Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn

[chackojoseph]

chackoji,

Well, they had lunch and went back to work

MihirJi,

Veeerrrry Baad. They should have washed their hands, at least

[Mihir.D]

chackoji,

Well, they had lunch and went back to work

MihirJi,

Veeerrrry Baad. They should have washed their hands, at least

chackoji,

U win

Cheers.

[chackojoseph]

chackoji,

U win

Cheers.

No one can argue washing hands is not important.

Dileep Cheta, you promised one post every day

[Dileep]

Chapter 21

The lonely wolf and the lioness got together to fight the red dragon. That was the comment by one literarily inclined middle manager at Breeze about the unlikely friendship between Sreejith and Jasmine. The dragon was, in fact trying to sneak into the lion's den.

The civilian arm of Breeze Tech, where Sreejith worked, had a product suite that protected networks from sneak attacks. It served the critical installations of a number of enterprises, as well as formed part of several commercial packages. Versions of the same technology protected various defense establishments of the country as well. Naturally, it was a matter of grave concern when some hackers were successful in compromising a system within the domain of Breeze. It was a server used by the defense arm. They claimed that it didn't carry any critical information, and nothing is lost or leaked. But the fact that someone was able to sneak in into a system in their backyard would seriously affect their credibility.

Sreejith was surprised to be drafted to a team tasked to attend to the issue. Mr. Tyagi, the CEO, wanted to make good of the situation. Since the vector of the attack was still largely unknown, he wanted the team to 'play along' with the attack, to get as much of details as possible. The server will be kept in quarantine, with every packet of data being captured, logged and saved. Logically, it will still be part of the production network, leaving no clue to the hackers about the tracking.

And surprise over surprise. Jasmine Basheer was the member from IT group. There was a team analyzing the data offline, but Sreejith and Jasmine had to babysit the server.

Even though the actual source of the hacks were either unknown, or undisclosed, everyone seemed to believe that it originated from the middle kingdom. Sreejith completely ignored the allegory of the wolf, lioness and dragon, and tried to focus on the work ahead. Still, he couldn't help the recurring image of the roaring lioness frequently coming back to his mind.

The antagonism between them had subsided a lot by that time, and they had come to a stage of acknowledging each other as persons of competence in their own field. The past hostilities, pranks and traps were not really forgotten, but they were viewed in a different light. One of admiration of technological ingenuity. Sreejith was surprised upon himself for being respectful of her strength, while she being referential to his technical acumen. Still, both felt a bit uncomfortable on the team up.

It was mind numbing work. Checking through thousands of logs, and megabytes of captured data. Running pattern matching on them. Figuring attack vectors, and running test on them. It was like being Sherlock Holmes, stuck in a room. It was Sreejith who did all the work, while Jasmine took care that nothing happened to the server and the production network. It was utterly uncomfortable. There was no time or mind even to talk. Sreejith sat hunched in front of his laptop, while Jasmine lingered on around, wondering how to get something worthwhile to do, and doing the odd maintenance task she could do remotely from the terminal. She felt bored. She felt angry. And she felt irritated. This guy is sitting there, typing away, sometimes mumbling to himself, sometimes humming a tune. He used to be somewhat friendly before this work started, but now he is so deep immersed in his work, that he is totally ignoring her.

That she couldn't take.

She enjoyed the attention. She enjoyed the adoring eyes panning over her. She enjoyed the power of being BOFH. She enjoyed being a rebel wearing a hijab over leggings and top. She enjoyed being the pretty bitch.

But being ignored by a man sitting a foot away was something she couldn't come to terms with. She always was the focus. She always had the spotlights on her. But she is sitting there, doing nothing, and getting no attention.

She felt bad. On one side, she felt angry at this man, but on one side she appreciated his dedication. Here is someone, sitting oblivious to his environment, literally hacking into a jungle, and building a fortress. She was not really clued in into the inner workings of security systems, but the little she understood was overwhelming.

The ice was broken the day a server went down.

After days of passively watching, it was Jasmine's turn to do hectic work, while Sreejith looked on. She was cleaning the mess he accidentally created, and he sat there, feeling like a dunce cap weighing a ton is sitting on his head. It was his doing. He crashed the server. He was testing a fix. It didn't work, and the production server went down. He had realized it moments later, but the damage was already done. It was incredibly stupid from his side. On top of that, he did it right in front of the watchful eyes of the lioness.

He was expecting Jasmine to explode in anger.

But nothing happened. She just sat there, running system checks and restore from backup. She didn't even cast a reprimanding glance back at him.

As the initial rush of adrenaline had subdued, the sweat dried, and after figuring that the crash did not cause much damage, Sreejith relaxed a bit and stretched a bit from the perennial crouch. He didn't yet dare to speak, but he was comfortable enough to let his eyes and mind roam a bit. He noticed the clinical precision by which Jasmine worked on the server. Rather than crouching, she sat upright, the red shirt with golden embroidery of a pair of intertwined vines stretched tightly across her back, with the outline of the seam of the undershirt visible. The hijab of red silk, with a matching pattern of embroidery was draped lazily over the back. As far as he can remember, she always wore matching hijabs to the tops. Maybe she is doing embroidery herself, he thought.

The air was saturated with the pungent perfume notoriously famous in the company. It was a matter of speculation in the gossip circles on the source of those scents. There was always something subtly different about the smell. No two days were alike. Just like any smell, you lost sensitivity to it after some time, but there is a lingering effect on your nerves.

Sreejith pushed his chair closer and tried to look at the screen over her shoulder. His senses was already accustomed to the strong tones of the perfume, but as he moved closer to the source, he felt something different deep within. Maybe it is the intensity. Maybe it is the mixing of feminine pheromones with the smell. Maybe it is good old lust of man.

Without realizing what he is doing, he pushed his face down, and took a sniff.

Even though he never touched her, Jasmine, who had just started the restore, was somehow startled by that. She turned sharply around and interjected “What?”

Sreejith felt like he was suddenly caught naked.

“Nothing. I was looking at your screen.” He stammered, unable to look at her face.

“OK. The file system is fine. I just started the data restore. It is going to take a little while, and everything should be back up again.” She said, apparently ignoring what had just happened.

Sreejith looked at her, awaiting the approaching storm. If at all for the crime of screwing up the server.

“What?” She asked again, with a smile.

“Aren't you going to yell at me?”

“For what? Sniffing my neck?” She laughed. Sreejith was stunned for a moment.

“No. For crashing your server.” He shot back.

“What is the use! I know it was an accident.” She shrugged.

“Thanks.” Sreejith said, with a sigh of relief.

“What were you thinking? I am an animal, or something?” She asked, the smile still on.

“Oh, much worse, in fact.” Sreejith shared the smile.

“It WILL be worse if you repeat it again.” She said.

“What? Crashing the server?”

“No. Sniffing my neck.” She said, the smile disappeared.

“I am sorry.” Sreejith said, his face down.

“It's ok.” She said consolingly. Still, Sreejith couldn't face her. He wowed not to do it again. An uneasy silence crept in, broken by the cooling fans and hard disks.

“Can I ask you something?” Sreejith finally ventured.

“Yes?” She said, her smile was back.

“What kind of perfume are you wearing?” He asked, with some reluctance.

“Oh, I make it on my own. It is my hobby” She said.

“Oh!” He said, and went back to his brooding. Several moments passed.

“Is the smell bothering you?” She finally asked.

“No, not at all.” He said, more out of courtesy.

“I will try to make something different.” She said, half to herself. Sreejith didn't reply.

[Dileep]

Thanx for the comments folks. Ramana, just want to mention that this segment was written several weeks ago, and only minor editing was done on it since. Hope you aren't disappointed.

I write stuff that I wouldn't be embarrassed to discuss with my kids. So, the answer to Chacko's question is what Mihir already gave. No incident in this narrative is trivial with respect to the main thread, so keep watching.

[chackojoseph]

People got dirty mind. I said that because Dileep was complaining that no feed back.

Then what happened Dileep cheta.

[Tanaji]

Interesting and riveting stuff.

