstead, his eyes scared and concerned. “What-?” I begin, my voice
rough with disuse, but he instantly shushes me with a finger to my lips and looks around like
he’s afraid someone might hear us.
There’s no one around, though. We are in a gloomy grey room in what feels like a hospital.
There’s a pitcher of water on my bedstead. I try to reach out for it, my throat aching, but
Daniel knocks it out of my reach. “Don't touch a thing,” he warns me testily. The clear water
spills all over the carpeted floor. “Daniel, darling, what’s wrong? Where are we?” I ask,
pulling his hand away from my mouth. My head is still cloudy, and my throat dangerously
dry.
“For the love of God Angela, stop yelling! Do you not remember anything at all?” Daniel
whispers to me frantically. “Remember what?” “We were abducted and you were drugged
and put to sleep,” he spits outs. “I was restrained, but I managed to break free. We must get
out of here, it’s not safe.” It takes a precious two minutes for my brain to sponge up the
information he gave me. “What do you mean, abducted?” I ask slowly, trying desperately to
grasp at any remaining threads of my memory. “The Nazis, Angela, the bloody Nazis! They
are planning to kill us, I heard them. Do you want to be gassed to death in a chamber
underground? I’ve been trying to wake you up for so long. Come on, we do not have time.
Please!” My husband pulls me to my feet.
As my mind slowly catches up with the world around me, my thoughts become clearer.
Memories of our abduction come back to me in flashes. A ferocious knock at our door.
Daniel asked me to run as fast as I can out the back door. Angry men streaming into our
living room and chaos everywhere. A large man’s hand closing around my mouth and the
sting of a needle on my forearm and finally, nothingness. Everywhere.
“Honey, I-I’m scared. My head hurts, what did--” Daniel slaps me once, hard, and the world
comes into sharp focus. “Trust me,” he says. “We need to get out.” I sit on the lone chair to
regain my bearings as my husband slowly and methodically searches for a way out. Now that
I no longer feel like a flashbang just exploded under my nose, I begin to pick up more details
about our strange prison cell. The room is spartan but comfortable. It is much larger than an
average living room, and I wonder at our captors’ generosity. My eyes are momentarily
drawn to Daniel as he moves into what seems like a bathroom. There are no windows, and a
pair of halogen light bulbs illuminate the interior. The door is made of solid oak, and nothing
short of a battering ram would be able to coax it open.
The room is totally devoid of background noise, and the silence is absolute. My body lets out
an involuntary shiver. “I think I found something!” my husband calls triumphantly, striding
back into the room. He leads me to the dingy attached bathroom. He points at the ventilator
high up on the wall beside the dirty bathtub. “That’s our key out of here.” He helps me stand
up precariously on the edge of the bathtub and I reach up to the vent’s edge to hoist myself
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up. It’s a tight fit, and I scrape myself in multiple places as I struggle into the cold metal tube.
An enclosed, tight, cold metal tube. Blood roars in my ears as my claustrophobia kicks in,
and I lash out with my arms and legs, screaming for all I am worth. I am manic, moving in
arbitrary directions, and my shrieks drown out my husband’s pleas for me to calm down.
Suddenly, my hands found purchase on a cold mesh grill. Hope. I force my body to stop
thrashing around as I turn my attention towards the grill. With a bit of persuasion, it detaches
from the wall, and I take my first breath of the cold night air. Thankfully, the window is only
one storey above ground. I jump out and my bare feet are cushioned by lush green grass. I am
free. My husband drops onto the ground behind me silently and pulls me into a hug. I don’t
let him go until my sledgehammer heart slows down, and I no longer feel the need to yell
myself hoarse. “We got lucky. Quickly, quickly!” he pulls me up and we run for our lives.
Our prison is like a fortress, surrounded by menacing cobbled walls topped with razor-sharp
barbed wire. There seems to be no way out. Daniel is frantic, looking behind him every few
seconds for guards. “Honey, where are we going?” I ask him, panting. “Out,” is all my
husband tells me. We scramble around in the darkness searching for possible exits. Time
passes, and the distinct lack of security is beginning to grate on my nerves. “Aha! I found it.
Honey, we need to climb up this wall. It’s easier here,” Daniel says, pulling me forward. I
squint into the darkness as my husband pushes me towards the wall. Just as I begin to
scramble up, I hear a voice behind me.
