The Backup

Since as long as one can remember, humans have tried to conquer the unconquerable. It’s in their nature to do exactly what they are forbidden to do or is termed impossible. They told Eve she couldn’t have the apple, they told the Wright brothers they couldn’t fly, they told Neil Armstrong he couldn’t walk on the moon and well, we all know what happened there.

And similarly, they told Akshat Verma he couldn’t travel across time. He did not take no for an answer and, as is not very hard to guess, did travel across time. Who would have guessed that after all the attempts and theories by Stephen Hawkings, Carl Sagan, Igor Novikov and the likes, it turned out to be a 35 year old, down-on-his-luck, almost broke Indian who still lived in his parent’s garage who finally conquered time. It was really simple after all, the time travel thing. It didn’t take fancy physics laws or parallel universes to figure out the single most seemingly impossible feat that was time travel. It turned out that if you just set yourself on a really fast motion, ten times the speed of light, you defy the laws of nature and cross the barriers of time and space. You travel across time - so to say - without biologically aging. This epiphany dawned on him when he was merely 20, fresh out of his teens, while he was reading a book on cars, which used to be a sort of passion for him at that time. The contents of the said book and how he managed to figure out how to surmount the insurmountable forms the part of another story but the fact remained that it did work; even though it took him 15 years to finally put his theory to test. 15 years to make a machine that actually could travel faster than light, ten times faster at that. He would have made such a machine in 7 years, but when he was almost through, he realized it would be very difficult to actually travel any distance at that speed. He almost gave up and was contemplating suicide, when he realized that it wasn’t necessary to go the distance. All it would take is to reach the speed. So the machine has to be designed in a way, which makes him move at more than the speed of light.

So he made a machine, which just rotated at the speed of 3x10⁹ m/sec. It was, by far, the most amazing invention in the history of, ironically, time. But regrettably, no one ever came to know of its existence. That is, no one until now.

The so-called time machine had two major flaws. The first being: the travel left you extremely nauseous for days. And the second, it didn’t travel back in time. The catch was that you can make time (in this case, yourself) move as fast as you want, but you can’t go back. The classic scenario; no one can go back in time. That, Akshat thought, is something truly impossible.

So, after the machine was complete, it was time to test it. Akshat knew that if once he uses the machine, there is no coming back. Literally. But has anyone who has achieved such an impossible feat ever contemplated not testing his own invention?

So, on his 35^th birthday when he had finally finished his chef-d'oeuvre, Akshat Verma decided to be the first ever man to travel to the future. He chose the year 2189 A.D. as his target year mainly for three reasons: One, he didn’t want to travel to a time too far away for he really didn’t believe that humans could survive longer than that. Two, he didn’t want to go into a time, which will be drastically different from the 21^st century both language-wise and evolution-wise. And three, because his birthday fell on 2^nd January’89. We don’t know how his journey was and how exactly did he manage to operate the machine. But we do know of one thing, all he took along with him was his journal and many packets of Uncle Chips (he did not trust the future food). We also know one more thing; he finally made it into the future.

Future is weird. Once Akshat got over his initial bout of nausea and time-travel sickness, this was his first thought. Nothing was like it was shown in the movies. Nothing was silver and there were no flying robots. Even the moon was intact. For two days he didn’t step out of his machine. He did not see any people around. All he saw were little, round, car-like vehicles buzzing around the streets. They were made out of a black coloured metal and seem to float on the roads rather than move on any wheels. The buildings were also made up of the same black metallic substance. They were very broad and tall and had no windows. Akshat’s time machine was sandwiched in a sort of alley between two buildings.

After two days of gazing open-mouthed at the cars and buildings and intervals of puking through the small window in the machine, he finally mustered up enough courage to get out. It was blazing hot outside, even for Indian standards. He hoped he was still in India; the time machine does not change its place while the travel. He got out of the alley and started walking out in the streets. His skin started sweltering in the scorching heat. A car zoomed past and then stopped at a distance. It came back and stopped in front of him. A small window sized space spread out on the metal and a head wearing a helmet popped out. It said in a girl’s voice Ze vyn quiqqa (are you crazy)? To which Akshat blurted: what?

The helmet head looked confused (yes, he could tell), and then after a moment’s pause, the metallic car opened up to make a small door. Inside, fast. The voice said. Akshat got inside the ridiculous car at once; partly because his skin was almost singed and partly because he was glad that someone was making contact.

