Chapter 01 – That day

(13^th Sept. '08). The second–most important day of my life (if you can call it a life).

It started out as just another day for me, but, I did something that day that made it important. I had been looking forward to that day for six months. And, when that day arrived, I almost wanted to rush out and complete that job that had been assigned to me by the group leader.

The morning tea tasted better than ever, and, for some strange reason, the water was a bit cold compared to the previous day, and, the day before. A nice shower, a refreshing breakfast, and, I knew it was my day. I had a strange tingling sensation in the pit of my stomach that was telling me that something bad was going to happen.

But, shrugging off that feeling, I picked up the bag that contained the package that I was supposed to deliver to our main location that day. That package had been carefully prepared by my team and it had taken us a week to finally assemble it and pack it up. There were ten such packages to be delivered at various locations. But, my package was the biggest and most special and was to be taken to the main location. Those packages were part of the fourth lot made by us. We had already delivered three consignments in Bangalore, Ahmedabad and Jaipur. There were two dozen more consignments that we were to prepare for delivery throughout India.

I had drawn a “location–map” on my arm according to our surveys that we had undertaken in the previous weeks. That map was supposed to guide me out of the area after delivering the package in case of unexpected developments. Everyone in each team had those maps on their arms corresponding to the specific location that had been assigned to them. We had not used any papers as it was easier to destroy the map on the arm. We simply had to wet our sleeves and the water was to do the rest to the special water–soluble ink with which we had drawn the maps.

The location that had been assigned to me and my partner is a very crowded market–place. The weekend is the busiest shopping time at Karol Bagh, our focal point, as is the case at almost all major shopping areas in Delhi. We had selected Saturday and not Sunday as another of our target, Connaught Place, is usually closed on Sundays. So, Saturday was the best day for our business as more people around in the markets meant more customers for what we were selling.

“CUSTOMERS!!!”

It is an interesting word in our field of work. I would not elaborate much upon it at this point of time as it would become quite clear by the time I end my story.

As to what we sold, let me tell you that we sold something that is the least popular as well as the most popular thing on the planet ---- “DEATH”. Interestingly, we are not called salespersons like the people engaged in selling other products. We are called “TERRORISTS”.

Why are we called terrorists? I am not really sure. Till that day, and, in fact, till about a few days after that, I used to believe that I was fighting for “OUR” people's cause, a rightful cause, for their rights and for what is rightfully theirs. I believed we were “fighters” destined by Allah to rid the Earth of the evil-doers. Within that feeling of fighting-for-a-cause was mixed a feeling of revenge for me. Revenge for what was done to me, revenge for what was done to us, and, revenge upon those who think that this is not our land.

Today, I believe we were just furthering our business and were simply doing what our organization was paid to do.

In neither of the cases, “Terrorist” would apply as a term to explain what we do.

So.... why “Terrorist”? I don't know.