Lines from a book I’ll never complete!

Hola mates!
I was going through short excerpts written by me. I was stunned by a few and laughed at others. I decided to start posting them here, so here I go…

You’re the guy of my dreams
The one for whom my heart beats
You’re the one who makes me smile
Cry n jump n run a mile

Sorry m not a poet.
But yes I can write. I can write my heart out. And even as I write this m sure you’ll get wat I want to pass on. I love u.
Today I know wat love is. It’s not a distraction but a motivation to do better …its not physical touch but the emotional support.
My heart beats for you. My mind searches for u. My eyes look for u. I cherish our memories with care.
I promise u  I won’t let my shadow leave you. I won’t let your hand go away from mine. I won’t let this heart beat for another guy. You know why?
Coz you …yes you  …have stolen my peace. No more am I at ease. I love u ..n I want your love back ♡
I can write forever about your beautiful fragrance, dazzling smile, strong personality and a winning nature.
I can write forever about our stupid fights and our silly jokes.
I can write forever about how much you mean to me.
I can write forever about YOU.
But that’s not the point to be highlighted. You know wat is?
That I’d always write for you.
Only for you.
Coz I love you.

*no one’s supposed to get personal over that*

Atrocities of ‘CC’

Hello everybody!

Firstly, thanks for giving me so many followers!! Love each and every one of you! Thank you for the booming stats too!

As promised, I’ll be talking about the atrocities of coaching classes today (this will, probably, be the last post on teenagers and their mental status in India).

In India, 99 out 100 school kids attend a coaching institute (CC or COACHING CLASSES) right from the age of 6 or probably less! (Millenials, hold on, I’m talking about THIS generation! The alphas!)

So, it’s like out of 24 hrs, 6 hrs are spent in school, 8 hrs of sleeping and 4 hrs are spent in the coaching institutes. The rest of the 6 hours are spent eating, bathing and doing the enormous amounts of homework given by these coaching institutes. It’s not like they charge a feeble amount or something. Their fees shoot up to a lakh or more per annum. And that definitely is ridiculous!

But the funnier part is yet to come. This amount is paid by the hard working parents to the institutes NOT for a better career guidance to their kids but to provide RECREATION to the kids!

The situation today is something like this : The coaching registers are neat whereas we don’t even have a register for school. The coaching homework is done sincerely whereas we don’t ATTEND school. We have a 100% attendance throughout the year in the coaching classes, whereas we strive to complete the 75% compalsurized (is there such a word?) by school. Why?

Because, of course, coaching is more fun! You meet different people, have  no disciplinary actions taken against you and you’re waited on hand and foot there! You think this will help you get into your favourite college? Lol! I mock you poor ridiculous kids! Ever thought about those village boys who got into IIT and made news the previous year? What about the super 30?  They didn’t have a lakh to pay! Yet they’re doing better than you.

Now to those who manage to finally get into the IITs by getting tutored by these centres of education : How successful are you in life? If you think money is success and since you earn a good amount you’re successful, lemme clarify that you’re wrong. Of course everybody has a different definition to what success is, but basically it’s the good outcome of an undertaking. And money is not it.

Success is when you do something other than filing papers in a huge company. Success is when you construct a building that’s flawless, success is when you make a medicine that eradicates the need to go to a doctor often, success is when you find means of saving lives, success is when you THINK and make a change, success is when you make this world a better place.

The coaching centres are giving us knowledge without understanding. You think doing 150 numericals an hour is education? No! The proof that you’ve truly learnt something isn’t getting all of those 150 answers right. The actual proof comes when you can EXPLAIN the concept of at least one of those numericals to a complete lay person. But I know that half of the times you yourself don’t know it!

I agree I myself go to coaching classes, 4 hrs a day. Why you’d ask, eh? Just keeping up with the fad!

