The Covert Perspective

By Sambhav Ratnakar

An unexceptional teenager, Amit Joshi discovers a confounding secret his grandfather once held. In a few hours, his life changes completely; he now has to steal the most mysterious puzzle piece in Indian history. A new subject has been added to the top of the Intelligence Bureau’s surveillance list. The suspect is a 14 year old.

Sambhav Ratnakar was born on 6th June 2000 and is a writer, blogger best known for his fictional blog, DhoklaRises.com. He wrote his first book at the age of 9, but decided not to get it published since it was a bit too early for him to be involved in a lawsuit with Marvel Along with writing, he is also obsessed with making the impossible possible and regularly takes up new projects that get his adrenaline going.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Diamond Books
• Release date: Jun 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9788128834400

Book preview

Prologue

To the honorable President of India,

Respected Sir,

I am a Hindu, but I don’t pray to all the 330,000,000 Gods we have in our religion. Do you? I hope not, because if you did, I’m sure you won’t have enough time to do your ‘very important job’.

You know, as a child I always thought we knew everything. What we could see was all there, but it turned out it wasn’t quite like that.

Not every murderer is known, not every death is recorded, not every human being in the history of mankind is remembered and not every God’s name is memorised by me.

That doesn’t mean they don’t exist, it either means we weren’t bothered, or someone hid the truth. Have you ever hidden anything from us? I hope not.

I would like you to think about that again though.

Let’s go on to something else in the meantime, I shall give you some more time to think.

Are you a neta? It seems to be. I’ve heard of another person who is known to be a neta. In fact, he is known by that name too: Netaji, a man I most admire. Have you heard of him? He was a living legend, wasn’t he? Well, until he died in a ‘tragic plane crash in Japan’.

Why have I put quotation marks at the end of that sentence you ask?

It is because some believe he did not die in a tragic plane crash, and the ones who do, well, say just that: a tragic plane crash.

The ones who do not believe, think like me; just because we don’t know about it, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.

Let me come back to my question for you then: Have you hidden anything from us?

I believe there are two ways of concealing a secret: 1. Leave no trace of it. 2. Replace it with a lie.

So which option will you choose, Mr.President?

And remember, denial is for kids, not netas.

1

One of the blemished taps in the washroom was leaking. I listened as the drops of water fell on the shiny white basin while I was lying down. It was dark yet I could see everything clearly. The time was close to midnight, but the sound of the cars driving by made you feel like it was lunch time.

It was that unpleasant night when you just know something wrong is about to happen. Something terribly wrong. Something that can change your life. Or, well, end it.

At that exact moment when I was getting up to find a glass of water, I heard a loud thud sound. It was as if someone was bashing an object on a metal surface. Again and again. It got louder after every blow. The sound was coming from directly above me.

It stopped. I heard a much louder noise of a large piece of metal falling down and then there was no more. Everything was still. I could not hear anything, not even the cars going by. It was as if time had paused.

Slowly, I gathered the courage to peek out of my room. There was no one in sight. I carefully opened the door, hoping it wouldn’t creak. As I passed through the dining room to break the news to my parents, I heard someone hitting the wooden door with their hand behind me. It was fast, very fast. As if their life depended on it. I froze.

Help! he shouted, Open the door!

I could feel my heart pumping hard. As if it was going to pop out any second. I tried turning back, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I was weak. I didn’t have control over myself.

Dad came out of his room; he switched on the lights with an expression on his face I had never seen before. He calmly walked towards the door and let Kunal in. There was blood all over his face, and his clothes were drenching in it. All I could do was watch as he slid down on the ground.

A puddle of red liquid formed around him.

My father stood there without a word, expecting an explanation. He wasn’t the typical army man. Well, he was - in a way. But he never shouted, he never showed any arrogance or pretended to be superior or stronger than anyone. Silence was his weapon.

Not on the battle field though.

I was sleeping in my room when they started banging the door, Kunal confessed, I thought it was you, so I opened it.

Who are they? my father asked with a changing expression. I wasn’t quite sure what it was. Kunal didn’t reply. Everyone was silent. The absence of sound prevailed for some time until I mustered up the courage to say something, How many of them are up there? I asked and ended up stammering.

Kunal didn’t have the energy to speak. He moved his lips, but no words came out. That, however, was enough for my father to understand the intensity of the situation. There were two men. We lip read. And then, instantly, my father reacted with the words, Amit, get a golf club from the store room. At this point, I must confess that he was slightly unsure, but not afraid. If there was a time for him to be afraid, this was it, but he didn’t show the slightest hint of weakness. In any case, I’d never seen him be afraid of anything. It was as if that expression didn’t exist in his world. Or maybe, he’d just been through so much of it that he no longer cared.

My father never spoke about his adventures. He never uttered a word. He never said a thing about what went on there. Sometimes, he would be gone for days, even weeks.

Every time he went, he parted company as if he’d never return again. But every time, he would return.

This time, I wasn’t sure. This time was different. You see, while on duty, you know the worst case scenario. In life, they’re beyond our imagination.

I’m coming with you, I replied, I wanted to go with him, just this once. There’re two of them, and you’re one.

I expected him to argue, but he didn’t.

Very well, bring two, he said while picking up the landline and dialing the three numbers: ‘100’.

Quickly, I ran towards the back of the house, near the exit and entered the store room. In front, lay three golf bags. I took one from each.

Hurry up! he shouted, as I was closing the door behind me. I ran back towards balcony exit and gave him a driver. I kept a seven iron for myself and kept a putter next to Kunal. Just in case, I explained. My father peeked out of the window, possibly to check if the coast was clear. Carefully, he opened the lock, and we escaped into darkness. The rain instantly drenched us both. Follow me, he said, although I could hardly hear him over as the large droplets splat everywhere.

We climbed up the spiral stairs which would lead us to the rooftop. There was no canopy above us, and the water made it extremely easy to slip. Vigilant, I held the white iron railing with one hand and the golf stick with the other.

It started with a slight movement at first but then it evolved into a much greater shake. I watched in horror as the spiral staircase shivered. It’s an earthquake, I shouted to my father, stating the obvious. He didn’t reply. My foot slipped, but I managed to regain balance by letting go of the golf stick and holding the railing with both hands. Two-hundred feet above the surface of the earth, all I could do was watch as the seven iron fell and shattered a car’s glass. In a fraction of a second, large pieces of glass spread across the