Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
he didn't say the smell perception was gone, he said sreejith became used to it. there's a difference.
Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
Jasmie Basheer is a protest figure and a rebel inside the system. I agree with Klaus she is the best characterized woman so far in Dileep's stories. I did ask someone to compare and contrast the women characters in Dileep's stories. How are the similar and who are hey different and what makes them unique or memorable?
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Dileep
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Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
Are you married, chacko, or do you have a GF with intimate relationship? If so, you can experiment/experience what I hint. When a human wears a perfume, it creates layers (not unlike a story, 
) with the fragrance of the perfume, the body and the pheromones. There is a link between the (natural) body odour and compatibility.
Then, remember the situation. Both of them sweated inside that chilled server room.
) with the fragrance of the perfume, the body and the pheromones. There is a link between the (natural) body odour and compatibility.Then, remember the situation. Both of them sweated inside that chilled server room.
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chackojoseph
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Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
Ok, I told you what I think about the scent. As I said, I have experienced similar sit' in a place I worked. If the perfume is heavy and if you are not a regular user, then it is nauseating as a probability or you loose the smell perception. There is a possibility that you might actually like it if it pleases your senses.
Dileep, you wanted to show our dame as very rebel kind of piece. But, you know with the combination of cloths and the perfume, which you want to portray, is non workable. Cause, they make her an ordinary Muslim women. In the rich modern working women bracket they are all the same. Modern cloths, headgear or without.
The point you mention is that "you have not seen or you tried to take an idea from a writer "who has in my opinion" portrayed it out of ignorance. But to the people who know, this will be not appealing.
I admit, your "narration" makes it bit rebellious character. But, its limited to narration and not fact.
But, there are other points I mentioned too.
Dileep, you wanted to show our dame as very rebel kind of piece. But, you know with the combination of cloths and the perfume, which you want to portray, is non workable. Cause, they make her an ordinary Muslim women. In the rich modern working women bracket they are all the same. Modern cloths, headgear or without.
The point you mention is that "you have not seen or you tried to take an idea from a writer "who has in my opinion" portrayed it out of ignorance. But to the people who know, this will be not appealing.
I admit, your "narration" makes it bit rebellious character. But, its limited to narration and not fact.
But, there are other points I mentioned too.
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Dileep
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Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
Think it this way. She as a human, believes it is a rebellious action, just like certain Ayesha of Peshawar flashing her ankles in the market. She is a mallu muslim gal, alumnus of TKM, employed at a company in Technopark, for the sake of the brofat's beard!!
She is no bond girl. At least for time being.
She is no bond girl. At least for time being.
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chackojoseph
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Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
Ok, so make it a point to mention some reasons why you think its different in Kerala, which could be a definite normal sit' in rest of the world. I have seen Muslim women "usually" wear a white scarf like head gear on chetta mundu. so, it will be really hard to understand why a "hijab" worn over jeans is rebellion. Strong perfumes are also normal.
You wanted feedback.
You wanted feedback.
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Dileep
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Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
I think there are two ways of looking at a fictional character.
1. Take what the author have written as canon, and analyze the personality based on the available information. In this scheme of things, you (chacko) could say that Jasmine is a self absorbed person who thinks that she doing something real rebellious, while in reality, the action is pretty common, and others see no value in it.
2. Take it one step further, and speculate how the author could have improved the fiction by modifying the character in certain ways.
Both are good and accepted ways of literary criticism. Since we have come this far with this character, could you please try focus on type 1? And write up what you think of her as a person as written. That would tremendously help the author.
Yes, I honestly appreciate the feedback. That is what improves the trade. Please continue dissecting the elements as deep as you can.
1. Take what the author have written as canon, and analyze the personality based on the available information. In this scheme of things, you (chacko) could say that Jasmine is a self absorbed person who thinks that she doing something real rebellious, while in reality, the action is pretty common, and others see no value in it.
2. Take it one step further, and speculate how the author could have improved the fiction by modifying the character in certain ways.
Both are good and accepted ways of literary criticism. Since we have come this far with this character, could you please try focus on type 1? And write up what you think of her as a person as written. That would tremendously help the author.
Yes, I honestly appreciate the feedback. That is what improves the trade. Please continue dissecting the elements as deep as you can.
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Dileep
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Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
Chapter 30
The wound on his calf was not deep. Thanks to the thick denim, the sharp wood had only made a tear in the skin just reaching the muscle. No major blood vessel was damaged. The bleeding was already stopped, but the ragged edge of the would had already turned purple, signaling the start of sepsis. The pain had dulled, possibly because the brain shut it out. The leg seemed heavy, and the region around the wound seemed to be a bit numb to the touch. The brown clotting of the blood was still gummy, and he was scared to disturb it. He tore off the dangling piece of the jeans and thoroughly washed it in the stream. The fish got the scent of blood and rushed up to gobble whatever remnants got into the water. He squeezed the excess water off the rag and started to clean up the periphery of the wound.
The events after the fall was still in a haze. He couldn't really remember the trek down the slope, or finding this stream, which was indeed a life saver. He was thoroughly dehydrated and drained, to the extent of collapsing and passing out for good. It should have been pure luck, and the subconscious mind that remembered the lessons he learned from Bear, that led him to this stream. After the fill of the water from the stream that mother nature processed better than any beverage, he could feel the life giving fluid quickly spreading throughout his body, raising the cells from slumber, and clearing his brain, moment by moment. It was like waking up from sleep. He was surprised that dehydration could do that to you.
The downside of the body waking up from the slumber was, that the pain started to come back as well. The whole right leg between the ankle and the knee started throbbing with pain upon each beat of the pulse, and even the mild touch of the rag turned painful. He noticed the change of colour of the wound, and realized that he should do something more than cleaning it up, unless he wants to die of gangrene. He tried to remember what Bear Grylls had to say on that. Bear never seemed to get injured, except some chaffed skin. He once used a wild aloe vera for that. He couldn't remember anything that was good for an open wound. What he did remember was the home remedy his aunt used to prescribe.
Touch-me-not, the thorny shrub that people hated when they encroached into their lands, is an excellent antiseptic. It used to be the standard prescription in the villages, where Dettol or Hydrogen Peroxide was unheard of. The young buds of this plant are collected, crushed and applied as bandage. It worked great with the abrasion wounds at difficult places like the kneecap, that every active boy seemed to get. Sreejith himself used to be the recipient of the benefits this wonder plant. He looked around, and soon found a thick growth of the plant behind a boulder. It took some hard resolve, and braving some terrible pain to reach there, but he managed to collect a bunch of the buds. He found a suitable depression on the smooth rock of the stream bed, and using a stone from the stream bed, he crushed them well. Then he squeezed the mash in his hand, and started dropping the juice on the wound, letting it collect in the depression. Slowly it penetrated the clot that was yet to fully solidify. It started to sting a little. There was no way he could bandage the wound, since it it pretty long and he didn't want to tear up his shirt. He decided to leave it open, and to let the medicine do its work. He stretched the leg so that the wound faced up, and relaxed a bit, relaxing and taking stock of things for the first time after he fled the sanctuary of his aunt's house.