The inside of the car was very wide and spacious. It didn’t have a steering wheel or any gear system. All it had were numerous screens – among which one was indicating the speed and another what seemed like the battery level indicator. Do you speak English? Or Hindi, maybe? Akshat asked cautiously. I do. But what I’d like to know is why don’t you speak ULU? She snapped at him. Ullu? Owl? What? Akshat was confused. He thought they are never going to get across the small talk phase if she kept on asking the questions. So he thought it was better that he explained it to her what exactly was going on.

Listen, so here’s the deal. I am from the past. I kinda invented the time machine. I need to speak to the highest scientific authority in this place. Can you take me to that person? Akshat asked, hopefully. She looked at him incredulously, at least the helmet head did. Okay. Hold tight. The car zoomed ahead so fast that Akshat was almost thrown back.

This was one good thing about the future, Akshat later realized. No one was surprised when he told him he had invented a machine that traveled ahead in time. They took it as another scientific fact. First he feared that someone had already invented such a machine and was not stupid enough to travel without even informing anyone in his time about the invention. But fortunately, that was not so. The human intellect had progressed to such great heights by that time that they had finally acknowledged what Adidas had been preaching all along, impossible is nothing. They would accept anything you told them if it had logic behind it. The helmet head girl believed him and so did the fifty-three scientists he had to talk to before being sent to the Chief Scientist. Do you realize what could have happened to you if Nii hadn’t found you? was the first question he asked after he explained every excruciating detail about the time travel process to the balding old man. Er, I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was doing something wrong, he replied.

Well, you were. Roaming around in the streets without Ray-Gear, that too in the middle of The War. We don’t have any ozone layer to protect your neck anymore. The satellite-guards can only hold up those rays so that they don’t blow the planet up. But of course you wouldn’t know, would you? You come from the time of countries and states, long before the Unification when people still spoke a different language at every step and still believed in that absurd Darwin theory! The Chief Scientist (or as he was called, Prolla Sheirr) spat. You don’t believe in evolution anymore? Akshat asked, incredulously.

The most worthless theory, if I ever heard one. Anyway, which year are you from? Prolla Sheirr asked him. 2024. I came up with the travel theory in 2010. Akshat said. He was about to ask the Sheirr about the startling discovery that replaced poor evolution when he was asked, What did you do? Were you in some kind of religious sect like the primitive Indians?

Well, Akshat said, that is none of your business. We Indians weren’t just about religion. I was a computer engineer, if you must know and a quite brilliant one at that.

What happened soon after he spoke this sentence was a whirlwind. Suddenly the Prollo Sheirr was immensely interested in him. He was taken to a room that Akshat assumed was a modern day hotel suite. He was given a royal treatment for three entire days. The future people had stopped having natural food as no plant had survived the ozone depletion. They now grew food and oxygen in small units called Veptas, which was supplied to him by modern day waiters and air conditioners respectively. One thing he was glad to note, however, was that the best thing in his time had prevailed. Not love, no, but alcohol.

Three days later Akshat was taken unto Sheirr’s office again. We kind of need your help. We have a system from near your time and we need to solve this minor glitch. So that’s what it was about, all that royal treatment. Ha! So you aren’t that great after all. Sheirr ignored Akshat and went on, I think I might need to tell you about the situation now seeing that you come from primitive times.

After three hours of rambling on, Prollo Shreirr left Akshat dumbfounded. Apparently the year he had so fondly chosen wasn’t exactly the best time to be in. There were many, many things wrong with it.

• 1. There were no longer countries and states anymore. The entire world was divided into Units and Sub-units after a phenomenon called the Great Unification took place. They were all governed by a central body resembling the United Nations only much more powerful. Very, very powerful. They all spoke one language called ‘Unified Linguistic Unit’ or ULU.
• 2. The currency money had turned obsolete, as there is no paper anymore due to the extinction of trees.
• 3. The currency now was just a set of digits in the accounts of the Citizens as they were called. It was like plastic money system, even cards were almost the same. All the transactions took place through a single banking unit called BSID – the full form of which Akshat didn’t ask. It held records of every single transaction, all the assets, and all the bank account balances of every citizen made till now. It was an invention made by an Indian guy named Rohan Ahuja in the year 2084. It was considered to be an infallible, unfaltering and foolproof system. They said it could not, would not stop working. That’s something impossible. It needed no electricity, no fuel to power itself. The system could not fail, no matter what.
• 4. Three months before Akshat came here, there was a meteor crash and the entire BSID was reduced to a pile of rubble.

