“Cho... Protector,” I said, grabbing his shoulder. “I have an idea.”
“What is it?” he said, visibly irritated.
“Why not ask bots to fire at the shield simultaneously?”
“Didn’t you see that it won’t work? The beam gets absorbed...”
I interrupted. “Yes, I know. But it also leaves the shield glowing for a fraction of a second. If you get all of these bots firing non-stop, the shield will glow continuously providing a cover. It will fog their field of vision and they’ll be firing half-blind.”
A smile played on Protector’s face. “Brilliant! That’s why I need you Iqbal,” he said. “We convert enemy’s biggest strength to its biggest weakness. Did you get that Smokie?”
“Always the Hunters...” bumbled Smokie.
Soon, the Hunters showered beams at the building, or more precisely, at the shield. The plan worked and the shield glowed blue creating a translucent layer in from the building.
“Buzzer, NOW!”
As the Hunters continued to fire, the next wave led by Buzzer moved forward. Other commanders gave a cover fire as Buzzer and his men made it inside the shield. And then... BOOM! A blinding explosion emanated from where the men had just entered through the shield, forcing us to close our eyes.
“Buzzer is dead, boss,” Accountant’s deep voice said.
“Land mines,” muttered Protector. His face was now distorted to the point of being scary. “I will kill Ghost with my own hands tonight.”
As Protector planned the next assault, I focused my attention on the battle. The numbers were dwindling fast. Remaining men were firing at the building without getting too close to the shield. Hunters continued to fire rapidly to create a cover for them. As another rocket exploded claiming few more of Protector’s soldiers, one of the Hunter bots wobbled due to the shock of the explosion, his imminent fire going at a steep angle passing above Vidhan Saudha, without touching the invisible shield, going forever into space.
I realized something. “You can’t win without taking out that shield,” I said to the Protector. “But the shield isn’t infinite. It only extends to a certain height above Vidhan Saudha. Do you have something that can... fly?”
He understood. “Get the bird out,” he screamed on his walkie-talkie. “You are coming with me.”
Soon, I was sitting with Protector in a helicopter flying above Vidhan Saudha. As our helicopter cut through the air, I could see the true scale of the massacre. Despite Accountant harvesting the ground, there still lay hundreds of bodies, and the snow looked more red than white. I looked at the Protector who was adjusting his rocket launcher. If this doesn’t succeed it was game over for us.
As we flew closer to Vidhan Saudha, bullets whistled past around us. Ghost’s men had spotted us. “Incooooooming,” I screamed as I noticed a rocket climbing towards us. Just in the nick of time, Pilot moved the helicopter out of the way.
“My turn, you bastard,” said Protector balancing the launcher on his shoulders. “Help me, will you?”
I moved to his back and held his shirt from one hand as he leaned on the open side of the helicopter.
“Bank it towards the right,“ Protector screamed to the pilot through the deafening winds.
And then I saw it—a large green generator on the south roof of the building that was powering the shield.
With a careful aim, Protector pressed the trigger and both of us felt a recoil, falling to the floor of helicopter. But it was a good shot. As we watched, the rocket flew straight to the south roof of Vidhan Saudha and pierced right in the middle of the generator. The entire roof lit-up in one magnificent explosion that blasted the generator and guards in a million shreds.
For a moment, nothing happened. And then all hell broke loose. The tables had turned now. Remaining soldiers charged towards the enemy with a new vigour. Smokie unleashed the wrath of his Hunters and went on a killing spree. With a methodical precision, bots went about systematically cleaning all the floors of Ghost’s men. They managed to take down one or two bots by sheer chance but mostly their aim only met empty air where a bot was hovering ‘three seconds ago’. By the time our helicopter landed in the middle of the ground, amongst cheering soldiers, all enemy firing had been silenced.
Protector did firm handshakes with his remaining commanders and hugged Smokie.
