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I narrated a few more similar incidents and said, `Those were my activities in detail, sir, while I served in Samba.' Then I looked up helpfully at the interrogators - wishfully thinking they would let me go.

`Who all were your good friends, and the colleagues, seniors and subordinates with whom you had close and cordial relations?' Asked KSS.

I recounted the names of all such persons adding, `In fact I had cordial relations with everyone.'

At that moment, the door opened. I saw major S.C. Jolly entering the room dramatically. Bending a little forward, slowly lifting and placing each step in turn, hands swinging like the motion of leaves and shouting, `liar! liar!! liar!!!. The bastard is a liar. Gentlemen, whatever he told you is a complete lie.'

The happiness which had flashed in me on seeing Jolly disappeared like lightning behind clouds, when I heard that everything had come to a standstill. I watched the scene helplessly like a stranger in a strange land. I found myself looking at Major Jolly and through him, to our sweet association of the past; marvelling at the changed attitude of this officer whom I always adored.

`Look you bastard, you have been fooling these innocent police officers fot the past number of days. But you can't fool me.... your Pop, Pop who has known for complete two years.' Jolly shouted at me.

Listening to Jolly, for a few seconds, I was competely dumb. And when I spoke, I felt my words coming from a far off place. I said, `Jolly, sir tell me, have you gone out of your senses? Whatever shit you're talking from which it appears you have you're saying this!.... this to me? To me whom you always loved and liked. And more so when you know me, know my morality and my dedication to the work which you have admitted so many times and that too before the senior officers?' I stopped for a pause and, looking into Jolly's eyes, added, `It's terrible. Terrible to listen to this rubbish from your mouth.'

`Shut up you traitor,' shouted Jolly and added, `Yes I know you, I know bastards like you. I have to know, otherwise how can they be brought to book?... if you think you've a little sense and if you love your life, then blurt out the dirt.'

In my derelict and precarious condition, I found a surge of bitterness and anger overpowering me. When I spoke, I spoke with charged emotions. `Don't fuckin' well call me a traitor. Understand? And now, speak what? I'm fed up with listening to this speak out, speak out, speak of what, when I've spoken out my heart. Now listen you all, and carefully. I have nothing to....'

I was cut short with a slap with chappal on my face by Jolly, my best friend! I felt a stabbing pain for a moment and thereafter, I could not remember anything as I slumped to the ground, unconscious.

I remained senseless for hours on end. When revived I felt excruciating pain tearing my mind apart. I remembered the behaviour of Jolly with remorse. Ìncredible', I uttered to myself. Then, slowly I opened my eyes and inspected the surroundings. I found the door of the cell was open and the iron bars shutter was pulled on the door. At least some fresh air, I thought.

I saw a sentry standing in the gallery looking at me with a kind of pity in his eyes. Then suddenly, I felt terribly thirsty. `Can I have a glass of water?, `I pleaded in my weak voice to the sentry. The sentry kept his finger on his lips, an indication to remain quiet. Then, slowly he moved away and brought a glass of water, hidden in his pouch. Looking nervously for any sign of danger, yet with a desire to help me, the sentry slid the glass quickly through rectangled space of the iron shutter. In the process, half of the water spilled out. I quickly grabbed the glass and gulped the water down in half a breath. Then licking my dry lips with the tongue, I looked at the sentry with imploring looks for some more water. `I shall bring more, a little later,' the sentry coughed to assure himself that nothing had happened, stood erect, then winked at me giving an indication of the approaching danger and telling me in a whisper to keep lying and pose as unconscious. While telling this the sentry looked at the ceiling. At that moment, I heard the voice of Chotte Sahib asking the sentry. `Has he come to his senses?'.... Then a voice came from closeby - the jingling of the shutter. The Chotte Sahib entered the door and said, `My God! It's killing!!' These remarks were a reference to the foul smell permeating the air from a source, the unwashed, unwashed, with thick coat of sweat mixed in blood resulting from nose bleeding and other small wounds - my skeleton. The Chotte Sahib took my wrist in his hand to feel the pulse. Then, he placed one of his hands on my burning head. The placing of his hand by Chotte Sahib gave lot of relief to me. But I remained unmoved, pretending unconsciousness.

I heard Chotte Sahib saying, `The bastard is hell of a tough guy. After so much torture and beating, he's not given in. But anyway how long can he stand up to this... Well let me try.' I found my body being shaken by Chotte Sahib who was asking me to get up. And then he gave up.

I was in my senses. But I pretended successfully to be out of senses. So, the Chotte Sahib, instructing the sentry to awaken him when I was revived, left. After about fifteen minutes, the sentry gave me a tumbler full of water and said, `Your life is spoiled sahib. The way they are torturing you makes our blood boil. But what then? We are quite helpless; we can't do any thing.' Then he asked innocently, `Sahib are you really a spy?'

Hearing that, for a moment I forgot all the pains, then looking at the sentry asked, `What do you think?'

`We can't believe it. But they are saying they have all the proofs against you,' replied the sentry.

