Posted:
It's ok bai sa.
I'm sure we can wait.
Like you said we can go back and read part 1 again.
I'm sure we can wait.
Like you said we can go back and read part 1 again.
Originally posted by: napstermonsterGuys:
I am sorry for this delay in posting-all day Friday I didn't have access to the India Forums site. I did today, I was being lazy and just when I decided to post, for some reason, I cant do it properly from word doc. I-F is not allowing me to post the second part of Yesterday (Repentance) without seriously messing up the formatting and deleting portions of it randomly. Peculiar stuff. I will have to wait for tomorrow when the tech savvy men in my life come back home to help me post Part 2.For now, my apologies--all I'm able to post without complications is stuff I actually type into the Quick Reply portion--nothing from Word will paste. And, Baisas, I love you, each and every one of you--but even for my angels I cant retype a 3000 word update into India Forums's crappy system !
Thoda aur intezaar--though I'm disappointed too--I really wanted your comments on Part 2! Reread Part 1, in the meantime, if you like! 😊
YESTERDAY--PART 2: "Is he out of ICU Holding yet? When can we get access to Jasheem Khan?" Scrubbing a bandaged hand across his face, Rudra sat up on his couch. Only the acutest observer would be able to detect the tremors that still shook him as the last remnants of his nightmare played through his sleep- fogged mind.
Aman, however, was exactly such an observer. "Whats wrong, sir? Another nightmare?" Aman
asked, taking perverse pleasure in his question. Rudra did not respond. He
got up, shakily, from his makeshift bed on the office couch. Rudra prowled his
office now, avoiding piles of papers, carelessly thrown bandages, a litter of
old clothing and half devoured plates of food. The office once a bastion of
perfect order, looked as out of control and manic as its owner did.
Rudra, his uniform stained and wrinkled, the deep shadow of his unshaven beard
darkening his bruised jaw, did not look like the Rudra of just two days past. This
was fitting, perhaps. Aman thought that none of them could go back to being the
people that they used to be. The untainted men they had been before Corporal Jasheem
Khan tried to whip Parvati Vader to death one evening with half the BSD watching
as an audience to his atrocity.
Old sins had long shadows--and new sins did not stand still long enough to cast any. Restlessness, thrumming pain, an ever-increasing burden of
the soul. Rudra had to feel these. Aman knew it. He had to. It wasn't exactly
as if Aman had no idea what had happened when he had raced into this office to
shake Rudra awake. This was, after all, the third time Aman had come in, to see
Rudra thrashing and screaming, in the middle of what could only be described as
a horrific mental break. No ordinary sleep, this dream his boss kept having.
That made him scream again and again with horror and torment, the one
he could not emerge from without someone physically forcing him
awake.
Rudra were clearly suffering from no ordinary nightmare. Surely this
meant something. Some sense of responsibility, some guilt. Aman had been
suffering from those too. He dreamt, whenever he could no longer stay awake, of
macabre scenes where Parvati was actually dead, where he, Aman, could not reach
her in time. Nightmares where he burst open
that closed cell door after finding proof of her innocence, only to see Parvati
dead, on the floor. Quite frankly, Aman had been trying his best to not fall asleep
at all, nowadays. But these nightmares were their penance. His and Rudra's.
These dream-horrors that left him shaking and incoherent when he woke up. And
he had not even been the perpetrator of the crime against Parvati, the culprit
who should have known better. And who had still brought Jasheem Khan into that innocent's life--Aman
had just been the person who had been too helpless to stop it.
Rudra, now--he
should suffer. And he was. But did he truly feel remorse? Or was it shock and
anger, at having misjudged Jasheem Khan, at having made such an error in his planning and strategy? Did his guilt involve Parvati at all? Of this, Aman
was not sure. But he was glad that he was not the only one feeling the
after-effects of the Jasheem Khan incident. Rudra, famous as he was for his self
control, clearly could not control his own subconscious, with the rigid iron
hand with which he controlled his life and career. As Aman waited for Rudra's
response, he thought back to three nights ago.