No feedback because earlier I thought you did not like interruptions (at least that was the impression I got last time I asked some clarifications).

But good stuff... back to hiding.

[Rahul M]

I like the way you are developing the characters. the perfume was a particularly nice touch.

[chackojoseph]

Frankly, I hate to see interruptions. Dileep should see the number of views on the thread to understand the popularity. for me, its extra effort to open the thread and find out if Dileep has posted or not. It also breaks up the story. Similar problem with Shankars story.

But, its my personal opinion.

[babbupandey]

For the same reason I refrained from posting, it breaks the flow of story.
But, anything for Dileep as long as he is happy!
Good story so far, sir!
I caught a few typos:
referential -> should be reverential
wowed -> should be vowed

Keep up the good work!

[Dileep]

Chapter 22

Sreejith walked to the internet cafe in the same complex where he public phone he just used. Chavakkad, though a very small town, had a proliferation of public phones, cell phones and internet cafes. The town had the distinction of having the majority of the men being expats in the gulf countries. There is good business providing the relatives back home with communication channels.

When internet cafes begun, there was no security or control for them. You just got an internet connection, a few PCs, and built cubicles for the users. Anyone could walk in, pay the price and surf the web to their heart's content. It was mostly used by young people to watch *****. Then, some smart ones realized that they could get some valuable privacy in those tiny cubicles, which could facilitate some intimacy that is difficult to attain elsewhere. That prompted the unscrupulous kind of the owners to install webcams to invade into that tiny bit of privacy. There was a number of scandals, but those weren't really the driving factor for the clampdown.

A lot of cyber crimes were found to be originating from those internet cafes. People did all kinds of bad things, like stalking, hacking, smear campaigns, targeting, etc from the anonymity of those facilities. More serious crimes, like terrorism didn't wait too long to follow.

The government decided to clamp down, and laws were put in place, requiring the operators to verify and record identification of all the users. To cover their own behinds, most operators installed security cameras at the sign up counter, and kept snapshots of the ID documents presented, and often, that of the users themselves.

Sreejith confidently walked in, and slapped a drivers license on the table. It was issued to certain Sanjeev Kumar, resident of Palakkad. The photograph, complete with the beard and mark of sandal paste, was his own. It didn't take him more than an hour to print it on an inkjet printer of his cousin. The hologram was a bit of a problem. He solved it by removing one from the carton of a CFL lamp. It didn't certainly look like the original hologram, but it was highly unlikely that the shop owner would check it. Holograms doesn't copy on xerox, so it wouldn't leave a trace either.

The shopkeeper, a young man in his early twenties, copied down the number and details of the license, took a snap of it on the webcam, and let Sreejith go to one of the cubicles.

With a sigh, Sreejith sat down on the uncomfortable chair. He didn't dare to check his older e-mail ids. His first priority was to check for any reply from Julio Fernando. If he got the chance, he also wanted to do some exploration on the news about his case.

The only source of news he had till then, were the news papers. He used to scour all the available ones, from the national dailies to the local ones. After the initial sensational break, the papers practically ignored the case. Within a few days, it was hard to find even a mention. He wanted information. Anything at all that can shed some light. He wished some google time.

The last time he was online, it took a lot of time to upload the audio clip to send to Julio, so he couldn't get time to do the research. This time he was looking forward to a bit of productive searches.

With thumping heart, he opened the brand new gmail account he recently created. As expected, there was the reply from Julio. But the content was not what he expected.

He had sent parts of the audio clip he captured from the room of the two Bengali guys at Vasu's lodge. It seemed to be in urdu, and he wanted to figure what is going on. Their actions are very suspicious, but he was not in a position to make any moves, without compromising himself. Deep within, he felt that they are into something very bad, and instinctively, he wanted to get to the end of it.

He had figured that Julio could easily find out about his plight. After all, even though he never told directly, there were enough information in the public domain that could point to his involvement with Breeze. So, he decided to be open about the problem, while not disclosing his location, or the exact nature of the troubles. He just mentioned that he has some audio material that needs transcription. He let it imply that it is something related to the spy case slapped upon himself.

Instead of any transcript, or even a description of the audio clip what he got was a barrage of questions from Julio. Where did he get it? Is it from near a temple? What kind of trouble is he in? Is it related to the spy case at Breeze? Whose voice is it on the clip? What where they doing. How did he manage to get it? How exactly it is related to his problem? Clearly Julio was excited when he was typing the message. He hadn't even corrected the typos.

Then, there was another message from him, sent after ten minutes from the original one. This was more composed, and precise. That too, did not give any new information about the clips. Instead, it implored him to keep a low profile, and not to mess with those people again. He gave a cell phone number, and asked to call as soon as possible.

Sreejith wrote the number down on a piece of paper, and sat there, thinking. He totally forgot to google the news about his case.

It was already late afternoon. He closed the browser window, cleared the cache, and stood up. Deep in thought, he walked past the counter, absent mindedly waving at the shopkeeper bye.

He did not call Julio. And he did not open that e-mail id again.

That night, he dialed the phone he left in the other room. It came back out of range. Dead battery, he thought.

During the night, he walked past Room No 6, but didn't hear anything. The bolt was open, so it was occupied.

He spent the night, playing the audio clip again and again, trying to figure out what is being said.

What he could gather, made him lose the rest of the sleep.

[Dileep]

Tanaji, I do not remember making any impression that I didn't like interruptions. Must be a misunderstanding. The feedback is not an interruption. Mixing multiple stories (like what is happening in the scenarios thread) sure is, and I do not like that.

I am not ashamed to admit that I need feedback, any type of it, to keep me interested in this hobby of mine. Otherwise, there is no sense of purpose.

Chacko, I do monitor the page views. It helps, but that is not proactive feedback. I did some introspection on this lately, and I realized that what I am looking for, is a kind of reassurance that someone did 'receive' the communication I intended to make. Pointing out the easter eggs, hidden meanings and associations, uncovering the subtelities etc are very gratifying for the author.

Thanks for everything.

[chackojoseph]

You are right.

Than what happened Dileep Cheta

[ramana]

Chacko, Thats not feedback.

Come back with real feedback on the methods and craft and then it would be feedback.

Since you know the locale, how about comapre and contrast Jasmine with the heroine in earlier story? What is similar and what is different?

[Dileep]

Chapter 23

As he expected, the room was more or less in the same condition that he saw two days ago. The rolled up mats, the old rusty trunk and the pile of the junk were all in the right places. It shouldn't take much time to retrieve the cell phone and get out. Too bad he didn't have a spare battery. Now he will have to charge the phone overnight and lose the intelligence for one whole night. It was disappointing, and scary at the same time. The little he could gather from listening to the clips already captured had aroused his keen interest in the occupants of this room.

Most of the conversation was in a language that sounded like urdu. He only had very basic skills in hindi, and the only exposure to urdu was via some film songs. He could have understood something if it was a normalized speech, like the formal speeches by Pakistani officials. Spoken language made in hushed tones, when captured by a hidden phone will need good language skills to understand.

But Julio let him down.

He couldn't figure that part. Julio seemed to be overly interested in his whereabouts. Almost like trying to locate him. Maybe he doesn't trust him. Maybe he thinks he is really guilty. In any case, he didn't think it to be prudent to get back to Julio. Let him go to hell, he thought. I will get as far as I can, and see what I can figure.

Most of the time, they seemed to be transcribing something, something descriptive into the computer. It appeared that one of them would dictate, and the other would type on the computer. Often they would argue among themselves about a word or phrase. These provided Sreejith with an opportunity to figure out what they are writing. He could detect some words like 'darwaaza', 'chabootra', 'sehen'. Also the words 'kaafir', 'shaitan' and 'hind' appeared a lot. That was really worrysome. He tried hard to detect anything in English. There is a tendency for people to intersperse some english words in their diction. But these people seemed to be writing solely in their language, because he could not grasp anything in English.

Or maybe it is their pronunciation.

In any case he was stuck at this place for a couple more days. His bail application will be moved at the NIA court in a day or two, and if he gets bail, he can safely return. It would be better to collect as much intelligence as he could while he is there. Once he is back, he can give it to Vijay. He is in home department, and he will forward it to the state police to proceed further.