`Well brother, I don't know what proofs they are talking about. It all sounds absurd.... But there has to be something, which rightly or wrongly they know about and believe to be correct. Otherwise, they would not have reduced me to the present state.... Now, what is that, how do they know and who is responsible for incriminating me? I've no answers to these questions; I don't know.... It's a mystery to me. I wish they ask me directly. Only then can I clear their doubts. But alas!... `Staring into space, I muttered,' God alone knows why I'm made to suffer this humiliation and disgusting brutal torture... or.... How long this will continue; whether I will be pull myself through or die.... I don't know.'I breathed deeply and looked at the sentry.

Anyway sahib, if you're innocent God will see to it, don't worry.' The sentry consoled and offered me a biree to smoke.

Despite my crushing pains, I felt emotionally moved at this humane gesture of the sentry. I was disallowed smoking since the day I had been brought to this slaughterhouse. So I greedily accepted the offer. The sentry lit two birees and nervously, gave one to me, retaining the other for himself.

`Thank you.... Thank you so much brother,' I expressed my gratitude and smoked with relish till there was nothing left of the biree. After smoking, I asked the sentry, `What's the time?' It was 2:30 A.M. and the date 30 August.

`30 August?' I asked in surprise.

`Yes. And, sahib I have strict orders to make you stand, the moment you regain consciousness. But seeing your condition, the only thing I can do to help you is to allow some rest. So, you better sleep,' advised tue sentry.

There was a chain of disorderly thoughts, like the cast of a film screened before the start of a picture - some readable, the others half read and remaining unread, when the viewer unable to keep pace with the fast changing cast, just stares, without any further attempt to read. I let my thoughts go astray, and along with the thoughts fell asleep on the only item in the cell; the rough coir mat, despite all the shooting pains in my body.

`However, the sleep didn't last long. I found myself up on my feet, after I had received a hard kick from the Chottee Sahib, and like an automation started counting the numbers. `Nine thousand nine hundred ninety eight... ninety seven.... six...'

It was the fifth or sixth or even the seventh day, since it was difficult for me to keep count, without sleep, rest, all the time either standing and counting the numbers or receiving severe beating, except when I was unconscious. I started loosing control over my senses, giving way to an unknown fear. I started trembling at the mere sight of Chotte Sahib or the interrogators. I saw my death looming large in them.

I was led to the interrogation room. Instead of two, now there were three butchers ready to suck the marrow from my bones.

`Heh - heh - heh. See here comes your friend Major sahib!' remarked KSS in sarcasm. Jolly looked at me for a few seconds and said, `Sit down you bastard.' And I obeyed.

`Ohe! Why the hell are you keeping your hands under your arse?' shouted KSS.

I didn't answer, but looked at KSS with the eyes of a goat taken for slaughter. At that, KSS got up, came near me and muttering, `You heard me, what did I ask?' slapped my face, adding, `You better answer fast, when I ask you. Understand, you mother fucker?'

I saw myself trapped in an utterly hopeless situation, where I could do nothing. Then I said, `Can't you see, my hands are cuffed behind?... where do you expect me to keep them? Under ....' I wanted to say `your arse', but kept quiet.

`Why? Why are you handcuffed? You must have done something wrong to annoy Chotte Sahib' said KSS stupidly...

`Didn't you hear what I'm asking?', KSS shouted at the top of his voice.

answered quickly, `I don't know sirs.... I really don't know what have I done to annoy anyone.... So what can I say?'

`Okay. This time I shall make you comfortable, but be careful in future. If I find you again handcuffed by the Chotte Sahib, then it might prove hard for you. And, bastard you're an officer; don't you feel ashamed if these inspectors handcuff you?' Saying this, KSS shouted for Chotte Sahib and, when he came, asked him to open the shackles.

Listening to the childish and irrelevant questions and finding myself forced to reply, to avoid beating, I was puzzled and lost. I did not understand nor did I know, what I should do to avoid getting slowly, but surely killed. `Oh God! How to pull through', I thought in utter desperation.

Logic and intelligence succeeds, but only when there is some one to appreciate to analyse such logic; not where the people are devoid of theintelligence to analyse such logic; not where the minds are pre-biased; not where the fools entertain a worng notion of being intelligent. And such I thought were my interrogators.

`All right. Now tell us, where all did you go and who all did you meet, after your arrival in Delhi?.. And don't try to hide anything or befool us. You have befooled us enough,' commanded Major Jolly.

`Well sir, you think so. I didn't. Nor have I any reason to befool you. But if you're thinking so, then how can I help that...'

`Shut up, and proceed to do what you've been asked to.'

I told them in detail about the places I had gone to and the people I had visited after my arrival in Delhi.

`Whose telephone numbers are lying in your sut case?'

`My sut case? How do you know there are telephone numbers?' so my box too has been opened in my absence: I want to know why? Who's got the right to do so? Why? Couldn't my box be opened in my presence? It's not that it matters, but a question of principles...'

