For he who sheds his blood with me today, shall be my brother...

"Gather all my Men, General ", said the prince with a tone of finality to his most trusted of the men. "All gather around ! All men gather ! for the prince wishes to have words with you o brave soldiers of Gederland", roared the general's voice in the otherwise quiet forest. All the soldiers gathered around the boulder that prince Ulrich was standing on.

"Our position in the battle is not hidden from you o brave men. We are heavily outnumbered and surrounded by the enemy forces on three sides. I see just two paths from here. Either we fight and perish or we retreat and live the rest of our lives in shame ! What shall it be?? Tell me my men ! For you have fought with such gallance and bravery that it would dwarf the deeds of the gods themselves ! I wish to hear from ye ! "

"FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT !", boomeranged the voices of the soldiers as they shouted in unison.

"Very well ! I had expected none less from you brave souls. We fight today , we fight for our lands. Lands that our forefathers have walked on. We fight for the lands that have nurtured our families for generations. We fight today for everything that we believe in. I fight today to redeem my pledge to my nation and my Father. You shall fight today for your sons and their sons and many more generations of Gederland which shall walk these lands as free men. For every drop of blood that we shed today, thousands of our men and women shall remember us. They will remember us as a few brave men who stood against tyranny. They shall remember us as few who stood against many and did not retreat, not even in the face of certain death. Behold for you are to become a part of legends and folklores as few brave men who laid down their lives so that their people could live without fear.Yes, true words I speak. None of us shall return to the comfort of our homes today, for we fight for something greater, something more important. We fight for our freedom and the freedom of our people ! And what greater honour for us than to die as free men fighting on the batlle field . It has been an honor to have fought by your side and it shall be a greater honor to have dies by yours, o brave men ! For he who sheds his blood with me today, shall be my brother..."

CBI Chronicles - I

He sat thinking on a bench in the park, right behind the tree. This hid him from the people's view. Not that anyone would see him at this time in the night. But the paranoia inside him always made him extra aware and extra careful even when doing most trivial of the chores. He thrived on anonymity. It was like nutrition for his psyche. Even the slightest hints of recognition from people unnerved him and he quickly disappeared when confronted with such situations. The condo in which he lived had no tell tale signs of occupation. He bought everything on his own from the super market. He didn't even have a newspaper subscription. He though it would attract unnecessary attention if he went out for a few days and the newspapers kept accumulating. Such was the meticulousness of his thoughts.

His sense of awareness was at its most heightened state. It was the first time that he had committed a mistake and now he feared being discovered. His victim had escaped. He cursed himself for not being extra careful while handling her. He chewed onto his lips as he got up and walked at a frantic pace looking around for the girl. The taste of blood inside his mouth had a therapeutic effect on him. It calmed him. He chewed the inside of his lips even harder, the pain and the fear made him feel mortal. He took the right from the park's exit. "Think, where could she have gone in such a state.", he told himself. He had made shallow cuts all over her legs with the special blades he had himself created. Earlier, the State Police Department had found bodies of two victims on separate occasions. Both were girls in their twenties. The autopsy had revealed the cause of death due to extreme blood loss and trauma. The common thing between them was that their whole body had shallow cuts, which were made in a particular fashion. Almost art like.

Along with the bodies the police had also found similar kind of notes, the one with the last victim read;

"To what people call the end, I call it just the beginning,
  The lives worthless, have ended in glory,
  For vain bodies have been converted into pieces of art,
 And this be just the beginning, and the morgue's will be full in no time.
 For soon, I shall give the world my next masterpiece."
   -- divinus artificem
  
In the meanwhile, back at the bureau Special Agent Melissa Rovers flipped the note over and over. Something was gravely wrong here she felt. Just then Agent Vincent knocked at her cabin door.
"Boss, I think you will want to take a look at this. The surveillance department just found something. And they believe it might be connected with the twin murders."


...to be continued...

The Dark Night !

