White Noon

Would she lose her name? That was her greatest fear. She had chosen this name so carefully. It was not rare, but not that common either. One in 10000. The best odds. The naming ceremony had been one of those rare instances when her parents had been proud of her. No. If she knew Saark, her name is the one thing that would remain. He was the chameleon. Her career? Now that was another matter. She would probably never get an assignment again.

Saark came in like the wind. She could sense that he was there. There was a lot of stirring and Resse looked confused. Probably from the buzzing in his earpiece. He stepped out with a terse "Don't move." to her. Like she would, even if she could. Saark was here. The only thing now was to act according to his plan. Move as he did.

Saark flew into the interrogation sector. His face was a purple rage. With his alabaster skin and balding head, the effect was grotesque and striking. He gasped when he saw her. "Your Excellency!" She was shocked. Did he know? Saark mentally chuckled. He turned to Resse following in his wake, even more confused than before. "How dare you!! You shackle Yilmat the I? Hmph. How dare.." Masterful as always. The loss of words was sheer genius. She smiled to herself. He did not suspect. She knew the game now. "Rasool please. It is not his fault." "But your excellency!!" "He SHOULD know better." "I will have your lapels for this." "Unshackle his excellency this instant." Resse knew he should wait for orders. But this Rasool was here. He had come into the Patrol Unit. Well, they couldn't leave as they pleased. He can release the lad for now. Finally. She could stand up. She made sure Saark did not see her relief. But her buttocks did tremble. Saark missed nothing. "Your Haven, your excellency." He then handed her a Pesh-kabz dagger. Resse couldn't believe his eyes. A named dagger! With an Ivory hilt!  He had to get these people out before anyone saw them. He would never talk about this ever again.

As she saw him rub out the white out of his skin, and bring forward his hair to cover the razored bald patch, she could only marvel at his repertoire. A dagger! What an elegant, simple solution. No wonder he had lasted six whole years with the Carter Branch. Saark, was thinking along the same lines. Six years. No memory swipes, no blood. This time. Well a job well done for now. But the chameleon couldn't last much longer. He looked at his watch, it was about 12. He looked up and saw the white sun piercing the cloudless sky, like a dagger into the heart of the earth. High noon was approaching.

The many shades of Pink

"My name is Yahut Boaz Yilmat. How many ever times you ask, it's not gonna change." My southern drawl wouldn't hold out much longer. I had to stop talking soon. "I thought you checked with my embassy." He grimaced when I said embassy. I had to remember that. "Yeah, but I am not convinced." His scowl was beginning to get to me. "Look, I have co-operated with you. Why are you torturing me this way?" I hoped to gain some time, until He came. But I was under extreme discomfort. "Torture?? I have not laid a hand on you, lad!" His incredulity apart, I realized I could not continue in this vein. How was he to know, that the hard chair was torture to me? How was he to know, that my full name was Yahut Boaz Yilmat Ben Illahi the II? That was the one thing he mustn't know, or even guess. I cursed my debilitation. 17 years of training couldn't overcome a weak butt. That is what generations of sitting on cushioned chairs does to you. He would be laughing now, I should make sure He, Saark (whose real name probably wasn't that), never finds out.

I had to play this out right. "I have been sitting all day, Sir. My legs are going to sleep. Shackle me if you must. But at least let me stand." He scowled more. "You did give my embassy my full name did you not? Yahut Boaz Yilmat the I?" He grimaced again. "Aye, that is what your UC says, so that is what I gave them, lad. And call me Resse. This Sir business isn't getting you anywhere." He pronounced UC as a slow drawn out 'you see'. Definitely not a mainlander. Another piece of information that I filed away. Well father, you have what you've always wanted. They think I am a man. Well, if the Carter Branch couldn't find out, the Patrol Unit never would. And I was sure the Carter Branch didn't. I hoped Saark had got my message.

