Distress

There’s a wish to write,

Some words forming in the mind,

It’s a rhyme, coming to the light,

There’s no topic, that’s all I need to find.

A need to stop and destress,

Just get away from the stress,

It all seems like a mess,

I guess I need a recess, to look back,

And digress, I do, really, yes.

The words are flowing,

As the tension is growing,

Precious time is going,

Is it time already, ‘cause,

I can hear the cock crowing.

The syllabus is an assumption,

Everything except the text is an addiction,

I don’t know the use, but I know the application,

I hope that’s enough, or I’ll end up facing demotion.

It’s time to go, really, no,

But studies is important, so,

I’ll stop here, in a mo,

Or I’ll end up mixing up sigma and rho.

The future seems bleak,

As the pressure is reaching its peak,

For now, marks is all I seek,

But I didn’t study before, just to not be called a geek.

Times up, the clock’s ringing,

The solutions in sight, and answers they’re bringing,

Back from immemorial, Eminem on the mute, still singing,

I’m running from them books, bored, thus cringing.

But that’s all I got to do.

The Survivors

The clock chimed, and at that precise moment, the crowd stood up as one. Knowing this little ritual perfectly, the two old men stood up on the first chime. Sitting next to each other on the first wooden bench of the congregation, the men had followed this routine for the last 10 years. On this day, they walked in with their canes, looking a lot older than the year before; their years pronounced by the wrinkles and the ever thinning white crop of hair. They closed their eyes intently and prayed in their mind, for peace. And they thanked the Lord for whatever he had done for them. Even after 10 long years, this is what they did.

As the crowd started thinning, the men started walking as well- slowly shuffling towards the warm welcome sun of September. Plodding towards the nearby lake, they sat down, their breaths heavy and the sound of their breath treacherously loud.

"It’s a decade Gad. I don’t know what made me run that day and I wasn’t even gunning for a medal."

"You should be thankful Shaul. It’s just us now. All the rest are gone."

"I’m ever thankful to the mice which allowed me to survive that ghastly night."

Shaul started coughing terribly, and continued," I guess even I won’t make it till next year."

"I’ll be damned if I will."

An evil silence ensued as the men pondered in the present. Cracking the ice, Shaul said," I can’t believe it’s so long. It feels like it was just yesterday. I can still feel the pain in my legs as the gravel on the path tore the skin, and let my body fluids slip out, red and slow. I can hear the soft echo of the guns chirping, and the cries of our colleagues, as they were slowly consumed by the flames in the Sikorsky. It still feels so similar to me."

"I agree with you Gad. But we survived. I don’t know how, and nor do you." Stopping for breath, he went on," I can now agree to whatever the press said about us in those days. You remember the title they had used for us?"

"The Survivors. I think we did that name justice."

The silence enlarged as the men dissolved deep into their thought, and reminisced those moments again. It was so clear in their weak eyes, that they could have argued it was real. And the reel of real life came on, as time rolled back and transferred them to that niche of their past. That gargoyle which had made them value signs, and had made them respect an entity we called God. And along with this, they remembered the fear of the moment. The guns blazing, and the cracks and the blasts and the booms and the screams and the screeches. There had been nothing they could do to help their friends out, but they had escaped, and they had survived.

From the distance, a shriveled figure approached them. Walking with a metal cane, the man looked completely fit, and not in any pain as well. Surprised with this, the pair started to get up, and to leave the place unnoticed.

“I’d not do that if I were you Ali. You will agree with me if you see the glints at 9 o’clock, and 3 o’clock,” the old man said in an American accent, and tipped his hat to show off his shock of brown hair under the inconspicuous white wig.

“I did notice them briefly but I ignored them. Now will you say who you are,” said ‘Gad’. His voice had changed from the feeble, wavering voice to one with a husky young drawl to it. Along with this, the pronounced German accent had changed to a weird accent, lined with the undertone of the Middle East.

“Stop moving or I’ll blow your intestines over the place. Just tell us your name and your business with us. And if I’d be you, I wouldn’t delay in that. You can check things out at 12’o clock and 6’o clock,” said Shaul, his tone changed drastically as well.

“Well well. I wouldn’t make too much of your empty threats, as its 10 years since you both left the field. And Sheikh, remove your hand from under you tweed jacket.  These snipers I’ve brought with me do not like their subjects twitching and moving.

“We have some secret business with you regarding that day. I hope you remember what I’m talking about. And it’s too big a secret to talk about in a park on a park bench. I’m now going to walk to a waiting car, and I expect you to do the same. I don’t want you both dying under weird circumstances, eh?”

He got up and nodded. A car pulled up to the sidewalk, just opposite the bench. Before leaving, he continued.

“Regarding what you did a decade earlier, in Munich, I’d have thought your names would be a bit different. Nice thought to take on the identities of the wrestler and the runner, who were probably killed by you. And regarding the job, it’s something you both are very good at- survival. But this time, you will be stealing someone’s life to survive.”