The need of the hour is to retrieve the phone, charge it and replace it again at the hiding place.

Sreejith went down on all fours and crawled behind the trunk, making sure not to make any noise. He took out the Led lamp and searched around at the nook where he hid the phone.

He lost a heartbeat. The phone was missing.

Frantically, he searched around, to see if it was moved, or he forgot where exactly he left it. It was not to be found anywhere.

He started sweating heavily. The thumping of his heart clearly audible inside his head. He swooned a little as blood rushed into his head. He let his face down and tried to calm his breath.

Moments passed. He recovered his composure a little bit. Holding back a sigh, he lifted his brow and took one more, careful look around. Hoping against hope that the phone would magically appear there. Nothing was found.

He crawled back a bit and scanned the wider area with the help of the lamp. Only the dusty floor and the cobwebs were seen. The phone was gone.

Did they find it? That was highly unlikely. He hid it very carefully, behind an old jar of a mixer. It could not be seen easily without crawling behind the trunk.

But where did it go? Rats and mice didn't eat cell phones. If it is gone, only the humans moved it. If those guys had got it, he is in deep trouble.

It had hacked software. Even if someone picked it up, it will look like turned off. He had configured it to auto answer when called, and then activated the trapdoor which turned off the backlight of the LCD display. The phone will look dead, while it is perfectly functional. The only way to recover the display was to turn it off and then back on. Just pressing the power button won't be enough because the keylock would be active. You have to blind type the keylock open, and then press and hold the power button to turn it off.

It was a pretty neat trick he originally developed to spy on his flat mate at Bangalore. The dude was running a little bit of illicit business from their room, and they wanted some proof to kick him out. It worked neatly then, and it did to work here too.

Only that this time it seems to have met its match. But those guys should think of it as a dead phone. The battery might already been dead anyway.

No big deal, Sreejith thought. Let them have it. He will keep a low profile and assume nothing happened. He has some information already, good enough to set the hounds after these guys.

A bit reassured, he crawled back from behind the trunk. Once back into the open, he carefully stood up and slapped the dust off his shirt and lungi. Suddenly he froze.

Footsteps were heard in the hall, walking down from the entrance. They tentatively moved closer. It was too early for any of the tenants or even old man Vasu himself to be back. The place received guests only in the afternoon and early evening. It was unusual for the place to see movement in the morning.

Maybe a tenant who is idle. He stood still, listening intently.

The footsteps came closer, and as Sreejith held his breath, trying to steady his nerves, they stopped right in front of the room he is in.

Then the door, which he had instinctively bolted after entering, started being violently rattled, and abusive curses in broken Malayalam and hindi rushed in.

Sreejith tried hard to hold himself from fainting.

[Rahul M]

cliffhanger ! damn ! now I have to wait patiently.

[chackojoseph]

Chacko, Thats not feedback.

Come back with real feedback on the methods and craft and then it would be feedback.

Since you know the locale, how about comapre and contrast Jasmine with the heroine in earlier story? What is similar and what is different?

ramama,

I have the same level of knowledge of locale of kerala, like I have on Imphal, Srinagar, Patna or most states in India. I have been in kerala, not more than I have been in rest of India, with absolutely few exceptions.

Also, in my opinion, this story cannot have "much feedback." This is not like Shankars story where there is equipment and some known incidences. We can comment on locations, equipment etc. But, this is not there in this story and it makes it hard. Very difficult to comment on craft. Dileep is doing wonderfully on the possibilities a novice guy on run could do. On em.... Jasmine... No comments

But, the best feed back is I am absolutely hooked to Shankars and Dileeps stories.

======================

Then what happened Dileep Cheta

Added later....

ramana, If you want to understand how much I know Kerala, you can read here

[Sanku]

ramana, If you want to understand how much I know Kerala, you can read here

I dont know if that reflects on your understanding of Kerala (going by the angry comments ), but I must say this was beautifully written piece, straight from the heart which "gets to" the reader and conveys the emotions and ideas without even delving into details.

Kudos....

[chackojoseph]

I dont know if that reflects on your understanding of Kerala (going by the angry comments ), but I must say this was beautifully written piece, straight from the heart which "gets to" the reader and conveys the emotions and ideas without even delving into details.

Kudos....

I have not mentioned what happened between me and the Keralites in Dubai. It's hilarious. Someday, when it comes to it, I will write about it. Its absolutely Tom and Jerry stuff.

Generally speaking, the number of place I have been living since childhood, gives me a perspective of what most states are. I can easily blend with most of the people from Indian states as I understand the language, food, culture etc. The thing is that its not so darned different from others. Just that there are regional temperaments (as I mentioned in the article) sets us apart. Some things like languages are very different, but, since I can understand it in elementary level, I sometimes can't distinguish which language it is. In meditation ( I have done that too Transcendental meditation, yogic flying etc), you call it transcending.

About the comments, at least I know I am being read (other than the stats counter) and debated. This is what Dileep says that "he wants." Its understandable.

But, me being me, I need to tell what has to be told in my own fashion.

Thanks for the comment though.

[manish.rastogi]

Amazingly written Dileep Sir....can't wait for more!!!I feel like stealing all of your written stuff right away!!! haha.....

[Dileep]

Chapter 24

“He Vasu Etta, quick! Rush to your place!” Syed Ali called out, moving the phone from his ears and raising himself from the old steel chair. Old man Vasu got startled, and spilled the hot frothy tea he was sipping. “Some ruckus is happening at your place!” Ali completed the sentence as he stood up.

“Ruckus? Who told you Ali?” Vasu involuntarily took a big gulp of the piping hot tea, burning his mouth and throat. The pilgrims rarely visited the old dingy shop, but the locals, especially the small time vendors at the east gate of the temple, could not start their day without the strong, frothy brew, expertly concocted by the old frail hands of Moosa. Though the old man had delegated much of the activities at the place to his son Syed Ali, he still wouldn't part with the tin jug at the tea counter. He watched with a bit of irk as Syed walked excitedly towards Vasu. He had forgotten when he first met Vasu. It was decades ago. They were friends from the days he was selling tea from a kettle, and Vasu cleaned toilets at the Sudarshan lodge. Guruvayoor was a small village then, with a few lodging places and shops around. Vasu would come to his shop every day, drink the tea, and take part in the town gossip, right after his temple visit.

“Zakir, the pan vendor just called me. There is some fight going on inside it seems. He and some neighbours are their. He asked you to rush there!” Syed said excitedly. “Come, I will take my bike.” He briskly walked out. “Father, let me go and take a look.” he told Moosa as an afterthought. Moosa grunted, the meaning of which could not be deciphered. Old man Vasu took another gulp of the tea, wiped his lips and rushed after him. Within a moment, the motorbike carrying them disappeared around the corner.

A small crowd was formed at the entrance of Vasu's lodge. The gate was open, and Syed rushed his bike in like a stunt rider. He screeched to a halt right at the front door, scaring some of the onlookers. Vasu jumped out from the pillion seat and rushed in, yelling “What is going on here?” He rushed in into the front door and froze.

Inside, the younger of the duo of tenants of Room No 6 was in a wrestling match with the young man of Room 4. The poor boy was no match to the bigger man. He was being beaten mercilessly, while he did only feeble efforts to protect himself. The man was yelling something in his own language, which no one understood.

“Hey, what is this? Stop it!!” Vasu yelled at the top of his voice. “Someone! Hold them! Keep them apart!!” with this he ran towards the fighting men.

Sreejith managed to block one blow from the assailant, but another one landed on the side of his head. He literally saw stars, and it was then he heard the shouts from the old man. He took the opportunity to land a feeble, but well aimed punch on the chin of the assailant. It didn't have much effect on him though.

“Vasu Ettaa!! He is killing me!! Save me!!” He yelled. He could see blood spurting from his mouth as he spoke. As the opponent turned his head to see behind, he managed to maneuver his leg to kick him away.

Vasu ran in and tried to grab the man, but he was violently pushed away. The old man fell backward with a wail “Oh! He killed me!!”


