AGENT DUTTA

My eyes fluttered open and instantly shut down due to the blinding light. I tried to rise but the stiffness of my body immediately brought me down and I groaned with pain. Where was I?

I decided to recall all that I could. My name is Arun Dutta. I was a part of the Special forces deployed to attack the major terrorist base camps around the world. Wait – what was I doing here then? I distinctly remember someone’s continuous voice before I drifted off into unconsciousness. Why I was hearing a story in the land of the terrorists where death could strike without a moment’s notice was beyond me. Still, I could vouch that someone was telling a story. Who was telling the story? And whose story was it anyway? The words fluttered and flew in the wind.

My head aching with all the thinking decided to go in inactive mode at that instant and I once again plunged into a deep slumber. I had been asleep for hours. The bright sunlight that had momentarily blinded me a few hours ago had given way to the dark abyss of night. I was lying on a bed with a comfortable pillow tucked under my head.

I suddenly became aware of muffled sounds. This cottage was inhabited then – by civilians or enemies? Well, I wouldn’t wait to figure out. This was unfriendly territory and if these people had been kind enough to spare my life till now, I wouldn’t over-stretch their welcome. I removed the sheets from over me and got off the bed.

With some difficulty, I made my way to the window. It was two feet above the ground. Ha! I had survived fifty feet jumps, this was way too easy. Wait – fifty feet. As I tried to clutch on that faint trace of memory, it disappeared completely, gone as quickly as a flash of light in the night sky. I tried to get my legs over the window sill – but the movement cost me my remaining energy and I hastily grabbed the window sill to soften the inevitable fall before I collapsed onto the hard wooden floor. The floor creaked and moments later, I felt a cool touch on my forehead. I lifted my head and looked into deep, almond-shaped green eyes before unconsciousness engulfed me.

“Now captain, one last chance. Cooperate with us and you can return to the comfort of your home. There would be no one to sing your praise if you suddenly go missing on a mission.”, the captor said and bought the cold messenger of death to the centre of my forehead. “Choose, captain – life or loyalty.”, he stated.

I smiled, looked up into those cold dark eyes and stated – “Ask me a hundred lives later and my reply will still be the same. My country – loyalty.” The gun clicked.

I awoke with a start, sweating heavily.

“Easy now.”, someone said laying me back on the bed again.

I looked at the person and her calm green eyes calmed me.

“Your fever finally broke this morning. You are still in a fragile state though. So don’t go jumping out of the window again, at least not for a week.”

“Yeah, I believe I’ve outdone my quota of falling unconscious today.”, I said. A faint smile danced on her lips.

“Where am I?”, I asked.

“Huraa it's a fishing village in the Maldives.”

Again, it didn’t explain why I was here in the first place.

“Any idea how I came here?”, I asked.

“The villagers found you in a mangrove swamp. You dropped out of the sky by a parachute”.

“Why don’t I remember a thing?”, I sighed.

“You were shot in the head by a bullet.”, she stated.

An old lady with auburn hair and a warm smile entered the room along with an old man at that instant.

“Amma, appa, he is finally awake.”, she said as those two came in complete view.

“Hello dear, how are you feeling now?”, the lady named Anju asked.

“Alright.”, I said hoarsely.

“He needs water. Aiham, fetch a glass of water.”, the man called out, pulling a chair next to the bed.

“We were quite worried about you. But Zeena was confident you would wake up soon. Quite a miracle she did – nursing you back to health.”, he said and I saw a glint of pride in his eyes, the same pride my father had when –

The memory completely vanished.

“Thank you.”, I whispered to her.

She nodded in acknowledgement. A young lad entered the room.

“This is my son, Aiham.”, the man introduced him as he handed me a glass of water.

A wave of calmness swept over me as soon as the cool liquid entered my throat. Whoever said – water is the elixir of life, was an honest guy. I could vouch for him.

“You are safe here, son. Rest now.”, the old mad said as they all got up.

“I will bring some hot fish soup for you and you will be up and fine in no time.”, Anju said warmly. I wondered how many fish dishes I would be experiencing in the coming days. Thank God I was a non-vegetarian.

The next morning Zeena took me to the fishing grounds. About a hundred fishermen – ranging from 15 year olds to past 50 years had gathered at the shore and were preparing their boats to go on their daily errand.

They all wore lungis and vests to beat the heat. I watched as they loaded hooks, lines and other fishing tackles in their boats. The men cast their boats ashore, shouting in a language that was as comprehensible to me as ancient Greek.

“They are speaking in Dhivehi - our native language.”, she explained.