Aman had been almost out of his mind with fear while he was inside that
Interrogation room, with the shattered mirror,
the thud of army boots, the roar of noise and confusion. He had entered with
one intention--to stop the madness, to get Parvati out safe. Seeing Jasheem Khan down with a bullet wound and Rudra's body shredded to the point of
collapse, Aman had been the one to unshackle Parvati from the chair,
carrying her out as her head rolled back in his arms. She was what had
mattered. Not Rudra's roar of fury at seeing her in Aman's embrace, not the
confused exclamations and the sounds of fists raining down on Jasheem Khan from
the BSD officers. Not even Rudra's fading voice had slowed Aman down,
preoccupied as he had been with getting Parvati out of the room of death, and
into the nearest Medical Center.
Constable Ram Mohan had told him later how Rudra had in fact lunged for Jasheem Khan's
throat, even as that man lay bleeding, unconscious, on the floor. It had taken
the combined efforts of four men to pull the Major off the traitor. Even as
Aman raced out, Rudra had screamed at Aman to check Paro's pulse, to wait for
him, to not dare touch her. His roar of "Paro!"
had reverberated from the walls, the rage at Jasheem Khan, at the officer's
holding him away from the unconscious man made even those hardened soldiers
tremble with fear. All screamed in a voice so crazed and filled with
black rage, the Doctor who had arrived just behind Aman had worried for the
Major's mental balance.
"Blood loss, severe
emotional imbalance and PTSD," the BSD doctor had muttered as he forcibly shot Rudra up with
high dose painkillers and muscle relaxants as he struggled against the men
holding him down. Rudra had looked vicious , snarling and fighting off his men right upto the point
he had collapsed. Constable Ram Mohan had confided all this later, to Aman. The
two men had talked, all the natural hesitation of their different ranks
forgotten when, two hours later, they both sat by Parvati's bed. Both keeping a
vigil over the unconscious girl, while the passed-out Major Rudra Pratap
Ranawat lay two feet away, in another cot. To treat the serious wounds
peppering his body into a landscape of weals, cuts and deep gashes, the BSD
doctors had had to restrain the Major Ranawat inside that Interrogation Room,
and to do that they had knocked him out with their shots.
Once he had awakened after that first injection, four hours after the Incident,
the Major had walked out of the Ward. He had ignored Aman and Ram
Mohan, where they sat next to Parvati, watching him leave. They had stared at his retreating back as he got up from his cot, and
left-- without a single glance at Parvati, who had still
been lying, unconscious, in the bed next to him. And then Rudra had just stayed back at HQ. For the past two days, he
had been dosed heavily with painkillers that had overpowered even this
formidable man's physical responses. But he had refused to go back to the
Medical Ward, and had camped out in his office, dealing with the massive piles
of paperwork when he could, but mainly being attended to by his batboy, as he
recovered from his self inflicted wounds.
He had to relax, the BSD doctors had said.
Rest, get his mind back under control, get a grip on his reactions. But all
that the force feeding of relaxants had done---as far as Aman could see---was
rip the Major's psyche into shreds. The Major suffered from something. But the truth was that he had not mentioned
Parvati Vader, not once. But every-time he woke from his drug- enforced sleep,
he demanded to know if Jasheem Khan had been made available for their
interrogation. Parvati's name had not been spoken at all. It was as if she had not
counted anymore to Rudra Pratap Ranawat. But the bloodlust that Jasheem Khan's
name brought out in Rudra's eyes...Aman shuddered.
*************************************************
Now, two days later, Rudra looked like hell, but at least he was no longer
completely knocked out on drugs. Aman had brought some disturbing news about Jasheem
Khan, and he knew this would not please Rudra. But still he held back--- because
Aman, true to his kind nature, was waiting for one question from his commanding
officer. There was one question that everyone in the Chandigarth BSD had asked Aman
over and over again. For the past two days---in the canteen...in the halls... as he
sat in front of campfires in the evening ... via text messages to his phone...calls
and emails from his brother officers... loudly voiced by the young jawans as he
walked by...haltingly whispered by the cleaners and tea boys bringing his snacks.
The same question the senior officers at HQ demanded the answer to, the same
question that raw recruits on guards duty humbly begged Aman's response to.
The
question... "Parvati
Vader kaise hai? Woh thik hai, naa?"....that question had not
crossed Rudra Pratap Ranawat's lips once, since he had effectively sent her to
her death in that Interrogation Room.
