The Bard of Blood (26 page)

19 September 2014

Ahmedabad, Gujarat

The sound of the gunshot still resonated in Kabir’s ears. His eyes were closed. His bloody face twitched and then curled into a smile
. Yes. It’s the right sound.
He tilted his head, opened his eyes, and saw what he wanted to see.
The right kind of gun makes the right kind of sound. Isha has made it in time.

Vikramjit had fallen to the ground. His left hand clutched his right one as he shrieked in anguish. Tears of pain rolled down. His hand was nearly blown off. It hung loosely, his cracked bone held together by a few thick strands of sinew. His body convulsed violently in a spreading pool of blood. Kabir looked to his right, at the area where the flimsy door had once stood. Isha still held her pistol in position, about to fire one final shot.

‘NO!’ Kabir bellowed. ‘Don’t shoot!’

She looked at Kabir and lowered her gun. She ran to him hurriedly and helped him up. Kabir was on his feet, shaking uncontrollably.

‘Were you able to bring the bomb here?’

She looked at her watch and nodded affirmatively.

‘We have exactly a minute and twelve seconds, Kabir. Let’s get the hell out of here!’

He yelled at her. ‘You weren’t supposed to come up!’

‘Come on, quick! We can make it out in time!’

Vikramjit’s painful roar brought a wide grin to Kabir’s crimson face. He staggered towards him and bent down on his haunches. He took the rifle that had fallen to the ground and placed it in Vikramjit’s lap. He looked at Vikramjit’s pale face, laced with blood that trickled down from his head.

‘Kabir, hurry!’

Kabir’s eyes bore into Vikramjit’s. Vikramjit’s mouth was agape and stayed frozen there.

‘There are fifty-five seconds to the bomb,’ Kabir whispered. ‘Unless you can take the shot with your toes, I would advice you to say your last prayers. Here, let me help you.’

He pulled Vikramjit’s right hand and took his left and joined them by their sides. Vikramjit’s painful bellow was music to his ears. Kabir’s grin grew wider.

‘There you go. I’ve made your job easier! Fold your hands, say your prayers to a God who’s about to send you to Hell. The bomb is on the floor right under this one. This time, though, you won’t be able to trick me and run away. You like outwitting people, don’t you? Let’s see you weasel your way out of this one, you bastard.’

Vikramjit’s eyes widened as his body began to shake violently. He began to foam at the mouth.

‘Like you said a few minutes ago. This is God’s script. And,
I am the hero
!’

Isha pulled Kabir away by his blood-soaked vest. She put his arm around her shoulder and helped him move quickly. ‘We have forty seconds left! We have to hurry!’

They scampered over the debris and broken stone. Isha transferred some of Kabir’s body weight on to her as they climbed down the stairs. She dragged him to the lift and pushed him in. She pressed the large red button to take them down. Kabir lay on the floor, smiling at her. Her face was worried as the lift began to move sluggishly at first and then gained speed.

‘Why are you smiling?’ she asked worriedly, looking at her watch.

‘You look prettier when you’re hassled,’ he replied.

‘We have ten seconds before the bomb goes off, Kabir!’ she said. ‘We might not make it down in time! Hold on to the side of the grilles!’

She realized Kabir was in a critical condition and needed immediate medical help. A hundred thoughts flashed through her mind as she weighed all the possibilities. Kabir, on the other hand, was blank. The lift had just crossed the fifth floor. The bomb went off.

They heard a loud thud, a sound very similar to the one made by a thundercloud. The deafening explosion was a high-intensity one. They felt the lift oscillate violently. And then the cord snapped, sending them plummeting to the ground. They felt the reverberations. They were about to hit the ground in a millisecond. But they gripped the side of the lifts. And then suddenly, their bodies bounced off the ground and hit the ceiling of the lift.

Nihar saw the lift hit the ground. He saw Kabir and Isha get thrown about like toy figurines. In his mind he hoped for the best. He prayed they’d survive. He rushed to see that Kabir lay on the metal floor, stirring slightly. His eyes were closed, his mouth open. Isha stirred slightly as Nihar summoned a medic team. They lifted Kabir quickly and hurried away with him on a stretcher. Nihar and another policeman lifted them up and began to run outside the compound. A load of debris came falling down. Behind them, the other lift came rocketing down, too. There was a cloud of dust and a shower of glass and stones as the building began to finally give up.

