Write India (TOI) - Submitted on time, but not selected

I observed him carefully as he walked to the door. I knew that time was running out but suppressed the urge to check my watch. I took a deep breath and started counting in reverse under my breath. "Ten, nine, eight, seven…”

(The above line had to be present in the story & it had to be written in the first person)

The Detonator

I observed him carefully as he walked to the door. I knew that time was running out but suppressed the urge to check my watch. I took a deep breath and started counting in reverse under my breath. "Ten, nine, eight, seven…”

I knew the countdown was useless, but it kept my brain occupied. I could imagine my son who had just entered the door go up to the counter and then there could be innumerable amount of outcomes to his situation. I of all people, would have all of these predictions worked out. Yes, I was kind of aware of all the outcomes, but I knew better than to be overly confident My experiences had taught me never to underestimate the situational changes that can occur on the spur of the moment.

A smile came to my face, as I remembered the horse situation the other day. It had come out of nowhere. No one would expect a horse on a busy crowded street. I had crossed a jam packed street, winding my way between cars and reached the other side, and lo and behold a horse almost trampled me. I had smiled at the situation. Two years ago, I would’ve cursed my luck. Those were the days of hard work in dungarees on the rig, with its own greasy smell which mingled with my sweat. And how it had fallen apart. I could still feel the heartburn. I noticed myself checking my watch. It was an involuntary movement. I knew it was an involuntary movement, and I was taught in training the next step was in my control. I had around half an hour to go before my son completed his duty. And my next step was that I wanted to do a quick recollection and take a good look at where I was and what I may have done right or wrong to reach here. I was nodding to myself.

It was two years ago in the December 2014, and I was down on my regular mandatory 29 day holiday and how I was never called back to my assignment in Iran. The newspapers had blamed no one for the oil market crash. The US government had raised their hands and said, “We will intervene only if the US economy is affected.”

How could the US economy be affected, it was a parody of statements, which got me to collect all the information available online. I was hooked to the web, especially inclined towards ISIS and their fundamentals. It had been a correct decision with all the free time on my hands. My research showed that the privately owned oil companies in the US had come up with fracking, a viable technique to distill oil with a more eloquent technique.

“It looks like a sweat-shop of mini-drills fracturing the oil well, unlike our single drill”, someone had commented on a website with a picture of a fracking site.

Fracking had made the oil market crash. The price of a barrel was down to 50% of its original value. Countries whose GDP directly related to the oil industry were affected by mid 2015. Elsewhere, countries like China had started to hoard oil. The local media were more interested in the leftist government rather than pay heed to the global crisis. It had been six months of idleness at home and the country’s debt was graver than ever. There was an uproar on whether or not to exit the European Union and get the drachma back. I respected our past but I felt it was a step backward to resurrect an old currency. I still do, thank God we still are part of the EU. 

Those months had been terrible.  The party in charge had to set aside their ideologies and set a date for the referendum. The decision to vote to agree for the bailout fund had been easy for all of us. It had been the only viable solution, the banks had been non-operational for a more than a week then and everyone had been on pins. We were all in the same boat. The oil barrel prices dipped closer to 20% of its original value.

Then came the news about migrants who entered the country by boats. Syria was under attack by ISIS. It had been only a year ago when I was in charge of drilling operations in Nahr-al-khabur close to the Iraq border. I had helped in transference of my fellow colleagues to the site in Iran, but when it was my turn, my luck had ran out. I had then made a calculated decision, to post my resume online. And a moment of brilliance had made me open multiple profiles with my multiple skills showcased. It was a desperate move, but it paid off.

“You are selected for one job”, the e-mail had read

The job interview was in the business district, however the building mentioned in the address was a rundown place. Sea-gull nests were in the window sills. I remember how my mood had soured, but I was determined to be resilient. This was my plus point, a highlight. I nodded to myself.  

My mentor’s words during training were so true, “It’s all in the head”, he had said.

Which, had then made me reflect about the time when I had looked at the sea-gulls nests in the dilapidated building. How I had looked forward to a fat salary, and here I was in the stairway of an organization that couldn’t afford its own upkeep.

I had been taken into a bare room by the receptionist. An old box TV set was played some black and white footage. I had immediately noticed it was a colour TV and the film shown was a CCTV capture. A montage of CCTV angles of a restaurant at a junction was on the display, a man entered the restaurant and opened his jacket. Underneath the jacket was C4 strapped to his chest. He pulled on a cord and all the CCTV screens went blank. The clip played in a loop. My phone rang; it was the same number from which I had received the interview call.