Now you’d think that a civilization as advanced as this one would have a backup for such an occurrence. But they were too proud or too stupid to have any. The system hadn’t failed us for over hundred years! That was the only thing we trusted from pre-unification days. Should have known better than to rely on this primitive mess, Sheirr reasoned. Anyway, he continued, some chips of some sort are still left from that system, would you mind taking a look?

Akshat doubted that even if the said chips had survived the extreme temperature or the crash of the meteor, he would be able to make any sense out of it. It was 60 years ahead of his time. He tried telling this to the Sheirr but he would turn deaf whenever Akshat said something he didn’t want to hear. He had no choice but to look at it.

He was right; no matter how hard he tried he wouldn’t be able to make any sense out of that. The chips were no longer the flat little things they used to have. They were long, gold thread-like wires. Nope. Sorry. I’m really not familiar with this. I could have helped if it were something of the 2030s but definitely not this.

Prollo Sheirr was crestfallen. Akshat felt like he had just broke the poor man’s heart. He tried suggesting if there was any other way. Er… isn’t there any backup for this? Sheirr started staring at him as if he was completely, barking mad. Making a backup for something indestructible was senseless. Not that I know of. But Akshat still wasn’t convinced. He kept pressing on the backup. Sheirr yelled at him We DON’T create backups! This system was flawless. We don’t waste precious energy for something that’s of no use! Akshat still couldn’t believe that. He asked Sheirr: Did he invent this before the Unification? By this time Sheirr had lost his patience, he replied through clenched teeth, yes. Akshat smiled, then he still was an Indian. Indians always keep backups. Take me to the place where he made this “infallible” system.

So the exasperated Sheirr took him to a house in the outskirts of the sub-unit. Akshat was glad to note that at least the house looked familiar to him. It wasn’t made out of the black metal but bricks and cement, which had badly corroded. It was made in the 2030s if you must know. Bah! Sheirr spat. But we had to cover it with Smatanium from inside – er, the black metal you see. It is our only protection from the sunrays. He answered to Akshat’s confused look. I’m telling you there’s no point going inside. All that moron left was a cupboard made of indestructible wood and one hellishly annoying parrot, Bingo.

They went inside the house. It was spotlessly clean, Akshat noticed, because there wasn’t any dust in the future.

You gentlemen are not allowed here, a voice rang. Shut up, Bingo. We’re here because of your dear master’s screw-up, Sheirr snapped. Akshat looked at the direction where the voice was coming from. It was a red parrot that spoke in a very butler-like manner. Wait, you said this Rohan guy died a hundred years back. How is his parrot alive? Sheirr gave him an are-you-retarded look; he’s a genetically modified animal. You do know what that is, don’t you? He lives for 200 years. Akshat made a face at him. Smartass.

Then, Sheirr showed him a wooden cupboard. This is the only thing he left behind apart from the ancient computers in his laboratory and that god-forsaken parrot. It’s supposed to have something you might like to call a ‘backup’. This cupboard is made of indestructible wood and we don’t have a key. We tried everything, threw it in the Volcano, dropped it from the top of the Grand Canyon but nothing happened. It is very annoying when your own inventions become your obstacles. Akshat looked closely at the cupboard and said, did you try calling a blacksmith and getting a key made for the cupboard? Sheirr looked as if he was going to hit him on the head, we don’t have blacksmiths anymore, genius. And yes I did take the required measure. But the keyhole is very peculiar.

You gentlemen are just stupid. It is a very simple lock. Bingo chirped from behind them, startling Sheirr. Then tell us what it is! Sheirr snapped. I am not authorized to. Sheirr grunted an illegible abuse. Akshat rummaged in his pockets and found a safety pin. He bent it and fumbled with the lock while Sheirr looked disapprovingly over his shoulder. After 15 minutes of trying he finally gave up.

For five days Akshat came back everyday and tried various means to open the lock without any luck. Sheirr was getting more and more displeased by the day both with him and with Bingo, whom Akshat had got to like. He stayed there, perched on his wooden pew and rambled on constantly that they were going wrong. Finally, Sheirr got frustrated and yelled SHUT THE DAMN PARROT UP! And knocked his little pew over. Bingo took flight just in time but lost several of his feathers in the process. A feather came and rested itself atop Akshat’s knee. He picked it up and looked at the peculiar makings. They were remarkably like the ones on the keyhole of the cupboard.

For many years to come Akshat wasn’t able to explain why he did what he did. He took the feather and just inserted it inside the keyhole. To his and Sheirr’s immense surprise, it swung open. They gazed at it for the longest time. Akshat was expecting to see an entire computer system inside and a complex structure. But all it had was a single word written inside it. Bingo.