‘Quick! The building will collapse completely any moment!’

As they moved away, they saw six floors on top of the incomplete building crumble down like a sandcastle into nothing but a heap of construction material.

Nihar got into his car and called Joshi immediately. ‘Yes, sir. Kabir and Isha are being rushed to the hospital. It was Kabir’s plan, sir. He asked us to transfer the bomb to this construction site and put it in the building as soon as we could and then evacuate the area. He had planned to stall the assassin for long enough until it went off. Isha went up and brought him down in the nick of time. Yes, very good, sir. He’s in extremely poor condition. Will he survive? I hope for the best.’

Kabir was in an ambulance that was being driven to a nearby hospital. Isha lay beside him. She realized she may have fractured a few bones. She had great difficulty moving. She turned to look at Kabir, whose face remained impassive. His body smelled of stale blood. The medics checked him for a pulse. It was faint. His heart rate was below normal on the electrocardiogram. Tears rolled down Isha’s cheek. He opened his eyes, turned to look at her and smiled.

‘Your life is nothing short of a Shakespearean drama, Kabir Anand,’ said Isha, her voice husky with emotion. ‘Revenge, betrayal, dignity, indignity . . . You’ve seen it all.’

‘Come here.’ Kabir choked and then burst into a bout of violent coughing. He gestured Isha to bring her head closer. He held the back of her head gently and pressed his lips on her forehead. She smelled the coppery blood, and smiled back.

The medics held him still and injected him with a serum. They wiped the blood and tied his open wounds up with tourniquets. He opened his mouth to speak again and then realized he was too weak to utter a word. He gasped for air. He closed his eyes as he felt a darkness overpower him . . .

All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts . . .

1 October 2014

RAW HQ, New Delhi

Isha and Nihar were in Arun Joshi’s cabin. He had briefed them about what was about to happen. About who had killed Sadiq Sheikh and how it all added up, once the missing link—Vikramjit Singh—was discovered.
Vikramjit didn’t work alone. All these years that bastard mole was right under our noses and we never knew it. And now he has defected. He’s living a happy life. But not for long . . .

Isha looked at her watch. ‘Do you think he’ll come?’

‘It’s been over an hour since we’ve been here,’ Nihar said, tapping his feet impatiently.

Joshi, however, was in a genial mood. ‘Don’t worry.’ He smiled. ‘He will come. He’d be foolish not to. It’s the reason he signed up for this in the first place.’

Joshi’s phone rang. It was his secretary. He looked at the phone and shrugged. He pressed a button and without waiting for the secretary to say anything, said: ‘Send him in.’

A few seconds later the door opened. The man in front of them stood a little under six feet. He wore a white shirt and grey trousers. His beard was neat, and his ashen hair was tied up in a short ponytail. The eyes beneath his arched eyebrows were cold. His face was impassive. He limped in with the help of a crutch. He reeked of musk, in an attempt to overpower the smell of the balms and medicine he had to apply on his injuries. He acknowledged Isha and Nihar with a nod. It had been fifteen days since he had seen them last.

‘Named your kid, yet?’ he addressed Nihar with a smile.

‘Yes.’ Nihar smiled. ‘I named him Veer. I hope he is as brave as the real one.’

There was a minute of solemn silence. Joshi adjusted his spectacles.

‘It’s good to have you back, Kabir.’

‘It’s good to be back, sir.’

Joshi looked at Kabir, motioning to the empty chair. A lot had happened since his face-off with Vikramjit Singh on top of that building.

‘I have a proposition for you, Kabir.
We
have a proposition for you.’

Kabir let out a deep breath. ‘Sir, if you wouldn’t mind, I need a cup of black coffee.’

‘That can wait,’ Joshi said flatly. ‘So, Abdullah Abdullah and Ashraf Ghani have signed a power-sharing agreement, with the latter being named President, and Abdullah taking on an important position in the government. This could either be good or bad for the dynamics of world politics. Only time will tell us about how the Taliban continue and what America’s next move is.’

Kabir nodded tersely, wanting to tell Joshi he knew, but not meaning to be rude.

‘Do you know about the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant, Kabir?’