That changed the scene instantly. Some of the young men in the onlookers, including Syed Ali ran forward and confronted the man. Sreejith leaned back to the wall ans tried to steady himself. His whole body thronged with every beat of the heart. He could taste blood in his mouth, and his left eyelid was getting swollen by the second. He swooned, but fought hard to keep consciousness.

“Stop!” The man yelled. “He.. Hee..” he pointed towards Sreejith and stammered. The little Malayalam he knew had vapourized in the excitement, and he was at a loss on what to say.

“He tried to rape me!” Sreejith yelled, taking all his remaining strength. A hush fell among the spectators. The man froze. He didn't understand what was said, but instinctively knew it is something serious.

“Rape?” Syed Ali asked, a bit unsure about what he meant.

“Yes. He tried to do un-natural* to me.” Sreejith's lost his breath as he muttered the last words.

“Is it?” Syed was visibly enraged. “Come folks! We shouldn't leave this ********” He turned to the man, who was standing there confused.

“No No. He came, my room.” He made a feeble attempt to explain. But the mob was not willing to hear. They approached him, with intention to apprehend him. The man instantly grasped the turn of the situation. He took a step backward, and steadied himself. Then he proceeded to form himself into some kind of fighting stance. He used deliberate, exaggerated moves for good effect. The mob hesitated for a moment. None of them had any experience with martial arts, but they had seen enough movies to realize the intent of the moves.

“Don't come near!” He snarled. Syed Ali, who was in the forefront, stopped in his tracks. The rest of the people did the same.

The man started to slowly crawl backwards, towards the room he used to occupy. A bundle was lying near the door. The door was open, and one of the shutters had caved in, and was hanging from one of the hinges. He continued to make elaborate moves and poses, while taking small step after step backwards, moving towards the bundle. The mob followed him, keeping the safe margin of a couple of feet.

“Stop, don't think you can escape!” Syed yelled, but his voice lacked any conviction. He, or anyone else in the mob was willing to fight someone who obviously knew 'karate'.

“Don't come near” the man snarled. He had reached the bundle. He felt around with his left feet to locate it. Without taking his eyes off from the mob, he lowered himself to pick up the bundle. Once it is in his grasp, he grabbed it, and stood up. He then put his hand into it, and removed a knife. The blade was less than eight inches. He held it in his right hand, and continued to wave it in a methodical fashion.

The mob fell back another two feet.

Sreejith watched the drama from the back. He had slid down the wall, and ended up in a sitting position, leaning on the wall. He sat there, panting, and trying to regain some strength. Blood streamed freely from the corner of his mouth, and his left eye was almost swollen shut.

“Nobody move!” the man ordered, while he continued to walk backward. This threat went unheeded, as the mob followed him at a safe distance.

“Don't leave him! Get him!” Another brave youth yelled, but he didn't make any attempt to obey himself. Old man Vasu pushed himself up from the prostrate position, groaning woefully. Syed Ali and another man broke the ranks and went towards him, trying to take care of the old man.

The assailant, now armed and dangerous, had reached the front door. While the mob was still within, he calmly pulled the door back after him, and bolted it from outside. Rattling noise of feet running away was heard soon after.

“He is running away! Follow him!!” Someone yelled. They tried the door, but found it bolted from the outside.

“He locked the door!” Someone lamented.

“Take the back door.” Old man Vasu suggested. He had recovered, and was on his feet now. In a flurry of activity, the mob, followed by Vasu himself, ran to the backside to the door. They filed out, and ran around the house towards the front. By the time, the man had vanished. They ran out to the road, yelling expletives, and imploring anyone out there to catch him.

Left alone inside, Sreejith pushed himself up with great effort. With unsteady feet, he sauntered towards room No 6. He steadied himself by holding the door frame, and entered it.

Moments later, he came out, holding a cell phone. Carefully, he wrapped it at the left corner of his lungi, and hid it at his waist.

“He is not going to come back for it” He told himself, with a smile.

*prakriti vidudham. Malayalam expression for homosexual act.

[Dileep]

Chapter 25

It was the multitude of coloured lamps on the top of the white scorpio that was visible through the gaps in the foliage that attracted Sreejith's attention. The snaky road that led to the old house passed right through a paddy field before climbing up again into the coconut groves. Looking out through the window of the upstairs room gave him a decent view of the road for some stretch. Keeping a watch-out was not in the minds of his cousin when giving him that room, but Sreejith did consider that when he moved the table close to the window.

He still was in pain. His left eye is almost swollen shut, with a bruise on the upper cheek. The split on the lips made it difficult even to sip tea. Most of the upper body had welts and bruises from the merciless thrashing he got from Guruvayoor.

He thanked goddess Saraswati for popping that perfect lie into his mouth at the right instant. Calling out rape against the assailant was a surefire way to instigate the mob against him. If he hadn't done that, he would have been accused of stealing by the opponent, and it would have been tough to get out of that.

Lucky that it worked. It was evident that the priority of that guy was to get away with his bundle. Probably he had some not so innocent stuff in that bundle. Maybe their laptop itself. Maybe some other stuff that is related to their clandestine activities were there too. Too bad he wasn't able to get hold of it.

But he got his phone!!

Sreejith was totally unprepared for the encounter. Those guys never showed up before late in the afternoon, so he was pretty confident to have the room all for himself. Even missing his bugged phone didn't make him think of something amiss. But now, in hindsight, maybe the encounter was intentional. Maybe they found the bugged phone, and was trying to find if someone does sneak into their room. He could do nothing, not even think of something, when the door was started being rattled violently.

Even though it was old wood, it took several minutes of pounding for one of the hinges to give way and the door to open. This gave Sreejith some time to recover from the freeze, and prepare, however inadequately be it, for the coming onslaught.

And come he did. He rushed in like a raging lion, and grabbed Sreejith by the collar of his shirt. He was almost bodily lifted and slammed onto the wall before he snarled “What are you doing here?” in a language that could be termed as hindi.

Sreejith wished he had some training of martial arts. Near their home there was, in fact a small school that taught what is claimed to be karate. A local guy ran it for the kids. Some of Sreejith's friends had joined there, but most dropped out soon enough. They wanted to fight from day 1, and was disappointed on the simple 'kata' they were being taught. Sreejith wanted to join, but his mother was adamantly against it. “It is dangerous!” she exclaimed. “You will have to break bricks with bare hands”. No amount of explanation, cajoling, or even satyagraha could budge the good woman. Saumya made fun of him on one side, and put all of her teenage weight behind her mother on the issue. He had threatened her that he would learn it 'ekalavya' style and beat her up. The bluff backfired, as she had reported it to mom, and Sreejith got an order stating the dojo being out of bounds, and the sensai being persona non-grata.

Sreejith left the idea, being utterly disappointed. It was only after seeing all his friends drop out, that he did recover from the depression.

He was not feeble by any count. He regularly used the gym at the workplace, and trained on weights. He was strong and healthy. Only that he lacked any training in fighting, and that did matter. Especially when apprehended by a cruel opponent. Sreejith did what came immediately to his mind, dazed from the choking. He kicked hard at the groins of the opponent.

With a grunt, the opponent dropped the grip, letting Sreejith fall to his feet. Taking advantage of it, Sreejith went at him, landing punch after punch on his body. It had some effect, as the man went a bit out of balance and fell backward. Before he knew what was happening, Sreejith fell after him, as he was expertly tackled by the falling man.

Sreejith tried to roll away, but before he could even move, the man was on top of him, and he felt excruciating pain as his left hand was turned to his back and pushed up. Instinctively, he turned his torso in the opposite direction, and kicked the legs of the man hard. Both of them fell down, entangled on each other. In the mess, Sreejith noticed that a phone fall out of the trouser pocket of his opponent. He was unaware of that, as he was trying to land a punch on Sreejith's face. Thankfully, Sreejith was able to block it. Sreejith immediately pulled the block away, letting the man fall onto his top. He held him close to prevent another punch, and in that recess, kicked the phone away to under the mess at the rear of the room.

