I could hear the whistle of a train in the distance.It chugged along nosily in this otherwise quite and dark night. I visualised what was going on inside the train . I wondered if there were some kids pestering their parents, some old men snoring away regardless of the hullabaloo around them . I loved analysing masses. It was one of my hobbies. Whenever I had the time I would sit in my foldable chair in my balcony and look out at the bazaar just outside my house.As I sipped my green tea, i observed the many hawkers who tried to sell their goods at a profitable price however this was made into an impossible feat by the women with large bindis, tied saris and a mission to buy everything but pay next to nothing for it. They haggled untiringly till the vendor ,driven crazy by her unceasing demands has to agree and sell at a low price. The woman then swings around with a triumphant smile and hunts for her next victim. I watched all this as an outsider in the comfort of my balcony and hot tea. I didn't like getting involved in everyday activity. I always liked observing quietly in my little corner completely unnoticed. And if I may say so myself, I was very good at doing just that. Maybe thats the reason why I took up this job. I was brought back to the present when a sharp pain tormented my right leg. It was bruised. I had banged it against a rock.
My torch shone on the ground and insects scurried away, angry at me for disturbing their sleep. Some fireflies were the only other source of light . They buzzed around me forming a trail of blazing fire. Such sights were the only sources of joy in my last few moments and they still remain vivid in my head. I trekked across the wet fields brushing aside the crops as I walked straight ahead. To an onlooker I may have looked like a lunatic, a woman who rampaged across fields with a shiny torch as her only weapon. That thought made me smile just a little and my lip tilted slightly to the right.
Everyone said my smile wasn't quite right, my face was far from symmetrical and my lips were disproportionate. I was never quite the beautiful fair maiden. Though my mom was. She had been very pretty in my age with thick dark hair and a smile that melted hearts. My sister was no less, even though she is quite young she has a charm about her that few can resist. I had always been jealous of her growing up. She was the perfect daughter to my perfect parents and I was the anomaly. There could never be a competition between us as no matter how much I tried she always won. Now that I reflect on it i realise that instead of being jealous maybe I should have told her how glad I was to have a wonderful sister like her. I should have told my parents how honoured I was to call them my parents. But I didn't for I was young and impressionable. I gained my bit of attention by being a rebel. I went out of my way to make their lives uncomfortable. I used to walk out of the house in the dead of the night without an explanation, I would storm into my room and get angry because of small things. They would worry endlessly about me and try everything to make me happy but I was insatiable. I wanted to be the centre of attention and this was the only way I could have them think about me and only me. Today too I left without a word but this time it wasn't because I wanted their attention.
I had been unemployed for four years before I got this job. I had graduated with a degree in english but no one was willing to offer me a suitable position. I was frustrated and depressed. Finally a mysterious offer turned up by mail. It said that they were looking for an investigative journalist. I was curious and soon applied for the job. I was accepted almost immediately and the pay was huge. However I soon found out that they wanted me to be a spy.
When I had accepted the job I knew there were several risks associated with it but at least I wouldn't have to sit at home anymore and be that daughter who had failed her family. I had signed the agreement with the agency on the condition that they couldn't guarantee that i would live if I did this job yet I never imagined, not even once that I would have to see this day. They told me all I would have to do was observe, note where they took the girls and where their safe houses were and who ran the operation. It was simple and straightforward or so I thought until I found out the agency's real motives.I had always been suspicious as to why they had hired me ,an untrained woman to be a spy. However I did a good job and managed to retrieve a lot of information about the gang that operated in the East. I always felt something was amiss about the agency. They seemed to disregard my information as if everything I did was a joke. I was frustrated but didn't complain because I was paid well.