Saark, whose real name wasn't Saark, paced up an down the alley, slowly, methodically; As if sizing the alley with the length of his stride. It had taken years for him to recruit a Ben Illahi offspring. Be that as it may, a girl.  In actuality, that only made his coup that much greater. Now he had a Ben Illahi girl. A direct heir to the throne. He had found out the second time he had met her. He could identify a taped chest as well as a false bust. The skin tone tape was a nice touch. But they did strip search her, when she came in. She had to be careful. He had the eye, though. That was his greatest gift.... He paused in his pacing unconsciously. The sun was almost down. The sky turned from amaranth, slowly to puce; Going through all the shades of pink as his eyes followed the sun. "Stop, reminiscing!", He told himself. He no longer had her. The stupid Patrol Unit did.

Well, she was a clever one. He had to give her that. Making sure her UC said 'the I', that was a great move. But he had come to expect that.  Then again, she was not that clever if she got caught by the Patrol Unit. Argh! He had to get her out soon. He had to be careful. No memory swipes, no blood. This had to be old fashioned discombobulation.

A Crimson Dawn

Last night I had the unenviable task of preventing Mr. Klienveldt from leaving Boston. Mr. K had just lost his job as campaign manager for the candidate and in a huff was planning to go to Washington (D.C.). Somebody had let the ball drop. Things should never have reached this far. I should have never been called in. Of course, certain parties wanted to ease his passage to D.C.

Mr. K of course did not want to alarm his wife and so conveniently did not mention the loss of income to her. Well it wouldn't have mattered if Mrs. K had stayed in Wyoming as she originally planned to. But when Google flights suggests that you return a week earlier and save $300 (yes, you read that right) you do not just ignore it. So she came back. Just in time to conveniently run into Mr. K and Ben, their 1 year old son, at the waiting area.

Mr. K was reclining on the uncomfortable airport chair with his son slung over the arm of said chair, contemplating on his near future. This is when he heard the familiar sharp intake of breath which meant that, forget his near future, his immediate future was in imminent danger. He looked up startled, almost toppling his precious son. As I looked on from behind a useless newspaper, I congratulated myself on another job well done and rustled about, ready to up and leave. But my job is never that easy. It turned out I did not know Mr. K as well as I thought I did. He came clean about his job scenario and did not invent the convenient lie of having come there to receive his wife. Surprise! Now Mrs. K wanted to join him on his journey to D.C. What's more as they moved their discussion to the airport coffee house, lo and behold, a woman was loudly proclaiming her disinterest in traveling to D.C. in the very same flight as Mr. K. Mrs. K could not believe her good fortune and neither could I. As she fell into conversation with the non-traveling woman who wanted to surprise her sailor boyfriend by staying, I decided it was time I stepped in.

The exchange of pleasantries had happened and so had the ticket for money exchange. And to my dismay I recognized the sailor's good girlfriend for one of my former. This was not good news. I thought my chameleon days were over. They all ordered coffee and the girlfriend excused herself to presumably go to the restroom (probably to contact Control). I occupied the now vacant seat. Klienveldt was busy on the phone, so it was his missus who first noticed me. Naturally, she asked who the blonde gentleman might be. I replied that I was a former employee of her husband's and owed everything I was to him. She was so overcome by my sincerity that she responded with her first smile of the day. Her timing could not have been worse as Mr. K returned to profess no knowledge of knowing me. I laughed it off, holding her hand, spreading warmth through her, saying I was her kind hearted friend's sailor boyfriend and wanted to surprise her. Much relieved, the K family joined me in my laughter, Ben included (he probably knew better than his parents, my source of mirth). The coffees arrived and I took my former girlfriend's and excused myself, saying I will go find her. As I stood up, my Navy whites momentarily blinded them as the sun peeked out spreading crimson throughout the Boston sky.

I met my supposed girlfriend at the next table, and handed her, her coffee. The chameleon that I am she did not recognize me and accepted the coffee thinking that I was merely transferring it. I left them happy, my job once more done. The familiar scream, the instant panic followed by the crowding. Then I made the mistake of turning to look, to find Mrs. K's accusing eyes burning into mine. She shouted to alert the incoming security of my presence. I turned and ran in a most obvious fashion..

As I walked out of the airport in my tweed jacket, with the wind rustling through my dark receding hair, I silently appreciated my own foresight in paying the five Navy men to run through the airport corridor exactly at 6 am. I looked up to see the crimson dawn turning into day. Hopefully my days as the chameleon were at an end...