“Don’t forget my hunters, boss,” Smokie said. I was sure he was more regretful for the loss of his bots than his men.
“I will not, Smokie,” said the Protector.
Protector ascended the stairs of Vidhan Saudha like a victor with rest of us following him. Above us, those five historical words above the main entrance shone in the artificial light: GOVERNMENT WORK IS GOD’S WORK.
“Hey, boss. I thought Government never worked,” said Smokie, who was bleeding from a cut and lighting yet another smoke.
“Yeah. Neither did God.”
We climbed up the marble staircase to the third floor and made our way through the corridors of the Vidhan Saudha. There were several office rooms on our left where panicked soldiers had tried to hide. Now, Hunters hovered above their dead bodies. For the first time I saw Ghost’s men up close, they were armed well but apart from the uniforms didn’t look any different from Protector’s men.
“Send them for processing,” Protector ordered. We made our way to the north-most end of the aisle that ended up facing a particularly large wooden door which stood closed.
“Boss, this area was quite thick. I myself downed three guys,” said a soldier pointing at some bodies.
“Ghost must be inside with the DAMES,” Protector said. “Break the door and send the men in. But shoot only if you have a clear shot. I don’t want any stray shots messing with my device.”
One man planted a sticky bomb at the door and others took cover. Once it blasted in a mild explosion making a hole in the middle of the door, several smoke bombs were thrown inside. Then, couple of soldiers dived inside in cover of smoke… few gunshots were heard after which one of the guys shouted, “CLEAR”.
Protector was the first to go in followed by me, Smokie and other commanders. As the smoke cleared, fallen bodies of Ghost’s guys became visible in a particularly large room. Some paintings and old photographs that hung on the grand walls showed the central hall of the parliament assembly in session from the foregone era, couldn’t have looked more out of place.
Ignoring everything else, Protector walked up to a man writhing in his own pool of blood. He sat with his back on a bloodied wall. His white beard had some traces of black but even in his dying moments, his face radiated with intelligence. He tried to sit exerting weight on his right hand that carried a gun. Protector promptly kicked the gun away and crouched to look him in the eye.
“You almost beat me, Ghost,” he said calmly. “But it’s over now. Where is DAMES?”
“No ‘Hellos’ Protector? Is this how you deal now?” said Ghost gasping for air. A stream of blood flowed from the corner of his mouth.
“You thought you can sneak it through my territory. C’mon...”
Ghost let out a weak smile and his teeth showed. They were filled with blood.
“Do you have a smoke?”
Protector nodded. Smokie took out of one his cigarettes from his mouth and slowly put it on Ghost’s lips. Ghost took a deep puff.
“Now tell me, where is DAMES?”
Ghost weekly pointed at a small door to the anteroom.
“How do you trigger it?”
“Trigger it? Ha ha ha ha...” Ghost said while belching. Another gush of blood came out of his mouth. “You don’t know what it is then. Well, you’ll know when you see it. You can trust me. You know what they say about dying man’s words.”
Protector nodded. “Any last wishes?”
“When you process me. Eat me with respect.” Ghost replied.
“Will do, Ghost.” Protector cocked the gun. Ghost closed his eyes. “Goodbye.”
A single bullet was fired, and Gh
ost’s head rolled to one side.
Me and Protector cautiously opened the door and found ourselves in a small anteroom. The lights were dim, and I squinted my eyes to look for a device. There was a small table in one corner, above which an oval mirror hung with finely embroidered wooden frame. In front of the mirror, a silhouette of a feminine figure sat on a small chair in a white bridal dress.
At that moment, a light switch was flicked, and light flooded the room. Once my eyes coped with the bright light, the reflection in the mirror came into focus and my heart leaped. The woman in the bridal dress, sitting still on the lone chair with heavy make-up on had aged a bit since I last saw her. But, unmistakably it was...
“Shazia?”
