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VOX
PRIMA PARS

SUBHO PATI SANYAL

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 © Subho Pati Sanyal

Voices are different for different individuals. This book

is my humble endeavour to share the voices that are
spoken by their conscience, their heart, their mind as
well as their egos and conditions. Voices are honest
and undaunted and shape us and our entire lives.

Subho Pati Sanyal

subhopati@gmail.com

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Infinite thanks to Her Holiness Shri Mataji Nirmala Devi
for creating me and then again giving me my second
birth and permitting me to surrender my life to Her
Divine Lotus Feet.

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Infinite thanks to my wife Debarati for choosing me for
her life’s journey and gifting and adorning my life with
the most precious gift - The Gift of Innocence and giving
our journey together the vastness and limitlessness of
spirituality and spiritual ascent.

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 Index

Prologue 7

Borning 8

Demission 12

Duty-bound 17

Faithist 27

Vindicator 34

Storyteller 42

Victorious 50

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 PROLOGUE
They all dwelled in the same house but built their
own castles of faith. They all ate the same food but
built their own buds of taste. They all slept on the
same bed but weaved their own dreams of dominance.
Choice was their father and forgiveness was their
mother.

And then their graduation was what gave the world

its respective forces of strengths. The strengths held
their forts but citizens were who, that mattered,
because they were the ones who resided in those forts.

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 CHAPTER 1
BORNING

“I just felt the warmth and something that made

me happy and it was always when she smiled”

As she would spend her moments of joy and

celebrations, I would feel the sheer size of that
because I was hers, completely. No barriers, no minds,
no emotions and no interference. She would share
every bit of her emotions with me and I would feel so
owned and so overwhelmed that I would simply roll in
ecstasy. Her touch was something that I would yearn
for, throughout my unmeasured time. My clock was
her breath and my calendar was her movement. Every
time I felt that breeze, she would go into ecstasy and
then I would become even more joyful. I always knew,
that our union, couldn’t be defined nor described. It

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was so personal that it was just a drop of the
beginning with no end.

I was amazing myself. I would feel something before

and then feel something else now and then I would
feel different later. My shapes would change and I
would have newer forms to express myself. I would
best like the rolling but it was funny how I always
managed to come back to where I was. I wondered
whether she would do it to me or was this world like
that. It would allow everything to change but it would
not change. Recently I was tasting some funny things,
that I hadn’t tasted before and they were new, along
with all the old ones. So much change and I wondered
I was handling every bit of it. I also wondered, why
was I learning about change. The world around me
wasn’t changing but it was me and in multiplying
dynamics. I was coming to understand that the rules
were about changes within and not outside because
the outside doesn’t change, it remains the same.

Now I had parts to throw around and often I would

feel her touch as soon as I would stretch myself. She
would always become ecstatic and I would hear that
familiar gurgle of joy. There was this control that I felt
and it was like a thread as if holding onto me just so
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that I don’t go out of control. I would often go in and
around it but I still didn’t know how I managed to
come back to where I always was. I would count her
breaths and I knew that I was entering into another
phase of time. I did notice something though. Every
time she would lay still for a long time, I would feel as
if I had grown. Sometimes she would lay still again
but this would not be as long as the other one. My best
time was when she would be somewhere where I
would also feel liberated. It was as if, in my small
limited world she had unleashed the limitless joy of
openness and where everything was free and in their
own respective worlds of ecstasy. I realised that she
was defining everything for me and I just had to
accept them and enjoy them. Everything she did was
only for my joy and I felt everything I did was only for
her joy. She made my own little world, heaven without
barriers, boundaries and filled with only joy.
One day I felt that she was different. It was as if this
world was about to break and I was going to start a
new journey. I heard more voices than usual and
suddenly I felt a pressure on myself. I was being forced
out of my little world. Suddenly I felt a light that I had
never felt before and I was being drawn towards that
light. I felt a different breeze on my head and a lot of
brightness as I gradually slipped out. My head was
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also being held by two things which I had never seen
before. They were a bigger size of what I used to
throw around and they gradually bought me into this
new world of strange lights, sounds and air.

After some time, I felt a familiar warmth and realised

that it was that same touch and that same warmth that
I used to feel. The difference was that this world was
full of light and sounds and a lot of air and she was
with me physically. I no longer had to feel her. I could
see her as well. The gurgles were clearer now and
there were too many gurgles around me. This world
was different, this world was bigger and there were
many more around me and I was not alone.

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 CHAPTER 2
DEMISSION

“I learned about the mind and it was a funny

part. It also knew how to play a lot of tricks. The
heart was sweet. It always stayed with me”

The families had all arrived and it was nearing the

hour of cremation. The atmosphere seemed to be
dressed in an artificial gait of sorrow as the
decorations and the decorated, all presented
themselves with guiltless perfection.

As I lay in the wooden casket, I was glad that my body

would no longer display my emotions of humour that I
was experiencing now. The priest was not volunteering
to make me laugh but the basic fact that there was a
man who was responsible to facilitate my journey into
the other world stood there himself confused about

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life and living. He was like a man on a mission. This
ceremony now, and then another one a couple of
hours later. He seemed to be questioning himself
about his mistaken journey where his connection with
God was being facilitated more when he was dealing
with a dead. After all, he was the only one sought after
for all cremations.