In the back of his mind, he knew that the place was not really safe. He is dealing with the NIA, who are professionals. Sooner or later, they would have tracked him. His aunt was totally with him. So was Nandan. Given the attitude, he was not too sure about Sumitra. He wouldn't be surprised if she herself called the police, or got a relative of her to call and inform them. She had openly declared that his shelter at the house is jeopardizing them. He couldn't do much on that, other than to keep a good watch out.
But he couldn't forgive himself for leaving that laptop back there. He was in the process of cracking the phone he obtained from the terrorists. Yes, he would call them that, given the pieces of information he was able to piece together. He had the flash and SIM memory dumped to the laptop, and the call and message logs decrypted from them. He was working on the location log when he was interrupted. He was glad that he remembered to grab the phone, along with his own phone that had the recorded conversations of the terrorists. Some of the audio files were transferred to the laptop for editing, but not all. Having the phone was vital if he ever had to re start the quest.
Maybe it is a good thing that he left the laptop behind. Seeing that he gave the slip, they would definitely take custody of it. If they figure half as much as he did, they would get the scent of the terrorist operation at Guruvayoor, and go after those guys. Though they must have completely vanished from there, after they have reasons to believe that their cover is blown.
He was not yet clear what they were after. He was positive that they were planning some operation. Given the use of spoken urdu, and the clear mark on their foreheads, it is a given that they were muslims, probably from Bangaldesh. That would extrapolate into a speculation that they were part of the Pakistani supported terrorist operations. A sleeper cell, maybe. But the way they had been working seemed to indicate that they are no longer sleeping, but active on some nefarious project.
Then why did Julio Fernando behave the way he did? Did the audio clip contain something drastically important, like an impending danger? Was that the reason why he frantically tried to locate the source? Sreejith felt a bit stupid in not responding to him. But at that moment, it seemed like he was with the other side, trying to track him. He was focused completely on his on affairs, and he was wary of everything unusual. Definitely this angle could have never been occurred to him then. Maybe he should get back in touch with Julio. But for that he need to get out of this jungle and get to civilization.
That thought brought him back to the present. He need to get out of the jungle and get to a road where he can get a ride to a town. Any town that is reasonably crowded. He hadn't figured what to do after that. He had around five thousand rupees in cash in his wallet. He felt surprised on himself as he felt rather well of with that amount. The way people's outlook changes with the environment. He used to consider that amount to be pocket change earlier, when he was backed by his bank. But after going through the ordeals recently, it seemed like a princely sum.
He knew he couldn't go back to his aunt's place. He will have to find his own shelter. He had friends in Palakkad and Ottapalam, but he was not sure if he would be welcome there, or even just safe to show up. It maybe better to go to Coimbatore, and hide in the crowd of the city. He was wondering what kind of hell did break loose at the aunt's place with the raid. He could call them and find out. He still had a working phone. Only if he is within range of a cell tower.
Maybe not. He was not sure about the response, and he was not sure if that would be pushing them into more troubles. He should call Vijay and get the information indirectly. The call will give away his location, but that didn't matter. The investigators already knew that he will not be too far from the place, and he wouldn't surprised even if the networks are actively tracing his SIM.
And maybe he could use the phone to figure the direction of the cell tower. At distances far away from the tower, the uneven directivity of the antenna of a phone comes into play. This can be used to get an approximate fix on the direction of the tower.
He hesitated for a moment, then pressed and held the power button. The phone turned on. He waited anxiously for the boot up to complete and the network to be selected. He was glad to see a faint signal come up, and the phone got connected. Excited, he stood up, keeping the phone close to his chest, and turning around, waiting a couple of minutes at each quadrant, trying to see the signal strength.
Then SMS messages started to come in.
The missed call alert facility was reporting calls from a few numbers. Many calls from Vijay's number. Several from the land line at his aunt's place and the cell phone of his cousin. A couple from Ramesh Menon, his lawyer. That was not too surprising. They were, after all, his well wishers, and would want to find out what happened to him.
After the stream of missed call alerts, he got one SMS from Vijay, imploring him to call him as soon as possible. Sreejith was confused a bit with the phrasing of that message. There was no personal touch to that. It almost looked like someone else sent it from Vijay's phone.
He stopped the attempt to find the direction, and decided to call Vijay.
The call was answered on the second ring. “It's me, Etta”, Sreejith said, not waiting for Vijay to speak.
“Sree, you must come back immediately and surrender.” The voice of Vijay was dry. Sreejith was dumbstruck. There was no query about his well being. Not even an 'are you OK?' courtesy. There was no sigh of relief, or excitement in hearing his voice. Just an authoritative order that seemed to come from a police officer.
“What etta? What happened?” He managed to blurt out.
“They got proof. You should surrender as soon as possible to avoid complications.” The same indifferent voice came on. If Sreejith was not so familiar with his brother-in-law's voice, he could have suspected that he is talking to a stranger.
“What proof, etta? I don't understand.” Sreejith almost wailed, his voice breaking with fear and tension.
“They found something really bad from your laptop. I was told I can't protect you anymore. You must surrender immediately.” Vijay said with a sense of finality.
“My laptop? What did they find in it?” Sreejith was totally confused. His legs trembled, and he had to hold on to a sapling to steady himself.
“I don't want to talk about it. It is your laptop. You should know what was in it. Call me with your location, and I will inform the police to pick you up.” With that the phone clicked off.
Sreejith saw the forest go around him, and then the green shrubs approach him fast, as he collapsed in a heap on the floor. He tried to break his fall by extending his arms, but they refused to obey the command from the brain. The phone fell off from his grip, and all he could do before losing consciousness was to turn on his back to protect his face.
The wound on his calf was not deep. Thanks to the thick denim, the sharp wood had only made a tear in the skin just reaching the muscle. No major blood vessel was damaged. The bleeding was already stopped, but the ragged edge of the would had already turned purple, signaling the start of sepsis. The pain had dulled, possibly because the brain shut it out. The leg seemed heavy, and the region around the wound seemed to be a bit numb to the touch. The brown clotting of the blood was still gummy, and he was scared to disturb it. He tore off the dangling piece of the jeans and thoroughly washed it in the stream. The fish got the scent of blood and rushed up to gobble whatever remnants got into the water. He squeezed the excess water off the rag and started to clean up the periphery of the wound.
The events after the fall was still in a haze. He couldn't really remember the trek down the slope, or finding this stream, which was indeed a life saver. He was thoroughly dehydrated and drained, to the extent of collapsing and passing out for good. It should have been pure luck, and the subconscious mind that remembered the lessons he learned from Bear, that led him to this stream. After the fill of the water from the stream that mother nature processed better than any beverage, he could feel the life giving fluid quickly spreading throughout his body, raising the cells from slumber, and clearing his brain, moment by moment. It was like waking up from sleep. He was surprised that dehydration could do that to you.
The downside of the body waking up from the slumber was, that the pain started to come back as well. The whole right leg between the ankle and the knee started throbbing with pain upon each beat of the pulse, and even the mild touch of the rag turned painful. He noticed the change of colour of the wound, and realized that he should do something more than cleaning it up, unless he wants to die of gangrene. He tried to remember what Bear Grylls had to say on that. Bear never seemed to get injured, except some chaffed skin. He once used a wild aloe vera for that. He couldn't remember anything that was good for an open wound. What he did remember was the home remedy his aunt used to prescribe.
