Sunday, 7 October 2012

An Untold Story

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 32; the thirty-second edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is 'An Untold Story'

It was a bright sunny day in Kabul and people were moving in and out from the Lagua international airport. People from various parts of the country could be noticed, many tourists from the US and the UK and other countries were prominently identified and distinguished. Sharib too was misrepresented as a tourist.
Sharib a fair, tall medium build gentlemen was among them. His rayban sunglasses were shining in the shady indoors. His muscular build was embellished by the Armani suit and Lee jeans. His hard leather shoes amplified his presence in the airport. Local educated folks have already branded him  as the product of Globalisation

He infact was the product of globalisation..

After depositing his luggage, He moved towards the first level of security. He kept his cell phone, metal belt , wallet and his pen in the basket to go for a separate scrutiny. After getting through with the first tier of security check he went to the immigration counter to get his visa,tickets and passport verified. "Good day Mr Shane,  The US airbus will be leaving in half and hour, have a safe journey" "Thank you " Sharib returned the greeting with the smile.

" Passengers of the US airbus kindly move towards terminal 5" An announcement was made for all the passengers of the US airbus. Sharib kept aside his newspaper and rushed to join the queue. In a hurry, he collided with the janitor and accidently dropped his pen which he rendered with reverence."Aah sir soory, heeere iz your pen" said the janitor in the crude afgani accent. " Ahh thank you" Sharib said grasping for breath and converged towards the queue. While moving, he looked back towards the janitor and threw a wink. The janitor smiled.

Maqbool has never looked more cute in his life.

Sharib moved towards the second security check which was not as rigorous as the first one and basically was a formal frisking cum ticket check. The passengers for the US Airbus waited for the bus which would carry them to the plane. After two minutes, the scheduled  bus arrived. Sharib noticed the bus number and took a heave of relief.

"Shahyara, you are genius" He muttered in his mind.

Sharib took the predetermined seat 34 and quietly grabbed the inkpot placed under the seat. he hid that in his suit. The bus reached the plane and the group of female airhostess greeted them and guided them to their respective seats. 
The plane picked up speed and the the Head airhostess intoduced their group. " Hello this is the maiden flight of the US airbus, we welcome you all to the maiden flight of this airbus. I am the chief airhostess Alena. She is Mayne, Shayara, Megha and Jane, kindlyput on your seat belts. The temperature is 34*c , a liitle turbulance and we are expected to reach New orleans by 2 :30 pm friday. 

Sharib ignored the rest of their ranting and decided to take a nap. he had many sleepless nights before last night. Afternoon nap is always refreshing, he thought.
His nap, took him back to his childhood. His hometown Daslan, a village near baglan. Memories started dancing in his mind.

" Ammi, you work somuch hard each day and still they dont pay you enough, You have burned your hands in their mines, why ammi?"

His ammi a young, emaciated women was employed in the coal mine of a fat American whose aim was to supply coal to the steel factory and earn profits. exploitation became his second name, Poor workers worked under terrible conditions, were paid paltry sum after the long hours of drudgery. His ammi, despite being a women, struggled for her kids. Sharib used to work in the tea stall but their income were sufficient to sustain the family of  4 people. A year later both of his brothers died of malnutrition and his mother suffered a heartstroke. She narrowly escaped death. These incidents were enough to open his eyes and make him realise,something wrong is happening. 

He barged into the room of the american and demanded explaination. The american laughed and decided to teach him few basic concepts of economics. He started " You see you filthy ragamuffin, the system we are living in is capitalist system. Rich people like us, rich nations like us will dominate you, will exploit you, will rob you. we will prosper and you will starve. got it kid. This is the system. now you either work or languish till death just like your brothers."
" Throw him out," the american signalled the guard standing outside and Sharib was thrown out of the office

His mother was weak yet she was compelled to work,as the rising debt was taking its toll. His mother collapsed on the very next day and was taken to the private hospital opened in place of the primitive locals owned hospital. The government has allowed foreign investers to invest in infrastructure, as a result, locals owned hospitals got wiped off from the place.
The private hospital refused to admit her. Sharib pleaded, begged but no one listened.
Sharib hurridly rushed to the american who was walking down to his underground office.
He blocked his path, and begged "Huzur, please give me some money, i need it for my mother, she is in the hospital, she needs treatment" 
"Hush, shoo you flithy vermin" berated american
"Huzur please, beat me, abuse me but please give me something"
"Die u lowbreeds" and he kicked the ribs of sharib and pushed him aside. Sharib sat down and started crying.
An old man was observing this scene from a distance.

He approached Sharib " Son are you going to cry or do something"
Sharib rose to his senses. He saw american walking down the staircase. He ran and pushed the american down with full force. The american came tumbling down from the stairs to the solid ground.
" That Har... Used to to talk of systems, now i will push down that system too that system will come down crashing just like this fat american.

His eyes were filled with retribution, flames of hatred fuelled by unexhaustive flow of grief..

Rehman bhai smiled...
" Uncle uncle, can you hand me my bag" A little american girl approached him. He woke up from his nap rather abruptly which scared the little girl but his smile of reassurance reassured the girl. He picked up her bag and gave it to her. He was mesimerised by her shining eyes, a cute smile. He gave her a choclate which he bought from the airport. He felt sorry for her but alas. He had to do what he needed to do.

