They were a beautiful trio, exchanging glances for a few seconds, having their minds travel a few years to the past, making a memorable heart-to-heart talk the most remarkable. In the crowded city, neither the vehicles, nor the people disturbed them; not even their own individualised focus distracted them. What mattered to them was only themselves, nothing and no one else.
In a few seconds, the two guns were pointed at each other, having a few more seconds for the trigger to be pulled. A vehicle that went past became a barrier, whatsoever. The bhikkhu, looked at the two gunners, unalarmed, the culprit and the victim from the eyes of the society, but for him. There was a cluster of extremely brief moments of silence again, before they travelled to their school days.
************************************
Three youth, two boys and a girl, namely Vishvanath, Jeevan and Disna were walking home after school. Their chatter was echoing in the whole village. Vishvanath came from a comparatively rich family; he didn’t have big life plans. He was averagely skilful in all activities in school. Jeevan and Disna strived harder to win life, looking at their hardworking parents.
“Any plans for this evening?” Disna asked, breaking the silence.
“Read more about the Russian Revolution,” Jeevan replied with enthusiasm.
“What’s special about the Russian? All these revolutions have been the same,” Vishvanath stated his mind.
“One wins and the other loses; the winner always writes history, often the rebels become blameworthy,” Jeevan said.
“Winning and losing are the same; they’re simply two ends of the same catastrophe,” Vishvanath added to his conceptions, or perhaps what others believed were his.
“Interesting!” The amazed girl exclaimed.
There was silence again before the girl herself broke it.
“I’m playing basketball this afternoon.”
“You’re really into sports, aren’t you?” Jeevan asked.
“Yes, that makes me feel complete.”
A smile appeared on Vishvanath at the girl’s reply, which he suppressed with less effort, although he couldn’t hide it from the girl.
“So, all sports are the same, aren’t they? What difference is there between basketball and volleyball, or any other sport? C’mon Vish, ask me that question!”
All three burst into laughter at her words. There was no question there; the question itself carried the answer.
That afternoon, they carried on their plans as they mentioned: Disna with basket ball, Jeevan with his research about the Russian Revolution and Vishvanath weighing the differences and similarities between all man-made things.
************************************
Time was fast and the three friends were separated at the end of their final school year. They walked on their own paths, one not knowing what the other was heading to. Neither Disna, nor Jeevan, nor Vishvanath was in the same city. They went following their interests, and lost any connection between.
Disna played basketball, and many other sports. She had herself registered in a martial arts school, and began to learn kickboxing. She thought it was more interesting than any other. It gave her strength, courage and taught her brilliant lessons of patience.
Consecutively, she submitted her application to the police special task force. It was quite the procedure. After many interviews and training she became a ranker in it, tasked to investigate terrorism in the country. She was a loyal servant of the Government, prim and proper, on time to report for duties. She made sure that all given tasks were fulfilled with no loopholes. An officer as duty conscious as her was promoted to higher ranks, and so it happened.
It was an era of terrorism in the country. Once, the special task force received information from an unofficial source about a lodging that a group of terrorists was making their plans to attack the Government. And Disna had herself ready with her team. No one, just no one could escape the might, wilfulness and the strength of a dedicated officer like her. She planned her attack and arrest cautiously with her team.
First, a patriotic officer, as described in her own words was sent to gather information. He had to change his appearance to look like a hobo, and roam around the house - a crumbling house - that the terrorist group was meeting at night. The hobo made use of the place to sleep at nights. Himself, in dirty and ragged clothes was never a suspect to the terrorists. He lay down on the floor, further away from where the planning happened. And he listened.
“We should plan cautiously. The Prime Minister (PM) is attending the meeting at the town centre at 5 pm. Our comrades will start working on our plan way before. A tiny loose point can make everything go in vain.”
“Already two of ours are involved in building the stage. They aren’t any suspects, and on it superbly.”