In anger, the man spat square on the face of Sreejith. Instinctively, he left the grip, and turned his face away. The man pushed himself up, and Sreejith used the opportunity to crawl away on his back. As the man was rising, Sreejith could maneuver his right leg between them. He kicked hard, landing on the stomach of his opponent, simultaneously pushing him away, and letting him free.

In a scramble, Sreejith turned and ran, on all fours, out of the room. He had barely came out, when he was tackled again by the man down on the floor. A heavy punch landed on his cheek, making him pass out for a moment. The rest of the fight was all a blur, till it was broken up by the intervening mob.

When the man ran away, and the mob went after him, the first thought that occurred to Sreejith was to collapse down, giving it all up. Then he remembered the phone that was dropped by the man. He need to retrieve it, and it is likely to hold some information about the men. He should not let the other people know about it.

That reminded him. They may call the police. If they did, he is in deep trouble. He got to retrieve the phone, pack his stuff and leave. Sooner the better.

There was no point in staying at the shack anymore either. The men are not going to come back there. The only purpose he came back from Nemmara and continued there was to keep an eye on them. He could go back to his aunt's place.

At least they could suggest another hiding place for him.

He found his lungi that got undone in the fight, went into the room, retrieved the phone and hid it well in the folds. Blood was dripping from his lips. He went to the bathroom and washed the wounds and bruises, wincing by the excruciating pain. He had to tear another lungi and make a temporary dressing to stem the blood flow. Before he was done, old man Vasu and Syed Ali was back from their chase, obviously unsuccessfully.

“Oh, kiddo! Look at you!” Vasu lamented. “Did he hurt you a lot, son?” He asked, while checking out the injuries.

“What happened, buddy?” Syed Ali asked. Sreejith couldn't think of a coherent story immediately. He mumbled that he can't talk, making it apparent that the injury to his lips is hurting him a lot.

“Poor thing!” Said Vasu. “Leave him alone, Syed. He can't talk.”

“Shan't we inform the police?” Syed asked. Sreejith lost a heart beat. Vasu turned and looked at Syed.

“What is the use in that, Syed? What can they do? We will just end up paying bribes to them.” Vasu said in a disinterested tone. Old man Vasu was really scared of letting the police mess with his place. Most of the tenants there were shady characters, and his business being unlicensed and hence illegal made it a more unattractive proposition.

“In any case, we need to take him to a doctor” Syed Ali said, looking at the deep cut on Sreejith's lips. Vasu agreed to that, and urged Sreejith to heed to the advice.

“Wouldn't they suspect, and inform police?” Sreejith asked, forgetting that he was supposed to be incapable of speaking. No one noticed that anyway.

“That is OK. I will take you to the clinic. I know the doctor there.” Syed Ali volunteered. Sreejith agreed and together, they rode on Syed's motor bike to the clinic. Syed left him there, promising to come back later.

Once the wound was sutured and the bruises dressed, Sreejith left, not waiting for Syed. He said a silent thanks to those good men. He still could not walk well, so he took an autorickshaw to go to the bus stand.

When the auto crossed the east gate, he made it stop there, and prayed, still sitting in the vehicle.

He took the next bus out to Vadakkancherry. He wanted to reach Nemmara the earliest.

[Dileep]

BTW, the martial arts reference is inspired by hNairgolis gurukkal.

[chackojoseph]

Dileep,

the names like vadakancherry. You could add a bit of how to pronounce it and what it means. this is tough for non Keralites.

BTW, everybody is getting diwali bonus. Hope you take an hint

[kmkraoind]

Wow Dileep garu, amazing imagination and narration. Remembers me a Telugu pocket book writer called Madhubabu who writes popular book series in the name of Shadow.

[Dileep]

Chapter 26

The scorpio drove across the paddy field at a speed faster than what is normally done by the vehicles on that dirt road. It was hardly wide enough for a truck, unpaved, with the surface of red laterite soil compacted into two grooves by the wheels of passing vehicles. The space between the grooves is covered by a kind of wild grass that covered even the most arid soil with a brown carpet. It was tough to drive a car on those roads. The SUV would fare better, and that did show in the way the car negotiated the track. Its engine noise came drifting in the calm moist air hanging on like a wet blanket over the afternoon. The signal lamps mounted on the roof was not powered on, but there was no mistaking in the attitude the vehicle posed.

Sreejith sprang up from the chair, and craned his head over the window to get a better view. There was no doubt. It was a marked police car.

Most probably coming for him.

He knew that his aunt's house can never be a safe house for him. It was not a question of if, but when, the NIA decided to check out that place. But his aunt, who had gone aghast at the injuries sustained by him during the fight, would hear nothing of him leaving the place. He must stay there till his wounds are healed. She had decreed in her usual solid way.

No one could question that. The fact of the matter was, she wasn't really aware of the magnitude of trouble that Sreejith was in, and there was no way she could be briefed either. Finally. Nandan, who was the man of the house, decided to give it another day, before sending off Sreejith somewhere else.

And still, poor Nandan had no idea where that somewhere could be. He cursed himself, and all his relatives for ending up in such a dilemma. He didn't really want any part of it. If the police is looking for Sreejith, let him figure a way to deal with it. Why he is bothering him? If the police picks him up at his house, he too might be implicated. Sumitra had spent almost an hour of the previous night, whining and cajoling, as well as describing in gory detail, all the troubles they are going to have if Sreejith is apprehended from their house. She even threatened to go to her fathers place, since she had no intention to get harassed by the police.

That pre-empted the seed of an idea Nandan had. He had considered sending Sreejith off to an uncle of Sumitra who lived at Wynad. Now he need to think of something else. He tried to get the help of Venu, his elder brother, but hit a tactical brick wall there. He cursed him in his mind and got back, brooding.

Sreejith had got wind of the troubles in the family, and wanted to move right away. But he was still weak, he was a bit sick, and the whole body ached. Still, it was with half a heart that he decided to stay another day there. It was Hobson's choice. To take advantage of the situation, he had decided to do some analysis on the data he had collected. Being confined to a room had its advantages.

Soon, the scorpio crossed the threshold of the field and disappeared into the coconut grove. The road here is a good six feet below the level of the coconut groves. It slowly climbs to the level, going away and around to avoid a a small raise of land before arriving to a branch road that led to Bhavani Amma's house. Sreejith cocked his ears to listen to the engine noise to see where it goes.

It stopped in the coconut grove. His heart sank. They definitely are coming for him.

Instantly, he sprang into action. He hit save and held down the power switch of the laptop to turn it off. Frantically, he threw the lungi away and pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt. While buttoning them up, he cast glance out of the window towards the narrow road that led to the house. He could see three men walking down. One was wearing the khaki uniform, and the peaked cap of a police inspector was clearly visible over the hedge. He was flanked by another man in civilian clothes. A police constable was walking a few feet behind them, indicated by the band on his cap.

His heart racing, and sweat dripping profusely from his brow, Sreejith frantically looked around the room. There was no time to pack the bag. Those guys are in fact coming for him, and they will be there in less than a minute.

He opened the drawer, grabbed the wallet and stuffed it in the pocket. He then grabbed the two cell phone that was lying on the table, with cables hooking them up to the laptop. One was his own phone, and the other one was the one he grabbed during the fight at Guruvayoor. He quickly disconnected the cables from the laptop, bundling them together and threw them in the drawer. He folded the laptop, and lifted it up with the intention of carrying it off.

“No way I can carry it!” The realization made him disappointed. He let out an expletive and smashed his hand on the table, and cringed in pain.

The men had disappeared around the corner of the alley. In a few seconds, they will cross the gatehouse and enter the courtyard. He should act fast.

Sreejith briskly walked out of the room, and walked towards the door that opened to the terrace. He closed and bolted the door behind him. He then ran towards the half wall at the other end, and deftly stepped across it to reach the parapet outside.

Behind him , he heard the shutter of the gate house creak open.