Not once had Major Ranawat asked after his prisoner. And, since Aman himself spent most of
his off-duty hours by Parvati's bedside, Aman knew that not once had Rudra visited
that girl as she lay, quiet and docile, in her hospital bed. Aman resented,
more than anything else, this indifference, this callous, cruel disregard of
Rudra's responsibility to the girl. They had all made mistakes. Aman had, Rudra
had, the General, the whole of the BSD had. It had been a culpable mistake, a
heinous mistake, one that had consequences they would all pay for. But they had
to accept that it had been a terrible, almost tragic thing they had done-and
they had to try to help this girl now. And it started with actually giving a
damn about this girl's health!
Nothing they could do would ever fully repay Parvati for what the BSD had done
to her, in the name of country, protection and justice. Nothing. But surely
caring about her, asking after her, finding out her physical and mental state. Surely
these things were not beyond the Jallad in this disgustingly rank, untidy
office room? Aman's eyes hardened as Rudra staggered a little, catching his
hold on the edge of the table. Normally, he would have helped Rudra
instinctively.
Right now, ignoring Rudra's wavering steps, Aman waited,
watching Rudra's expressionless face, hoping against hope. Looking for some
flicker of emotion, some concern. A moment's regret in the molten amber eyes, a
tiny softening of the granite hewn face--a small lift of the slashing eyebrows.
A goddamn clearing of his throat, a whispered syllable of the girl's name ... anything
would do. A small indication that this man in front of Aman actually had a
beating heart inside his stony facade. That he was as a feeling, breathing man
capable of actually giving a damn about something beyond himself, his pride,
his uniform, his patriotic junoon.
The silence stretched as Rudra stared back at Aman. His eyes, glittering with some unnamed
emotion, did not waver as they stared at the junior officer. He would not ask
about Parvati.
Well. Alright then.
Aman responded to Rudra's original question. Aman cold and clipped, said that
Jasheem Khan had been declared "persona non grata" for
the Chandigarth BSD officials by the BSD high ups. A much higher level of BSD
officers than just the Major and Aman would be coming in two hours to oversee
the traitor's interrogation. Kesari Ram's revelation made it clear that the
Indian Army had, for almost 8 years housed, fed, clothed and given full access
to classified security information to a dangerous traitor. Information that Jasheem Khan
had extracted from prisoners. As the interrogation expert, no one had enjoyed better
access to raw data, to secure missions details than Jasheem Khan had, after all.
They had caught a sleeper agent with intimate knowledge of
the Army's secrets, who had been posted to a hundred different Army locations
all around India. According to the Army HQ, this coup of capturing Jasheem Khan meant more than the traitor's attempted murder of one witness. He could perhaps even be turned. If Jasheem was a double agent, he
could give them information that would be incredibly valuable to India's defense
against her enemies. National security, the country's long-term fight against
radical terrorism. All this had to be more important than attempted
murder charges.
Nothing, after all, had actually happened
to Parvati Vader. For now, the attempted murder was the least of Jasheem Khan's
crimes. Aman had been told all this by General Singh, as the older man had
tried, and failed, to hide his rage and helpless anger at his superiors. Aman
repeated all this to Rudra now, mentioning how the BSD HQ did not seem to have
much of a problem with how they had treated their "hostile witness." Aman said,
his voice laced with bitterness:
"Parvati Vader's weeks of torture and her almost
murder did not bother Army brass as much as hearing about Jasheem Khan did,
Major Ranawat. General Singh was with them all last night, in Delhi. They were
not exactly happy with your techniques. But they accepted the need for
them.
Because they think it got them
results, forced Jasheem Khan to come out into the open. Proved the Thakur's
link with all this. And most importantly, your treatment of Parvati indirectly
caught them a spy. I don't think there will be any disciplinary actions from HQ
when it comes to some unknown, unimportant village girl being accidentally
caught up in such a large terrorism case. The elections are near. There is a
lot of pressure on the BSD brass to perform for the cameras right now.
You are a star BSD officer, the one man they show to the media as a shining
example of BSD's strength and dedication to BSD's cause. You don't let anything
get between you and your career. After all, we have given the people upstairs a
nice juicy headline to run with. You are a hero, sir. The media is already
talking about some big Army victory against domestic terrorism. Hints have been
strategically leaked for maximum heroic effect, I suppose.
Honestly, they might
even reward you for what happened, Major. Another star, another medal for your
uniform. I don't think the cost to Parvati matters to HQ all that much, when
they got all this in return for her torture and her pain. Congratulations sir.