Its dark...My eyes try to align themselves to the sudden dearth of light...Ears already numb from the sudden and severe attack of tunes. I see a swarm of bodies, swaying and gyrating to the thumping of the beats. The social recluse inside me resents the sight of so many people. But nevertheless, I push and shove to find a place to stand. All around me I see people high on music and alcohol and some of the more adventurous ones have taken their share of dope. For a man who achieves his highs from meditation and pranayams (breathing exercises), this world is alien.


The energy inside the packed room is palpable. Its Saturday, after all. After working so hard throughout the week all people want to do is get rid of their frustration and anger. The absence of lights is soothing, the anonymity almost cathartic, the music overwhelming. Its a recipe to wash away your woes, and people don't mind paying the price. This whole crowd resembles one big organism, trying to find its way. I see feet moving and hands waving all around. I feel lost. Absence of alcohol inside me makes things worse. I don't feel light like others, and the constant intake of red bull has only heightened my awareness. I concentrate on the music, it indeed is good. The heavy beats give it an almost trance like feeling. My mind finally feels at peace, drowning in the music I have found my high. My feet start moving and I too feel overwhelmed now. Though the absence of spirits in my veins is a dampener, but I feel better.


As the music reaches a crescendo, the crowd experiences a collective orgasm. The music has stopped, the people are tired but still they want more. The synchronised swaying gives way to cacophonous and distorted rumbling.


I too make my way out. All around me, I see a variety of faces. But the one thing common between them is contentment. They all seem exhausted, but happy at the same time. Who said you couldn't catch a glimpse of Ecstasy for a price. Sure you can !

Master of the Game.

His feet gained momentum as he drew closer to his target. He quickly glanced sideways to ensure that no one was watching him. His heart pounded violently as if it was going to burst any moment. He was unsure as to why only he was chosen by his boss Don Rici to do the job. He was a rookie who had joined the gang only a few months ago. And such complicated jobs were given to only the most seasoned men inside the gang. Nevertheless, he thought, if I do the job right I will earn respect inside the gang and if lucky the boss would  give me an independent area to handle like the others.He tried to bring his mind to focus on the job at hand.

His instructions were clear, he was to enter the office on the first floor at the 13th Avenue and tell the man at the reception counter that he was there to meet Mr. Gold, the boss, regarding her daughter. Once inside the room he was told to blindly shoot all inside and quickly make his way down through the fire exit. His mind was tired by the constant ringing of the thoughts and the lurking fear. He tried to think of a number, the number of people that he would have to kill. He hoped the casualties to be less, after all the target was just Mr Gold, then why was he asked to shoot everybody in the room, he pondered. May be the don wanted to make an example of Mr. Gold for opposing don Rici's business venture he thought as he moved along the pavement with an alarming ferocity. The horizontal creases on the forehead almost stitching together, the clenched jaws, the pressed lips. These were signs enough for any smart security personnel to make out that Mark was determined to kill.

When he was assigned the task in the first place, he had objected. His father worked in the same office. He couldn't face his Father with a gun in his hand and an intent to kill his Father's boss he had argued. He was assured by the Don himself that his father would not be present when he went for the kill and would not come in harm's way if he did the job right. He had felt a sense of security then, because everybody knew that Don Rici was a man of his word. "Why does Mr. Gold have to die?", he had asked and the Don had smiled. Coming close the Don rested his hand on Mark's shoulder. "My boy, sometimes a few people need to go to make the lives of many, less miserable. Mr. Gold is one of those few people and I and you are one amongst the many. So you see I am doing this world a service by getting rid of him." Though Mark had not understood what the Don meant, but he was elated as this was his first meeting the the Don and he had called Mark 'his boy'. This only meant that the Don had plans for him. Plans that would help him move up in the gang and become one of the veterans, and with a little luck a lieutenant may be. He felt elated after the meeting.