To Akshat it made no sense but Sheirr turned to the parrot and stared in disbelief. What is it then? He said through gritted teeth. Bingo the parrot, who was flying around their heads, spreading his glorious red wings simply started singing. Shut the damn parrot up! Shut the damn parrot up! Shut the damn parrot up!

-x-

Dear reader,

I’ve finally reached the last page of my journal which means that I can no longer write after this. They don’t write anymore because there is no more paper. But I think it would be very unfair to you if the aftermath of what happened were left untold.

Bingo finally told Sheirr what he was taught by his master. There indeed was a backup. A computer in Rohan’s laboratory was registering all the transactions simultaneously as the BDIS. The data was recovered and the War ended.

I did figure out a way to travel back in time. But for humans, it’s unlikely that they will reach alive. When you travel forth in time, you don’t actually biologically age but, when you travel back, you age just as fast. Faster than the speed of light! A human will be dead within seconds if he tried that. That is why I’m sending my time machine back, without me.

I also learnt a very important lesson even though it took me the most mind-boggling invention to make me realize that. You can never change the past, even if you invent the ability to go back in time. But you can always change the future and for that it’s not necessary to time-travel. I see the entire world now, and I think that only if we were more careful, more aware of the consequences we are subjecting out future generations to, it would have been such a better place to live. But it’s okay. Future is still awesome – and weird.

I am sending you my journal with my time machine. I hope you will narrate it to the world. I hope you will create my “backup”. You have never known me, but I know your father. He used to be my little baby brother. I was gone while you were still in your mom’s belly. I trust you with the account of your future and my past. I hope you use it well.

Love,

Uncle Akshat.

The Red Scarf

The shrill piercing sound of the alarm clock was the first sound she heard that day. Without even wasting a nanosecond, she got up to stop the cacophony blaring out of the clock, which was kept across the table giving her no chance to laze around for even a second. She looked at the watch groggily, it was 5.57. Shit!

It took Tammanna Shroff all of 18 minutes to shower and get dressed. She took her briefcase and stormed out of her house, stopping only to grab a banana for breakfast. She checked her watch again: 6.17. Though she was supposed to reach her office at 8, she always reached an hour early. Today, she had to handle a very important case. The senior partner in the firm, Mr. Iyer, had himself assigned her this case. Tammanna believed that it could make her partner-in-a-law-firm-before-I-turn-thirty dream come true.

Just as she was about to close the door, her cell vibrated. She took it out. It flashed an unknown number. Was it her office? Were they calling to take that case away? Or worse, fire her?

She broke into a cold sweat. Shaking, she picked up the phone.

“Hey, sunshine! Happy two-seven!”

It was Aman, her brother.

“Wha- Oh! Yeah, th-thank you!”

“Don’t tell me you forgot! What kind of person forgets her own birthday?!”

“I didn’t forget… I just didn’t remember. It’s just that I have this really important case to work on, you know-”

“Don’t you always? Give yourself a break Tom, it’s your birthday!”

She flinched at the name her brother addressed her with and at the way it sounded so unprofessional.

“That doesn’t make any difference. Aman, this is the case I was waiting for all my life. If I pull this off, it’d put in a good name to the partners. They might even consider me for partnership next time, you know.”

“Of course you can pull it off. But you can always do it a bit later. Getting your self all worked up is not what you need right now. Getting a life is!”

“Stop your yackety-yak. I know what I need, okay? And speaking of which, there’s a new opening at the legal services department with InfoMation. I can put in a good word for you if you want.”

“No, I don’t. You know I love what I do. I have a life –

“Yes! I know! Listen, I really have to go. I’ll see you at dinner, okay?”

“Will do. See you at 8.”

She hung up and rushed towards her car still thinking about Aman. It was hard to believe that someone like him could be her brother. All her life, she had been organised, headstrong and very, very professional. On the other hand, Aman had always been… well, Aman. Carefree, spirited and unexpected. Just like her, he had studied in the best law school in the country. But unlike Tammanna, who joined Levi-Parker as soon as she got out, Aman just started practicing as a small time lawyer in the district court. Since she was twelve, she had worked towards being a lawyer. But her brother just decided to be one after he saw Philadelphia. This is how Aman was. Then he met some people, his clients, who convinced him to join their “organization” and he joined them. Tammanna always tried to convince him to join a law firm or a company. And Aman always tried to convince Tammanna to wear brighter colours rather than beige and black.

She drove to her office lost in her thoughts about Aman. But as she reached the parking are, her attention was grabbed by the special parking spaces given reserved for the partners with brown and gold boards proudly displaying their names.