“Who’s there?” the gruff voice calls out. Terror strikes my heart, and I let out an involuntary
squeak. “Hush!” my husband whispers into my ear. He clamps his hand around my
mouth. “Who are you? Show yourself!” the voice comes closer. A light shines directly into
my eyes and I scream and fall onto the ground, cowering. Daniel lets go of me. “Well, what
do we have here?” says the disembodied voice. The light is like a supernova, burning my
retinas and rendering me helpless. I helplessly scream for my husband but nobody answers. I
hear faint clinks as the guard unhooks something from his belt and my hands are bound with
cold steel. “What is little Angela doing here all alone at night?” he asks me. “Is she trying to
escape? She
knows better, doesn’t she?”
My eyes adjust to the light and I squint at him as fiercely as I can. “I’m not alone, you fool!
My husband escaped, and he’ll be back for me at any moment. He’ll kill all of you Nazis, and
you’ll all go to Hell, where you belong!” The man laughs condescendingly, as he knows
something I don’t. Dark fury fills my heart, giving me courage. I hear other guards running
towards us and calling out. “Nazis. Is that what Daniel told you this time? Oh, honey,” the
man coos at me indulgently.
“Shut up, you disgusting idiot! He’ll come to get me, no matter what,” I scream. I kick at
him, but he simply traps me in his arms in a practiced motion. A few other guards appear,
panting heavily. “Again?” one of them asks, glaring at me. All of them look annoyed.
Another guard runs up to us with a wheelchair in tow. The guard who caught me gives me a
mocking look. “I don’t see your husband around anywhere, girl. Do you?” “I told you, he
escaped.” “Is that so? Okay then, until he comes back to break you out, why don’t you come
with me?” He hauls me onto my feet and forces me into the wheelchair. I struggle against my
handcuffs but realize it’s futile. Clasping my hands together, I pray my husband is safe and
sound. I know he’ll come back for me, I know he’ll never abandon me.
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The guards wheel me back towards the prison and all hope drains out of me drop by drop,
with every step that brings us closer to the cold grey building. As we enter, the guards at the
door look at me and smile. “Home Sweet Home,” the guard pushing my wheelchair says
finally, gesturing to the locked room, Daniel and I had escaped from. On a nameplate over the
door is the inscription, Nightingale Ward, Patients with Schizophrenia. I look at the sign
blankly.
“I’ve got to say, every time we lock you up, you find a new way to escape the asylum. You’re
a smart girl, I’ll give you that,” the guard tells me. “Now how about I give you some alone
time to think about what you've done? Give Daniel my best the next time he appears,” he
says, winking as he opens the door. He wheels me into the room and leaves me there as I
stare at him hopelessly. “Completely cuckoo,” I hear him tell the other guards as the door
shuts behind him. “Quite a handful,” agrees another.
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12
What a Day!
Abhiram Manoj 2017A4PS0410P and Madhumitha Muralidharan 2017B4A21194P
Inspector Jabaar woke up to the sound of his alarm ringing. He had already hit the snooze
button three times before he finally decided it was time to get out of bed. As he half-heartedly
put on his uniform he wondered how he would pass his time today at the office. With a heavy
sigh, he wore his crinkled uniform that was frayed at the sides. and just as he was about to
leave his house he got a call from Joey, his subordinate.
“Sir, there has been a kidnapping. An 8-year-old boy, Rakunde, has been reported missing”
declared Joey. It took Jabaar a few moments to process. It had been years since a crime this
major was reported in Pacifica. “Send me the location. I am on my way there” replied Jabaar.
The drive was surprisingly short. Jabaar felt a surge of adrenaline rush through his blood, a
feeling he felt had been lost forever. Pacifia was known throughout the state as the most
peaceful place in The US. This resulted in the government drastically reducing the number of
police posted there. The crime was basically nonexistent. “Nonexistent until now,” he thought
just as he reached the victim’s mother’s house.
He stopped outside what looked like a white two-storied bungalow. The place looked posh on
the outside but this view was changed when Jabaar went inside as once he went in, he saw
that the house was almost empty. “Are you Mrs. Kapoor?” asked Jabaar. “Ms. Kapoor” she
mumbled. Vidya Kapoor was an Indian woman, quite short with a lean body. She was
surprisingly strong-willed for a woman who had just lost her son. That being the case Jabaar
could make out that she was crying before he reached her.
