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AMRITSAR, PUNJAB 1919. In the late afternoon of April 13, 1919, the Jallianwala Bagh was alive with the bustle of Baisakhi,  a festival that draws villagers from across Punjab. The Jallianwala Bagh was an open stretch of barren land, enclosed by the rear walls of nearby houses, forming an uneven quadrangle. Its main entrance was a narrow passage located on the northern side. Besides the main entrance, there were four or five other extremely narrow exits. Scattered trees stood on the southern and eastern edges, along with an old, crumbling samadhi or tomb with a dome in the south. On the eastern side, there was also a well and a stage. This well proved to be a gift of God later. Amandeep Singh (Jogi’s father),   an assistant in a rice mill, had come to the Bagh along with his wife Harleen Kaur. Lazmi’s father Naseer Ali and her mother Mehroz Bano also accompanied them. Lazmi and Jogi were a happy lot as the two families had ventured out together after a long time. Amandeep Singh described seeing a  very large crowd,  people playing cards, children playing in the grass, and no sign of violence or weapons. People had gathered to listen to political speeches and share grievances about the Rowlatt Act.  The crowd included Jats, Sikhs, and Muslims, who had come from far-off places like Peshawar and Rawalpindi, drawn by the Baisakhi fair. Amandeep Singh noted that the atmosphere was casual,  even festive, but tinged with political purpose.  Naseer Ali, (Lazmi’s father) saw the British troops marching in a column. They were followed by an armoured car and European  officers. Jogi’s mother, Harleen Kaur said, “I saw soldiers entering the garden through the main passage. As the people were getting up to run away, someone shouted to them not to do so. He said,                                        “The Government will never fire upon innocent men.”  This assurance led many to stay put and that was a fatal mistake.  Bhai Raju Dholakia ,   a garment merchant from Nayee Bazar, Amritsar, remembered hesitating for a moment before choosing to flee. The first signs of trouble came with shouts of  “ Agaye! Agaye! ”    (they have come!)  as soldiers entered the garden. Witnesses like  Wazir Ali,  a resident of Chitta Katra, Lahori Gate, Amritsar,  and  Mian Abdul Kherat,  a resident of Ghee  Mandi, Amritsar, described people running towards the exits, only to be blocked by soldiers. Mian Abdul Kherat tried to flee but was beaten with rifle butts and pushed back. Abdul turned back and ran to the next smaller exit. As soon as he exited the garden, the first shot was fired. Dr. Ramu Agoyee,  a dental surgeon from Amritsar, barely escaped and took shelter in a nearby stable. He witnessed the moments before the bullets began to fly inside the garden. He said,  “  When the people heard the sound of the bullets, some of them lay down where they were, and others tried to run away but were killed or wounded. The firing was too close and continuous to allow anyone to escape ………. and the soldiers continued firing  in the direction in which the crowd was running. There were short intervals in the firing when those who were lying on the ground tried to get on their feet but were at once fired upon. ”                There were no warnings given, as the ( in ) sane British military officer had later ……..                                                        mentioned in the court testimonies. The firing lasted around ten minutes, but it felt like an eternity.  Bhola Ram,  a 17-year-old student of Khalsa College, Amritsar, tried to escape after the first volley of fire. While he was jumping over the wall on the east, the firing began again, and he was shot on his right forearm.  Mian Tauseef,  a resident of Katra Bagh, Amritsar, described being shot in his thigh while trying to climb the garden walls. The soldiers targeted the exits, causing piles  of corpses near the gates. Tauseef climbed on top of a fat man who was unable to climb up the wall, he jumped over the wall and escaped, but those behind him were shot at the wall.   Lazmi (then a seven-year-old girl) and Jogi  were running like wild, sometimes hiding beneath a dead man, sometimes under a corpse not knowing what would come next. Shaukat Mian  was hit twice near the right eye and chest and later lost his right eye.  Seth Narender Gopal,  a resident of Gali Lala, Amritsar, tried to escape through a passage next to the well but found it blocked by about 150 corpses. He said,        “   I had to fall back. I then lay down on the ground but received a shot on my right ankle. ”   “Lie down flat,”  Jogi (a young Sikh, then, and all of ten years) shouted. When the firing ceased, men who were lying flat got up and began to run. Jogi also ran. But the shots began again. Then, for the second time, the shots ceased. Men began to run again, and Jogi ran and got to the other side of the platform and fell flat there. There was quite a heap of bodies, and Jogi   was protected from the bullets by them.  When the firing was over, he got up and saw bodies on all sides and went towards the back of the garden. The bodies were so thick in the passage that he could not find his way out.                          In the heap of bodies Jogi saw the dead bodies of his father and mother.                                He screamed in anguish. All of a sudden he was reminded of Lazmi.                                                                      Where is Lazmi ………………..?          He followed the screaming of young men and children. Running towards the well, he saw                                              Lazmi staring blankly towards a policeman,                                 “  Please spare my life, I beg of you ” , Lazmi was crying hysterically.                         Jogi hid himself under the dead bodies and what he saw was a miracle. The policeman, who was an Indian, slowly walked away shouting – “there is nobody here alive. All are dead.” Lazmi’s father died in the shootout.   Mehroz Bano recalled, “  I ran towards the well and tried to jump over the wall near the gate on the well side. My right arm was raised, and I got shot on the back of my right hand. ”                                                       Mehroz Bano had survived the onslaught. Once the shooting stopped, the scene was pure carnage. Jogi ran and picked up Lazmi  from the heap of deads. She was crying and could not be consoled, the dead body of her father was lying before her. Jogi took her in her arms and carried her towards Mehroz Bano. She nestled Lazmi in her arms and both screamed and wailed . PUNJAB. 1939   Twenty years on and Lazmi had grown into a beautiful young lady. She had a small house to live in Majora, with mother Mehroz Bano always by her side. Joginder Singh (Jogi) would visit Lazmi very frequently. They became very fond  of each other. Jallianwala Bagh brought them together, people close to their heart had left them, some had survived and it were them that all mattered!                                                             Jogi and Lazmi became inseparable.   Lazmi’s  brother Rehmat had fallen into bad company and only visited Majora  when he needed money. Mehroz Bano was concerned how Rehmat’s life would unfold and Lazmi in disgust, forgot Rehmat ever existed!  "Are you happy with me?" Jogi intercepted Lazmi when she was coming home after work at  the village school. “I will answer this tomorrow”, Lazmi smiled and ran towards her house. “I will come back again”, Jogi smiled . “Be sure with your answer”. She nodded, not hesitating, but a little impatient. She needed comfort and Jogi would give her. Lazmi got heartened everytime she took his hands. He had no ego, only love for her, his fingers had sores  and she knew working in the fields was very troublesome for Jogi. In the distance three girls were arguing with Jogi, “ it is a fine day and my sight is not too dim, I can see the building where Lazmi lives. What are you doing here(?)”. Jogi was playing with some young chums,                                 “Lazmi told me to wait here, so I am waiting here for her.” “I see, so where you two would go(?)” “Anywhere, I am not sure.” The girls giggled and ran away. When Lazmi emerged  from her small house, Jogi took her to the riverside. Resting on her lap Jogi was reminded of Lazmi as a little girl, running, crying, hugging Jogi in her moments of despair ! How time flies, and as they were here, he planned to spend the rest of his life with Lazmi.                                                                       And how love blossomed !   Joginder Singh had been gone from his home about an hour. They sauntered by the river bridge  and then they both went to the adjacent field to take some food. Lying on the field, Jogi stretched out his hands over his head and behind him, groping. Jogi caressed her cheeks, eyes and nose that his hands knew so well. He tried to play with her lips to induce them to kiss his fingers. Lazmi opened her mouth and bit him fiercely, Joginder jerked his hand away. With a quick movement he caught the girl’s head in both his hands and brought her face over to his. Then he slipped his arms under her waist and hoisted her into the air above him with her arms and legs kicking, then he brought her down flat upon him limb to limb. She slapped him on the face and angrily mouthed crashing words which Jogi enjoyed thoroughly. Jogi crossed his arms behind Lazmi’s  back and squeezed her till she could not talk or breathe. Every time she started to speak, he tightened his arms around her and her words got stuck in her throat. She gave up and put her exhausted face against his. He laid her beside him with her head nestling in the hollow of his left arm. With his right hand he stoked her hair and face. He kissed Lazmi passionately and started to reach between her legs. Slowly he untied her salwar threads and pulled her panties down. She moaned in pleasure as Jogi slowly put her mouth between her legs, it was hot and wet !! Jogi kept on kissing. and undressed her completely and marvelled at her nude body. Her buttocks were full and rounded and he squeezed tightly her brimming, enlarged breasts! He sucked her nipples till she cried hoarse. Joginder’s hands reached once again for her pretty bosoms. She caught it and put it back on her face. His breathing became slow and sensuous as he reached for her taut nipples. He stretched his left arm that lay under the girl’s head and caught her reproving hand. Her other arm was already under him. She was defenceless.   In a state of frenzy, she dug her nails into his thinly bearded cheeks. The stars above her went into a mad whirl. Sands gritting in her hair, the breeze trespassing on her wind spattered limbs, she pushed the moment away and started heading home. It was an evening of love and beautiful love making ! Jallianwala Bagh had changed Joginder Singh completely. It was Lazmi who pushed Jogi to get rid of his locks and tresses, the Sikhs had suffered the most and Lazmi had transformed Jogi into a man shorn of the pains of Jallianwala.   Jallianwala Bagh was a watershed moment in Indian colonial history. It ignited a fierce  desire in the minds of the Hindus and the Muslims to get rid of the British Rule. Many argue that the Indian retaliation to the Jallianwala massacre was the first determined attack on British administration in India – the Indian independence movement took a serious turn after April 13,1919.   General Dyer, who led the soldiers into the Bagh, was reprimanded for his actions and was asked to resign  from the army. He was, however, allowed to retain full pension benefits and other rights due to him. His demonstration was applauded by most of the British in India. In clubs all across the country, his admiring countrymen took up a collection on his behalf, amassing the then prodigious sum of 26,000 pounds to ease the rigors of his premature retirement. Does modern Britain loathe him? I wonder ! Though in 2019, The Archbishop of Canterbury had apologised “   in the name of Christ ”  for the 1919 massacre at Amritsar. Prostrating himself at the memorial to the Jallianwala Bagh killings, Justin Welby said: “  The souls of those who were killed or wounded, of the bereaved, cry out to us from these stones and warn us about power and the misuse of power…………. I cannot speak for the British government, but I can speak in the name of Christ and say this is a place of both sin and redemption, because you have remembered what they have done and their names will live, their memory will live before God.  And I am so ashamed  and sorry  for the impact of this crime committed here. ” This typical British distaste for all things Indian was nauseating, where an aura of inhumanity attracted cheers and applause. Many British families those days would come to India for a visit – they wanted to see and know how India looked like, how the Indians are different from theirs and how Britain poured enormous sums of profit to its coffers from this Jewel in their Crown. What a blasphemy !!                                                                          ROME. JANUARY 10, 1947.   In another part of the world, the brilliant Gabriela Ballatini, the maths genius from Oxford, went to Rome to see his father. She could not overcome the huge crush she got into over Rahul Singh, the ebullient officer of the Indian Army who was in Rome enjoying a holiday! Rahul was tall and handsome borne out of an Italian mother and an Indian father. He had killer looks and the girls were head over heels to get his attention! Gabriela never knew that Rahul was two timing her, Rahul was in love with Meryl Reetherspoone, the quiet but heady woman from London. When Meryl came to know that Rahul had slept with Gabriela she immediately went for the murderous kill.                                                       Meryl decided to eliminate Gabriela Ballatini.    And Meryl got a chance to meet Gabriela in the annual get together of Oxford graduates. She confronted Gabriela and after a heated altercation pushed her down the Oxford underbridge deep down the gorge and ran inside informing his associate, Shane, to handle the rest. Gabriela was grievously injured. Everyone thought she was dead.  Adriano Vilecchio,   the rich and influential father of Gabriela, wanted to know who killed her daughter and rightly put Meryl and Rahul under investigation . Adriano ruled the world and he put everything under his calling to punish Meryl and Rahul. (Detailed account is given in PART  I, II, III – HOW LOVE TRANSCENDS ALL BARRIERS FOR LAZMI SHAHEEN AND MERYL REETHERSPOONE).          In Rome Meryl and Rahul were facing conviction for the murder of Gabriela Ballatini !!   Five hours before the murder trial of Meryl Reetherspoone and Rahul Singh was to begin, Room 33 in the Italian Supreme Court of Cassation in Rome was overflowing with spectators.  The courthouse had an enormous grey building that took up an entire square block on University Street. Of the thirty courtrooms in the building, only three rooms were reserved for criminal trials: Rooms 21, 30 and 33. Number 33 had been chosen for this trial because it was the largest. The corridors outside Room 33 were jammed and police in uniforms were stationed at the two entrances to control the crowd. The sandwich stand in the corridor was sold out in the first five minutes, and there was a long line in front of the telephone booth.   In front of the dais was the witness stand, a small raised platform on which was fixed a reading lectern with a wooden tray to hold papers.  On the lectern in gold leaf was the crucifix, Jesus on the cross with two of his disciples by his side. Against the far wall was the jury box, filled now with its ten jurors. On the far left was the box where the accused sat. In front of the defendants' box was the lawyers' table. Meryl was not the only act in the legal circus. At the other end of the defendant's box sat Rahul Singh, filled with a smouldering anger, his handsome face was pale, and he had lost weight, but those things only served to accentuate his sculptured features, and many of the women in the courtroom had an urge to take him in their arms and console him.   The biggest star of the circus was Andrew Costa,   a man who was well known in legal halls of Italy . Andrew Costa was acknowledged to be one of the greatest criminal lawyers in the world. He had defended clients ranging from heads of government who had been found with their fingers in the public coffers, to murderers who had been caught red handed by the police, and he had never lost a major case.   Costa was well built, bearded and he sat in the courtroom watching the spectators with large, sad bloodhound eyes in a crumbling face. When it had been announced that Costa was going to defend Meryl Reetherspoone, the woman who had murdered Gabriela and held Vilecchio up to public sympathy, the news had created a furore.   As powerful as Costa was, Adriano Vilecchio was a hundred times more powerful and no one could imagine what had possessed Costa to go against Vilecchio.                                   It was amazing to see Andrew Costa all over the Court !!   "This woman on trial," Costa was saying to the jurors, “cannot be tried for murder. Because there has been no murder. If there had been a murder, I am sure that my brilliant colleague for the State, Ms. Gloria Bloom,  would have been good enough to have shown us the body of the victim. She has not done, so we must assume that there is no body, and therefore no murder."                                                              ON THE NIGHT OF DECEMBER 15, 1946. Before Meryl pushed Gabriela over under the Oxford underbridge Adriano’s grand-daughter Mellanie Stone (Mili) saw the fierce altercation Meryl had with Gabriela, she was terrified. She ran inside and called from her room. “Hello.” “Grandpa, it’s Mili.” “Yes darling, what happened(?).” “Grandpa, Gaby ma’am is seriously injured, Meryl has hit her and she has thrown the body into the underbridge water.” “Why …………… but who is Meryl(?).”                                                                                                                                  ROME. JANUARY 10, 1947.   The courtroom was packed. President of the Court, Judge Roberto Almici, was presiding. He asked prosecution lawyer Ms. Gloria Bloom to call the first witness.   “My Lord, the first witness I have called is none other than Mr. Adriano Vilecchio.” “Mr. Vilecchio, very good morning to you.” “Good morning.” “Mr. Vilecchio can you tell the court what happened on the night of December 15.” “Yes, I will. On 15 th  of December, 1946, I received a call from Ms. Melanie Stone saying that my daughter Gabriela was grievously injured.” “Who injured her(?)” “Meryl Reetherspoone. I have the recorded audio when she called me, I have deposited the tape to prosecution.”   Please run the tape, Judge Roberto Almici ordered. The tape was run……………………………………. Hello. Grandpa, it’s Mili. Yes darling, what happened. Grandpa, Gaby ma’am is seriously injured, Meryl has hit her and she has thrown the body into the underbridge water.                                                            Why …………… but who is Meryl(?). Everyone was stunned. (Detailed account is given in PART I, II, III – HOW LOVE TRANSCENDS ALL BARRIERS FOR LAZMI SHAHEEN AND MERYL REETHERSPOONE). The court knew who Meryl was. But who was Mili !! Andrew Costa rose from his chair and walked towards the witness box. “Good morning, Mr Vilecchio.” “Good morning, Mr. Costa.” “The court has heard the tapes, what I want to ask you is how did you know Melanie Stone(?)” What he described to the courtroom surprised the audience – Adriano Vilecchio had a son Antonio Vilecchio. He was younger to Gabriela. Finishing school he nurtured the desire to excel in studies. Antonio had a way in fashion, he understood fashion and wanted to work in fashion industry. He enrolled himself in University of Creative Arts in London. He was doing very well. Prikly Stone, over time, became very close to Antonio. Finishing studies Prikly wanted to settle down with Antonio. But everything came to an end in a flash. Antonio died from an overdose of drugs. Prikly left fashion industry and settled for a nine to five job in an insurance company. Melanie  was born and Prikly raised Melanie while Evonne  – her mother helped her with finances. When Evonne died Prikly was left alone – all by herself. The judges, the jurors, Costa and the packed crowd listened in rapt attention. The crowd felt a grave injustice had been done to the Vilecchio family. Quite often, filthy rich and enormously powerful men also succumb to queers of fate. “But, Mr. Vilecchio, can we know what happened to the body of Gabriela Ballatini(?)”,  Costa approached Adriano with a wry smile. “  I know as much as you know. I must ask the police what efforts they have made to find Gaby’s body; it has been more than twenty days and we are still searching! ”                                                                          JALLIANWALA BAGH   When Jallianwala Bagh happened, General Michael O’Dwyer was Punjab's Lieutenant Governor. As a result, his actions were considered among the most significant factors in the rise of the Indian Independence Movement.  O'Dwyer endorsed Reginald Dyer’s action at Jallianwala Bagh and made it clear that he considered Dyer's orders to shoot at the crowds was correct. He subsequently administered martial law in Punjab on 15 April and backdated it to 30 March 1919. In 1925, he published  India As I Knew It in which he wrote that his time as administrator, Punjab was preoccupied by the threat of terrorism and the spread of political agitation.                                                                       ROME.  JANUARY 15, 1947.   Seargent Fabioni, who was in charge of the investigation, informed that till the previous day no body had been found. The search was on and the Court would be informed accordingly. “Thank you, Mr. Adriano Vilecchio,”, the Judge informed, “please take your seat.” “Thank you.” “The Court is adjourned for today. The next hearing will be on Wednesday, 15 January.”  The President of the Court announced. Adriano Vilecchio gave a sharp look at his lawyer, Gloria Bloom, and left the courthouse.   At one end of the defendant's box sat Meryl, wonderfully beautiful, her honey skin a bit paler than usual, and dressed as though she had just stepped out of Madame Chanel's . There was a regal quality about Meryl, a noble presence that heightened the drama of what was happening to her. It whetted the excitement of the spectators and sharpened their blood lust.   “My Lord, I had stated earlier that our learned friend has not produced the body of Gabriela Ballatini, so we must assume that there is no body, and therefore no murder." " No, gentlemen, that is not what this trial is about, my client is being tried because she broke another law, an unwritten law that says you must not fornicate with another woman's fiancé. The press has already found her guilty of that charge, and the public has found her guilty, and now they are demanding that she be punished. " Costa stopped to pull out a large white handkerchief, stared at it a moment as if wondering how it had gotten there, blew his nose and replaced the handkerchief in his pocket, "   Very well. If she has broken a law, let us punish her. But not for murder, gentlemen. Not for a murder that was never committed. Meryl Reetherspoone was guilty of being the fiancée of Rahul Singh, but if you must know it, you cannot find this crime on the front page of any newspaper. Because it’s not a crime we most people know of. "                                                                                                                                Costa smiled triumphantly. Moments later, Gloria Bloom helped a witness for the prosecution to be sworn in. "Your name?" "Christian Petit." "What kind of cases do you handle(?)" "Many kinds, commercial pilfering, missing persons, surveillance for jealous husbands or wives.” "Monsieur Petit, would you be good enough to look around this courtroom an tell us whether anyone in this room has ever been a client of yours(?)" A long, slow look around the room. "Yes, madame." "Would you tell the Court who this person is, please(?)" "The lady sitting over there. Miss Meryl Reetherspoone." There was a murmur of interest from the spectators. "Are you telling us that Miss Meryl hired you to do some detective work for her(?)" "I am, senorita." "And would you tell us exactly what that work consisted of (?)” "Yes, madame. She was interested in a man called Mr. Rahul Singh. She wanted me to find out everything I could about him.” "That is the same Mr. Rahul Singh who is on trial in this courtroom (?)"  "Yes, madame." "And Miss Meryl paid you for this?" "Yes, madame." “What more you know about them(?)” “I want to tell that I have information from a renowned hospital in Rome that Miss Gabriela visited twice to meet a lady doctor in a hospital.” “Why(?)”   “Because Miss Gabriela was five weeks pregnant and wanted to marry Mr. Rahul Singh.” (Detailed account is given in PART I, II, III – HOW LOVE TRANSCENDS ALL BARRIERS FOR LAZMI SHAHEEN AND MERYL REETHERSPOONE). Costa turned to the judges.   "I move to strike the entire testimony of this witness, Your Honours, on the grounds that it is hearsay." Gloria Bloom leaped to her feet. "Objection, Your Honours!” “Meryl Reetherspoone hired Mr. Petit to get information on Rahul Singh. That is not hearsay – his well-travelled colleagues have submitted the records as evidences.”   Costa said gently. "l am perfectly willing to accept it - if he wishes to bring the men here who actually performed the surveillance of Mr. Rahul. Otherwise, I must request the Court to assume that there was no such surveillance and that the testimony of this witness be held inadmissible." The President of the Court turned to Gloria. “Are you prepared to bring your witnesses here?", he asked. "That's impossible," Gloria Bloom spluttered. “Costa knows that it would take weeks to locate them!" The President turned to Costa. "Motion granted."  In spine chilling turn of events the fates of Meryl and Rahul were ruthlessly manipulated on the premises of the Court with the President helpless in halting the arrest of a cruel and cunning game !!                                                                                    O’DWYER   On March 13,1940, in retaliation for the massacre, O'Dwyer was assassinated  at Caxton Hall, London by the Indian revolutionary and freedom fighter Udham Singh.  I would strongly advocate to read the book India As I Knew It : 1885-1925;   by Michael O’Dwyer where he has shamelessly argued that Reginald Dyer was right when he opened fire on the hapless citizens of Amritsar at Jallianwala Bagh. It was the good office of Sankaran Nair   – a member of the executive council of the Viceroy and the Governor General of India, in the King’s Bench Division of the High Court of Justice  – who revolted against the Crown and the grotesque shamelessness  of the Judge and the Court describing the act of General O’Dwyer as just and legal. Sankaran Nair   fought tooth and nail and proved to the Court that Dyer had shot thousands of people because he had a deep - rooted loathing for Indians and despised Indian people,   ………   many do not know that Dyer in his school was laughed at by his Indian classmates; Dyer had a stammering problem from childhood and he was bullied to the point he felt utterly humiliated.   That abhorrence filled in him against Indians triggered a catastrophic tragedy – one that changed the landscape of Indian Freedom Movement !!   The long legal battle declared General Dyer guilty and by the time the verdict came he was a broken man in his death bed. He suffered tremendously with the guilt of being foul mouthed by his own people, the British PM refused to accept what General O’Dwyer had pleaded in his book and in his subsequent arguments for the brutal firing. General Dyer died on July 23, 1927. EPILOGUE   Rome, 1947.  The doctor who treated Gabriela after her injury testified that Gabriela was certain when she told her that Meryl Reetherspoone tried to murder her. It was all over for Andrew Costa         but the brilliant lawyer that he was, he addressed Meryl and Rahul in confidence :   “President of the Court has given me permission to speak with you in his chambers." He turned to Anthony Fritz, who was sitting in an agony of uncertainty, not knowing what was going on. “You and your client have permission to join us if you wish."   "What I am about to say", he said quietly, "is for the benefit of my client. However, because they are co-defendants, I have been able to arrange for your client to be accorded the same privilege as mine."                                                             "Tell me!". Meryl was perturbed.   Costa turned to her. He spoke slowly choosing his words with great care. “I have just had a conference with the judges," he said. "They were impressed with the case the prosecution has made against you.” “How ever”, he paused, delicately, "I was able to persuade them that the interests of justice would not be served by punishing you."     There was a note of deep satisfaction in Costa's voice as he continued,   "If the defendants are willing to change their pleas to guilty, the judges have agreed to give each of them five-year sentence." He smiled and added, "Four years of which will be suspended. In reality they will not have to serve more than six months."   He turned to Rahul. "Because you are an Indian, Mr. Rahul, you will be deported. You will never be permitted to return to Italy."   Rahul nodded, his body flooding with relief.   Costa turned back to Meryl. "This was not an easy thing to accomplish. I must tell you in honesty that the primary reason for the leniency of the Court is the interest of Miss Gabriela’s father. Mr. Adriano Vilecchio has requested to come to a conclusion quickly, he has suffered a lot for her daughter, prosecution has not found the whereabouts of Gabriela and the court has devoted 24 sessions, almost six months on this case. It is a tired jury, the judges believe, and the president of the court doesn’t want to engage them further. They feel Mr. Vilecchio has already suffered unduly because of all this publicity , and they are anxious to see it ended."                                                                       "I understand” , Meryl said.   Fifteen minutes later the two defendants stood before the judges' bench. The President of the Court was seated in the centre, flanked by the justices. Andrew Costa stood next to Meryl Reetherspoone and Anthony Fritz stood at the side of Rahul Singh. The courtroom was charged with an electric tension, for word had flashed about the room that a dramatic development was about to take place. But, when it came, it caught everyone completely off guard. In a formal, pedantic voice, Andrew Costa said, " Mr. President, Your Honours, my client wishes to change her plea from not guilty to guilty. " The President of the Court leaned back in his chair and stared at Costa.   The President consulted with the other justices in a flurry of whispers. They nodded and the President looked down at Meryl and said, "Do you wish to change your plea to guilty?"   Meryl nodded and said firmly, "I do."   Anthony Fritz spoke up quickly, as though afraid of being left out of the procedure. "Your Honours, my client wishes to change his plea from not guilty to guilty."   The President turned towards Rahul. "Do you wish to change your plea to guilty(?)   Rahul glanced at Costa and then nodded, "Yes."   The President studied the two prisoners, his face grave. " Have your attorneys advised you that under Italian law the penalty for the crime of premeditated murder is execution? "   "Yes, Your Honour", Meryl’s voice was strong and clear.   The President turned to look at Rahul.   "'Yes, sir", he said.   There was another whispered consultation among the judges. The President of the Court turned to Gloria Bloom , "Does the Prosecutor of the State have any objection to the change of pleas from not guilty to guilty(?).”   Gloria looked at Costa for a long moment, then said, "None."   “Very well", the President said. "This Court has no choice but to accept the change of plea."   (Detailed account is given in PART I, II, III – HOW LOVE TRANSCENDS ALL BARRIERS FOR LAZMI SHAHEEN AND MERYL REETHERSPOONE).   He turned to the jury "Gentlemen, in view of this new development, you are here with released from your duties as jurymen. In effect, the trial has come to an end. The Court will pass sentence. Thank you for your services and for your cooperation. The Court will recess for   two hours."     Two hours later the courtroom was packed to overflowing as the Court was reconvened.   Meryl glanced around, at the faces of the spectators - they were watching her with expressions of eager expectation,  and it was all Meryl could do to keep from laughing aloud at their naiveté. These were the common people, the masses, and they really believed that justice was meted out fairly,  that under a democracy all men were created equal, that a poor man had the same rights and privileges as a rich man.   "Will the defendants now rise and approach the bench”,   the President ordered.     Gracefully Meryl rose, to her feet and moved toward the bench, Costa at her side. From the corner of her eye, she saw Rahul and Fritz stepping forward.   The President of the Court spoke, “ This has been a long and difficult trial”, for capital cases where there is a reasonable doubt of guilt, the Court is always inclined to let the accused have the benefit of doubt. I must admit that in this case we felt that there existed such a doubt. The fact that the State was unable to produce a   corpus delicti   was a very strong point in favour of the defendants. "     The feeling was in the pit of Meryl’s stomach now,   moving upward, beginning to constrict her throat, she was suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. Rahul was gazing blindly at the Judge, not fully comprehending yet what was happening.   " We appreciate the agonizing soul-searching that must have taken place before the defendants decided to confess guilt before this Court and before the world. However, the easing of their consciences cannot be accepted as atonement for the terrible crime they have admitted committing, the   cold-blooded murder of a helpless, defenceless woman. " It was at that moment that Meryl knew, with a sudden, mind-smashing certainty that she had been tricked. Costa had set up a charade of false security so that he could do this to her.   This was his game;   this was the trap he had baited. Vilecchio  had wanted his vengeance now, not later.   The President was speaking,   “ And so under the powers invested in me by the State, and in accordance with its laws, I pronounce that the sentence on the two defendants, Meryl Reetherspoone and Rahul Singh shall be execution by a firing squad.  The sentence to be carried out within ninety days from this date. "                                                                 The Court was in pandemonium.   Something had made Meryl turn around. The vacant seat which was earlier empty, Adriano Vilecchio sat in it. He was dressed in a blue raw-silk suit, flawlessly tailored, a light blue shirt, and a foulard tie. His eyes were bright and alive. Vilecchio had come to watch Meryl in the moment of her defeat, savouring the terror in her. His black eyes were locked on hers and for a split instant she saw in them a deep, malevolent satisfaction. And there was something else. Regret, perhaps, but it was gone before she could capture it.   This was her farewell appearance, this dirty, dreary Rome her final jaunt. She looked around the packed courtroom the last time. She saw Shane Gough staring at her in stunned silence, shaken for once out of his structured world.     The matron was tugging at her arm now, “Come along, Miss Meryl.”   By Italian law, executions took place at Basse di Stura riverside, off Turin, a special government boat transported condemned prisoners to the riverside. A series of small grey cliffs led to the river itself and high on a hill was a lighthouse built on an outcropping of rock.   It was 4.00 am on a Saturday morning. Meryl’s execution was scheduled to take place at 6.00 am.   They had brought Meryl her favourite dress to wear, a wine red, brushed-wool Dior, and matching suede shoes. She had all new silk handstitched lingerie and a white jabot of Venetian lace for her throat. On instructions from Adriano Vilecchio, Meryl had been given her favourite hairdresser to do her hair. It was as though Meryl was preparing to go to a party.   Intellectually, Meryl knew that there would be no lastminute reprieve, that in a little while her body was going to be brutally violated and her blood spilled upon the ground . And yet emotionally she could not keep from hoping that somehow, someone would make a miracle and spare her life. It would not even have to be a miracle - it only needed God, a wave of his golden hand. If he spared her now, she would make it up for her wrongdoings. She would do anything, if she could only see the Almighty, she would tell him she would never do harm to another woman or to another man, that she would devote herself to making everyone happy !!                                              Rahul would be executed at 7.30 am the same day.   Adriano Vilecchio summoned Costa the next day to his office. He was congratulated by Adriano for the case had gone his way and Costa had done a wonderful job. He gave him the keys to his new car, Rolls Royce Phantom III Labourdette and the new office he would be owning.   Adriano had purchased a lavish bungalow in Los Angeles and would be gifted to Andrew Costa in due time. EARLIER ON THE NIGHT OF DECEMBER 15, 1946. When Mellanie Stone saw the fierce altercation Meryl had with Gabriela, she was terrified. She ran inside and called from her room. “Hello.” “Grandpa, it’s Mili.” “Yes darling, what happened(?).” “Grandpa, Gaby ma’am is seriously injured, Meryl has hit her and she has thrown the body into the underbridge water.” “Why …………… but who is Meryl(?).” Mili spoke to Adriano Velacchio at length and told him everything. He told Mili to inform Carl immediately, he is in Oxford. Mili spoke to Carl and both ran to the spot where Meryl and Shane had pushed Gabriela into the waters. Carl took a boat and told Mili to keep mum.  Carl saw an old man at a distance in the night taking a silhouette on his shoulders haltingly and with great effort.   Frusco Daniil was an old man in his seventies. He was coming home from the Grand Cemetery, where he used to work. Daniil had to support his ailing wife and a son, Derek, whose both legs were amputated after an accident.                                                           Carl helped Gabriela reach Frusco’s house.   “Boss, Gabriela is safe. She is being nursed by an excellent family of Frusco Daniil out in the woods. I have got hold of a doctor and she has given heavy dose of morphine, she is stable.” “Very good. Please stay with Gaby and tell her to remain in Frusco’s house till I come personally to pick her up. The rest I’d be telling you in a minute”, Vilecchio signed off with a sigh of relief.                                                 AFTER THE EXECUTION OF MERYL AND RAHUL   Adriano Vilecchio sent Frusco Daniil and his son to Walter Reed Military Hospital in Bethesda, Maryland for the best prosthetic legs for his son Derek . He sent an aide with Frusco, who would be accompanying him and his son and would stay at the hospital until Derek recovered fully.     Gabriela Ballatini was airlifted to an unknown place in Australia, away from the teeming humdrum. She needed rest and good health. She was going to be a mother  soon. She settled in Australia with a new life and with a new identity. Gaby never wanted to leave Oxford  but for her father. Vilecchio hugged his daughter,                         “  Darling, you don’t worry. Those wicked people are dead. ”     Carl took Frusco’s wife to Rome, she would be undergoing treatment under Vilecchio’s watch.   Mellanie Stone went to MIT to pursue her dream. She kept visiting Gabriela and often went to Rome spending time with Grandpa.   Prikly Stone remained in London. She was heading the Insurance Office and made a name of herself!                                              THE POOR FATE OF JOGI, RAHUL AND MERYL.   When Lazmi’s brother Rehmat  gunned down Jogi she was furious and at the same time very afraid. She needed someone to be by her side and she did get Abhi when she escaped to Calcutta with her mother.                Months passed before Lazmi avenged Jogi’s death by killing Rehmat and his accomplices in Majora.   (Detailed account is given in PART I, II, III – HOW LOVE TRANSCENDS ALL BARRIERS FOR LAZMI SHAHEEN AND MERYL REETHERSPOONE).                                       But the emptiness of losing Jogi created a different Lazmi.                                                     Lazmi was never the same person again.   By queer twist of fate Gabriela lost Rahul Singh. The over possessiveness of Meryl destroyed three lives – in the humdrum of the chaotic forties three lovely souls were overtaken by lust and anger. Those who remained had to bear the pain of the loss.   Lazmi’s and Gabriela’s lives’   hollowness was unfathomable except for them to understand. God plays strange tricks and there are no answers, sometimes, to the questions He throws at us !!   If Meryl had known that the personae of Gabriela Ballatini, Prikly Stone and Melanie Stone were so intricately woven with the might of powerful Adriano Villechio, she perhaps could have withdrawn herself from the lives of Rahul and Gabriela. Prikly never mentioned to Meryl her closeness to Adriano.                                             That could have saved two lives. But that was not to be.                                                                It was never meant to be !! Disclaimer :  Not all, but imaginary characters have been used across the article.

