Bharat Rakshak

The title is Mirror to the past.

As its a mirror one will see what they want to see.

Klaus wrote:^^^ With C.G Nambiar (the protagonist) being the "Iron Man of India"?

C.G. Nambiar would be a IB sleuth who cracked the conspiracy of PM's son who died in the air crash. I don't think he can be the Iron man of India, as 'Sardar' died atleast 20 years before the air crash

^^^ With C.G Nambiar (the protagonist) being the "Iron Man of India"?

The story's royal characters story do bear striking resemblance to the ones that ruled India, the PM's son dying in an air crash, the PM getting killed by her guards, and a son who never wanted to be the PM.

brilliant as usual dileep saar..

Lakshmi Sharma or Lakshmi Amma meeting with a "bad death" makes almost complete sense now. Are Vanchinathan (IPS) and Vaidyanathan Iyer the same person- most likely!

Vanchinathan and the old pharmacist have most likely been keeping watch over Anil Nambiar during this investigation.

Dileep sir, there is a heavy cloud of suspense hanging around the story all the time (otherwise it wouldnt be called Spy Story), it has definitely done wonders for the quality and flow. However, I am hard-pressed trying to imagine a parrot screaming "Govinda, Govinda!"

Must be a very skilled bird, have heard them uttering words such as "come here", "cricket", "hello", "rascal" etc but this would be an exceptional and very choosy specimen. Looks like it wanted its freedom more than chilly or grains!

A hurried ending but a satisfying one. It was a thoroughly enjoyable read and I'm now waiting for the next one whenever it comes.

Thanks.

Wow!!

aaw! after so great a buildup, it ends in cupola post.
Thanks a Ton you took the time and trouble to entertain us for free.

There you have it folks! Had to wrap it up, mostly because of work pressure. Thanks for all the encouragements.

EPILOGUE

The bespectacled figure of Dr. O. P. Malhotra sat behind the table. He looked over the young man sitting in front of him, and his eyes went back to the binder kept open in his hands. Anil Nambiar sat in front of him, a little bit nervous.

“So, I understand that you failed IPS?” Dr. Malhotra asked.

“Yes, Sir. I qualified everything, but failed in medical” Anil said, with clear regret in his voice.

“Medical? What was the problem” Malhotra asked casually.

“I am congenitally colour-blind, sir” Anil said. Dr. Malhotra quickly turned some pages in the binder and carefully read out of a page. Wrinkles appeared on his forehead. Anil's heart sank.

“Do you have problem in reading traffic lights? Malhotra asked.

“No, sir. I never knew I had the defect. If I knew, I wouldn't have taken the trouble for IPS.”

“Well, after that, you joined a course on mass communication. Why?”

“I wanted to be an investigative journalist, Sir.” Anil answered honestly.

And the talk proceeded to the subject of Investigative journalism, in which Anil participated actively. He knew that the job offer to which he is interviewing involved precisely that. He liked that side of the job, and was excited to get an opportunity to work the political circles of Delhi, which he was doing for a long time on a personal agenda.

“I understand that you had been conducting some investigation on your own for some time. Something of a personal nature.” Dr. Malhotra said, without no forewarning.

Anil was dumbstruck. A chill crept up from his toes. Beads of sweat started appearing on his forehead. He didn't get anything to say. Malhotra ignored the discomfort he caused.

“It is a noble, and commendable mission, and you have made good progress on that. But I am afraid that it is no longer useful or necessary. It is time you move on into better things in life.”

Anil had recovered from his initial shock, and the comments arose his anger. He suspected that this high ranking officer is part of the forces that he was trying to battle against.

“I don't know what you are talking about!” Anil said, carefully planning his plan of action.

“Son, no need to panic. Your father, C. G. Nambiar was a well respected officer. He laid his life down for the country, and we at the agencies are proud of him.” Malhotra said, looking intently at the blazing eyes of the young man.

Anil did not respond.