[Dileep]

Chapter 27

Sreejith scrambled like a lizard being on the run, using the foothold of the half a foot of concrete that projects out, and holding on to the the half wall of the terrace for support. He swiftly, but carefully, lowered himself onto the sunshade below. A fifteen feet section of the narrow concrete slab led him near to the trunk of the coconut tree, and the four foot high stone retaining wall around its base. The land sharply rose there, and the yard of the house was created by cutting a face on the rise. The grand old coconut tree was spared, and its base was protected by building a semi circular retaining wall made of stone boulders. The barn*, that used to house several cows and oxen in the past, stood a few feet beyond the coconut tree. It was devoid of occupants these days, and it used for storing assorted things like coconuts, firewood, and old agricultural implements. Sreejith leaned out, held onto the coconut trunk and slid down, safely reaching the base. The slatted door of the barn was open. He held his frame low and scurried in. Dodging the bunch of rubbish and the pile of coconuts inside, he reached the other end where the firewood is stacked. A skink got scared of him and skittered away. The stack of firewood was kept a foot away from the back wall, offering him a place to hide. Temporarily hidden from the view from outside, he crept in there, catching his breath and considering the next course of action.

He hadn't given it too much of a thought before darting out of the room. All he had in mind, and was driving him, was the urge not to get caught. Everything else came secondary. If the men approaching the house, including two uniformed police officers, had indeed came looking for him, he was pretty sure that it would be a tough call to escape them. He would have the head start of just a few minutes that would take them to talk to his cousin and gain access to the house. Conceivably, they are not going to come in like a SWAT team, guns blazing. They will have to at least introduce themselves and demand to search the house. But once they come upstairs and find the nest empty, they are going to look around the house and in the yard for him. They will be out in full search mode.

He can't stay there at the barn.

When they were kids, Saumya and him, and sometimes the elder cousins, used to roam around the whole area almost all the time. He had climbed pretty much every tree, ate every edible fruit the land produced, and reached every nook and cranny of the geography. He had a pretty good idea on the lay of the land. He knew all the trails and pathways. He even personally knew most of the trees. It might be possible to dodge the pursuers. They may not be familiar to the locality as he was, and that would him an advantage.

At least he hoped so.

The barn seemed to be a totally inappropriate place to hide. It wouldn't take a Sherlock Holmes to figure that it could be a hiding place. Probably, it would the first place to be checked, right after the house itself. He need to get out and away. As fast as possible.

The back door of the barn was missing. This door is used to be the one to take the cattle out, and also to remove the waste matter into the dung pit. He grabbed a thick stick he found lying around. It was an inch and a half in diameter and five feet long, made of hard wood. It used to be a part of the plough, discarded after it was broken. He took a careful scan around, especially towards either side of the house to make sure that he was not being watched, and tiptoed out of the back door. He carefully walked around the dung pit, which was dry and almost filled up by dirt. He hit the foot trail that led to the rice fields just beyond the dung pit.

The grounds of Bhavani Amma used to extend all the way to the vast stock of paddy fields to the east. The land slanted down in steps towards the fields, and the last step, a few feet above the level of the wetlands of the paddy fields, was used for cultivation of plantain and various vegetables that needed regular watering. A narrow stream, hardly six feet across, ran at the edge of this plateau, separating it from the paddy fields. These types of streams are always present at the edges of paddy fields. They drained the excess water from the fields, and took it via a tree structure of bigger streams into rivers. Ponds are often dug near them, and water lifted to irrigate the higher lands lying close to the paddy fields. Fishing in these streams and the ponds used to be a major time pass for the children in olden days. What they managed to catch were small ones, which were not enough to cook. They did it for fun. They often kept the fishes live in a glass bottle, but the lack of aeration killed them almost certainly. But sometimes the grownups prowled these streams, armed with bamboo baskets, and machetes, looking for the bigger species like mudfish and catfish.

Sreejith approached the lower plateau, and found that a new fence is erected over the retaining wall that separated it from the upper level. He was surprised by that. The whole land, all the way to the paddy field, belonged to Bhavani Amma, and there was no need for fences within. He realized that part of the land was recently sold by them. It made sense too. None of his cousins were really interested, or even capable of running the cultivation of the lands. He stood there hesitating, near the fence, considering what to do.

As he looked around, he noticed the pump house adjacent to the pond flanking the paddy fields. It belonged to Bhavani Amma in the past, but now it is part of the land that had been sold and fenced off. This pump house and the pond held a lot of memories for him. It used to house a diesel pumpset when he was a kid. This was before electricity reached the village and the electric pump was installed. It was during the summer, coinciding to the time when he and Saumya got opportunity to spend their school break there, that the pump came to use. There used to be big blocks of vegetables that needed irrigation. This is done by digging tiny canals around the land, and switching the flow of water by opening and closing the channels by shoveling the dirt. They used to wander around there, pretending to help the farm hands in switching the water to the various blocks of crops. Once, while playing hide and seek, he even hid under the roof of the pumphouse, and got a good amount of scolding from his aunt, who had called a frantic search for the missing child.

That is it! He smiled to himself. The pump house was built of bricks, and its roof was a concrete slab. A tank was built over the slab by continuing the brick wall further up. A roof made of asbestos sheet was installed on top of the tank. A casual look will not reveal that there is a tank on the top. A man can safely hide inside that tank, without being seen from outside. He was not sure about the condition of the tank or its roof, but it was worth a try.

The fence was not too high. It was there more of a demarcation of the boundary, than a barrier. He easily stepped across it. He considered jumping down immediately, but held back. There was underbrush growing on the ground below. It is not a good idea to leave a clear track for his pursuers. He carefully stepped back over the fence to the clear trail where he came from, and looked around for another dry trail to reach the plateau below.

He had to retrace his steps a bit, but finally, he was able to find a way to get down, without making a trail. He walked towards the pumphouse, often having to leap over the bushes, and stepping across thornbeds. Finally, he reached the pumphouse and stood looking into the clear blue water in the pond below.

A breadfruit tree stood near the pumphouse. A branch grew horizontally over the water. The kids used to walk out over it, and use it as a platform to do high diving into the water below. Sreejith used to be scared of it, till one day Nandan took hold of him forcefully, dragged him up the tree and dropped him from the branch into the water. That had permanently cured him of the fear. But Saumya was always afraid, and complained to their parents that Sreejith is doing all kinds of dangerous things.

The water in the pond was so clear and inviting. He could clearly see the bottom of the pond. A couple of mud fishes swam around lazily in the water, looking for any unlucky insect to fall onto the water. If it was some other occasion, he would have readily taken a dip there.

He turned and looked back from where he came. There was no movement, or sound coming from the direction of the house. Slowly, he climbed up the breadfruit tree to the first fork. From there, he held onto the small branch that went towards the pumphouse and hung on it with both hands. He extended his feet to find the edge of the roof. With great effort, he moved himself to stand on the roof. The old asbestos sheet was more or less intact, but the rafters were not in a good shape. Hew could not support his weight on them. He moved his feet to the thick iron pipe that went out from the pump. Supporting his weight on that, he slowly crawled under the roof, into the empty tank just below it.

He could not sit upright, or stretch fully. All he could do was to lie down in a fetal position. That way, no one would see him, unless they climbed up and look over the wall.

The floor was full of dirt. He could not risk disturbing it and leaving a trace. He was too tired from the excitement of the past few minutes. He just lied down there, trying to catch up with his breath, and his thoughts.

*barn is not exactly the word for the 'thozhuthu' of the kerala houses. Neither is cowshed.

[Dileep]

That is Deepavali and Kaveri Bonus. Enjoy!

[Rahul M]

thank you ! I was missing my fix !

[chackojoseph]

Thanks for the extra padakam Dileep cheta. Need More need More need more!

[Dileep]

Chapter 28

The crystal clear water of the stream giggled as it broke into a million glassy beads falling off the face of the jet black rock. The cascade could not be called a waterfall. It was too small. But the surroundings, complete with the trees, dense undergrowth, and the basalt rocks gave the niche of the jungle a pleasing, almost homely quality. At the bottom, where the water formed a pool, small fish swam in place against the current, trying to filter out the tiny bits of food. A group of water strider bugs continued to do their figure skating dance on the calm surface. A kingfisher, proudly showing off the colourful plume of feathers, waited on the branch of a tree for any of those unlucky fish to come to the top.