Artificial Intelligence was deployed to identify artworks with greater than 98% accuracy comparing the work of Canaletto and Belloto. Using high-resolution images captured from a medium-format camera, Artificial Intelligence used Pictology to train on a homogenous data set with fixed variables, eliminating the need for onerously large data sets that would be difficult to both acquire and curate. The results were so conclusive that the Organisation using AI was the first to issue the authentication insurance product on paintings. While the implications of the development are profound, the use of artificial intelligence algorithms solve classic problems in art history and attribution - one significant way in which the Organisation distinguished itself from its competitors.                                 Well, the above picture has been AI’' ed to its exceptional form !!   There is a brilliant book by Jack Watling : The Arms of The Future.   What he writes is amazing  !!   From sensor-fuzzed   munitions and autonomous weapons, to ground moving target indication radar, laser vibrometers and artificial intelligence, the weapons of warfare are undergoing a rapid transformation, with modern technologies reshaping how armies intend to fight in the twenty-first century. The Arms of the Future analyses how the emergence of novel weapons systems is shaping the risks and opportunities on the battlefield. Drawing on extensive practical observation and experimentation, the book  unpacks the operational challenges new weapons pose on the battlefield and how armies might be structured to overcome them. At a time when defense spending across NATO is on the rise, and conflict with Russia   raises new questions of what it means to fight a truly modern  war, Watling examines not just the arms to be employed but how they can be fielded and wielded  to survive and prevail in future wars. Generals across the world were roaring with anticipation the accuracy and lethalness of future wars and immediately took umbrage at the guile of artificial intelligence systems which can set alarm and effectively counter the enemy attack. Consider, for example, a hypothetical attack described by retired US Marine Corps   General David Allen, set on March 18, 2021: Our captain and his crew   had not anticipated the incoming swarm because neither he nor his ship recognized that their systems were under cyber-attack.   The undetected cyber activity not only compromised the sensors, but "locked out" defensive systems, leaving the ship almost entirely helpless. The kinetic strikes came in waves as a complex swarm of drones tore into the ship. It was attacked by a cloud of autonomous systems moving together with purpose, yet also reacting dynamically to one another and to the ship. More than anything the speed  of the attack stunned  and overwhelmed the sailors. Though the IT specialists on board the ship were able to release some defensive systems from the clutches of the cyber intrusion, the rest of the crew simply didn't have enough decision-making time to react - mere seconds. In these few seconds,  some of the sailors ascertained, with their limited situational awareness, that the enemy's autonomous cyber and kinetic systems were collaborating. But in a matter of minutes, the entire attack was over. Artificial Intelligence   (AI) significantly enhances the ability of radar systems to detect and identify threats in warfare by improving target recognition, automating decision-making, and enabling adaptive threat modelling.    AI algorithms can process radar data more efficiently than traditional methods, distinguishing between friend and foe, and identifying threats  with greater accuracy.  Here's how AI assists in radar detection in warfare AI algorithms, particularly machine learning and neural networks   can analyze radar signals to identify and classify targets with greater precision,  even distinguishing between different types of vehicles, aircraft, or even individuals.  It can learn from past radar data and adapt  to changing environments, enabling it to predict  potential threats and adjust radar parameters accordingly, enhancing the system's ability to track and engage targets effectively.  AI can automate routine tasks such as identifying potential threats, prioritizing targets, and initiating responses, freeing up human operators for more complex decision-making.  It is so versatile that it can combine data from multiple sensors, including radar and other surveillance tools, to create a more comprehensive picture of the battlefield and improve threat detection accuracy and also optimize radar resources by prioritizing tasks, scheduling scans, and adapting radar parameters to changing environments, ensuring efficient and effective operation.  In essence, AI transforms radar systems from passive detection tools into active and intelligent systems capable of adapting to complex battlefield situations and making real-time decisions to enhance situational awareness and improve the overall effectiveness of military operations.  The above graph shows how AI controlled warfare aids a plane to evaluate the drones and missiles by sending signals to the pilot to take actions.   The missile, drone, and plane are all tracked by radar , showing different movement patterns and signal changes. The missile and drone show looping movements with their signals peaking  when closest to the radar, while the plane flies straight past, with its signals getting stronger as it approaches and weaker as it moves away. These movements and signal strengths are measured using Doppler  shifts, signal-to-noise ratios (SNR), and received signal strength indicators (RSSI), which all indicate how close or far these objects are from the radar. Militaries have for years hired private companies to build custom autonomous weapons. However, Israel's recent wars mark a leading instance in which commercial AI models made in the United States have been used in active warfare, despite concerns that they were not originally developed to help decide who lives and who dies. The Israeli military uses AI to sift through vast troves of intelligence, intercepted communications and surveillance to find suspicious speech or behavior and learn the movements of its enemies. After a deadly surprise attack by Hamas militants on October 7, 2023,   its use of OpenAI  technology skyrocketed, an Associated Press investigation found. The investigation also revealed new details of how AI systems select targets and ways they can go wrong, including faulty data or flawed algorithms. It was based on internal documents, data and exclusive interviews with current and former Israeli officials and company employees. “  This is the first confirmation we have gotten that commercial AI models are directly being used in warfare, ”  said Heidy Khlaaf, chief AI scientist at the AI Now Institute and former senior safety engineer at OpenAI.              “ T he implications are enormous for the role of tech in enabling this type of unethical and unlawful warfare going forward. ” As U.S. tech titans ascend to prominent roles under President Donald Trump, the AP’s findings raise questions about Silicon Valley’s role in the future of automated warfare. A leading US tech company expects its partnership with the Israeli military to grow, and what happens with Israel may help determine the use of these emerging technologies around the world. Mentioning Trump, various studies of Sashi Tharoor rebound many times as he describes Trump a few steps below the grandeur with which the Presidents like Bush, Clinton and Obama held their offices. Is the American election system faulty or there was no one better than the present incumbent? Words go that Premier Benjamin Netanyahu bolted him to power.    A puppet Presi ?? The Israeli  military’s usage of OpenAI artificial intelligence and software from other renowned companies spiked last March to nearly 200 times higher than before the week leading up to the October 7 attack, the AP found in reviewing internal company information. The amount of data it stored on servers doubled between that time and July 2024 to more than 13.6 petabytes  -   roughly 350  times the digital memory needed to store every book in the Library of Congress. Usage of  huge banks of computer servers by the military also rose by almost two-thirds in the first two months of the war alone. Israel’s goal after the attack that killed about 1,200 people and took over 250 hostages was to eradicate Hamas, and its military has called AI a game changer  in yielding targets more swiftly. Since the war started, more than 50,000 people have died in Gaza and Lebanon and nearly 70% of the buildings in Gaza have been devastated, according to health ministries in Gaza and Lebanon.                              In early days of artificial intelligence the usages were not so brutal !!   The case of Gert Oskam drew both heart ache and happiness at the same time ! A Dutchman, paralyzed at his legs – Gert-Jan Oskam  – is now able to walk vibrantly using only his thoughts. The scientific breakthrough happened with the help of two implants that restored communication between the man’s brain and spinal cord, giving him a freedom that he did not have before.   Oskam   had been paralyzed at his legs for more than a decade. It happened after he suffered a spinal cord injury during a bicycle accident. Using this new technology, he can now walk naturally, take on difficult terrain and even climb stairs. The path breaking research on AI combined the spinal implant with the new technology called brain-computer interface.   This was implanted above the part of the brain that controlled leg movement. The interface had the ability to decode brain recordings in real time. That allowed the interface designed by researchers at France's Atomic Energy Commission (CEA) to work out how the patient wanted to move his legs at any moment in real time.   We take a bow to John McCarthy, the father of artificial intelligence, for introducing us to the science and engineering of making intelligent machines, especially intelligent computer programs.   Artificial Intelligence is a way of making a computer, a computer-controlled robot, or a software which thinks   intelligently in the same manner the intelligent humans think.   The neural networks are training in more ways  to find out how human brain thinks, how humans learn, decide, and work while trying to solve a problem and then use these outcomes to frame the basis of intelligent softwares and systems. To understand how Gert-Jan Oskam was put into AI we have to take note of how paralysis works. “ Paralysis occurs when a nervous system is unable to make voluntary muscle movements. ” Uninjured nerves send signals to muscles. Those signals make muscles move. When humans are paralyzed, or have paralysis, they can’t move certain parts of their body. There is a problem with the body’s sensory apparatus and communication system. Normally the nervous system sends signals from the brain throughout the body, telling what to do. If something damages the nervous system, messages can’t get through to muscles. When   AI was introduced into the system of Oskam it created Artificial Neural Networks (ANNs ) to help him. The inventor of the first neurocomputer, Dr. Robert Hecht-Nielsen, defines a neural network as a computing system made up of a number of simple, interconnected processing elements, which process information by their dynamic response to external inputs. Artificial Neural Networks   (ANNs) have the ability to think, re-think and improve upon the responses it has already created based on the external factors!! It will go on changing and improving the network to yield optimum results. The logic of ANN is based on the belief that working of human brain can be understood by making the right connections and can be imitated using silicon and wires as living neurons and dendrites.      The human brain is composed of 100 billion nerve cells called neurons. They are connected to other thousand cells by axons (picture above). Stimuli from external environment or inputs from sensory organs are accepted by dendrites. These inputs create electric impulses, which quickly travel through the neural networks.  A neuron can then send (or does not send) the message to other neuron to handle the issue at hand. The versatility of AI will engulf human kind for ages to come. Take this brilliant example.   We know that every human possesses 23 pairs of chromosomes   that are foundations of our DNA curled in a double helix structure. The demeanour of 22 nd chromosome is puckish, a little impish. It is one of the smallest and arguably one of the most widely discussed of all human chromosomes. In case of blood cancer (leukaemia) the 22 nd  chromosome breaks away and curls towards the 9 th  chromosome and sits with the 9 th !   The DNA structure gets disturbed and the sitting point gets weak.   This creates enough ground for the enzymes to attack the point which leads to profuse multiplication of white blood cells in the bone marrow. This new chromosome is called Philadelphia chromosome and it contains the fused gene BCR-ABL. This gene is the ABL gene of chromosome 9   juxtaposed onto the breakpoint cluster region of BCR gene of chromosome 22. This fusion creates the hybrid protein tyrosine kinase –   often termed as the brutal protein – the cause of cancer. Artificial Intelligence can play a big role to stem the rot. Every human being does not suffer from cancer. The breakage of chromosome 22 and 9 happens when in specific cases the area of chromosome 9 is by nature weak for target cancer human (nicknamed Ollie, let us assume) as compared to another human (nicknamed Pepe) whose chromosome 9 is relatively stronger in the DNA structure. What Ollie can do? Ollie can deposit regular DNA samples to a Lab  where it is fed to an AI controlled ANN system and the neural computer can actually predict the probability of Ollie’s 9 th  getting raided by the 22 nd . The degree of probability (45% or 90%) will help the doctor to start medication even before cancer has stepped in by prescribing medicines which would stop chromosome 22 to sit alongside 9 and create that brutal protein, spelling doom. Artificial Intelligence and the Future of It.   AIs   have made a big mark in the field of predictive mathematics among others. Take the example of the Poincare Conjecture   (conjectures are conclusions or propositions that are proffered on a tentative basis without proof). AI   has been able to solve the complex Poincare Conjecture through the Hamilton-Perelman algorithm. It has extensively used the techniques of Ricci Flow. What is Riici Flow.   It describes a continuous deformation of a Riemannian geometry from short distance to long distance. A simple example of a Ricci flow is that  starting from a round sphere , the sphere will evolve by shrinking homothetically to a point in definite time. In 1904 Poincare raised the question whether a 3-dimensional sphere holds the same characterisation in dimension-3. It remained unsolved for very long time until Perelman’s mathematics were put into   AI structured equations. AI helped in the study of Black Holes. Here, interestingly, astronomers used machine learning to improve the Event Horizon Telescope’s first Black Hole Image. It helped to understand Black Hole behavior and also helped to test the underlying gravitational theories engulfing the black holes. Below is the AI aided stunning, high-definition view of M87’s Big Black Hole !! The other uses of artificial intelligence are to understand the intricacies of Structural Build ings. AI is being used to  create more efficient and accurate designs, optimize construction processes, predict and prevent structural failures . Many benefits of using AI in structural engineering, for example, is by automating the design process and focus on more creative and innovative tasks . And what not! If we talk about AI, difficulties and impairments, we discuss what happens 100 years from now,  the technology will advance to a stage where it will offer equal opportunities and comforts to people with different degrees of difficulties and impairments . Today, in situations such as natural disasters, the human cost involved in relief work is monumental. With the advancement in AI, robots and drones can potentially reach affected areas and work efficiently and wonderfully saving lives. Some research suggests that by the year 2125, most of the decisions in life will be taken by AI.   The way researchers are thinking, AI would be better trained and better equipped to take professional decisions resulting in a better and safer world.                                                Humans would be plucked off from real world. We might as well live in a bubble, in a virtual world surrounded by machines and artilleries never knowing who would my next neighbor be and how I work to survive in my own bubble.                                                   Machines would be taking lot of human jobs. Many of the human jobs woul d be taken over by robots. Human creativity would be at its lowest. The man-machine friendship would die and one would not be surprised if robots created by humans start annihilating humans. Sam Altman, CEO of Open   AI  and creator of ChatGPT is optimistic when he says AI will create new jobs but some old ones may die fast. By the year 2125, future will be way different than we can see and imagine currently. With such great advancements in technology - automated cars, space travels and what not it would be interesting to note how humanity would respond under these troubled circumstances. Constantly interacting with machines would make us machines(?), how our children would adapt, whether marriages would be between two machines(?). Will humans would still be humble and polite or be cruel and ravenous? A basket of worries !! Time will tell. On the contrary, times ahead could be much better than what we have now, the times we never imagined would come to us!! Disclaimer : In selective areas of the article fictional characters are depicted.

While Meryl was mourning death of her mother, Rahul Singh planned a quick stop over to Italy, where he was born to an Italian mother and an Indian father !                                                                             ROME, ITALY. 1946.   Rahul Singh had risen through the ranks to become Lieutenant Colonel in Indian Army. He was to be drafted in the Air Force for his flying skills. Chris Bakes, his boss was very pleased with his performance. When Rahul wanted to go to Italy for ten days Chris had to say yes. Rahul had lost his mother when he was five, he remembered Stephanie  playing with him on week days, Mom was very kind and caring. Rahul’s father, a businessman had married Stephanie; Akarshak Singh was tall, handsome and Stepahanie Giovanna liked his honesty and sincerity. After Stephanie’s death Rahul moved to India with his father who did well as an entrepreneur in Bombay’s busy business life. When Rahul reached Castelmezzano  it was evening. He took a small inn for the night, next morning he would be travelling to his mother’s ancient house. It took him less than forty minutes to reach the small, beautiful two roomed “Paradiso”. He could reminisce the joys and sorrows he shared with Mom and Dad, Mom always cheering everyone, Dad would come late; it took a while to settle on the dinner table with cheese, wine – the primo  would be risotto with meat sauce, fruits. Dad would be taking sausages and poultry in secondo. We would all settle for a good movie before going to bed !!   In next couple of days Rahul would be in Rome before he reached London to meet Meryl!   Gabriela Ballatini was ten the first time she held a piano, twenty-eight before she found love. She knew it would be for keeps; nothing could take its place. Rahul was playing billiards in Palazzo Manfredi bar when Gabriela dropped in with her best friend, Esther. It was instantaneous coup de foudre, though later even she didn't understand why. It was something about the sheer presence of the man.                                                                   She fell for him on the spot.   With a cigarette glued to his lower lip, eyes half closed in rapt concentration, Rahul played billiards with a quite extraordinary skill. Gabriela, very sporty herself, responded to talent; this guy was good. As the session ended; he rose and stretched, dismissed the audience with a curt nod and made way for the disco. That summer “Five Minutes More” were topping the charts and the room was now filled with Frank Sinatra’s rasping voice. The year was 1946, the start of the Perry Como era.                                                               NEW DELHI, INDIA. MAY 2025.   Member of Parliament (MP) and a distinguished orator Shashi Tharoor   led a delegation to USA, Panama, Guyana, Brazil and Colombia highlighting India’s stand after the Pahalgam terror attack.  Operation Sindoor,  which was carried out in retaliation for the terror attack, was planned assiduously. Tharoor commended its planning and execution, " I have no doubts that a meticulously planned operation like this came out of a very sophisticated military headquarters. It's not some random, crazy doing something. ”   “The overall crisis was handled extremely well. I have gone on record saying that Operation Sindoor, from the naming to the presentation to the conduct, everything I give full marks to,” Tharoor said. He also stressed the need for Pakistan to understand India’s changed posture on terrorism:   “   We are not anymore prepared to take all these terror attacks. The more you do, the more consequences you are going to face. I think all that messaging was very clear, and the Pakistanis have got that message . ”     Operation Sindoor, launched in the early hours of May 08, did trigger  a series of military exchanges between India and Pakistan.  DGMO, Pakistan   (Director General Military Operations) was quick  to request DGMO India to halt its operations.   Eventually, upon fervent pleas from Islamabad, India agreed to cease all military actions - on land, air, and sea - by 5 pm Saturday, May 08. BOMBAY AND KARACHI, INDIA. 1946. Rahul couldn’t have imagined in his wildest dream that the very Mumbai ports where he would work with pride had turned into a bloody battleground! His first reaction was to come back to India but destiny had other plans for him. How could Rome, his birthplace, have such crooked designs in store, those designs that would push him into an abyss he wouldn’t be able to scale inspite of his best efforts?                                                                                 Poor Rahul.   This was one of very rare  instances in India’s freedom struggle when Nehru and Jinnah were on the same platform agreeing to each other.  And that was -   quelling the Royal Indian Navy Mutiny !!   In February 1946, sailors of the Royal Indian Navy mutinied.   They were inspired by the heroism of the Azad Hind Fauj. But their anger was sparked by terrible service conditions, racism, and broken recruitment promises. In less than 48 hours, 20,000 men took over 78 ships and 21 shore establishments, and replaced British flags with the entwined flags of the Congress, the Muslim League and the Communists. The British panicked and announced that a Cabinet Mission   would discuss modalities of transfer of power. Indian troops refused to fire on the ratings, and the mutiny sparked revolts in other branches of the armed forces. People who thronged the streets in support were incessantly fired upon. 400 were dead and 1500 injured. Karachi was also affected. To thwart the rebellion, British commanded powerful warship HMS Glasgow to sail rapidly and ordered low sorties by the RAF fighter planes. In retaliation, the ratings trained the guns mounted on the captured ships towards the shore, threatening to blow Gateway of India, Yacht Club, and the dockyards. As violence escalated, angry telegrams flew between the British PM, Atlee, and Viceroy's (Lord Wavell) office. While the communists flamed the ratings, the Congress and the Muslim League pushed them to surrender, promising they would not be victimized. Ingloriously, even after Independence the governments of India and Pakistan refused  to honour those promises. Pramod Kapoor  was disenchanted as he wrote in his book - 1946, Last War Of Independence – Royal Indian Navy Mutiny: “ The mutiny caused public disagreements between Gandhiji and Aruna Asaf Ali, and between Sardar Patel and Nehru. As last war of independence it hastened the transfer of power. Yet, this seminal event, which inspired songs, art and theatre has been edited out of the popular narratives of the Freedom Movement. ” While our madrasas  do not teach how to become a terrorist,  our history classes should include the Royal Indian Navy Mutiny in their curriculum. One might hasten to add that Nehru  had ideological differences with Subhas Chandra Bose and his Azad Hind Fauz, while Jinnah  desperately wanted the mutiny to end – as he wanted Pakistan to happen – and happen fast !!                                                                            But in spite of that !! Winston Churchill,   the next PM of Britain, did not mince words, roaring like a hurt tiger he announced, “Mohandas Gandhi is responsible for all this.” Churchill saw British imperialism as a form that benefited its subject peoples because he believed   by conquering and dominating other peoples, the British were also elevating and protecting them.   To Churchill, the idea of dismantling the Empire by transferring power to its subject peoples was anathema – especially manifested in his opposition to the Government of India Act 1935 and his acerbic comments about  Mahatma Gandhi, whom he called a seditious middle temple lawyer, now posing as a fakir.                                                                           How audacious !!   Some historians have debated whether Churchill was driven in this antipathy by imperialism or by any other social menace. He was angered in autumn 1930 by the Labour government's decision to grant dominion status to India. He argued that it would hasten calls for full independence from the British Empire as he joined the I ndian Empire Society  which opposed the granting of Dominion status.   Winston Churchill always believed himself to be a man of destiny. Because of this he lacked restraint and could be reckless. His self-belief manifested in his affinity with war   of which he exhibited a profound and innate understanding.  Churchill considered himself a military genius  but that made him vulnerable to failure and Paul Addison says the Gallipoli disaster was the greatest blow his self-image was ever to sustain.  However, that although Churchill was excited and exhilarated by war, he was never indifferent to the suffering it caused.   Churchill’s upbringing fell short on expectations in many ways. Winston Churchill attended a boarding school, St George’s, for six years and then went to Harrow for seven more; the latter is among the most elite of British public schools. While at Harrow he wrote 76  times to his parents between 1885 and 1892, and received not more than six letters. In one of these, his mother Jennie remonstrated him over his schoolwork and thoughtlessness, adding , “ you repay badly your father’s (Lord Randolph) kindness to you. ”   Lord Randolph remained convinced that his eldest son Winston would never amount to anything and took little interest in him. Once Lord Randolph   castigated   Winston for incessant complaints and his total lack of application at Sandhurst.   Wealthy, privileged and fiercely independent New Yorker Jennie Jerome (Winston’s mother) took Victorian England by storm. As Lady Randolph Churchill she gave birth to a man who defined twentieth century: her son Winston. But as the family’s influence soared, scandals exploded and tragedy befell the Churchills. Jennie was inescapably drawn to the brilliant and seductive Count Charles Kinsky –  diplomat, skilled horse racer and a deeply passionate lover. She disrupted lives, including her own, as their impossible affair only intensified leaving Randolph Churchill’s sanity frayed.   Forced to decide where her heart truly belonged, Jennie risked everything – even her son – on both sides of the Atlantic ! Violet, one of Jennie’s many accomplices, once quipped – Jennie barely spared Winston a thought when he was a boy. Only when he was old enough to be interesting  – to worship her as she liked – did she bother to take him. Poor chap might have been raised by wolves !!   Winston Churchill’s childhood and adulthood were sketchy and were bereft of proper guidance. The hollowness created was thus deeply ingrained in his personality and in later years was scornful like a bull.           His father, Randolph, detested Indians and saw native Indians as a vast sheet of oil !!   Lord Randolph Churchill  made his career in politics winning a seat in Parliament in 1874 as a Conservative, rising as a Tory leader of significance, enjoying the favour of Prime Ministers Disraeli and Salsbury,  until an untimely, prolonged illness struck him at the age of 40. After June 1885 election Randolph was appointed Secretary of State for India. He worked for brief seven months and built military capacity in India and strengthened British position in Burma; but after being appointed Chancellor of the Exchequer in 1886 he differed with Salsbury on issues and offended   Queen  Victoria by sending his resignation letter while a guest at Windsor Castle, using Royal stationary, what was then a glaring breach of etiquette! That was an unceremonious end to what had been estimated as a stellar political career.   The Indians almost vomited  as he read with contempt one of his several speeches to House of Commons: “ Our rule in India is, as it were, a vast sheet of oil spread over the surface of, and keeping calm and quiet and unruffled by storms, an immense and profound ocean of humanity. Underneath that rule lie hidden all the memories of fallen dynasties, all the traditions of vanquished races, all the pride of insulted creeds; and it is our task, our most difficult business, to give peace, individual security, and general prosperity to the two hundred and fifty million of people who are affected by these powerful forces; to bind them and to weld them by the influence of our knowledge, our law, and our higher civilisation, in the process of time, into one great, united people; and to offer to all the nations of the West the advantages of tranquillity and progress in the East. That is our task for India . " " That is the raison d’etre in India. That is our title to India. ” A wayward mother and a whimsical father were what Winston got and the upbringing in those venomous surroundings brought about in him, apart from other reasons, a deep hatred for India.                                                                      ROME, ITALY. 1946. Daughter of   Adriano Vilecchio, a shipping magnate,   Gabriela Ballatini had a Doctorate  from Magdalen College at Oxford due to her quite outstanding performance in maths. That and her all round proficiency in music which had earned her additional ensorcellment at the college, inevitably asking her to join the college Chair, liking the fact that she also taught music.                                                                      She was in Rome for a month !! With her self-assurance and keenness for study, she took as a challenge whatever she tried. So, when she encountered Rahul Singh, she did not fumble her cue. He had no idea who she was, of course, but she walked straight up and addressed him boldly. “Hi”. “And who are you?”, Rahul’s eyes were blank. “Gabriela Ballatini,” she said without a flicker. And took what she felt was a natural place by his side. Gabriela had cracked maths by the age of two, helped by the numbers in the air that floated perpetually round her. Once she had tried to explain to her dad but realised from his blank incomprehension that she could never make him understand. She always got full marks in tests, the only thing that mattered, she felt.   “It's obvious really,” was all she could say when baffled teachers asked how she did it. From whence had come this astonishing skill in a child who could still barely read?                                                       Whatever it was, it worked for Gabriela.   She sailed through her education. The music, too, was an extra gift, not only the piano but her voice as well. A genetic throwback, perhaps, from the past had touched her with great distinction. For the first four years, as an only child, she was the focus of her parents' attention. They, aware of how bright she was, carefully monitored her mental growth and, when the flair for maths emerged, paid for a private tutor who was similarly dazzled. Magdalen was everything Gabriela required to stretch her intellectually. She had chosen to study pure mathematics as a subject on its own. It was usual to combine it with something but, due to her startling precocity,   the faculty allowed her to have her own way. A future Nobel laureate,   perhaps; an extra coup for the college that she was female. She researched passionately, as she always had, at music as well as at maths. The piano  enabled her to unwind, when at last she got round to joining, provided a social life of sorts which took her away from her books. Music helped her to transcend; when she closed her eyes and relaxed her brain, she heard it in vivid colours. Couple of days had passed and she badly needed to see Rahul again but the only place she knew where to find him was at Rick's Club, where he seemed to be a regular feature. Tuesdays and Fridays from nine pm on she was fairly certain of finding him playing, though it meant the risk of staying out late. Normally law-abiding, Gabriela   was prepared to take that risk, although usually he was surrounded by players on the billiards table and showed no sign of remembering who she was. Nursing her last drink for the night, she decided she would carefully work her way towards him, then speed off before the game was closed.  He possessed a wide array of admirers, and could play a game on request  from across the board. He seemed to be mainly stuck with male friends which was weird.   It was 1 am in the morning Gabriela knocked at Rahul’s hotel room. Anger pumped his blood. "What the hell do you want?" "To be honest, nothing." "Says every thief who sneaks," he snarled, trying to shrug off his anger, but it was of no use. A corner of her lips tipped. "Do I look like a thief, Prince?"   He ran his gaze down her, noticing for the first time the smart cut of her white dress, the bright red pocket square, and the shiny, polished cindrellas. "I know I am." He looked at her in disbelief. Bloody, arrogant woman.   "I should have slapped you when I had the chance," he spat out. "Dreary lady." "So volatile. So sexy." She shifted both his hands in one of hers and stared at him. Her free hand caressed his cheek.   A wave ran through him. She saw it. "Interesting and so very unexpected," she said softly, her eyes never leaving him. " I really am a guest here, Prince."   He opened his mouth to shout, but she clamped a hand on his lips.   "Your screaming will only draw attention, and that's not what I want. I've already invested enough time on you." Her face came closer. "The problem is I've rather enjoyed this encounter...a lot." Her hands tightened around his. "I like having you in my arms like this."   