It seems like you won, after all. Its true, I guess. Like you always say you
do, you got a victory from the jaws of defeat. And all it cost you was the
destruction and pain of one young village girl. Parvati."
Taking some pleasure in the way the mention
of Parvati's name had made Rudra shut his eyes for a split second, Aman tossed
the files he had brought onto the messy table, and walked out without saluting
his senior officer.
*******************************************
Strategic Thinking.
Jasheem Khan was a big believer in strategically evaluating his options,
thinking clearly and calmly, in making the right decisions, and making sure
that everything worked out for himself. He prided himself in not being a zealot,
or a fundamentalist maniac. Such fanaticism and hatred in the name of religion
was an insult to any smart, free thinking man, which was something Jasheem Khan
knew he was. But then again, in his considered opinion, so was all this heroic nonsense about patriotism
and motherland.
As Jasheem lay in his bed, in the highly secure wing of BSD
Medical, with four BSD guards posted outside for security he carefully
evaluated his options. His usefulness to the terrorist cell he had led for
eight years was over. They soon would know he had been caught. Jahseem smiled,
as he thought of the many spies he had himself injected within the BSD to help
serve his terrorist masters. The network would know he had been compromised.
They would...here he frowned. Hmm. They would try to kill him, then. But if he
revealed the spies to the BSD quickly, before the information passed on, then
they could be neutralized, before too many people found out about his capture.
Jasheem knew that one of the options he would be offered, aside from a rope
around his neck, would be to change sides. To become
a double agent.
Jasheem thoughtfully took in a sip of water. This would be the best option
really, out of everything. It would mean burning a few low level spies, and
getting transferred into a different, Covert-Ops sector of the army. He was
fine with that. His wife and children now...would he have to kill them, or maybe
arrange for their deaths? Well, it would depend on how the negotiations with the
BSD went. His family knew nothing, but if needed, he could use them as bait for the
other side to kill as retaliation against him. Nothing would convince the BSD
that he was truly their man as the news that the terrorists had killed his
family in revenge.
That could easily be arranged, and it would give him a nice
cover as a grieving man, fighting the good fight against those who had taken
his family. Well, that was a thought for later. Jasheem tossed and turned in
his bed, thinking deeply. His injuries were coming along nicely. These BSD doctors were excellent, taking care of him with true professionalism, even though he could see the disgust and fear in their faces as they bent over his leg. Thank God it was a just flesh wound! The standard of care here was great, and even this bullet wound would mend perfectly. Jasheem Khan told himself to remember to compliment the attending physician on the nursing staff.
Jasheem Khan idly lay back on his comfortable cot, his mind drifting. He did not like the BSD, with their notions of honor and valor and fair play.
These were abstract things that common soldiers drank a toast to at night and
bonded over as they dealt with death in the morning. But then again, Jasheem
Khan did not like the zealots he worked with either, who he had served for
years as a traitor to his homeland. He didn't feel any loyalty to anything. Not
to his motherland, not to the people who paid him extremely well to betray her.
He felt a loyalty, and a very deep love and regard for himself and that was
actually as far as his loyalties stretched. It made for very simple strategic
thinking, really, when the only person one needed to consider in any situation was
oneself.
Jasheem Khan been recruited almost nine years ago by his
country's enemies, because he was from a Muslim community with roots leading to
Sarhad Par. The recruiters had thought he was a psychopath, but also a
sympathizer to their cause. But since he had even less respect for religion
than he had for human life, Hindu vs Muslim nonsense had always been a
pointless argument for Jasheem Khan. He liked killing, power, torture. What
gave him greater scope to practice his craft, his calling, than being an agent
for terrorism, and--at the same time--an army man fighting for his country?
Aside
from this thirst for death and blood, Jasheem Khan believed he was a reasonable
man. He liked moderation in everything. The terrorists who used his excellent
brains and skillful services, with their mad eyes and crazy theories about good
and bad were maniacs Jasheem didn't care for one way or the other. He thought,
smiling to himself, that he, Jasheem Khan, was actually pretty reasonable and
sensible, as far as maniacs went.
