There is no life, there is no death.

The path of future, no God has set.

This is a place where you find all blood

only the rivers of tears, here, flood.

He banged the door shut with forceful aggression like never before. He was angry, he was mad.

He had failed, yet again. Doubts started creeping in, this time. Did he really want to do this?
Every passing second brought along with itself a myriad questions to his head.

“Dinner is ready. Please eat something”, his wife barely managed to squeak. Glancing at her menacingly, he thundered, “Get lost.” She immediately left, teary-eyed.
He was left alone with his thoughts, once again. The thoughts were slowly eating into him, his life, his conscience. The guilt seemed to resurface. He shouldn’t have taken that decision. This was ging to be tough. He had questions to answer – to himself. Questions, the answers to which were now long due.

Silence is sometimes louder than screams.

Every human, so inhuman seems.

The life of another has no value for them,

there is place only for hatred to stem.

They took away his father when he was barely four. Took away? They killed him. Brutally, right in front of his eyes. It would never be the same for him again, he seemed to know. The wails and the ladies’ cries had begun to annoy him. He was intently thinking- he had observed how that man had slit his father’s throat with utmost celerity, while another stabbed him in the back. It looked so easy to him. Of-course, at the age of four, he was fascinated.
Courage inspired him. He could envisage the people’s eyes when they’d see him. The very feeling gave him a high. That is how his journey began- from a petty goon, to a gangster, and now the strategist of an international terror group.

Every story must begin at a place.

Every person has his dream to chase.

The choice that man, for himself, makes

Puts the lives of a million others at stake.

He woke up, startled. He hated sleep, and despised dreams. Dreams, to him, meant visions of his father’s death. Gathering himself, he immediately started working on his next ‘project’.

An uphill task awaited him. Target: 1000 people to kill. If not more, nothing else. The last time, he had failed. This was a test for him. An acid test. He could not afford to lose this time. He’d lose not just his life, but also his dream..his purpose. He worked hard. Days passed. Weeks, too. To kill, was his job. His duty. His belief. He would prove himself.

Courage is that cold blooded swine.

Sometimes, it will let you shine.

Its not anout religion, its not about race.

What matters is, how fast your dreams gain pace.

It was the day of judgement. The day to prove himself to those who had questioned him, his ability, his dreams. But there was a vaccuum inside his head. It felt strange to him. He felt empty. He was nervous. Yes, nervous. He knew not, why. There was panic, for he couldn’t let this happen to himself. He COULD, and he WOULD do it. He had experience to fall on, if not luck.

However, self doubt was soon getting the better of him. He was sweating profusely. Had human emotions ever troubled him so much before? He couldn’t answer himself. All he knew was that something inside him was stopping him from doing it. Maybe, innocent young lives were at stake.

Was it humanity? He went blank.



…it never was humanity.

It was only desire. Desire, to achieve his dreams, to achieve his goals.

Desire to be ruthless, to be courageous.

Desire, to do his duty well.

Desire, to kill.



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