The way her words sounded, the sudden predatorial gleam in her eyes  - all of it made his blood sizzle. He pushed an inch closer to her, and her heart drummed in her ribcage. Her skin was suddenly too warm. She felt like she was losing control of her mind and body. Like he was casting a spell on her. It was too much. He was too much. She had to be with him.   Shutting her eyes, she slumped in his arms. His hand fell from her bosom. His hold on her tightened. Using that to her advantage, she butted her head with his jaw. His head flew back. The top of her own head rang in pain, but she ignored the sharp sting. Pushing him, she went toward the room leading to the bed but he couldn't let her go like that. He clasped her shoulder and turned her around. Caught by surprise, she stumbled and fell against his chest. He gripped her ample bosom in one hand and ran his fingers to her underwear. The shock in her gaze gave way to something else. Something potent and deeper. The very air around them was charged. With a sudden jerk, he hauled her closer. She was plastered against him now, her breasts crushed to his chest, her hands splayed on his shoulders, her mouth a mere inch from his. Her scent  washed over him. It was soft, subtle ... intriguing... like her. Something shook loose inside his chest. All of a sudden, he ached to learn her scent, to press her closer and smelled  the softness of her mouth. Her hands dug into his shoulders. His hands curled into her waist, unable to release her. She stared at him as if she, too, was caught in whatever madness had descended upon him. Her eyes warmed, and she let out a shaky breath. Rahul Singh and Gabriela Ballatini made love the whole week, Rahul postponed his journey to London and Gabriela had told his dad she had found the man of her life ! Adriano Vilecchio had listened to her daughter’s delight with care. The very little he had known of Rahul, he found him a pleasing man and handsome, something Gabriela had fallen for. He would be happy to see her daughter settle with Rahul and looked forward to the day when both would get married. Vilecchio was the ruler of an empire larger than most countries. He had no title or official standing but he regularly bought and sold prime ministers, ambassadors  and kings. Vilecchio was one of the two wealthiest men in the world and his power was legendary. He owned the largest fleet of cargo ships, two airlines, newspapers, banks, steel mills, gold mines - his tentacles were inextricably woven throughout the woof and warp of the economic fabric of dozens of countries. Adriano Vilecchio was above medium height, with a barrel and broad shoulders. His features were swarthy,   and he had a broad Greek nose and olive black eyes that blazed with intelligence. He was not interested in clothes, yet he was always on the list of best-dressed men and it was rumoured that he owned over five hundred suits. He had his clothes made where ever he happened to be. His suits were tailored by Hawes Curtis in London, his shirts  by Brioni in Rome, shoes  by Daliet Grande in Paris and ties from USA. It was five in the evening on Monday when Gabriela arrived at the reception counter of Hotel Palazzo Manfredi. “Buona sera madame.” “Good evening, Francoise! Can you please connect room number 101.” “Yes Sure. Madame, L’ospite aveva fatto il check-out la mattina!” Madam, the guest had checked out in the morning today.   Gabriela was stunned and angry. Where had Rahul gone(?). They had to visit the museum Galleria Borghese at six  followed by a stinging opera performance The Barber of Seville by Gioachino Rossini. Gabriela frantically wanted to speak to Rahul but she could not. Vilecchio was in a business, meeting delegations from France and South Africa when his phone rang. “Yes, darling.” And his face went red, he stopped for a moment and looked at the guests. “Please excuse me, I will have to take this call.” Vilecchio was at the tarmac when he heard Gabriela crying hysterically, “Papa, Rahul is nowhere available, I had tried him a hundred times, he has checked out in the morning and left a note he would speak to me as soon as he is free. It is nine o’ clock papa and I am not able to speak to Rahul ………” The phone went on as Gabriela cried her heart out. Vilecchio never wanted this to happen. He would make amends.   “Don’t worry Gaby, I am in a meeting. I promise you I will find Rahul. Now stop crying!”   Rahul touched down London at 1 pm on Monday afternoon by the British Airways flight. Meryl was waiting for him at the airport, she took him straight to her house, she had eagerly waited for him, how anxious she was when he announced  he would be coming a week later. “Hi sweety,” Rahul announced as he folded Meryl into a deep hug.   Rahul was happy Meryl had recovered after the horrible accident in her house, her entire body was in flames due to fire. Rahul had arranged the best doctor in London for her plastic surgery. The medical procedure had gone so well that after the surgery Meryl looked petite and even more beautiful whenever she wore the black wig on. He had bought her excellent wigs from around the globe!   “What was the work, Rahul, that kept you away from me for so long?” “Darling, it is too small for you to spend sleepless nights on. I had some unfinished work.” “Ah!” “I am famished, I need lots of food and rest. And I need you !!”. Rahul was eager to stop Meryl from undue questioning.   After dinner both made love. Meryl was very happy to get Rahul in her arms. She had to find out what went wrong in Rome, he was not his usual self, he was not the same Rahul when they had made love; something was amiss.   She decided she would tell her office to find out the details of a number she got hold of from Rahul’s army uniform. It had to be done silently and quickly! Vileccchio told Carl Bruno to find out everything about Rahul Singh, from his roots in India to his place of interest in London! “I want it done in a week,” Vilecchio roared.   Bruno was the most trusted aide of Vilecchio. Carl had served the German Secret Service before joining Vilecchio and was very efficient in espionage and counter espionage activities which Vilecchio had to undertake to govern his sprawling business. Rahul went to India after a few days, he had already overshot his leave by a week and his boss would be shouting mad at him!   Meryl landed in Leonardo da Vinci airport few days later with Shane Gough. She was surprised Shane had an uncle in Rome. Richard Thornton worked in a brewery  south of Rome and Associated Breweries had provided a beautiful house for Richard, Olivia and their two children!! The next ten days would be crucial for Meryl as she would definitely meet few people of interest, she needed to know everything about Rahul’s stay in Rome. Meryl decided to move to a hotel as Richard’s house was too small to accommodate six people. Olivia was a wonderful lady and it took lot of reasoning to convince Richard and Olivia that moving out in a hotel in Rome would best serve their interest.   Palazzo Manfredi was a decent hotel at the heart of Rome and Shane had booked two large rooms for them. The next few days were very important for Meryl !!   It was 10 in the morning Meryl was sipping coffee in her room when the intercom rang. What Prikly Stone spoke for the rest of ten minutes was all Meryl needed to get a start. “The number you gave me belongs to Gabriela Ballatini, daughter of shipping magnate Adriano Vilecchio. More details are not with me at the moment. I would find out as soon as I can.” “Thanks, Prikly, it will do for the moment. And I’m coming with lots of chocos for you, don’t worry!”                                                                              The line went off.   When Meryl and Shane touched down at Mumbai a week later it was 10 in the evening. Rahul had arranged two rooms at Hotel Ritz, Meryl was tired, she needed good food and sound sleep. The next morning with Rahul would be fun!! She would tell him to choose between she and Gabriela and in case he refused her she would go back to London the very next day. Gabriela Ballatini had almost finished her vacation and she was desperate to re-ignite her time with Rahul, she kept on saying to herself that it was very very bad of Rahul to leave her in the lurch, she was too proud a lady to accept the snub – it would be a failure of her conquest !! Joining University  would keep her busy and she was looking forward to the annual function in a month at the University. The passing out ceremony of the current batch of maths geniuses would be wonderful, she thought. A lot of them would go to Princeton or MIT for doctorals and they needed Gabriela’s assist dearly.   “Oh, Gabriela, you are a genius, this is your world; she muttered to herself!”                                                              But she was unable to forget Rahul. Next morning Shane had to go to Bombay port for some urgent work. Rahul reached by 11 am and had buttered toast and coffee with Meryl. He was the usual ebullient self; he hugged Meryl and kissed her good morning. “Good morning, sweety, the night was good?”” “No night is good without you Rahul.” “Ah, I know dear. Don’t worry, the nights would be good, very good. It would be amazing, darling.” “I know, Rahul. The nights would be amazing, just like those amazing nights you spent with Gabriela,” Meryl glanced at Rahul nonchalantly. “Gabriela?”, Rahul was speechless for a second but flashed back a smile immediately. “What do you know about Gabriela?” Meryl shot back with rage, “Yes Gabriela, and don’t try to fool me this time. I knew you had many flings with girls but I kept silent because those were times I was naïve and was hopelessly in love with you." She came close to Rahul, “I’m still in love with you Rahul, tell me the whole thing was a joke, a bad dream!” “I, … Meryl please control yourself and stop shouting. I can explain.” Rahul did not know what to tell.     “Then please explain Lieutenant Colonel Rahul Singh, did you sleep with Gabriela Ballatini? I want an answer right now.” “Yes, I slept with Gabriela, and it all happened so fast that I didn’t have time to react.” “How funny”, Meryl was fuming, she looked so nice in her curled wig, “you had time to sleep with that bitch and couldn’t find time to react?”  Meryl was hysterical.   Rahul grabbed Meryl tightly and kissed her hard on her fuming lips. Meryl was still, he felt so warm and looked even more handsome. He lifted Meryl with his strong arms and placed her softly on the sparkling white bed. He unrobed her slowly, her naked body was still very beautiful. Rahul had never seen a naked body as beautiful as Meryl’s.  Meryl wanted Rahul badly. Both made intense love for the whole afternoon. Meryl was stroking his hair with affection, how dearly she loved Rahul. Rahul finished his tea in bed and kissed Meryl. He told the entire thing, how Gabriela stomped into his room in Italy and made the most of the weak moments they were in. “I’m really very sorry Meryl what happened. Honestly, she came out of nowhere, I want to get rid of those nights as bad dream. We should settle down quickly, I want you to marry me, I honestly do.” “Ok, you liar. My crush on you has not waned even after your many nights of improbity. I will marry you but on one condition.” “What condition.” “Gabriela has to be finished off.” “Meryl!!” “You don’t worry Rahul, let me take care of this.” ENGLAND, DECEMBER 15, 1946.   It was a bright sunny morning at Oxford.   Gabriela had waited for this day – the passing out ceremony of the mathematics graduates followed by a get together dinner with students and their guardians.   Meryl Reetherspoone was present that evening at the Private Hall of Oxford. Mellanie Stone was graduating out in maths from Magdalen College and Prikly had requested Meryl to be there for her daughter, she was in hospital recovering from a bout of pneumonia!                                                   Meryl had grabbed that chance jubilantly.   Mellanie Stone was a very bright student of Magdalen, she was brilliant at maths and a personal favourite of Gabriela;   Mili – as she called out Melanie affectionately  – was heading for MIT (Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Cambridge, USA) for post-graduation and research in space science. Gabriela had put a strong recommendation at MIT for Mili, she would get enrolled in MIT Schwarzman College of Computing after a month. Gaby Ma’am was everything to her, a local guardian of sorts.   “Hello, Meryl. Welcome to Oxford.” Mellanie greeted Meryl with a smile “Hello, darling. Sad Prikly couldn’t come, she’ll be alright don’t bother for that.” Meryl smiled    matter-of-factly. “Yeah, sure she will. Can I get you a drink?” “It’s ok dear. Who is the lady you were listening to with rapt attention?”, Meryl asked. “Oh, she’s Gaby ma’am. Our maths teacher.” “How lovely. If you get around her, will you introduce me to her?” “Sure. In a minute. There she is, you wait here, I’ll come with ma’am.” “Thanks.” Mellanie Stone was watching Gabriela intensely. Her teacher was mingling with the students, and their guardians, freely but something was bothering Gaby Ma’am. What was it(?). She could not make out .  After a month she would be leaving the beautiful premises of the college and head to MIT; she was averse to going to US but Gaby ma’am was relentless in her advice. “Ma’am, I need to introduce you to Meryl.” “Ah, I see. Have we met before(?).” “No, ma’am, she is filling the shoes of mom, she would be over her pneumonia in a couple of days.” “I’m sorry, Mili. Prikly would be fine; I had to meet her tomorrow.” “Sure, ma’am.” “Ok, let’s go.” “Hi, this is Meryl. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Meryl shook hands. “Mili is a dear student, I’ve huge plans for her. How’s Prikly, by the way”, Gabriela replied smilingly. “She is fine, will come home in a couple of days.” “Excellent. Let’s have something to celebrate Mili’s success.” Gabriela’s throat had dried! At this point Meryl stared at Gabriela and smiled, “Gabriela, can I speak to you alone for a moment please(?).” “Yes, sure. Let’s get some fresh air”. Gabriela led her to the open paved tarmac on the rear side of the hall. They approached the end of tarmac facing the underbridge when Meryl snapped. “How often have you slept with Rahul Singh”, Meryl snorted. “Rahul……….”, Gabriela gasped, unable to speak a word for a few seconds. “How do you know Rahul(?).” “You bitch, you had planned to snatch Rahul away from me. Rahul is mine, never ever dream of getting close to him”, Meryl was furious. Gabriela, now in her elements, smiled wickedly, “oh, you dumb lady. Rahul is not happy sleeping with you, he never enjoys fucking you, your insipid, lustreless body is revolting, your foul, putrid smell nauseates him ………………”, she kept on telling lies after lies not knowing a word what was she mumbling. Rahul had never mentioned Meryl to her, who’s this Meryl(?). “You scum of a bitch”, Meryl roared with a shriek, Gabriela stopped her midway announcing, “and I’m marrying Rahul.” The words left Meryl dumbfounded. She came running towards Gabriela and slammed her boots fiercely with her right leg   under her belly. So powerful was the impact that Gabriela fell to the ground moaning. Meryl quickly called for Shane. Mili saw from far corner of the hall a dark silhouette dragging someone and pushing it down to the waters of the underbridge.                                                                                   She ran inside.   Half an hour had passed when Melanie saw Meryl chatting with other guests at the hall. She was terrified with the whole incident, she had decided she would not tell anybody about it.   Melanie cried inconsolably in her bed that night. Her dear Gaby ma’am had been ruthlessly murdered!     What could be the reason, Mili could never understand (?). Disclaimer: The names Mili, Meryl Reetherspoone, Melanie Stone, Prikly, Gabriela Ballatini, Rahul Singh, Richard Thornton, Carl Bruno, Adriano Vilecchio, Esther and Olivia are imaginary and do not hold any resemblance to any person(s) dead or alive.

Calcutta, India 1944. It was time for Lazmi to quickly regroup her life. Jogi was indeed dear to her and the disbelief at the brutality her brother inflicted on Jogi completely shattered her. Her first reaction was to flee Majora and head for Calcutta, where she had a dear friend – she believed things would work out anyway. She took the first train to Calcutta to reach the humdrum of muzzled people running to somehow eke a living out of nothing !! It took two years for Meryl Reetherspoone to visit India again, now as Meryl Reetherspoone Dexter, wife of Bill Dexter – Tutor of English at Queens College. During regular visits to Queens College, Adela,  Meryl’s mother, chanced upon different teachers at the school. Bill Dexter was a sweet personality, Adela believed, and would be the right guy for Meryl, she thought. A meeting was arranged and Meryl agreed to the marriage as she knew her mother had little time with her - the cancer was aggressive and the doctors found no hope. Meryl was happy she was in India once again, the fiery roads and simple women folks – who endured many unhappy moments in their lives, as she came to acknowledge - and had in mind a profound desire to know this country many Englishmen spoke with a broad smile back home. Couple of years back though, Meryl had come to India for a week’s visit along with her mother, hosted by local British officer Charles Hope. Meryl announced that she was desirous to see India in all its forms. Meandering through several discussions Meryl said she avoided speaking to Indians unless they were her own servants, but amused everyone saying " I want to know India and I want to see Indians!" Mrs. Jennifer Morton, well known to Adela, had long been to India. A stupid British woman, Jennifer spoke without hindrance and more often than not left the audience mortified for her shameful utterances. When Meryl stepped to visit the place and know Indians, Jennifer was left dumbfounded. Enduring these two long years   Mrs. Morton would still be in India and seeing her Meryl was disgusted and felt sorry shamefaced at the half-witted Shakespeare-an English she gulped out, more so now when Bill Dexter would look at her disparagingly,  “… what kind of friends do you make Meryl? I didn’t know her, she bounced on my lap in my earlier visit, I had a long stint with her, do you mind helping me with a glass of wine, dear?”  Meryl was irate, one with the hot sun and the other, with Bill’s pointedly disgusting remarks.                                                        Bill strode to pour some wine for Meryl. Next day Meryl went to the Ballard Pier. It is known that Bombay Port Trust reclaimed 22 acres of land at Ballard Estate between 1914 and 1918, Ballard Estate was named after Colonel J.A. Ballard, a founder of the Mumbai Port Trust, which constructed the Port and Ballard Pier. Meryl was fascinated with the efforts at the Pier and she would love to know the endeavour her fellow Englishmen would have put to increase business from this seemingly important Port. But to her consternation, Meryl was greeted with contempt at the Port with a large, angry crowd uttering abuses for the English and demanded they leave India immediately. It turned out that earlier in the day, one Indian worker at the port was manhandled and subsequently killed   by an English police officer. She shouted at Bill and told to return immediately as the crowd was increasingly becoming restive. All of a sudden, an Indian officer, with khakis on, strode quickly towards Meryl, “Mrs. Dexter – no need to worry, I’m in charge and the situation would be fully under control in no time. Please be my guest and I’ll be honoured if you have faith in me”. Meryl was struck by the confidence and power of his personality. Standing at almost six feet with bright eyes Rahul Singh was easy with his English and had an assured gait, Meryl felt, which was quite often not found among these people !! Meryl was almost sure, but could not believe, and after days of thought questioned herself - “Am I overly taken in by Rahul?” . She had no time to blush, all of a sudden Rahul had taken her senses completely and she was helpless as she could not overlook him.  Bill had crossed her path with having very little or no impact on her life. She realised she did not love Bill.                                             She muttered to herself, her marriage was in ruins !! It was raining heavily and Meryl was quickly escorted by Shane Gough, the entourage manager, to a waiting cart and to safety. Did Rahul arrange all this(?), Meryl was not sure! Nehru dreamed of an India, freed alike of the shackles of poverty and of superstition, unburdened of capitalism, an India in which the smoke stacks of factories reached out from her cities, an India enjoying the plenitude of that Industrial Revolution which her colonizers had denied her access to. Gandhi felt no one might have seemed a more likely candidate to lead India towards that vision than Jawaharlal Nehru. Under the cotton khadi he wore in deference to the dictates of Congress, though he remained the quintessential English gentleman. In a land of mystics, he was a cool rationalist. Nehru despised  India's priests, her sadhus, her chanting monks and pious sheikhs. They had only served, he felt, to impede India's progress, deepen divisions and ease the task of foreign rulers. And yet, the India of those sadhus and superstition-haunted masses had accepted Nehru for thirty years as he had travelled across the country haranguing the multitudes. Clinging to the roofs and sides of tramways to escape the slums of India's cities, on foot and by bullock cart in the country sides, his countrymen had come by the hundreds of thousands to see and hear him.  Many in those crowds could not hear his words nor understand them when they did.  For them, it had been enough however just to see, over the ocean of heads around them, his frail and gesticulating silhouette. They had taken darshan, a kind of spiritual communion received from being in the presence of a great man, who despised Jinnah, and that had sufficed. Abhimanyu Sen (Abhi) had come to the Calcutta  railway station to receive Lazmi. Abhi was a nice boy of good parentage and had been working at Lahore Talkies as an assistant to camera operator. They had met earlier once when Lazmi was in Calcutta to see her aunt.  Lazmi felt assured of herself finding a good foot at this crowded city, more so to get Abhi know her tragedy, he promising her to get a job – she had to feed two mouths. Her mother Mehroz Bano was still in shock what happened to Jogi back in Punjab. After all, Lazmi had Bano’s back when it came to Jogi. Lazmi got a job at Lahore Talkies, helping technicians to fix the sets before a take. Abhi was happy for her as both grew affectionate towards each other, Lazmi often brought lunch for Abhi and he loitered with her in spare time. But Lazmi never forgot her beloved Jogi, she was simmering inside to teach her brother Rehmat a lesson. Abhi by her side, she quietly took a night train to Majora when she got the news that Rehmat had again come to Majora to loot people. In the dead of night that evening Lazmi and Abhi set the entire house on fire as Rehmat and his men were fast asleep – the dacoits had consumed large amounts of food and alcohol !!                                                    Rehmat and his men were burnt to death. Back in Calcutta, Lazmi got a chance in  one of Saifuddin Khan’s film.  Saifuddin or Saifu was a big producer of films and was head over heels in love with Lazmi - and she utilised that opportunity. Over time she grew in her work and slowly started keeping Abhi aside as he was only an assistant to cameraman and Saifu had catapulted her to a rising star  of Roy Talkies.  Abhi had lost his job at Lahore Talkies, Saifu did not like Abhi and now he was back to being out of employment.                     Abhi was pained at Lazmi's turn,   in fact it still did not go down with him that she was in Saifu’s arms – how could she be so indecent and lewd hurling Abhi out of the window in a flash not knowing that corrupt Saifu would milk every inch of her skin and would throw her away !! Shreshta was right about Lazmi, when she assessed her as an opportunist swimming with the tide to make money. That day Abhi realised the worth Shreshta had in his life, how so different she was from  Lazmi !! As soon as Abhi got a job at Roy Talkies as a waiter he married Shreshta Roy – it did not matter to him a bit that Lazmi was working at the same studio - she was an actress  now! Life had taken a brutal turn for Abhi and he would reminisce his early days, the long walks with Lazmi, the happy lunch time together at Lahore Talkies, the friendly staff there always pushing them as a lovely pair and above all, the togetherness Lazmi showed. Was it all unreal?                                   Will Lazmi  eventually go back to Abhi? Only time will tell ! ! Delhi,1943-46.  Between Gandhi and Nehru, a fascinating father-son relation grew up, animated by all the tensions, affections and repressed guilt such a relationship implied. All his life, Nehru had an instinctive need for a dominant personality near him,  some steadying influence to whom he could turn in the crises engendered by his volatile nature. Time was ticking very fast! Jinnah could not wait for Pakistan to happen! With his usual candour, Admiral Mountbatten told Nehru that he had been given an appalling responsibility and he intended to approach the Indian problem in a mood of stark realism. As they talked, the two men agreed on two major points: one - a quick decision was essential to avoid a bloodbath and two - the division of India would be a tragedy. Could it have been avoided? No. The division did happen. Only if Mountbatten had known the illness of Jinnah  at the time of Partition we all would have been saved from this dreadful country called Pakistan – a country who never improved from the grotesque demeanour of rabidity,  brutality and from foolishly claiming they knew Islam.                                                                Pakistan never understood Islam !!   Jammu & Kashmir, 2025. Because Islam never tells to kill innocent people brutally just because they are not Muslims. What happened on 22nd of April 2025 at Pahalgam , Jammu & Kashmir – 77 years after Jinnah boastfully told his allies that in Pakistan the Hindus and the Muslims would live in  peace – places Pakistan as a country of deceit.                                              And a country which fosters extremism and militancy.   Madiha Afzal writes in the book Pakistan Under Siege - Extremism, Society and the State :   Quote. “  The Pakistani state has used its education system as a vital pawn in shaping its citizens' thinking. I identify the role that education - education in terms of years in school, of curricula in public and private schools, and of the much-maligned madrassa system, which is often blamed for fostering extremism in Pakistan - plays in defining  attitudes on extremism. I do this through quantitative analysis  of survey data, interviews with students in schools and colleges, and an in-depth study of textbooks and teachings Much of the current work on extremism in Pakistan tends to look at it from a detached position,  from a top-down security perspective, limited to the actions of the state with little focus on how those actions affect the ordinary Pakistani. The historical underpinnings of the state's actions are too often ignored. We are left with a one-dimensional picture of a complex, richly textured country of 200 million people.  Using rigorous analysis, interviews, and a historical narrative, I fill out the picture of Pakistan's relationship with extremism.  The methodological approach is honest. I hope to convince everyone that there is hope yet for this beleaguered nation. ”   Unquote. The most noble  of human emotions is to find hope in the midst of tragedy. One of the tourists killed by the terrorists in Pahalgam, Jammu & Kashmir on April 22, 2025  was N. Ramachandran from Kerala. On her return home, his daughter, Arathy Sarath,   spoke movingly of the succour she found from two young men in the wake of her suffering. Ms Sarath said :   "Musafir and another local driver Sameer were with me all through, including when I stood outside the morgue till 3 am. They treated me like a younger sister. Kashmir has now given me two brothers.” Musafir and Sameer were entirely representative of how Kashmir, as a whole, reacted to the barbarism that claimed so many innocent lives.   Several tourists who were at the scene of the attack were shepherded to safety by their Kashmiri guides. At least one  of these guides, like others a Muslim by faith, was killed. As tourists sought to flee in panic, clerics  opened mosques to provide beds for those who did not have hotel bookings. Taxi drivers refused to charge passengers seeking to get to Srinagar airport. Madiha Afzal has used  a line curve using Pew Research Centre’s Global Attitudes Survey Data for Pakistan for the years 2002-15. Pakistani respondents were interviewed on the question : “Some people think that suicide bombing and other forms of violence against civilian targets are justified in order to defend Islam from its enemies. What is your opinion?” The below graph shows above 80%  of Pakistani nationals said these kind of brutalities were never justified. The year 2008 is very significant in the wake of 26 November terrorist attack in Mumbai !!                                                                Then, where is the problem? The average Pakistani knows that Jinnah made Pakistan in a hurry and from then on everything was lopsided. It is very unfortunate that the ruling authority of this nation has gone to the Military - the democratic gimmick is done to attract international funds – which, although, is drying out very fast. The appointed ministers and prime ministers are only sitting ducks waiting for instructions from Military. The country gets ruled by the so called “All the Generals Men.” Lashkar-e-Taiba (LeT) is one of the main anti India militant groups based in Pakistan, fighting to free Kashmir from Indian control . Jaish-e-Mohammad (JeM) is the other. These groups do   not  attack the Pakistani state or Pakistani targets; they target Indian forces in Kashmir, and government and civilian targets in India. These groups, the Kashmiri jihadists, began functioning at a heightened capacity in the 1990s;  they drew from the ranks of the mujahideen trained for the Soviet jihad once that war ended. Scholars  and analysts argue that Pakistan's spy agency, the Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI), harbours ties with and supports Lashkar-e-Taiba and Jaish-e-Mohammad and that it directed the mujahideen towards the Kashmir  cause. Though the Pakistani army denies this, it is well known in Pakistan that despite these groups being proscribed, their leaders are largely allowed by the state to carry out covert operations. We require a Vladimir Putin  to tackle this imbroglio !! But Putin’s Ukraine is not as military savvy as Pakistan’s. Gaya,1943. Meryl was immensely happy when Shane Gough arranged a tour to the Barabar caves. These caves are the oldest surviving rock cut case in India, situated on the eastern stretches of town of Gaya. The caves are placed in the twin hills of Barabar and Nagarjuni.   Shane had arranged for Rahul Singh as the safety and escorting officer for the tour, knowing Meryl was very fond of Rahul.   Except for the Barabar caves - and they were twenty miles off, the city of Gaya presented nothing extraordinary, edged rather than washed by the river Falgu, it trailed for a couple of miles along the bank scarcely distinguishable from the rubbish it deposited so freely. There were no bathing steps on the river front, as the river happened not to be holy here, indeed there were no river front, and the bazaars shut out the wide and shifting panorama of the stream. Rahul had arranged for a makeshift wash room for the ladies, twenty-five of them laughing and giggling  all the way to the banks, not a care in heaven for the extremely torrid sun on their heads. Meryl would silently study the handsome Rahul and the expert way of him to arrange things. Shane was happy she enjoyed the company of Rahul – he often led her to different sites around the cave, sometimes holding her soft hands as she slipped through rough lanes muttered with stone and silt !! The Gaya streets were mean, the temples ineffective and though a few fine houses existed they were hidden away in gardens  and down alleys whose filth deterred all but the invited guests. Gaya was never large or beautiful, but two hundred years ago it lay on the road large and beautiful, then imperial, and the river, and the fine houses date from that period. Shane had arranged an elephant ride for Meryl to the caves, she enjoyed thoroughly as Rahul was at the front taking care of the mahout and the roads that led to the mountains. It was very dark inside, the local officer had allowed a large crowd into the cave, men and women who had braved the scorching heat quickly settled into the darkness, at least the heat had to be withered away. Rahul took Meryl’s hand and led her into the pathways to the cave. Soon, they were ahead of the crowd and though the darkness instilled fear Meryl would feel comfortable and assured in Rahul’s company. Slowly she came close to Rahul and in one swift move hugged him tightly. The cave had become lonely then and Bill was outside with Shane – both were busy arranging food and niceties. Meryl would not let go of Rahul as he planted a passionate kiss on Meryl’s lips, so profound was the togetherness that time stopped there for a while as if enjoying the love both had for each other. Back to the cottage, that evening was profound in the life of Meryl. She loved India and loved Rahul dearly but was very unsure how future would behold for them. Bill had to be told of the development immediately after reaching England, Adela would have reached by now, she left early as the cancer needed immediate medical attention. The next morning Meryl found an express telegram on her table,  her mother had passed away as she could not brave the dreaded disease. Meryl was required immediately in England, the travel plans would have to be done quickly – Meryl had to reach in time for the funeral.   She moved swiftly, summoned Shane Gough and told him to arrange tickets, seeing Meryl distraught with pain and grief, Shane assured he would inform Rahul about the plans and after sometime request Rahul if he was willing to pay a visit to Meryl in England !! Meryl had to leave Rahul behind !   Maybe next time Meryl would come alone, Bill had to be on his own, almost surely, she felt, to tread a fresh path with Rahul, for a fresh journey into the soft lanes and muddy roads of her beloved India !!                                             Over time, can Rahul reach out to his dearest Meryl?                                                                                Who knows !! Disclaimer: The names Jogi, Rehmat, Lazmi, Adela, Meryl Reetherspoone, Charles Hope, Bill Dexter, Rahul Singh, Shane Gough, Mehroz Bano, Shreshta Roy, Abhimanyu Sen and Jennifer Morton are imaginary and do not hold any resemblance to any person(s) dead or alive.