Someday.

Tammanna walked up to her office hurriedly. Nobody had turned up yet. She went into her tiny office and started working.

She spent all day studying, interviewing clients, arranging meetings and making case studies. She had totally forgotten about her dinner with her brother. At around four, Aman called again.

“Tom, what are you wearing?”

“Why?”

“Tell me.”

“A black suit, why?”

“Add some colour to your life, sunshine!”

And he hung up at that. Tammanna was annoyed, but didn’t react. After all, he was the only person who she could call family. The only one who remembered her birthday.

-------- x --------

It was almost 7.45 in the evening when Tammanna pulled herself out of all the work and called up Aman.

“Where are you?”

“I’m with the guys. I’ll meet you in 5 minutes at Ashok’s. Be there!”

“But –

It was already too late. He was gone. She went down to Ashok’s, which was just down the lane. The air was crisp so she walked. Ashok’s had been her and Aman’s favourite place since they were teenagers. She hadn’t been there for a while but Aman was still one of the regulars. He never failed to call her whenever he went there, which was nearly every week. Tammanna always refused. It had been ages since she saw her brother. Feeling a tinge of guilt, she quickened her steps.

She went into the restaurant and sat there. Just like Aman, their favourite hang-out hadn’t changed a bit. The same explosion of colours and fluorescent lights greeted her. This was one place that did not have any taste or ambience and yet Tammanna loved it.

Fifteen minutes passed by and yet there was no sign of Aman. Tammanna was getting impatient. She hated waiting but this was absolutely frustrating. She hadn’t seen her brother since nearly three months. She couldn’t wait to meet Aman but he was taking his own sweet time. That was so... irresponsible!

She took out her cell phone and called him up.

“Aman, where are you? I’ve been waiting since forever.”

“Listen, Tom. I’m coming. It can take me a while. You stay where you are. Just don’t go anywhere. Stay at Ashok’s, okay?”

“But where are you?”

“Tom, I don’t have time. I’ll explain when I meet you. You just take care and wait for me at Ashok’s. I’m coming.”

“Fine. But you better make it fast.”

“I will. And Tammanna…”

“Yes?”

“I love you, didi”

Aman hung up leaving Tammanna staring at the phone. In his whole life of twenty five years, Aman had never, ever called Tammanna didi. She was absolutely dumbfounded. This must be some weird thing he’s doing with “the guys.” Aman had sounded so responsible, so mature when he said that. Whatever, it was, Tammanna found it unnerving, rather than comforting.

Tammanna sat their, waiting for Aman, when it happened. She felt it first. A huge explosion of sound which shook the whole restaurant. The water in the glass kept on the table spilled out, the small vase fell. Tammanna got up and ran towards the door, holding her breath. Around a kilometre away from her, the whole city was ablaze. For almost a minute, there was absolute silence in the restaurant as everyone watched the scene unfold in front of their eyes. Tammanna went numb. Then, suddenly, there was a huge eruption of scream and cries as people ran for their lives. Tammanna joined them. She had to get into her office, grab her car and go back to the safety of her home. But something was holding her back.

Aman. He didn’t know. She took out her phone and tried to call him but it went in vain. The situation there was going out of hand, and she had to tell Aman. He doesn’t know! But she couldn’t call. I’ll text. She quickly typed him a message. Aman, DO NOT come here. There has been a blast. Can’t reach you. Call me ASAP.

She sent the message and waited for a delivery report. It didn’t come. I can’t leave like this; without making sure that Aman gets the message. I’ll wait for his call.

She walked away from the crowd of people running away and went to a corner. The sight in front of her eyes made her collapse where she was standing. People were running, there was a child standing in a corner, watching the burning buildings, awestruck, as men, bricks and other nameless, faceless things shot out of them like fireworks. The sounds of fire engines and ambulances fast approaching. A media van was already there. News reporters and cameramen were swarming about, trying to get people to talk on camera. Some members of police were trying to keep people away while some others were getting out people from the burning buildings; it was hard to tell whether they were alive or not. Tears sprang up to her eyes. She knew what it felt like to lose someone. She had lost almost everything in life. Everything, except Aman.

She saw two people walking towards her, a boy about Aman’s age and a girl, who looked much younger. Unlike the people around them, they were walking slowly searching for someone. They came up to Ashok’s and stopped. The girl pointed towards Tammanna and they started coming towards her..

“Excuse me. Are you Tammanna Shroff?”

Tammanna was surprised.

“Yes. What – how do you know me?”

They looked at each other, and then the guy said,

“Aman sent us.”