Ramblings under the influence (of tea)

I am at a coffee shop, working on many things. I am sitting across a guy who looks like Matt Damon from School Ties (sorta). I also saw a woman in the bus today who looked like Katie Holmes. I considered approaching her and telling her. My sense of propriety along with a lack of my usual boldness combined to prevent me from committing that particular gaffe. Now, sitting across Matt (for lack of a proper name) I realize how big of a gaffe it would have been. I am thankful somewhat that my ancestors have not passed me any 'famous person look alike' genes. It would be pretty irritating to live a life of assumed fame and constant misunderstanding. I recently heard a "This American Life" episode called Doppelgangers. This line of thinking has reminded me of that particular episode. You should definitely check it out. You would realize, I think, the analogy and come to a conclusion similar to mine.  So the next time you think of complementing somebody with 'Hey, you have Tom Cruise eyes.' or 'Hey, you look like a tall Drew Barrymore.' just don't, okay! Note that, I am not just asking you to refrain from using these particular statements, but comparisons to famous people in general. 

This brings me to a sort of related line of thought. We as a people hate being judged for our looks. People always tell me you should not judge a person by what's on the outside. Or the more popular - 'It's what's on the inside that matters." I guess they are talking about character, intellect, one's soul or something along that line. My confusion here is a fundamental one. Why is it wrong to appreciate somebody's beauty? Or give them jobs based on their appearance? Or build a relationship based on their looks? One of these is seemingly ok (at least appears to be). You can appreciate somebody's beauty. But, in practice it is not very ok. You can not walk up to someone and say "Hey, you look stunning." or "Hey, you look sexy." But it is perfectly acceptable to say, "Hey, what you said is pretty intelligent." To firmly elucidate my confusion: Intellect and creativity are as much based on good genes and are as random as large eyes, blonde hair or high cheek bones. Similar to intelligence, beauty also needs a lot of hard work to maintain and heighten. Somehow picking the best looking person is only acceptable if you are a model or an actress. People resent it when a better looking person is promoted to be the spokesperson of anything, or a news anchor, or the public face of an organization. Sometimes they are even promoted for jobs in which beauty seemingly does not have a role to play, such as a doctor. However research does suggest that we naturally trust people who are good looking. I am too lazy to provide you with a link to that research so please assume that I provided you with the pubmed link (Blame my genes). 

Dreaming of Yesterday - Part III Vinayak

Kumaran nervously fiddled with the ring on his finger until he reached that familiar ridge where copper gave way to gold. He loved that ring just as he loved Valli. When they were both children, Kumaran had playfully asked for her nose ring and she had pulled it out without thinking. There was blood everywhere. It was a day he would never forget and it was the last thing he had ever asked her. He had worn that nose ring on his finger from that day on, adding copper to the gold widening it year after year. Now there was more copper than gold to that ring, but it was a constant reminder of how precious his prin.. queen was.

How could she doubt him? Why did she doubt him? Was it a dream? He had so many questions and he had no clue where or how to start. He started pacing restlessly across the dark room that he knew so well, with Guru shadowing him with his watchful gaze. Suddenly he came to a halt. There was but one answer. There was but one person to whom he could turn for help. He had to call Vinayak. Vinayaka Vignahara, the remover of all obstacles: He would know what to do.

The relief was instantaneous. Just then, the morning sun broke through and lifted the darkness in the room. Kumaran actually managed a smile. Guru, seeing his smiling visage, hoped that Kumaran had a solution. Kumaran turned towards him and just said the name. Guru's furrowed brow uncreased and Kumaran could see that he agreed with him. Guru just stepped to the side, indicating that Kumaran should get moving. Kumaran strode with purpose towards the aviary, but he was not in search of any pigeon but the pigeon keeper's daughter, Urmi. As luck would have it, he did not have to go all the way to the aviary. He spied her lithe form chasing after a stray cat in the palace gardens. She caught up to the cat but let it run again, and again. She sensed Kumaran watching her and gave up on the farce to turn and face him. Kumaran had no sooner begun to call her name out, when she was next to him. Again, he only had to utter the name and she was off. Just as he turned back, he saw Guru coming towards him. This time they took to pacing together, like royal sentries, guarding the flower patch. Now they had to wait, hopefully not for long. Hopefully his brother would have an answer...