Dear Reader, thank you for your immense response and love given to Lazmi Humaima Shaheen and Meryl Reetherspoone. I am presenting a   four-part   series highlighting Lazmi and Meryl and the people they loved in more detail. Written on the backdrop of India’s famed freedom movement this series will culminate in what Lazmi and Meryl finally achieved in their lives ! It was January 1948 and was bitter cold in Delhi. The three men stood in the sparsely furnished confines of Retiring Room number six of the Old Delhi railway station watching the bustle of tongas, carts, creaking buses, swarming by  in the street below . The police of India no longer had days in which to save the life of Mahatma Gandhi. They had only hours.   Godse, Apte and Karkare had just fixed in that dim railroad station room their rendezvous with history. They had chosen the hour when they would kill Mohandas Gandhi. They would assassinate the great man at five o’clock the following day. Meanwhile in a remote place of Majora in Punjab love blossomed. Joginder Singh was a handsome young man with a bane of long hair and a very pleasing face. He had killer features and all the girls in his town swooned at him. But he had set his eyes on the girl who kept to herself and gave Joginder a damn !! Lazmi  had been gone from her home about an hour. Lying on his bed, Jogi stretched out his hands over his head and behind him, groping, she dodged him. Jogi caressed her cheeks, eyes and nose that his hands knew so well. He tried to play with her lips to induce them to kiss his fingers. "Are you okay?" he whispered. He had one arm around Lazmi, clasping her to him, while the fingers of his other hand softly traced her face, probing gently, examining her. His thumb brushed her lower lip,  and his breath hitched. He was staring into her eyes, and she held his anxious, burning gaze for a moment, or maybe forever . Kiss me! Lazmi implored him. She was paralyzed with a strange, unfamiliar need, completely captivated by him. Lazmi was staring at Jogi’s mouth, mesmerized,  and he was looking down at her, his gaze hooded, his eyes darkening. He was breathing harder than usual, and she stopped breathing altogether. “  I'm in your arms. ”   He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and shook his head as if in answer to her silent question. "Jogi, what are you doing?." Lazmi got alarmed at his advances! "You know I like you Lajo." He had one hand at the fullness of her back holding her against him, the other at her chin tipping back her head. "No, Jogi, stop—no!". She pushed him, but he was a wall of hard muscle. His hand had slipped into her hair, and he was holding her head in place. His breath was soft and smelled too sweet. He gently trailed kisses along her jaw up to the side of her mouth. She felt panicky, and a heady feeling of drunkenness swept across her. She felt out of control. The feeling was suffocating. In a flash, Lazmi opened her mouth and bit him fiercely, Joginder jerked away. With a quick movement he caught her head in both his hands and brought her face over to his. Then he slipped his arms under her waist and hoisted her into the air above him with her arms and legs kicking, then he brought her down flat upon him limb to limb. The world stopped as Jogi crossed his arms behind Lazmi’s  back and squeezed her till she could not talk or breathe. Every time she started to speak, he tightened his arms around her and her words got stuck in her throat. She gave up and put her exhausted face against his. He laid her beside him with her head nestling in the hollow of his left arm. With his right hand he stoked her hair and face. His hands strayed from Lazmi’s  face to her bosoms and her waist. She caught it and put it back on her face. His breathing became slow and sensuous. He stretched his left arm that lay under her head and caught her reproving hand. Her other arm was already under him. She was defenceless. Seeing him on his knees in front of her, feeling his mouth on her, it was so unexpected, and hot. Her hands stayed in his hair, pulling gently as she tried to quiet her loud breathing. He gazed up at her through impossibly long lashes, his eyes a scorching smoky grey. Jogi’s hands reached up to undo the laces of her salwar, and  leisurely pulled down the cloth. Without taking his eyes off her, his hands moved beneath the waistband, skimming her and moving to her behind. He then glided his hands slowly down her backside to her thighs, removing her salwar on the go. She could not look away as he took off her panties. He stopped and licked his lips, never breaking eye contact, and then leaned forward, running his nose up the apex between her thighs. She felt him.                                                                                   There. In a state of frenzy, she dug her nails into his handsome puffy cheeks. The stars above her went into a mad whirl. Strands of hair washing her face, the soft breeze spattering her naked limbs, she pushed the moment away and immersed herself totally to Jogi. It was an evening of wild love making ! That night, in this little town of Majora,   five armed dacoits disembarked from a train coming from Lahore. There was no stoppage at Majora, as the train slowed the armed men silently slipped into the darkness.   It would not be before morning the train reached Delhi station. Rehmat, the leader had come to finish Joginder Singh as he had heard enough of his flirtations with his sister Lazmi. That night, Jogi was fatally wounded and Lazmi silently took her mother and left Majora for good. She was heading for Calcutta where she would find a job at the theatre for a living.                          In the summer of 1941 Jogi had vanished into the gunshots of Majora !! Lazmi vowed to come back and avenge Jogi’s death !! In the pre-Independence era Punjab and Bengal bore the largest brunt of mayhem and bloody killings. Meryl Reetherspoone, a lovely and adorable English girl, had come to India for a week’s visit along with her mother Adela, hosted by local British officer Charles Hope. While Charles, who had an eye on Meryl, offered a drink on arrival, Meryl refused and announced that she was desirous to see the real India. And meandering through discussions Miss Meryl said she avoided speaking to Indians unless they were her own servants, but amused everyone by saying I want to know India and I want to see Indians! Pre-independence India was awash with visiting English men and women – people who wanted to see first hand the health of the country they ruled and from where a large sum of money bulged the English coffers. The amount of loot  that went to the British Empire could have made India the second largest economy – if not the first, if that wealth would have stayed with Delhi and made London one of the poorest countries of the world – though poetic justice has placed Britain from where they see South Korea with an admiring eye, that Seoul  has overtaken London in GDP  is a matter of great pride for the Koreans; not to speak of today’s India – which boasts of one of the largest economies of the world; in spite of the loot !! ( Please tap www.cheekychatur.com  and read BRITAIN HAS BECOME A POOR COUNTRY NOW. THE PROS AND CONS, a tasteful find of how the modern Dorian Grays have run amok !! ) .                                      Anyway, what has not happened has not happened !! Mrs. Jennifer Morton, well known to Adela, had long been to India. A stupid British woman, Jennifer spoke without hindrance and more often than not left the audience bite the dust for her shameful utterances. You would come to know how silly she was !        When Meryl stepped to visit the place and know Indians, Jennifer was left astonished: “Wanting to see Indians? What I mean is I was a nurse before my marriage and came across Indian natives a great deal. So, I know. I really do know the truth about Indians. A most unsuitable position for any Englishwoman – in my native state one’s only hope was to hold sternly aloof. “Even from one’s patients?” Adela asked wickedly. “Why, the kindest thing one can do to a native is to let him die!!” “How if he went to Heaven?” asked Adela with a queer smile. “He can go where he likes as long as he doesn’t come near me. They give me the creeps!” That day, Apte found to his relief and surprise the entrance of Birla House posed no problem at all. The guard had been increased, but no one was searching the crowd coming in for weapons. He was relieved. Godse had made his entrance safely. Karkare and Apte walked out to the end and there they saw Nathuram mingling with the crowds. He seemed composed and in good spirits. The crowd was scattered around the lawn. At five o'clock, as the time for the prayers grew near, people began to move together. Apte and Karkare took their places on either side of Nathuram. Karkare's eyes were on Nathuram as he took the pistol from his pocket and passed it between his palms. He had decided to pay respects to the man who had rendered admirable service to his country. When Gandhi was only a few strides from him, Nathuram stepped into the corridor. He bowed slowly from the waist, and said Namaste Gandhiji, and in a flash took  out his Beretta pistol and shot Gandhi thrice. On 30 January, 1948 around 5.17 pm Mahatma Gandhi was assassinated by Nathuram Godse !! There is nothing sadder in India’s Independence than the way it traversed its way. At three minutes before midnight on 14 August 1947  the unity of the Indian subcontinent was broken. Pakistan was established as an independent, sovereign state. Exactly five minutes later India became independent. And what Pakistan got from Jinnah ! An astounding fact cropped up during Mountbatten’s last years in office – long after he left India. He came across a medical report of the doctor who treated Jinnah. The report described in detail a chest X-ray; the plate confirmed the advanced stages of tuberculosis.   In spring of 1947,  Mohammed Ali Jinnah, the inflexible Muslim leader who had quashed all of Mountbatten’s efforts to preserve India’s unity, knew he had only a few months left to live !! Lord Louis Mountbatten  was startled. " If had only known this at the time, the course of history would have been different. I would have delayed the granting of independence for several months. There would have been no Partition. ”   “Pakistan would not have existed.   India would have remained united. Three wars would have been avoided”  – an exasperated Mountbatten exclaimed ! And Gandhi ji would not have been assassinated !! There would be no Pakistan, there would be no POK, there would be no Bangladesh !! Do you think Gandhi knew that Jinnah  was going to die in a few months? Maybe not !! A bereaved Lazmi set foot in Kolkata with her mother. She was seething with anger for the injustice meted out to her beloved Jogi  and was determined to go back to Majora and kill her brother. Disclaimer: The names Joginder Singh, Rehmat, Lazmi, Adela, Meryl Reetherspoone, Charles Hope are imaginary and do not hold any resemblance to any person(s) dead or alive.

Manipur is a state   in north-east India with a population of around three million. It has been embroiled in an ethnic conflict since May 2023, fought between the majority Meitei community and the minority Kuki tribe.   India’s north-eastern states have a history of ethnic rivalries dating back to before the country became independent in AD 1947. In Manipur, violence has erupted between the Meitei and the Kuki communities several times before. The cause of such rife (?).  Tensions had been simmering between the two communities recently, driven in part by the vicious  Meitei largesse. The state government has been accused of pursuing policies that discriminated against Kukis, including forced evictions that threatened the security of their land, and through an attempt to cast them as illegal immigrants. The violence was sparked by a court ruling in March 2023 that granted the majority Meitei scheduled tribe status,   entitling them to the same economic benefits and quotas in government jobs and education as the minority Kuki. It also allowed Meiteis to buy land in the hills, where the Kukis predominately live, further fuelling fears that their lands, jobs and opportunities would be taken away. This prompted protests, mostly by Kuki student groups, which were met with violence and by early May, it had escalated into a full-blown civil disruption. So far, more than 260 people have died, almost equal number of people wounded in the violence and more than 60,000 have been displaced. It has become a state concern to bring the violence under control. We want a separate state. The clashes have strengthened a longstanding demand by the Kukis for their own separate state. Kuki groups say the violence has proved they can no longer live safely under the oppressions of a Meitei-dominant state and have pledged they will not stop fighting until their own state is granted. The Meitei community and the state government fiercely oppose the creation of a separate Kuki state.                                                      "Everything is destroyed, there is nothing left.”     Sitting in a corner of a makeshift relief camp in Imphal's Pangei area, Basanta Singh tries hard to hold back tears  as he talks.   Singh, along with his wife and two children, had to run for their lives from the Saikul area in India's northeastern state of Manipur when ethnic clashes erupted.   Singh belongs to the Meitei community and had been living in the hilly Saikul area - largely inhabited by the indigenous Kuki community - for over two decades. He ran a grocery store there. When clashes began, he was advised by his Kuki friends to move out to a safer place. “We have lived there for so long. We were on good terms with the Kuki people there”, he says. The goodwill Singh thought he shared with the Kuki community did not prevent his shop from being looted by the mob.                                                   ''' I had no option but to run. This is a civil war. ”   The history of the Kukis, the Nagas and the Meiteis. History says the Kukis and the Meiteis originated from the land Zomia –   a huge massif of mainland Southeast Asia running from the Central Highlands of Vietnam westward all the way to northeastern India and including the southwest Chinese province of Yunnan, Guizhou and western Guangxi. It is beautifully explained in the eponymous book on the history of highland people The Art of Not Being Governed : An Anarchist History of Upland Southeast Asia by James C. Scott   from the Yale Agrarian Studies Series.   Professor Scott explains, for two thousand years the disparate groups that now reside in Zomia have fled the projects of the organised state societies that surround them – slavery, conscription, taxes, corvee labour, epidemics and warfare. They were hounded by a very unfriendly environment, each day uncertain not knowing whether they would live the day or die !   It is estimated that around 1500 AD there were frequent military intrusions against hill people under the Ming and Qing dynasties  culminating in the unprecedented uprisings in southwestern China in the mid nineteenth century that left millions seeking refuge towards south of southwest China. In effect, Zomia, Professor Scott contends, has been peopled by runaways from several state-making projects in the valleys, most particularly Han state making projects; bound in the hills they acquired and shifted their ethnic identities to stave off further brutalities. Far from being remnants left behind by civilizing societies, they happened to be, Scott writes, as it were   barbarians by choice, people who have deliberately put distance between themselves and lowland, state centres and other social structures.   The atrocities of Ming and Qing were the fuelling factors. The Ming  (AD 1368-1644) and Qing  (AD 1644-1911) dynasties resorted to mass killings, beheadings and other forms of brutalities that   compelled large demographic shift from South west China towards the states of Manipur, Nagaland, Assam, Meghalaya, Tripura and Mizoram further squeezing towards Bangladesh and Myanmar.   Beheadings (!).   In the Taiping capture of Nanjing in AD 1853 the Qing  governor general conducted mass execution of tens of thousands of suspected rebel sympathisers with 63 beheadings in a  four-minute span !!   Woeful lives of Chinese Christians . In celebrated instances, the demonizing process was turned against foreign missionaries in the so-called Tianjin massacre of AD 1870, the series of violent anti-foreign crowd actions in the Yangzi valley in the early 1890s, and murders of Chinese Christian converts during the Boxer uprising of AD 1900. The terrorised population, who were able to flee, settled as tribals in the hills and plains of Manipur, Nagaland, Assam, Meghalaya, Tripura, Mizoram, Bangladesh and Myanmar. During those early settlements population thrived on different cultural existence, some came down to the plains and others settled in the hills with a belief that as early as AD 1900 they grouped as tribals and with time the tribes were separated as Meiteis and Kukis – the latter naturally being the Chinese Christians surviving the Qing and Ming onslaughts.   The plains were filled early as the flow of mass to the plains were much more and from much early periods than the Chinese Christians who were wandering tribes taking time to settle  in the hills of Manipur. Is there a Chinese hand in Manipur violence(?). Chief of Defence Staff (CDS)   Anil Chauhan says yes . He says Manipur had armed forces deployed for counter insurgency operations since 2020 AD  but much of the force had been re-deployed in northern India and almost 25,000- armed force from Assam Rifles were taken away from Manipur area since the insurgency situation normalised. “There you have it, the elephant in the room. It is China. This is one major strand in the Chinese connection to Manipur. Because of China’s aggressive land grabbing activities in the border areas in the North there has been a security vacuum in Manipur which did not go unnoticed in Beijing.” And Myanmar(?). China had been goading Myanmar into such violence and much of the militant forces have been infiltrating through Myanmar and seeing the easy border it has with Manipur  (map above) the militancy has been on the rise due to Myanmar giving safe haven to the militants in Manipur. Myanmar and China are hand in glove.   But why(?). The relations between Myanmar and China have been a roller coaster ever since Myanmar became one of the first non-communist countries to recognize the People’s Republic of China in AD 1949.  But things began to change in the late 1980s  when Myanmar faced increased western-led economic sanctions after a coup in AD 1988 and shortly after it, Myanmar introduced a number of economic reforms. It was under these conditions that the China–Myanmar relations started gaining momentum.     In terms of bilateral trade, China is the largest trading partner of Myanmar. It occupies the largest share in both imports and exports of Myanmar. According to data from 2019, the bilateral trade stands at about USD 12 billion  out of the approximately USD 36 billion trade it conducts in total. In 2019, China occupied a 32% share in its exports and a 35% share in its imports far ahead of any other country   including   India which doesn’t even break into the top 5  in either category despite sharing a lengthy land border. Since 2001 AD, Myanmar imports its largest share of goods from China, mainly machinery, metal products, vehicles, and telecommunication equipments (illustration above). In Myanmar’s exports to China, there are some goods which are important to China. For instance, refined tin that China imports from Myanmar is used for circuit-board soldering.  30-35%  of the overall tin concentrate required to produce refined tin comes from Myanmar despite China having the largest tin resources in the world (?).   Similar is the case of rare earth metals, which is a group of 17 minerals used in manufacturing consumer electronics and military equipment. Myanmar accounts for around  13%   of the global production and more than half of China’s domestic supplies.  The majority of the exports to China, though, consists of oil and gas which make up around 32% of exports to China.   So, it is not solely an Indian problem, it is an India-China-Myanmar problem. If you look closely and, in more detail, than listen to what the newspapers and TV channels are blabbering, it is China doing a Pakistan   and it has been, for long, Beijing’s norm to annoy India by all means. But it is never going to happen just like that.  Like the achievements of Chandrayaan-3   cannot be replicated by the Chinese-Russian   effort to place Luna-25 on the moon, just like the enormously popular G-20 summit in Kashmir flourishing in spite of Chinese rumblings, just like India grabbing the demographic sweet spot overthrowing a growling China. After the Manipur chief minister announced a war on drugs, his wife was accused of having connections to an alleged drug lord from the Kuki-Zo community. The claim came from no less than the Additional Superintendent of Police (ASP) in the Narcotics and Affairs of Border Bureau, Thounaojam Brinda (picture below), who later resigned.   In an explosive affidavit to the Manipur High Court, IPS   Brinda  accused the Chief Minister of pressuring her to drop the case against an alleged “drug kingpin”,  a leader and former head of Autonomous District Council (ADC), Lhukhosei Zou. Brinda,   in the affidavit said she had received a call from then vice president of the Manipur working party, Asnikumar Moirangthem, a Meitei,   on the morning after a raid at Zou’s quarters, which reportedly had yielded 5 kg  (10 pounds) of heroin powder and 280,000   Yaba  (methamphetamine) tablets.   It was learnt that the arrested ADC chairman turned out to be CM’s second wife Olice’s right-hand man in Chandel and that Olice was furious about the arrest, she wrote in the affidavit and added :   “The CM had ordered that the arrested ADC chairman be exchanged with his wife or son and to release him.” Zou, who had jumped bail, was let go of all charges. All those named by Brinda in her affidavit have denied their role in the drug trade before the courts and in public statements, and none have been convicted  of any offences. Manipur sits adjacent  to the infamous Golden Triangle,   an area in Southeast Asia covering civil war-torn Myanmar ( diagram below ). The United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) defines the region as one of the biggest drug trafficking corridors in the world . Heroin, opium and synthetic drugs like methamphetamine from the region are feeding the whole of the Asia Pacific region , the UN affirmed. Lieutenant General Konsam Himalay Singh, a Meitei, who retired in 2017 shouted in an annoying  tone - “the spillover of the drug trade into Manipur has been downright frustrating. This trade had caught up in Manipur in the last 15 years. The US, other Western countries and the United Nations had started keeping a strict vigil on the Golden Triangle but the results have not been satisfactory.   The operatives of the Golden Triangle extended towards the West into Manipur. It was accelerated by the armed groups who found easy money.” He was referring to the array of armed rebel groups of different ethnicities, including the Kuki and Meitei fighters, that proliferated in Manipur and were involved in the drug trade across the porous borders with Myanmar. What the stars foretell. In a long overdue decision, the Chief Minister of Manipur was asked to resign  on  February 9, 2025. It was reportedly under duress due to growing dissidence within the ruling Party government. The top Court of India had recently sought the services of the Central Forensic Science Laboratory   to provide a sealed-cover report  on leaked audio tapes that it is examining, allegedly featuring the Chief Minister as an instigator of the ethnic conflict   that has raged for more than a year between two communities. His continuation was long made untenable with the ethnic conflict having shown few signs of abating, and him being seen as championing the cause of chauvinists from one group. The axe came too late   as the ruling party had lost momentum, and the fatigue in the valley and hill regions with the state government was clearly coming out in the open. The rhetoric about the Kuki-Zo-Hmar communities, persistently being accused of being infiltrators  from Myanmar and providing a haven to drug dealers  and illicit crop cultivators, fuelled the antipathy on both sides of the conflict, resulting in violent groups openly brandishing sophisticated weapons — many looted from police armouries. Arrival of a new dawn. The government is accelerating the process of involving civil society leaders in talks, taking up immediate issues such as the rehabilitation and return of over 60,000 displaced people. This will lay the ground for a political solution and address grievances in the hills and the valley. There are enough instruments in India’s federal system that allow for creative solutions within the state. Confidence-building measures and an end to wanton violence are a necessity and CM’s resignation should pave the way for more measures for a quick recovery. Quaintly put, leaving everything aside, our children deserve to lead a beautiful life !!

The Chinese AI startup DeepSeek  caught a lot of people by surprise lately. Its new model, released on January 20, 2025, competes with models from leading American AI (Artificial Intelligence) companies such as OpenAI and Meta despite being smaller, more efficient and much cheaper to both train and run.   The furore over   DeepSeek  could likely have been predicted by the much talked about and widely accepted management theory — the theory of disruptive innovation. After all, disruptive innovation is all about low-cost alternatives that aren’t cutting-edge but perform adequately for many users. This, it seems, is exactly how DeepSeek  has created the shockwave  that has challenged some of the assumptions of the American AI industry and sent tech and energy stocks tumbling as a result. In Alphabet  Incorporated, the parent company of Google,  stocks plunged by more than 8% recently, marking the greatest percentage fall since October 2023. The decline, for Google parent Alphabet, erased as much as USD 211 billion in market value. According to reports, the decrease is the company's biggest one-day value decline. In midday trading, Alphabet shares finished at USD 193, down 7.6% at USD 190.70. Chipmaking giant Nvidia  had a similar outcome, after the release of China's ground-breaking AI model DeepSeek R1 - which completely turned the AI industry on its head. Nobel laureate Demis Hassabis , the head of Google’s AI research lab DeepMind,  argued that DeepSeek misled people by reporting it was made at a fraction of the cost of Google’s DeepMind and OpenAI.   In an interview Hassabis, who oversees Google’s AI division, explained that the Chinese start-up "only reported the cost of the final training round, which is just a small part of the total cost." DeepSeek claimed to have spent USD 5.6 million on computing costs to train its model using older Nvidia chips.  The key to   DeepSeek’s  working is Test Time Compute. Test time compute operates through two powerful mechanisms that fundamentally change how language models approach problem-solving. The first mechanism involves refining the proposal distribution, where models iteratively  improve their answers through guided self-revision. During this process, the model generates a sequence of revisions, with each attempt building on insights from previous ones. This sequential approach is particularly effective when the base model has a reasonable initial understanding but needs refinement to reach the correct answer. Research has shown that by allowing models to dynamically modify their output distribution based on previous attempts, they can achieve improvements up to 4 times in efficiency compared to standard parallel sampling approaches. The second key mechanism focuses on optimizing verifier search through Process Reward Models (PRMs). Unlike traditional output verification that only judges final answers, PRMs evaluate the correctness of each intermediate step in a solution. These dense, step-wise reward signals enable sophisticated tree search algorithms  like beam search and lookahead search to explore multiple solution paths simultaneously. The effectiveness of these search strategies varies with problem difficulty – beam search, which maintains multiple candidate solutions at each step, often outperforms simpler approaches on harder problems but can lead to over-optimization on easier ones. Meanwhile, lookahead search, which simulates future steps to evaluate current decisions, helps prevent the model from getting stuck in local optima but requires more computational resources.                              The combination of these mechanisms creates a powerful synergy. While refining the proposal distribution helps the model generate better initial solutions, the verifier search ensures these improvements are systematic and well-directed. The ideal balance  between these approaches depends critically on the problem's difficulty level. For easier problems, putting more emphasis on sequential revisions often yields better results, while harder problems benefit from more extensive verifier-guided search. Advanced implementations can dynamically adjust this balance based on the model's confidence and early performance indicators. For  DeepSeek, it has been found that the   algorithms explode during distillation to arrive at the right, extremely precise solutions !! For Lian Wenfeng (below), the founder of DeepSeek, it has been a matter of redemption. He first made his mark in China’s investment world in the late 2010s, co-founding a hedge fund that used artificial intelligence models. In 2023 he poured money into A rtificial Intelligence and assembled a team to build China’s answer to Silicon Valley frontrunner OpenAI. His 2010 thesis at Zhejiang University took on a topic of interest – Improving intelligent tracking algorithms for surveillance cameras. He took off from there. “Providing cloud services is not our main goal. Our aim is still to achieve AGI  (Artificial General Intelligence – AGI is a type of AI that possesses broad cognitive abilities similar to humans, capable of learning and performing a wide range of tasks across different domains, whereas the present other AIs usually specialize in one area ). Everyone has their own unique journey and brings their own ideas with them. There is no need for a push” – commented Wenfeng when asked if DeepSeek  were extracting codes from OpenAI. This has furiously  unsettled the workings of the industry bigwigs. Microsoft and OpenAI are investigating whether DeepSeek  has used OpenAI’s API to integrate OpenAI’s artificial intelligence model into DeepSeek’s  own model (API - Application Programming Interface – is a way for two systems to communicate with each other. APIs  are used to share data and access resources). OpenAI  has found evidence linking DeepSeek to the use of distillation  – a technique that developers use to train AI models by extracting data from larger, more accomplished ones. This is an efficient way to train smaller models at a very low cost. Using OpenAI’s  API to distil the outputs to build rival models is a violation  of OpenAI’s terms of service. What is Artificial Intelligence(?). According to the father of Artificial Intelligence John McCarthy, it is the science and engineering of making intelligent machines, especially intelligent computer programmes.   Artificial Intelligence is a way of making a computer, a computer-controlled robot, or a software which thinks intelligently in the same manner the intelligent humans think.   AIs are skilled to find out how human brain thinks, how humans learn, decide, and work while trying to solve a problem and then use these outcomes to frame the basis of i ntelligent softwares and systems. Gert-Jan Oskam is a brilliant example (!). Oskam (picture below)   had been paralyzed at his legs for more than a decade. It happened after he suffered a spinal cord injury  during a bicycle accident. Thanks to artificial intelligence technology, he can now walk naturally, take on difficult terrain and even climb stairs - a freedom that he did not have before. How it all happened. The path breaking research on AI  combined the spinal implant with the new technology called brain-computer interface. This was implanted above the part of the brain that controlled leg movement. The interface had the ability to decode brain recordings in real time. That allowed the interface designed by researchers at France's Atomic Energy Commission (CEA) to work out how the patient wanted to move his legs at any moment in real time.   The modus operandi. Uninjured nerves send signals to muscles. Those signals make muscles move. When humans are paralyzed, or have paralysis, they can’t  move certain parts of their body. There is a problem with the   nervous system   in the body’s command and communication system. Normally the nervous system sends signals from the brain throughout the body, telling what to do. If something damages the nervous system, messages can’t get through to muscles. When   AI was introduced into the system of Oskam it created Artificial Neural Networks (ANNs) to help him. Who invented Artificial Neural Network – the veritable life saver(?).  The inventor of the first neurocomputer, Dr. Robert Hecht-Nielsen, defines a neural network as a computing system made up of a number of simple, interconnected processing elements, which process information by their dynamic response to external inputs. Artificial Neural Networks (ANNs) have the ability to think, re-think and improve upon the responses it has already created based on the external factors!! It will go on changing and improving the network to yield optimum results. The logic of ANN  is based on the belief that working of human brain can be understood by making the right connections and can be imitated using silicon and wires as living neurons and dendrites. The human brain is composed of 100 billion nerve cells called neurons.   They are connected to other thousand cells by   axons (picture above). Stimuli from external environment or inputs from sensory organs are accepted by dendrites. These inputs create electric impulses which quickly travel through the neural networks. A neuron can then send (or does not send) the message to other neuron to handle the issue at hand.                               So, ANN as such, is not at all a bad idea. Its wrongful usage is !! The tragedy of DeepSeek is that it is on a price war with OpenAI. DeepSeek  is offering the same, or rather better, services at a hugely reduced price . Since it is an open-source platform any user can use it whereas in OpenAI platform the services are to be bought at a ridiculously high price. DeepSeek has done nothing  to enhance the usability of medical research – especially in the area of cancer treatment. Using artificial neural networks we can actually reverse the onset of cancer by altering the chromosome structure in a human DNA. Take this brilliant example. We know that every human possesses 23 pairs of chromosomes that are foundations of our DNA  curled in a double helix structure. The amusing demeanour of 22nd chromosome(!). It is one of the smallest and arguably one of the most  widely discussed of all human chromosomes. In case of blood cancer (leukaemia) the 22nd  chromosome breaks away and curls towards the 9th chromosome and sits with the 9th! The DNA structure gets disturbed and the sitting point gets weak. This creates enough ground for the enzymes to attack the point which leads to profuse multiplication of white blood cells in the bone marrow. This new chromosome is called Philadelphia chromosome and it contains the fused gene BCR-ABL. This gene is the ABL gene of   chromosome 9   juxtaposed onto the breakpoint cluster region of BCR gene of chromosome 22. This fusion creates the hybrid protein tyrosine kinase  – often termed as the brutal protein – the cause of cancer. Artificial Neural Networks can play a big role to stem the rot . Every human being does not suffer from cancer. The breakage of chromosome 22 and 9 happens when in specific cases the area of chromosome 9 is by nature weak for a target cancer human (nicknamed Ollie, let us assume) as compared to another human (nicknamed Pepe) whose chromosome 9 is relatively stronger in the DNA structure.                                                         What Ollie can do and how ANN can help? Ollie can deposit regular DNA samples to a Lab where it is fed to an AI controlled ANN system and the neural computer can actually predict the probability of Ollie’s 9th  getting raided by the 22nd . The degree of probability ( 45% or 90% ) will help the doctor to start medication even before cancer has stepped in by prescribing medicines which would stop chromosome 22  to sit alongside 9  and create that brutal protein, spelling doom.  So all of artificial intelligence (ANNs) is not bad, but the arrogant stance of DeepSeek   is disappointing! There are concerns. Advancements in AI for lethal weapon development can cause many unfortunate situations. Battles and wars would be more menacing and human mortality would increase manifold. Humans would be plucked off from real world. We might as well live in a bubble, in a virtual world surrounded by machines and artilleries never knowing who would my next neighbour be and how I work to survive in my own bubble. Machines would be taking lot of human jobs. Many of the human jobs would be taken over by robots. Human creativity  would be at its lowest. The man-machine friendship would die and one would not be surprised if robots created by humans start annihilating humans. Sam Altman, CEO of Open AI   and creator of ChatGPT   is optimistic when he says AI will create new jobs but some old ones may die fast. By the year 2119, future will be way different than we can see and imagine currently. With such great advancements in technology - automated cars, space travels and what not it would be interesting to note how humanity  would respond under these troubled circumstances. Constantly interacting with machines would make us machines(?), how our children would adapt – they would have fewer interactions with educators and classmates, there are instances of young people becoming violent under the influence of excruciatingly painful contents,  whether marriages would be between two machines(?). Will humans would still be humble and polite or be cruel and ravenous?                                                                       It is a basket of worries !! Time will tell if the future of our children is dark or bright. It would depend on how we handle AI . After all, there is a bright side to every dark one ! On the contrary, times ahead could be much better than what we have now, the times we never imagined would come to us!! Disclaimer: The names Ollie and Pepe are imaginary and do not resemble any person(s) dead or alive.