I haven’t joined a fancy air conditioned famous academy where I gotta pay a lakh per year, but I definitely have joined an academy. And trust me, it disheartens me to see the state of students there. Basically, to fulfil my dreams and somehow beat those ‘over smart’ pieces of printed encyclopaedias (I mean the students who can do 150 questions an hour),  to my favorite college I NEED to cheat. And hence I find myself in these classes.

Recently, there have been a number of issues regarding these classes. A boy A (check my previous posts ) committed suicide recently. His well wishers claim that it’s the physics teacher who forced him to join his private tuitions and the pressure eventually killed the child. The city calls him a ‘dalal’  (never mind the translation – just that it’s not a kind word). Well, to those city dwellers I question, who encouraged the rise of coaching classes? This physics teacher killed one student (I hope it’s not true), but the other ‘dalals’ like R and M (I’m sure some of you know what I’m talking about and to my foreign friend’s I’d say these are some great coaching institutes down here) are DESTROYING thousands of students. They’re ruining their career. Do you guys do anything about it.

The other day a boy claimed it isn’t abnormal for teenagers to drink and smoke now. To that boy I’d say : It IS abnormal man! It isn’t the age! Look where it landed poor A. It causes lack of emotional and mental stability! And these coaching centres are where bad habits breed!

Some of you would say that it’s purely on the teen to be a good child or a bad one. But I’d oppose that. Teenagers are emotionally imbalanced and have little say when bad habits are enforced on them. Trend is something they tend to adopt and when addiction is the latest trend, you can’t blame the teen !

As aware citizens of democratic India, it is OUR responsibility to stop this business called coaching (sounds so much like poaching!). Bug your school teachers, take the help of books and internet. Raise YOUR standards and not the amount you pay. I call out to those revolutionaries out there participating in candle marches : march against these ‘dalals’. Student force has a lot of power, if only it’s directed towards the right issues!

Wake up. Make this place a better one. Get a life. Dance, play, live, learn. Don’t mug up.

Enjoy life because you only live once.

Happy Women’s Day

Hello Blogmates!
It’s been so long since I’ve last written…I wonder if anybody missed me (No?)

Well I did miss blogosphere but owing to the exams I had last week and the cafeteria that’s a family venture (we started with that last week!), I was pretty busy!

Anyway, today, I’d like to wish each and every woman out there a very Happy Women’s Day!

To all the men out there, sorry that you’re not a women (no pun intended)!

Today, I’d like to put forth a small little question – a question I can’t really answer myself!

Do you think Love Jihad exists?

It would be interesting to read your comments!

Dream – Be the Dreamer of YOUR dream! Let your kid live His/ Her life!

As seen nowadays, from childhood, a child is laden with dreams that are not his own but those of his parents. At every turning point, at every fork of life, he is dragged by his parents. He is led away from his talents and hobbies and told to study. At those moments, parents don’t realize that they are dragging their child away from what he is good at to something that probably is not in his capability. They don’t realize that the child feels enclosed and caged in a world that’s not his at all but the parents’. And that’s the starting point when stress starts building up in a child. A will to fly in the open skies, when suppressed frustrates him!

And when that same child reaches his teenage, he gets unruly. Just like when a caged animal is freed, he goes out of control taking undue advantage of the bit of freedom he gets. And then those parents complain that their teen is rowdy and juvenile. But you tell me now, is it right to expect a child to follow your dreams or to kill his own desires? If a child is good at painting and you force him to be a CA, what else do you expect from him but that he’d paint on his documents instead of calculating and then get kicked out of his job! Duh!

Parents will have to realize that by dumping the goals they’ve never achieved on their children they are spoiling their lives and are inviting delinquency in their kids, and as the saying goes, a balanced sustenance reaps the pink fruit.

So before forcing your kid to study study and study or compeling them to go in for science stream wait for a second and think if you’re actually showing him the right path or pushing him in for depression! Just befriend your kid from babyhood and instead of obliging him, discuss matters with him and mark my words- a guide is more helpful as compared to a map! So be his guide and not just a bossy old chap ordering away without troubling ‘bout his feelings.

