A Bloody Bilateral Affair

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank my wife, Asha Jayanthi, for motivating me to write this novel. I could not have done this without her support. Thanks to my awesome son Dhyan (Yoyo) for not complaining through the endless hours I spent writing this novel, which I otherwise would have spent playing with him.

I wrote the first version of this novel back in 2012. At that time, I did not intend to publish this as a book. Thanks to Anoop Sasikumar, my college friend and an author whom I met fortuitously during the 2019 Kerala Literature Festival, for inspiring me to publish it. The political climate of India has changed a lot over the last decade. This was also a major reason for me to re-write the book with additional content, which I thought I should discuss with the world. This is my bit of contribution back to the society.

Thanks to my buddies Ananth, Akhil, Rakesh and Sridhar for sharing the world of creativity with me.

Thanks to all the amazing people who have helped me improve the content of this book: Nithya, Anjana Raj, Rajeev Kurien, Vishnu Badhran, Arun S Nair and Sibin Joseph. A special thanks to Rincy Raju for providing detailed feedback along with many constructive improvements for the book.

Thanks to Sasankan Nair and Jayanthi T, my parents-in-law for all the support they gave me during the COVID lockdown of March 2020, when I re-wrote the novel into its current shape.

I should also thank my sister, Smitha Hariprasad, for consistently motivating the writer in me, right from my childhood. Last, but certainly not the least, I thank my parents, A. Narayanan Nair and Chandrika E., for bringing me into this wonderful world.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Sreekant Narayan is a Senior Product Manager at Google, UK. He is an engineering graduate and a gold medalist from IIM, Kozhikode. He has been always passionate about writing and has written multiple short stories in the past. A Bloody Bilateral Affair is his first novel. As a freethinker and proponent of science, his stories convey progressive ideas. Apart from writing, his interests lie in technology, sports, travelling, and cinema.

Born in Kerala, he lives with his wife and son in London.

PROLOGUE

26 November 2018

Gateway of India, Mumbai

The Gateway of India was lit up with candles. Those tiny dots of light in the darkness were reminiscent of the unfortunate event which had unfolded a decade ago, in the same locality. What was now infamously referred to as the ‘26/11 attack’ had happened exactly 10 years ago, but its wounds were still unhealed in Indian hearts. Thousands had gathered for the candlelight march to remember that tragic day.

The gathering and candlelight march to remember 26/11 had changed in tone over the last 10 years. It was no longer silent and peaceful. People from different walks of life gathered to demonstrate their resolve against terrorism. Indian authorities knew very well such massive crowds would be a soft target for terror groups. The Senior Superintendent of Police, Ahmed Siddiqui, was among the top NIA (National Investigation Agency) cops present on site to prevent any such mishap. They had received intelligence earlier that month about a possible terrorist attack in Mumbai. The NIA was formed in 2009 after the 26/11 attack, when the Indian government realised the need for a central agency to combat terrorism. The NIA officers were drawn mainly from the Indian Police Service.

Siddiqui was in command of the Gateway of India quadrant. He called up the control room at frequent intervals to keep abreast of the situation. It was around 8:40 p.m. when his local radio transceiver beeped: ‘High alert. We have found an IED!’

‘Give me more details, specifically the coordinates,’ asked Siddiqui tersely.

‘Just outside the gate, north side of the tower.’

‘Watch out for anyone who looks suspicious. I’m redirecting more men for your support. Give orders to evacuate the place. I want a 200-metre radius from the place it was spotted to be cleared within the next 15 minutes,’ ordered Siddiqui.

‘Yes, sir,’ replied the officer from the other side.

Siddiqui informed his superiors and the control room about the incident. He gave orders to his boys to send in more gunmen. Then he, along with his team, moved towards the hotspot.

The bomb was deactivated in under 15 minutes by the Explosive Ordinance Disposal team. The NIA team and the local police were meticulous in their work. There was a note deliberately left for the police, not far from the location where the IED was spotted. It was a personal note for Ahmed Siddiqui along with a verse taken from the Holy Quran:

Ahmed Siddiqui,

In August, you arrested two of our men from Hyderabad. We know you are planning more similar raids across the country.

You kafir, aren’t you ashamed of being a traitor? How many more of our brothers will you arrest and torture?

To Allah belongs the Unseen of Heavens and Earth. The Hour can come in the blink of an eye, or even nearer. Truly! Allah is capable of doing anything! The consequences will be bad. Really bad!

The end is near and the signs are right in front of our eyes! It’s going to happen soon, and we are not alone in this battle.

It was not the first time Siddiqui had received such a threat. He read the last few words again: The end is near and the signs are right in front of our eyes! It’s going to happen soon, and we are not alone in this battle.

After all, it was not one individual’s battle but rather a holy war waged by a brotherhood against its purported enemies. While the NIA had been busy deactivating the bomb, the man who planted it had managed to escape the perimeters set by Siddiqui. His name was Mohammed Jamal. He was an Indian.

