A Sincere Apology

"I am sorry"

Dear friends, it’s been a long journey since I started writing this blog. Back then, I hadn’t even imagined that it would  continue this long. But, with the constant support from generous people like Trisha, Wordwand and many others, I decided to carry on and in due course, I realized that it  has become an indispensable part of my life! I started out with little pieces of poetry and graduated to writing short stories. My recent short story series-The Counterstrike Files, is very close to my heart. However, I must admit that it has come at a very wrong time. The problem is, I have my CAT exams in about a month and naturally, it can decide my whole career and future. So, I am not in the right frame of mind to continue writing as frequently as I used to earlier. I know that it puts a big question over my credibility as a serious blogger and I am really very sorry about it. Recently, Trisha suggested that I don’t ignore my talent and keep writing. I am truly indebted to her for that. But, as for now, the circumstances are against me. I just hope that you all won’t give up on me. I really cherish this friendship that has blossomed between us through this blog-world.

Moreover, it’s not the end. I’ll still be writing; but not as frequently as earlier. Back to full action in November. Till then……please…please..please…don’t think that I am a slacker!


Messengers of Death: The Counterstrike Files-Part 3


contd. from part-II

“MAY DAY!! MAY DAY!! , WE ARE GOIN’ DOWN” The pilot’s voice was feverish. He was surely cursing himself for signing up for this mission which was doomed from the beginning itself. From low ammo, to killed secret operatives, nothing was going right for us. The helicopter was fast losing altitude. We were going to be dead even before we set foot on land………………………..maybe that was what fate had chosen for all of us….maybe this was our end……

7 November, Dept. of Defence, the Pentagon, Washington, USA

4:00 pm

Tiny beads of sweat cramped themselves beneath the stress marks on Maria Shriver’s forehead as she raced towards the Director’s office. At 35, she was too young to be the Head of The Covert Operations Wing (COW), but perseverance and intelligence beyond her age had propelled her to the post that was earlier dominated only by cigar smoking, fat ass Vietnam veterans. She had been called on board after Ezra Kramer, the erstwhile Head of COW, relinquished his post following allegations of graft and corruption.

Maria glanced just once towards the secretary who was busy doing some paperwork over her desk, and made her way towards the Director’s office.

“Hold it, right there Miss…You can’t go in now” .The Secretary was now looking towards Maria. Before she could say anything else, Maria produced her ID card from her pocket.

“I have to see the Director right now….It’s Urgent”. Maria was getting impatient and angry with each passing moment.

“I am sorry, Miss Shriver. The Director is in an important meeting. I can’t let you through no matter how important it is”.

Maria’s was not in a mood to have any more of the bullshit. She fumed- “Listen here lady, I don’t know if they gave you this job because of that tight ass of yours or because of that sluttish smile; but what I know is that five of our best soldiers are behind enemy lines, fighting for their lives half way round the globe; and if even one of them dies out there just because a nincompoop like you didn’t let me through, I am going to make sure that this is the last time you’ll be seen around here.”

That was enough. The assistant never uttered a word again nor moved . Maria walked towards the office with a sigh. She knew that the poor assistant was just doing her job, what she was told to do. But there were things that were far more important than her right now.

Maria stepped into the Director’s chamber. “Sir, we have a situation in Peru. We’ve lost all contact with one of our covert teams during the course of a mission there. Both the transport and escort helicopters have been destroyed by enemy fire. Some of our best men were aboard, sir.”

The Director, James Conklin, was a wrinkled, portly man in his mid-fifties. A veteran of the twin wars of America with Iran, he had devoted a good part of his life to Counter-Intelligence. From eliminating KGB agents within the agency to assassinating key figures in the Palestinian terrorist group-Hezbollah, he had done it all in his time.

Conklin looked once towards Maria and shifted his gaze to the report that was lying in front of him on the table. It was marked ‘CONFIDENTIAL’ in broad letters.

“We already know that Maria. These two gentlemen were telling me just that a moment ago”

Maria hadn’t seen the two people sitting in front of the Director till then. But once she looked at them, she could recognise them very well. The one with the crooked nose and the big moustache was Philip Liddell, the head of IMI, the internal intelligence wing within the army, which worked independently. The other one, with the pockmarked face , was Stavros Hunt, the Deputy Director of Intelligence for C.I.A.