‘I happen to read the newspapers, sir. But I’m afraid I haven’t bothered to catch up much since we got back from Balochistan.’

‘So then you all know that the self-proclaimed caliph, Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, is trying to bring all the Muslim-inhabited regions under ISIS’s political control. And, well, he is the new self-proclaimed Amir al-Mu’minin.’

‘Well, even I’m contemplating calling myself that now.’

‘In fact, ISIS is a direct threat to India. Those few Indian boys who left to join will soon multiply into many more. We may just be on the edge of falling into a deadly abyss.’

‘Haven’t we been there before, sir?’

‘I’ll cut to the chase, Kabir. I would like to thank you, Isha, Nihar and Veer for the exceptional job that you all have done. For the bravery that you all have shown. For the selflessness that you all have displayed. For the sacrifices that you all, especially Veer, have made. Right from Balochistan to the attempt on President Bocheng. I have already discussed my plan with Isha and Nihar.’

Kabir looked sideways at Isha and Nihar. They avoided looking back at him.

‘Investigations have suggested that this entire plan was orchestrated by the ISI well in advance. They had planned an explosion at a mall in Pune, as Isha knows. Followed by the incident at the metro station. And then they got wind of the high-level meeting between President Bocheng and the PM, thanks to the insider. We are a country with dangerous enemies, Kabir. Enemies who will stop at nothing to see us go up in flames.’

Kabir retained a sphinx-like expression. Joshi’s eyes were expressive.

‘I want you to be in charge of a small covert team that is completely off the books. You will have all support from the government. Your team will consist of highly trained military commandos and will have direct access to RAW.’

Joshi let the words linger in the air as he gazed at Kabir. Kabir matched his gaze with an equally piercing stare.

‘My children are waiting to be taught Shakespeare, sir.’

Joshi smiled and leaned back in his chair.

‘Let me know if you change your mind, Kabir. The country is at great risk with the various elements of terror raising their ugly heads.’

Kabir remained quiet. Nihar and Isha looked straight at Joshi.

‘Anyway,’ Joshi broke the silence, as he stood up, ‘it was great working with you, Kabir Anand.’

Kabir stood up and extended his hand, which Joshi shook firmly.

‘Likewise, sir.’

Isha and Nihar stood up, ready to leave the cabin. Joshi nodded to them briefly, indicating that he wanted to speak to Kabir in private. They thanked him and walked out. Joshi pulled out a brown folder from his drawer.

‘You have a loose end to tie up,’ Joshi said. ‘And don’t worry, you’ll get your fix of black coffee outside.’

Kabir swallowed lightly as he balanced himself on his crutch. Joshi held the brown envelope firmly, keeping it close to him.

‘I hope you’re off the painkillers, Kabir.’

Kabir looked a little surprised.

‘Isha told me,’ Joshi said, addressing his furrowed brow. ‘She’s concerned about you. And it would be a pity if you died of an overdose of painkillers after defying death at every step that you took in the past few days.’

‘I will stop, sir.’

Joshi’s lips curled into a half-smile as he held the brown folder forward.

‘Your passport, cover IDs and two tickets for an all-expenses-paid trip to Dubai.’

‘Two tickets?’

‘Coincidentally, Isha is also in the mood for a holiday,’ said Joshi, smiling knowingly.

Kabir smiled back. And then Joshi’s smile vanished.

‘Make sure he gets the death he deserves.’

‘You can count on that.’

Kabir turned and began to walk away.

‘I wish you the best, Kabir Anand. And think about my offer.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Kabir shut the door firmly behind him. He had no intentions of going in ever again or thinking about any offer.

Kabir got out of the sedan and nodded at the driver. He rested on his crutch as he frowned to himself. He looked at the rusty gate, slightly ajar. He leaned ahead and pushed himself forward. The door creaked as he pushed it and limped in. The leaves rustled under his feet as he looked down at the brown mounds strewn with rose petals. Kabir put his hand in his trouser pocket and pulled out a little plastic bag. He stepped gingerly past a fresh mound of soil and stopped in front of a spot that was relatively flat. The chirping of sparrows punctuated the silent evening.

‘
Salaam aleikum
, Sadiq Sahab.’ A lump formed in his throat as he dropped his crutch and sat down beside the mound. He looked at it for a few more seconds.