She turned as if in half-sleep. Her beautiful eyes looked into distance through me as if I didn’t exist. I called her again but her stony facial expression didn’t change.
“Dames will serve the master,” she said mechanically.
And then it dawned on me. I screamed in horror as the true meaning of those words hit my head like a hammer: Dames with all parts intact.
My head spinned as I grappled with what Shazia had become – a sole object of pleasure in this dystopian world. She didn’t qualify as a human but merely a ‘device’ that was only a body, an empty shell, ‘with all parts intact’ but no soul. I fell to my knees and tears rolled down my cheeks as I held her hand looking at her. She looked blankly at me.
“Hey, boss where is that device –“said Smokie as his eyes fell on Shazia “- WHOA! Th... That’s an A+ boss... no even better... it’s a female A+.”
Protector too looked at Shazia intently. “This is the DAMES, Smokie.” He came closer to her, his eyes never leaving Shazia. Shazia dark red lips parted again, “Dames will serve the master,” she said in an enchanted voice.
Protector moved even closer as if hypnotized. “I have no doubts that you will,” said Protector with a changed tone. “No wonder you are worth so much.” He extended his decrepit and blistered hand towards her.
“Noooo,” I screamed, putting myself between them. “This is Shazia. Don’t you recognize her?”
Protector turned to me. “No, I don’t. The Shazia you knew is not there anymore. This is just Dames.”
“Shazia, please tell him. Please.” I cried.
“Dames will serve the master,” came the reply.
“C’mon Iqbal. Please get out of my way. This is no time for sentimentality. It is my reward for which so many of my men have died. This is my path to becoming an Overlord,” he said. “Although I’m half-inclined to sacrifice Overlordship just to keep it.”
“She is not ‘it’. This is her. And her name is Shazia.” I took Shazia’s head in my arms. Everything I did was to protect her. And yet, I failed her in the most horrible way. I couldn’t even imagine what she had gone through in last fifteen years. I felt anger inside me that was directed towards the other Iqbal, who was now laughing at me. He had won, and I had lost. But then I saw myself in his face. He was me. He was ME. I had done this to her.
“It’s a tool, Iqbal. With this tool, I can get whatever I want. And if you are the one standing between me and my dream then it’s an easy choice to make. I am sorry.”
He pulled out his gun without hesitation. As the trigger closed in, time slowed to a bare crawl. The hammer of the gun tilted back, and cylinder rotated; a bullet shot out through the nozzle and became bigger and bigger. Death was near. I closed my eyes. I had failed. I saw my entire life flashing before me – all the important moments… all those small joys… and the big sorrows went past - I was beyond my body and looking at myself at Shantiniketan. I was a small kid hiding behind the trees as Abba searched for me. I giggled as Abba threw me in the air. Then, the evening turned to night as I saw Dara and Bura running after me with Jaggu dada screaming behind them. The scene morphed into the bicycle shop where Shazia stood smiling... she didn’t say anything but just waited there... looking at me with her kind eyes... and then I saw myself coming from behind her with a burning torch... she screamed at me... at me... she wasn’t asking for help... she was asking for reasons. I tried to push myself from doing anything bad to her, but my body just floated around her like a ghost... unable to do anything... I wished I could stop myself... I now knew how I could... I wished I had just one more chance. I could feel the bullet penetrating my skin of my forehead burning its layers. Death was almost there. I wished I just had one more chance. Not for my life. But for hers.
And then, I woke up.
###
“Everything that has a beginning has an end. But sometimes, just sometimes, beginning is the end.”
– A Time Traveller’s Diary
###
I now know what needs to be done. All this time – I was trying to fight myself. I was trying to run away from something that I knew existed deep within my heart. Something primal and basic. The answer was always in front of me all along, but I was the one denying it. I was always thinking of ways to defeat a man who was no-one but myself –it seemed impossible, for there was no way except one where a man can defeat himself.