Touch-me-not, the thorny shrub that people hated when they encroached into their lands, is an excellent antiseptic. It used to be the standard prescription in the villages, where Dettol or Hydrogen Peroxide was unheard of. The young buds of this plant are collected, crushed and applied as bandage. It worked great with the abrasion wounds at difficult places like the kneecap, that every active boy seemed to get. Sreejith himself used to be the recipient of the benefits this wonder plant. He looked around, and soon found a thick growth of the plant behind a boulder. It took some hard resolve, and braving some terrible pain to reach there, but he managed to collect a bunch of the buds. He found a suitable depression on the smooth rock of the stream bed, and using a stone from the stream bed, he crushed them well. Then he squeezed the mash in his hand, and started dropping the juice on the wound, letting it collect in the depression. Slowly it penetrated the clot that was yet to fully solidify. It started to sting a little. There was no way he could bandage the wound, since it it pretty long and he didn't want to tear up his shirt. He decided to leave it open, and to let the medicine do its work. He stretched the leg so that the wound faced up, and relaxed a bit, relaxing and taking stock of things for the first time after he fled the sanctuary of his aunt's house.
In the back of his mind, he knew that the place was not really safe. He is dealing with the NIA, who are professionals. Sooner or later, they would have tracked him. His aunt was totally with him. So was Nandan. Given the attitude, he was not too sure about Sumitra. He wouldn't be surprised if she herself called the police, or got a relative of her to call and inform them. She had openly declared that his shelter at the house is jeopardizing them. He couldn't do much on that, other than to keep a good watch out.
But he couldn't forgive himself for leaving that laptop back there. He was in the process of cracking the phone he obtained from the terrorists. Yes, he would call them that, given the pieces of information he was able to piece together. He had the flash and SIM memory dumped to the laptop, and the call and message logs decrypted from them. He was working on the location log when he was interrupted. He was glad that he remembered to grab the phone, along with his own phone that had the recorded conversations of the terrorists. Some of the audio files were transferred to the laptop for editing, but not all. Having the phone was vital if he ever had to re start the quest.
Maybe it is a good thing that he left the laptop behind. Seeing that he gave the slip, they would definitely take custody of it. If they figure half as much as he did, they would get the scent of the terrorist operation at Guruvayoor, and go after those guys. Though they must have completely vanished from there, after they have reasons to believe that their cover is blown.
He was not yet clear what they were after. He was positive that they were planning some operation. Given the use of spoken urdu, and the clear mark on their foreheads, it is a given that they were muslims, probably from Bangaldesh. That would extrapolate into a speculation that they were part of the Pakistani supported terrorist operations. A sleeper cell, maybe. But the way they had been working seemed to indicate that they are no longer sleeping, but active on some nefarious project.
Then why did Julio Fernando behave the way he did? Did the audio clip contain something drastically important, like an impending danger? Was that the reason why he frantically tried to locate the source? Sreejith felt a bit stupid in not responding to him. But at that moment, it seemed like he was with the other side, trying to track him. He was focused completely on his on affairs, and he was wary of everything unusual. Definitely this angle could have never been occurred to him then. Maybe he should get back in touch with Julio. But for that he need to get out of this jungle and get to civilization.
That thought brought him back to the present. He need to get out of the jungle and get to a road where he can get a ride to a town. Any town that is reasonably crowded. He hadn't figured what to do after that. He had around five thousand rupees in cash in his wallet. He felt surprised on himself as he felt rather well of with that amount. The way people's outlook changes with the environment. He used to consider that amount to be pocket change earlier, when he was backed by his bank. But after going through the ordeals recently, it seemed like a princely sum.
He knew he couldn't go back to his aunt's place. He will have to find his own shelter. He had friends in Palakkad and Ottapalam, but he was not sure if he would be welcome there, or even just safe to show up. It maybe better to go to Coimbatore, and hide in the crowd of the city. He was wondering what kind of hell did break loose at the aunt's place with the raid. He could call them and find out. He still had a working phone. Only if he is within range of a cell tower.
Maybe not. He was not sure about the response, and he was not sure if that would be pushing them into more troubles. He should call Vijay and get the information indirectly. The call will give away his location, but that didn't matter. The investigators already knew that he will not be too far from the place, and he wouldn't surprised even if the networks are actively tracing his SIM.
And maybe he could use the phone to figure the direction of the cell tower. At distances far away from the tower, the uneven directivity of the antenna of a phone comes into play. This can be used to get an approximate fix on the direction of the tower.
He hesitated for a moment, then pressed and held the power button. The phone turned on. He waited anxiously for the boot up to complete and the network to be selected. He was glad to see a faint signal come up, and the phone got connected. Excited, he stood up, keeping the phone close to his chest, and turning around, waiting a couple of minutes at each quadrant, trying to see the signal strength.
Then SMS messages started to come in.
The missed call alert facility was reporting calls from a few numbers. Many calls from Vijay's number. Several from the land line at his aunt's place and the cell phone of his cousin. A couple from Ramesh Menon, his lawyer. That was not too surprising. They were, after all, his well wishers, and would want to find out what happened to him.
After the stream of missed call alerts, he got one SMS from Vijay, imploring him to call him as soon as possible. Sreejith was confused a bit with the phrasing of that message. There was no personal touch to that. It almost looked like someone else sent it from Vijay's phone.
He stopped the attempt to find the direction, and decided to call Vijay.
The call was answered on the second ring. “It's me, Etta”, Sreejith said, not waiting for Vijay to speak.
“Sree, you must come back immediately and surrender.” The voice of Vijay was dry. Sreejith was dumbstruck. There was no query about his well being. Not even an 'are you OK?' courtesy. There was no sigh of relief, or excitement in hearing his voice. Just an authoritative order that seemed to come from a police officer.
“What etta? What happened?” He managed to blurt out.
“They got proof. You should surrender as soon as possible to avoid complications.” The same indifferent voice came on. If Sreejith was not so familiar with his brother-in-law's voice, he could have suspected that he is talking to a stranger.
“What proof, etta? I don't understand.” Sreejith almost wailed, his voice breaking with fear and tension.
“They found something really bad from your laptop. I was told I can't protect you anymore. You must surrender immediately.” Vijay said with a sense of finality.
“My laptop? What did they find in it?” Sreejith was totally confused. His legs trembled, and he had to hold on to a sapling to steady himself.
“I don't want to talk about it. It is your laptop. You should know what was in it. Call me with your location, and I will inform the police to pick you up.” With that the phone clicked off.
Sreejith saw the forest go around him, and then the green shrubs approach him fast, as he collapsed in a heap on the floor. He tried to break his fall by extending his arms, but they refused to obey the command from the brain. The phone fell off from his grip, and all he could do before losing consciousness was to turn on his back to protect his face.
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chackojoseph
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Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
You know dileep, there is no known example of muslims bing a rebel with clothing. actually, there are defiance cases, but, the way you want to portray it is not available.
Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
del.
Last edited by Rahul M on 08 Nov 2010 13:29, edited 1 time in total.
Reason: no need to get personal.
Reason: no need to get personal.
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manish.rastogi
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Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
Sir....the story is going brilliantly!!I totally love it!!But....I feel the essence of it being a spy story is not visible!!!
Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
Chacko, Feed back is nice but if it gets monotonous need to ask you to write your own story. One has to give the author leeway. What you are doing is not feedback but plain old criticism without adding value.
Dileep, Might have to consider the traditional mode of writing and post only after the story is complete.
Dileep, Might have to consider the traditional mode of writing and post only after the story is complete.
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chackojoseph
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Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
ramana,
You are correct.
==================================
Dileep Cheta, then what happened
You are correct.
==================================
Dileep Cheta, then what happened
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Dileep
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Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
Chapter 31
“Wake up, kid. Take the tea.” The voice seemed to be coming from far away, from the depth of deep space. As his body was gently shaken, Sreejith woke up, and saw the smiling, bearded face of the old man standing over him. For a long confused moment, he couldn't get his bearings. He looked at the man with dazed eyes and a hollow mind. “Take the tea, kid. You will feel a bit better.” The man insisted, betel stained teeth flashing from behind the gray, unkempt beard. Sreejith looked at the cup of steaming black tea in his hands, and then looked around to find himself in a shack, lying on a plastic wrapped charpoy. It was bright light. Should be late morning. Slowly his mind started clearing, and reality trickled in. He had slept all through the previous afternoon and the night, and well into the day.
Things slowly started to come back to him. He tried to push himself up, but his entire body ached, and refused to cooperate. He could not move his right leg, as even the slight disturbance sent pangs of pain. The man moved the cup to his left hand and extended his right hand in assistance. Sreejith took the hand gratefully and sat up, cringing in pain. Sitting in a lump, he smiled back at the man, and extended his hand for the cup. He felt immensely grateful to the man for the gesture, as he was terribly thirsty. Shamsudin Musaliyar#, that was the name of the old man, handed over the cup, and watched Sreejith blow the surface to cool and drink the hot elixir.
“I added some herbs into the tea. It is good for bruises.” Musaliyar explained, as he noticed Sreejith's face contort a bit after taking the first sip. “It will be a little bit bitter. Don't mind it”. Sreejith nodded, and continued to sip the potion.
“I checked you out before I went to tapping. You were fast asleep. I was tense thinking you might have ran off before I return” The man smiled. A childishly mischievous smile.
“I am too tired even to get up, ikka*. Let alone run away”. Sreejith said, his eyes shining with gratitude to the man for saving him and taking him in.
“You drink it full and relax. I have put tapioca on the stove. You should be hungry. It will be ready in a moment.” Saying this, the man patted Sreejith's head and walked out.
The bullock cart had stopped beside the figure walking the unpaved, country road. Sreejith was not really paying attention to the contraption, because it was going in the opposite direction to where he was going. The bearded old man, in a lungi, baniyan, and a white bandana around his head, stretched his head out from the driving seat and peered at Sreejith. He was in a terrible shape. A quarter of the right leg of the jeans missing, exposing a deep wound on the calf. Smaller wounds and bruises all over the body. Blood stains and dirt all over the jeans and shirt. He looked as if a car just ran over him, and he was walking away from the accident.
“Where are you going, kid? In this shape? What happened” Was the direct question by the man. The paternal smile sent a wave of comfort within Sreejith.
“I got lost in the forest, ikka” Sreejith said, figuring the man was a muslim from his attire. “I fell down an injured my leg.”
“Oh, lord! You are in such a terrible shape! Where are you going? Get in the cart. No need to walk!” The man said, pointing to the back of the cart.
“I am going to Vithanassery. It is that way, isn't it?” Sreejith pointed to the direction from which the cart came.
“Oh, that is too far, and you won't be able to walk there. Come, I will take you to my place. You need to clean up, eat something and I will arrange some vehicle from there” He insisted.
“No, I will walk and get some vehicle.” Sreejith said, more out of courtesy.
“What are you talking about, my kid? There are no vehicles to come on this road. It is three and odd kilometres to the next junction where you can get any vehicle. You will drop dead by then.” He said, still with the smile. “Get on. You need some rest.”
Sreejith's body was crying out for a repose, and he chose to accept the invitation. It took him some effort to pull his sore body up into the back of the cart. The bed was full of sacks of fertilizer and a few bags of groceries. He made a bit of space by pushing them to one side, and sat down, leaning against the railing of the cart. The man made a clucking sound with his tongue, and the oxen started walking.
“What is your name, son? Where are you coming from” The man asked, turning around to face his passenger.
“Sanjeev” Sreejith said. That alias had become a habit for him, that it came naturally. “What is your name, ikka?” He asked.
“Shamsudin. Shamsudin Musaliyar is the full name. I look after the rubber plantation of Kondotty Thangal here.” He said. “I am returning from market at Vithanassery getting stuff, and here, I saw you”
“Do you live in the plantation itself?” Sreejith asked, trying to sound casual.
“Yes. There is a small shack there.” The man said, as he started to roll up a pan for himself.
“You live alone?” Given the situation he was in, Sreejith had to enquire.
“The lord, his book, and myself” The man laughed, as he pushed the pan into his mouth.
The conversation paused for time being. It took almost an hour to reach Musaliyar's shack, and Sreejith had fallen asleep in the cart en route. He didn't remember being assisted to get down, being directed to the charpoy, or anything else thereafter.
# Musaliyar: Title of petty Islamic scholars, who serve the local mosques in Kerala.
* Ikka: Term addressing elder brother by muslims of Kerala. Universally used to address a male muslim older than yourself.
“Wake up, kid. Take the tea.” The voice seemed to be coming from far away, from the depth of deep space. As his body was gently shaken, Sreejith woke up, and saw the smiling, bearded face of the old man standing over him. For a long confused moment, he couldn't get his bearings. He looked at the man with dazed eyes and a hollow mind. “Take the tea, kid. You will feel a bit better.” The man insisted, betel stained teeth flashing from behind the gray, unkempt beard. Sreejith looked at the cup of steaming black tea in his hands, and then looked around to find himself in a shack, lying on a plastic wrapped charpoy. It was bright light. Should be late morning. Slowly his mind started clearing, and reality trickled in. He had slept all through the previous afternoon and the night, and well into the day.
Things slowly started to come back to him. He tried to push himself up, but his entire body ached, and refused to cooperate. He could not move his right leg, as even the slight disturbance sent pangs of pain. The man moved the cup to his left hand and extended his right hand in assistance. Sreejith took the hand gratefully and sat up, cringing in pain. Sitting in a lump, he smiled back at the man, and extended his hand for the cup. He felt immensely grateful to the man for the gesture, as he was terribly thirsty. Shamsudin Musaliyar#, that was the name of the old man, handed over the cup, and watched Sreejith blow the surface to cool and drink the hot elixir.
“I added some herbs into the tea. It is good for bruises.” Musaliyar explained, as he noticed Sreejith's face contort a bit after taking the first sip. “It will be a little bit bitter. Don't mind it”. Sreejith nodded, and continued to sip the potion.
“I checked you out before I went to tapping. You were fast asleep. I was tense thinking you might have ran off before I return” The man smiled. A childishly mischievous smile.
“I am too tired even to get up, ikka*. Let alone run away”. Sreejith said, his eyes shining with gratitude to the man for saving him and taking him in.