The hobo sleeping at a distance never fell into the eyes of the terrorists, who carried on their conversation freely. Although the full conversation didn’t fall into his listening senses, the hobo could gather the needful: a time bomb was going to be fixed to the stage where the PM would deliver his speech, and he was going to be assassinated.
The information was passed to the special task force. Disna was leading the team, and it was time for her to put her skilful mind on action. She started doing her mind-planning. And the following day the rest of her team was called.
First, it was a matter of identifying the culprits involved in building the stage, and that wasn’t easy. Disna made a visit to the town centre where the stage was being built. Of course, there was quite a large number of workers, and she had her eagle eyes open. She didn’t take long, whatsoever, to see a familiar face among them.
“Jeevan!” She said to herself.
She had her eyes follow him. Did he really look like a construction worker, building a stage? Not at all! She recalled many happenings from the past, from their school days, some of his words echoing in her mind.
“Rebels are shown as blameworthy.”
“History is written by the winners.”
“This way of ruling has to be changed.”
“We need a liberal Government.”
Disna found herself nostalgic, but she straightened herself up. She was from the special task force, and there was no way that she could let a traitor, in her own understanding, escape.
************************************
Jeevan in his own notion of liberation had become a member of the main anti-Government terrorist movement in the country determining himself with his fellow comrades to attack the Government and change the whole system.
It had happened during his school days on his way home from school. A stranger had walked up to him at the bus-stop, and fallen into conversation. Gradually, he had got friendly with the youngster, friendly enough to exchange books with him, books about historical revolutions, famous rebels and how they revolted against Governments. Jeevan had been very keen and enthusiastic about them, listening to him and reading the books offered by him. Consecutively, he had been led to meetings held by the anti-Government movement the stranger had been attached to.
Jeevan had attended the meetings wholeheartedly, believing that the Government had to be changed; the whole system had to be changed, for that matter. The voice of the youth had to be heard. He had started his journey towards liberation.
It was a long journey, and long years had passed. Their movement had progressed, spreading its wings throughout. Jeevan was one of the leading figures in it. He knew that the Government was corrupt. Politicians were only concerned about their personal benefits. Millions of people were suffering because of the corrupt Government which wasn’t doing well for the benefit of the country. Things had to change. There was no other way to proceed without eliminating the main figure of the Government who was the main figure of corruption, and that’s when they put forward the plan to assassinate the PM.
************************************
Disna still had her eyes on him. Jeevan saw her in the police uniform, but didn’t recognise her. She made sure to have her eyes out of focus, so he wouldn’t have the slightest clue who she was. Well, she was just another officer on duty.
He slowly disappeared from the rest of the workers, and found himself in an abandoned spot on the road, making it look as if he went on a brief break.
Disna had her eyes follow him.
He took his cell phone out. Of course, he was making a call to his organisation, informing them about the present situation, hardly knowing that the very efficient special task officer was standing right behind him.
“Put your hands up and turn around!” She commanded.
Shocked to hear the command, he did so, to meet his school friend face-to-face, now aiming a gun at him. In a glimpse of time, making the best of the brief seconds spent on recognition, he took his gun out. There they stood, pointing their guns at each other.
However, a barrier appeared between them - a bhikkhu - yes a bhikkhu in yellow robes! All three had their eyes meet, exchanging glances. The two friends didn’t take long to recognise the third: Vishvanath, now in robes!
The bhikkhu looked at the two youths. It wasn’t clear if he recognised them. For him, they were two gunners; both were culprits and also victims - two ends of the same catastrophe. One of them was fighting for liberation, the other was also fighting for the same, on her own concept.
The youth ready to attack each other gave time for the bhikkhu to go past. The terrorist, making use of the sudden appearance of the bhikkhu, quickly escaped in the crowd, while the special task officer chased him.
The bhikkhu seemingly indifferent to their struggles for liberation and something not perceivable for the same, moved on,
on his journey of cessation: eternal liberation.