“Aman? Where is he? Why is he not here? Did he get my message? Why didn’t he reply? That’s so irres –

The girl came up to her and said, “Tammanna, Aman’s dead.”

“But atleast he could have informed –

“Tammanna? Listen to me. Aman’s dead!”

Tammanna stared point blank at the girl’s face. She felt that she had never seen a sadder face in her life. She could not comprehend what he was saying. Aman – dead? That’s surely not possible. Aman’s at home. He’s late. It’s my birthday! He can’t die on my birthday!

Tammanna cleared her throat and said in her best professional tone, “I think you might be mistaken. My brother is at home, he’s not –”

She could not bring her to say that word, even though it wasn’t true.

“Look, just come with me, okay?”

Tammanna followed them as they took her to the site of the blast. Aman wasn’t there. Aman couldn’t be there.

Up close, the sight was even more terrorizing. The building that had fallen prey to the explosion was a high end hotel. The building next to was also engulfed in flames. The strangers led her to the building opposite to the hotel, where the victims were being brought in. As soon as they entered, a guy approached them.

“Tammanna?”

She just nodded, unable to speak.

“This way.”

The three of them led her to a small room, a store room for spare stationary. Several people surrounded a guy who was on the floor. Tammanna couldn’t see his face. He was wearing a purple kurta and blue jeans. He reminded her of Aman. No, he doesn’t! Of course he doesn’t. So many guys wear bright colours.

Someone looked up as they entered the room. Tammanna, bit by bit, walked towards the body. Everyone gave way to her. She walked as slowly as she could. She could hear her heart hammering against her chest. Gradually, she could see the body clearly. The guy’s face was burnt. But she could tell that he carried stubble. He had that boyish charm in his face. Tammanna bent down and turned his face towards her.

After three long months, Tammanna Shroff saw her brother.

Her heart stopped beating. Her head was throbbing. Everything was blurred. Her life was blurred. She looked at Aman’s face. Her entire family, entire world was lying still in front of her. All she could see was his lifeless form. It was like she went into a trance. She couldn’t breathe. Aman was dead. Aman was dead.

Tammanna tried to speak. But she couldn’t find her voice. She tried to cry, but all her tears had dried up. She was choked with intense pain. Finally, she mustered all the strength she had and whispered, “Why was he there?”

She looked up to the crowd gathered there. All of them seemed to know Aman. She stood up and asked them again, this time loudly, “Why was my brother there? He was supposed to be at home. Who are you people? How do you know Aman?”

The guy who had brought Tammanna here stepped out and handed her a paper. It was a letter. “Aman answered all your questions, Tammanna.”

With shaking hands, she opened the letter. She could recognize Aman’s handwriting.

Hey, sunshine!

I know, I know you’re annoyed. I mean, what kind of a brother dies on his sister’s birthday! But, you know how I am! But you can vent out all your anger later. Tom, there’s something really important I need to tell you.

The people around you are the ‘guys’ I used to talk about. We are all an organisation. And we were in that hotel for a purpose. The thing is Tom, we knew about the blast. We’ve known it since a month –

Tammanna went numb. She couldn’t believe what she was reading. What was Aman talking about? How did he know? He can’t be behind the blasts; he cannot possibly be a terrorist. The thought itself made her shiver. She read further:

– now. My organisation was basically set up to prevent cyber crime. We were often called on by the police and companies for assistance. Last month, while investigating a possible hacking of the intelligence server, we stumbled upon a conversation between two guys, who were planning out the attack. One was based in this city and the other operated from somewhere near Delhi. They claimed they had smuggled 80 kgs of RDX into the city. We thought of it as a joke first, but further investigations revealed that it was indeed true. Since the past month we’ve been trying to tell the government and police about this. But with the elections coming up, everyone refused to hear us out. We tried to include the media, but they wouldn’t do anything against the government. As a last desperate hope, we came here to warn as many people as we could. I know what you’re thinking. I am indeed irresponsible.

Too bad it had to happen on your big day. Trust me, Tom, there is no one in the world who regrets it more than me that I didn’t get to see my beautiful sister on her birthday. You are the best frigging sister anyone could have. I mean it. You have been with me in all colours of my life. There’s nothing I can ever do or give that can pay you back (but you can have my rainbow wig.)

You’re not alone. You’ll never be.

Sparkle up, sunshine.
I love you.
Yours truly,
Aman

A thousand pins pricked her heart at once. Breath would not come to her. Her mouth went dry. She couldn’t believe what her brother had done. Careless, free spirited, irresponsible Aman had sacrificed his life to save strangers!