“You drink it full and relax. I have put tapioca on the stove. You should be hungry. It will be ready in a moment.” Saying this, the man patted Sreejith's head and walked out.
The bullock cart had stopped beside the figure walking the unpaved, country road. Sreejith was not really paying attention to the contraption, because it was going in the opposite direction to where he was going. The bearded old man, in a lungi, baniyan, and a white bandana around his head, stretched his head out from the driving seat and peered at Sreejith. He was in a terrible shape. A quarter of the right leg of the jeans missing, exposing a deep wound on the calf. Smaller wounds and bruises all over the body. Blood stains and dirt all over the jeans and shirt. He looked as if a car just ran over him, and he was walking away from the accident.
“Where are you going, kid? In this shape? What happened” Was the direct question by the man. The paternal smile sent a wave of comfort within Sreejith.
“I got lost in the forest, ikka” Sreejith said, figuring the man was a muslim from his attire. “I fell down an injured my leg.”
“Oh, lord! You are in such a terrible shape! Where are you going? Get in the cart. No need to walk!” The man said, pointing to the back of the cart.
“I am going to Vithanassery. It is that way, isn't it?” Sreejith pointed to the direction from which the cart came.
“Oh, that is too far, and you won't be able to walk there. Come, I will take you to my place. You need to clean up, eat something and I will arrange some vehicle from there” He insisted.
“No, I will walk and get some vehicle.” Sreejith said, more out of courtesy.
“What are you talking about, my kid? There are no vehicles to come on this road. It is three and odd kilometres to the next junction where you can get any vehicle. You will drop dead by then.” He said, still with the smile. “Get on. You need some rest.”
Sreejith's body was crying out for a repose, and he chose to accept the invitation. It took him some effort to pull his sore body up into the back of the cart. The bed was full of sacks of fertilizer and a few bags of groceries. He made a bit of space by pushing them to one side, and sat down, leaning against the railing of the cart. The man made a clucking sound with his tongue, and the oxen started walking.
“What is your name, son? Where are you coming from” The man asked, turning around to face his passenger.
“Sanjeev” Sreejith said. That alias had become a habit for him, that it came naturally. “What is your name, ikka?” He asked.
“Shamsudin. Shamsudin Musaliyar is the full name. I look after the rubber plantation of Kondotty Thangal here.” He said. “I am returning from market at Vithanassery getting stuff, and here, I saw you”
“Do you live in the plantation itself?” Sreejith asked, trying to sound casual.
“Yes. There is a small shack there.” The man said, as he started to roll up a pan for himself.
“You live alone?” Given the situation he was in, Sreejith had to enquire.
“The lord, his book, and myself” The man laughed, as he pushed the pan into his mouth.
The conversation paused for time being. It took almost an hour to reach Musaliyar's shack, and Sreejith had fallen asleep in the cart en route. He didn't remember being assisted to get down, being directed to the charpoy, or anything else thereafter.
# Musaliyar: Title of petty Islamic scholars, who serve the local mosques in Kerala.
* Ikka: Term addressing elder brother by muslims of Kerala. Universally used to address a male muslim older than yourself.
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Dileep
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Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
Ramana, that model will not work for me. I tried. I feel like talking to the wind if I do.
The first section will end with the next two chapters. The next section will start only after accumulating some chapters, or maybe the whole part, because the last few chapters are already written.
The first section will end with the next two chapters. The next section will start only after accumulating some chapters, or maybe the whole part, because the last few chapters are already written.
Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
Thanks. Very picturesque old man.
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Dileep
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Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
Chapter 32
The bus was almost empty. Only a few seats were occupied, mostly by village folk going to town. Sreejith sat hunched on one of the seats, close to the window. The seat next to him was empty. He was wearing a white mundu, work high exposing the ankles, a full sleeved white shirt, and a turban made of white muslin. With the ample growth of the facial hair, he himself felt that his disguise is pretty good. With the application of crushed young leaves of the teak tree to his forehead, even the required mark of namaaz was complete. Anyone would take him for a young Musaliyar. The only problem was, beyond the 'assalaamu alaikum' greeting, he wouldn't be able to hold any conversation in the proper lingo to go with the attire.
The disguise was Shamsudin's idea. He had gladly donated an old set from the few he had, and categorically refused to accept any payment in return. He was very reluctant to let Sreejith go, and it took a lot of cajoling to persuade him. All these show of affection tore Sreejith's heart, because he was, once again, making a big lie out of himself. His soul couldn't find solace in that, but he didn't have a choice.
It was the morning, two days after he came to the shack. Most of his wounds had somewhat healed, and he was feeling ok, except the big wound on his leg, which, despite repeated application of various herbal concoctions that the old man made, had shown a bit of sepsis. It was bandaged using torn pieces of some old mundu. Nevertheless, he was planning to leave the place in that afternoon. Shamsudin was away, as usual, to do his job of tapping. The poor man had prepared a bowl of gruel for Sreejith for his breakfast. Sreejith went about mending the various bruises and wounds, while thinking over his approach to convince the old man to let him leave.
He was surprised to see Shamsudin come back early. He seemed to be in great hurry, and his face was flushed red. The perennial smile that adored the old wrinkled face was totally absent. He approached the charpoy where Sreejith was sitting, and threw the folded newspaper he was carrying in front of him.
Sreejith was totally taken aback by this approach. He eagerly looked at the newspaper to see what caused the excitement in the man. His own picture, blown up in size this time, was on the front page, with a four column title. Shamsudin stood there, glaring at Sreejith, like he did some utterly despicable act.
“Spy Suspect Has Terrorist Connections” Screamed the headline.
Eagerly, Sreejith scanned through the story. He was not sure if it was the creation of the reporter, or the police itself, but there was a colourful story on how the police helped the NIA in a raid looking for the absconding suspect of the spy case, and how they unearthed evidence from his hideout, connecting him to the terror network. The full force of Kerala Police was after the alleged terrorist accomplice, the report concluded.
Sreejith couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry. He was more amused than concerned. This kind of an interpretation sounded so outlandish, that it wouldn't have happened even in his wildest dreams. Obviously, the police got hold of his laptop, and took the evidence he had collected, and went way out of mark by interpreting that he was involved. He was already chin deep in it, and this event really pushed him fully under.
Maybe Vijay had got advanced information on this, and that might be the reason why he behaved oddly during the call. Sreejith couldn't blame his brother-in-law. Anyone in Vijay's position could have done that. He was more concerned about Saumya. She would never believe that her brother would do anything such evil. But her belief didn't matter. It is evidence that mattered. Given the history of Kerala's finest, he didn't held the faintest chance of getting away now. His only hope was, unlike many other state police, those of Kerala did not generally conduct 'encounters' where they simply shoot the suspects.
His attention turned to the immediate present. He owned an answer to the man, waiting for a response. Shamsudin stood there, staring at Sreejith. The old eyes, gray with advancing cataract, was drilling deep into Sreejith, trying to find answers.
“It is not true, ikka.” Sreejith said, finding it difficult to speak, and avoiding the gaze.
“Which one? That your name is not Sanjeev?” He asked. Sreejith felt the pang of guilt, and his head dropped in shame.