“What I am saying is that your quest has become obsolete. The perpetrators whom you seek are no more. Justice has already reached them, and your work had helped for that.”

“Justice? How?” Anil could not resist asking. Somehow, something told him that this man is telling the truth.

“All of them are dead, son! Dead in different ways. You yourself have learned that, didn't you?”

Malhotra then started tracing some of the trails that Anil had painstakingly uncovered. Path, after path, source after source, it was scary how much the man knew. He could clearly see a pattern where those suspects died mysteriously. The revelation gave him the dual feeling of immense satisfaction, and immense fear. If someone knew in minute detail what he was doing, it was surprising that he was still alive. Some one way beyond his understanding was indeed protecting him.

“How did they all die, Sir?” Anil asked, with immense respect for the man in front of him.

“Now, son, you are in forbidden territory. All you need to realize is that your job is done. You served your father right, and thereby your country as well.” Malhotra said, beaming the young man.

“So, what should I do now?” Anil asked, suddenly realizing what this interview is all about. He should have guessed that, when Vanchinathan IPS gave him the reference.

“You follow the footsteps of your father, son. You join me, to serve the country.” Malhotra said.

Anil stood up, walked around the table and touched the feet of the man. Dr. Malhotra stood up and held him in an embrace.

“Welcome home, son. You belong here.” Malhotra said, as he shook the trembling hand of Anil Nambiar.

END.

Govindan Nambiar sat upright on the mat. A small pile of palm leaves lied to his right. A stack of leaves, neatly arranged, and tied with thread, lay to his left. He was holding the wooden binding of a new stack, which had several leaves already stacked up. He held the stylus in his hand, lost in thought. The small lamp, with one wick and burning coconut oil was not really enough to drive the darkness away.

“Ezhuthassan, didn't you sleep yet?” the voice of old man Warrier awoke him from his thoughts. Govindan turned the door. The stooping old figure of Sankara Warrier stood at the frame.

“You are forgetting everything, Ezhuthassan, when you get into writing poetry.” Warrier said with an appreciating smile. “Too bad I can't read, or understand sanskrit, to enjoy your creations. But I am sure they are great.”

“Lots of people may not understand what I write, Warrier. But there will be a time when someone would figure it all out.”

“No doubt about it. A lot of poets never got any appreciation in their time, but became big names long after they were dead.”

Govindan sighed.

“Well, I am not disturbing you anymore. I am too old to stay awake. The priest and other servants have left already. It is too warm! I am sleeping at the front porth.” Warrier said as he was leaving. Govindan heard the old man call “Thriprangottappaa..” as he stretched the ageing back on the mat.

He went back to his thoughts for a moment. Then he started writing on the palm leaf placed on the binder.

“I am going to place everything I found at the esteemed feet of the majesty. I have no other choice. My only regret is that I couldn't get the principal witness. I really doubt if my words are going to have any effect on the royal resolve. The conspirators are all around the majesty, and I am alone. It is my words against theirs.

I am not sure whether I will come back alive from the palace after the audience. If I don't, all I have to say to my family is that I served my country, honestly and bravely as a man could. I can't say I did the same to my family. I might have defaulted in the roles of a father and a husband, and I apologize for the same.”

****************

The diary ended there. Anil Nambiar read the last paragraph again and again. Tears streamed from his eyes rolling down his cheeks. He sobbed silently, and pushed the diary away so that the pages didn't get wet.

“You were a great man, father!! I am proud to be your son!” He whispered. He then closed his eyes, reverently touched the diary with both hands, and pressed the hands on his foreheads and then his eyes.

A gentle breeze, untimely for the Delhi summer, came in through the window and encircled him. The sound of a conch shell, signalling the dawning of a new day, crept up from the temple at a distance.

The END.