“He knew? You all knew about this?” she asked incredulously.

“We did. We all did. It was Aman who found out about this.”

“And the police? They also knew?”

“Yes. We told them. But they refused to help.”

“So that means, my brother lost his life because everyone else was too ignorant. He wouldn’t have died if these people listened to him, you know.”

“We know, Tammanna. We all were there when it –

But before he could say anything, Tammanna stormed out of the room. She went out where to the blast site and frantically looked around. She spotted a police officer at a distance. She ran up to him.

“Sir, I have some vital information for you. My brother knew about these blasts –

“Madam, I can’t help you. Please, go away from here.”

Tammanna was taken aback by his response. He started moving away.

“Wait! Who’s your senior?” Tammanna asked, in spite of herself.

He pointed behind Tammanna. She looked back and found the Commissioner of Police standing there. She went up to him.

“Sir, my brother Aman knew –

“Aman Shroff? We have no time for him now, he has bugged us enough”

“Sir, my brother was in there. He died saving innocent people.”

“A hundred other people have died. And if he knew, why did he go in there in the first place. Fool! I can’t help you. Go to some politician, they’ll be announcing compensation anytime soon.”

Tammanna was appalled. How could he say that? How could he think that her brother’s death can be compensated?

“My brothers died saving lives because, apparently, all of you dirty slaves were busy being ignorant.”

The commissioner threw her a dirty look and walked away. Tammanna tried to follow but she couldn’t get past the envelope of media that had surrounded him.

Tammanna looked around desperately. She saw a row of white Ambassador cars approaching. The commissioner had given him an idea.

She saw the chief minister get out of a car and was immediately surrounded by media and guards. He was unreachable. Out of desperation, she yelled, “My brother knew about the blasts!”

The minister stopped and looked at her. She said again, quietly this time, “My brother found out. He tried to inform the police. But no one would believe him.”

The minister came up to her and said, “I understand.” A wave of relief swept over her. “I will award you compensation. Terrorists cannot hamper our spirit.”

He whispered to a man standing next to him, “Get her out of here. She’ll tarnish my image.”

And he went away muttering something that sounded like “opposition.”

Tammanna was left speechless. Why did everyone think she wanted money? All she wanted was that her brother’s death shouldn’t go in vain. He had been insulted, had been called a fool. They thought that some money would fill the void in her life, would compensate her brother’s death.

She went back to the place where Aman lay, now alone. She sat beside her brother and took his hand in hers.


I love you, didi.

She looked at his long, messy hair. How many times had she told him to cut it short? And how many times had he told her to get rid of her “nasty little French plait.”

I love you, didi.

She thought of his tinkling laugh, which always made her smile. So many times he had laughed his way out of their arguments. And Tammanna was always left fuming and smiling, at the same time.

I love you, didi.

Every time Tammanna saw him, she had always been critical of him. And he had always been so patient, so nonchalant. Tammanna always thought he wasn’t good enough. Aman always thought she was the best.

I love you, didi.

Someone knocked on the door pulling Tammanna out of her stupor. She looked up; it was someone from Aman’s organisation. He carried a white box, slightly burnt at one side.

“He wanted you to have this. It’s your birthday gift.”

Tammanna took the box and opened it. Inside it was a beautiful red silk scarf impervious to the damage done to the box and to Tammanna’s life.

Two fat tears rolled down her cheeks. She hugged the box closed to her and completely broke down. Reality sunk in for the first time. Aman was gone, he wasn’t coming back. No matter how much she wants. She had failed to recognize what Aman truly was. Aman had lived his short life better than anyone she knew. Better than she ever could. She termed his will to live as irresponsibility and now he was gone. Forever.

She looked at Aman’s sunken face and then at the beautiful red scarf he had given her. She got up and wiped off the tears. She won’t let Aman’s life go in vain. She would not let other people be the judge of her brother’s character. She’s going to finish off what Aman had started.

She went to Aman’s friends. “I want all of you to come out. I have a plan.” She went towards the door and suddenly stopped. She turned back, “Have you thought of registering this organization?”

Outside, the scenario had gotten worse. Most of the fire was extinguished but the injured victims were being brought out. The family member stood outside the building praying, hoping, dreading. Tammanna looked around. She saw a media van standing and approached them.

Fifteen minutes later, Tammanna was on air. She told the whole world what her brother had done. How he found out about the blasts, how he went to the police, the politicians and the media and how everyone refused to believe him.

“…and then, as a last option, he and his friends went to the hotel to save as many people as they could. But my brother couldn’t save himself.”