Sreejith appeared from behind one of the bushes. He was visibly limping. The jeans was torn below his right knee, and it was stained with blood. His shirt was all soiled, and torn at a couple of places. With the unmistakable lust of life throbbing into his body, he rushed to the water's edge. He knelt on the rock, and collected handfuls after handfuls of the sweet natural spring water and gulped it down . After the searing edge of the thirst was blunted, he slowed down, washed his face and hands, and sat down at a comfortable position near the edge of the water. He then proceeded to carefully inspect the injury on his calf.

He hadn't eaten or had a drink since lunch yesterday. After making a hasty exit from his aunt's house, he hid in the pump house the entire afternoon. It was a terribly uncomfortable ordeal. IT was so cramped, that he had to curl up in a foetal position. He arranged himself in such a way that he could see a portion of the road that go across the paddy field, and he watched it to see if the scorpio that brought the police is going back. There was nothing else to do. He could not get out before they left the place, and the coast is clear. However, even after what seemed like several hours, there was no sign of the car returning. He wondered what was going on at the house. Are the family being interrogated? Are they being subjected to harassment? There was already an element of resentment with Nandan and Sumitra about his presence there, and any misbehavior by the police is going to be a big problem for him.

Suddenly, he gasped as he heard voices coming from the direction of the house. Soon, footsteps were heard in the distance. Someone jumped down the retaining wall with a thud and an expletive. Footsteps walked around the yard, while talking in low voices incomprehensible to him. He held his breath, and ducked his head down, trying to hug the floor closely to avoid being seen. As he did that, he lost the spatial sense of sound, and the footsteps and noises seemed to come from all over the place. He could no longer say where, or how close they are.

He waited there, with baited breath, ready to be discovered, while praying not to be.

He heard the footsteps becoming louder. Someone was approaching the pumphouse. He came real close to the shack, and leaned on the very same pipe that he had stepped upon to get in his hiding place. Sreejith could hear the heavy breating, and the stink of cigarette. He held his breath and counted the seconds. Sweat rolled freely from his face, and dripped onto the floor, and vanishing into the dust. He almost jumped up when someone rattled the creaky old door to the pumphouse. He heard someone commanding to open it, and then the thuds of the lock being smashed open. The door opened, and after a few seconds, he heard someone yell “No one is here” back to someone afar. Footsteps heard shuffling around for some time, and he heard something, maybe a stone, being plunked into the pond. Then, just as they came, the footsteps went away and vanished altogether from earshot. Sreejith let out a sigh of relief, but did not dare to lift up his head and take a peek.

He waited a long time, straining his ears for any noise. He thanked his instincts that prompted to keep himself down, when he heard another pair of feet came close by before going away. He kept his head down, depending upon his hearing to do the watch.

As far as he could tell, he scorpio still had not left the place, even after the darkness fell. Once he felt that he could not see his own feet, he got the courage to raise his head and look out. It was not yet completely dark outside, but it was safe to look out. The car had not left still. He waited there, watching the grey of the twilight give way to the black of the night. Lamps started to appear at the odd residences beyond, and he could no longer see over the paddy field. Finally, the sound that appeared like the diesel mill of the scorpio appeared, and he watched the tail lamps of the car vanish over the hillock on the other side of the field. He let out a sigh of relief, but decided to wait a little more before getting out. He needed to plan what to do after that anyway.

He did not consider going back to the house to be a good idea. It is no longer safe, and given the long time the police had spent there, he had no misgivings about the reception he was going to receive there. No, he was on his own again, at least for a while. The first priority is to get out safely, and the second one is to call Vijay for updates.

He had lost the sense of time. He had not carried his watch, and he did not dare to turn on his phone. But it should have been well into the night when he finally decided to get out of the hiding place. It took some effort, as his legs had gone limp under him. With great effort, he managed to turn hmself on his back, and free the limp legs. Little, by little, he felt the blood flow find its way to the drained capillaries, filling the starved cells with oxygen and energy. Each of the nerve endings reported an explosion when it got the fresh dose of oxygen, and the brain recorded it like a pin prick. He bit his teeth hard, as the sensation of the thousand pin pricks traveled down his legs. After the first wave of the pin pricks was over, the muscle fibers started triggering uncontrollably, resulting in a shivering sensation. It took a long time to get his own legs to obey the commands from the brain. He turned on his front again, and started crawling out.

Coming to the edge of the paddy field, he stopped to get his bearings. He knew the place reasonably well. A short walk of half a kilometre on the bund would bring him to the road. Turn left, and another kilometre walk would bring him to the populated area. Given the situation, he didn't think it to be wise to pass via that route. If he cross the road and continue on the bund, there is a rubber plantation at the other end, with a narrow trail going around it leading to another road that would take him to the town. It was a risky walk.Snakes, virulently venomous ones, were common in the area. He himself had seen plenty of them there. But those facts did not register in his mind. Getting away from his pursuers were his top priority.

With a sigh, he took the bund.

It took him almost two hours to reach the rubber plantation. He was dead tired from all the excitement and the long walk. The stream here was wider, as it joined with another one. You cross the stream to reach a flight of steps built of basalt rock that led to the trail that go around the plantation. This was and open area where the village folk came to wash their clothes and take a dip. Without waiting even to check the floor, he sat on one of the steps, and leaned his back against the wall. The quarter moon had risen, giving a bit of light around. The sky had only a few striated clouds that did not hamper the moon light. The paddy field shone in an ethereal gray, like a black and white picture. The plantation stood like a mound of darkness at the edge. The trail, though under the thick foliage, was somewhat visible. He could see enough to hike. He decided to take a brief rest before he started on it.

Before knowing it, he fell asleep there.

[chackojoseph]

Going to town? Wouldn't it be risky?

[Dileep]

Chapter 29

When he woke up, the moon was almost overhead, meaning it was past three or so in the morning. He should keep going now. He need to cross the plantation before the tappers arrived. His body resisted even the thought of moving. Pain embraced him all over, so that all the body seemed to be one block of pain. With great effort, he pulled himself up, and started walking up the trail.

The trail was in fact the gap between two parcels of land. One was the rubber plantation, and the other was vacant, with some trees and thick undergrowth, making it almost like a jungle. The trail led all the way to the end of the parcels, meeting with the forest land owned by the government. Sreejith had been there a few times when he was younger. A couple of times he and some friends had hiked the trails in the forest, right across the forest to reach the main road going to Nelliampathi. It was a fun thing to do for a teenager on idle days, especially when his sister was busy with the womenfolk. In fact he had gotten into trouble with his family for doing such rash acts. But right now, getting to the main road un noticed seemed to be the only choice he had.

From the moment he came in as a fugitive, he was convinced that the place had a serious defect, that there is only one way out, which is the dirt road going to the village, where it joins the paved road that a few buses ply on. It was a choke hold, and he was sure of that fact that it would be watched. Even otherwise, it was easy to get information on the passers by from the villagers who have an affinity to gossip, and not much else to do. The alternate, other than blindly walking the uncharted network of trails, is to take the known trail leading to the main road beyond the forest. From there, he could flag down a bus, or even hitchhike to the safety of the crowd in the town.

It took him half an hour to reach the end of the rubber plantation. The open trail ended there. There was an opening in the wall and a bamboo gate that led to the thatched shed inside the plantation, where the necessities like equipment and fertilizers were stored. It was where he first observed the latex being processed into sheets, and enabled him to build a cricket ball out of rags impregnated with the latex. Straight ahead is the mouth of the trail that led into the innards of the forest, and across it to the main road. This trail is used by the villagers who lived near the plantation as a shortcut, since the jeep trail went a lot roundabout. In the darkness, it looked like the mouth of a fierce animal who wanted to swallow him. He felt a shiver go down his spine, that moved his resolve a bit. He was no longer sure if it is a good idea to walk into that jungle in the night. Undecided, he stood there for a moment. Then, as his legs seemed to give way, he sat down, resting his back against the gate of the plantation.