All those attempts, I was trying to change the destiny. But I had no control over destiny. The only thing I had control over was myself, and the other Iqbal was a living proof that that control was not nearly enough. The only way to change destiny was to eliminate the prime mover itself. The prime mover that set all things in motion and the events that led to a horrible future.
All this time I was questioning myself – Why it was I who was chosen? I thought the answer was that it was I who possessed this power. But the answer was much more fundamental. I was chosen because it was I who had started all this. And if something needs to change, it was not the Universe that will change its destiny to what I sought. It was I who must change mine.
I am also aware of this newfound power inside me. I can travel... not just back to the day when the bomb went off—but far. I can travel to the future where the world simply becomes unrecognizable and I can travel to the past where the world didn’t exist at all. But neither of those journeys can help me, for I’ll be a mere spectator in both of those times, doing nothing to prevent the pain and suffering that I’d cause to my loved ones. No. I need to travel to a specific day in the past. That is the day where I have the control. That is the only day that was truly mine. That is the day where there was only one me. The day when I was born.
###
Date: 11th September 2005
Place: Shantiniketan Orphanage
The sky was overcast, and cold breeze preceded the imminent rain. Sun had just passed the zenith, its brilliance shadowed by the dark clouds. Shantiniketan orphanage seemed to be the only sign of human activity amidst the thick of nature, miles away from the city in every direction. The street adjacent to it was deserted, its silence occasionally breached by a rare vehicle.
Well-hidden behind the cover of trees, I waited on the opposite side of the road. I felt tired and my body felt weak, and yet I felt an unparalleled rush for what I was about to do. I looked around for any sign of him. He wasn’t there. He couldn’t be.
A lone girl quickened through the street with an umbrella in her hand. Perhaps she was in a hurry to reach her home before the rain started. A bike caught up to her and stopped with a screech.
“Please don’t leave like this Sonam,” the biker pleaded.
“I told you Iqbal, I can’t be with you anymore,” she brushed past him.
The biker caught up with her again.
“But I need answers. Please.”
“You need answers, Iqbal? You bloody cheat. I know about your affair. And to think that I was planning of spending my life with you… get lost now and never call me again.” Her face glowed red with anger.
The biker named Iqbal became defensive immediately. “I… It was just a fling… a big mistake. I am so sorry. I promise this will never happen again.”
“It sure won’t because I am breaking up with you,” the girl said throwing a bunch of pa
pers on his face. “And here are your worthless love-letters that you wrote for me. I was such an idiot that trusted your manipulating words and saved them with my life. Go to hell, Iqbal.”
As the girl walked away, the boy, who shared my name, stood dumbfounded holding a bunch of letters in his hand. Then slowly, he tore away the letters, and rode away in the opposite direction.
I watched the curious event with amusement, dismissed it, and turned my attention back to the orphanage.
When the street was deserted again, a car stopped at the main gate of the orphanage and a man in a black hat climbed out of it. I peered out more to see his face, but he wore sun-glasses and kept his head low. He looked around twice in every direction to make sure he was alone, and then carefully opened the back door of his car. He took out a tiny Moses basket from the back seat, and a small baby let out a faint chuckle as the wind outside caressed him gently. The man carried the basket and carefully placed it just inside the main gate of the orphanage, gave a kiss to the new-born and walked back to his car, with rays of the sun gleaming from the tears on his cheeks.
I wanted to talk to him. To see his face... the man who had abandoned me. Was he my father? I controlled that urge, for I had one last mission to finish. He sat in his car and hastened away not looking back at the baby even once.
As the car drove past the spot where the couple was quibbling, the torn pieces of their love letters were thrown up in the air. One small scrap, as I watched, got caught in a gust of particularly strong wind, flew further up and gently floated inside the bassinet. In one final irony of the fate, I finally found out how I was named. The one thing that I thought was my parent’s gift… was just a footnote of a love-letter. But, it didn’t matter now.
123 Tomorrows Page 20