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Both Ends of a Knife - 9

                         He finished his beer and I had also done with my mountain dew and just then I was wondering why he brought me in the middle of the class and telling me all this past history. I decided may be they were work friends and he wanted to help me out financially. The whole idea of being pitied by and being helped by my lover’s dad was little awkward for me. I thought of standing up and leaving when he saw me once again. But this time i saw a completely different face of him. His eyes were wet. I repeat. HIS EYES WERE WET. I never thought he had room for emotions let alone crying in his life. But today, for the first time in my life, i pitied him. Crying didn’t suit him. I just saw him. I wanted to tell him not to cry and above all ask him the reason why his eyes were wet. It didn’t occur to me that time that too much of beer could also wet one’s eyes (that i learn't a little later). He looked at me and said i wish i could have saved your dad from them...What do you think was my reaction? Blank. Just Blank. My dad had died of a heart attack and i was educated enough to read medical reports. Somehow gauging my reactions, he spoke, ”Its true that your dad died of an heart attack and that it was his second attack. I too believed in it genuinely until yesterday and thats the reason why i did not met you or divulge about your dads past. But over the past few weeks we have been like crazy for myself and for the nation and the most startling part of our findings was that your dad was killed. Brutally, disgustingly, painfully and the worst part was that he accepted it all with grace just to provide us a little more information that could have changed the course of the Nation but for him.” There was a pause. I was not in my own world. I wished all this be just another dream in my class. I thought i had enough in my life and now this news comes to me. I took a beer from the case and gulped it till my throat began burning and my eyes became wet. I shouted like i had never shouted in my life and i still don’t remember all those words that i spitted out at that moment.  I never cried the day when either of my parents died. But today i cried. I hugged her dad and cried a lot. It was almost an hour before i could compose myself.
                      Her dad then sat near me and put his hand around my shoulder and told these words that could go on to change the course of my life,”Your dad was a martyr. He was a real hero who was not only denied his recognition but also accused among our ranks. I want you to clean up the mess people have thrown around him and make sure your dad name adds on to the list of greats who have served this nation. He certainly deserves one.”  You can say in a way that my whole life was being shaped by their family. First niki and now her dad. The only thing i asked was, “Can i tear those guys by pieces if i get to meet them?” , he replied ,”I would stay at peace if you can also rip their souls apart.” Thats how “Agent Nik , Special task force, Operation Shimoga”  was born...



                        It was Niki’s dad decision to name me Nik. Obviously he liked the name a lot for him to name his daughter and his son in law with the same name, almost same name. I was not into this for name or fame or just bcoz niki’s dad told me too. I always respected my dad and thought he was the most respectful man in this whole universe and when i got to know that he was the one was termed off late as a traitor i couldn’t digest. I know i had shyam to take care of. But with ajay and niki around i thought shyam was safe than with someone like me. As for Niki, she was more shocked than me to hear my dads story and she was in fact more adamant that i should join the forces pretty soon and make sure their souls does not rest in peace.

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கிறுக்கனின் கிறுக்கல்கள் - அழுகையின் சிறப்பு

அழுகை என்பதை வெறுத்தவன் நான்... என்னை ஒரு நாள் பிரிந்திருக்க முடியாமல் , கைப்பேசியில் நீ சிந்திய உன் கண்ணீர் ஓசை என் காதில் கேட்கும் வரை...

பின்குறிப்பு: கிறுக்கனின் கிறுக்கல்கள் எங்கிருந்தோ தழுவப்பட்டது போல் தோன்றினால் கிறுக்கன் ( நான் உண்மையை ஏற்றுக்கொள்பவன்..:) ) பொறுப்பல்ல. கிறுக்கனின் கிறுக்கல்களில் வரும் கிறுக்கல்கள் யாவும் என் சிறய மூளையில் உதித்ததே ஆகும்.  Inspirations could have been drawn from somewhere else, but its the execution that counts....Isn't it ?