“Forgive me, ikka. I had to lie. I had been through a lot recently.” He said, looking down.
“Look here, kid. Look at my face.” The man growled. “What I am asking is, whether there is any truth in what is written in that paper?”
“No, ikka. In the name of Allah, I vow that the whole news is false.” Sreejith said, putting his hand on his chest. The man visibly startled by his invoking Allah. The man's face instantaneously lost much of its hardness. The pious man couldn't make himself mistrust that.
“Then, tell me son. What happened?” He asked in a milder tone. “Why was the police looking for you, and what did they find from you?”
Sreejith let his gaze back down on the floor. He was in a dilemma. He found it extermely difficult to lie to this man. With their short acquaintance itself, he felt that it was difficult to find such a nice, honest, kind and straightforward man anywhere. But still, he couldn't let the truth out either. It is not entirely his secret, so there is no way he could disclose it, even partially.
“It was a case of a girl, ikka.” He said, his cheek turning colour.
“Girl? What happened son? Don't you worry.” He asked. Now in almost his normal, paternally caring self. He took the blushing of the boy to be a natural effect of discussing affairs of love.
“I am in love with a muslim girl, and everyone, my family, her family, all are hunting me down.” Sreejith said with a sigh. Jasmine's face appeared on the screen of his mind, and for a moment, he felt that he could smell the perfume. “What the hell!” He thought. “It could very well have happened!”.
“So, would someone make this much ruckus for a love case?” The man said, not hiding the surprise and suspicion.
“Her father is a big shot in politics and the underworld. You see, I am a hindu, and both communities oppose our relationship. He has made death threats on me, and he is using the police to prosecute that threat.” Sreejith said, mentally apologizing to Dr. Basheer for vilifying him. The man would never have objected. That thought brought a smile to him.
“Ok, Does the girl love you?” Shamsudin asked, with the mischievous smile.
“Of course! We had planned to elope, and as I waited for her, the goondas came, beat me up and took her away. She is under house arrest now. I somehow ran away with my life.” Sreejith said. “Poor thing! How much had her suffered for me!! What I undergo is nothing!”. He felt good about himself for his very convincing act.
“So, what do you plan to do now, son?” The man asked, half to himself.
“I don't know, ikka. Honestly, I don't.” Now, that was real feeling Sreejith had presently.
The bus was almost empty. Only a few seats were occupied, mostly by village folk going to town. Sreejith sat hunched on one of the seats, close to the window. The seat next to him was empty. He was wearing a white mundu, work high exposing the ankles, a full sleeved white shirt, and a turban made of white muslin. With the ample growth of the facial hair, he himself felt that his disguise is pretty good. With the application of crushed young leaves of the teak tree to his forehead, even the required mark of namaaz was complete. Anyone would take him for a young Musaliyar. The only problem was, beyond the 'assalaamu alaikum' greeting, he wouldn't be able to hold any conversation in the proper lingo to go with the attire.
The disguise was Shamsudin's idea. He had gladly donated an old set from the few he had, and categorically refused to accept any payment in return. He was very reluctant to let Sreejith go, and it took a lot of cajoling to persuade him. All these show of affection tore Sreejith's heart, because he was, once again, making a big lie out of himself. His soul couldn't find solace in that, but he didn't have a choice.
It was the morning, two days after he came to the shack. Most of his wounds had somewhat healed, and he was feeling ok, except the big wound on his leg, which, despite repeated application of various herbal concoctions that the old man made, had shown a bit of sepsis. It was bandaged using torn pieces of some old mundu. Nevertheless, he was planning to leave the place in that afternoon. Shamsudin was away, as usual, to do his job of tapping. The poor man had prepared a bowl of gruel for Sreejith for his breakfast. Sreejith went about mending the various bruises and wounds, while thinking over his approach to convince the old man to let him leave.
He was surprised to see Shamsudin come back early. He seemed to be in great hurry, and his face was flushed red. The perennial smile that adored the old wrinkled face was totally absent. He approached the charpoy where Sreejith was sitting, and threw the folded newspaper he was carrying in front of him.
Sreejith was totally taken aback by this approach. He eagerly looked at the newspaper to see what caused the excitement in the man. His own picture, blown up in size this time, was on the front page, with a four column title. Shamsudin stood there, glaring at Sreejith, like he did some utterly despicable act.
“Spy Suspect Has Terrorist Connections” Screamed the headline.
Eagerly, Sreejith scanned through the story. He was not sure if it was the creation of the reporter, or the police itself, but there was a colourful story on how the police helped the NIA in a raid looking for the absconding suspect of the spy case, and how they unearthed evidence from his hideout, connecting him to the terror network. The full force of Kerala Police was after the alleged terrorist accomplice, the report concluded.
Sreejith couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry. He was more amused than concerned. This kind of an interpretation sounded so outlandish, that it wouldn't have happened even in his wildest dreams. Obviously, the police got hold of his laptop, and took the evidence he had collected, and went way out of mark by interpreting that he was involved. He was already chin deep in it, and this event really pushed him fully under.
Maybe Vijay had got advanced information on this, and that might be the reason why he behaved oddly during the call. Sreejith couldn't blame his brother-in-law. Anyone in Vijay's position could have done that. He was more concerned about Saumya. She would never believe that her brother would do anything such evil. But her belief didn't matter. It is evidence that mattered. Given the history of Kerala's finest, he didn't held the faintest chance of getting away now. His only hope was, unlike many other state police, those of Kerala did not generally conduct 'encounters' where they simply shoot the suspects.
His attention turned to the immediate present. He owned an answer to the man, waiting for a response. Shamsudin stood there, staring at Sreejith. The old eyes, gray with advancing cataract, was drilling deep into Sreejith, trying to find answers.
“It is not true, ikka.” Sreejith said, finding it difficult to speak, and avoiding the gaze.
“Which one? That your name is not Sanjeev?” He asked. Sreejith felt the pang of guilt, and his head dropped in shame.
“Forgive me, ikka. I had to lie. I had been through a lot recently.” He said, looking down.
“Look here, kid. Look at my face.” The man growled. “What I am asking is, whether there is any truth in what is written in that paper?”
“No, ikka. In the name of Allah, I vow that the whole news is false.” Sreejith said, putting his hand on his chest. The man visibly startled by his invoking Allah. The man's face instantaneously lost much of its hardness. The pious man couldn't make himself mistrust that.
“Then, tell me son. What happened?” He asked in a milder tone. “Why was the police looking for you, and what did they find from you?”
Sreejith let his gaze back down on the floor. He was in a dilemma. He found it extermely difficult to lie to this man. With their short acquaintance itself, he felt that it was difficult to find such a nice, honest, kind and straightforward man anywhere. But still, he couldn't let the truth out either. It is not entirely his secret, so there is no way he could disclose it, even partially.
“It was a case of a girl, ikka.” He said, his cheek turning colour.
“Girl? What happened son? Don't you worry.” He asked. Now in almost his normal, paternally caring self. He took the blushing of the boy to be a natural effect of discussing affairs of love.
“I am in love with a muslim girl, and everyone, my family, her family, all are hunting me down.” Sreejith said with a sigh. Jasmine's face appeared on the screen of his mind, and for a moment, he felt that he could smell the perfume. “What the hell!” He thought. “It could very well have happened!”.