The two fortune tellers walked along the trail. One of them, the man in front, was walking with some distress and a very prominent limp on his right leg. Both wore soiled saffron clothes and tall matted locks of hair. Holy ash was liberally smeared on their foreheads and even the rest of the face. Both carried a bundle and stick each. The man in the rear also carried a small cage, in which a small parrot was held captive. It was turning to noon, and the sun was shining mercilessly. The men sweated profusely, and cursed the heat. The poor bird who did not like the journey even a bit was loudly complaining, calling out “Govinda! Govinda”. The man carrying it stopped, took a small packet from his bundle and fed the bird. It refused the grains and still cursed the man with the same “Govinda! Govinda”

The limping man also stopped and waited for his follower to reach him. He heavily leaned on his left leg and supported the weight on the stick.

“Do you want to stop and take a rest?” The man carrying the parrot asked.

“No. I want to reach the Kadakkal house before lunch time.” The man said. He immediately started walking, even though he was visibly under duress. The other one followed.

“Are you sure about this, Ramunni? Can you trust the folk at Kadakkal?” The man with the parrot asked, in a hushed voice.

“I would trust my Kunjikaali with my life, Govindan!” Ramunni Menon said with a sigh. “I hadn't done justice to her either, just like to my country. I won't get rest in the afterlife if I don't redeem either.”

“I am not feeling real comfortable, Ramunni. Kadakkal house will be among the first ones Thinayancheri and folks would look for you.” Govindan Nambiar said, speeding up to come abreast of his prisoner.

“Let them be. I am going to stay in character, and disclose my identity only to Kunjikaali. In any case, Nediyirippu will not get me alive.” Ramunni Menon said with some agitation.

“That is not done, Ramunni. I want you alive to be presented to the Majesty.” Govindan said in a grave voice. He immediately felt a pang of guilt, realizing that he was talking about the life of the other so casually. Ramunni Menon smiled, as if he understood what goes on in his mind.

It was noontime when they reached Kadakkal house. According to a plan, Govindan stayed at the gatehouse, leaving Ramunni Menon to go in and meet his wife in disguise. The moment Ramunni walked in, Govindan walked back and climbed up on the raised platform under the banyan tree a bit away. From there, he could watch both the gates of the house. He didn't really believe that Ramunni Menon would try to give him the slip, but even if he did, he was confident of outrunning the limping man.

Almost half an hour passed without incident. Then he heard a commotion from the yard. A servant came running out of the gate and started looking around. Seeing no one, he raised his voice and called.

“Hey, fortune-teller!! fortune-teller!! Where are you?”

Govindan jumped down from the platform and walked towards the gate.

“Hey, come fast! Your brother is dying” The man said hysterically.

“What!! What happened?” Govindan called out, even as he was running towards the gate.

“No idea! The cook gave him some gruel by order from lady Kunjikaali. He drank half of it, and immediately started vomiting.”

Govindan froze in his tracks. The man who was talking to him was surprised.

Without a word, Govindan turned around and started walking away.

“Hey, where are you going? Didn't you hear? Your companion is dying!!” The servant started running towards Govindan. Govindan stopped, and faced the man.

“Go back!! Go back and tell them that you didn't find me anywhere.” The clear, steely voice practically cut through the poor man. At the same time, the end of the stick got detached from the rest and revealed a silvery steel blade inside. It immediate clapped shut, sending shivers through the spine of the poor man.

“Certainly, master! The man said, his voice trembling with fear. He turned and staggered back to the yard.

Govindan Nambiar walked fast. Once past the huge yard of Kadakkal house, he left the trail and vanished into a vacant lot.

“I would take whatever punishment that my lord, the majesty gives me. His royal feet is the only asylum I have.” Ramunni Menon said in a melancholy voice. “I can't bring myself to harm Arackal Yajaman. He gave me everything, and made me whatever. I need to first forewarn him, and ask him to flee to Nediyirippu before I confess to the majesty. Would you help me with that?”

“You know that I will not do such a thing.” The voice of Govindan Nambiar was firm. “What Kunjunni Menon did was not only treason, but also heinous murders. I want him to be brought to the justice of the majesty.”

