Musing Reminisce

    Mumbai 2010 There was an artist on the street. ’Pakoda, garma garam Pakoda’ Screaming on the top of his voice the elderly man was trying to draw the crowds in.  A black mole on his left cheekbone was very prominent.  A vermilion tilak adorned his head. The burly moustached street vendor went about frying and selling his ware. He was in his makeshift shop which was a cart in a corner of the busy Mumbai street selling these pakoras. The crowded street was hustling and bustling with activity. The beautiful aroma of these savoury snacks filled the air  The fried fritters were limited in variety to just three types Onion, sliced potato and spinach.  Of the three, the Onion pakoras were the most popular. They sold like hotcakes. The vendor gently dropped in small portions of the spiced onion, gram flour dough in the hot oil. Frying on medium heat stirring occasionally for even frying he would then scoop out golden fried pieces from the oil in the black cast i...

11 September 2001 Mr Cucaracha was on Ground Zero.  He was covered in white ash. Looking around, all he saw was devastation. There was rubble and paper flying.  Dead bodies -- some whole, some dismembered but all burnt, were strewn around.  Along with the smells of burning fuel, wood, plastic and melting metals, the stench of burning bodies and death was thick in the air.  The flames had erupted when suicide bombers had crashed commercial passenger planes into the buildings.   Cucaracha was a bit weak but had survived.  He was lucky he did not get directly exposed to the fire and flames.   It would have been RIP!!  He would have become, ’Late Mr Cucaracha.’ ----------////---------- When the suicide bombers had attacked he was on the    85th floor of the North Tower of the World Trade Centre complex in Lower Manhattan. The first plane an American Airlines Flight 11 had hit his building between 93 and 99th floor. Seventeen minute...

To, Mr Drake.  He recognised her writing. The letter had arrived through the normal channel of communication that they used. It had come through the secret courier who had managed to smuggle it out from the cantonment. Drake -- His name, Kedar, was written cryptically on the envelope. It was an anagram. It had a dried blot of blood on it. He opened the envelope.  Inside the envelope, there was green chilli and a very small piece of charcoal wrapped in a sheet of paper. It was a crumpled blank sheet of paper. The blot of blood on the envelope brought back a rollercoaster of memories. Memories that took him almost five years back. Memories that took him back to his college days. Memories that took him back to his first love. Love at first sight.  A very beautiful sight. ----------////---------- Their paths first crossed on the college campus as they completed admission formalities.   Their eyes met.  That was as far as they got that day.  A week later on...

 Early February  1944   The ’forest’ would be used to kill him -- Black Forest. One of the first plans to assassinate him was to bomb the special train that he travelled in. They had extensive experience of derailing trains using explosives.  However, they had to drop this plan as his schedule was too irregular and unpredictable: stations were informed of his arrival only a few minutes beforehand. They have to scrap this plan. Another plan was proposed. Put some tasteless but lethal poison in the drinking water supply on the special train. However, this plan was considered too complicated. This was also scrapped. The ’black forest’ plan that came up was a brainwave of the youngest in the room. It was doable.  It would need an inside man but it was doable.  All six hands went up in unison. The decision was unanimous.  Her plan could be executed.   They would use the black forest plan. Cyanide would have to be used. The word is derived from the Gree...