`Chaudhary sahib I think we got to teach him principles first, before we asked any thing else,' KSS suggested. The Chotte Sahibs were called and I was laid on the table; flat on my stomach pressed by Chotte Sahibs, Jolly and Chaudhary. Thereafter KSS started hammering the soles of my feet with a ruler mercilessly, the feet which had become like feet of an elephant due to

swelling caused by continuous standing. I shouted like a madman. It was beyond my physical or mental powers to bear this extreme brutal beating. I pleaded for mercy, I pleaded that I would not annoy them and I should be spared. At that I was left to cry. And cry I did, like an orphan child, but without any effect on the brutes who were devoid of any human feelings, I told them, the numbers were that of my friend Pasha and my sister's son.

`But we have checked; at these numbers no one knows you,' Jolly said.

Ìt's because, sir, the telephones belong to other people who live nearby. So obviously the owners don't know me, but they know my friend and my nephew,' I replied while wiping my tears with the torn sleeve of my stinking shirt.

`Okay, now tell us about Major Midha and Havildar Ram Sarup? What all did you talk to them?' Queried Major Jolly.

`I have already told you in detail; the time the date and the talk. Haven't I, sir? But if you again want I'll again tell you,'

`Hmmm, leave that. But you have been telling people here that you know about the interrogation. Haven't you?'

`Yes, sir. I did tell a few people and I told them also,' I said pointing to KSS and Mr. Chaudhary.

`Well if you're innocent then how the hell did you know it was interrogation?' asked Chaudhary.

I looked at all the three in contempt then suddenly remembering the beating, changed my expression. Then I explained in detail once again, about all the emaciated efforts to make the plan workable. I said, `sir, who under these circumstances would not know what it was? If one is a bit intelligent.'

`The problem with you bastard is that you are not only intelligent but super intelligent. Anyway rest assured; unless you come out with the dirt yourself, we will smash this brain of yours and throw it to the ants. Remember that. You think we can't do that?' said Jolly.

`Yes, sir, you can. I have no illusion that you cannot. You not only can do it, but you'll do so. Because I have no dirt in me to take out. And under the circumstances the only thing left for you to do is to smash my brain,' I looked at each of them and added,' so, sirs, I have a request. Kindly smash the brain quickly and relieve me of this inhuman torture.'

`Don't worry son. We'll not let you die so soon. Have you seen a dog dying?... You shall meet your end worse than a dog's death. If you have not seen one dying, you would soon see it for yourself.... tst... tst. Sorry but you wónt live to narrate your experience to others,' spoke KSS, grinding his teeth and twitching his face. Then turning to his other companions he said, `I think we should give him an hour or two. In that let him decide. Which way he would like to be treated,' and turning to me said `Did you hear that, you burn, son of a dog.'...

`Chotte Sahib, take this Dracula away,' KSS commanded. Thereafter I was sent back to the cell.

Immediately after lunch I was led back to the interrogation room. My blindfold was removed and I saw Major Midha sitting with the interrogators. Seeing him I saw a little streak of hope, an illusion which was soon dispelled. Major Midha strongly refuted any talk between us or having advised me to see the DMI. I could see clearly the contemptuous face, reflecting extreme hatred. He denied and belittled any knowledge about me or anything to do with my work.

It was a short interview. When Major Midha left, Havildar Ram Sarup was brought in. The interrogators asked Ram Sarup in my presence, if the latter had any talk which I had told the interrogators, that I had with him. like Midha, Ram Sarup also denied it. I saw clearly but with remorse, that my friends whom I held in esteem, were turning their faces away like strangers. What could I do? My friends had just tried to falsify the truth. In a desperate attempt to remind. Havildar Ram Sarup about the talks between us, I said, `But Ram Sarup I told...'

`You told me nothing and don't tell lies Sahib,' interrupted Ram Sarup. I looked at him in disgust, only a week ago, I remembered this worthy and loyal NCO swearing by his loyalty and here he was lying innocently. Phew!

I gave a derisive glance and looked away. I heard KSS shouting. `You are an intelligent liar but your game is now over.' Then KSS turned to Ram Sarup and said,' Thanks very much for telling us the truth. You may go.' Ram Sarup gave a nervous look at me and left.

Was Ram Sarup driven by the unknown forces of fate when he had denied a simple truth? Probably, yes. Because it was a look which turned out to be the last. I was never to see him again; except to hear the heart shattering cries, at the same place nearly after a month, before he was killed. He was tortured to death by the same persons who had thanked him for `telling the truth'. Was it fate that had contrived against the NCO? Once Ram Sarup left, the interrogators fell on me like hungry vultures on a carcass, denuding it or flesh with their sharp curved beaks and then breaking even the bones, one after the other. They slapped me, hit the soles of my feet with a ruler, bashed me up in my hips; and beat me with any weapon that was available to them. They

pricked under the finger nails of my left hand with a needle, mercilessly and this was the most painful of all the tortures. Then they pulled away the hair of my moustache, one by one.

Under this hopeless situation I dragged on for two more days. Physically I was in hopelessly precarious condition. I was once again in the throes of agony which led me to the extreme and