“I know. You even saved me from that dungeon for that. I am thankful to you.” Ramunni said with a bow.

“Menon, I am doing the duty to my country. I saved you, because apart from being a perpetrator, you are the accessory and the witness to the heinous plot that was hatched against this country. I would be glad if you, your uncle, and everyone else involved did swing from the gallows.” Govindan said in a steely, non passionate voice. Ramunni Menon squirmed, as if from pain.

“Govindan, I deserve that. I am sure Arackal Yajaman also does. But I can't turn against him, even at the royal presence” Ramunni said in an almost pleading voice.

“You have no choice, Menon. You have to tell the majesty everything.” Govindan insisted.

“Whether I talk, or not talk, there is only one hanging, isn't it?” Ramunni tried to smile.

“Then we will have to make you talk, and then hang you.” Govindan said, ignoring the smile.
“Thinayancheri and associates tried a lot. You yourself have seen the effect, didn't you?” Ramunni asked, still smiling.

“I don't believe in torture, Ramunni” Govindan said, a slight sigh escaping him.

The room went silent for a long moment.

The cold of the water, reaching through the dense hair, as it bogged and streamed over the face, was barely registering into the dazed brain of Ramunni Menon. A feeble wail escaped from him. The coarse voice bubbled from the throat that was full of phlegm. It was more of reflex than conscious action that he turned the head away from the stream of water that still flowed.

A palm, cold but strong and thick, gently slapped his cheeks, trying to wake him. This act brought a bit of adrenaline, whatever left from the ordeal of the past few days, into his blood stream. The sudden gasp for air made him cough, and it ended in heavy wheezing as his body couldn't cope with the effort.

“Quiet please. I am friend.” A voice whispered, and the palm covered his mouth. Instinctively, the half conscious Ramunni Menon obeyed. He tried to open his eyes, but they were caked shut, possibly from blood. With some effort, he raised his right hand and tried to wipe them clear. It took a bit of effort, but finally he was able to open the eyes. The eyelids were swollen, and offered only a slit of view.

It was dark. There was only starlight coming from the small window placed high up in the wall. Anxiously, he looked around for the source of the voice. All he could see was a dark shape, sitting near him, with one hand over his chest.

“Who?” he tried to ask, but only a wheeze came out. But the man sitting near him figured the question.

“I am not an enemy. Now, let us try to get out of this place. Can you sit up?” He asked, instinctively trying to pull up the limp body.

With some great effort, Ramunny Menon turned to his side. Every muscle of his body ached. He tried to raise his torso, but a bomb of pain exploded in his head, rendering him unconscious for a moment again. Hopelessly, he let his head fall back to the floor.

“I think I will have to carry you.” The voice said matter of factly. “Can you move your legs? Tell me if any broken bones.”

Even in that weak state, Ramunni Menon conducted the art of mentally going over one's own body, checking damages. There was a wound on his right foot, and the ankle joint was almost dislocated. The hip joint is also gone. But, he realized with some satisfaction that no bones are broken. He still felt very weak and dazed. It must be all those concoctions he was force fed.

“No broken bones, but I can't use my right leg.” He said matter of factly. His companion felt a wave of appreciation for the man, being the professional he was.

“OK, I have the door open, and the guards taken care of. I am going to lift you on the python wrap.” The man said. He then kneeled down near the prostrate man, and lifted his midriff. In one smooth motion, he lifed up the heavy body, wrapping over his shoulder as a python wraps itself. With some struggle, he stood up, carrying the heavy weight.

He then felt the floor with his feet. He found his bundle, and lifted it up with his toes. After securing it by threading over his left arm, he started walking towards the door.

On his shoulder, Ramunni Menon fell back unconscious.

“Your excellency, are you serious?” The voice of Ramunny Menon rose a bit, which was unusual in the presence of the senior minister.

“I never babble, Ramunny. What I said, is what I want done.” Thinayancheri Elayathu's voice was firm like steel.