A short wishlist : By her To him

This piece of fiction has no significance as such.
It is the feelings of a girl who wants to hold on but has to let go of her love…

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A short wishlist !
I wish you don’t forget me. I wish you remember those sweet memories we made and those stupid fights we had. I  wish you remember the cute meals we’d had together and sweet situations we’d experienced together.  You’re fatherly scolding to study and my teacherly scolding to eat properly . You’re protectiveness and my jealousy. Hope you remember them.
I wish you keep my gifts safe so that years later when you’re old n married you can boast that you had a girlfriend once who was not really hot but cared.
I wish you never forget wat I did was true love and that even when we’re 50 yrs old I’d be sitting alone in the verandah of my house drinking coffee from the mug u gave.
I wish you remember that even today I find you to be the most attractive guy in the world . You are charming :* .
I wish that you forgive my mistakes. M too immature I know. But you ain’t.
I wish that one day you be as famous as bill gates and then I get a chance to work for you. Don’t worry I won’t let u recognise me or interfere in your life.
I wish you live happily no matter where you are  because even today your pain is mine.
No I don’t love you. I don’t care for you. But there are lingering feelings in my heart that keep me from hating you.
I remember once you said that if we broke up..you’d keep buying gifts for my birthday n on my marriage you’ll post them with intrest. But lemme tell u u won’t be able to do that …coz i’d never get married.
I wish that if someone says my name you smile n say I miss her. No I don’t want any importance …just a small place in your heart.
I wish you are always safe and successful.  Keep smiling.
As a best frnd …A girl comes n goes like the new moon…so don’t fret or cry over it. Heart breaks are a part of life. Every night there’s one but the next morning is new!  So watever happens…remember that life goes on 😚 yolo!

Building Family Relations – Top Tips To Win Over Your Beau’s Parents

First impression is the last impression, they say and most probably this is the saying that comes to your mind when you’re meeting your guy’s parents for the first time – or maybe you’re so nervous that nothing comes to your mind! Never mind!

You want to leave a lasting impression on them and want to win over your boy friend’s parents, whereas you don’t want them to think you’re artificial. Well, we’re here to help you with that. Just follow these pointers and I’m sure you’ll have an excellent meeting ahead!

1. Be courteous, be original: It’s not to be specified that you’ve got to be polite and respectful, but don’t show off. Introduce yourself with a smile and a handshake, address them by using prefixes like Mr. and Mrs., and be ladylike! Keep your show of affections towards your beloved to the minimal level. Be sure you don’t stay late night, if you’re at your guys house offer to wash the dishes and other stuff. Avoid probing into family scenarios and keep your conversations to the surface level – light and friendly.
2. Don’t get too congenial: It is probable that you’ll try to or want to get as close to the parental unit as soon as possible. But remember that it takes time for one to gain the others trust, so keep your emotions at bay and don’t throw yourself at them. You need not expect the same treatment they give their son to be directed towards you too, coz after all you’re still a newbie, a third party in the family. Also, you need to find out whether or not they are comfortable with hugs and stuff and if they like being called by their first name or not. The best way to know that is either asking your boy friend himself or waiting for them to hug you first and give you the green light for using first names. But till then, preserve your manners.’
3. Take your notes beforehand: You need to ask your guy all about his family like what his parents do, where your boy friend grew up, where’s mom’s maiden home, so that you can come up with interesting topics to talk about. Silence would make things awkward during the meeting, and you babbling away about yourself would pull the trigger on vanity. So avoid talking about yourself a lot and focus on them.
4. Observe: While with the family, sit back and observe them to get an idea of the picture. See how Mom and Dad talk to each other, note if your boy’s their favorite sibling, notice if the family maintains distance with some particular relative. This will tell you volumes about them. Also check if they are interested in what you say or not. If you are at his house, surroundings can tell you loads too.
5. Dress appropriately: No revealing please, i.e. if you don’t want your boy friend’s parents spreading about that you dress in strips. Avoid wearing too short skirts, low cut tops, low waste jeans, skin tight outfits …you get the picture. Also, if your beau’s parents are believers of beauty in simplicity, there’s no sense in putting on a fashion show with loud makeup and garish clothes. Keep it down a bit, light make up and an attire considered by both you and your guy is the best. If you’re meeting up at his house, a sweater with a skirt minimum an inch or two above your knees with low heels work best. If outside, choose according to the location.