With this mysterious dialogue, the ‘young’ old man started walking to the car. Ali and Sheikh looked at each other with a grim expression and started following. Reaching into his pocket, Ali removed a handkerchief to wipe a bead of sweat trickling down his brow, as the sniper in the distance fingered his trigger hungrily.

Tense..

Stationery littered around and books to be read,

The clock racing ahead,

Pressure building on my head.

The Strange Meeting

The shack stood at the bank. The clear water of the Volga had frozen to create a smooth pathway; even smoother than the roads. Desolated in the darkness, the place was seldom clustered with tourists, or even the locals. But now, there stood a vehicle. A shiny Bentley; complete with government plates, tinted windows, and bulletproof glass; and it was the automobile of Victor Petrov-one of the most influential men of the country.

The dim light from the hut just touched the vehicle as it stood there alone in the cold. Screams and groans of ecstasy pierced the silent night air as the man and woman inside moved to the tune of each other. It had been 7 years since Victor had visited the place. And today, he had returned. He had been forced to go back; back to his old life. Because he had relived his past, a past he had not wished for. And he did not wish for it to return. He wanted to end everything…and that would happen…today.

The shriek of the telephone slashed through the dream. It had been a sunny day, and he had been sitting with Ilyanova; flirting and charming her with his dialogues. The shrill intrusion brought back the real world back to him. The clock on the stand beside his bed shouted out the time-0435 hrs! Accustomed to these interruptions, his hand moved mechanically in the darkness towards the ringing contraption, and as he heard what was said, he jumped up in bed-shocked. “No! This cannot be happening again,” he exclaimed hysterically into the night as he banged the receiver and hurried to the bathroom to put on a fresh suit.

“I am extremely sorry to disturb you at this unearthly hour sir, but this emergency requires yours and the Politburo’s instant attention,” Victor said courteously into the phone even though he wanted to scream it out.

“Just get it out of your mouth, you idiot,” the voice at the other end said insolently.

“An American aircraft carrier has just been detected 2500 nautical miles from our borders, sir. It has the military capacity to annihilate the whole of the capital or any of our towns. The General has ordered an emergency meeting at the Cave at 0600 hours. I am just doing my duty of informing you about this catastrophe,” Victor replied, his voice strained with anger.

“I will call the others. We will all be there. You better be on time Petrov, we do not want Mother Russia to be insulted because of a minor snag caused by you.” And the line went dead.

The drive in the Bentley unfortunately took more time than expected. Even though he drove recklessly through the slippery streets of St. Petersburg, Victor reached the Cave an enormous 17 minutes late.

“I told you to reach on time, you blithering idiot! We have been sitting here without knowing what the exact situation is for 20 minutes,” bellowed the Army General.

“I apologize profusely for my lateness, but I was hindered by the slippery roads. USS Eisenhower has been detected by our Kilo Class submarine just 2500 nautical miles from our shores. On being contacted, the ship’s commander has informed us that this is just a routine exercise and that the carrier means no harm. This carrier is the largest the United States Navy has, and at this time, it is carrying weapons that could wipe out a whole nation,” informed Victor.

Sighs lined the air which was heavy with blue smoke from the imported cigars smoked by the Politburo.

“We need to mobilize the entire Baltic Fleet at once! This is an emergency! We are again at war with US of A. Violent jerks, all of them. Let’s blow them all up at once,” said the General. This dialogue was welcomed with claps, and almost all of the members agreed at once.

“We should think of this from another angle as well. This may really be a training exercise. The rough weather in the region north of the Bering’s sea proves extremely suitable for naval exercises. This strip has attracted navies from all around the world, and it is we who have started using this region for this specialist reason,” conflicted Victor.

“You know nothing of this lad. This country has been very well-known to attack on the pretexts of exercises. This was visible to the world when they invaded Afghanistan. You have provided us with the information, now you may please shut your mouth and attend the whole meeting or you may get out of our sight at this moment,” bickered the already enraged Army General.

Looking on for a moment, Victor stood in silence. The meeting reconvened, and the muttering recommenced.

His voice thick with anger, Victor roared,” You old General, you have lost your touch. Why should we sacrifice the precious lives of our soldiers? Why should we again get provoked by them? Why should we fight with them again and that to without concrete knowledge of the situation? I have just returned some years prior to this day and I have seen the condition of our patriotic comrades. But you have not seen a battlefield since 2 decades. They live for days in the immense cold, without proper food, drink or shelter. But why do you care? You just have to be politically correct with your decision.”

“Get out of my sight right now. And do not return. Or I will have you shot for treason,” bellowed the General at this angry lecture.

“Of course I will. But I promise you that after this imprudent decision, there will be nothing left for me to return to. Because the US Navy won’t leave anything. We won’t be able to defend our nation; because they are stronger,” replied Victor as he headed for the door.

The day had passed as he thought about what he should do about this decision. He had to do something. He cursed, swore abusively, and even cried at his helplessness. At last he thought of visiting one of his old comrades. Someone who had supported him at all times; had been successful in cooling him down and seeping the frustration out of him. He jumped into the Bentley and drove off to the shack near the Volga, to meet his old darling. He hoped she would recognize him. And she would help him…for old times’ sake. He just hoped…