“But lord, what Mangattu Achan said..” As Ramunni begun, Elayathu quickly cut him off. “This is the royal resolve of the majesty. What Mangadan says or thinks doesn't matter.”

What Achan said was also as per the royal resolve. Why it is like this now?” Ramunni's voice was more accusatory than being a question.

“Matters change in politics, Ramunni, sometimes within hours.” Ramunni noted the lack of the fierce conviction that is normally present in the voice of the minister.

“But this goes completely against all our previous agreements.” Ramunni said, staring at the older man. His thick eyebrows twitched.

“We take opportunities as they come. There is no doubt that it is good for your side as well.” The minister said. Thought he countered Ramunni's stare, it lacked the element of sincerety.

“How can it be good, lord?” Kunjunni Yajaman is not going to like it, I am sure.”

“Why should Kunjunni object? He will have a bigger domain in the setup.” Elayathu said. His enthusiasm coming back a bit.

“How is that? Ramunni didn't get it.

“I will not only get Dharmothu Panicker return his lands, but also give him the promised lowland fields.” The minister said, sounding mangnanimous.

“The lands were always the right of Arackal house, and Kunjunni Yajaman doesn't covet the lowlands.”

“We can get more, if the royal resolve deigns.”

“Somehow, I am feeling less confident on the royal resolve.” For a moment Ramunni Menon doubted if he crossed the limit, as the face of the minister started to change. But the minister controlled himself in a moment.

“If the royal resolve deigns, Kunjunni can be a king, like Kurungott” The minister was delebrately being sweet.

“I don't think Arackal Yajaman wanted to be a king. What you ask is too much, my lord.” Ramunni Menon insisted.

“Too much? When did things became too much for you, Ramunni?” The minister asked, with audible sarcasm.

“But, it is the majesty you are talking abolut, my lord!” Ramunny tried to reason.

“So? Wasn't Kerala Varma your king?”

“It is different now. Kunjunni Yajaman would definitely consider the welfare of the royal consort.” Ramunni said.

“Oh, is it? Parvati Amma will get the consort's pension. Do you think Kunjunni would consider beyond that?”

“Misunderstanding people doesn't go well with your position, my lord. You know how me and Kunjunni Yajaman are to one another.” Ramunni's voice rose again.

“Listen to me, Ramunni. You should convince Kunjunni. If you can't, we may have to act without his support.” The minister said with an emphasis of finality.

“It is impossible for me to act against his wishes, and I don't think what you ask is right either.” Ramunni said with vigour.

“There is no right or wrong in politics, Ramunni. There are only interests. And what I asked is for the interests of all” It sounded like a sermon.

“Interest of all? What about the interest of the kingdom of Vettom?”

“The kingdom of Vettom should go! The lands belong to Nediyirippu.” The minister said ferociously.

“That may be your personal interest. I don't think it is even the interest of the majesty of Nediyirippu.” Ramunni shot back.

“It is definitely in your interest, Ramunni. How long you want to be stuck with the small kingdom?”

“The king is my friend as well, lord.”

“Wasn't Rama Varma your friend as well, Ramunni?” The minister asked in a steely voice. Ramunni suddenly fell silent. He always regretted his part in that terrible tragedy. But he was young and unsure about the ways of the world then.

“People change, my lord. I can't afford to get one more curse on my head.” Ramunni Menon said with a sense of finalty.

Thinayancheri Elayathu hadn't anticipated this.

The thick wick, made from coarse cotton weave, was burning like a torch, filling the room with bright yellow light. The lamp, as large as the uruli that cooks the morning offering at the chamravattom temple, was filled to the brink with prized gingelly oil. The thoughtful addition of a couple of lumps of camphor to the oil made the aroma fill the air. That, and the sweet smell of the various spices featured in the pan mix of the occupants gave an amount of regal presence to the occasion.

