had, in school, been friends with one Tanvir Khanzada. An upcoming young gangster, Tanvir had made sure that no hothead from either community challenged the two lovers as they bound themselves to each other in holy matrimony.
Now, as Tanvir rapped his fist on the steel shutters of the shop, he heard a familiar voice from inside, shouting, 'Fuck off, you bevda!'
'Your father is a bevda, and you are a chutiya,' retorted Tanvir, smiling. In a flash, the shutter was half-raised. The smell of stale food laced with rum floated out to Tanvir's nostrils. A grinning bearded and turbaned head popped out from under the shutter 'Oho, Eid ka chand, come in...come in.' Tanvir slid under the shutter into the dimly-lit shop. Sarabjit's grin widened as he gave Tanvir a warm hug. 'Sorry yaar, there's a drunkard who lands up here every time we're working nights. He keeps knocking and knocking, asking for a sip of our booze.'
Tanvir looked around the small shop. At a small workstation, two other Sikhs were sitting, working away on their laptops. A mass of jumbled cables, hard disks, USBs and connecters lay around them, intermingled with paper plates of half-eaten chicken tangdis and plastic glasses of half-sipped rum and Cokes. 'Tanvir, you remember my two kid brothers' He turned to the engrossed Sikhs, 'Oye bhenchodon, pay your respects to Tanvir bhai.' The two Sikhs momentarily looked up at Tanvir and flashed him warm smiles, bobbing their heads in respect. 'Please forgive them, Tanvir, they are busy unloading some dollars from a fat Amriki tourist whose credit card we got today.'
Tanvir held out the nazar bead. 'I need to know what's on this.'
Sarabjit broke into a quizzical smile. 'Oh! So finally teri goti kat ke tere haath me aa hi gayi?'
Tanvir smiled at Sarabjit's bawdy joke. 'This marble has a chip camera inside it of the latest technology.'
Sarabjit's brothers, who had been busy on their laptops, stopped all of a sudden. Before Sarabjit could answer, one of them got up and grabbed the bead while the other brought out a torch and a toolbox.
Sarabjit smiled. 'You just said the magic words "latest technology"'. He broke into a throaty laughter.
Within seconds, the two boys were busy dismantling the outer core of the bead. It didnt take them long to tweeze the tiny chip out of the bead.
'For these two, this is as exciting as finding an item girl's panties,' said Sarabjit, between guffaws.
One of the boys took out a super-small SIM-card-like object and shoved the chip inside. Sarabjit smiled and winked. 'That my friend, is our "Khulja SimSim" card. It converts any kind of coded information on any chip into the code that we have created.' His brothers coughed, trying to attract his attention. Sarabjit smiled and pointed at them, 'Correction. A code created by Santa and Banta here.' The two gave him a mock-dirty look.
The SIM card was now inserted into an iPad that was connected to a mass of wires. The iPad flickered into video mode and an image sprang on the screen. The image was of a serene-faced man who looked as non-threatening as a clerk in a nationalized bank. But what he said, made everyone's blood freeze. 'You may think I'm a bad man, but history will know me as a visionary who crossed the border to help his Islamic brethren in India. I want my brothers and sisters in India to get out of the poverty-stricken conditions that they have lived in for the past sixty-five years' Tanvir realized that it was Aalamzeb talking to Rabia, while three other men, who had their faces covered, were wrapping something around Rabia. Tanvir guessed that it must be the bomb corset. He glanced at Sarabjit and his brothers and saw that they were staring at the screen, shell-shocked.
On the screen Aalamzeb continued, 'I want true vengeance for you, for all of Islam. The only way you can avenge your Muslim brothers is to tell the police that I will be hiding in the Bombay Stock Exchange building. Tell them to come and meet me on the roof, and all
Now, as Tanvir rapped his fist on the steel shutters of the shop, he heard a familiar voice from inside, shouting, 'Fuck off, you bevda!'
'Your father is a bevda, and you are a chutiya,' retorted Tanvir, smiling. In a flash, the shutter was half-raised. The smell of stale food laced with rum floated out to Tanvir's nostrils. A grinning bearded and turbaned head popped out from under the shutter 'Oho, Eid ka chand, come in...come in.' Tanvir slid under the shutter into the dimly-lit shop. Sarabjit's grin widened as he gave Tanvir a warm hug. 'Sorry yaar, there's a drunkard who lands up here every time we're working nights. He keeps knocking and knocking, asking for a sip of our booze.'
Tanvir looked around the small shop. At a small workstation, two other Sikhs were sitting, working away on their laptops. A mass of jumbled cables, hard disks, USBs and connecters lay around them, intermingled with paper plates of half-eaten chicken tangdis and plastic glasses of half-sipped rum and Cokes. 'Tanvir, you remember my two kid brothers' He turned to the engrossed Sikhs, 'Oye bhenchodon, pay your respects to Tanvir bhai.' The two Sikhs momentarily looked up at Tanvir and flashed him warm smiles, bobbing their heads in respect. 'Please forgive them, Tanvir, they are busy unloading some dollars from a fat Amriki tourist whose credit card we got today.'
Tanvir held out the nazar bead. 'I need to know what's on this.'
Sarabjit broke into a quizzical smile. 'Oh! So finally teri goti kat ke tere haath me aa hi gayi?'
Tanvir smiled at Sarabjit's bawdy joke. 'This marble has a chip camera inside it of the latest technology.'
Sarabjit's brothers, who had been busy on their laptops, stopped all of a sudden. Before Sarabjit could answer, one of them got up and grabbed the bead while the other brought out a torch and a toolbox.
Sarabjit smiled. 'You just said the magic words "latest technology"'. He broke into a throaty laughter.
Within seconds, the two boys were busy dismantling the outer core of the bead. It didnt take them long to tweeze the tiny chip out of the bead.
'For these two, this is as exciting as finding an item girl's panties,' said Sarabjit, between guffaws.
One of the boys took out a super-small SIM-card-like object and shoved the chip inside. Sarabjit smiled and winked. 'That my friend, is our "Khulja SimSim" card. It converts any kind of coded information on any chip into the code that we have created.' His brothers coughed, trying to attract his attention. Sarabjit smiled and pointed at them, 'Correction. A code created by Santa and Banta here.' The two gave him a mock-dirty look.
The SIM card was now inserted into an iPad that was connected to a mass of wires. The iPad flickered into video mode and an image sprang on the screen. The image was of a serene-faced man who looked as non-threatening as a clerk in a nationalized bank. But what he said, made everyone's blood freeze. 'You may think I'm a bad man, but history will know me as a visionary who crossed the border to help his Islamic brethren in India. I want my brothers and sisters in India to get out of the poverty-stricken conditions that they have lived in for the past sixty-five years' Tanvir realized that it was Aalamzeb talking to Rabia, while three other men, who had their faces covered, were wrapping something around Rabia. Tanvir guessed that it must be the bomb corset. He glanced at Sarabjit and his brothers and saw that they were staring at the screen, shell-shocked.
On the screen Aalamzeb continued, 'I want true vengeance for you, for all of Islam. The only way you can avenge your Muslim brothers is to tell the police that I will be hiding in the Bombay Stock Exchange building. Tell them to come and meet me on the roof, and all
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