It amused Jasheem Khan that the "evil" people for both his masters --the terrorists
and the BSD--were always the people on the opposite side. For the terrorists,
it made planning things like bombings and wholesale murders of innocents,
religious extremism and exploitation of women and children easier to do,
Jasheem supposed. Since he was perfectly capable of killing ten innocent people
from either side--and still going to bed without a second's guilt-- Jasheem
never listened to either side. As long as he kept killing, torturing, maiming
and hurting, Jasheem Khan was happy. And now that he had been caught. Jasheem
Khan waited, patiently, to be told his options. He was a very smart man, who
had carefully prepared for exactly such a day. One day, he had known, the BSD
would find him. Or one day the terrorists would no longer need him. In either case, he had his way out ready in his head.
But still, to need to change his practices, to need to dive back underneath the
Indian Army's blanket of oblivion. It was a little upsetting for Jasheem Khan.
What hurt him a little---well, since he didn't feel "hurt" exactly, it was
better to say what hurt his pride--was this slip-up. Not knowing anything
about Kesari Ram's confession to Aman that had included his name, Jasheem
thought that the reason for his capture had been his loss of control in that
Interrogation room. That, because of one stupid decision, his true nature had
been revealed because of one simple young girl.
Parvati Vader had upset him,
with her courage, her faith, her calm. He had revealed to her that he knew that
she was innocent, even though he was her interrogator. When she had recovered from her shock, she must have revealed
this. And of course, the BSD had come to the right conclusion--that he was their
mole--how else did he know? This was quite intolerable, Jasheem
thought, as he tossed restlessly, his leg sending shooting pains through his
body.
Her odd questions to him, just before she was about to be killed. That
quiet, simple courage. It was just not DONE, really. She should have known
better. Prisoners, victims -they really should know their proper place. They
should know their dialogue, their proper reactions. Fear, despair, hatred,
loss, fury. All of these were perfectly nice, normal, human reactions to death,
to pain and torment. When that girl had basically refused to give him anything
beyond an unearthly calm and an innocent acceptance of her fate, Jasheem had
acted out of character. He had been ...he hated to admit it, but he was nothing
if not honest...he had been impatient. He shouldn't have reached for her neck, to
see the fear in her eyes right away, to bathe in her horror and her final
moments of despair.
It had been totally unprofessional.
When he next saw Parvati Vader, Jasheem Khan decided that he would absolutely apologize to her for being so
unprofessional. She would understand, before she died at his hands, that he had not meant to
lose control. He would track her down, months later, years later. It did not matter when. He would
finish her, as he hated to leave anything half done. And that girl's eyes had
looked into his, and they had been...well. But that was for later. For now,
Jasheem thought--"Where are the BSD officials with their fat files and stupid,
slow-moving bellies and thundering, indignant booming voices?" He waited, ready
with all his plans in place.
Jasheem Khan had always liked The Boy Scout's motto-- "Be prepared."
Jasheem Khan was nothing if not prepared.
*************************************************
Yes. You are upset
with me. This part of Repentance had no Parvati or Rudra together in it--
Though I have to point out, in my defense--in the previous part they were naked
on a bed--but phir bhi mann nahi bhara
aapko! 😆.. But seriously, guys, you have to trust me. We are working towards the goal, I promise! Rudra
cannot go to Paro without facing the full enormity of what he has done to
her. And repentance literally means-- "Feel
or express sincere regret or remorse about one's sin." Note the
word--Sin. What Rudra has done so far is not sin. Heinous, immoral,
cruel. But within his guidelines as an army officer. But the next part ...wanna
know? Wanna get there? WELL...
PART THREE: https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/topic/3970836?pn=30
Edit***
Hey, I'm sorry for not coming back to this earlier, family problems had occurred. (It was bad.)
To the update- it was magnificent.
Like seriously beautifully amazingly
magnificent.
I love the fact that the characters seem to
be so thoroughly fleshed out, so you know where they're coming from when they
do something stupid, even though you want to castrate them. Yes. I'm talking
about Rudra here.
Another main example in this series is Jasheem Khan. The way he talks, how he
moves, the way he thinks both amazes
and scares the mutha freaking shit out of me.
I really am looking forward to seeing more of him in the future, he seems
completely off the goddamn rails, but in a meticulous sort of way, if you know
what I mean?
And Aman ohmygawd Aman is just my favourite. That is all.
So much darkness. So much angst. I'm
LURVIN' IT.
I live for these types of reads.
Update soon love <3
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