Within his homeland, Winston Churchill’s colossal contribution to saving his people from Hitler eclipses all else, and he is widely regarded as the greatest  Briton of all time. So it came as something of a surprise when a senior Labor Party politician described  him as a villain  for having ordered troops to fire on striking workers in the Welsh town of Tonypandy  in 1910. Outside the United Kingdom, Churchill has always had a decidedly mixed reputation. This was especially so in India, where his undying opposition to freedom for Indians was both well-known and widely deplored. As was his hatred for Mahatma Gandhi, a figure he mocked,  calling   him  a malignant subversive fanatic and a seditious Middle Temple lawyer, now posing as a fakir  of a type well known in the East, striding half-naked up the steps of the Viceregal palace. Winston Churchill was closely connected with India from 1896 until 1947 when India finally achieved independence. No other British statesman had such a long association with the sub-continent or sought to influence its politics in such a sustained and harmful manner. Churchill consistently sought to sabotage moves towards any degree of independence and for five years led opposition to the Government of India Act, crippling the legislation before its passage in 1935.    In 1939 he congratulated himself that he had created a three - legged stool on which Britain could sit indefinitely. As Prime Minister during the Second World War Churchill worked behind the scenes to frustrate the freedom struggle, delaying India’s Independence by a decade. To this day he is regarded as the archetypical imperialist villain, held personally responsible for the Bengal Famine. This is Churchill at his malign, cruel, obstructive and selfish worst. But the same man was outstandingly liberal at the Colonial Office, generous to the Boers and the Irish, to the detriment of his career. He later rushed colonies in the Middle East towards Independence.                                                So why was he so strangely hostile towards India ?   Winston Churchill was a British statesman, soldier, who served as Prime Minister of United Kingdom, from 1940 to 1945 during the Second World War and again from 1951 to 1955. Apart from two years between 1922 and 1924, he was a Member of Parliament (MP) from 1900 to 1964 and represented a total of five constituencies. Ideologically an adherent to economic liberalism he was for most of his career a member of the Conservative Party which he led from 1940 to 1955. He was a member of the Liberal Party  from 1904 to 1924. At the same time when Churchill was earning his stripes a young Gandhi  (picture below) was travelling to Pretoria, South Africa, for a legal case on the cold night of June 7, 1893, when a white man objected to his presence in a first-class carriage. Gandhi, naturally, refused to move since he had a valid first-class ticket. The train had reached Pietermaritzburg by then, and Gandhi was unceremoniously thrown from his carriage onto the platform. The waiting room where he spent the night is today peppered  with posters and a computer kiosk presentation that recounts the incident in great detail. “ It was winter, and winter in the higher regions of South Africa is severely cold. Maritzburg being at a high altitude, the cold was extremely bitter. My overcoat was in my luggage, but I did not dare to ask for it lest I should be insulted again, so I sat and shivered.  I began to think of my duty. The hardship to which I was subjected was superficial, only a symptom of the deep disease of color prejudice.”   It was a long night for Gandhi, one that would make him think about the situation back in India and mull over what he could do about it. “ I was born in India but was made in South Africa.”  It has been 130 years since that night, but the statue and the waiting room in Pietermaritzburg   leave Indians teary - eyed to this day. Gandhi came to India to fight against British imperialism but the burning urge to free India came from his deep despise for white people manning the swathes of Indian citizens always telling them that they are a colored race and are fit to be ruled. India’s apartheid was as despicable as that of the South Africa’s. There ran a story -  that was commonly told in Britain -  that the colonization of India - as horrible as it may have been – was not of any major economic benefit to Britain itself. If anything, the administration of India was a cost to Britain. So, the fact that the empire was sustained for so long was a gesture of Britain’s benevolence.                                                                               Wrong !! Research published by Columbia University Press deals a crushing blow to this narrative. Drawing on nearly two centuries of detailed data on tax and trade, it was calculated that Britain drained a total of nearly USD 45 trillion from India during the period 1765 to 1938. The people must know this brutal reality - that USD 45 trillion is 14 times more than the total annual gross domestic product (GDP) of the United Kingdom today !! The East India Company began collecting taxes in India, and then cleverly used a portion of those revenues (about a third)   to fund the purchase of Indian goods for British use. In other words, instead of paying for Indian goods out of their own pocket, British traders acquired them for free, buying from peasants and weavers using money that had just been taken from them. While Churchill was a gregarious character Gandhi, by contrast, was a mild-mannered, shy man. If his contemporaries in his younger days had been asked to pick out who among them was most likely to take on the might of the British Empire and win, none would have picked out the reedy, scholarly boy who eschewed friendship for books.   Born into a family in the state of Porbandar, Gandhi rose above his humble origins to study law in London  – the beating heart of the empire. After a brief stint back in India, he would set sail for a corner of the empire where he would see with his own eyes what his so-called fellow citizens really thought of people like him, and it was the treatment he received there that would turn from humble servant of empire to the father of his nation.   Gandhi’s time in South Africa had shaped a very different man. By the time he left for India in 1915, gone was the mild-mannered lawyer of old. In his place was a respected political activist, avowed nationalist and seasoned campaigner. He joined the Indian National Congress, India’s leading pro-independence political party. By 1920 he was leading the party and ramping up his demands for an independent India. This culminated in the Indian National Congress declaring independence in 1930.   Unsurprisingly, this declaration was not recognized by the British authorities, but it did bring them to the negotiating table. It also brought the Congress leader into the firing line of Winston Churchill, who was languishing on the back benches after the Tories lost the 1929 general election.   Between 1929 and 1939, Churchill’s irritation and hostility towards Gandhi grew. Believing the breakup of empire could lead to catastrophic effects, Churchill was furious that Gandhi’s peaceful direct actions against the British authorities such as the famous Salt March of 1929  were gaining traction   with the Indian public.   From the back benches of the House of Commons, Churchill began to issue dark and terrible warnings about Gandhi. As the 1930’s rolled on, Churchill’s obsession with Gandhi caused many of his colleagues to wonder if he was losing his mind.   In 1931, Gandhi was among the delegates at the First Roundtable Conference to discuss a way forward for India. It did not matter if Churchill was up for it!! “It is alarming and also nauseating to see Mr. Gandhi, a seditious Middle Temple lawyer, now posing as a fakir of a type well known in the East, striding half-naked up the steps of the Vice-regal palace, to parley on equal terms with the representative of the King Emperor,” he muttered.   Upon returning to India after a second roundtable conference in Britain, Gandhi was arrested and imprisoned after beginning a second Salt March.   While he was in prison, the British government announced its intention to introduce a new electoral reform that would have created separate electorates based on their religion and class. Incensed at this attempt to change the secular nature of the Indian election system, Gandhi announced he would fast until he died in protest at the law.   “Gandhi should not be released on the account of a mere threat of fasting,” was Churchill’s response.                        “ It would be good riddance of a bad man, and an enemy of the Empire.” Churchill’s  frequent denunciations of Gandhi led him to become popular with the far right of British politics, which did him no favors with his more liberal-minded colleagues.   His fetish for Gandhi  did not end when he became prime minister in 1940. Gandhi opposed sending troops to fight for the empire, which Winston took it as an affront  to his office. Flames erupted between the two men in 1942 when Gandhi launched his Quit India   campaign.   In an impassioned speech in Bombay, Gandhi reasoned that India should not be fighting a war for freedom when the nation was not free itself. He demanded immediate independence and called on all Indians to stop  cooperating with their British rulers. Churchill was incensed, and Gandhi was again thrown  in prison along with the other members of the Congress Working Committee who had organized the Quit India   rally. The blame for the violence that erupted after Gandhi’s arrest was placed firmly on his shoulders by the British.   Gandhi was outraged and began another fast in protest. Churchill did not believe he was fasting at all and roped in India’s viceroy, Lord Linlithgow, to try and prove it. Convinced Gandhi was secretly taking glucose tablets to keep himself alive, he egged on Linlithgow  to spy on Gandhi   to catch him out. No evidence of secret glucose consumption was ever unearthed, but Churchill was having none of it.   Three years after Gandhi’s death, Churchill was still pushing the lie, this time in print.   “ It was certain, at an early stage, that he was being fed with glucose whenever he drank water, and this, as well as his own intense vitality and lifelong austerity, enabled this frail being to maintain his prolonged  abstention from any visible form of food.” What a preposterous moron he was !!   The full text could be found in the third volume of his war memoirs, The Hinge of Fate.   A year later, Churchill was shown the door at the 1945 general election despite the Allies’ victory in Europe. The new Labor government and a nation exhausted after nearly six years of war had better  things to think about than keeping hold of India. Churchill was halted at his doorstep!   Gandhi’s dream was for a united, independent India run along secular lines where the country’s predominantly Hindu and Muslim population would live side by side as they had for centuries. Unfortunately, the balance of power during the independence negotiations had shifted in favor of the pro-partition Muslim League, headed by Muhammad Ali Jinnah.   Jinnah wanted to see India divided along religious lines, and he got his wish when the British partitioned the country into India and Pakistan  on 15th of August 1947, much to Gandhi’s dismay. For Gandhi Independence Day held a different meaning – he would spend the Day calling for peace!   Five months after independence, he was assassinated on the 30th of January 1948. As tributes poured in from across the world, one man kept silent – Winston Churchill.   In the end, neither man got his wish. Gandhi’s dream of a united, secular, independent India never came to fruition. By the time Churchill died on the 24th of January 1965, almost seventeen years to the day after his nemesis, the sun had already set on large swathes of his beloved British Empire.   Churchill and Gandhi met once, in November 1906.  The Englishman was then the undersecretary of state for the colonies; the Indian, a spokesman for the rights of his countrymen in South Africa. Back then, Gandhi wore a suit,  as befitting a lawyer trained in London. It was not clear whether Churchill remembered  their meeting when, in the early 1930’s, he began attacking Gandhi,  whose  Salt March   had made waves around the world and established him as the preeminent leader of India’s struggle for freedom from British rule. Not everything was hatred and betrayal. India also tasted love  in those tumultuous days. Lazmi was a beautiful girl when she fell for Jogi, a Punjabi  peasant. When Jogi was killed by dacoits she came to Calcutta with her mother. Her friend, Abhimanyu (Abhi) supported her with finding a house and a respectable job !! Lazmi, with Abhi’s help got, almost immediately a job at Lahore Talkies, Calcutta, helping technicians to fix the sets before a take. Abhi was happy for her as both grew affectionate towards each other, Lazmi often brought lunch for Abhi and he loitered with her in spare time. Things took a turn when Saifuddin Khan, or Khan Saheb, or Saifu,  spotted Lazmi in one of his visits to Lahore Talkies. Saifu was the Producer at Roy Talkies – a business house much bigger than Lahore Talkies and Khan Saheb had enough money power to produce at least two films a month. Lazmi was offered a dance role in one of Saifu’s films with a condition that she had to make an impromptu dance sequence of her own in one of Saifu’s many lavish parties !! And she did dance to the amusement of the large crowd that night. Lazmi was in,  as a dancer in Saifuddin Khan’s next film. Over time she slowly kept Abhi aside as he was only an assistant to cameraman and Saifu had catapulted her to a rising star  of Roy Talkies. She did not shed a tear when her friend, Sheila,   told her that Abhi had lost his job at Lahore Talkies, Saifu did not like Abhi and now he was back to being out of employment. Lazmi was reluctant to give Abhi a hand in his time of distress !! Saifu was head over heels in love with her and she took it as an opportunity to further her career. Saifu was married with two children but how such triviality did matter to Saifu, he was besotted with Lazmi. Between Gandhi and Nehru, a fascinating father-son relation blossomed, animated by all the tensions, affections and repressed guilt such a relationship implied. All his life, Nehru had an instinctive need for a dominant personality near him,  some steadying influence to whom he could turn in the crises engendered by his volatile nature. His father, a bluff, jovial barrister with a penchant for good Scotch and Bordeaux, had first filled that role. Since his death, it had been Gandhi. Nehru's devotion to Gandhi remained total, but a subtle  change was overtaking their relationship. A phase in Nehru's life was drawing to a close. The son was ready to leave his father's house for the new world he saw beyond its gates.  In that new world, he would need a new guru, a guru more sensitive to the complex problems that would assail him there. Although he was perhaps unaware of it as he sat in the Viceroy's study that March afternoon, a vacuum had opened in the psyche  of Jawaharlal Nehru. Nehru dreamed of an India, freed alike of the shackles of poverty and of superstition, unburdened of capitalism, an India in which the smoke stacks of factories reached out from her cities, an India enjoying the plenitude of that Industrial Revolution to which her colonizers had denied her access. No one might have seemed a more unlikely candidate to lead India towards that vision than Jawaharlal Nehru. Under the cotton khadi he wore in deference to the dictates of Congress, he remained the quintessential English gentleman. In a land of mystics, he was a cool rationalist. The mind that had exulted in the discovery of science at Cambridge never ceased to be appalled by his fellow Indians who refused to stir from their homes on days the sadhus  forbade them to. He was a publicly declared agnostic  in the most intensely spiritual area in the world, and he never ceased to proclaim the horror the word religion  inspired in him. Nehru despised  India's priests, its sadhus, its chanting monks and pious sheikhs. They had only served, he felt, to impede the nation’s progress, deepen its divisions and ease the task of her foreign rulers. And yet, the India of those sadhus and superstition-haunted masses had accepted Nehru for thirty years as he had travelled across India haranguing the multitudes. Clinging to the roofs and sides of tramways to escape the slums of India's cities, on foot and by bullock cart in the country sides, his countrymen had come by the hundreds of thousands to see and hear him.  Many in those crowds could not hear his words nor understand them when they did. For them, it had been enough however just to see, over the ocean of heads around them, his frail and gesticulating silhouette. They had taken darshan, a kind of spiritual communion received from being in the presence of a great man and that had sufficed. He was a superb orator and writer, a man who treasured words as a courtesan jewels. Anointed early by Gandhi,  he had advanced steadily through the ranks of Congress eventually to preside over it three times. The Mahatma had made it clear that it was on his shoulders that he wished his mantle to fall. For Nehru, Gandhi was a genius. But, surprisingly, Nehru's cool, pragmatic mind had rejected  almost all of Gandhi's great moves: civil disobedience, the Salt March, Quit India and many more!                                                                            But why(?). In spite of all these tribulations  and in many ways, Nehru’s heart had told him to follow the Mahatma and he, would later admit, had been right. Gandhi had been, in a sense, Nehru's guru.  It was he who had re-Indianized Nehru, sending him into the villages to find the real face of his homeland, to let the fingers of his soul touch India's sufferings. Whenever the two men were in the same place, Nehru would spend at least half an hour sitting at Bapuji's' feet, sometimes talking, sometimes listening, sometimes just looking and thinking. Those were, for Nehru , moments of intense spiritual satisfaction, perhaps the closest brush his atheist’s heart would ever had with religion. Abhi  was pained at what Lazmi did to her,   in fact it still did not go down with him that she was in Saifu’s arms – how did he not recognise such a licentious woman eager to splay   for money, how could she be so indecent and lewd hurling Abhi out of the window in a flash not knowing that corrupt Saifu would milk every inch of her skin and would throw her away !! Shreshta, the next-door neighbour of Abhi, was right about Lazmi, when she assessed her as an opportunist swimming with the tide to make money. That day Abhi realised the worth Shreshta had in his life, how so different she was from the wine gulping and cigar smoking Lazmi !! Abhi decided to marry Shreshta at the first opportune moment, immediately after getting a fresh job, his father would be very happy to have Shreshta at the Family. As soon as Abhi got a job at Roy Talkies as a waiter he married Shreshta Roy – it did not matter to him a bit that Lazmi was working at the same studio - she was an actress  now! Life had taken a brutal turn for Abhi and he would reminisce his early days, the long walks with Lazmi, the happy lunch time together at Lahore Talkies, the friendly staff there always pushing them as a lovely pair and above all, the togetherness Lazmi showed. Was it all unreal?                                           You will later learn that Lazmi always loved Abhi !! Churchill made disparaging remarks about Indians, was it driven by color, one would never know but the future beheld very unkindly to Winston as modern England loathed him as a racist and all the good work he so studiously gained and reputation nurtured went down the drain. In his view, India was not ready for home rule because he believed that the Brahmins would gain control and further oppress both the untouchables and the religious minorities. In March 1931, when riots broke out in Cawnpore (now Kanpur) between Hindus and Muslims, he claimed that the situation proved his case. On 19th May 1940,  Winston Churchill made his first broadcast as Prime Minister.  With defeat in France imminent and speaking just seven days before the start of the Dunkirk evacuation, he paddled down Nazi invasion in Biblical terms. Churchill urged Britons: Arm yourselves, and be ye men of valour, and be in readiness for the conflict, for it is better for us to die in battle than to look upon the outrage of our nation and our altar. Churchill spoke haltingly, but passionately – “I have to declare the decision of His Majesty’s Government – and I feel sure it is a decision in which the great Dominion will, in due course, concur – but we must speak out now, at once, without a day’s delay. I have to make a declaration, but can you doubt what our policy will be? We have but one aim and one single irrevocable purpose: we are resolved to destroy Hitler and every vestige of the Nazi regime. From this, nothing will turn us – nothing. We will never parley; we will never negotiate with Hitler or any of his gang.” “We shall fight him by land, we shall fight him by sea, we shall fight him in the air, until, with God’s help, we have rid the Earth of his shadow and liberated his people from his yoke. Any man or State who fights against Nazism, will have our aid. Any man or State who marches with Hitler is our foe. That is our policy and that is our declaration. It follows, therefore, that we shall give whatever help we can to Russia and the Russian people. We shall appeal to all our friends and Allies in every part of the world to take the same course and to pursue it as we shall, faithfully and steadfastly to the end.” Winston Churchill had won the day for Britain. Like all human beings, Churchill also had a lighter  side to his persona where he would be playful with his mates, but very rarely. In one occasion his famous V   sign for victory was interpreted as up your bum by one of his office secretaries – the hilarious encounter brought quite a different  side to Winston’s persona (picture below). Winston had a very troubled childhood. While at Harrow Winston Churchill wrote 76 times to his parents between 1885 and 1892, and received not more than six letters. In one of these, his mother Jennie remonstrated him over his schoolwork and thoughtlessness, adding you repay your father’s (Lord Randolph) kindness to you badly. Lord Randolph remained convinced that his eldest son Winston would never amount to anything and took little interest in him. Once Lord Randolph   castigated   Winston for incessant complaints and his total lack of application at Sandhurst. Wealthy, privileged and fiercely independent New Yorker Jennie Jerome (Winston’s mother) took Victorian England by storm. As Lady Randolph Churchill she gave birth to a man who defined twentieth century: her son Winston. But as the family’s influence soared, scandals exploded and tragedy befell the Churchills. Jennie was inescapably drawn to the brilliant and seductive Count Charles Kinsky –  diplomat, skilled horse racer and a deeply passionate lover. She disrupted lives, including her own, as their impossible affair only intensified leaving Randolph Churchill’s sanity frayed. Forced to decide where her heart truly belonged, Jennie risked everything – even her son – on both sides of the Atlantic ! Violet, one of Jennie’s many accomplices, once quipped – Jennie barely spared Winston a thought when he was a boy. Only when he was old enough to be interesting  – to worship her as she liked – did she bother to take him. Poor chap might have been raised by wolves !! A wayward mother and a whimsical father were what Winston got and the upbringing in those venomous surroundings brought about in him, apart from other reasons, a deep hatred for India.   In 1943, India then still a British possession, experienced a disastrous famine in the north-eastern region of Bengal - sparked by the Japanese occupation of Burma the year before. At least three million people were believed to have died - and Churchill's actions, or lack thereof, had been the subject of criticism. He refused to meet India’s need for wheat and continued to export rice to fuel the war effort. The War Cabinet ordered the build-up of a stockpile of wheat for feeding European civilians after they had been liberated. So, 170,000 tons of Australian wheat were stored, starving India - destined not for consumption. Churchill even  blamed the Indians for the famine , claiming they bred like rabbits.                                       Goodness Winston !!   Was Jennie speaking for you(?).   There is nothing sadder in India’s Independence than the way it traversed its way. At three minutes before midnight on 14th August 1947  the unity of the Indian subcontinent was broken. Pakistan was established as an independent, sovereign state. Exactly five minutes later India became independent.   The British Empire could not hold on to the Jewel in their Crown. In spite of all efforts !!   In 1943  Archibald Wavell   was appointed by Churchill as the Viceroy. He was supposed to sit tight and keep India quiet through the war. But to Churchill’s great irritation he did something what his earlier political masters had never done – he came up with a policy precisely opposite of what history and instincts would have suggested, but it was correct and it was what his successor, Mountbatten  would do.   Wavell saw that nothing the politicians had been doing had prepared India to look after herself as there was no economic preparation. The choice was to stay for another generation – which Wavell thought would be impossible. He felt the Empire’s attitudes towards India negligent, hostile and contemptuous to a degree nobody had anticipated. Repeatedly the Indians would find being offered a form of words   which was known to mean one thing to them and quite another to those making the promise.   The weasel statements, the deliberate misunderstandings were difficult to excuse.   They were the reasons that Indian politicians, then and now, accused and accuse the British of bad faith. Well, Winston, you lost your hat here !   The War over, Britain no longer had the means, financial or otherwise, or indeed the strength of will, to hold on to India. But the Labor Government which was elected in 1945 had no wish to let go of India entirely. For geo-strategical and prestige reasons India was to be kept in the Commonwealth and tied in to defense commitments. It was envisaged that an area around Delhi would not pass out of British control and that there would be a continuing British presence.                                               Sadly, it did not happen. It was never meant to be. While Winston Churchill kept fuming, India got freedom beating all his appalling tribulations. One can see above when he, with his wife, in one of the many ceremonies at Buckingham Palace, kept pointing his sinister eyes at Lord Mountbatten (not in the frame) whispering in her ears:   This is the man who engineered everything. He gave India away !!   Shut up!   Clementine Churchill was quick to retort. Footnote: Churchill never had a clue of the depth with which Gandhi spoke. One instance, where he lectured the All-India Congress Committee (AICC), Bombay on 8th of August, 1942 forced the British administration to sit up and notice the amazing abilities of the great man.   “Gentlemen, I want to declare to the world, although I may have forfeited the regard of many friends in the West and I must bow my head low; but even for their friendship or love I must not suppress the voice of conscience - promoting of my inner basic nature today. There is something within me impelling me to cry out my agony. I have known humanity.  I have studied something of psychology. Such a man knows exactly what it is.” “I do not mind how you describe it. That voice within tells me - you have to stand against the whole world although you may have to stand alone. You have to stare in the face the whole world although the world may look at you with bloodshot eyes.” “Do not fear. Trust the little voice residing within your heart. It says : forsake friends, wife and all; but testify to that for which you have lived and for which you have to die. I want to live my full span of life. And for me I put my span of life at 120 years . By that time India will be free, the world will be free.” The world stared wide eyed in wonder ! Churchill was halted at its steps, he listened with bated breath what this man, whom he once called a half-naked fakir, was capable of, how he spoke with aplomb, how distinguished an orator he was.     “It is, however, with all these things as the background that I want Englishmen, Europeans and all the United Nations to examine in their hearts what crime had India committed in demanding Independence.  I ask, is it right for you to distrust such an organization with all its background, tradition and record of over half a century and misrepresent its endeavours before all the world by every means at your command?”   “There is a chorus of disapproval and righteous protest all over the world against us. They say we are erring, the move is inopportune. I had great regard for British diplomacy which has enabled them to hold the Empire so long. Now it stinks in my nostrils, and others have studied that diplomacy and are putting it into practice. They may succeed in getting, through these methods, world opinion on their side for a time; but India  will speak against that world opinion.”                                   “ I have pledged the Congress and the Congress will do or die.” References:  1.        India’s Struggle for Independence - Bipin Chandra 2.       India After Gandhi - Ramchandra Guha 3.       A Passage to India - E. M. Forster 4.       Train to Pakistan - Khushwant Singh 5.       Freedom At Midnight - Dominique Lapierre & Larry Collins Disclaimer:   The names Lazmi, Abhi, Sheila, Shreshta, Saifu are imaginary and do not have any resemblance to any person(s) dead or alive.