So best of luck girl and have a good time!

Responsibility – A work of fiction!

Written originally for a school presentation ! 

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“Any complaints?”

“Oh come on Anya. You know your work is flawless! I just don’t understand why you’re stuck up with this boutique. You should go for one of those big fashion chains…” Namita, a daily customer of the boutique, babbled, picking up her delivery and proceeding to pay.

The bright smile on Anya’s pretty little, twenty nine year old face shrunk a bit as she averted her gaze. Why bring up this topic, she winced inwardly, deciding not to answer her.

“Answer me!” Namita prodded, “Do you want me to help you with your CV?”

“Uh-no,” Anya replied, “I had done this, years ago. They say I need a degree in Designing and Arts to qualify for a seat…”

She paused for that to sink in before perking up her expression and returning the change.

“And why, in the lord’s name, did you not go for it when you were younger?”

“Ah-a long story!” Anya replied, her face blushing.

“I love long stories,” Namita answered with a grin, making herself comfortable on the plastic chair.

With a sigh, Anya took her seat behind the counter, her elbow resting on the counter top, “Dates back to when I completed my 12^th with a 95% in physics. I dreamt of going in for NIFT entrances, you know National Institute of Fashion Tech.”

Namita nodded for her to go on.

“And so, I revealed my wishes to Mum and Dad. Dad, being the typical traditional fellow he is, immediately objected claiming I was born to be an engineer.

On the other hand, being the typical rebel I am, told him what I thought of his great idea f making me an engineer.

Daily there were squabbles and finally we decided I’d appear for both the entrance exams.

In my opinion, both my exams went off well. The condition was I’d opt for the subject I score better in. I passed JEE with a placement in one of the best colleges. Dad was overjoyed. But I waited for my NIFT results…which never came. I never lost hopes, but when months passed and it was time for me to start with my engineering, I had to give in. Seems like I failed. I did my engineering. It was tough. I’m a B.Tech.  in computer software. My husband’s the MD if an IT company. But I can’t work with him. You know why?”

Namita shook her head.

“Because I’m an engineer without any knowledge of engineering! I mean I can’t program a simple thing because when I sit to do it, my head spins and I fell like ripping my skull apart!” Anya paused to take a breath and continued, “What do you suggest I do? I tried whatever was needed but…well now it’s too late to ponder over that!”

There was a chime at the door. Anya stood up as a man in his mid thirties entered the boutique.

“Mrs. Anya Tiwari?” he announced looking at the two ladies.

“That’d be me…” Anya said, “Tiwari’s my maiden name,” she gave in the way of an explanation to Namita’s inquiring look.

“Nice to meet you madam. I’m Tarun Halat and I’m here to give you this,” he said, fishing an envelope out of his bag.

“What’s this?” she asked, turning the big thing in her hands.

“Well, well, well! You see ma’am my father, Late Mr. Arvind Halat was a postman,” he waited for her reaction, when none came, he continued, “About ten years ago, he won a lottery of half a crore through those stupid games we see at TV stations. Well they’re not so stupid after all! Ok, so to talk of the envelope, he brought a new house and stuff and left his old coop locked up. Recently he passed away and we got the opportunity of sifting through his belongings. Inside his cubbyhole, we found a whole bag of undelivered letters dating back to the day he resigned. As the irresponsible man he was, he forgot all about these. But we decided to turn them in to the rightful owners…so here it is. We went to your home on the Prithvi Road, your parents told me I’d find you here…”

“Oh,” Anya whispered, reading the address on the envelope having a NIFT seal. Peeling off the seal, she slid out a worksheet along with a letter.

