The Lull Before The Storm
He stared silently into the looming horizon, giving himself time to gather his overburdened thoughts and commingled emotions, which had been lately streamlined to the matter at hand, blissfully unaware of his dark surroundings, bathed in the silvery light of the full moon. If he had noticed, he would have seen the picturesque moon flitting across magnanimous clouds, overpowering the feeble light given off by the twinkling stars around. The night was alive with the acrid smell of tension all around him, but he sought comfort in his distant and far off thoughts. It is at these times, he thought, that some etched memories can bring solace to a well-prepared but stressed mind.
The invigorating image of his beloved mother began to take shape in his thoughtful mind, her sweeping smile spreading the much needed warmth and affection through his entire body. His mouth suddenly started watering as he envisioned the delicious food that she would prepare when her obedient son would join her after he completed the task at hand. He smiled at the stick his mother used to wield in his childhood, her dupatta wrapped around her round and attractive head, getting him to study. He laughed at the tantrums he used to throw when she tried to force him to eat vegetables, for he used to love the soft and juicy tandoori chicken she used to lovingly prepare with her delicate hands. In his childhood, his mother used to play cricket with him, taking on the mantle of a father he never had. He was a good student, for he listened attentively to the sermons delivered by his neighbourhood mullah, always inquisitive for more information. Dexterous that he was, he always used to fiddle with various instruments, creating something, albeit insignificant, in the process. He was quite popular among his friends, always cracking new jokes and endearing himself to everyone around him. He liked to try out new things with his inquisitive mind, always finding out the subtle nuances of things around him, but he was quite shy when it came to the matter of girls.
His thoughts drifted on to the other woman in his life, the lovely Nausheen. Her pretty face, sculpted perfectly with sharp lines and kohled eyes which looked deep inside him, refused to leave his adolescent dreams. He remembered the time when he had beseechingly asked his mother to lend him some money to buy her beautiful roses. Her low and beguiling voice had thanked him; she turned away and ran into her house, her tinkling anklets making a divine sound. From then, there was no looking back, for the couple spent most of the time together, with the village postman playing the part of a soothsayer, describing the relationship in verbiage to anyone who lent an ear. She was breathtakingly beautiful, with many an admirer flocking the streets to catch a glimpse of her when she used to trot happily to the market to buy fruits and vegetables. He always caught a whiff of the sweet jasmine fragrance whenever he met her; he never knew jasmine could be so titillating. He ran her soft long wavy hair through his fingers and it only made his desire for her stronger.
A distant hoot of a steamer jolted his thoughts and he was yanked back into the present. He looked all around but couldn't spot anything amiss against the backdrop of the dark sky and the murky waters. He cast a look at his fellow benighted travelers, standing grimly, carrying a heavy burden on their shoulders, never griping about it.
The cut scene shifted to him wielding a polished AK-47, aiming at a target a few hundred metres away, his steady hand hardened by months of gruelling training, his mind whitewashed by the macabre and horrifying tales his instructor told him. He and his brethren were part of a special ghetto; training in a desolate and decrepit building far away from civilization. His skill with small tools came in handy at this important stage in his life and he was proud that his instructor had chosen him over all the other boys in his village. It was extremely hard at first, but having given up all worldly desires, he just concentrated on his rigorous training, which had proved fruitful to him. Unlike others, he called his instructor abba, and sought his help and advice beyond the training grounds. Abba realized that the boy’s mental fortitude was a key factor in the success of what he was training them for. He had given the boy a silver talisman for luck.
He touched the silver piece of jewelry hung around his neck and looked around him. He could see the shore in the far off distance. Around him, his fellow travelers were getting ready. He too opened his bag, checked that everything was in position and hurled it on his back. Without a word they hugged each other; there was no need to say anything as the plan had already been hatched and rehearsed a number of times. They were on schedule and although he did feel consternation, he disregarded it, concentrating instead on the distant shoreline. There, he saw it. The enchanting dome, lit up beautifully, served as a beacon of light against the night sky. He was told it was one of the finest pieces of architecture in the country and was famous the world over. Well, it had to be, they had chosen it as the target. His fellow traveler whispered, “Ajmal bhai” and silently pointed towards his watch. Ajmal looked at his digital watch and pressed the button for illumination. It was 10.30 PM, on the night of 26th November, 2008. Time for action.