The well built, muscular form sitting in the middle would attract the attention of anyone. He was wearing one of the specimens of the finest cotton spinning and weaving traditions of the land. The simple mundu embraced his midriff with almost the fluidity of silk, and the edging, woven with crimson yarn accentuated the contrast with the very fair skin. The smaller 'aftercloth' was also woven with the same material, which was lazyly lying around his right shoulder. As he sat on the bench, supported by his right arm, the thin cloth often slid down, which he absent mindedly pulled up into place.

Thinayancheri Elayathu, the minister and army chief of Nediyirippu, was the king himself when he visited Nallemadham. He is married to Chiruthevi Akathamma, the eldest daughter of Narayan Elayathu. The family itself was a big and influential one. They had vast areas of land extending from Ponnani, almost upto Vanneri. They were one of the major feudal lords of the lands, and when Nediyirippu took over the areas, they loyally served the kings. However, it was after the alliance with Thinayancheri that the influence of the family reached its zenith. The house has become like a camp office for the minister. It was from there Nediyirippu controlled the trade to the port of Ponnani, and the subversion to the kingdom of Vettom from the south.

To the side, in a rather awkward and unbecoming to the role of the head of the house, Narayanan Elayathu was sitting on a padded mat. By all means, be it the seniority of age, relationship, or being the head of the house, Narayanan deserved the best seat, but in the imposing presence of the minister, he was relegated to a lesser stature. He was compensating the setback by almost feasting on the pan, liberally applying the choicest of the herbs that the minister's entourage brought in.

On the side opposite to the minister, a man a few years younger than the minister sat. his clothes were not the finest, but better than the ordinary folk. The hairdo and the white thread across the chest indicated that he is a Namboothiri. He appeared to be indifferent to the presence of the minister, as he was humming to himself some choicest verses of kathakali, with his eyes closed, and the mouth chewing the pan with vigour.

Would Ramunni agree, Rama?” Narayanan Elayathu was asking.

“Ramunny is only a weapon, Nallemadham! He has no choice.” The minister said in his deep voice.

Namboothiri looked up for a moment, and went back to humming.

It was not unusual for Vaidyanatha Iyer to receive nomad visitors, so the people at his madhom didn't pay any attention to the ragged pandaaram sitting at the gatehouse. After the lord of the house had his lunch and was ready for his afternoon rest, he called in the pandaaram and had a chat.

Vaithi was feeling a bit uncomfortable sitting on a chair, while someone he respected sat on the floor. But such things are not unusual in spy craft, so both the parties didn't think too much about it. Govindan was eager to get updated on what was going on in the country. Him being indisposed for several weeks in the immediate past had rendered him out of date.

“Where were you, yajaman? What did you do to get in trouble with Ramunni yajaman?” Vaithi asked.

“I believe Ramunni is not acting in the best interest of the country, swami. I had been trailing him for some time, and the information I get isn't good.” Govindan said, after weighing his words carefully.

“Do you think he knows that you did?” Vaithi asked, being careful not to seem too inquisitive.

“Maybe so. We had an encounter up north.” Govindan said, without hesitation.

“I guessed as much. Some rumors came this side as well, but I had no idea that it was you on the other side. I heard that the opponent was done with. Weren't you injured.” Vaithi asked excitedly.

“Yes. A poke under the collar bone. It still isn't healed fully. It will need some treatment as well.” Govindan removed the safron cloth and shown the bandaged collar.

“Oh, that looks awful! Vaithi exclaimed. “You walked all the way with that?” He felt a renewed respect for the man.

“Well, it was time to leave. It doesn't make walking difficult either.” Govindan said with a smile.

“OK, I will arrange a litter to take you to Vanneri. My uncle have a madhom there. You can stay and get treated. No one will know.” Vaithi offered.

For the rest of the afternoon, they updated each other on the various recent events. In the night, the litter carrying Govindan departed, across the river, to Vanneri.