Tarun and Namita waited patiently as Anya read and re read the contents. Her eyes watered as she looked up to the two of them. Tears welled up those beautiful black eyes as she repeated the printed lines in her mind…

…having secured a merit position in the NIFT entrance exam, you are bestowed with the privilege of selecting the institute of your choice…
Reply within a period of ten days…

“Why have you brought this to me…” she whispered.

“Pardon?” Tarun said, leaning in to her better.

“WHY HAVE YOU BROUGHT THIS STUPID THING TO ME…” she yelled, tossing the envelope by his feet, “You realize what this is? You want me to cry all over again? You to make me REGRET?”

“Ma’am,” he tried to cut her.

“If only you had brought it ten years back…if only…” she whispered, stumbling on her chair and turning her face in an unsuccessful attempt to hide her tears.

“I’m sorry, from my father’s side…” he began.

With a jerk, she looked straight at him, “YOUR FATHER SPOILT MY LIFE MR. TARUN HALAT. GET LOST! I DON’T WANNA SEE YOUR FACE…” she hissed.

Later on in the day, she realized she was wrong in scolding him. He had helped her and she had been ungrateful. But she had to vent out her feelings…no?

Ten years, ten long years she had lived the life of shameful failure, had believed she’d FAILED not just in the entrance exam but in her life! A life of low self esteem, dismay, and uselessness is something worth crying after…

And all this at the cost of a man’s irresponsibility?

Contemplable eh?

Savior – A piece of Fiction!

When I was 11, I was obsessed with action.

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Millions of people fought years ago and died years ago. Millions of people did that for us years ago. Many of them became famous as freedom fighters. Bhagat Singh, Lal Bhadur Shastri, and Rani LakshmiBai were some of them. But there were some who never came to be known by us, some who were dedicated to the people, worked for the people but were not by the people. And I know about such a man, a man whose death still haunts me. Maybe because he died because of me.

It took place years ago, when I was just 18 and the whole of India was fighting for freedom. A time when the Indians killed Britishers on sight and the British too did its share of kidnapping Indian women and children. And I too was a woman, a helpless woman whom they had kidnapped. I was thrown into a ship and that was when it started….

Previously, two of their captives had disappeared and the Brits believed that they were rescued. So this time they had put us in the upper deck where only the whites could enter. I looked around at the three other people in the room. One, a kid of about seven, was lying on the bed and looked unconscious to me, another was a woman looking out of the window and the third occupant-a woman -was sitting on the floor, her knees pulled up to her chest, and sobbing pitifully. I went to her and put my arms around her to comfort her. But when I tried to speak, I couldn’t. It was hard to choke back tears at this point but I held on. At this precise minute, the door opened and a white man entered the room.

I saw the other two women around me shiver (ok, I was scared too) as the man entered the room. He strode directly towards the kid on the bed, his face determined. Was he going to kill us or were we being handed back to our families in exchange of something? I had no idea what was in store for me. I stared as the man heaved the kid on his shoulder and motioned for us to follow. Noticing a gun in his hand, we complied. Once outside he took us through winding passages in the ship. As time passed, the passages started growing deserted.

After a few minutes, the route he took was totally empty. On a sudden impulse I asked the man, “You’re going to kill us?” as soon as the words were out, I wished I had never spoken .The man stopped and turned towards me. His face sturdy but not cruel. “No” he said in a deep voice. “I’m not going to kill you, or even hurt you, as a matter of fact. But promise me that as soon as I let you out, you’d never turn around or speak to anybody about me. Once you’re out I don’t exist, ok?”

We nodded and I was about to speak when a man’s voice boomed from the rear, “You traitor!”