Even in the dazed state, he noticed the light of a lamp moving far away, at the edge of the paddy field down below. That roused him. The tappers are coming to start their work in the early hours. They will be first coming to the shed to pick up their equipment. He can not stay there. He need to move. He doubled his resolve and walked into the open, inviting mouth of the forest trail.

The forest was not particularly dense, and it didn't house any big animals. Small mammals like squirrel, mongoose and rabbits inhabited it, and carnivores like wild cat and fox were not rare. The bigger threat were snakes and other venomous creatures like scorpions. Sreejith's mind had blocked them out, as he continued to stagger up the trail. The canopy of the trees were not really formidable, but the week rays of the moon didn't find much chance to filter through. His eyes being accustomed to the darkness, they offered some visibility that felt like a dream that you could only vaguely remember. It felt like sleepwalking, and a couple of times he had to shake himself to make sure that he was awake.

It took him some time to register that he lost the way. According to his memory, it only took an hour and a half to hike across the forest to reach the road. He had lost the sense of time, but it is already twilight, and there is no indication of the road. He found that he had reached a small area at the top of a hillock, which is devoid of trees. It was interspersed with rocks, and only grass grew in the clearings among them. He was sure of not seeing that place before during his hikes. The thought that he might have lost the way sent a wave of desperation throughout his body, and all little energy he had was instantly drained. He felt that he could not stand, and he limped to a small clearing in the grass and collapsed there.

It was then, the direness of his situation, and the foolishness of his action caught up with him. He hadn't really thought through the consequence of his actions. Now, in hindsight, it seemed like a terrible idea to hike across a forest at night. He was driven by the focused urge to get away from his pursuers, that he forgot how much more dangerous is the path he had taken.

He had been a fan of survival stories. He had watched every episode of the shows like Man Vs The Wild and Survivorman. He had even imagined himself in those situations, mentally working out ways in which he would work and get out of the remote places. But he had never thought that he would really end up in such a situation. He had sometimes even longed for such an opportunity, but here is that wish granted, in the most inappropriate and inopportune way.

It could not be that bad. He is only at the periphery of the wilderness. As he roughly knew the lay of the land, all around the sliver of forest land, except the southeast, were inhabited villages. It was hardly a few kilometres wide, so he should be able to find his way and get out soon. If he stuck to his wits and acted carefully.

That thought filled him with some energy. He was feeling hungry and thirsty, but that was not too bad. Since it is already daybreak, he could find his way around better. Maybe he can find some wild fruits to eat. At least he can find a stream to drink from. Finding water was the first priority, as he remembered the words of Bear Grylls.

One highlight of his show was, Bear Grylls eating something that was really gross as a matter of survival. This included live snakes, insects, rotten meat from a dead carcass etc. This always created a problem when he watched the show. Others thought it is so gross, that Sreejith should be some kind of freak to watch another freak doing all those gross things on screen. Saumya would always run away to the kitchen the moment the show comes on, and turn on the small radio there to block out even the sound track. Once, when a snake was caught and killed from their place, she jokingly dared Sreejith to eat it raw. Sreejith couldn't imagine himself doing what Bear does. Eating a fish or a rabbit, of course well cooked, is OK, but he was not willing to eat, for example, a snake or an insect.

Sreejith collected himself up, and took a look around. He was standing at the summit of a hillock, and the way he came up gently sloped down. He decided to retrace his steps back down. With some luck, he would be able to pick up the correct trail to get him out of the jungle. In any case, the standard advice for survivors is to go downhill, because thereby is the way to find water.

The trek down was much difficult than up. One of his knees were still weak from the thrashing he got a few days ago, and it hurt a lot when he put his weight on it. He had to hold on to saplings and branches to steady himself. As he struggled down, he tripped on a root and fell.

He tumbled a few times, trying to get hold of something that could arrest the fall. He grabbed something, which turned out to be a thorny bush, and his palms got deeply scratched. In the agony, he had to let go.. He felt something snag his jeans. With a loud noise, the thick fabric tore, and searing pain streaked up from his calf, as something sharp dug into the muscle, knocking him unconscious.

[Dileep]

Chacko, the best way to describe my writing process is, like taking 2D snapshots of an animated 3D model. Optical illusions do happen. Sometimes the necessary details may not get exposure.

I edited the next chapter to clarify things a bit. Hope it is satisfactory. Questions such as this, adds great value in refining both the snapshot and the source model. Thank you very much.

[chackojoseph]

Some more issues with the story.

The female. Muslim lady + head scarf + jeans = normal modern muslim lady. I can't see what makes her a rebel in that outfit.

The Perfume: its attar. You can mix match attar which is commonly done by a lot of Muslim women. The smell is always overpowering without to sniff the neck.

You mention bamboo gate. It would have been more of coconut wood which is most commonly used.

[Klaus]

Dileep sir has mentioned that Jasmine started wearing the headscarf after the Sulaiman incident. The character is a work in progress, her outgoing, aggressive nature has been outlined even though there have been no angry outbursts from her so far. Perhaps the author may explore other facets of her persona as I feel that this character has the most potential of all female characters developed on BR so far. She has already surpassed Lilya from Sankuji's Dance of the Flamingo (in terms of character depth) and now looks set to go further.

While Jasmine could be called a vamp in a certain sense, she does not fulfill all the conditions in the same way that Meiji Takhom (from SS 1) did. This one also has a fierce sense of independence and respect of privacy (and personal space).

Sankuji, no offense to you whatsoever. I perfectly understand Lilya's purpose in that story and in a way I am being unfair by comparing the two characters.

[Dileep]

Chacko, I haven't yet seen a leggings+hijab combination yet, but that is not the point. All the women I know, wear it because the fundoo men of their family direct/force them to. Here, she does it as a protest to her dad. Just a layer of the personality.

The perfume is not attar. Would you expect a girl who painstakingly do matching chikan kari on her top and the hijab, would be satisfied with just mixing the attar? That too, is a layer.

Human nose develops resistance to olefactory inputs. You will completely lose the sense of a smell after being exposed to it for some time. Here, the man was exposed to it for a very long time, so the primary sense was gone. Remember the 'saamudrika' chapter on body odour to figure what is going on.

Coconut wood is not used at the foothills. The gate was a 'kaTampa', which is made of the big hard bamboo called 'illi muLa'.

When you stack up the layers, please do not forget the title of the story, and where it all begun. Please remember what the old, frail eyes foresaw. Jasmine Basheer never had a horoscope, but it would be interesting to read if it did exist.

Let me also tease you with a tidbit. I got some inspiration from certain (group of) characters from Kulapati Munshi's Krishna series.

[chackojoseph]

Dileep,

Let me rephrase this

Muslim women wear modern cloth without headgear, they wear pants with head gear and they wear Burkha. There is nothing on the defiance or revolutionary. It depends on the society you live in and the personal preference.

I am not an expert here, but, if she wishes to mix and match perfumes, its ok. Normally, the once I have known either have attar concoction or branded one.

If the scent perception had gone, then even sniffing neck will not work. Unless the hero is also into perfumes and he can recoganise one from another.

Yes, the bigger bamboo is used. I haven't argued on it. I only said that if you would have said coconut or rubber wood, it would look very authentic. The bamboo is used globally. But, as I said that if you chose to use it its well.


Kulapati Munshi's Krishna series: I am illiterate.

[Rahul M]

>> If the scent perception had gone, then even sniffing neck will not work. Unless the hero is also into perfumes and he can recoganise one from another.

chacko sahab, that's not correct. a perfume has more than one layer of fragrance (called top note, middle notes etc) and with time different notes are evident. even a layman can see that a perfume smells different after sometime.

[chackojoseph]

Fine,

Possible. But, as I know, perception, for ex, taste buds, once it goes, you don't know taste. Everything is tasteless. I am talking excessive conditions. Scent too is.

I am not trying to argue. Just put in an example, if your radio antenna (receptor) is dead , it won't catch anything.

Also, if the signals are coming from multiple ways, then even a good antenna is not without interference.

Both the ways, it depends on the accepting sensor.

Especially, I have been living in Arab country and have been in exact similar situation like the hero (I mean I did not smell the neck, the perfume part and I am no programmer or computer technician).