The conversation they had was brief. Vidya only suspected two people of this action. She told
him that their names were Zucc and Susan Hard. Vidya heard about this website called
rentachild.com wherein you can give your child to a different couple for a few days and enjoy
a few days all to themselves. Vidya being a single divorced mother found it very difficult to
take care of Rakunde, her son while she was working and through this site, she found a nice
old couple who was willing to babysit Rakunde during her working hours. Well, at least they
were nice initially. They started becoming closer and closer to him over the years and
recently they offered to pay to spend time with Rakunde. She was happy about this fact
initially but when they started dropping him off later and later in the night she decided that
this behaviour was affecting her son’s lifestyle and she blocked them from her phone. Vidya
told Jabaar that this was when they started poking too much into her life. She came back one
day to find that they had visited her son in his school. Upon searching his bag, she found a
new phone and some sweets given to him by the Hards. Such disturbances stopped after she
complained to the website about the misbehaviour of the Hards. To her shock and dismay,
when she woke up in the morning she could not find her baby boy.
Jabaar listened to all this intensely and told her that he will see what he can do. He asked if he
could check around the house to look for clues. He looked around the house but couldn't find
anything significant. According to her, the doors were still locked in the morning and the
windows shut properly. It looks like the kidnapper had not left any evidence behind. He
decided to follow his only suspects and go meet the Hards as soon as possible. He asked
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Vidya if she knew where Susan and Zucc lived which to his surprise she didn't. He decided to
head back to the police station to search for the location of Mr. and Mrs. Hard.
On his way back, Jabaar thought of the cases he had solved before he was transferred here.
Back in Brooklyn, he had solved many kidnapping cases but this one felt different. He just
didn't know how. Upon arriving at the police station, Jabaar sat down at his computer and
started running a state search on the Hards. He tried five times, but the names didn't seem to
exist in the database. It became clear to Jabaar at that moment that something extremely fishy
was going on. The Hards didn't exist. They were living under false identities. Jabaar took a
deep breath and covered his head with his hands, as he knew that to find Rakunde, he'd have
to start from nowhere.
Jabaar decided to go back to meet Ms. Kapoor and ask her if the agency had given any way
of contacting the Hards. Jabaar went back to the house, to find a panic-stricken Vidya curled
up on the sofa. She looked as though she was ready to throw up, as though she can't spend
another moment without her Rakunde.
“Vidya, I know that right now, things are not looking bright. But I assure you, I’ll do
everything in my power to bring Rakunde back’” Jabaar said as he tried to console her. He
realised that one can only be so strong on the outside. Once Vidya had calmed down, Jabaar
started asking her more about the agency and the Hards. Vidya revealed that the agency had
not told her anything other than that they could be trusted, and broke down into tears. Jabaar
realised that Vidya wasn’t going to be of much help, in her current condition. He decided that
the best course of action was to go to the Head Office of the agency itself.
As he was on his way out he saw that one of the artifacts that he had seen last time on display
was missing. He recollected that there used to be a collection of glass plates there. He asked
if anyone had come while he was away or if she had recently moved any artifact. She replied
saying that she had anger issues since her divorce and that losing her son made her feel so
useless and angry that she broke all those plates to relieve her stress. Jabaar felt sorry for her
but felt sad at the same time as yet another possible clue came to nothing.
Jabaar on his drive back tried thinking of various ways to find the Hards and then essentially
Rakunde. He was still perplexed about how the kidnapper entered and exited the house when
everything was locked, to begin with. He felt as though the rent-a-child agency will be able to
shed some light on the problems he was facing.
It was a three-hour trip but Jabaar finally managed to reach the agency headquarters. He was
surprised at what he saw in front of him. The place was bigger than the biggest apartment in
Pacifica. He went inside and was treated warmly until he was told that he was not a customer
but instead was here to investigate a kidnapping. The moment they came to know that he was
the police they had a very changed attitude in behavior. He was offered to directly meet
Officer Johnathan Santorini. The attitude of the officer was very different though. He told
him that he had legal papers showing that he had the right to refuse to show who the Hards
were until and unless he got a court-mandated order. Jabaar tried to squeeze as much
information as he could out of them but all he managed to get was that the names Zucc Hard
and Susan Hard were just aliases.