We all turned around to face a burly Brit. The next thing I knew was that I was being pulled from behind. We were all running and shots rang from behind us. The man led us to a door that opened into a dark hollow. He led us through the narrow path and after about fifteen minutes walk he stopped. We saw a thin streak of light behind us and knew they were not far away. The man brought his mouth near my ears and whispered, “Lead the women and kid through and take the first left. I’ll handle the bastards. Just hurry and don’t make a noise.” I could clearly hear his labored breathing and was reluctant to leave him. How I came to trust him, I don’t know but whatsoever, I followed his orders. Moving cautiously in the dark, I suddenly noticed a light ahead. Moving towards it, I noticed that it was the turning, lit by a lantern. It forked into two, and I took the left and suddenly stopped short as I heard the fire of a bullet. Looking behind me I saw the tension on the other women’s faces too. The one who now carried the child looked on the verge of tears. My own breath was held and after what seemed like ages the voices of the men went away. After what seemed like an eternity, I started walking again but not towards the exit but towards him.

Making my way through the dark with the lantern, I finally heard someone breathing heavily and my leg hit something. Bending down I realized it was none other than the man. Placing the lantern down I noticed his bleeding stomach and knew that he was shot. I was so frantic that all I could do was ask why?

And to this monosyllable he answered, “I lost my loved one in their hands and didn’t want your lovers to experience the same. I knew it was wrong, that we’re wrong. It was the least I could do.” And with that he left the world but his memories never left me. Many wouldn’t consider this meeting as being a friendly one but for me that single meeting was enough and I knew that he was my friend, my savior…….

A Villain with a Heart

I wrote it when I was 11 !!

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My eyes misted as I clapped for my son who marched up the stage to accept his medal. I was really proud for the deeds my son had done as a military commander for the country but the cause of my tears was the memory of a friend, Jack…

Jack was an excellent shooter and a famous (in the underworld) personality. How did we meet? Well, he saved my life.

It was a chilly morning of December when I was walking down the Eve Street, unaware of the danger in store. The locality was deserted and except me there were only a couple of other people– a young man and an old woman– on the street. Everything was quiet when suddenly a shot rang out, shattering the stillness. In an instant the young man had his gun out, aimed at the old women. The woman, surprisingly, lost her limpness and ran for cover behind a wall (and she too had a gun) – she turned out to be a man. I shrieked as someone grabbed me from behind and blindfolded me. I was carried in, perhaps, a car to some musty place, which turned out to be the dungeons of the Webster House. My blinds were removed but my hands and feet were securely tied and then I was thrown in one of the
cells.

Sweat poured through my body, all sorts of thoughts passing my mind. I looked around myself and found to my surprise that there were a dozen more people in the vault, all unconscious. They were all VIPs (except a couple of girls who were simple citizens like me)relations of different ministers whom I knew by faces .For a minute I felt honored to meet such people but then again the thoughts of the gangsters filled my head. Otherwise, the room vault was completely bare and was illuminated by the glow of the only light bulb present there. I tried to wriggle out of my bonds but they were tied quite professionally. At that moment the metallic door opened to reveal a lot of rogues.

They were all dressed in black and were carrying AK-47s in their shoulder holsters. I got scared when they started towards me but they didn’t even seem to notice me and passed on. They carried the unconscious figures of the VIPs out one by one and closed the door. Now there were only three of us left in the cell- the two, partially conscious, girls and myself. Once they were fully recovered I tried to talk them into telling me what the whole affair was about but they were too scared to utter a single word.

After a few hours of silence, there came a grating sound and the door opened. In came a man, closing the door behind him. He was dressed fully in black like all other thugs; he advanced towards me with a sharp knife gleaming in his hand. I screamed with fright assuming that he was planning to kill me. The man gave me a sharp look with a finger on his lips; I understood that I had to be quiet. When he came a little closer, I gasped in recognition- he was none other than the underworld face whose picture was on the wanted list of criminals on the papers, famous by the name of the Jackal.