“So you’re a doctor?”, I asked. I was not exactly a talkative person, I never had been one but something about her made me want to talk to her.

“Yes.”, she replied.

We returned to their cottage a few hours later. While Zeena helped her mother in the kitchen, I lazed around in their garden. Anju was absolutely horrified by the idea of an injured guest offering to help. So I had gone out of the house while her mother blabbered in Dhivehi and Zeena had quite a good laugh at my plight.

“Breakfast is ready.”, she called out.

I came in and saw bowls filled with fish curry placed on the table with another huge bowl of rice, that resembled a small bucket.

“Zeena, you all are organising a village feast today?”, I asked.

“Oh, no. This is all for you.”, she smiled.

“You’re joking right?”, I asked helplessly.

“No, not at all.

“Oh God save me.”, I pleaded as I sat down at the table.

Since that day Anju had taken it as her mission to compensate for my “poor appetite” . Well, I wasn’t complaining either – her cooking was that good. But I had to work, I wasn’t used to being pampered.

So, a few days later, I went out fishing with the men. I watched as they cast their nets, the fishes got trapped and they lifted the fishes out from the nets through baskets and threw them in one corner. A short time later, I had mastered the art and usefully assisted in this errand.

Meanwhile, flashbacks and dreams continued in my sleep. Glimpses from the wars I had fought, the training I had undergone – but none of them connected in a proper image to form a definite fact, a memory that could explain what I was doing here.

I started going for running and slowly built my stamina. Lifting weights, exercising and practicing martial arts moves became a part of my daily early morning routine which was followed by a day of catching fishes, taking walks with Zeena in the evening and helping out with basket weaving before heading for sleep.

I was determined to get my body back into shape. The moment I would get my memory back – my mission back – I won’t waste a single minute.

Two weeks later, the monsoons had arrived and the streams and rivers were flooding. The fishermen now went out for fishing only when the weather permitted.

As I continued on my run, I arrived near a river which was far away from the mainland. I was just turning to head back for the house, when I heard a faint scream. I followed the sound further along the stream and caught the sight of a young boy struggling in the currents of water. The stream was flooded.

I had to save the boy. I ran towards the shore. But did I myself know swimming? As I reached the shore, I decided I had to take my chances.

I jumped into the water where the flow was less. I was instantly caught up in the current and began to lose control. The boy’s screams were dying out. He was losing consciousness. I managed to swim across to the boy. My skills were rusty but enough to wade my way across. I grabbed him and tried to pull him towards me but he wouldn’t budge. I figured his leg must be caught in some weed under the water. So I dived down. I had to rise to the surface again, I needed more air. But the boy didn’t have that much time. I tugged at the weed hard and after a couple of vain attempts, managed to free his foot. I was struggling for air now – it was a near death situation. My survival instincts awoke. My memory was revived and I thrashed my legs, rising to the surface with the boy. I gasped for air as soon as I reached the surface. The boy had fallen unconscious in my arms but thankfully he was alive – I could feel his pulse.

I went to the shore and applied pressure on his chest, forcing water out of his lungs. He coughed and awoke with a start. Once he started breathing normally, I carried him back to his house. His parents were both shocked and surprised to see him drenched in water but still alive.

“Oh thank you so much for saving my child. He’s always wandering alone in the swamps and streams, looking for trouble.”, his mother said.

“Hey, young man”, I said sitting down on one knee, and looked at him, “Next time you go wandering, make sure you have someone with you, who can get you out of trouble.”

He nodded enthusiastically. He reminded me of my childhood. The shock of almost drowning had done it –had brought my memory back, had reminded me that I had a mission to complete.

I went back to the house, dressed in dry clothes and went to eat with the family.

“Come, sit down.”, Anju said beckoning me to the table where another huge breakfast had been laid. Yes, you guessed it right - fish.

“I want to thank you all for your hospitality. I recovered my memory today. And realised I still have a very important mission to complete. I’ve already lost much precious time and cannot afford to waste a single minute more. I’ll be leaving today.”, I explained.

“I can take you to the main town by our boat today. You will find transportation to wherever you want there.”, the old man said.

“Good luck.”, Zeeshan said.

Anju was a bit hard to deal with and insisted on making me carry three bags of food. After the entire family’s persuasion, she agreed on letting me depart with a bottle of water, and two containers of fish dishes and rice. I packed my uniform and bid the family goodbye.

I met Zeena in the garden before departing.

“Come back safe.”, she said and hugged me.