147
He stormed off, frustrated about everything that had been happening till the date. He could
not piece together anything that was happening. He was in a state of real confusion. Jabaar
knew that finding the Hards was crucial to finding young Rakunde. Flustered, he decided to
go eat something and get back to work on finding him.
The blistering heat was not helping Jabaar’s already bothered state. As he walked inside the
deli to grab a sandwich, he heard the names ‘Mr. Hard for your three sandwiches, please!”
His ears perked up, and his eyes fastened on Mr. Hard. He saw where he was sitting, but saw
only another lady sitting there, who he assumed to be Mrs. Hard. Jabaar hurried over to the
table. The couple saw him hurrying towards them and got up in a rush and tried to run. They
made it quite far, but eventually, Jabaar stopped them, and sat them down, and tried to get
them to confess to kidnapping Rakunde. The couple confessed to using fake names, but they
claimed it was only because they were actually from Finland, and their visas had expired and
so were being sought out by the government to get deported. They also claimed that Rakunde
had come over to play with them a lot because they were so anxious to be around children
since they had been trying for a long time but were unable to conceive. At this moment,
Jabaar was pretty convinced that he’d be able to get a confession out of them. However, they
denied having seen Rakunde the day before. After having confessed to everything, including
their illegal stay in the country, Jabaar thought it was a bit strange that they were claiming to
not have seen Rakunde. Perplexed, he took off. It was evening time, and Jabaar was tired.
Phew! He hadn’t worked like this in… well, forever. He grudgingly decided to walk back to
the police station. As he was turning into a lane, he saw a small young boy being pulled
across the road by some man. The face of the boy seemed familiar to Jabaar. Then he
realised. He took out his phone to see the photo of Rakunde that Vidya had sent, and turned
once again to look at the small boy. It was him! Jabaar went chasing after him and started to
shout for the man and the boy. Rakunde turned around, and the man with him turned as well.
And believe it or not, the man was Rakunde’s father.
“Sir, did you take Rakunde from his home without informing your ex-wife?” Jabaar asked. “I
had to. I had to! The evil woman, she hurts my son so. She has anger issues. She does not
hold back on hurting my little Rakunde. See his scars. See the bruise marks on his chest,
hands, his legs. My poor son!” Rakunde’s father cried. Jabaar recalled the broken plates he
had seen in Vidya’s home and the worried look in Rakunde’s father’s eyes.
Rakunde’s father told Jabaar that he had sneaked inside the house with a spare key he had to
the house, and since Rakunde was fast asleep, all he had to do was quietly carry him and take
him out. After hearing this, Jabaar was confused for a moment, deciding what was to be done
next. Until Rakunde said “Policeman, please don’t make me go back to my mother. She hurts
me so much, and every part of my body hurts all the time. Please let me stay with my dad.”
Jabaar knew at that point that it was not Rakunde’s father who should be punished, but his
mother should be. Jabaar immediately called up his subordinates and sent them to that white
bungalow to arrest Vidya. After the long day, tired from the stress, Jabaar lay down on his
bed. “What a day. Pacifia has not seen one like it. These things only happen once in a blue
moon though. I’m sure tomorrow will be a normal day,” Jabaar thought to himself, as he
closed his eyes for the night.
13
148
Turning Tables
Avanti Sontakke 2017B4AB0613P and Tanya Syag 2017D2TS1242P
The thinnest skin on the outside of the body is on the eyelids. My eyelids were being pulled
upwards but something seemed to hold their ends down. There was a huge effort and it felt
like they would tear at the next instance but instead, my vision was suddenly overpowered by
bright white light. It took me a while but once I was able to see clearly all I saw was a tiled
ceiling.
My body did not feel like my own. It was weak and numb, every movement got my muscles
tingling and aching. The place I was in was unfamiliar, I tried to think about what brought me
here, what had weakened me, and what was holding me captive? I couldn’t move, couldn’t
speak. My throat ached for a drink of water and though I could not touch my skin I still felt
the dryness. I tried to bring my arms close to my face, and I saw my left arm, thin and patchy.
My right arm was held back by something, I tried harder and lifted my head. What looked
like an IV was attached to it; clear liquid seemed to be flowing into my veins. This was when
I started to panic.
My hair seemed to have grown a bit, I could see its ends near my shoulders. I managed to
raise my head higher and support myself using my left elbow. There was no other support, no
pillows. I was lying on a thin mattress on a thin bed, dressed in a plain white tunic. The bed
seemed to be in the centre of the room, with the IV stand and a monitor on a metal table on
my right. The room was not small for a single bed and was filled with white light. There was
only one door and it was straight in front of me. A tiny gap at the bottom showed that it was
darker outside the room. Then I saw something that made me rub my eyes and look again.
