Territory of Bullets

Part 1

By Shromann Majumder

There was a dull sky upon us that day and we were enjoying the humidity of Agra. My history teacher Mr. Brodie McKenzie and I were in the shadows of one of the most beautiful structures on Earth. The fort was quite exquisite. Every piece had been preserved to its finest shape and colour. It was known as a gift of love from the former king, Shah Jahan, to his seventh wife. It was made with pure white marble, which was preserved in perfect condition. While the facade of the edifice was not as clean as it was a century ago (due to the nearby petroleum factory which had stained the roof), it had its beauty maintained from every angle. Near the entrance, there was a long row of antique fountains. Fifty metres from the end of the wells, the great marble hall was surrounded by three pillars. The fourth pillar appeared as an illusion. It was none other than the Taj Mahal.

Mr McKenzie, or Bro as I call him, and I began to view the fountains and pillars, capturing every moment we could. I was interested in Islamic manuscript, unlike Bro, who was constantly trying to figure out how the fourth imaginary pillar was standing when he could only see three. He later came to know from the locals that the illusion was a reflection of the remaining three pillars. We were having a quick laugh between ourselves, when suddenly it felt like time had paused. There was silence except for a Jeep's engine.

The Jeep gradually became louder and we soon saw a few tough men hanging on the side of the car with their faces' covered. Soon enough a flee market worker walking by shouted, "Terrorists!" While thunder struck on the peak of the Taj, I realised something bad was going to occur sooner or later after hearing the harsh voice of the worker. Seconds later the same person repeated his word but adding "terrorists" to it. I ran as fast as I could with a 500ml bottle of Coke- holding it in my left hand, which was my only weapon at that time. I spotted a public chair with some shopping bags on top of it and decided to hide beneath the chair, creating a wall of bags.

The dark jeep was racing towards the front garden of the Mahal, trashing the area like an ugly dumpster. The muddy tires ground against the pure grass and drifted towards the front of the Taj.

Bro seemed to be very confused at first, but caught up later with the hiding pattern. He was smart, and therefore made a better choice than me- hiding inside a bunch of bushes, surrounding one of the red pillars. A terrorist with the shape of a predator stepped out of his old-school tinted Jeep in complete black. Moments later, Bro received a call from his loving wife and a few messages following after. The messages were requesting Bro to have a quick chat with his missing daughter. Unfortunately the phone rang, and the ringtone was loud enough to be heard from a few meters away. I saw the terrorists’ ears twitch, and they scrolled their eyes to the bushes. Two feral men grabbed both of Bro's weak shoulders and dragged him out like plucking a plant from its soil. The terrorists were mainly known for their fractious behaviour. By this time I was certain that these evil and insular people were terrorists, and I could see that Bro was thinking the same thing. A terrorist came to my history teacher and questioned him with a sarcastic smile. "Who was on the phone?" Bro fiercely replied, "Someone who's much better than you." Bro had just begun verbally sparring with the despot to prove his bravery, but the leader didn't seem happy about it. Suddenly his face transitioned to look like a deadly tiger. Bro was sweating half a bucket and regretted his remarks immediately. "Take him in," the terrorist commanded the other two.

To be continued...