One day I followed Hitesh Hirani to the bank where he had come to deposit his money. He was the one who ran the whole operation. He oversaw where the girls went and at what price each of them were bought. I was ecstatic at being able to trail him as I knew he would be able to lead me to the mastermind of the operation. If I uncovered the mastermind I was sure the intelligence bureau would be able to nab these crooks. I had tapped into his phone earlier with this device I had bought in a run down electronics store. He spoke in a hushed and urgent voice on the phone. He spoke little and seemed to fidget uncomfortably as if the person he was talking to made him feel uneasy. I switched on my head phone to find out whom he was communicating with. The voice I heard startled me. For days I wondered if I was right but when I added everything up it all made sense.The head of the agency was also the mastermind of this human trafficking agency. They had hired me to keep up the pretence of being an intelligence agency while in fact being a front for illegal operations. This was why the information I provided was never acted upon. When I was sure I was right I called the police and explained everything to them. The policeman I spoke to over the phone seemed tensed after hearing my story and told me to lay low and forget about everything completely. i couldn't understand why. I knew I was on the good side and those who do good always win in the end right? So I went to bed with a determined mind to help all those girls escape
A sharp ring of my phone woke me up. I looked at the clock to see it strike midnight. The number was unknown but i picked up. A gruff voice responded to my hello. "We have planted a bomb in your house, you went against us and you must face the consequences. You can either come out and meet us on the tracks or choose to be a coward and stay inside but by doing so you will not only kill yourself but also your precious family." That thought sent a shiver down my spine.The mans tone was cold and unfeeling. He didn't say these words with contempt but every word he uttered left a wound on my soul. I knew this man wasn't lying, this was no prank call. This was real. A choice; my family or my fear. I didn't hesitate a moment before answering. "Don't touch my family I am coming out."I heard the man cut the phone on the other end. I sat for a few seconds in the silence and darkness of my room. I groped around in the darkness. Feeling, sensing, for the last time. I then picked up my torch and set out. I opened the front door quietly so that nobody heard me. Before i left I walked into my parents room . A tear rolled down as I whispered goodbye. I then quietly sneaked up to my sister and planted a kiss on her cheek. She twitched but didn't wake up. As soon as I was outside I wiped my tears. These men must not see me weak.
My parents were unaware of the job I was doing and so they will never know the cause of my death. Maybe I should have left a note but now its too late. I can see the tracks. Three men stand near it. One of them holds a pistol while the other two carry long knives. They sit whistling and playing cards under the light of a candle. The irony of the situation puzzled me. No normal person would look so relaxed before they killed somebody ,yet here they were playing cards and whistling as it its the natural thing to do. These men aren't one of the masses. They are the ones who lurk in the corners. They are the rats of the human population. They are assassins. They kill and get paid, they have no emotions . What gives them the power to decide who lives and who dies? They are machines not men. They repel me. They look up as I approach. Finally their wait is over, they will soon be rewarded heftily for my dead body. They check me for any weapons first, finding none they make me kneel down on the tracks. The gravel graze my knees and the position causes my right leg to writhe in unbearable pain. The bruise is now bleeding. My faithful fireflies still buzz around me. Their sound gives me hope, it gives me strength. I sit there and watch as the gunman prepares his gun. I ask "What about my family are they safe now?" "Yes , we keep our word. Now shut up and stay down"said the gunman. One of the other men sneered at me.
I didn't have a choice but to trust my murder. As he lowered his killing machine to my head i saw nothing for my mind had travelled into a time years ago when I had learnt to cycle for the first time. My dad had taught me how to and even though I was terrified I knew he would always be there to catch me if I fell. I also remember the times when I had come home with trophies and how my parents had pampered me. Even though in my joy I had tripped and broken my mother's favourite vase she didn't yell at me. I still remember vividly how the blue and green african glass vase had tumbled, head first onto the white marble tile and shattered into many tiny pieces. The colour among the white had fascinated me. I thought I heard the sound of the vase shattering again, an echo of my past but that was the bullet. I took one deep breath before I fell. I didn't shed a tear in front of them. Nor did I cry out in pain. I looked my murder straight in the eye.This was my one little victory. Insignificant but still a triumph. I stayed strong till I was lifeless.