London. New Year’s Day, 1947.  It was the winter of a  nation's disillusion. An air of anguish hung like a chilly smog over London. Rarely, if ever, had Britain's capital ushered in a New Year in a mood so desolate, so sulky. Hardly a home, in the city that festive morning, could furnish enough hot water to allow a man to take a bath or a woman to cover her wet hair with a warm towel. Londoners had greeted the New Year in bedrooms so chilly their breath had wafted in the air like a whiff of smoke, precious few of them had greeted it with a cramped head. Bourbon in the places where it had been available the night before for New Year's Eve celebrations, had cost fifteen pounds a bottle. And yet, that sad, depressed and forlorn city was the centre  of a conquering nation. Only some fifteen months before, the British had emerged victorious from mankind's most atrocious conflict. Their accomplishments, their dauntless bravery in adversity had emboldened their people and inspired an admiration the world had never witnessed being accorded to anyone. They deserved all laurels for that victory !! However, the cost of the victory had devastated and blown the British people to smithereens! Britain's industry was crippled, it's exchequer ruined,  the once arrogant and disdainful  pound sterling surviving only on shots of American dollars, it's treasury unable to pay the astounding debt it had run up to finance the war. Revenue establishments were closing everywhere. Over two million Britons were unemployed. Coal production was lower than it had been a decade earlier and, as a result, every day, some part of Britain was without energy for hours. For Londoners, the New Year beginning would be the eighth consecutive year they had lived under inhuman rationing of almost every product they consumed: food, fuel, energy, shoes, clothing. Lack of food and whimpering cold had become the order of the day for the very people who had defeated Hitler proclaiming V for Victory. Picture above shows Winston Churchill showing the proud V for Victory and exchanging a rare laugh with his personal secretary after the War. The word most frequently scribbled on the windows of London's shops was No : No potatoes, No  coal, No cigarettes, No meat. What a mess !! For an insightful take on Britain’s economy please visit   www.cheekychatur.com to read BRITAIN IS A POOR COUNTRY NOW. THE PROS AND CONS. Indeed the reality confronting Britain that New Year's morning had been captured in one vicious sentence by Britain’s greatest economist; “We are a poor nation,” John Maynard Keynes had told his countrymen the year before, “and we must learn to live accordingly.”   Six thousand miles from Downing Street, in a village of the Gangetic Delta above Bay of Bengal, an elderly man stretched out on the floor of a hut. It was exactly twelve noon. As he did every day-at that hour, he reached up for the dripping wet cotton sack that an assistant offered him. Dark splotches of the mud packed inside, it oozed through the bag's porous folds. The man carefully patted the sack on to his abdomen. Then he took a second, smaller bag and stuck it on his bald head. He seemed, lying there on the floor, a fragile little being. The appearance was deceptive. That wizened 77 -year-old man, Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, beaming out from under his face scrub had done more to topple the British Empire than any man alive.   It was because of him that a British Prime Minister had finally been obliged to send Queen Victoria's great grandson  to New Delhi to find a way to give India her freedom.     A shocked Mountbatten  never believed that Gandhi would be killed by his own countrymen !! There were three of them, men who were not supposed to come back stood in the sparsely furnished confines of Retiring Room number six of the Old Delhi railway station watching the bustle of tongas, carts, creaking buses, swarming by  in the street below . The police of India no longer had days in which to save the life of Mahatma Gandhi. They had only hours.  Godse, Apte and Karkare had just fixed in that dim railroad station room their rendezvous with history. They had chosen the hour when they would kill Mohandas Gandhi. They would assassinate him at five o’clock the following day. The three men asked for a sumptuous meal: rice, vegetables, curds and chapatis. Since the waiter did not have sour curds to offer, Nathuram Godse called the headwaiter and gave him five rupees: Look, this is a party meal. We want curds, you go anywhere you have to go but at any cost bring us curds.                                       After the curds arrived, they had had a meal to remember. As Apte and Karkare started to leave the room, Karkare turned back for a last glance at Godse.   The man who was going to kill Gandhi was already stretched out on his bed reading one of the two books he had brought with him to Delhi. It was an Earle Stanley Gardener Perry Mason detective story. But it was not always guns and cries. In a remote place in Punjab love blossomed. Joginder Singh had been gone from his home about an hour. He had only left when the sounds of the goods train told him it was safe to go. Lying on the field, Jogi stretched out his hands over his head and behind him, groping, the girl dodged him. Jogi caressed her cheeks, eyes and nose that his hands knew so well. He tried to play with her lips to induce them to kiss his fingers. The girl opened her mouth and bit him fiercely, Joginder jerked his hand away. With a quick movement he caught the girl’s head in both his hands and brought her face over to his. Then he slipped his arms under her waist and hoisted her into the air above him with her arms and legs kicking, then he brought her down flat upon him limb to limb. The girl slapped him on the face and angrily mouthed crashing words which Jogi enjoyed thoroughly. Joginder Singh crossed his arms behind Lazmi’s  back and squeezed her till she could not talk or breathe. Every time she started to speak, he tightened his arms around her and her words got stuck in her throat. She gave up and put her exhausted face against his. He laid her beside him with her head nestling in the hollow of his left arm. With his right hand he stoked her hair and face.   Joginder’s hands strayed from the girl’s face to her bosoms and her waist. She caught it and put it back on her face. His breathing became slow and sensuous. He stretched his left arm that lay under the girl’s head and caught her reproving hand. Her other arm was already under him. She was defenceless.   In a state of frenzy, she dug her nails into his thinly bearded cheeks. The stars above her went into a mad whirl. Sands gritting in her hair, the breeze trespassing on her wind spattered limbs, she pushed the moment away and started heading home. It was an evening of wild love making ! That night, in this little town of Majora,   five armed dacoits disembarked from a train coming from Lahore. There was no stoppage at Majora, as the train slowed the armed men silently slipped into the darkness.   It would not be before morning the train reached Delhi station. Rehmat, the leader had come to finish Joginder Singh as he had heard enough of his flirtations with his sister Lazmi. That night, Jogi was fatally wounded and Lazmi silently took her mother and left Majora for good. She was heading for Calcutta where she would find a job at the theatre for a living.                          In the summer of 1941 Jogi had vanished into the gunshots of Majora !! ***** Lazmi left for Calcutta where he met Abhi – the man who helped her find a shelter and work. But that very Lazmi ditched Abhimanyu (Abhi) for another man. Please visit www.cheekychatur.com  for detailed story on Lazmi (PART-II. LOVE HATE AND BETRAYAL: HOW PAIN RULED MANY LIVES DURING INDIA’S INDEPENDENCE). The Jallianwala Bagh massacre took place on 13  April 1919. A large, peaceful crowd had gathered at the Jallianwala Bagh in Amritsar, Punjab, during the annual Baishakhi fair to protest against the Rowlatt Act and the arrest of pro-independence activists Saifuddin Kitchlew and Satyapal.  Through it, just as the meeting had begun, marched Amritsar’s Martial Law Commander, Brigadier R.E. Dyer,   at the head of fifty soldiers. The Jallianwala Bagh could only be exited on one side, as its other three sides were enclosed by buildings. After blocking the exit with his troops, Dyer ordered them to shoot at the crowd, continuing to fire even as the protestors tried to flee.   For ten full minutes, while the trapped men, women and children screamed for mercy, the soldiers fired more than 1600  rounds. The bullets killed and wounded more than 1500  people. Convinced he had done a jolly good thing; Dyer marched his men back out of Bagh !!   Dyer was reprimanded for his actions and was asked to resign  from the army. He was, however, allowed to retain full pension benefits and other rights due to him. His demonstration was applauded by most of the British in India.   In clubs all across the country, his admiring countrymen took up a collection on his behalf, amassing the then prodigious sum of 26,000  pounds to ease the rigors of his premature retirement. Does modern Britain loathe him? I wonder ! This typical British distaste for all things Indian was nauseating, where an aura of inhumanity attracted cheers and applause. Many British families those days would come to India for a visit – they   wanted to see and know how India looked like, how the Indians are different from theirs and how Britain poured enormous sums of profit to its coffers from this Jewel in their Crown.   Meryl Reetherspoone had come to India for a week’s visit along with her mother Adela, hosted by local British officer Charles Hope. While Charles, who had an eye on Meryl, offered a drink on arrival, Meryl refused and announced that she was desirous to see the real India. And meandering through discussions Miss Meryl said she avoided speaking to Indians unless they were her own servants, but amused everyone by saying I want to know India and I want to see Indians! ***** We all know what tragedy befell Meryl  when she tried to murder Gabriela Ballatini in England, her bashful love affair with Rahul Singh did end in a brutal manner ! For full reading please visit www.cheekychatur.com and read PART-III AND PART-IV OF LOVE HATE AND BETRAYAL– THE EPOCH-MAKING SAGA OF RAHUL SINGH AND MERYL REETHERSPOONE. Britain’s glitterati used to visit India regularly. Mrs. Jennifer Morton, well known to Adela, had long been to India. A stupid British woman, Jennifer spoke without hindrance and more often than not left the audience bite the dust for her shameful utterances. You would come to know how silly she was ! When Meryl stepped to visit the place and know Indians, Jennifer was left astounded: “Wanting to see Indians? What I mean is I was a nurse before my marriage and came across Indian natives a great deal. So, I know. I really do know the truth about Indians. A most unsuitable position for any Englishwoman – in my native State one’s only hope was to hold sternly aloof." “Even from one’s patients?”   Adela asked wickedly. “Why, the kindest thing one can do to a native is to let him die!!” “How if he went to Heaven?”   asked Adela with a queer smile. “ He can go where he likes as long as he doesn’t come near me. They give me the creeps!”                                                        Such was the distaste for Indians! When Jallianwala Bagh happened General Michael O’Dwyer was Punjab's Lieutenant Governor. As a result, his actions were considered among the most significant factors in the rise of the Indian Independence Movement.  O'Dwyer endorsed Reginald Dyer’s action at Jallianwala Bagh and made it clear that he considered Dyer's orders to shoot at the crowds was correct. He subsequently administered martial law in Punjab on 15  April and backdated it to 30  March 1919 . In 1925 , he published  India As I Knew in which he wrote that his time as administrator, Punjab was preoccupied by the threat of terrorism and the spread of political agitation.   On March 13,1940, in retaliation for the massacre, O'Dwyer was assassinated at Caxton Hall, London by the Indian revolutionary and freedom fighter Udham Singh.    After leaving Godse  in the room, Apte and Karkare decided to go to a cinema. It was a film based on story of Rabindranath Tagore. At the lobby during intermission, they went back to what Nathuram had said: It’ll be all over by tomorrow or day after tomorrow. Karkare was nervous, Will he be able to do it? Apte drew up close, “Karkare, I know Nathuram better than you do. I'll tell you what happened and you draw your conclusion. When we left Delhi on 20 January, we went down to Cawnpore (now Kanpur) in the first-class compartment. We were chatting for a long time and not having a good sleep. At about six in the morning, as we were nearing Cawnpore, Nathuram jumped down from his upper berth. He shook me "Apte, are you awake?" he asked . '’Listen," he said, "It's I who am going to do it, and no one else. This must be done by one man who is ready to sacrifice himself. I will be that man. I will do it alone.” That day, Apte found to his relief and surprise the entrance of Birla House posed no problem at all. The guard had been increased, but no one was searching the crowd coming in for weapons. He was relieved. Godse had made his entrance safely. Karkare and Apte walked out to the end and there they saw Nathuram mingling with the crowds. He seemed composed and in good spirits. The crowd was scattered around the lawn. At five o'clock, as the time for the prayers grew near, people began to move together. Apte and Karkare took their places on either side of Nathuram. Karkare's eyes were on Nathuram as he took the pistol from his pocket and passed it between his palms. He had decided to pay respects to the man who had rendered admirable service to his country. When Gandhi was only three strides from him, Nathuram stepped into the corridor.                         He bowed slowly from the waist, and said to him Namaste Gandhiji. As Manu - Gandhi’s aide, stooped to lift Godse, at that instant Nathuram's left arm shot out, thrusting her brutally aside. The black Beretta pistol lay exposed in his right hand. Godse pulled the trigger three times. Three sharp shots shattered the stillness of the prayer ground. Nathuram Godse had not failed. All three rounds tore into the chest of the slender figure advancing towards him. On 30 January, 1948 around 5.17  pm Mahatma Gandhi was assassinated   by Nathuram Godse !! Gandhi achieved in death what he tried to achieve in his last months of life. His murder ended the senseless communal killings of neighbour by neighbour which had followed Partition  in India’s villages and cities. The antagonism  of the sub-continent would remain, but they would henceforth be transformed primarily to the conventional plane of a conflict between nation states waged by regular armies on the battlefield. The sacrifice in the gardens of Birla House would stand as the climax of the triumph and tragedy which embraced the Indian sub-continent in the years of 1947-48. On February 10, 1949   Godse and Apte were convicted and were sentenced to death. Karkare was given life sentence and subsequently released from prison in October 1964  !! In 1943   Archibald Wavell was appointed by Churchill as the Viceroy. He was supposed to sit tight and keep India quiet through World-War II. But to Churchill’s great irritation he did something what his earlier political masters had never done – he came up with a policy precisely opposite of what history and instincts would have suggested, but it was correct and it was what his successor, Mountbatten would do.   Wavell saw that nothing the politicians had been doing had prepared India to look after herself as there was no economic preparation. The choice was to stay for another generation – which Wavell thought would be impossible. Lord Mountbatten, an officer of impeccable record was sent to Delhi to hand over India undivided and unscathed to Mohandas Gandhi. Moreover, his plan had to be approved by Gandhi’s inner circle of politicians; Pandit Nehru, Md. Ali Jinnah, Sardar Patel, Maulana Azad and Frontier Gandhi.   Mountbatten observed, Sardar Patel was quite different from Pandit Nehru and way different from Gandhi. One incident caused Mountbatten to be quite cranky with Sardar Patel.   Its cause was in no way related to the great issues facing India. It was a slip of paper, a routine government minute issued by Patel's Home Ministry, dealing with an appointment. Mountbatten, however, had read in its tone, in the way Patel had put it out, a calculated challenge to his authority.   Patel had a well-earned reputation  for toughness. He had an instinctive need to take the measure of a new interlocutor, to see how far he could push him. That piece of paper on his desk, Mountbatten was convinced, was a test, a little examination he had to go through with Patel before he could get down to serious matters. That incident formed part of the legend of Vallabhbhai Patel and was a measure of the man. Emotion, one of his associates once observed, formed no part of his character. The remark was not wholly exact. Patel was an emotional man, but he never let those emotions break through the composed facade  he turned to the world. If he gave off one salient impression, it was that of a man wholly in control of himself. Why this man is trying to bully me, an unbelievingly Louis Mountbatten thought. Operation Seduction had come to a sudden halt at the rock-like figure planted opposite him. With his khadi dhoti whirled about shoulders like a toga, his bald head glowing, his scowling  demeanour, the man jammed into that chair looked to the Viceroy more like a Roman senator than an Indian politician. He was an Oriental Tammany Hall boss, the machinery of the Congress Party, with a firm and ruthless hand. He should have been the easiest member the Indian quartet for Mountbatten to deal with. Like the Viceroy, he was a practical, pragmatic man, a hard realistic bargainer. Yet the tension between them  was so real, so palpable, that it seemed to Mountbatten he could reach out and touch it. Mountbatten studied the Indian leader. He was going to need the support of this man and the machinery he represented. But he was sure he would never get it if he did not face him down now. Asked by Patel what would be his response to the slip in front of him, Mountbatten shot back “Very well”, said Mountbatten, “I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I’m going to order my plane.”   “Oh”, said Patel, “but why?” “Because I'm leaving”, Mountbatten fumed. “I didn't want this job in the first place, I've just been looking for someone like you to give me an excuse to throw it up and get out of an impossible situation”.   “You don’t mean it!”, exclaimed Patel. “Mean it?”,   replied Mountbatten. “You don’t think I am going to stay here and be bullied by a chap like you, do you? If you think you can be rude to me and push me  you're wrong. You'll either withdraw that minute or one of us is going to resign. And let me tell you that if I go, I shall first explain to your Prime Minister and to Mr. Jinnah why I am leaving. The breakdown in India, which will follow, the blood that will be shed, will be on your shoulders and no one else's”. Patel stared at Mountbatten in disbelief. Come, come, he declared, Mountbatten wasn't going to throw over the Viceroyalty after only a month on the job.   “Mr Patel”,   Mountbatten answered, “you evidently don't know me. Either you withdraw your minute here and now, or I shall summon the Prime Minister and announce my resignation”.   A long silence followed. “You know”, Patel finally sighed, “the awful part is I think you mean it”.   “You are damned right I do”, answered Mountbatten.   Patel reached out, took the offending minute off Mountbatten’s desk and slowly tore it up.   Amongst all this furore, Jinnah kept on pestering for a separate Muslim State. Gandhi had no option but to offer him the Prime Ministership of Independent and undivided India.   If Gandhi’s political allies refused to endorse his scheme, as Gandhi reasoned with his colleagues, the new Viceroy - Mountbatten - might find driven into a corner from which the only escape would be partition.   Only Gandhi knew, as he walked barefooted vast expanses of villages in Noakhali and Bihar, appeasing the people, that the only way to get Independence was through peaceful means. He had understood infinitely than those political leaders he worked with; the tragedy partition might produce. He had seen in the huts and swamps what havoc communal fury, once unleashed, could wreak. Partition, he argued, risked unleashing those passions, not dampening them. Desperately he begged his followers to accept his idea as their last chance to keep India united and to prevent that tragedy. Nehru and Patel did not budge. There was a limit to the price they were prepared to pay to keep India united and handing over power to their foe,  Jinnah. They did not share Gandhi's conviction that partition would inevitably lead to terrible violence. Broken-hearted, Gandhi would have to report to the Viceroy that he had not been able to carry his colleagues with him. The real break was still some distance ahead, but Gandhi and those men he had so patiently groomed had drifted far apart. Gandhi's crusade was nearing its end and it would only stop in the stillness of his soul.                                                                                  And so it seemed !   Amidst all this, Jinnah   turned out to be a real villain. Mountbatten had an ugly spat with him when Jinnah spoke nonchalantly leaving Mountbatten flabbergasted: “India has never been a true nation. It only looks that way on the map. The cows I eat,  the Hindus stop me from killing. Every time they shake hands with me, they have to wash their hands. The only thing the Muslims have in common with the Hindus is British slavery.” Jinnah wanted Pakistan at any cost as he continued preaching Mountbatten, “India has to be divided. Of course, that division would have to produce a viable state and that meant two of India’s great provinces, The Punjab and Bengal would have to go to Pakistan despite the fact that each contained enormous Hindu population.” When Mountbatten shouted angrily that the partition would entail endless bloodshed and agony, Jinnah assured him nothing of that sort would happen. Mountbatten was stunned at the absurdity and rigidity of Jinnah. “I never would have believed”, he later recalled, “that an intelligent man, well-educated, trained in the Inns of Court, was capable of simply closing his mind as Jinnah did. It wasn't that he didn't see the point. He did, but a kind of shutter came down. He was the evil genius in the whole thing. The others could be persuaded, but not Jinnah. While he was alive nothing could be done.”   Jinnah was hopelessly self-centred and brutally anti-Hindu, which Mountbatten found to his chagrin. Jinnah could have divided India into many parts – not two – to get his claim to an independent Pakistan. A protector of Muslims(?), sadly No.  Jinnah, who   never went to a Masjid to offer prayers, hardly read Quran, smoked heavily, drank beer and wine with pork –  how could he be the saviour of thousands of Muslims who looked up to their Quaid-e-Azam, who believed he would protect them from the Hindu onslaught  if Pakistan happened, who believed they would get a beautiful, prosperous country to live in the name of Pakistan. Alas, how wrong were they !! During Partition around 2 million people died in which around sixty percent were Muslims.   There is nothing sadder in India’s Independence than the way it traversed its way. At three minutes before midnight on 14  August 1947   the unity of the Indian subcontinent was broken. Pakistan was established as an independent, sovereign state. Exactly five minutes later India became independent. Do you know this is an explosive secret capable of changing the course of history(?). Mountbatten came across a medical report of the doctor who treated Jinnah. The report described in detail a chest X-ray; the plate confirmed the advanced stages of tuberculosis. In spring of 1947,  Mohammed Ali Jinnah, the inflexible Muslim leader who had quashed all of Mountbatten’s efforts to preserve India’s unity knew he had only a few months left to live !! Mountbatten was astounded. “If I had only known this at the time, the course of history would have been different. I would have delayed the granting of independence for several months. There would have been no Partition. Pakistan would not have existed.   India would have remained united. Three wars would have been avoided.”  And Gandhi ji would not have been assassinated !! There would be no Pakistan, there would be no POK, there would be no Bangladesh !!                                                                                                                     Jinnah died on September 11, 1948.   This article best describes Mahatma Gandhi – the Father of Nation   – his pain and sufferings, his inability to instil sense into his trusted colleagues who desperately wanted to get rid of Jinnah.   This article is about his assassination   by a maverick who thought Gandhi was siding with the Muslims and was the reason for partition.            Do you think Gandhi knew that Jinnah  was going to die in a few months? Maybe yes !! Footnote. A posse of human sea moved with Mahatma Gandhi’s lifeless body. Four armoured cars and a squadron of Governor General’s bodyguard opened the march. Their presence in Gandhi’s funeral entourage was Mountbatten’s last gesture to the “dejected sparrow” he might have disdained but had come to love. It was the first time these troops of the old Viceroy’s bodyguard had so exalted an Indian. Manohar Pandey   saw for the first time, as the retinue of armed men passed him, in his life that famous face resting on its cushions of flowerettes. He felt the pang of tears in his eyes. One simple thought spirited  his ever grateful being as he watched Gandhi pass : “Now I can breathe freely.” For five hours the procession continued to stroll through the mourning multitude of people to the banks of the Jamuna River and Gandhi’s funeral pyre. There, at least another million people stretched out over the expansive grasslands. An English correspondent covering the procession felt “Gandhi was receiving in death a homage beyond the dreams of any Viceroy. It was the largest crowd ever to gather on the face of the earth.” Looking at the silhouette of the man he had come to know so well in the brief span of a year Louis Mountbatten was deeply moved, “he looked as though he was sleeping peacefully there before our eyes, and yet in a few seconds while we looked on he was going to disappear, for ever, in a flash of flames” References:   1.        India’s Struggle for Independence – Bipin Chandra 2.       India After Gandhi – Ramchandra Guha 3.       A Passage to India – E. M. Forster 4.       Train to Pakistan – Khushwant Singh 5.        Gandhi my Father – Amazon Prime 6.       Freedom At Midnight – Larry Collins & Dominique Lapierre     Disclaimer: The names Joginder Singh, Rehmat, Lazmi, Adela, Meryl Reetherspoone, Charles Hope and Jennifer Morton are imaginary and do not hold any resemblance to any person(s) dead or alive.

Dear Reader,  before going through the present article I would like you to refresh your memory what happened earlier. Rahul Singh went to Rome on a holiday and had a fling with the brilliant Gabriela Ballatini. It was another jolly good outing for Rahul but he forgot that Gabriela’s father was one of the most powerful men around. Adriano Vilecchio did not take the wild ways of Rahul kindly. Gabriela became obsessed with Rahul; she could not take this snub of Rahul and told her father he must be punished. When Meryl came to know Rahul’s infidelity, she forgave Rahul, which was pleasantly amusing, but could not forgive Gabriela. She plotted Gabriela’s death but the whole operation turned into a horrible blunder, and led her to a murder trial! She was facing a powerful man, but her lawyer was one of the best in the world. He was none other than Andrew Costa !! A section of the room had been reserved for the press, and representatives were there from Reuters, United Press, International News Service, French Press Agency and Tass, among others.   As an American newsweekly expressed it - the emotion that flowed toward Meryl Reetherspoone from the crowd that had come to witness her trial, was so strong that it became an almost physical presence in the courtroom. It was not a feeling of sympathy or of enmity, it was simply a feeling of expectation. The woman being tried for murder by the state was a killer, a woman of ghastly attitude, Gabriela Ballatini was a noble lady,  and they were there to watch Meryl Reetherspoone being brought down to their level and destroyed. The feeling in the courtroom must have been the same feelings that were in the hearts of the peasants who watched Marie Antoinette riding to her doom in the tumbrel. Meryl was not the only act in the legal circus. At the other end of the defendant's box sat Rahul Singh, filled with a smouldering anger, his handsome face was pale,   and he had lost weight, but those things only served to accentuate his sculptured features, and many of the women in the courtroom had an urge to take him in their arms and console him. The third star of the circus was Andrew Costa, a man who was well known in legal halls of Italy . Andrew Costa was acknowledged to be one of the greatest criminal lawyers in the world. He had defended clients ranging from heads of government who had been found with their fingers in the public coffers, to murderers who had been caught red handed by the police, and he had never lost a major case.   Costa was well built, bearded and he sat in the courtroom watching the spectators with large, sad bloodhound eyes in a crumbling face.   When Costa addressed a jury, his speech was slow and hesitant, and he had great difficulty expressing himself. Sometimes he was in such an agony of embarrassment that a juror would helpfully blurt out the word that Andrew Costa was fumbling for,   and when this happened the lawyer's face would fill with such relief and inexpressible gratitude that the entire panel of jurors would feel a wave of affection for the man.   Outside the courtroom Costa was a crisp, incisive speaker with a consummate mastery of language and syntax. He spoke seven languages fluently and when his busy schedule permitted, he gave lectures to jurists all over the world.   Seated on the lawyer's bench a few feet away from Costa, was Anthony Fritz, the defence attorney for Rahul Singh. The experts agreed that while Fritz might be competent enough to handle routine cases, he was hopelessly out of his depth in this one. When it had been announced that Costa was going to defend Meryl Reetherspoone, the woman who had murdered Gabriela and held Vilecchio up to public sympathy, the news had created a furore.  As powerful as Costa was, Adriano Vilecchio was a hundred times more powerful and no one could imagine what had possessed Costa to go against Vilecchio.   Now Andrew Costa sat at the long wooden lawyer's table thinking about the battle that was about to take place. He started with a stunning opening statement. "This woman on trial," Costa was saying to the jurors, “cannot be tried for murder. Because there has been no murder. If there had been a murder, I am sure that my brilliant colleague for the State, Ms. Gloria Bloom,  would have been good enough to have shown us the body of the victim. She has not done, so we must assume that there is no body, and therefore no murder." He stopped to scratch the crown of his head and looked down at the floor as though trying to remember where he had left off. He nodded to himself, then looked up at the jury. ON THE NIGHT OF DECEMBER 15, 1946. When Mellanie Stone saw the fierce altercation Meryl had with Gabriela, she was terrified. She ran inside and called from her room. “Hello.” “Grandpa, it’s Mili.” “Yes darling, what happened(?).” “Grandpa, Gaby ma’am is seriously injured, Meryl has hit her and she has thrown the body into the underbridge water.” “Why …………… but who is Meryl(?).”                                                                  ROME. JANUARY 10, 1947.   The courtroom was packed. President of the Court, Judge Roberto Almici, was presiding. He asked prosecution lawyer Ms. Gloria Bloom to call the first witness. “My Lord, the first witness I have called is none other than Mr. Adriano Vilecchio.” “Mr. Vilecchio, very good morning to you.” “Good morning.” “Mr Vilecchio can you tell the court what happened on the night of December 15.” “Yes, I will. On 15th of December, 1946, I received a call from Ms. Melanie Stone saying that my daughter Gabriela was grievously injured.” “Who injured her(?)” “Meryl Reetherspoone. I have the recorded audio when she called me, I have deposited the tape to prosecution.” Please run the tape, Judge Roberto Almici ordered. The tape was run……………………………………. Hello. Grandpa, it’s Mili. Yes darling, what happened. Grandpa, Gaby ma’am is seriously injured, Meryl has hit her and she has thrown the body into the underbridge water. Why …………… but who is Meryl(?). Everyone was stunned. The court knew who Meryl was. But who was Mili !! Andrew Costa rose from his chair and walked towards the witness box. “Good morning, Mr Vilecchio.” “Good morning, Mr. Costa.” “The court has heard the tapes, what I want to ask you is how did you know Melanie Stone(?)” What he described to the courtroom surprised the audience – Adriano Vilecchio had a son Antonio Vilecchio. He was younger to Gabriela. Finishing school he nurtured the desire to excel in studies. Antonio had a way in fashion, he understood fashion and wanted to work in fashion industry. He enrolled himself in University of Creative Arts in London. He was doing very well. Prikly Stone, over time, became very close to Antonio. Finishing studies Prikly wanted to settle down with Antonio. But, everything came to an end in a flash. Antonio died from an overdose of drugs. Prikly left fashion industry and settled for a nine to five job in an insurance company. Melanie  was born and Prikly raised Melanie while Evonne  – her mother helped her with finances. When Evonne died Prikly was left alone – all by herself. Adriano Vilecchio took all responsibility of her education. Mili was bright, she went to Magdalen to pursue maths. Mili had been in constant touch with Adriano, she studied with confidence knowing her grandfather was a powerful man.   Prikly often visited Rome, in private, with Mili. Adriano had given strict instructions to keep the whole thing under wraps   – that condition was honoured till Adriano had to come to court and tell the truth! The judges, the jurors, Costa and the packed crowd listened in rapt attention. The crowd felt a grave injustice had been done to the Vilecchio family. Quite often, filthy rich and enormously powerful men also succumb to queers of fate. “But, Mr. Vilecchio, can we know what happened to the body of Gabriela Ballatini(?)”,  Costa approached Adriano with a wry smile. “I know as much as you know. I must ask the police what efforts they have made to find Gaby’s body; it has been more than twenty days and we are still searching !!” Seargent Fabioni, who was in charge of the investigation, informed that till the previous day no body had been found. The search was on and the Court would be informed accordingly. “Thank you, Mr. Adriano Vilecchio,”,   the Judge informed, “please take your seat.” “Thank you.” “The Court is adjourned for today. The next hearing will be on Wednesday, 15 January.”    The President of the Court announced. Adriano Vilecchio gave a sharp look at his lawyer, Gloria Bloom, and left the courthouse.                                                                       JANUARY 15, 1947. Andrew Costa started his defence from where he had left on Friday. At one end of the defendant's box sat Meryl, wonderfully beautiful, her honey skin a bit paler than usual, and dressed as though she had just stepped out of Madame Chanel's . There was a regal quality about Meryl, a noble presence that heightened the drama of what was happening to her. It whetted the excitement of the spectators and sharpened their blood lust. “My Lord, I had stated earlier that our learned friend has not produced the body of Gabriela Ballatini, so we must assume that there is no body, and therefore no murder." "No, gentlemen, that is not what this trial is about, my client is being tried because she broke another law, an unwritten law that says you must not fornicate with another woman's fiancé. The press has already found her guilty of that charge, and the public has found her guilty, and now they are demanding that she be punished." Costa stopped to pull out a large white handkerchief, stared at it a moment as if wondering how it had gotten there, blew his nose and replaced the handkerchief in his pocket, "Very well. If she has broken a law, let us punish her. But not for murder, gentlemen. Not for a murder that was never committed. Meryl Reetherspoone was guilty of being the fiancée of Rahul Singh, but if you must know it, you cannot find this crime on the front page of any newspaper. Because it’s not a crime we most people know of."   Costa smiled triumphantly. Moments later, Gloria Bloom helped a witness for the prosecution to be sworn in. "Your name?" "Christian Petit." "You are a French national, Mr. Petit?" "Yes." "And where is your residence?" "In Paris." "Would you tell the court your occupation?" "I am the owner of a private detective agency.” "And where is that agency located(?)” "The main one is in Paris." "What kind of cases do you handle(?)" "Many kinds, commercial pilfering, missing persons, surveillance for jealous husbands or wives.” "Monsieur Petit, would you be good enough to look around this courtroom an tell us whether anyone in this room has ever been a client of yours(?)" A long, slow look around the room. "Yes, madame." "Would you tell the Court who this person is, please(?)" "The lady sitting over there. Miss Meryl Reetherspoone."   There was a murmur of interest from the spectators. "Are you telling us that Miss Meryl hired you to do some detective work for her(?)" "I am, senorita." "And would you tell us exactly what that work consisted of (?)” "Yes, madame. She was interested in a man called Mr. Rahul Singh. She wanted me to find out everything I could about him.” "That is the same Mr. Rahul Singh who is on trial in this courtroom (?)"  "Yes, madame." "And Miss Meryl paid you for this?" "Yes, madame." "Would you please look at these exhibits in my hand, are these records of the payments that were made to you(?)” "It is correct."    Tell us, Monsieur Petit, how did you go out obtaining this information on Mr. Rahul Singh." "It was very difficult, senorita. You see I was in France and Mr. Rahul Singh was in Italy, later in England, India.” “And what did you find Monsieur Petit(?)” “We have proof that Mr. Rahul Singh and Miss Gabriela Ballatini were in love, they often went to the beaches together.” "Just a moment. I want to be sure that I understand what you are saying, Monsieur Petit. We have been told by Miss Meryl’s attorney that Rahul and Gabriela met a few short months ago and fell madly in love.” “Yes, that’s correct.” “What more you know about them(?)” “I want to tell that I have information from a renowned hospital in Rome that Miss Gabriela visited twice to meet a lady doctor in a hospital.” “Why(?)” “Because Miss Gabriela was five weeks pregnant and wanted to marry Mr. Rahul Singh.” “You conveyed this information to Miss Meryl(?)” “Yes madame.”   Gloria Bloom flashed Costa a triumphant look. "Your witness." “Monsieur Petit, you are wearing an excellent jacket. It must have cost you a grand”, Costa smiled.   “Have you ever tried the English tailors? They're supposed to be excellent." "No, monsieur." "I'm sure you've been to England many times?" "Well, no, no sir.” "Have you been to Italy?" “No sir.” "Have you ever visited the South Pacific?" "No, sir." "Then you must truly be a fantastic detective, Mr. Petit. My hat is off to you. These cohorts of yours cover the activities of Mr. Rahul Singh in England and Italy - and yet you tell us that you have never even been to any of these places. I can only assume that you are psychic." "Permit me to correct you, monsieur. It was not necessary for me to have been in any of those places. I employ what we call correspondent agencies in England and in Italy." "Ah, forgive my stupidity. Of course! so were they actually the people who covered the activities of Mr. Rahul Singh?" "Exactment." "And so, the fact is that you yourself have no personal knowledge of Mr. Rahul Singh’s movements." "Well, no sir." "So, in reality all your information is second hand." "I suppose, yes." Costa turned to the judges. "I move to strike the entire testimony of this witness, Your Honours, on the grounds that it is hearsay."   Gloria Bloom leaped to her feet. "Objection, Your Honours!” “Meryl Reetherspoone hired Mr. Petit to get information on Rahul Singh. That is not hearsay – his well-travelled colleagues have submitted the records as evidences.”   Costa said gently. "l am perfectly willing to accept it - if he wishes to bring the men here who actually performed the surveillance of Mr. Rahul. Otherwise, I must request the Court to assume that there was no such surveillance and that the testimony of this witness be held inadmissible." The President of the Court turned to Gloria. “Are you prepared to bring your witnesses here?",   he asked. "That's impossible,"   Gloria Bloom spluttered. “Costa knows that it would take weeks to locate them!"   The President turned to Costa. "Motion granted." It was on a Friday, 18th of July afternoon that the case finally exploded. "Would you state your name, please?", Gloria Bloom asked. "Doctor Booker. Marlene Booker." "Did you ever meet Miss Gabriela Ballatini?”.  Miss Gabriela’s picture was flashed on the screen . "Yes, I got a call from a gentleman to come near the Oxford underbridge. This woman had been injured in there, when I reached, I found her she was in a state of shock." "Had she been hurt physically?" "Yes. There were multiple contusions. Her hands and arms and cheeks had been badly scraped on the rocks. She had fallen down and hit her head, and I diagnosed a probable concussion. She was in shock and mumbled that someone tried to murder her.  I immediately gave her a shot of morphine for the pain and requested the gentleman to take her to a London hospital." "And is that where she went?" "No, madam. I don’t think so.” “Who was that gentleman(?)” “No idea madam. The woman’s injury was important to attend and so I didn’t ask his name.” "That is all, thank you, Doctor." “You can take your seat Ms. Booker”, the President said. Anthony Fritz had been confident his client would get acquittal. Now he felt betrayed. Everything was falling apart. The doctor's testimony was irreparably damaging, both for its evidence and for its emotional impact. It was all over, Fritz thought.   He sat there, paralyzed by the overpowering spectre. He turned to look at Costa. The deep, sad eyes in the hound face were studying the doctor  on the witness though trying to come to a decision. Slowly Andrew Costa rose to his feet. But instead walking over to the witness he moved toward the bench quietly addressing the Judges.   "Mr. President, Your Honours, I do not wish to examine the witness. With the Court's permission, I would like to ask for a recess in order to confer in camera with Court and the Prosecuting Attorney.”   The President of the Court turned to the Prosecutor.   “Gloria?"   "No objection" , Gloria said, her voice wary. The Court was recessed. Not one person moved, all were glued to their chairs.   Thirty minutes later Andrew Costa returned to the courtroom alone.   The instant he walked through chamber door, everyone in the courtroom sensed that something important had taken place. There was an air of secret self-satisfaction in the lawyer's face, his walk was faster and springier, as though some charade had ended an it was no longer necessary to play games. Costa walked over to the defendant's box   and stared down at Meryl, looked up into her face, her violet eyes probing, anxiously. And suddenly a smile touched the lawyer's lips, and seeing the light in his eyes Meryl knew that somehow, he had done it,   he had performed the miracle in spite of all the evidence, in spite of all the odds. Rahul Singh was staring at Costa, too, filled with fear and with hope. Whatever Costa had done would have been for Meryl. But what about him? Then Costa addressed Meryl in a ruefully neutral voice.   “President of the Court has given me permission to speak with you in his chambers."   He turned to Anthony Fritz, who was sitting in an agony of uncertainty, not knowing what was going on . “You and your client have permission to join us if you wish."   Fritz nodded. "Of course." He scrambled to his feet, almost knocking over his chair in his eagerness.   Two bailiffs accompanied them to the empty chambers of the president. When the bailiffs had left and they were alone, Costa turned to Anthony Fritz.   "What I am about to say",   he said quietly, "is for the benefit of my client. However, because they are co-defendants, I have been able to arrange for your client to be accorded the same privilege as mine."   "Tell me!" . Meryl was anxious. Costa turned to her. He spoke slowly choosing his words with great care. “I have just had a conference with the judges," he said. "They were impressed with the case the prosecution has made against you.” “How ever”,   he paused, delicately, "I was able to persuade them that the interests of justice would not be served by punishing you."   "What's going to happen?" . Fritz demanded in a fever of impatience.   There was a note of deep satisfaction in Costa's voice as he continued,   "If the defendants are willing to change their pleas to guilty, the judges have agreed to give each of them five-year sentence."   He smiled and added, "Four years of which will be suspended. In reality they will not have to serve more than six months."  He turned to Rahul. "Because you are an Indian, M r. Rahul, you will be deported. You will never be permitted to return to Italy." Rahul nodded, his body flooding with relief. Costa turned back to Meryl. "This was not an easy thing to accomplish. I must tell you in honesty that the primary reason for the leniency of the Court is the interest of Miss Gabriela’s father. Mr. Adriano Vilecchio has requested to come to a conclusion quickly, he has suffered a lot for her daughter, prosecution has not found the whereabouts of Gabriela and the court has devoted 24 sessions, almost six months on this case. It is a tired jury, the judges believe, and the president of the court doesn’t want to engage them further. They feel Mr. Vilecchio has already suffered unduly because of all this publicity, and they are anxious to see it ended."   "I understand” , Meryl said. Fifteen minutes later the two defendants stood before the judges' bench. The President of the Court was seated in the centre, flanked by the justices. Andrew Costa stood next to Meryl Reetherspoone and Anthony Fritz stood at the side of Rahul Singh. The courtroom was charged with an electric tension, for word had flashed about the room that a dramatic development was about to take place. But, when it came, it caught everyone completely off guard. In a formal, pedantic voice, Andrew Costa said, "Mr. President, Your Honours, my client wishes to change her plea from not guilty to guilty.” The President of the Court leaned back in his chair and stared at Costa.   The President consulted with the other justices in a flurry of whispers. They nodded and the President looked down at Meryl and said, "Do you wish to change your plea to guilty?"   Meryl nodded and said firmly, "I do."   Anthony Fritz spoke up quickly, as though afraid of being left out of the procedure. "Your Honors, my client wishes to change his plea from not guilty to guilty."   The President turned towards Rahul. "Do you wish to change your plea to guilty(?)   Rahul glanced at Costa and then nodded, "Yes." The President studied the two prisoners, his face grave. "Have your attorneys advised you that under Italian law the penalty for the crime of premeditated murder is execution?"     "Yes, Your Honour" , Meryl’s voice was strong and clear.   The President turned to look at Rahul.   "'Yes, sir" , he said.   There was another whispered consultation among the judges. The President of the Court turned to Gloria Bloom, "Does the Prosecutor of the State have any objection to the change of pleas from not guilty to guilty(?).”   Gloria looked at Costa for a long moment, then said, "None."   “Very well", the President said. "This Court has no choice but to accept the change of plea."   He turned to the jury "Gentlemen, in view of this new development, you are here with released from your duties as jurymen. In effect, the trial has come to an end. The Court will pass sentence. Thank you for your services and for your cooperation. The Court will recess for   two hours." In the next moment the reporters began to tumble out of the room, racing to their telephones and teletype machines to report the latest sensational development in the murder trial of Meryl Reetherspoone and Rahul Singh.   Two hours later the courtroom was packed to overflowing as the Court was reconvened.   Meryl glanced around, at the faces of the spectators - they were watching her with expressions of eager expectation,  and it was all Meryl could do to keep from laughing aloud at their naiveté. These were the common people, the masses, and they really believed that justice was meted out fairly,  that under a democracy all men were created equal, that a poor man had the same rights and privileges as a rich man.   Alas !! She looked at Rahul. Probably she was seeing for the last time her dear Rahul, what she had done destroyed their lives, destroyed their togetherness, destroyed their charming time ahead. Rahul would not be permitted out of India and she had to just but imagine Rahul with her, their loving moments together.   "Will the defendants now rise and approach the bench”,  the President ordered.   Gracefully Meryl rose, to her feet and moved toward the bench, Costa at her side. From the corner of her eye, she saw Rahul and Fritz stepping forward.   The President of the Court spoke, “This has been a long and difficult trial”, for capital cases where there is a reasonable doubt of guilt, the Court is always inclined to let the accused have the benefit of doubt. I must admit that in this case we felt that there existed such a doubt. The fact that the State was unable to produce a corpus delicti   was a very strong point in favour of the defendants.”   He turned to look at Andrew Costa, “I am sure that the able counsel for the defence is well aware that the Italian Courts have never given the death penalty in a case where a murder has not been definitely proven to have committed.”   A faint sense of unease was beginning to brush Meryl, nothing alarming yet, just the merest whisper, the slightest hint.   The President went on,   “My colleagues and I were,  for that reason,  frankly surprised when the defendants decided to change their plea to guilty, in mid-trial.” The feeling was in the pit of Meryl’s stomach now, moving upward, beginning to constrict her throat, she was suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. Rahul was gazing blindly at the Judge, not fully comprehending yet what was happening.   "We appreciate the agonizing soul-searching that must have taken place before the defendants decided to confess guilt before this Court and before the world. However, the easing of their consciences cannot be accepted as atonement for the terrible crime they have admitted committing, the cold-blooded murder of a helpless, defenceless woman."   It was at that moment that Meryl knew, with a sudden, mind-smashing certainty that she had been tricked. Costa had set up a charade of false security so that he could do this to her. This was his game;   this was the trap he had baited. Vilecchio had wanted his vengeance now, not later.   Her life could have been saved. Of course, Costa had known that she would not get the death penalty unless a corpse  was produced. He had made no deal with the judges.  Costa had rigged this whole defence to lure Meryl to her death. She turned to look at him. He looked up to meet her gaze, and his eyes were filled with a genuine sadness. Andrew Costa had murdered her, and if he had to do it over again, he would do the same thing, for in the end he was Vilecchio’s man, and he could not fight his power. The President was speaking,   “and so under the powers invested in me by the State, and in accordance with its laws, I pronounce that the sentence on the two defendants, Meryl Reetherspoone and Rahul Singh shall be execution by a firing squad.  The sentence to be carried out within ninety days from this date." The Court was in pandemonium.   Something had made Meryl turn around. The vacant seat which was earlier empty, Adriano Vilecchio sat in it. He was dressed in a blue raw-silk suit, flawlessly tailored, a light blue shirt, and a foulard tie. His eyes were bright and alive. Vilecchio had come to watch Meryl in the moment of her defeat, savouring the terror in her. His black eyes were locked on hers and for a split instant she saw in them a deep, malevolent satisfaction. And there was something else. Regret, perhaps, but it was gone before she could capture it.                                                                   The chess game was finally over. Rahul had listened to the President's last words in shocked disbelief, and when a bailiff stepped forward and took him by the arm, Rahul shook loose and turned back to the bench.   "Wait a minute!" , he yelled. "I didn't kill her! They framed me.”   Another bailiff hurried forward and the two men held Rahul. One of them pulled out a pair of handcuffs.   "No!" , Rahul was screaming.  "Listen to me! I didn't kill her!”   He tried to jerk away from the bailiffs, but the handcuffs snapped on his wrists and he was yanked away, out of the room. Meryl felt a pressure on her arm. A matron was waiting there to escort her out of the courtroom.   "They're waiting for you, Miss Meryl."     The realization hit Meryl that this was the last time in her life that she would ever be in public, the last time that she would be around other people, uncaged.     This was her farewell appearance, this dirty, dreary Rome her final jaunt. She looked around the packed courtroom the last time. She saw Shane Gough staring at her in stunned silence, shaken for once out of his structured world.     The matron was tugging at her arm now,   “Come along, Miss Meryl.” Anthony Fritz was in a state of shock.  He had not only been a witness to a cold-blooded frame-up; he had been a party to it. He could go to the President of the Court and tell him what had happened, what transpired and what Costa had promised. But would they believe him? Would they take his word against the word of Andrew Costa? It really didn't matter, Fritz thought bitterly.   After this he would be finished as a lawyer. No one would ever hire him again. Someone spoke his name and he turned and Costa was standing there saying, "If you're free tomorrow, why don't you come and have lunch with me, Anthony? I'd like you to meet my partners. I think you have done a wonderful job!”   After the President of the Court exited through the door that led to his private chamber, Fritz turned back to Andrew Costa, his mind still filled with the horror of what this man had done; he heard himself saying, "That's very kind of you, sir. What would be a convenient time to meet you(?)”. By Italian law, executions took place at Basse di Stura riverside, off Turin, a special government boat transported condemned prisoners to the riverside. A series of small grey cliffs led to the river itself and high on a hill was a lighthouse built on an outcropping of rock. It was 4.00 am on a Saturday morning, Meryl’s execution was scheduled to take place at 6.00 am. They had brought Meryl her favourite dress to wear, a wine red, brushed-wool Dior, and matching suede shoes. She had all new silk handstitched lingerie and a white jabot of Venetian lace for her throat. On instructions from Adriano Vilecchio, Meryl had been given her favourite hairdresser to do her hair. It was as though Meryl were preparing to go to a party.   Intellectually, Meryl knew that there would be no lastminute reprieve, that in a little while her body was going to be brutally violated and her blood spilled upon the ground . And yet emotionally she could not keep from hoping that somehow, someone would make a miracle and spare her life. It would not even have to be a miracle - it only needed God, a wave of his golden hand. If he spared her now, she would make it up for her wrongdoings. She would do anything, if she could only see the Almighty, she would tell him she would never do harm to another woman or to another man, that she would devote to making everyone happy !! Rahul would be executed at 7.30 am the same day.   Adriano Vilecchio summoned Costa the next day to his office. He was congratulated by Adriano for the case had gone his way and Costa had done a wonderful job. He gave him the keys to his new car, Rolls Royce Phantom III Labourdette and the new office he would be owning. Adriano had purchased a lavish bungalow in Los Angeles and would be gifted to Andrew Costa in due time.                                                 EARLIER ON THE NIGHT OF DECEMBER 15, 1946. When Mellanie Stone saw the fierce altercation Meryl had with Gabriela, she was terrified. She ran inside and called from her room. “Hello.” “Grandpa, it’s Mili.” “Yes darling, what happened(?).” “Grandpa, Gaby ma’am is seriously injured, Meryl has hit her and she has thrown the body into the underbridge water.” “Why …………… but who is Meryl(?).” Mili spoke to Adriano Velacchio at length and told him everything. He told Mili to inform Carl immediately, he is in Oxford. Mili spoke to Carl and both ran to the spot where Meryl and Shane had pushed Gabriela into the waters. Carl took a boat and told Mili to keep mum.  Carl saw an old man at a distance in the night taking a silhouette on his shoulders haltingly and with great effort. Frusco Daniil was an old man in his seventies. He was coming home from the Grand Cemetery, where he used to work. Daniil had to support his ailing wife and a son, Derek, whose both legs were amputated after an accident.                                                       Carl helped Gabriela reach Frusco’s house.   “Boss, Gabriela is safe. She is being nursed by an excellent family of Frusco Daniil out in the woods. I have got hold of a doctor and she has given heavy dose of morphine, she is stable.” “Very good. Please stay with Gaby and tell her to remain in Frusco’s house till I come personally to pick her up. The rest I’d be telling you in a minute”, Vilecchio signed off with a sigh of relief. “Ok, boss.” AFTER THE EXECUTION OF MERYL AND RAHUL Adriano Vilecchio sent Frusco Daniil and his son to Walter Reed Military Hospital in Bethesda, Maryland for the best prosthetic legs for his son Derek . He sent an aide with Frusco, who would be accompanying him and his son and would stay at the hospital until Derek recovered fully. Colonel John Bryan would take care of Derek. Gabriela Ballatini  was airlifted to an unknown place in Australia, away from the teeming humdrum. She needed rest and good health. She was going to be a mother  soon. She settled in Australia with a new life and with a new identity. Gaby had left Oxford  at the request of her father. Vilecchio hugged his daughter, “darling, you don’t worry. Those wicked people are dead.”   Carl took Frusco’s wife to Rome, she would be undergoing treatment under Vilecchio’s watch.   Mellanie Stone went to MIT to pursue her dream. She kept visiting Gabriela and often went to Rome spending time with Grandpa.   Prikly Stone remained in London. She was heading the Insurance Office and made a name of herself! Disclaimer: All characters in this article are imaginary and have no resemblance to any person(s) dead or alive.

EARLIER. MUMBAI 1941. It took two years for Meryl Reetherspoone to visit India again, now as Meryl Reetherspoone Dexter, wife of Bill Dexter – Tutor of English at Queens College. During regular visits to Queens College, Adela,  Meryl’s mother, chanced upon different teachers at the school. Bill Dexter was a sweet personality, Adela believed, and would be the right guy for Meryl, she thought. A meeting was arranged and Meryl agreed to the marriage as she knew her mother had little time with her - the cancer was aggressive and the doctors found no hope. Next day Meryl went to the Ballard Pier. It is known that Bombay Port Trust reclaimed 22 acres of land at Ballard Estate between 1914 and 1918, Ballard Estate was named after Colonel J.A. Ballard, a founder of the Mumbai Port Trust, which constructed the Port and Ballard Pier. Meryl was fascinated with the efforts at the Pier and she would love to know the endeavour her fellow Englishmen would have put to increase business from this seemingly important Port. But to her consternation, Meryl was greeted with contempt at the Port with a large, angry crowd uttering abuses for the English and demanded they leave India immediately. It turned out that earlier in the day, one Indian worker at the port was manhandled and subsequently killed  by an English police officer. She shouted at Bill and told to return immediately as the crowd was increasingly becoming restive. All of a sudden, an Indian officer, with khakis on, strode quickly towards Meryl, “Mrs. Dexter – no need to worry, I’m in charge and the situation would be fully under control in no time. Please be my guest and I’ll be honoured if you have faith in me”. Meryl was struck by the confidence and power of his personality. Standing at almost six feet with bright eyes Rahul Singh was easy with his English and had an assured gait, Meryl felt, which was quite often not found among these people !! Meryl would silently study the handsome Rahul and the expert way of him to arrange things. Shane was happy she enjoyed the company of Rahul – he often led her to different sites around the cave, sometimes holding her soft hands as she slipped through rough lanes muttered with stone and silt !! Meryl was immensely happy when Shane Gough arranged a tour to the Barabar caves. These caves are the oldest surviving rock cut case in India, situated on the eastern stretches of town of Gaya. The caves are placed in the twin hills of Barabar and Nagarjuni.   Shane had arranged for Rahul Singh as the safety and escorting officer for the tour, knowing Meryl was very fond of Rahul. Slowly she came close to Rahul and in one swift move hugged him tightly. The cave had become lonely then and Bill was outside with Shane – both were busy arranging food and niceties.   Meryl would not let go of Rahul as he planted a passionate kiss on Meryl’s lips, so profound was the togetherness that time stopped there for a while as if enjoying the love both had for each other.   The next morning Meryl found an express telegram on her table,  her mother had passed away as she could not brave the dreaded disease. Meryl was required immediately in England, the travel plans would have to be done quickly – Meryl had to reach in time for the funeral.   She moved swiftly, summoned Shane Gough and told him to arrange tickets, seeing Meryl distraught with pain and grief, Shane assured he would inform Rahul about the plans and after sometime request Rahul if he was willing to pay a visit to Meryl in England !!                                                                   Meryl had to leave Rahul behind ! Maybe next time Meryl would come alone, Bill had to be on his own, almost surely, she felt, to tread a fresh path with Rahul, for a fresh journey into the soft lanes and muddy roads of her beloved India!!                                                                                   Over time, can Rahul reach out to his dearest Meryl? PRESENT DAY, ROME, ITALY. JANUARY 1946. Rahul Singh had risen through the ranks to become Lieutenant Colonel in Indian Army. He was to be drafted in the Air Force for his flying skills. Chris Bakes, his boss was very pleased with his performance. When Rahul wanted to go to Italy for ten days Chris had to say yes. Rahul had lost his mother when he was five, he remembered Stephanie  playing with him on week days, Mom was very kind and caring. Rahul’s father, a businessman had married Stephanie; Akarshak Singh was tall, handsome and Stepahanie Giovanna liked his honesty  and sincerity. After Stephanie’s death Rahul moved to India with his father who did well as an entrepreneur in Bombay’s busy business life. When Rahul reached Castelmezzano  it was evening. He took a small inn for the night, next morning he would be travelling to his mother’s ancient house. It took him less than forty minutes to reach the small, beautiful two roomed “Paradiso”. He could reminisce the joys and sorrows he shared with Mom and Dad, Mom always cheering everyone, Dad would come late; it took a while to settle on the dinner table with cheese, wine – the primo  would be risotto with meat sauce, fruits. Dad would be taking sausages and poultry in secondo. They would all settle for a good movie before going to bed !! In next couple of days Rahul would be in Rome before he reached London to meet Meryl! Gabriela Ballatini was ten the first time she held a piano, twenty-eight before she found love. She knew it would be for keeps; nothing could take its place. Rahul was playing billiards in Palazzo Manfredi bar when Gabriela dropped in with her best friend, Esther. It was instantaneous coup de foudre, though later even she didn't understand why. It was something about the sheer presence of the man. She fell for him on the spot. With a cigarette glued to his lower lip, eyes half closed in rapt concentration, Rahul played billiards with a quite extraordinary skill. Gabriela, very sporty herself, responded to talent; this guy was good. As the session ended; he rose and stretched, dismissed the audience with a curt nod and made way for the disco. That summer “Five Minutes More” were topping the charts and the room was now filled with Frank Sinatra’s rasping voice. The year was 1946, the start of the Perry Como era. Daughter of  Adriano Vilecchio, a shipping magnate,   Gabriela had a Doctorate  from Magdalen College at Oxford due to her quite outstanding performance in maths. That and her all round proficiency in music which had earned her additional ensorcellment at the college, inevitably asking her to join the college Chair, liking the fact that she also taught music. She was in Rome for a month-long vacation !! With her self-assurance and keenness for study, she took as a challenge whatever she tried. So, when she encountered Rahul Singh, she did not fumble her cue. He had no idea who she was, of course, but she walked straight up and addressed him boldly. “Hi”. “And who are you?”, Rahul’s eyes were blank. “Gabriela Ballatini,” she said without a flicker. And took what she felt was a natural place by his side. Gabriela had cracked maths by the age of two, helped by the numbers in the air that floated perpetually  round her. Once she had tried to explain to her dad but realised from his blank incomprehension that she could never make him understand. She always got full marks in tests, the only thing that mattered, she felt. “It's obvious really,” was all she could say when baffled teachers asked how she did it. From whence had come this astonishing skill in a child who could still barely read?                                                       Whatever it was, it worked for Gabriela.   She sailed through her education. The music, too, was an extra gift, not only the piano but her voice as well. A genetic throwback, perhaps, from the past had touched her with great distinction. For the first four years, as an only child, she was the focus of her parents' attention. They, aware of how bright she was, carefully monitored her mental growth and, when the flair for maths emerged, paid for a private tutor who was similarly dazzled. Magdalen was everything Gabriela required to stretch her intellectually. She had chosen to study pure mathematics as a subject on its own. It was usual to combine it with something but, due to her startling precocity, the faculty allowed her to have her own way. A future Nobel laureate, perhaps; an extra coup for the college that she was female. She researched passionately,  as she always had, at music as well as at maths. The piano  enabled her to unwind, when at last she got round to joining, provided a social life of sorts which took her away from her books. Music helped her to transcend; when she closed her eyes and relaxed her brain, she heard it in vivid colours.   Couple of days had passed and she badly needed to see Rahul again but the only place she knew where to find him was at Rick's Club, where he seemed to be a regular feature. Tuesdays and Fridays from nine pm on she was fairly certain of finding him playing, though it meant the risk of staying out late. Normally law-abiding, Gabriela was prepared to take that risk, although usually he was surrounded by players on the billiards table and showed no sign of remembering who she was.  Nursing her last drink for the night, she decided she would carefully work her way towards him, then speed off before the game was closed.   He possessed a wide array of admirers, and could play a game on request  from across the board. He seemed to be mainly stuck with male friends which was weird. It was 1 am in the morning Gabriela knocked at Rahul’s hotel room. Anger pumped his blood. "What the hell do you want?" "To be honest, nothing." "Says every thief who sneaks,"   he snarled, trying to shrug off his anger, but it was of no use. A corner of her lips tipped. "Do I look like a thief, Prince?" He ran his gaze down her, noticing for the first time the smart cut of her white dress, the bright red pocket square, and the shiny, polished cindrellas. "I know I am." He looked at her in disbelief. Bloody, arrogant woman.   "I should have slapped you when I had the chance,"   he spat out. "Dreary lady." "So volatile. So sexy."   She shifted both his hands in one of hers and stared at him. Her free hand caressed his cheek. A wave ran through him.   She saw it. "Interesting and so very unexpected," she said softly, her eyes never leaving him. " I really am a guest here, Prince."   He opened his mouth to shout, but she clamped a hand on his lips.   "Your screaming will only draw attention, and that's not what I want. I've already invested enough time on you." Her face came closer. "The problem is I've rather enjoyed this encounter...a lot."   Her hands tightened around his. "I like having you in my arms like this."   The way her words sounded, the sudden predatorial gleam in her eyes  - all of it made his blood sizzle. He pushed an inch closer to her, and her heart drummed in her ribcage. Her skin was suddenly too warm. She felt like she was losing control of her mind and body. Like he was casting a spell on her. It was too much. He was too much. She had to live inside him. Shutting her eyes, she slumped in his arms. His hand fell from her bosom. His hold on her tightened. Using that to her advantage, she butted her head with his jaw. His head flew back. The top of her own head rang in pain, but she ignored the sharp sting. Pushing him, she went toward the room leading to the bed but he couldn't let her go like that. He clasped her shoulder and turned her around. Caught by surprise, she stumbled and fell against his chest. He gripped her ample bosom in one hand and ran his fingers to her underwear. The shock in her gaze gave way to something else. Something potent and deeper. The very air around them was charged. With a sudden jerk, he hauled her closer. She was plastered against him now, her breasts crushed to his chest, her hands splayed on his shoulders, her mouth a mere inch from his. Her scent washed over him. It was soft, subtle...intriguing... like her. Something shook loose inside his chest. All of a sudden, he ached to learn her scent, to press her closer and smelled  the softness of her mouth. Her hands dug into his shoulders. His hands curled into her waist, unable to release her. She stared at him as if she, too, was caught in whatever madness had descended upon him. Her eyes warmed, and she let out a shaky breath. Rahul Singh and Gabriela Ballatini made wild love the whole week, Rahul postponed his journey to London and Gabriela had told his dad she had found love of her life ! Adriano Vilecchio had listened to her daughter’s delight with care. The very little he had known of Rahul, he found him a pleasing man and handsome, something Gabriela had fallen for. He would be happy to see her daughter settle with Rahul and looked forward to the day when both would get married. Vilecchio was the ruler of an empire larger than most countries. He had no title or official standing but he regularly bought and sold prime ministers, ambassadors  and kings. Vilecchio was one of the two wealthiest men in the world and his power was legendary. He owned the largest fleet of cargo ships, two airlines, newspapers, banks, steel mills, gold mines - his tentacles were inextricably woven throughout the woof and warp of the economic fabric of dozens of countries. He had one of the most important art collections in the world, a fleet of yachts and a dozen apartments scattered around the globe. Adriano Vilecchio was above medium height, with a barrel and broad shoulders. His features were swarthy, and he had a broad Greek nose and olive black eyes that blazed with intelligence. He was not interested in clothes, yet he was always on the list of best-dressed men and it was rumoured that he owned over five hundred suits. He had his clothes made where ever he happened to be. His suits  were tailored by Hawes Curtis in London, his shirts  by Brioni in Rome, shoes  by Daliet Grande in Paris and ties from a dozen countries. It was five in the evening on Monday when Gabriela arrived at the reception counter of Hotel Palazzo Manfredi. “Buona sera madame.” “Good evening, Francoise! Can you please connect room number 101.” “Yes Sure. Madame, L’ospite aveva fatto il check-out la mattina!”   Madam, the guest had checked out in the morning today.   Gabriela was stunned and angry. Where had Rahul gone(?). They had to visit the museum Galleria Borghese at six  followed by a stinging opera performance The Barber of Seville by Gioachino Rossini. Gabriela frantically wanted to speak to Rahul but she could not.   Vilecchio was in a business, meeting delegations from France and South Africa when his phone rang. “Yes, darling.” And his face went red, he stopped for a moment and looked at the guests. “Please excuse me, I will have to take this call.” Vilecchio was at the tarmac when he heard Gabriela crying hysterically, “Papa, Rahul is nowhere available, I had tried him a hundred times, he has checked out in the morning and left a note he would speak to me as soon as he is free. It is nine o’ clock papa and I am not able to speak to Rahul ………”   The phone went on as Gabriela cried her heart out. Vilecchio never wanted this to happen. He would make amends.   “Don’t worry Gaby, I am in a meeting. I promise you I will find Rahul. Now stop crying!” Rahul touched down London at 1 pm on Monday afternoon by the British Airways flight. Meryl was waiting for him at the airport, she took him straight to her house, she had eagerly waited for him, how anxious she was when he announced  he would be coming a week later.   “Hi sweety,” Rahul announced as he folded Meryl into a deep hug. Rahul was happy Meryl had recovered after the horrible accident in her house, her entire body was in flames due to fire. Rahul had arranged the best doctor in London for her plastic surgery. The medical procedure had gone so well that after the surgery Meryl looked petite and even more beautiful whenever she wore the black wig on. He had bought her excellent wigs from around the globe!   “What was the work, Rahul, that kept you away from me for so long?” “Darling, it is too small for you to spend sleepless nights on. I had some unfinished work.” “Ah!” “I am famished, I need lots of food and rest. And I need you !!”. Rahul was eager to stop Meryl from undue questioning.   After dinner both made love. Meryl was very happy to get Rahul in her arms. She had to find out what went wrong in Rome, Rahul was not his usual self, he was not the same Rahul when they had made love; something was amiss.   