The operation which the NIA busted that day was meant to be a joint execution between a Pakistani terrorist group and its Indian counterpart. As the operation failed, Mohammed Jamal had been instructed by his higher-ups to leave the city as soon as possible. Although he did take a train immediately as per this command, his mind was still disturbed. He was on a jihadi mission and had failed to execute it successfully. He had failed his brothers, and thereby failed Allah. He took out his copy of the Holy Quran from his bag and started slowly reading through the verses. He drew courage and strength from them. It gave him inner peace from the external turbulence. The engine had a thumping cadence which broke the calmness of the night and further distressed Jamal. He was heading to his next destination already—to the northernmost part of India, Jammu and Kashmir. That’s where he would prepare and execute his next mission. A mission that would be successful.

1

Aditya

13 February 2019

Pattaya, Thailand

11:50 p.m.

Thailand is a hot tourist destination for bachelors—little wonder since it offered food, drinks, beaches, beautiful girls and freedom galore! The pub was crowded with people representing multiple ethnicities. If my statistical estimation under intoxication was not erroneous, almost 50% of the crowd were Indian stags below the age of 30. I, Aditya Narayan, was one of them.

It was a long overdue vacation. Five of us from Bangalore had decided to take a break from our office routines and spend some quality bachelor time together on the beaches of Pattaya. We drank and danced through the evening and eventually, in an absolute trance induced by heavy metal music, welcomed Valentine’s Day 2019 with a mandatory pub count-down. A few moments later I was craving fresh air and decided to slip out to the beachside.

Peace!

The beach was safe from human hubbub since most love-bitten beings were still inside the pubs. I took out my cell phone intending to wish my ex-girlfriends back in India a happy Valentine’s Day, but the residual sanity within me prudently revolted at the notion. I sat on the concrete platform of a pier with my legs dangling, immersing them in the seawater of the Gulf of Thailand. Relishing the moment, I took another sip from my bottle of Chang beer—a Thai special—while a pleasant, cold breeze electrified the ambience. A strange piece of trivia flashed inside my head—this was the exact same inter-connected water body in which I take a dip at Calicut, my hometown. It is called the Arabian Sea in my part of the world.

I had the urge to listen to some light music. I took my cell phone out and played my curated A.R. Rahman playlist. Gurus of Peace started playing in the background as my sight wandered around the vastness of the sea. I sat there all alone, miles away from home, listening to that magical music. A few moments passed.

‘I love this song…’

I almost fell into the water when I heard a sweet female voice out of the blue. When I turned around, I beheld one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen. She was dressed in black. Her curly hair was trying to hide a part of her eyelashes. Her smile was graceful, and she stood beaming, an aura of positivity around her.

‘Hi… I’m Laila, and sorry for bothering you, but I could hear that song from over there. I couldn’t stop myself from coming over to say hi,’ she said, pointing towards a pier nearby, a few yards away from where I was sitting.

I sat there, thunderstruck for a second or two more than I should have, and then impulsively stood up, took her offered hand and shook it gently.

‘Hi, I’m Aditya. And yeah, I love this song too,’ I smiled.

‘Sorry for disturbing you, I guess you were enjoying your solitude.’

‘No, no, it’s fine. I just came out of the pub a few minutes back. It was becoming stuffy inside.’

‘Yeah, same here. I also came to Thailand to party with this kind of crowd, but then I got bored of it too easily, too fast.’ She laughed.

‘Do you want to join me for some time…? I don’t mind sharing this solitude. It’s free,’ I said.

She hesitated at first, but then looked into my eyes, as though to reaffirm that I would not be disturbed by her presence. She removed her high heels and kept them aside, pulled up her long dress a bit above her knees, dipped her legs into the water and sat beside me.

‘Tu kahan se hain?’ (Where are you from?) She asked in Hindi.

‘I’m from Kerala,’ I replied in English.

‘You don’t speak Hindi?’ she asked, surprised.

‘See, us Keralites can understand Hindi very well, but we’re not very fluent in speaking it. At least I’m not.’ I replied. Damn, I thought, I have lost it already!

She gave me a look of surprise.

‘Where are you from?’ I asked.

‘Punjab,’ she said with a sheepish grin.

There you go, I thought.

‘So, you’re here with friends?’ I asked her, hoping not to hear, ‘No, with my husband.’ I estimated from her looks that she would be in her mid-twenties.

‘I’m on a solo trip,’ she said.

‘You came alone to Thailand to enjoy Valentine’s Day?’

‘Yes. Is there a problem with that?’ she asked.

‘No, in fact that’s awesome!’ I replied, meaning it.

I was enjoying the conversation. A beautiful girl and I, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder under a moonlit night on the sandy beaches of Pattaya.

‘Would you like a beer?’ I asked.

‘No, thanks. I don’t drink, or rather, I haven’t tried it till now. So, no.’

I was not expecting this at all from a Punjabi girl. I generally appreciated it when someone from my generation accepted with a good attitude that it is totally normal not to drink.

Meanwhile, the song continued to play in the background.