Just then he was asked by the consigliere to go to the market with another boy from the gang to buy somethings that the Don himself was in need of. The moment he left the house, a call had been made from the Don's house to Mr. Davis , Mark's father and Manager at Mr Gold's firm. "Hi, Mr Davis", spoke the Don. "I hope you still remember me", he added. On the other side of the line, Davis had frozen with fear.  "How can I forget your voice or your face, you are a murderer for gods sake, and so is your son !", he trembled as he spoke. "Let us not get stuck with things in the past Davis. I had called you to tell that your son is a smart chap and that within a few days of joining my family, he has earned quite some reputation"
"oh, you goddamn liar ! My son would never com near you.. your hear me. never. let alone working for you. I know you are afraid that my testimony in the case will nail your son. you are doing all this to prevent me from going to the court. aren't you?"
"I am a reasonable man, Mr Davis. I would never threaten anyone. I believe that decision should be taken by choice and not force. If you do not believe me, that's Fine ! You can go to the market at 31st street right now. you will find your son there with one of my boys at Finny's oil shop."

Mr Davis took his coat and hurried out of his office towards the market. He still couldn't believe what Don Rici had told him over the phone. How could he? How dare he? thought Mr. Davis as he stood on the pavement waiting for a cab. 

 Mr. Davis was the sole witness of a murder that Don Rici's son Marco had committed almost an year ago. Though initially apprehensive he had decided to testify against Marco after Mr. Gold had coaxed him to. Though his son was furious about it, he decided to go forth with it.The day Mr. Davis had decided to testify, Mr. Gold had called up the consigliere to Don Rici. "I have heard that a certain Mr. Davis has decided to testify against Marco. I believe that if this news is true, it could mean trouble for Marco. However I can stop this from happening. I have also wished good for the Rici family and wish to assist the family at the time of their need. But, I have one small favor to ask in return from the Godfather. I want to his assurance that I will be allowed to operate in New York and my business will be harmed in no way and that I shall have his full co-operation. In return I am also willing to pay the Godfather his share in my earnings."  The consigliere had immediately informed the Don. After a few days, he had called in Jack, his consigliere, and told him to arrange a meeting with Mark. Mark was introduced to him by one of the gang members as a good chap and that if hired could be useful to the family. The Don had signalled Jack to take over the matter. Jack had called Mark and had told him that the Don himself wanted to brief him about his first assignment. It is in this meeting that he was given the job of killing Mr. Gold.

Back at market, Mr Davis had confronted his son and a big verbal duel had followed. Mark went on to say that his job was none of his father's business and that he had finally found a respectable work for himself. Mr. Davis tried to reason with him but Mark just wouldn't understand. Mark had zoomed off with his accomplice in the family's car. Dejected Mr. Davis had taken a cab home instead of the office. ''Mark still blames me for his Mother's death, I wish he would have understood that it wasn't my fault".

Mark reached the first floor of the office and did as instructed. Once he entered the room he had opened fire and instantly killed Mr. Gold. There was no one else present. Relieved, he turned around and saw Peter, his accomplice from the market. Mark was flustered and before he could ask anything, Peter pumped in 3 bullets into Mark's chest. Mark slumped and as things started blurring, he saw his father's body being laid next to him. It is then he realised the whole set up. His Father was dead. Peter before leaving the room, placed the revolver in Mark's hands. Suddenly a murder scene had become a multiple homicide scene. The Godfather was told of the events and he sighed.
"Jack, I knew of the boy's intentions even before he came to us, a friend at the bureau had informed me. He was good except that he underestimated the man in me."

Next day, The Godfather held up the newspaper to read, the headline read : "Son kills father over disagreement. Employer also killed in the episode." His lips curled into a slight smile as he read on through the article. It was a cruel world out there, he thought and sipped on to his black tea.

Writer's Block - I will prevail !

Writer's block... It is one hell of a problem to deal with. Whenever I face this empty white screen on blogspot, I feel it is an exact reflection of my mind. Blank...Zilch...No thoughts at all... I try to make sense but it evades me. I try to write but word's just don't flow.. I choke on thoughts.. Down but not out, I sigh !

Soon and soon enough I will have something to write I think as I reflect on things going on in my life.

Success is failure turned inside out -
The silver tint in the clouds of doubt,

And you never can tell how close you are,

It might be near when it seems afar;

So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit -

It's when things seem worst that you must not quit.

These lines from a poem I used to recite in childhood usher into the surface of my memory. Hope it is after all that drives the world around !