One more time : Where Oblivion meets Obsession

#4 – THE SAD MEMORIES

—Svalbard Islands—

“Reliving old moments huh?” came Shermon's rough voice. Myra was so lost in it she didn’t realize when he came and stood beside her.

Myra shook her head in deep thinking and turned around to rest her back against the glass railing, “I sometimes wonder Sherry… What kind of creatures are we humans? We cut trees, process them, make paper and on that paper write ‘save trees’. Likewise, all the religions repel and despise war as a brutal act of cruelty. We treasure the teachings of these religions so badly that we sometimes wage a war to protect it and impose it on other people. Is this sane?”

He chuckled. “You say this because you have heard Professor Sharon. If not for her and UDF, even we would have been a part of that blind, deaf and dumb herd who either kills or stays passive and never understands that Peace is not just a word, it’s an Emotion, a state of mind, a need of today’s world.”

A young female cadet walked to them and saluted, “M-12 team Alpha? Sir awaits your presence in conference room 154.”

“Have the rest of my team arrived?” Shermon asked.

“Yes Sir.” And she left.

“Great. I expected more conference rooms to be empty. But it seems like a lot is going on around the globe. 154 conference rooms booked? 154 ongoing missions?” Myra said in a daze walking with him.

“Yeah. Let’s collect ours. You should be thankful. Our zone consists of this China to Iran Asian region. I wonder how challenging it would be for cadets to deal in countries that are constantly at war all the time.”

“Yeah. The leaders wage ‘wars’ to keep ‘peace’ in the country. That’s like ‘shouting’ at people to keep ‘silence’ in the room.”

—Conference room—

As they walked inside, the lights had already dimmed for the projector to start. Distracted by the door opening sound, all five heads of their team turned to them delighted. The senior least cared.

It was like always, Yousuf darn seriously listening, Ronn and Yuka talking among themselves, Bryan trying to hit on Rose and Rose with a chewing gum in her mouth. She never enjoyed meetings.

“Thank you for finally joining us Team leader.” The senior said sarcastically to Shermon. “Now when your Alpha and Beta are here, let’s commence.” He displayed a photo of an elderly looking man with grey hair, receding hairline and thin white moustache. “Heard about Dr. Malcolm Goldhill?”

“Yeah the Singaporean Scientist, who passed away a week ago. Rest in peace.” Bryan said sympathetically.

“Well since the last three days, he has been in a phone conversation with this man.” He said, displaying a photo of a dusky, young, muscular man in his early thirties.

“Could be someone else.” Yousuf disagreed.

“Perfect voice match. Same location. It was him. They were talking about something which they very cautiously referred to as ‘Parcel’ so couldn’t get much about that but you see, this man he has been talking to is a big Asian Don, Shahmeer Zamán Khan.” He said zooming in the picture. It was a tall, intimidating, dusky handome-looking man stepping out of the car straightening his glasses.

“Parcel?” Myra spoke taking in all the possibilities.

“Yes, according to the voice calls, he was ‘negotiating’ a price for it, selling it. And for that, he has to travel to India.”

“What if those conversations are a trap? Or some diversion? A counterintelligence to combat us?” Shermon asked.

“Well that’s your problem. Deal with it. I’m here to allot you a mission and handover all the information I received from above. You are hereby assigned a mission of getting all the information regarding the codename ‘Parcel’, scientist Goldhill, this trade, their intentions and stop them from their malicious motives. Good luck with that. Dismissed.” He said handing over the folder and a pendrive to Shermon and left.

“Let’s just kill them both. End of story. Mission accomplished.” Rose said casually. She always liked easy way. More than that, she liked using her talents.

“Yeah and when questioned for reckless activities, what are you going to say? Oh sorry sir, the old man had a heart attack because I winked at him.” Bryan asked dramatically.

“Fellas, no unrestrained activities until extremely necessary.” Shermon said in a strict tone. “Okay so…” he continued opening the file and placing a map before them. “What would be the perfect route? Air? Water?”

“Well let’s go with… water. Because we don’t know how big the ‘parcel’–thing is. What if it’s too huge to be carried by a plane?” Rose guessed.

“What if it’s small like an SD Card or a Pen Drive?” Yousuf spoke intently.

“Okay then let’s continue to listen and decode their conversations. Something will give this out. Their talks, their location, anything? Bryan?”

“Okay. I’ll keep tracking if he is moving towards the harbour, or the airport, or a private jet. Okay second step. Getting him?” Bryan asked.

“That will be determined when his travel route is confirmed. Now we're all heading to India. Be there fast. Meet you all a day later at our place in Shimla. Dismissed.” Shermon said closing the file and walked out.

—Shimla—

Myra arrived at a beautiful heritage-like mansion in Shimla and walked inside. “Oh my god!” A softly silvery, high pitched voice greeted her, dragging herself towards Myra because of her prosthetic leg. “Nisha?”

Myra covered the distance and embraced her tightly. “It’s been so many months. How are you doing? Oh, wait what do you people say, Namaste?”