I hugged her back, “I will, I promise you and I’ll also avoid jumping in the water.” She had given me a good scolding for “being careless”.

She laughed and wished me luck. I set ashore with ‘appa’ and reached the main town where we parted. I took a phone and dialled a number, I didn’t depend on technology to remember.

“Ahaan Frand speaking.”, a familiar voice answered.

“General, this is Arun Dutta.”, I stated.

A long pause was followed by this question – “Give proof of your identity.”

“The fleet has been struck.”, I stated the code which was given to only me by the general to communicate to him as the captain of the special forces.

“It is you then. Where in the world are you?”, he said.

“Huraa. General, I’ll explain everything later. Right now, we have limited time. I need a few things.”, I said.

“Name them.”

“ID, passport, ticket to Iran – all under a false identity, money, arms and twenty of your best soldiers.”

“An agent named Rajat will hand over the documents to you at the townhouse of Huraa.”

“Who do I look for?”

“A man with a limp in the right leg. The codeword he’ll say is ‘The fleet must go on’.”

“Alright.”

“And soldier?”

“Yes?”

“Make it out of there alive.”

The line beeped and I returned the phone to the man I had taken it from.

As I sat in the plane, I remembered it all - being deployed in the special forces, leading soldiers from across the world, eliminating one terrorist camp after the other and reaching the final camp in Iran. We had ran into an ambush there, someone had tipped off the terrorists and we walked right into the trap. When they realized they couldn’t extract information from me, they finally decided to use me as a hostage to free their leader. The bullet that I remembered striking me was actually a drug they had used to make me unconscious. I awoke on the plane they were using to transport us.

I nudged the soldier next to me who informed me there were six armed guards and one pilot. We were in a chopper and were going to India as hostages. There were five of us, all were tied. They had been pretty careless in tying me – considering the fact that I was supposed to be unconscious for weeks.

I opened the knots of my hands, keeping a watch on the armed guards and pretending to be helpless and unconscious whenever one of them looked at us. I managed to open the knots of the fellow next to me and slowly all of us had our hands free.

“ Legs.”, I whispered.

We began opening the knots around our legs while the leader of our captors was telling his men the story of his life. With a sense of pride, he recounted his childhood days, his early days of training and his various expeditions.

“Disarm one guard each when I give the signal. Take away their rifle at any cost. Wait for my signal.”, my message was passed around and all four of my team members nodded in response.

I put my thumb up and we tip-toed towards them. We hit them in the back. They were taken by surprise. Still they outnumbered us and their man had the plane in his control. We had to hurry.

“Ajay, search for parachutes.”, I instructed while pointing the gun at the disarmed terrorists.

He brought out five parachutes.

“They were only five there.”, he informed me. Great, they couldn’t come after us.

My team members wore their parachutes while I kept my gun pointed at the terrorists.

“Go. Now.”, I instructed and one by one they jumped out of the plane till only Ajay and I were left.

I wore my parachute and Ajay and I together back-walked to the edge of the plane, keeping our guns pointed at them. Just as we were about to jump out, the pilot who had retrieved a gun from somewhere hit me with a bullet in the head. Ajay pushed both of us out of the plane and pulled the strap of my parachute, thus opening it, before we were separated.

I met my team of twenty agents on a decided place. We planned a strategy for the next morning.

“Well, they ambushed us the last time. It’s our turn now.”, I said as we stood out of the base camp, disguised in native clothes with our weapons carefully hidden in our clothes.

We went in, silently taking down one terrorist after the other until an outcry arose that there were soldiers in the camp. Then we went on full rage, knocking them unconscious, handcuffing them and escorting them to our camp where security forces imprisoned them.

I returned to my family – my mom, dad and two younger sisters.

“The general called a few days ago informing us you were safe. Your remaining team members had landed in the Indian Ocean and it took quite a few days before they were traced. You were the only one who made it to an island. Your mother is going to give you a good scolding for getting hit by a bullet on your head though.”, my father joked. My father was an ex-military man and had seen the worst of injuries. He was crucial in calming my mom when I returned home with an injury.

“Tell me about it. I got scolded for almost drowning. Zeena went mad-“

My father skidded to a halt in the middle of the street.

“Finally. So Zeena?”, my father asked.

“Dad, move the car. We’re in the middle of a street here.”, I exclaimed.

My dad gave me his ‘we’re doing it my way, son’ look so I gave up.

“Yes, dad, Zeena. I think I’ve fallen in love.”, I confessed.

That was all the encouragement my father needed to get going which was luckily a moment before an angry driver had come to shout at us.