“So, Maria, why don’t you grab a seat and tell us what the hell was our specialized unit of covert operatives doing in Peru?”….


Next: death lurks in every corner…..

Messengers of Death:The Counterstrike Files-PART 2


7 November, ( SOMEWHERE IN PERU)

The guys inside the chopper were talking and joking among themselves. In a few minutes, our helicopter would be hovering over the treacherous mountains of AZTEC, where we would be air-dropped, silently, with no one watching. No one knew what would happen next. And no one wanted to know as well. The future is best kept under wraps, no need pondering over things you can’t control. Incoming Intel from High Command indicated that the terrorists were mounting a major offensive at our Forward Base Camp at Aztec. Enough bloodshed had already occurred there, the latest being the killing of two members of the GHOST RECON team inside the jungles near AZTEC. They were ambushed, maimed and then shot point blank .Their bodies were thrown into the river that ran directly below AZTEC. Perhaps the terrorists wanted to send us a message- that no one could stop them from carrying out their barbaric acts of terror.

“Bloody damn those punks-If I get hold of one of ‘em, I m gonna barbecue his ass with this baby”-Dino said, showing off his Clarion. The Clarions and the Shotguns were the only notable weapons we had left, after multiple breakdowns of our supply lines owing to the cut-down in military spending by the Government. Peru was a hotbed of terrorists, dotted with numerous small jungles that gave them ample space and protection to carry out their heinous acts. Establishing a base there and protecting it from an imminent attack was a huge task. Not even the Marines dreamt of achieving such a feat.

2:45 pm

“ETA two minutes.Get ready, guys”-The pilot had hardly finished saying this when a hail of bullets struck the rear end of the helicopter.
“WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!!”- The pilot shouted. “Where is that damn escort helicopter?”

“Cobra One, Cobra One…. Do you read me?…….come in Cobra One”

“Roger , Stryker One, Hearing you loud and clear”

“We are under attack…Where the hell are you?”

“Hold on Stryker One, the enemy is hiding under the tree cover. I am not able to lock on to their position………”—Just then we heard a loud thud and a deafening boom followed, whose shock waves rattled our helicopter like a giant earthquake. The helicopter swerved violently, careening out of control……

The blast had taken out my ears, but my other senses were still working. From the corner of my eye, I could see a huge fiery ball of crumpled metal, making its way to the ground……..

“Thats Cobra one…..Thats our escort helicopter….My God!!!!”-I shouted.

It was then that I could see them…..men in fatigues, just like us…only their motives being more sinister….and cruel….. One thing was for sure…. they were no friendlies……not after making pulp of our escort helicopter……and there, at the small clearing, I could see him….holding a rocket launcher….aimed directly at us…….For a moment, I thought I saw him smiling….as if he was saying-“Now you are mine”…..and when that moment passed, reality dawned on me, striking me like an avalanche…..

“BRACE FOR IMPACT …..!!!!!” -before I could even complete my sentence, it struck us. First, there was a shrill swishing sound, as if something was cutting through the air like a knife. The next moment, we were staring at the gaping hole inside our helicopter. The rocket launcher had blasted off the rear rotor and one of the rotor blades had come crashing at the side. D_KILLER was nearly killed by the blade, he had the good sense to duck in time.

“MAY DAY!! MAY DAY!! , WE ARE GOIN’ DOWN” The pilot’s voice was feverish. He was surely cursing himself for signing up for this mission which was doomed from the beginning itself. From low ammo , to killed secret operatives, nothing was going right for us. The helicopter was fast losing altitude. We were going to be dead even before we set foot on land………………………..maybe that was what fate had chosen for all of us….maybe this was our end…….

Next Edition: Is this the end?

Messengers of Death:The Counterstrike Files-Part 1


Hello, my dear readers! This short-story series that I am going to present to you  is  the result of watching countless war-movies and playing numerous first-person shooter computer games. Back in college, not even a day went without playing counter-strike(a popular multiplayer PC game) at night over LAN. This series is a tribute to those days of glory, when every mouse-click meant a death spell for my enemies on the battle-field. Most of the names of the main protagonists in the story are actually the aliases that we used while playing the game. So, before carrying on the story, I would like to give you all a brief overview of the game.