There was no lock on the inside of the door.
The rest of my body wasn’t bound by any restraints, and I managed to sit up and keep my feet
on the floor. I looked at the IV. Was it something necessary for my health, or was it not
supposed to be there? I didn’t have any medical conditions and felt alright otherwise, I
decided I couldn’t just sit there and wait for someone to come. What if no one came? Worse
yet, what if someone came and turned out to be the bad guy, someone who was keeping me
against my will?
This certainly felt like the most probable option, because my head felt heavy in a different
way. It was as if I had been drugged, and had woken up from a long sleep. I don’t know
where my body found the strength, but it managed to stand up. I held on to the IV stand and
found that the line seemed long enough to reach the door. I tried to drag the stand itself, and
the metal against the tiles made a sharp noise. That was when I heard a switch being used.
The lights outside turned on.
Someone was coming to harm me. I heard footsteps, though I could not tell at what distance.
Something made my heart race, and I rushed to the door and tried to push it. It was locked
from the outside. The stand had fallen and the liquid was spilling out of the IV bag. I
managed to get closer to the bed while still tethered to the tubes. The footsteps stopped all of
a sudden, I couldn’t even tell whether they were outside my door. Turns out they were. The
door was slowly opened, and a figure in a white coat stepped inside. The light outside seemed
149
dimmer. It was a man with short black hair and a small build, with a pen in his coat pocket
and a syringe in his right hand. He was holding it with caution, and looking at her carefully,
with a stoic smile.
“Who are you?” I shouted.
“I’m a doctor, there’s no need to panic. I have something that will help.”
He started to move towards me with the syringe raised. Something in his expression made me
believe something was off. I moved quickly with surprising speed and pulled away the IV
stuck in my arm. He seemed to be surprised and shouted for me to stop. But I pushed past
him and ran out the door.
My arm was bleeding because of the IV, and I cut off a piece of my tunic and tried to tie it
tight around my elbow. It was a shabby job but the bleeding slowed down. The room was at
the end of a long corridor, and the lights outside seemed to dim the farther I ran. I only saw
darkness ahead but did not stop until I reached the end. There was a window at this end, but it
was covered with blinds. As I reached for them, I heard someone else coming from my left. It
was a woman this time, again in a white coat. She was taller than the man and it did not look
like she had anything threatening with her.
She spoke with a soft voice, “How do you feel? Is your head better?”
Something told me she was more dangerous than the man. I kept looking at her as I took a
few steps backward.
“Do you remember anything?”
There was another door there, and it was open. I felt a chill when I saw her smile. I was even
more unnerved by the fact that she did not shout for help or try to stop me. I closed the door
behind me and there was complete darkness. I reached out and my hands found rough
concrete at waist level. I took a step closer and nearly fell, but realized it was a step. I was at
the midpoint of a staircase and didn’t know where it led. I reasoned that the exit should be on
the bottom floor, and started my way downwards. Some fifteen steps in the dark later I started
hearing sounds. They were short and sharp as if coming from a machine. They were like
slightly longer beeps, but beeps that made something in my head burst. As my head started to
ache, I almost tripped as I made my way down and reached the end of the staircase.
The landing was almost as lit as the corridor had been at the end. And I could see the faint
outline of a door. I started to walk towards it but realized that the sound seemed to be coming
from behind me. I turned and saw a glass window to the right and behind the staircase. I felt
panic build up but I still walked towards the window, looking for answers.
About a foot away from it, I could clearly see inside. It was made of glass, and on the other
side was a long room similar to the one she had woken up in, except that it was bigger and
had more people. I saw people in white coats and people in hospital gowns, but this place was
no hospital. Most of the people were either unconscious or seemed to be following everything
the white coats said. I saw a man who was tall and broad-shouldered, but sitting on the floor
and crying as a white coat injected something in his arm. Horrified, I almost fell back as I ran
to the opposite door. My legs had started to ache and my arm was burning. I pushed the door
open and fell forward. My face had hit the rough ground. I felt the dirt dig into my skin as I
tried to get up. My arm was bleeding less, but there were new cuts on my hands and face. I
150
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