“Good. I like that” Nisha said excitedly flipping her falling dupatta back on her shoulders. “I’m fine. Just happy at my new desk job and taking care of you people.” She completed with a beautiful smile revealing pointed incisor teeth. She was a psychiatrist by profession, a typical Indian, traditional girl who loved herself, her profession, her attire as it was. She wore bright coloured salwar suits, braided her hair, adorned herself with bangles, earrings all the time and was proud of it. Why wouldn't she… Out of all of them, she was the only one posted in her Native country.

“Nisha?” Myra said, indicating her canine teeth with the tip of her forefinger.

“Oh come on! I love them. Can’t a person laugh heartily in their own home?” Nisha whined.

“Yeah they can but they kind of creep me out.”

Nisha, being a Psychiatrist by profession, dealt with all kinds of people, interacted with them, knew them personally and mark the ones that were eligible, brought the extraordinary ones in the light of UDF. Also when they needed to bring someone down and couldn't do it physically, Nisha was chosen to attack their mind.

She could use her abilities to manipulate, mentally cripple and destroy the prominent and prestigious people who couldn’t be harmed otherwise.

She restrained from travelling a lot because of her leg, and also as she owned a reputed health care centre in Shimla.

They both walked inside talking when Nisha called, “Zain! Look who’s here.”

“Aunt Myra?” A little six-year-old walked with baby steps and hugged Myra and she picked him up. “Hello little one, you are the most adorable thing Myra has seen in her life.” she said holding him.

“Where is papa and Mamma?” He asked straightaway.

“Papa is here Zain.” Yousuf kneeled at the door with open arms and Zain ran towards him.

“Mamma?” he asked, climbing in his father’s arms and looking here and there.

“Mamma was going to come but she had bought a cute puppy for you and lost it. She’ll be back as soon as she finds him.” Yousuf said, flinching a little. “Here.” He said handing a big chocolate to Zain and asking him to go inside.

“Isn’t he big enough to know his mamma is no more?” Myra said in a mild tone to Yousuf sympathetically.

“I don’t think so.” He answered but Myra narrowed her eyes and nodded to continue, He huffed dejectedly and said, “I can’t bring the courage to tell him.” He said stuffing a chewing gum in his mouth, his cigarette rehab. He has changed a lot as Zain started growing up. It’s true what elders say, ‘children are like wet cement, whatever falls on them makes an impression.’ Yousuf completely stopped cursing, smoking so that it didn’t have an impact on him while Shermon settled for… swear word rhymes.

“Well good luck with that. Because with passing time, it’ll keep becoming tougher and unforgivable. It’s already been a year and a half.” She told him. “Yousuf I wish me and her had switched positions that day. She would have lived.”

“And you would have died?” He stated.

“No I wouldn’t. I won’t ‘die’ Yousuf. This battle with God is going to go a long way.” She said bitterly and walked away.

***

The rustling of leaves and the howling of cold winds was the only sound to be heard in this eerie silence. The moon lit night, slight clouds was all the comfort a nyctophile Myra needed. A wave of shiver ran through her body as the winds washed her soul. Suddenly, she felt a soft blanket wrap around herself. “Sherry?” She whispered.

“What are you doing on the terrace all alone?” He asked.

“The wounds that never heal find comfort in loneliness, knowing no one will hurt you.” She said smiling sadly.

“I can relate. Want to go sightseeing tomorrow. We can have a couple of hours.” He asked, trying to lighten up her mood.

“Yes. I think we should. This is a beautiful place but we never get to stay, meet the people and know their culture. Whenever we arrive, we just stay in the mansion, eat delicious food and get back to work. My Hindi accent would improve a little more. Just like you.”

“What I speak is Urdu. There’s a difference.” Shermon said. He was Turkish by birth and then moved to Canada in his teenage. That's why he was good at Urdu, Turkish and English as well.

“Really? They sound very much… similar.”

“Yeah but Muslims here, they speak Urdu and the majority of the population is Hindu, they speak Hindi. Both are beautiful in their own way.”

“I wouldn’t know much, my mother was a Muslim and father was a Christian. So I know a lot about both the religions but have ‘Faith’ in none. ‘Faith’ is a different thing. I can’t give that to anyone that easily.” Myra said.

“I do. I believe everything happens for a reason. I trust God, his doings, even his timings.” Shermon said confidently staring at the beautiful star-lit sky.

“Good night Sherry.” She flatly ended the conversation not wanting to take the direction he was giving and walked towards the exit but stopped midway, "One more thing Sherry. Next time you go to a hooker, make sure you take a shower first thing after coming back. You reek of women's perfume." She said flatly before leaving. Not that his personal life was any of her business, but she didn't want anyone else embarrassing him with that.

"Oh crash!" He mumbled. "I'll do it after I come back." He said taking out a letter from his pocket. There was a postbox 40 steps away from home. He had to post it.

Shermon slided his fingers on the sentence that grew always wrote on the back of the envelope. 'I know this doesn't change anything, but I am sorry.'

***