“So, would someone make this much ruckus for a love case?” The man said, not hiding the surprise and suspicion.
“Her father is a big shot in politics and the underworld. You see, I am a hindu, and both communities oppose our relationship. He has made death threats on me, and he is using the police to prosecute that threat.” Sreejith said, mentally apologizing to Dr. Basheer for vilifying him. The man would never have objected. That thought brought a smile to him.
“Ok, Does the girl love you?” Shamsudin asked, with the mischievous smile.
“Of course! We had planned to elope, and as I waited for her, the goondas came, beat me up and took her away. She is under house arrest now. I somehow ran away with my life.” Sreejith said. “Poor thing! How much had her suffered for me!! What I undergo is nothing!”. He felt good about himself for his very convincing act.
“So, what do you plan to do now, son?” The man asked, half to himself.
“I don't know, ikka. Honestly, I don't.” Now, that was real feeling Sreejith had presently.
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Dileep
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Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
Let me repeat something. Anything spoken in a language other than English is literally translated, so you might find some odd constructs. I wanted to post the translation on the blog, but time is the big problem.
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BajKhedawal
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Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
Quite often fiction is based on perceived facts; I would like to know which states you are implying here in the bolded part.Dileep wrote:Chapter 32
Given the history of Kerala's finest, he didn't held the faintest chance of getting away now. His only hope was, unlike many other state police, those of Kerala did not generally conduct 'encounters' where they simply shoot the suspects.
As an author do you actually believe that to be true enough to acknowledge it in your story? If so is your perception based on mere hearsay? Or is it Sreeejith’s perception?
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Dileep
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Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
Baj, it is Sreejith's perception, but being a fictional character, its source should be the perception developed in the author's mind only.
It is NOT a rational perception I agree. It is a perception developed from various sources, like news coverages, which openly talking about encounters, and police officers who are encounter specialists. Movies that glorify this out-of-the-system practice also contributes to the perception. It is also a fact that the Kerala police are rarely accused of this. None post the 80s in fact.
If challenged for a rational discussion on the subject, I intend to shamelessly hide behind the fig leaf of 'literary license'
It is NOT a rational perception I agree. It is a perception developed from various sources, like news coverages, which openly talking about encounters, and police officers who are encounter specialists. Movies that glorify this out-of-the-system practice also contributes to the perception. It is also a fact that the Kerala police are rarely accused of this. None post the 80s in fact.
If challenged for a rational discussion on the subject, I intend to shamelessly hide behind the fig leaf of 'literary license'
Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
Dileep wrote: If challenged for a rational discussion on the subject, I intend to shamelessly hide behind the fig leaf of 'literary license'
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BajKhedawal
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Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
Just like bollywood + commie media your story is feeding that perception, i.e. for your audience. I always read your post as soon as I notice an update on the story, inspite of an super-duper exam today I read the chapter late last night and felt like venting forgetting that artist’s are allowed to get away with even murder, hiding behind the burkha of dotty behavior. 
Seriously, love most of your work. Sometimes I skip to the action part though, a-la Chako’s “Phir kya huwaa?” That’s not to say that your description of countryside is any less interesting, love that too. But imagine a bond movie that goes suddenly all Satyajit Ray artsy on you! Or you are merrily malishing away and suddenly see a foto of jalabee.
I should stop typing, too much coffee.
Seriously, love most of your work. Sometimes I skip to the action part though, a-la Chako’s “Phir kya huwaa?” That’s not to say that your description of countryside is any less interesting, love that too. But imagine a bond movie that goes suddenly all Satyajit Ray artsy on you! Or you are merrily malishing away and suddenly see a foto of jalabee.
I should stop typing, too much coffee.
Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
Good going chetta. Please bring back more of Jasmine.
There is a "Jasmin" in my work place so I can definitely relate to what you are trying to say
There is a "Jasmin" in my work place so I can definitely relate to what you are trying to say
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Dileep
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Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
Chapter 33
Sreejith looked out of the window of the bus, as it crawled the potholed road, moving from puddle to puddle. They had picked up some more passengers en route, but the seat next to him was still vacant. Warm dry wind was blowing across the paddy fields, making the palm fronds dance like a bunch of evil shapes. The wind dried up the lips, and even the eyes, and the vision blurred often. He wiped his eyes clean with the corner of his turban and peered outside.
They were approaching a small junction where another road joined up, with a bus shelter at the corner. He noticed a white scorpio parked at the side of the road, before the shelter. A man, stylishly dressed in a blue jeans, brown leather jacket and sunglasses was standing there, leaning to the hood of the car. He looked like just walked out of a bollywood movie, and totally out of place in the village setting. As the bus approached, he took a step forward and extended the hand, signaling it to stop. The bell rang, and the bus slowed and creaked into a stop. The man did not show any hurry to get on board the bus. Instead, he stood there, and took a careful scan of the bus. Sreejith hunched further down, but kept his eyes on the man through the gap between the backrest of the seat in front of him and the pillar of the window. With a shudder, he realized that the gaze of the man had come back, now straight at him.
“Sir, get in if you are going to!” The door checker of the bus exclaimed. The man muttered something to himself and started walking to the door of the bus. It was then Sreejith noticed the bluetooth headset he was wearing. Before stepping on, he turned his head and once again stole a look at Sreejith, which was visible, despite the glasses.
Sreejith felt an insatiable urge to rise up and run for it, and he fought it back with tremendous effort. He continued his hunched posture, but monitoring the intruder closely.
The conductor approached the man, and he took a ticket, all the while keeping Sreejith in his periphery of vision. With a sudden impulse, Sreejith sat straight, put both of his hands on the bar of the backrest, and looked directly at the man. He received the ticket and change, and turned towards the back of the bus, facing Sreejith. Unable to see his eyes, Sreejith fixed his gaze directly at the sunglasses, anticipating his move. He slowly and deliberately walked down, swinging slightly to balance against the movement of the bus. He came near the seat where Sreejith was sitting and stood there, looking at him. Sreejith stared back at the imaginary eyes behind the glasses. His heart was pumping hard, and all his senses screamed him to run away. But he held on valiantly, just looking at the man.
With a sigh, the man sat down on the empty seat next to Sreejith, took out his sunglasses and hung it in the chest pocket of his jacket. He then turned the piercing eyes to meet Sreejith's. The tinge of a smile played at the corner of his lips. He was of the same age as Sreejith. A fair and handsome face, with slightly hazel, sharp but playful eyes.
“Assalaamu Alaikum, Sreejith Raghuram Musaliyar” He said with the smile widening, and extended his hand. Sreejith kept his hands on the backrest, ignoring the gesture.
“Am I under arrest?” He had to swallow a couple of times before putting that out, but he felt happy about the result.
“Not yet”, the man said. His smile, bordering on sarcasm still playing on his handsome lips.
“Where are you from? NIA, or the police? What are you going to do with me?” Sreejith asked, rather indignantly at the dramatics by the man.
“Neither. We get down at the next stop, and I would take you to meet a friend.” Saying this, he turned his face away, and signaled the conductor to stop the bus.
Sreejith noticed the Scorpio closely following the bus, and slow down to stop, along with the bus.