“Hello”, I said

 

“Can you identify the type of explosives used in the video”, the muffled voice said

I was dumbfounded, yet impressed at the interview technique.

“Yes, it is C4”, I replied.

 “Would you be able to make one?” the voice said

“Yes”, the words had fallen out of my mouth. Thinking about it now, I was thankful that I had answered in the affirmative. Else I wouldn’t be waiting outside this store for my son to do his duty so that we could attain the fruits of our labour for this life and the next.

The job was explosives related, more so, to get them integrated with detonators. It was exactly what I had wished for, at that time. Training was more administration related. I was very good technically, hence was shown the way to go about it secretly. Morse codes, radio signals, etc. were brushed upon. I had to grow a beard; obviously, I was assigned to work out of Syria. 

I felt long beard, it had grown quite long now. My son would have punched in the numbers by now; it was the unassuming clerk’s duty to do the rest. My excitement grew, it was a different kind of excitement, not like the ones I had experienced in Syria.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven…”, I had to start counting under my breath to keep my excitement grounded. I let my mind drift back to Syria.

Europe had been filling with migrants who had run away from Syria. It was all a new scenario for everyone. People had left their ancestral homes to get away from the ever-conquering ISIS and be safe. My employers had shown me the entire operation. I had been called to the same rundown “company office” where I was shown a video in the same room. Until now I had met only one person face-to-face, the receptionist, I didn’t mind as long as I knew I was doing the correct thing.

The video had showed me the route I would take into Syria; I would be given a “cameraman” and we both would interview migrants on their exodus towards Europe and slowly but steadily reach our destination. It was a well laid plan, which showed me my employers were serious. I would meet various “dignitaries” along my way. Plus interactions with migrant refugees would give me additional interpersonal as well as logistical information about the ground reality in Syria. It was all very well organized. I very much had liked to keep the bag which I had been provided with. It had a mini-USB port which connected to my phone; and voila the bag – a laptop in disguise – got all the features of a smart phone, GPS, et al. My teenage son would have never believed me, even if I showed it to him. The best part was when the Prime Minister had called. I remember it as clear as day. I was four months into this job and I was about to crossover the Turkish border into Syria. The camera given back, dialects polished, the two of us stressed on learning the different detonators that we would use to get the job done. ISIS was using chemical weapons. Though they were non-nuclear, chemical bombs had their own destructiveness. The types of detonators were completely different. We would have to improvise the shaped-charges on the battlefield. 

“Hello, this is AlexisTsipras”, the screen on my laptop-bag flickered

“Hope you are ready and know the consequences of your actions”, he had continued

“Yes sir”, is all that I had said. I was pleased with the call. I wish I could’ve kept a recording of it.

The next six months was a blur. We hid in empty houses, avoided main roads, used back alleys and laid bombs around the pipelines in Nahr-al-khabur. My old site was on an earthquake fault-line which helped our cause. By December 2017, we had laid around 2000 bombs in Syria under cover of darkness. We were airlifted 24 hours before the big day. I got to see a part of the team that day; we were more than a score of us. Tomorrow would be the day when, ISIS would meet their maker. I laughed at a personal joke - I had gotten used to talking to myself- the end of the world, or judgment day, a ball of fire taking over the world, to end all life. Except in this case, it would be the life of all the people affiliated to ISIS.

The blast was humongous. Airstrikes aided the detonators in their work. The entire oil belt region was ablaze for weeks. The advantages to blowing up the entire ISIS occupied oil reservoirs outnumbered the disadvantages. A major decision taken by EU bosses to end tyranny. The blasts’ effects were felt up to Yemen, but the entire world had been preparing for this day. There would be no innocent lives lost. My journey had taken me from Greece, Turkey, Syria, Iraq, Iran, Pakistan and now I was in settled in India.

Today’s headlines in the Times of India read, “Petrol prices may go up by Rs 2 a litre”

            It was a concern, but we would have to live with it. The plan had gone well, indeed. I saw my son come out of the store. He was ecstatic. He came up to me, in the restaurant overlooking the store he had entered an hour or so earlier. 

“We won the state lottery dad. We won 1 billion rupees”, he said. His religiously placed skull-cap fell off in the excitement.

            “Wow”, I said.

            I had to show surprise. He didn’t have to know that I had been presented the winning numbers a month in advance. It was payment for a job well done in Syria. Yes he didn’t have to know, not yet at least.

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