The Unventured Passions

Collateral Damages

"Anxious" is normal when there is something important on the line. It's fine to feel it as all emotions would reciprocate to educate. But, what is not normal is for that feeling to linger.
Anirudh Roy Chowdhury knew the difference. As anxiety thoughts were akin to driving around the block over and over, faster and faster, the fear centre of his brain got more interconnected, more adrenaline and cortisol flooded him. There was no magic wand to undo whatever his wife had done unknowingly. He wasn't upset because she did it, but was upset because she didn't realise the implications, the gravity of the matter. He always thought Bondita would be better than this, a much more sensible version of people around, but this one behaviour rocked the boat of his trust entirely.
Although his love for her was undying, but his motherland was what he was willing to die for... And, hence this one irresponsible behaviour from Bondita left his mind and heart in wreckage.
As Anirudh rushed out of his office, leaving Bondita behind, all he could think about was how to put an end to whatever Girish had planned, how to convince him to discard his thoughts and terminate his actions... But what if he had already...
Anirudh couldn't think anymore as he almost ran towards the west of the court campus until he reached up to the armed guards.

"Hey... Hey... Good Sir, where are you rushing?" One of the uniformed British guard stopped him.

"Oh... Hello officers. You see, I'm in a bit of a hurry here..." Anirudh smiled and spoke in his queen's accent proving his elitism to the snobby Britishers.
"Here's my card." He pulled out a card from his wallet and handed it to the men.

With a furrowed eyebrows, one of the red-faced man checked the name on the card and gestured the other to take a look at the entry ledger.

"Barrister Ani-rude Roy Chouduree. Sir, may I know the reason of your visit?"

Anirudh's eyes subtly followed the man who was checking the ledger as his finger abruptly stopped at one entry on the page. Anirudh swallowed.

"Well you see officers, I visited the Correction Center earlier today for an important interview related to my case, and well", he chuckled softly, "I've left my recorder and a gold-tip fountain pen inside... I'm embarrassed, but you see, the pen holds great emotional value to me as my dead father... Well... His dead father gave it to him and..." Anirudh chuckled and raised his eyes and shrugged his shoulders to prove his point to the men in the language of mild arrogance which they were accustomed to.

"Yeah well... Carry on Sir. As you're already aware this is a highly restricted zone, hence we can't help but be a little extra careful." The officers chuckled back at him.

"Absolutely! You fine men are doing a wonderful job. Keep it up."
Anirudh smiled pleasantly at them as he excused himself and walked towards the entrance of the red walled building.

Surprisingly enough, there was no guard upon entry at the first turn inside the dark dampened tunneled corridor leading to the prison cells.
'There's always someone here...' Anirudh calculated, as his throat dried up even further. He strained his eyes to look carefully in the dark, signs of struggle evident in his observation. The wooden tripod chair on which the guard would usually sit was toppled at one corner, it's one leg broken as the wooden stake lay on the floor. Anirudh picked it up with trembling hands, a warm thick viscosity trickling from its sharper end.

The demon and angel warriors both have bloody hands, yet one is cold indifference and the other is pure love. One is vice, the other virtue, for they have found peace in their own philosopher's stone. To the undecided, to those that are confused, it is necessary that they choose a champion who can tell the difference and lead them into light of decision.
It took Anirudh Roy Chowdhury to gauze the severity of the situation. His hands were strained with fresh warm blood... and in his heart he knew the circumstances had escalated beyond repair.
He dropped the stake and stooped down on the narrow cold stone floor examining the dragged marks of the dark red fluid that had formed a trail leading to the east of the tapering corridor.
Anirudh quickly got up and followed the trail. There was a shallow flickering yellow electric light that had lit the eastern pathway inside the prison, the fresh blood strains were more prominent, more menacing.
A sharp grunt nudged his aural senses as he hid against a bending and peeked at the scene infront. A man in uniform was lying on the floor, his hands tied backward, his forehead bleeding and so was his leg. And, another man wearing a blood strained shirt was standing near him, facing his back towards Anirudh, fumbling with a bunch a big silver keys.