Nothing can we call our own but death

And that small model of the barren earth

Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.

‘You were a brave man, sir. You inspired me. At my best, I couldn’t be half as good as you were.’

Kabir picked up a yellow leaf and looked at it. He closed his eyes as he remembered the first time he had met Sadiq. He was a hard man to impress on the training ground. And while the others were trying to work hard to show Sadiq how good they were, Kabir worked to prove it to himself. Sadiq liked that about him. Kabir found the corners of his eyes moistening.

‘I apologize if I ever did something you didn’t approve of. You were like a father to me.’ His voice trailed away. ‘And you still are.’

He sat there for another five minutes, enjoying the calm of the graveyard. He pulled out a handful of rose petals from the plastic bag and dropped them evenly all over the mud under which Sadiq’s body decomposed peacefully.

‘They were right in front of us, and the two of us couldn’t recognize the two of them. They did their jobs well, sir. And Vikramjit is dead now, for real.’

He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

‘I promise you one thing. The other bastard won’t live for long either. He is going to pay for what he has done, in the worst possible way.’

He clutched a handful of soil and let it slip through his hands, back on to the mound. He pushed himself off the ground and picked up his crutch.

‘Until we meet again, sir.
Khuda hafiz
.’

He trudged out with a heavy heart. But he was more determined than ever to kill the bastard who did this. He opened the door of the parked sedan and got in.

3 October 2014

Mumbai

Kabir had waited another day at New Delhi before he flew back to Mumbai with Isha. They went straight to his apartment. They had a quick lunch and spent some time together, after which she left for Pune to meet her mother. Kabir, on the other hand, hoped to go back to the college to have a word with the Principal. After that Isha and Kabir planned to meet again in the evening and spend the night until they had to travel.

Kabir went to the college. He was able to walk better than before, but still felt he needed the crutch. The watchman wished him a good afternoon. Kabir acknowledged him with a curt nod. He walked up the dusty wooden staircase and through the stony corridor before stopping outside the Principal’s cabin. He knocked sharply. There was no response. A peon passing by informed him that the Principal was on his rounds since the examinations were on, and he was taking a round of the classrooms to check if everything was in order. Kabir thanked him and walked towards the classes. He passed by the examination halls. The students, distracted at the drop of a hat, looked at him and then at each other.

One mumbled to another, ‘Ha, one game of football and he’s got a crutch.’

Kabir continued walking till he saw the tall Principal in a classroom. The Principal turned around and his eyes widened in surprise. He walked out with his characteristic stoop.

‘Hello, sir,’ Kabir said. ‘It’s been a while.’

‘Kabir, the way you left baffled all of us! And what has happened to your leg?’

‘I wish I could tell you, sir.’

‘What was it with the PMO? Why did they call you?’

‘I’m not at liberty to say, sir.’

‘Why are you here, Kabir?’

Kabir arched his eyebrows.

‘I would like to continue teaching the kids, starting next semester.’

The Principal looked thoughtfully at him.

‘Will there be any more phone calls?’

‘Only if you don’t take me back,’ Kabir quipped.

‘I’ve got a very good teacher to step in,’ the Principal said. He turned around and gestured to a lady dressed in a crisp shirt and long skirt to join them. She walked towards them quickly.

‘This is Professor Pallavi Pawar,’ said the Principal, introducing them. ‘And this is Professor Kabir Anand. He taught the kids literature before you were asked to fill in.’

There was an awkward silence. Professor Pawar broke the silence.

‘Does that mean my services aren’t needed any more?’

‘No.’ The Principal smiled. ‘Since the both of you are so good at what you do, you get to divide the workload and teach the kids.’

Kabir’s face relaxed into a dimpled smile. He didn’t want the poor lady to lose her job because of him. But he wasn’t feeling generous enough to let her have it at his expense.

‘Is that okay, Kabir?’

‘As long as I teach Shakespeare, I have no problem.’

The Principal smoothed his wavy grey hair and smiled. He began to walk away to check the other classes.

‘See you next semester, then.’

Kabir and Professor Pawar stood looking at each other.

‘Well,’ Kabir said, smiling, ‘you can take over the poetry bit of the subject.’