‘I love his voice. I really miss him,’ said Laila. I knew she was talking about the late Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, who had sung the song along with A.R. Rahman.

After a pause, she said, ‘He is from my country.’

‘What the… Where?’

She chuckled, enjoying my animated facial expression of confusion.

‘Yeah. There is a Punjab in our Pakistan too, and Nusrat ji is from my Punjab.’

I didn’t want to be but I was shocked at hearing the word Pakistan. A sudden light of disappointment flashed in my heart. Our brain has its own ways of querying the database and retrieving results from the past, and the word Pakistan does not return many good things for an average Indian brain.

Ironically, A.R. Rahman from India and Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan from Pakistan continued to sing together, now closing out the song.

I translated those Hindi lines to English in my head.

‘When the moon, the sun and the thousands of stars are all yours,

Then why do battles happen?

Lines are drawn on the ground, but don’t draw them between two hearts…’

2

13 February 2019

New Delhi, India

Control room, Cyber Forensics Unit, Research and Analysis Wing

The Research and Analysis Wing or RAW is the primary intelligence agency of India. It came into existence in 1968, soon after the 1965 India-Pakistan war. Lately, counterterrorism had become one of the most important agendas of RAW and because of that, they had to work closely with the NIA.

Ahmed Siddiqui was at the RAW Headquarters in Delhi. He and his team were closely monitoring all flagged calls forwarded by the RAW technicians. Satellite transmissions, mainly international calls, undergo deep packet inspections while a huge RAW task team works on a 24/7 basis to monitor any suspicious conversations made over the wire. Many keywords like Pakistan, jihad, terrorism, etc., are immediately caught by the AI platform and flagged for manual verification. On a special day like 14 February, there would be huge traffic and it would be less challenging for someone to easily escape the police’s radar and pass desired information across the border to someone in India. Siddiqui could not take any chances due to two reasons: One, the note recovered by his team from Mumbai in November had partially revealed a possible terror attack that would take place soon. Two, a mistake had been already made by Indian intelligence and that could not be repeated under any circumstances—the mistake of the 26/11 Mumbai attacks.

Before 26/11, RAW had intercepted several international telephone calls which pointed at impending attacks on Mumbai hotels by Pakistan-based terrorists. At that point, neither RAW nor the Office of National Security had taken any serious follow-up actions to prevent probable terror attacks. It proved to be a costly mistake. A few hours before the attacks, a RAW technician who was monitoring satellite transmissions had picked up conversations between attackers and their handlers as the attackers were sailing towards Mumbai. He had flagged the conversations as deep red. RAW immediately alerted the office of the National Security Advisor. However, this intelligence was ignored. It was too late.

RAW and the Indian government had to do something to save face. Right after the attack, RAW technicians started monitoring the six phones used by the terrorists and managed to record conversations between them and their handlers. After a series of successful interceptions and decoding, RAW finally met with some success. On 15 January 2010, RAW agents nabbed Sheikh Abdul Khwaja, one of the handlers and most-wanted terror suspects in India, from Colombo in Sri Lanka. Ahmed Siddiqui still remembered those days clearly, but with a slight feeling of shame in his own heart.

‘Sir, there is huge traffic. Almost 20% more than what we had anticipated,’ reported one of the senior technicians to Siddiqui.

‘I want only the calls marked deep red to be inspected live. All others should be recorded and inspected offline, within the next 48 hours,’ replied Siddiqui.

‘Do you want a filter based on geographical location, sir?’ asked the technician.

‘Yes. Apply a Prior-A landing filter too and give me the consolidated report,’ replied Siddiqui.

A Prior-A geographical filter was used to segregate and increase the priority of calls that were being monitored by deep packet inspection software, based on the call landing geographical points. All locations in India were not eligible to be monitored for probable terror information. Therefore, RAW had identified some key geographical locations within India where their AI system’s radars were programmed to scan more closely. Prior-A locations would be defined based on the history of terror activities reported in the past and their sensitivity. Siddiqui had just given orders to his technicians to raise the gradient of calls landing to such locations. All ears, both human and machine, were on high alert to monitor those calls.

3

Aditya

14 February 2019

Pattaya, Thailand

‘T ell me about the political situation back home these days,’ I broke the silence.

‘No politics. No war. No terrorism. I don’t want to talk about any of these. I came to Thailand to enjoy myself, to take a break,’ Laila replied immediately. There was a slight shimmer of anger in her voice. At least, I felt so.

‘Tough question, is it? Okay, here goes an easier one. How about trying beer for the first time in your life?’

She looked surprised but replied, ‘I always wanted to, but see…uh…there are certain things which…’

‘It’s okay, you don’t need to explain. I can understand your feelings. It’s this craving to taste something that has been forbidden for years. Right?’ I asked.

She smiled and nodded in acceptance.

‘You are very lucky. You won’t get a better partner to open this event in the entire world. We Keralites are very famous for drinking, and many drunkards in history started their careers with us. Try it.’ I handed over my bottle of beer to her.

She took a