She choked. Tears sprang up in her eyes. No, I won’t cry.

Heaving a sigh, she continued, “We all put our trust in these people and this is what we get? My brother believed that it’s time we take things into our hands. It’s time we take the initiative. We have had enough of sitting around wishing for things to change. If we join hands, maybe we can be the change we yearn for. I, Tammanna Shroff, call you to join me and my brother for our cause… to bring change… to be the change.”

She couldn’t continue anymore. She turned back and left. She went back Aman to find solace. She took his hand again and cried. I tried, Aman. I tried.

Suddenly her cell phone vibrated. It was Mr. Iyer. Why is he calling me 11.30 in the night? She picked up.

“Tammanna, what the hell is it? What am I seeing? I’m sorry for your loss but it’s not acceptable for an employee and future partner to go about defaming Levi – Parker by supporting some stupid fan club.”

“It’s not a stupid fan club. It’s my brother’s wish.” She spat.

“Tammanna, I know what you’re going through. But after few months, we’re putting you up for partnership. Consider this. It’s not the time to get impulsive.”

“I quit. Now you consider this.”

She hung up the phone on him. She looked at Aman’s face. It seemed to be smiling at her.

She looked up and saw all of the “guys” standing there, open mouthed.

“What?” she asked.

“Err... we were planning to register the organization. Do you have any name for it?”

Tammanna looked at Aman’s face and smiled. She looked back at them.






“The Red Scarf.”

An Orphan's Tale

Once there was a little town called Lorrings. Though the government had officially named it Lalnagar after independence, the old townies were too proud to let go the identity of their birthplace. Hence, the name stuck. It was a tiny town, where most of the houses were bare-walled or with paint peeling off the paper thin walls. There were a few offices and stores, some closed down salons, a club, a newspaper agency 'Lorrings Daily' and a broken down church. It was a town where everyone seemed to know everyone.

And even in this all so familiar town, there was one person who lived as a stranger: a little boy named Steven, who was ironically named after the most - only - famous man of the town Steven Lorrings, the writer. He lived in the broken down church, away from the rest of the town and worked as a hawker for the newspaper agency. He looked like any other boy of that town. Brown skin, brown eyes, black hair and a stubby nose, though his clothes were dirtier and more weathered than the other boys.

But it wasn't always that way. Three years back Steven was one of the richest boys in town. His father ran most of the salons and his mother was a well known face among the socialites. It was a time when he had endless pairs of clothes, lots of expensive shoes and even his own cricket set! Everything was perfect in his small world. That is, until one fateful day. His mother and father were invited by a very influential person to accompany him to London. London! It was like a dream come true! They were to return in two weeks. On Steven's birthday! Steven eagerly awaited their return. Think of all the presents they would get him!

But fate played a cruel game. His parents never came back. Steven vaguely remembered the news of the plane crash, his housekeeper running towards him tears streaming down her face, his house, the salons, all being seized by the "bad people", being shunned out with just a photograph of his parents. He never heard from them again; all his "well-wishers." Steven had not shed a single tear all through this.

Since then, Steven’s life was encaged by the rusting chains of monotony. Time had come to a stand still. He woke up at the crack of dawn, went to the agency, distributed papers and then went back again to get his daily wage. He went to the grocer's store next to get whatever he could from the little money he got. The grocer and his boss were the only two people he talked to, or rather who talked to him. And both of them were not very nice. The grocer never gave him one grain extra despite the fact that he came there everyday. And one day when it was pouring outside, Steven went to the agency 15 minutes late only to be threatened by his boss that he’d be fired and he made Steven swear on his life that he’d never come late again.

That was two months back and Steven hadn’t spoken a word ever since.

One day Steven started his day as usual. There was a heavy downpour outside throughout the day and by the time he got back, he had a terrible headache. The next day he woke up much too late. The sun had already come up. His head felt fuzzy. He made his way to the agency only to find out that he’d been fired. The grocer refused to even acknowledge him. He went back to the church defeated.

From the spot where he slept on a heap of straw, he fished out an old, worn down, fading photograph. Steven took it and went up to a window-sill and sat down. He watched the rain falling on the dirty glass. He looked at the photograph: his mother smiling at him and his father looking tall as ever. He hugged the photograph and began crying. It was the first tear he shed in three years. He cried for all that he lost: his parents, house, his cricket set. He cried for himself, for what the cruel world did to him, for all the misery they caused. He cried for his job, for his broken down church and for his broken down life. He cried at the way the sky wept for him today. Crying he went to sleep.

But never woke up again.