Monday, 21 July 2014

# Winter. 1950- 2015.

As I look upon her, as if in a magic gaze through lives, I find my soul. My expression. My whole meaning of smashing through the maze of mirrors that time had built around us. Soul mate? Duh. This is something beyond history.

She's exquisitely delicate, like a full-bodied globule of Domaine de la Romanee-Conti. Perceforest. The first Sleeping Beauty. I had watched her every night, through the looking glass darkly, during nights. When I was all alone, having announced my victory over that anonymous opponent who, out of sheer non-choice always gets the white pieces. His move. This is my move. I want to steal Chronos, the perennial keeper of the clock. The three-headed serpent. A man, a bull and a lion.

Now, what do I choose for this ' The Beauty Sleeping in the Wood '? One moment, let's take a detour; there's a relation between the three heads of the Chronos - past, present and future, of course, but, one can choose - out of the three. Not a fourth one. If I chose my past to represent the Perceforest in front of me, that was unmindful. How could I be so casual about vital matters!

I had already made up my mind to rob her. If I wanted to dis-robe her or just possess, was another thing. My bother at this moment is why my logic abruptly divorced me to marry a romance. Very unusual - normally I rob things, not beings. Well, that brings us to where my first reverse theft assignment came about. That night when the newsman and I walked up the road. he had bad news.

There were some drafts drawn up earlier that week which would facilitate international arms trade between the world's two most powerful nations - China and Japan. The bad news was, they were stolen by an Indian and both nations have covertly issued an ultimatum. The deadline had two more days to go but the PM didn't want the thing to go public as in many other instances. He wanted the news baron to muffle the whisper machine.

' How can I help?' I asked, walking alongside the man.

' Well, find them! ' he said curtly.

I didn't bother for a repartee which might have surprised him, because that was why he had always called me The Doer, after that meeting at midnight

Now that I had something to rub my hands in excitement, I forgot how poor were my fighting skills. Till I reached Tashkent.

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