The man stood up, moved aside and motioned Sreejith to do the same and walk in front of him. As the surprised conductor looked on, he led Sreejith out of the bus. As the bus moved off, he opened the back door of the scorpio for Sreejith, and got in after him.
The scorpio turned around and drove away in the opposite direction.
End of Part 1
Sreejith looked out of the window of the bus, as it crawled the potholed road, moving from puddle to puddle. They had picked up some more passengers en route, but the seat next to him was still vacant. Warm dry wind was blowing across the paddy fields, making the palm fronds dance like a bunch of evil shapes. The wind dried up the lips, and even the eyes, and the vision blurred often. He wiped his eyes clean with the corner of his turban and peered outside.
They were approaching a small junction where another road joined up, with a bus shelter at the corner. He noticed a white scorpio parked at the side of the road, before the shelter. A man, stylishly dressed in a blue jeans, brown leather jacket and sunglasses was standing there, leaning to the hood of the car. He looked like just walked out of a bollywood movie, and totally out of place in the village setting. As the bus approached, he took a step forward and extended the hand, signaling it to stop. The bell rang, and the bus slowed and creaked into a stop. The man did not show any hurry to get on board the bus. Instead, he stood there, and took a careful scan of the bus. Sreejith hunched further down, but kept his eyes on the man through the gap between the backrest of the seat in front of him and the pillar of the window. With a shudder, he realized that the gaze of the man had come back, now straight at him.
“Sir, get in if you are going to!” The door checker of the bus exclaimed. The man muttered something to himself and started walking to the door of the bus. It was then Sreejith noticed the bluetooth headset he was wearing. Before stepping on, he turned his head and once again stole a look at Sreejith, which was visible, despite the glasses.
Sreejith felt an insatiable urge to rise up and run for it, and he fought it back with tremendous effort. He continued his hunched posture, but monitoring the intruder closely.
The conductor approached the man, and he took a ticket, all the while keeping Sreejith in his periphery of vision. With a sudden impulse, Sreejith sat straight, put both of his hands on the bar of the backrest, and looked directly at the man. He received the ticket and change, and turned towards the back of the bus, facing Sreejith. Unable to see his eyes, Sreejith fixed his gaze directly at the sunglasses, anticipating his move. He slowly and deliberately walked down, swinging slightly to balance against the movement of the bus. He came near the seat where Sreejith was sitting and stood there, looking at him. Sreejith stared back at the imaginary eyes behind the glasses. His heart was pumping hard, and all his senses screamed him to run away. But he held on valiantly, just looking at the man.
With a sigh, the man sat down on the empty seat next to Sreejith, took out his sunglasses and hung it in the chest pocket of his jacket. He then turned the piercing eyes to meet Sreejith's. The tinge of a smile played at the corner of his lips. He was of the same age as Sreejith. A fair and handsome face, with slightly hazel, sharp but playful eyes.
“Assalaamu Alaikum, Sreejith Raghuram Musaliyar” He said with the smile widening, and extended his hand. Sreejith kept his hands on the backrest, ignoring the gesture.
“Am I under arrest?” He had to swallow a couple of times before putting that out, but he felt happy about the result.
“Not yet”, the man said. His smile, bordering on sarcasm still playing on his handsome lips.
“Where are you from? NIA, or the police? What are you going to do with me?” Sreejith asked, rather indignantly at the dramatics by the man.
“Neither. We get down at the next stop, and I would take you to meet a friend.” Saying this, he turned his face away, and signaled the conductor to stop the bus.
Sreejith noticed the Scorpio closely following the bus, and slow down to stop, along with the bus.
The man stood up, moved aside and motioned Sreejith to do the same and walk in front of him. As the surprised conductor looked on, he led Sreejith out of the bus. As the bus moved off, he opened the back door of the scorpio for Sreejith, and got in after him.
The scorpio turned around and drove away in the opposite direction.
End of Part 1
Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
Bahut acche....
(very nice)
(very nice)
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Dileep
- BRF Oldie
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- Location: Dera Mahab Ali धरा महाबलिस्याः درا مهاب الي
Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
There ends part 1. It will take at least a week or two to start the second part.
Baj, honestly, I was not thinking of that state and those bunch of cases when I imagined the scene. Sorry it came out in a misunderstandable way.
armenon, be careful with the flowers at workplace. Yes, you will see more of JB in the second part.
Baj, honestly, I was not thinking of that state and those bunch of cases when I imagined the scene. Sorry it came out in a misunderstandable way.
armenon, be careful with the flowers at workplace. Yes, you will see more of JB in the second part.
Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
gah ! what a place to stop !
Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
today is Thursday, so the week ends in 3 more days or is it a week from today 
Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
Where is a good ol' fashion ball-and-chain when we need one? - so that we can tie it to Dileep mullah's ankle to ensure that he provides us part II of our fix asap instead of making us wait for 2-3 weeks. 
Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
A long break at this point.
Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
So JB is running the show!
I am thinking at this break time we should consolidate the story and leave the comments in another thread.
I am thinking at this break time we should consolidate the story and leave the comments in another thread.
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Dileep
- BRF Oldie
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- Location: Dera Mahab Ali धरा महाबलिस्याः درا مهاب الي
Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
The break is likely to be a bit longer, because I lost the few chapters (except the climax and epilogue which was in separate files. I need to use ArmenT tool to recover the content from the thread here now.
Maybe y'all could contribute reviews, comments, interpretations, complaints, Easter eggs, brickbats and whatnot meanwhile.
Maybe y'all could contribute reviews, comments, interpretations, complaints, Easter eggs, brickbats and whatnot meanwhile.
Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
^^No Kushpoos?
Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
So really Shani glanced at your computer!
Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
There has to be a certain "Paki" relative of Sreejith who wants to get back at him for some misunderstanding/argument/insult of the past. Everything cannot be hunky-dory in the household, the stress fractures are already apparent, only the usual suspects havent been highlighted yet!
Speaking of usual suspects, any chance of JB becoming a vengeful alpha Nena Blofeld? Or a Kaiser Soze like sting in the tail? The latter appears more likely than the former. JB may melt like butter when the twain meet up next time!
Speaking of usual suspects, any chance of JB becoming a vengeful alpha Nena Blofeld? Or a Kaiser Soze like sting in the tail? The latter appears more likely than the former. JB may melt like butter when the twain meet up next time!
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chackojoseph
- BRF Oldie
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Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
May be Jasmine. :p
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Jeff Wickline
- BRFite -Trainee
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Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
@Dileep.
Two weeks passed by, not an installment in view. When would our daily fix resume?
Have read all the past installments at least twice over. Afraid to read again as minor flaws would start glaring and I would attempt to read between lines in search of clues and spoil the fun.
Come back soon.
Two weeks passed by, not an installment in view. When would our daily fix resume?
Have read all the past installments at least twice over. Afraid to read again as minor flaws would start glaring and I would attempt to read between lines in search of clues and spoil the fun.
Come back soon.
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chackojoseph
- BRF Oldie
- Posts: 4297
- Joined: 01 Mar 2010 22:42
- Location: From Frontier India
- Contact:
Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
Then what happened Dileep cheta?
Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
Dileep saar!!!!!!!!! come back fast!!!
Re: Spy Story 4 - Glance of Saturn
we are waiting.