He went to the bathroom, picked up the gasmask from the flush chamber and gently instilled the ink into the pen. He came out of the bathroom.

" Everyone present here good morning, oops sorry bad morning for all of you. I hope you all have had the time of your lives because you wont be having any more moments left with you. Soon you all be dead from this poisonous gas. My pen had the chemical which began reacting with the ink which i have with me. Once i open this cap, the oxygen will reach to the compound and bam... Hahahaha"

The passengers were terrorised, there was clamour and commotion, women were weeping, men were terrified. Airhostess were knocked out cold. All this commotion and pandemonium, Sharib found it amusing
" Why are you trying to kill us all? What wrong have we done? Please spare us" all these questions were thrown to sharib. " Silence everyone, I never had grudge with anybody in this plane nor am i a psyco killer. Here is the little sacrifice which will shake the world system, enlighten the world about the repecussion of neoimperialism. This system will produce many like us and so this is just a small step towards change"

" what change will you bring by killing us all. I am a doctor, its a noble profession, i have healed umpteen patients in my life, what wrong have i done? Why kill the innocent?

" Hahaha nice to know that you are doctor moron, you know what, my mother suffered a stroke and i admitted her in the hospital owned by some american. Doctors refused to treat her, i arranged money from rehman bhai and when i reached there, my mother was lying on the road. LIFELESS! !!"

" Are you going to kill these little children too?, what wrong have they done.? My daughter whom you liked so much will die in any moment. Are you human?"

' Sorry mam but your daughter will have to die too, she is the offspring of this capitalist system, she will grow and become the same exploiter. Its imperative to exterminate children. Maybe the next generation might remember and may turn out somewhat ummm, better, umm nevermind."

"So the bottomline is a little shock can bring down regimes, USSR collapsed by the economic and cultural shock, maybe USA will learn somelesson from the shock which i am goning to give to its citizens"

" Wait, you dont have to do this" said an old man hiding beneath his chair. " I am a journalist at CNN and will publish your story"
" Sorry dude, i will rather have it UNTOLD."

He opens the cap of the pen and the green smoke engulfed the cabinet gently and slowing soaking the life out from old and young alike. Every living creature present now sleeps for eternity as deathgods have their feast.

"Here at CNN live we present you the true story of the monster who caused annaihation of the innocent. Shane Costron aka Sharib was involved in many bloody terrorism acts. A monster from birth. Watch the list of his sinister plans on our show TRUE STORY"

"True Story buh" uttered rehman bhai in the tone of dismissal, " They will never know the true story" he turned off television set and went outdoors to offer a breadloaf to the little boy standing outside his gate.

His eyes were filled with retribution, flames of hatred fuelled by unexhaustive flow of grief..

Rehman bhai smiled..


The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: BLOGGER NAME, Participation Count: 03


  1. Replies
    1. Thank you. Yeah a fictionalised untold story..

  2. Nice story..its captivating... :)
    All the best for BAT

    I am here

  3. Good story, nice research.You might want to check the spacebar on your keyboard though..:P many words got jammed together.. ATB for BAT :)

    1. Yeah, i typed it on the phone and that too in a hurry. Thank you and atb to you too

  4. Good attempt at fiction! Honest opinion: Please do not get offended. You might want to check the usage of some of the words you have used - like deceived, amplified, embellished, tirade etc. Also, Kabul would not be THE Kabul. US and UK would be in all Caps.

    1. Thank you :-) corrections done.
      Its a true story bit fictionalised. :-)

  5. Hey Ash.. Its a nice story.. Keep writing.. always remember practice makes a man perfect and even best can be improved.. I would love to read more from your pen in the near future... All the very best.. Happy blogging...

    1. Thank you very much for the encouragement :-)

  6. A very good imagination , Was worth a good read
    wud love to read more from you:)

    ALL The Best :D

  7. New Blogger ! I am new too :D
    Brilliantly written . And its really nice how you ended it with "Story Continues" !

  8. A nice attempt at a terrorist's possible insight. There are always two sides to every story huh.

    +Not Just My Allegories+

    1. Yes. The One assumed and the one untold.
      Thank you for visiting :-)

  9. Well thought out and nicely penned down.

  10. interesting read :)
    ATB for BAT :)

  11. interesting start, turned a wee bit dramatic at the end, but overall, a good read!

    ATB for BAT!


    1. Just to show the cyclic production of people like sharib.
      Thank you for visiting :-)

  12. Interesting take. Good luck for BAT

  13. A very different take on the theme, and narrated well!
    All the best for BAT 32 :)

  14. The detailing of the story was excellent, loved your narration, it gave an vivid picture.

    Do visit my blog :)

  15. Good plot. Only, I don't think terrorists do so much of talking - neither do they allow others to talk. The continuation part is most appreciated - it is close to REALITY.

    1. Ya but it depends on the personality. Yes, reality.... Thanks for visiting :-)

  16. Very well written Ash! Just finished voting at BAT. ATB :)

  17. Good one Ash! Every terrorist must have had such untold stories with them :) But, there are other ways to bring change into the system as well.

    1. Thank you :-) . Some people suffer such treatment from the world and end up forming a bleak impression about the world system. This perception of the world forces them to take such radical steps. System can be changed only by revolution (bloody) and reform. People like sharib took the former way to bring about the change