She decided she would tell her office to find out the details of a number she got hold of from Rahul’s army uniform. It had to be done silently and quickly! Vileccchio told Carl Bruno to find out everything about Rahul Singh, from his roots in India to his place of interest in London! “I want it done in a week,” Vilecchio roared.   Bruno was the most trusted aide of Vilecchio. Carl had served the German Secret Service before joining Vilecchio and was very efficient in espionage and counter espionage activities which Vilecchio had to undertake to govern his sprawling business.   Rahul went to India after a few days, he had already overshot his leave by a week and his boss would be shouting mad at him!   Meryl landed in Leonardo da Vinci airport  few days later with Shane Gough. She was surprised Shane had an uncle in Rome. Richard Thornton worked in a brewery  south of Rome and Associated Breweries had provided a beautiful house for Richard, Olivia and their two children!! The next ten days would be crucial for Meryl as she would definitely meet few  people of interest, she needed to know everything about Rahul’s stay in Rome. Meryl decided to move to a hotel as Richard’s house was too small to accommodate six people. Olivia was a wonderful lady and it took lot of reasoning to convince Richard and Olivia that moving out in a hotel in Rome would best serve their interest. Palazzo Manfredi was a decent hotel at the heart of Rome and Shane had booked two large rooms for them. The next few days were very important for Meryl !! It was 10 in the morning Meryl was sipping coffee in her room when the intercom rang.   “Good morning, madam, I’m calling from reception desk, am I speaking to Ms. Meryl Reetherspoone?” “Yes.” “Thank you, ma’am, there is a call from London, will you be taking the call?” “Yes, yes, Put me in.” Meryl was anxiously waiting for the call form her London office. “Ok, ma’am. Just a minute.” “Hi, Meryl, this is Prikly from London. How is Rome, please bring lots of memories and my basket of chocos from Cross and Smears, don’t forget.” “Ok, Prikly, now tell me if you have anything to say apart from chocos” - both laughed heartily.   What Prikly Stone spoke for the rest of ten minutes was all Meryl needed to get a start. “The number you gave me belongs to Gabriela Ballatini, daughter of shipping magnate Adriano Vilecchio. More details are not with me at the moment. I would find out as soon as I can.” “Thanks, Prikly, it will do for the moment. And I’m coming with lots of chocos for you, don’t worry!”                                                                              The line went off. When Meryl and Shane touched down at Mumbai a week later it was 10 in the evening. Rahul had arranged two rooms at Hotel Ritz, Meryl was tired, she needed good food and sound sleep. The next morning with Rahul would be fun!! She would tell him to choose between she and Gabriela and in case he refused her she would go back to London the very next day.   Gabriela Ballatini had almost finished her vacation and she was desperate to re-ignite her time with Rahul, she kept on saying to herself that it was very very bad of Rahul to leave her in the lurch, she was too proud a lady to accept the snub – it would be a failure of her conquest !!     Joining University  would keep her busy and she was looking forward to the annual function in a month at the University. The passing out ceremony of the current batch of maths geniuses would be wonderful, she thought. A lot of them would go to Princeton or MIT for doctorals and they needed Gabriela’s assist dearly.   “Oh, Gabriela, you are a genius, this is your world; she muttered to herself!”                                                           But she was unable to forget Rahul. Next morning Shane had to go to Bombay port for some urgent work. Rahul reached by 11 am and had buttered toast and coffee with Meryl. He was the usual ebullient self ; he hugged Meryl and kissed her good morning. “Good morning, sweety, the night was good?” “No night is good without you Rahul.” “Ah, I know dear. Don’t worry, the nights would be good, very good. It would be amazing, darling.” “I know, Rahul. The nights would be amazing, just like those amazing nights you spent with Gabriela,” Meryl glanced at Rahul nonchalantly. “Gabriela?”, Rahul was speechless for a second but flashed back a smile immediately. “What do you know about Gabriela?” Meryl shot back with rage, “Yes Gabriela, and don’t try to fool me this time. I knew you had many flings with girls but I kept silent because those were times I was naïve and was hopelessly in love with you. She came close to Rahul, “I’m still in love with you Rahul, tell me the whole thing was a joke, a bad dream!” “I, … Meryl please control yourself and stop shouting. I can explain.” Rahul did not know what to tell.   “Then please explain Lieutenant Colonel Rahul Singh, did you sleep with Gabriela Ballatini? I want an answer right now.” “Yes, I slept with Gabriela, and it all happened so fast that I didn’t have time to react.” “How funny”, Meryl was fuming, she looked so nice in her curled wig, “you had time to sleep with that bitch and couldn’t find time to react?”  Meryl was hysterical. Rahul grabbed Meryl tightly and kissed her hard on her fuming lips. Meryl was still, he felt so warm and looked even more handsome. He lifted Meryl with his strong arms and placed her softly on the sparkling white bed. He unrobed her slowly, her naked body was still very beautiful. Rahul had never seen a naked body as beautiful as Meryl’s.   Meryl wanted Rahul badly. Both made intense love for the whole afternoon. Meryl was stroking his hair with affection, how dearly she loved Rahul. Rahul finished his tea in bed and kissed Meryl. He told the entire thing, how Gabriela stomped into his room in Italy and made the most of the weak moments they were in. “I’m really very sorry Meryl what happened. Honestly, she came out of nowhere, I want to get rid of those nights as bad dream. We should settle down quickly, I want you to marry me, I honestly do.” “Ok, you liar. My crush on you has not waned even after your many nights of improbity. I will marry you but on one condition.” “What condition.” “Gabriela has to be finished off.” “Meryl!!” “You don’t worry Rahul, let me take care of this.”                                                               DECEMBER 15, 1946. ENGLAND.   It was a bright sunny morning at Oxford.   Gabriela had waited for this day – the passing out ceremony of the mathematics graduates followed by a get together dinner with students and their guardians. Meryl Reetherspoone was present that evening at the Private Hall of Oxford. Mellanie Stone was graduating out in maths from Magdalen College and Prikly had requested Meryl to be there for her daughter, she was in hospital recovering from a bout of pneumonia!                                                   Meryl had grabbed that chance jubilantly.   Mellanie Stone was a very bright student of Magdalen, she was brilliant at maths and a personal favourite of Gabriela;   Mili  – as she called out Melanie affectionately – was heading for MIT  (Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Cambridge, USA) for post-graduation and research in space science. Gabriela had put a strong recommendation at MIT for Mili, she would get enrolled in MIT Schwarzman College of Computing after a month. Gaby Ma’am was everything to her, a local guardian of sorts.   “Hello, Meryl. Welcome to Oxford.” Mellanie greeted Meryl with a smile. “Hello, darling. Sad Prikly couldn’t come, she’ll be alright don’t bother for that.” Meryl smiled    matter-of-factly. “Yeah, sure she will. Can I get you a drink?” “It’s ok dear. Who is the lady you were listening to with rapt attention?”, Meryl asked. “Oh, she’s Gaby ma’am. Our maths teacher.” “How lovely. If you get around her, will you introduce me to her?” “Sure. In a minute. There she is, you wait here, I’ll come with ma’am.” “Thanks.” Mellanie Stone was watching Gabriela intensely. Her teacher was mingling with the students, and their guardians, freely but something was bothering Gaby Ma’am. What was it(?). She could not make out .  After a month she would be leaving the beautiful premises of the college and head to MIT; she was averse to going to US but Gaby ma’am was relentless in her advice.   “Mili, what’s stopping you?” “I don’t know ma’am.” “I know. You have to leave Albert behind.” Albert Trescothick was studying with Mili at Magdalen and planned to join his father’s business in the automobile industry. “I have to leave you ma’am”, she started crying. “Oh, dear Mili, don’t be a child. I’d be there for you, don’t worry darling. I had planned sponsored lectures at MIT, we’d meet then and would have merrymaking, bunfight, beanfeast and blast!!” Mili started laughing. “Ma’am, I need to introduce you to Meryl.” “Ah, I see. Have we met before(?).” “No, ma’am, she is filling the shoes of mom, she would be over her pneumonia in a couple of days.” “I’m sorry, Mili. Prikly would be fine; I had to meet her tomorrow.” “Sure, ma’am.” “Ok, let’s go.” “Hi, this is Meryl. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Meryl shook hands. “Mili is a dear student, I’ve huge plans for her. How’s Prikly, by the way”, Gabriela replied smilingly. “She is fine, will come home in a couple of days.” “Excellent. Let’s have something to celebrate Mili’s success.” Gabriela’s throat had dried!   At this point Meryl stared at Gabriela and smiled, “Gabriela, can I speak to you alone for a moment please(?).” “Yes, sure. Let’s get some fresh air”. Gabriela led her to the open paved tarmac on the rear side of the hall. They approached the end of tarmac facing the underbridge when Meryl snapped. “How often have you fucked Rahul Singh”, Meryl snorted. “Rahul……….”, Gabriela gasped, unable to speak a word for a few seconds. “How do you know Rahul(?).” “You bitch, you had planned to snatch Rahul away from me. Rahul is mine, never ever dream of getting close to him”, Meryl was furious. Gabriela, now in her elements, smiled wickedly, “oh, you dumb lady. Rahul is not happy sleeping with you, he never enjoys fucking you, your insipid, lustreless body is revolting, your foul, putrid smell nauseates him ………………”, she kept on telling lies after lies not knowing a word what was she mumbling. Rahul had never mentioned Meryl to her, who’s this Meryl(?). “You scum of a bitch”, Meryl roared with a shriek, Gabriela stopped her midway announcing, “and I’m marrying Rahul.” The words left Meryl dumbfounded. She came running towards Gabriela and slammed her boots fiercely with her right leg under her belly. So powerful was the impact that Gabriela fell to the ground moaning. Meryl quickly called for Shane. Mili saw from far corner of the hall a dark silhouette dragging someone and pushing it down to the waters of the underbridge.                                                                                   She ran inside.   Half an hour had passed when Melanie saw Meryl chatting with other guests at the hall. She was terrified with the whole incident, she had decided she would not tell anybody about it.   Melanie cried inconsolably in her bed that night. Her dear Gaby ma’am had been ruthlessly murdered!                                                                  What could be the reason(?).                                                                ROME. JANUARY 10, 1947. Five hours before the murder trial of Meryl Reetherspoone and Rahul Singh was to begin, Room 33 in the Italian Supreme Court of Cassation in Rome was overflowing with spectators.  The courthouse had an enormous grey building that took up an entire square block on University Street. Of the thirty courtrooms in the building, only three rooms were reserved for criminal trials: Rooms 21, 30 and 33. Number 33 had been chosen for this trial because it was the largest. The corridors outside Room 33 were jammed and police in uniforms were stationed at the two entrances to control the crowd. The sandwich stand in the corridor was sold out in the first five minutes, and there was a long line in front of the telephone booth. Georgio Phillipousis, the Chief of Police, was personally supervising the security arrangements. Newspaper photographers were everywhere and Phillipousis managed to have his photograph taken with pleasing frequency. Passes to the courtroom were at a premium. For weeks members of the Italian judiciary had been besieged with requests from friends and relatives. Insiders who were able to secure them bartered them in exchange for other favours or sold them to the jackals who were scalping them for as high as five hundred liras apiece.   Courtroom 33 on the second floor of the courthouse was musty and vintage, the arena of thousands of legal battles that had taken place over the years. The room was about forty feet wide and three hundred feet long. The seats were divided into three rows, six feet apart, with nine wooden benches to each row. At the front of the courtroom was a raised dais behind a six-foot polished mahogany partition with high-backed leather chairs for the seven presiding judges. The centre chair was for the President of the Court and above it hung a large painting on marble saying La Legge E’ Uguale Per Tutti   – The Law Is Same For Everyone - reflecting a section of the courtroom. In front of the dais was the witness stand, a small raised platform on which was fixed a reading lectern with a wooden tray to hold papers.  On the lectern in gold leaf was the crucifix, Jesus on the cross with two of his disciples by his side. Against the far wall was the jury box, filled now with its ten jurors. On the far left was the box where the accused sat. In front of the defendants' box was the lawyers' table.                                                                                                                                              …………. to be continued. Will Gabriela get justice(?).   Please visit the next article to know more about Gabriela, Meryl and Rahul Singh. !! Disclaimer: All characters in this article are imaginary and have no resemblance to any person(s) dead or alive.

Mauritius 2011. Anthony Dezel was very happy her 20-year-old daughter Liza had graduated with A-grade in Economics from London. She was coming home in a week’s time and the family had arranged a big party to celebrate Liza’s success. Anthony had received a handsome amount arranging for the Indian tourists Firdaus and Nisith, back in December 2009, that was a good outing for everybody !! But not for Anthony Dezel. It was a memorable evening for Liza. Mom and Dad were so happy. After all the guests had gone Liza kissed everybody goodnight and went to bed. Early morning she woke up with a shriek, her heart pounding. Mom was screaming – “please call the ambulance Liza, fast,” Liza ran down the stairs and rushed to Dad’s room. She froze!! Dad was on the bed motionless; Mom was crying hysterical. The ambulance took him to nearby Wellkin Hospital. “I’m Mrs Dezel, Good Morning Doctor.” “Good morning, Mrs Dezel, please be patient, we are there with Mr. Dezel, don’t worry, everything will be fine.” “Thank you, Doctor.” After thirty minutes the Doctor came and announced “Mr. Dezel had died due to strychnine poisoning in his food. The body will be sent for post mortem. Please wait for my call. We are very sorry for your loss Mrs. Dezel.” Who killed Anthony Dezel? It had been nearly sixty days Azim had parked himself in London, he was close to finishing his last assignment from Rafiq before Tracy could meet up. Britain Finance Secretary’s two children were at the Harrow School on Wednesday when Azim and Shaukat had planned to ram the truck with explosives  into the school. There was a tip off, from an unknown source, to the office of Home Secretary, Lorraine Elizabeth, describing the exact timing and place of explosion! Richie Drubb was in his office and he was not told by Lorraine about the crisis his children could get into; instructions went quick and sharp to the    Head-Security – the explosion was thirty minutes off and Grizlane Strauf picked up the most efficient officer, Gary Drewmore, into the pack and ordered immediate execution of shoot-at-sight of the terrorists !! The quick wit of Gary and his men efficiently followed the truck positioning backed up from Lorraine’s office, it was travelling on the opposite direction to the traffic flow and Gary took a U-turn to be behind the truck. Gary had only fifteen minutes to finish the operation !!  He quickly sent additional help on the opposite direction, the truck had sensed trouble and started mangling cars on its way to school. Gary’s car tried to intercept but failed, the driver was not able to cross and come in front of the truck. In no time, armed personnel surrounded the truck and incessant firing continued at the front for ten minutes. The horns of the truck kept blaring sending the traffic into a tizzy. Gary shouted to stop firing, “Move forward two of you, one target is definitely dead, start firing at the slightest movement.” There was no movement. Shaukat had died from bullet injuries; Azim fled the place and the police ran to nearby high-rises to fish him out. Tracy landed at Heathrow airport in wee hours of Sunday, Rafiq briefed her on Azim’s brush with death and advised her to lay low for a week and wait for further instructions. She had no choice but to hold back shopping at the Harrods for a week! Gary Drewmore had worked for US Navy Seals for ten years; he was in London away from the humdrum of the NSWC (Naval Special Warfare Command).  Gary was always fond of London and worked with different counter intelligence agencies on a free agent basis. Burt Foker at Langley (CIA Headquarters, Virginia, USA) spoke recently with Gary but he was not eager to come to US. Commander Sheila Ancellotii, Head of NSWC, had spoken very highly of Gary at MI5 and the UK Defence and Home Ministries were eager to draft him as a regular – Gary had refused that agreement to the astonishment of many. Lorraine Elizabeth had particularly asked for Gary; she had been following closely the events that led to the killing of the driver at the Harrow school site! Lorraine was very impressed with Gary’s work and a confidential note from 10 Downing Street had indicated the high-profile Indian journalist, who had been holidaying with her husband in Mauritius, had escaped death. She was awash with excitement – could she wait for further notes from PM(?). A meeting was arranged at the Home Secretary’s office and Gary Drewmore was drafted in to work with the Home Secretary as there was a risk to her life, MI5 had been talking to Lorraine for quite some time now. Firdaus Kenny was alive !! It was a beautiful evening in Mauritius on December 23, 2009, the sun just trying to set, when Alex Shepherd ventured into the sea with his tiny boat. The last few days were uneventful for Alex, his daughter Jerry was ill and Alex wanted some fresh air out along the waters. The evening had not gone far enough when Alex noticed a patch of red water not very far away from him, something was adrift, was it a huge log(?) he mumbled. Getting closer, what he saw was terrible! A young woman, in her mid-forties, was floating, the stillness of her reminded him of Broja, his wife – she was drowned in the sea a year back; he quickly took the boat along and pulled her, young Jones was by his side. Alex drove the boat swiftly to the shore; it was dark when they reached the nearby hospital. Firdaus had multiple injuries; timely interception could save her life. Two bullets had pierced, one into her bottom right leg, the other missing her lungs by a whisker. The dog bite had been dangerous, the poison had spread into her entire body. She had multiple tetanus shots and wound irrigation. The Doctor had put her under heavy doses of penicillin. Alex had, on the boat, used some hydrogen peroxide to her stomach but that was not working, she needed enough of chlorhexidine infusions !! The Mauritian police hastily got hold of Firdaus and the hospital, the message was immediately wired to the office of the Indian Embassy at Mauritius. The High Commissioner, Anil Mathur,  spoke on the hotline to Kanwaljit Singh Mann. Kanwaljit was on the next chartered flight to Mauritius !! Kanwaljit was a decorated officer of Indian Intelligence Wing (IIW) and had served the Department in many covert and overt operations. His ability to see things beyond was exemplary and was on the good books of his Director General, Krishnan Subramanium. He met the doctor in Mauritius and with his help came to know from Firdaus the details of the horrible attack on her life, she was not allowed to speak much, Kanwaljit thanked the doctor and asked him not to move Firdaus anywhere till he received direct orders from him. Her life was still in danger. He then spoke to Bhupesh Kumar – his colleague in Delhi, “Go to 13th Floor, take a bath, then we can have dinner together.” The phone call was coded, it meant – go to United Kingdom - it had 13 letters, meet up with Lorraine Elizabeth – bath meant elizabeth. We can discuss during dinner time. December 2011. It was very cold in London, Azim was walking to a nearby phone booth when a young lad handed a chit, it was written in French – vous etes du material utilise maintenant – you are used material now. Azim ran a quick eye around, there was no one! Azim had very less time to live. Lorraine was informed Kanwaljit Mann was in London. They met after office. “Hi, Lorrie, how are you, quite some time! You’ve put on weight, haven’t you(?)” “Yes Kan, long time. Had to, you’ve to carry a large weight on your shoulders.” Both laughed. “I’ve been on it for a while, this Mauritius thing, wanted some good lead on it.” Kanwaljit was curious as he poured some hot coffee. "Kan, you don’t worry a penny, I’ve prepared a file for you, take it. The two guys are here in London, I guess, the Harrow attack was their doing; the main man is in hiding, I’m working with Gary, let’s see, hmn(?),” Lorraine smiled. “Lorrie, I’ve confirmed inputs one of them is a woman, and she has been tasked to look after you. She is operating with a British passport, Nikita Downing, run a check on her and let me know.” “I will.” Next morning, Lorraine had to hasten things up; she was already late. Anti-Immigration Bill  would be on the table at Commons. She had a furious speech in store, something had to be done, she muttered. The PM would be meeting Gary Drewmore during tea and she wanted to tell  many things to Gary!! He looked very handsome, he sat in front of her and gazed blankly towards the street. What on earth is he looking when I am around! He had to take care of me alright but how do I like a man who’s sitting like a stone(?), she mumbled. Lorraine’s belly did a fluttering, sickening roll. Why, of all the men on the planet, did it have to be him? Embarrassment filled her like hot, sticky gunk. She'd first met Gary quite a while ago, probably in Virginia, when he'd provided security for a ball she had attended. He was former military, and worked for a private security firm in London. The moment she'd first laid eyes on him, her body had malfunctioned. Even now, she remembered the hot ripple  that had passed through her when he had introduced himself. She pressed her head back against the headrest. It took no effort to dream what he looked like without clothes, probably because she would think of him every day since. He was strong, five feet ten, with broad shoulders and an easy gait  that probably reminded of Daniel Craig !! Oh my God, what I’m saying – she mumbled to herself. His dark hair was shaved close to his scalp, and his skin was beautiful and sun kissed. Strong brows sat low over eyes that were a startling pale green. Lorraine’s dream was smashed amid loud stuttering of bullets !! In a flash Gary Drewmore’s eyes sparked like a panther! The car was getting riddled with gun shots, someone was trying to kill Lorraine – the sniper was spraying 50  caliber rounds on the right side of the car, not getting hold of the left side where Lorraine was seated – it was a right-hand wheel and the car was fully armoured. One shot shattered the front glass of the car. The driver was shot in the head, the blood sprinkling the left side of the impregnable limousine. Gary, with a sharp jerk, took the wheel and stationed near the road, Lorraine was hysterical and could not control herself – her white jacket was smeared in blood. Gary, in a flash, got out of the car and tried to locate the high-rise the sniper was positioned in. Lorraine was asked to dip her whole body down beneath and she did exactly what was told to her. Who wanted to get rid of Lorraine Elizabeth(?). Gary drove the car keeping the sniper’s gun on the right and pushed the Mercedes into a narrow street between two buildings. The sniper had lost the angles to blow the car. Kanwaljit wanted to see Lorraine but decided against it. Sipping his wine from the balcony of his rented flat overlooking the Thames was a sight to behold! He picked up the phone – there was a call from Delhi. He ran down to his car and frantically dialled a number, took the details and rushed towards Heathrow. He had to catch the first tube to Central London !! Azim bought an Oyster card from Heathrow and boarded a train. It was crowded and Azim took a window seat, it was past ten in the evening and he managed to get a pack of hamburgers with coke. Central London would be an hour and Rafiq would be waiting at Boyds Grill and Wine Bar. His accommodation had been changed and coming Sunday he would be flying back to Pakistan with Rafiq. They would speak to Tracy, who was in hiding after the Home Secretary mishap – she should not have missed it she thought, it was denting her power to bargain! Kanwaljit got into the train in time. When the train was halfway to London there was a warning instruction from the guard to all the travellers,“Dear passengers, your attention please. This is Sandrina Dust, the Guard of the train. You are requested to report any suspicious movement in the train immediately to the guard, the number is displayed on the screen. We have come to know that some terror activity would be taking place in the train.” Nice job by Sandrina, Kanwaljit thought. He quickly made a stroll on all the coaches and his expert eyes could spot three gentlemen winking strangely, one of them might be Azim. As the train approached central London a dozen police force encircled the train. Azim jumped the train from the opposite side and ran towards the elevator. Coming out of the station Kanwaljit saw Azim boarding a station wagon, with another person, the jeep was speeding away. Bhupesh was waiting in his car, Kanwaljit sprang on to it and sped towards the black jeep.  The streets of central London were thinning, time was close to 11.30 in the night. The station wagon raced south down a backcountry road through the hills of Stratford towards the Cambridge border, he saw the driver, a long-framed man, his sharp-featured face intense, the muscles of his jaw pulsating, his clear black eyes furious. Beside him sat Azim, the reddish glow of his auburn hair heightened by the dashboard lights. Bhupesh approached Azim from a parallel lane and as Azim saw him, he doubled the speed of the wagon. Suddenly, a red Hummer came galloping and tried to cross the intersection, Azim’s driver crashed the car into the Hummer. There was a loud, screeching sound, Azim’s car rolled several times before coming to a stop. Kanwaljit got out of his car, Bhupesh behind him. He saw the driver was dead and Azim was trying to say something in a grumpy voice, he was grievously injured. Kanwaljit shot him in his head twice, lit a cigarette, waited for a while and strolled towards his car. It was 1.30 am in the morning and he was ravenously hungry !! Lorraine Elizabeth was hugely indebted to Gary for saving her life. The press conference was intense and Lorraine proudly stated the quick mind and chivalry of Gary – the one who saved her life. She confessed there aren’t many like him in the Home Ministry. Lorraine secretly longed for Gary and upon a note to the Head-Security it had been decided Gary would be housed in the same building as Lorraine to avert any further embarrassment !! She invited Gary in her room for tea! Lorraine saw Gary was behind her and she touched Gary’s hand softly. Gary was still for a few seconds enjoying the moment. Lorraine twisted herself towards Gary and kissed him. He kissed her back. Gary lifted his head and those gorgeous, pale-green eyes focused on her. She already knew that he was a man who missed nothing, not the smallest detail. He would know who the people were in the plot and the quickest way to get the culprit. Gary had nothing in mind, he was struck by the kiss. Boy(!), she was slender, but she had a shapely booty. She wasn't tall, but she wasn't short, either, and a lot of her height was all leg. He saw the blood stain on her left shoulder, like an ugly flower. "Let me see." "Um…" He pressed a finger to her chin and tilted her face up. "Let me take care of you." Lorraine bit her lip and nodded. She waved at her side. Gary pushed her coat open. He saw the slash in her dress on her left side. He probed it gently, even though his damn pulse was pounding hard. "I can't see well enough."  He eyed her dress. He didn't have a better option. He grabbed the hem and started pushing it up. She sucked in a breath. "What are you doing? You can't….." "I need to check how deep it is. I'm not letting you bleed out because you are shy." Lorraine looked out of the window. "Fine." He dragged the fabric up, revealing slim, toned legs. Heat ignited in his gut. He struggled to get a lock on it. Jesus, she is hurt. When he looked at her underskirt that had the same shade as her dress, it made his breath catch in his throat. He moved swiftly and had her hip uncovered. The cut wasn't bad. Air whistled through his teeth, he carefully touched it and watched the muscles in her belly clench. Such delicious golden skin under her clothes. "Cut isn't bad. Won't need stiches." "See, I told you." "Here." He opened the glove box and pulled out a small first aid kit. He took some gauze and pressed it to her side. "Hold that. After sometime we'll need to clean it." She shuddered and pulled her dress back down. Carefully, he pulled her belt back on. Lorraine’s eyes met his. "Thanks, Gary." He carried her straight into her bedroom and set her on the bed. "I'll grab a first aid kit. You strip." Lorraine jolted. "Strip?" He strode to the closet and pulled out a fluffy robe. "This will have to do until dinner arrives. I'll be right back."  He strode off the room. Well. Lorraine straightened and winced. She quickly slipped her coat and dress off. She thumbed the slash in the dress before tossing it over a chair. She'd just wrapped herself in the robe when Gary reappeared. Lorraine’s pulse did a crazy dance. He took up so much space, and somehow, that made her excruciatingly conscious of the fact that she was only wearing her bra and panties under the robe. Perched on the edge of the bed, she watched him fish around in the big first aid box. He ripped open some antiseptic wipes and gestured. Swallowing, she lay back and opened the bottom of the robe. The touch of his hand made her jump. "Sorry," he rumbled. "No, I'm sorry. This must be... uncomfortable for you."  Having to see her almost naked in her panties. She felt his gaze on her but didn't look. He kept wiping and she glanced at the mirror on the wall. Her belly tightened. All she could see was his dark head bent over her body. "I've seen injuries before," he said. "This doesn't bother me. I'm just pissed you got hurt. I shouldn't have let it happen." "Gary, it wasn't your fault. It came from nowhere catching everyone unawares!” He gripped her chin again, forcing her to meet his gaze. A dark, intense look crossed his face, like he was fighting something. "Have you looked in the mirror?" She made an annoyed sound. "I know what I look like." She shifted, and her robe gaped. It displayed the secret she kept well hidden - her navel piercing. Gary’s gaze fell on her belly and the purple amethyst in her piercing, and he froze. “Oh.” Her cheeks caught fire. She fumbled for the robe. What if he thought she was displaying herself on purpose? He reached out as well, but when she moved, his hand fell on her skin, right above her piercing. They both froze. His fingers moved over her skin and she felt the sensation right between her legs. She stifled a moan. His big hand practically spanned her belly. She looked up and she saw heat in his green eyes. Lorraine had found love in Gary; it was a triumphant moment for her – she would keep the trophy with her forever. Tracy was furious with herself; she had botched up Rafiq’s plans on Lorraine. She could not find ways of redemption and decided to go back to Germany after meeting Rafiq at lunch. Rafiq cajoled her and she looked in her elements after speaking to him. The next operation would take place in a week’s time but before that she had to meet some acquaintances. She had to be careful as Azim was dead and MI5 were on a lookout for her. She slept like a log the whole evening, the 10 pm meeting was very important. She was sure Anatoli Maxim would find a way! Anatoli Maxim was sipping wine at a nondescript restaurant in Clapton. Tracy was expected any moment, she had been told he would be at Clapton for thirty minutes only. He would walk off after 10.30. At 10.05 Tracy embarked from a bus, Clapton streets were lonely and she thanked Anatoli for earmarking a suburb location for the meeting. Another gentleman, with Anatoli, Andrey Ivolov, was from Moscow; Anatoli and Andrey were school chums, they had settled in UK for more than a decade. Rafiq had business interests with Anatoli and Andrey, Tracy knew they were fit for the job. The meeting lasted for 25 minutes and Tracy was at her hotel by midnight. Lorraine’s stock as Home Secretary went up sharply after the attack and she was determined to bounce back with a vengeance. She informed Gary next morning at 10.30 she had to reach the sprawling office of Save Us Forum, a very important meeting had been arranged by Group of Ministers and Lorraine was to lecture on “Effective Ways To Handle Terrorism: How United Kingdom Can Be Saved From Militants.” Head of Security had briefed Gary there might be another attempt on Lorraine’s life, Gary had stationed his trusted aides at vantage points; it was a foolproof arrangement. All exit doors were manned by Gary’s men and nobody was allowed inside without proper I-cards. The security team at the Home office was in constant touch with Gary. Anatoli Maxim was present in the hall as audience !! Gary, and his colleague Angela Whitmore were strolling the hall as she had a whiff something was amiss. What was that(?). Suddenly she realised one man with black suit was standing at the far corner of the podium. Angela had not seen him before, how could he get on the podium(?), she was surprised. At 11.30 am Anatoli left the hall hurriedly, Gary and Angela watched the man exit the hall, what was so peculiar about him(?), yes, he was in a hurry. Something was going to happen; Angela shuddered and ran towards the podium. Gary followed her and before they could speak to that man in black suit, they heard a loud explosion. Oh, my God !! Someone had detonated a deadly bomb which was hidden beneath the podium. How could the explosive reach the high security hall and who planted the bomb(?). Angela was burnt and bruised beyond recognition and succumbed to her injuries, Lorraine was immediately put on ICU, she had twenty percent chance of survival, the right side of her was badly burnt !! Three doctors were on her constantly and they assured the PM they would do everything possible to revive the Home Secretary from a seemingly hopeless position. Gary gained consciousness after a while and the first thought that came to him was - he had lost Lorraine. AFTER ELEVEN MONTHS. There was a call from the Hospital, the Prime Minister took the call and rushed to The Royal Brompton Hospital.  Doctor Heinberger was smiling brightly as he received the PM. “Yes Doctor(?).” “We have been able to heal all the injuries of the Home Secretary. She is able to speak now.” “Oh, thank you doctor, you have done wonders”, he rushed to room no 202, she lay there smiling timidly, thanking everybody for her life !! Gary, on PM’s advice, investigated the officers of Security Department in the Home Office who had possibly put Lorraine’s life in danger. The Commander of Security, Grizlane Strauf, was asked to go, three more officers who were reporting to Grizlane lost their jobs. A month passed and Lorraine Elizabeth resigned from the services of Home Secretary. She had one son from her earlier marriage, Gary convinced her to leave UK; Lorraine and Gary shifted base to USA with kid’s education confirmed by Commander of Navy Seals, Sheila Ancelloti. Lorraine did get a teaching assignment at Harvard, working with students of International Politics, Gary was with Navy Seals purely in a mentoring capacity. Mauritius, September 2011. Firdaus had recovered fully and Kanwaljit shifted her to a nondescript hotel without delay. Next morning, Kanwaljit took Firdaus to Mumbai on a chartered flight, Nisith was pleasantly surprised, even he was not informed about the developments. India, January 2012. Nisith got a job as Director, Artificial Intelligence Toolwork at Glenwich Consultancy, Hyderabad. Firdaus settled in Hyderabad, she was working as Head, Corporate Communications, Toggle Tech India. Atul Mohan was arrested from his Mumbai Office by Indian secret service agents for passing on confidential information to Pakistan’s ISI. Pakistan, February 2012. Rafiq Ahmed was demoted and was sent to Israel for two years working with Mossad. Shahnawaz Khan took over as the new Station Chief. He had an urgent meeting with two secret service colleagues discussing a covert operation in Bangladesh !! Germany, 2012. Tracy went back to Stuttgart, she decided to work in Stuttgart Hospital. Unfortunately, she was killed in a road accident a month later. It was widely believed she was killed by ISI agents to obliterate any trace related to the assassination plots of Firdaus and Lorraine. It took almost a month for MI6 to track down Anatoli Maxim. He was shot at and never lived to see another day. Andrey Ivolov was last seen in Moscow’s St. Basil’s Cathedral. Two ex-Navy Seals with a MI6 agent would be travelling to Moscow in a few days! Have you come across a woman assassin as fierce as Tracy(?). I haven’t !! Disclaimer: All characters in this article are imaginary and have no resemblance to any person(s) dead or alive.