Dileep. Great stuff. Your layering of 1950s (when CG was in service) with 1730s is great, but I haven't figured it all out. However, the description of princes, places, players, and pretty women is great. Waiting for your next installment.

“Who are you?”

That was the first thing Vaidyanatha Iyer asked his visitor, once he made sure that there was no one in earshot.

“Govindan. Chirakkal Govindan” The man said in the deep voice of himself. Vaithi was blown away for a moment. His stance instantly changed into something of respect.

Chirakkal Govindan Nambiar was the guru and lord of Vaidyanatha Iyer. Subrahmanya Iyer, his father, was a dependent of Govindan's family. When Govindan started assisting his father in the job of being the spy chief, he took the young Vaithi under his wings as an apprentice. For years, he had been a trusted lieutenant for the man, until he got into an independent position, managing the outfit at Chamravattom. He served the masters well, both father and son, till they were ousted from the department. He could manage without getting himself axed at the purge by his sheer will, and capability in diplomacy. Outwardly, he kept a distance to the old masters to avoid any trouble, but his inner self was still loyal to them. It was convenient for the Nambiars as well, because it still offered them an inlet into the organization.

“Yajaman! Where have you been?” He asked excitedly, but in a remarkably low voice, both in sound and tone.

“That is a long story, swami. I just came back from the north. Wanted to know the situation before I go and meet father.” Govindan's said, his voice betraying his fatigue of walking almost all night.

“It is a blessing that you came to me first, yajaman. You shouldn't go to the big yajaman in the open.” He said, still in the hushed tone.

“Why? What happened, swami?”

“You are secretly declared persona non grata. You will be taken if seen publicly.”

“Is it? Was that a royal edict?” Govindan was not surprised on the news. He had reasons to believe that such a move could have been made, hence he decided to see Vaithi first, instead of either going to his own or his father's house.

“No. We got the order from Ramunni Yajaman in the secret. What happened, yajaman? Did you two encounter each other, or something?” The tinge of eagerness was apparent in Vaithi's voice.

“I will tell you everything in due course, swami. Right now, I am dead tired. I will take a dip, eat at the mess, and come back to you at your madhom during noon break. If that is not inconvenient to you, that is.”

“What is inconvenient, when it comes to your matter, yajaman? Please do as you find proper.” Vaithi bowed to his erstwhile master and left.

The doors of the inner sanctum opened, and the small, but beautiful idol of the deity came into view among scores of lamps lit with ghee. The lord of kali yug and the master of the innumerable universes, lord Ayyappa, gave the holy revelation to the devotees standing patiently for the event. The morning worship was over. Bells tolled all around the complex, and also on the temple tower. The day proper of the small village of Chamravattom has begun. One by one, the devotees took the blessings and holy offerings and started leaving to begin their day.

Vaidyanatha Iyer finished chanting the one hundred and eight names of the lord, and walked towards the corner where the chief priest was giving out the holy offerings to the upper strata of the devotees. As it was customary for tamil brahmins, he took the plantain leaf containing the sandalwood paste, flowers and a bit of the 'usha nivedyam' without the customary bow to the priest. The priest smiled at him, acknowledging both his positions as a brahmin, and a royal officer. Iyer turned around, and took the clockwise path to come out of the inner complex.

As he came out of the inner court, he spotted a nomad standing to one side. It was a well built man in soiled saffron, attired like the 'pandaram' nomads from the kongu kingdom to the east. When he saw Iyer coming out, he took a step forward and bowed to the ground.

“Vanakkam, swami” he said in a tinny hoarse voice.

Instantly, Vaidyanathan recognized the disguise. It was someone from his trade.

“Vanakkam. What do you want?” Vaithi asked, not disclosing his discovery in any way. He stared at the man, trying to figure who could be inside this charade.

“I would like to speak to you in private” The man said.

“Is it urgent?”

“Yes, master.” The man said in an insistent tone.

Vaithi pointed to the temple pond with his eye, and walked away. The pandaaram took his stick and bundle and walked to the bath house at the pond.