Counter-strike is a first person shooter game, where the players are divided into terrorists(the bad-guys) and counter-terrorists(the good guys). The mission of either team is simple: to eliminate the opponent team.

In my story the counter-terrorists are:

  1. DINO

Don’t worry, the names sound funny because they were, infact aliases used by us to instill a sense of awe among our opponent team.

The Terrorists i.e the bad guys are:


Thats it! You can access other counter-strike stories written by me at:http://tezpurunv.ning.com/profiles/blog/list?user=2007ocmng2na4.



Saturday, 7th November: 2:30 am

It was another one of those uneventful, calm nights at our base camp in the small town of Arani, Bolivia. Such moments were rare for us, CTs(Counter-Terrorists); but whenever we got some, we liked to surrender ourselves to the leisures of sleep. The wind was blowing with full force outside, and as it passed our tents , it made an ominous hissing sound; as if trying to warn us about some impending danger .Danger…….every minute of our lives was filled with danger. Every breath of air that we took, every second of our life that passed, came ridden with an uncertainty about the future. Even sleeping wasn’t possible without your rifle protruding from underneath your pillow. But none of this was without a reason.

Power hungry psychopaths were lurking in every corner, ready to tear the civilization to bits at the least opportune moment; and we had to stop their nefarious plans at all costs. We were the key to the survival of the society against such harbingers of death and destruction. And we were prepared to do our duty till the last drop of blood remaining in our body.

As I was lost in my train of thoughts, the PAS (Public Announcement System) suddenly crackled to life and a female voice announced: “All units are requested to immediately proceed to the Mission Briefing Room. This is a Code- Red situation. I repeat-This is Code-Red. All units requested to proceed to Mission Briefing Room.”

Code-Red was similar to the Level-4 code used by the Pentagon to evaluate security emergencies. Code-Red was activated only when combat operatives went M.I.A( Missing in Action) or when there was an imminent attack on national security. What prompted the HQ to issue a Code- Red, was beyond me at that time; but became clear once we were in the Briefing-room. There, all the commandos of TEAM BRAVO, TEAM CHARLIE and my own, TEAM ALPHA were already present, listening to the C-in-C with rapt attention.

“Gentlemen, my apologies for calling you out at this inappropriate moment; but the situation is such that we had no other option.” The Commander continued, “Our intelligence indicates a huge surge in terrorist activity in the jungles near Machu Picchu, Peru. As you are well aware, AZTEC is one of our forward base camps in Machu Picchu which shares direct comm. links with HQ. All mission data and support is routed through AZTEC to other C.T stations. The increased terrorist presence around AZTEC can only mean that they are planning to attack it. We sent an advanced RECON team in the jungles near AZTEC. But before they could infiltrate the terrorist camp, they were ambushed and killed. However, the pictures that they were able to send us reveals some startling facts”. Saying this, he pressed a key on the computer which confirmed our worst fears: there were pictures of a full- fledged terrorist base and training camp in the jungles near AZTEC. Pictures of terrorists executing innocent civilians from nearby villages, and then dumping their bodies in hastily-dug trenches, spoke of their cruelty and disregard for human life.

“Bloody damn, eh! These buggers can’t stop targeting civilians”-someone said. I knew it was Dino. I could recognize his British accent anywhere. DINO was drafted from the British special unit-S.A.S. He had still not forgotten the atrocities committed by the Irish Militia against innocent civilians in his homeland during the 1960’s and these pictures touched a raw nerve in him. He was a small boy then and stories of terrorist excesses had a profound effect on his mind.

The Commander spoke, ”Team ALPHA, you have been assigned to counter any terrorist attack on AZTEC. But be advised-they are heavily armed and will probably outnumber you. Proceed with extreme caution. Your insertion will be by USMC CH-46 Sea Knight helicopters on the southern edge of AZTEC. From there, you’ll proceed to the L.Z and eliminate any enemy opposition. And remember: They will be expecting you…… ANY QUESTIONS? ”