He walked up to me with the sharp blade, and with one stroke of his arm…

I closed my eyes, waiting for death to come but instead I felt the grips of ropes loosen around my wrists. I slowly reopened my eyes and gazed at him who was setting the other girls free. My mind still wasn’t ready to accept what was happening, I was sure that he was going to assassinate me but my heart opposed it as his eyes showed concern though he appeared to be ruthless.

The man motioned us all to sit and said, “The doors are heavily guarded at present. It’ll be easier to get out at noon, the guards at that shift are easier to handle.” I sat close to him and asked in a hesitating manner, “Aren’t you the-“

“Jackal, yeah!” he said interrupting me. I sat quietly waiting for an explanation but when none came I again inquired, “What’s going on here and how come you saving lives instead destroying…I…please, no offence or anything intended.”

“None taken. And about your question, the whole thing’s this- these people are an international group of terrorists, want money and their dangerous fellas set free from the clutches of the police. They’re holding important people as hostages. And about why I’m helpin’ you’ll- it’s a long story but in short” he sighed “my sister, the only one I’ve ever had to call a family, was abducted and was brutally murdered by a group of outlaws”, for a moment his eyes were filled with misery and sorrow but in no time, he regained his ruthless attitude and resumed, “I can’t see innocent children and women killed and I came forward. And my reputation helped me to gain the terrorists trust, so here I am.”

“So you mean to say that you entered as a terrorist but are actually working for the government?”

“Not. For. The government.” He said this slowly yet furiously. “I told you how much I cared for my sister Laura. When she was in danger I was not there to save her; and I find… peace on saving the innocent. And the government is actually after me, ‘cause I’m a wanted criminal, am I not?”

A criminal saving women and children, weird.

I sat for a while, looking at the man and then extended my hand, “I’m Jane Maria Christie.” He gave a quick two fingered salute saying, “Jack Sullivan”

After a sleepy hour or so, Jack stood up, asking us to do the same. “Now, follow me and remember-if there are any shootouts, stick to the ground. Clear?” We all nodded.

With gesturing to be quiet, he moved out of the door with all of us tailing him. After turning a corner we followed him at a brisk pace towards the door, but Jack came to an abrupt stop and to our horror, we were face to face with one of the assassins.

He, at first ignored our expression and gave Jack a friendly smile and extended his palm, asking for a pass. From Jack’s expression it was clear that he wasn’t expecting anything of this sort. When Jack was unable to provide him with what he wanted, his expression became grave. He looked first at Jack and then at us, and at once took out his gun. Then there was quite a lot of shooting between a few terrorists and Jack. As instructed, we went down on our bellies and crawled all the way to the door.

“Run, run for your lives, go to gate 4, hurry” came the orders from the wounded Jack as he was still blocking the door so that the terrorists couldn’t follow us. Unwillingly, we left him to fight for himself and ran out. Whatsoever, we were being followed by a couple of gangsters. Once outside, we saw that the atmosphere was tense as if preparing for a war. We saw on a city map displayed on a board that gate 4 was a military base and was not too far from where we were standing. We ran at top speed, stopping only once to catch our breath. We finally reached the base (where one of my companions fainted out of tiredness) where noticing our conditions, we were carried inside.

In a week, we came to know that the terrorists were under control-all because of our army-and the VIPs were located.

The next morning’s paper showed that several of the gangsters were found dead on the door of the Webster House (I knew it was Jack’s work). It also explained that the army men were under cover, patrolling the city (like the old woman who turned out to be a man) and it even revealed that the Jackal was found dead too, outside the dungeons.

Every one still thinks that he was a companion of the terrorists. No one knows the truth about the daring hero. Now, 20 yrs have passed but the incident is still fresh in my mind. I’m really happy to think that I got a chance to know such a great person who gave up his life just for three citizens whom he didn’t even know. This was not exactly a friendly meeting but to me he would always be a friend-a savior.

There are many villains in this world, but this one was different …he was a villain with a heart.