Skip to main content

The D tribe

The D tribe.

They pushed him inside the room, tied to his chair.
He had a mask on his face. His hands were tied back behind the chair.
It has been four days since he was captured by the tribe during the battle.
Raga was the unit commander of the elite squad of the special armed forces which was missioned to take out the deadly D tribe as they referred it as. D tribe stood for Demon. This tribe had already destroyed the neighboring villages around their forests and were heading into the cities. Their base was situated deep in the forest. So the military decided a mission. A special squad was sent to completely terminate the tribe but as it turned out, the tribe possessed some special powers. They were blessed by the demons and the squad had to retreat midway. In this process, Raga was captured.
For three days continuous he was tortured and was the subject of their rituals.
The tribal wanted to know key information about the military so that they could take away the artillery, their ultimate aim was to take over the world. Rule the word. Make people kneel before them. Worship them.
But Demons or Gods, Raga didn’t open his mouth, he didn’t give them anything. So the torture he suffered was also extreme.
The tribal had plucked his nails whole from his fingers, stripped him naked, tattooed his body with a hot iron rod. They broke the bones of his leg. One of the tribal got so frustrated that he threw boiling acid to his private parts. The other even mutilated his eye with a burning iron gauze.
Raga knew that even if he escaped, he was incapable of doing or performing anything. He was useless for the rest of his life.
Now Raga was sent to the chamber. This was where the Demon resided. Their God.
Raga had a mask on his face, so it was all dark.
Then his chair was slowly pulled to the center. It was moving all by itself.
The movement jolted Raga as shook his head.
“Who is there” he was breathing heavily.
The chair rotated slowly and then stopped at an angle.
There was pin drop silence. His breathing got louder every second. It was burning hit inside and Raga was dripping sweat all over. He didn’t have any clothes and his skin was turning red form the heat. There were bruises, lacerations and wounds all over his body.
Then suddenly his mask came off and his hands got untied.
He rubbed his wrists as he felt them free after four days.
Raga didn’t get up; the room was dark on the other side.
There was no one in the room. He kept looking at the dark side. He knew someone was there.
He kept looking and then slowly it emerged from the dark.
The hands came out gripping to the floor, then the face and her legs. She was crawling towards him. Her face was small and blue, her eye pale white, no visible eyebrows, her lips black. Her nose and ears were covered completely with piercings. She had piercings across her cheek as well.
Her hair was wet and falling down on her face. It swayed to the sides as she crawled.
She didn’t have any clothes on, but a lot of bones and chains hanging from her neck. She had bracelets till her upper arm and anklets till her knee. Her toenails and fingernails painted black.
She crawled on her fours with the medial side of her knees sweeping the floor. She dragged herself close to him. He was already too traumatized. He sat there.
She licked his feet first, then slowly came up smelling his body. It was like she was identifying him, his spirit, preparing him for conversion.
She looked at him in his eye. Raga was trembling, a shiver ran down his spine as her cold hands touched his face. It was like she was looking inside of him.
Next moment she was sitting over him, crouching on his head.
She pulled his hair very hard.
The pain was excruciating and he screamed.
She kept pulling his hair continuously till just a few strands remained. Her hands ran all over his face in a haphazard manner as her nails tore and punctured his skin. She pulled his face with her nails and his face started bleeding at multiple parts.
For once he thought he would give up.
The demon licked the blood from his face and it gave her more energy.
She came back to ground, stood upright and pushed him to the walls. The chair broke down. Not allowing him to recover, she threw him again to the opposite end. His head banged to the walls, his bones were breaking. He would die but slowly.
He coughed blood to the floor.
He lay on the floor all bloodied up, she was enjoying it. As she slowly ran her finger from his mouth to the abdomen along the center. There a flashing light, seen on his chest as she reached his umbilicus. The Demon looked at his face. Raga smiled as he coughed up more blood.
It was a tracking device, which every member was implanted with. Four days or more in isolation would trigger it immediately calling in for an airstrike assuming the member dead.
The airstrike was on its way.
Raga was going to die, but he was taking the D tribe with him. He had done it.
The mission was successful.

Popular posts from this blog

The abandoned

The Abandoned
Mr. Kuthappa leaned against the wall adjacent to his bed and sipped the brownish, gold liquid from a tetra pack. Abstaining from what my eyes were showing “Mr. Kuthappa, what is that” I paced myself towards him, to show my authority, to demand the respect I deserved, to remind him he was the patient and I was the doctor. But my angry catwalk didn’t seem to intimidate him. Nothing was going to bother him now and we both knew I couldn’t save him with my knowledge or medications. It was too late. His body was completely submerged in the sea of alcohol. He continued sucking through the small hole of the tetra pack waiting to hit the sea bed. This was also a record new low in my life. An alcoholic drinking right in front of his doctor. “Oh, this” he let the pack swing between his index and thumb fingers. “This is what has guided me for the past 25 years. Always there for me in my bad times and good times.” Kuthappa gulped the remaining, squeezed the packet like a toothpas…

The pharmacist

The pharmacist.

Traffic across the street had slowly dwindled as midnight approached, the moonlit sky casting occasional shadows over us. I could begin my process of the closing the shop. 5am-12pm was my work routine. It was a life sucking routine but the timings gave me extra customers, elderly in the morning, the younger later at night and also I could save the extra electricity costs by not keeping it open 24 hours. It was my shop and I didn’t mind working extra time to earn a few more bucks. I didn’t have a family to attend to, so this shop was pretty much everything I had. As I was summing up my day’s earnings, my favorite customer, Syed dropped by. “Hey, how’s it going my man. I can see you made good money today. Keep it safe. Especially from me” He joked, giving me a wide grin as he made his way to the neighboring shop, which was also mine. A popular smoking hotspot among the locals. I could sense Syed’s rush to take a drag of tobacco. Syed, the same age as me, worked as a wel…

The diary of a freedom fighter

The diary of a freedom fighter.
I set the air condition to 18 C, turbo mode on, directed the air flow to my bed. Refreshed after a steaming, hot water shower I crashed, face first on my crisply draped bed. As the cool air performed its duty of drying me, I repositioned myself from prone to supine. A wet patch Today I decided to start a new book. But this time, it wasn’t a bestseller by a famous author, or a critically acclaimed book by an unknown author, or a book suggested by my reader friends (who read one book a year, so it had to be good) or a book recommended by amazon for me. Today, it was my grandfather’s diary, which my father had given me when I was 15 years old. The book dated back to the 1940s and it was a memoir of my grandfather’s time in pre-independent India. After 10 years of procrastination, finally the faded black cover of the diary was staring at me. I took a deep sniff of the approximately middle pages of the book. I did it before every new book. The peculiar, ink …