In a few minutes, Vaithi was seen walking to the bath house himself.

Dileep wrote:Allright, folks. That is the end of section 1. And I almost ran out of buffer. I was thinking that I would be left alone in the hotel to write, but I guess I have a lot more friends than I realize. Now that I am trying to wrap up things for the return trip, I don't foresee much opportunity to write for several days.

So, rather than posting the few pages of the next section, I am giving it a pause here. It is time to reminisce.

As I mentioned in the beginning, I was a bit skeptic to run the book here on BRF. I felt vindicated when a serious admirer of SS-2 told me that he doesn't follow SSG. I also know that some did enjoy this one. It is all in the taste of the individual.

It is time to hear from you all who follow (or not follow) this. I want to get a feel on how it went till now.

Good writing - well researched - easy on the reader - keep the reader on hooks quality. Appreciation for your writing twitter style

Folks, thanks for the encouragement. The posts will re start in a weeks time. Meanwhile, efforts to criticize, dissect, review or comment on the story so far would be highly appreciated.

Dileep sir,

I am a big fan of your stories.

Best
CJ

Saare pliss to not take long breaks.

I am 'active' lurker as you might be able to judge from my post count. But I have bookmarked SSG and it is the first page I open expecting a new post. It is totally gripping and with a great style. Please continue boss.

Dileep sir, the storytelling has been profound so far, the layout is more similar to SS1 than SS2. Also it would be interesting to note the exact time in which Govindan Nambiar memoired this story.

No fair. You need to write more and keep us all from going berserk.

Dileep ,

please keep writing , you are doing great. We all need our daily fix of Spy Story.

Dileep

Pls. keep writing.

praise be to the Almighty! he made you a BRFite.
else, where would we be reading and getting highs
reading your Stories? i know writing needs special talents,
and special talents needs special treatment, take your time,
but please!!! do write.

Dileep Saar.... Please keep going.

absolute masterpiece ! keep it going,sir. This story should definitely be made into a TV series, for malluworld.

Dileep ji, please continue!

I am inspired to write a story placed in ~200BC. I am planning to start it soon unless people stop me; forcibly

merlin wrote:Boss, this is the best story you wrote. Keep going.

By far the best. Keep going man -- please; pretty please.

Boss, this is the best story you wrote. Keep going.

Just got in to my new job and running around like mad setting up stuff. Popped in just to read the story. Please do not stop.

Please continue writing. I feel that SSG is even better than SS-2. Not only is it a really good read, but it also gives a peek through time.

Dileep wrote:Allright, folks. That is the end of section 1. And I almost ran out of buffer. I was thinking that I would be left alone in the hotel to write, but I guess I have a lot more friends than I realize. Now that I am trying to wrap up things for the return trip, I don't foresee much opportunity to write for several days.

So, rather than posting the few pages of the next section, I am giving it a pause here. It is time to reminisce.

As I mentioned in the beginning, I was a bit skeptic to run the book here on BRF. I felt vindicated when a serious admirer of SS-2 told me that he doesn't follow SSG. I also know that some did enjoy this one. It is all in the taste of the individual.

It is time to hear from you all who follow (or not follow) this. I want to get a feel on how it went till now.

Please keep the story up. It is getting interesting.

Allright, folks. That is the end of section 1. And I almost ran out of buffer. I was thinking that I would be left alone in the hotel to write, but I guess I have a lot more friends than I realize. Now that I am trying to wrap up things for the return trip, I don't foresee much opportunity to write for several days.

So, rather than posting the few pages of the next section, I am giving it a pause here. It is time to reminisce.

As I mentioned in the beginning, I was a bit skeptic to run the book here on BRF. I felt vindicated when a serious admirer of SS-2 told me that he doesn't follow SSG. I also know that some did enjoy this one. It is all in the taste of the individual.

It is time to hear from you all who follow (or not follow) this. I want to get a feel on how it went till now.