And then there was the neighbour who had lived all
his life trying to figure me and my life out. For one
moment I was wondering, when he looked deeply at
my corpse, whether he was actually convinced I was
dead or not. I wouldn't lie if I say that it wouldn't have
surprised me if he had pinched my dead body to be
absolutely sure.

My staff, all in their disciplined uniformity, trying to

understand, what would tomorrow hold for them,
when my children would take all the decisions of my
business. Some of them wishing I was alive till they
retired and some wishing I had lived till their
appraisal.

My children were nice kids. They were truly

heartbroken. They were yet to figure out the reason
why the system of remuneration for my business was
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being handled by another company where they had no
control or stakes. They got what they deserved and
they were happy. Their mother had chosen God's Lap
long back and they knew that their father had done a
decent job to get them to where they are now. A
decent business to fall back on, as long as they did
what had to do and enough assets to see them
through.

My grandchildren were amazing. Every new gizmo in

the block would remind them of their grandfather and
how he needs to justify his role as a granddad. The
best part was that I was always a part of their social
media when it came to me eating pizza with them or
sharing a steak at the dining table. Yes, of course, I
had my days, when my granddaughter would make a
painful face and I had to endorse that with a rose in
my hand when she clicked our photograph. That was
Valentine's Day. I had once read that Valentine’s Day
was supposed to be related to some sad event and I
thought probably the painful postures of my grand
daughter’s face while she took something called
“selfies” was reminiscent of that event

My friends were all sitting with a gloomy look on their

faces. Each wondering, who's next. My absence was
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not disturbing them as much as the possibility of
joining me was. But then that is what old age is all
about.

Suddenly I realised that there was a freshness in the

room and the air completely changed. As I saw the
face nearing my coffin and looking at me with deep
eyes, I realised the fact that God was kind enough to
give an enormous blessing at the grey years of my life.
It was this man in his 50s and he was neither sad nor
happy but he seemed to completely understand that I
was on a journey that I myself chose through the
choices I made in life and the desires and actions that I
had manifested. He was Subhopati. It was one of these
business conferences where I had chanced to meet him
and he shared with me the biggest treasure that life
could give me. It was since that day and the moment I
took my last breath, I owed him the fact that he made
me understand the truth of the Spirit, the love of God
for mankind and the ever-loving labour of The
Primordial Mother to bring us only one thing - peace
and joy. It was because of this gift, I was so painless,
so detached, so joyous and so spontaneous about my
new journey.

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I was being taken into the new command of another
army of The Primordial Power of this entire creation. I
was waiting to be assigned my new role. This Power
was the most compassionate Power in the entire
creation because I was allowed this opportunity just by
virtue of the last five years of my surrender and
realisation of God.

My demission was my new birth.

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 CHAPTER 3
DUTY BOUND

“The truth was not only with me but also with

the demons. The difference was that their truth
belonged to their ego”

It was not always the case when life gave in its

fullness, what the mind and the heart yearned for. It
was since my early years in school when I would
fantasise about fighting for my motherland and
bringing Her glory. My toys would be guns with which
I fought the imaginary enemies of my country and my
cap would be that imaginary honour that I would wear
with resolve and humility. As I spent my years
maturing into the later teen years, I naturally found
myself drawn towards my dream when I approached

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the NDA exams. With my fitness in place and my grit
aiding my resolve, I cleared with flying colours. The
interview with the Service Selection Board was my
first tryst with the reality of my dream and I did
everything to hold on to it and not let it go. I lived the
summary of my dream life in those 5 days and the
days of my medical examination.

The merit list graced my life with the moment that I

probably lived for since the time I knew what life was
all about.

Khadakwasla was calling. Three rigorous years and

Dehradun for another year and I was finally given my
first commissioned posting. I was an Indian Army
Officer and not a Gentleman Cadet anymore.

The posting near the border happened just after the

elections had completed and the new government
came to power. We felt a change, a definite change.
Not really in our regular work and mess lives but
something was different. The air was not the same.
There was the smell of freedom, the smell of purpose
and the smell of resolve. While the new prime minister
was gradually garnering international consensus on
many things, our jobs were to hold the fort. My
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encounter with devils happened here and I wondered
about the incorrigible consistency in which they would
try to infest and infect our beautiful country. Now and
then we would be sending them off and of course,
make some perish too, but in all these, it always felt
that there was way much more than what was
happening.

In the last six years, I had roamed the northern,

eastern and western borders and found myself back to
the paradise on earth. This time the atmosphere was
different from usual. With the new articles and
mandates in place, the valley was looking much
greener and much fuller. The people saw more
purpose and dignity and it would show on their faces.
The valley was again becoming the hustle and bustle
of joy and tranquility.

It was around three in the morning, we received this

high alert and we had to get ready for movement. One
of the battalions had just returned and many were
dead and injured.

I went to meet one of the injured who happened to be

my batch mate in IMA and I was shocked to see his
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plight. He looked at me with a smile as I walked
towards him. He exclaimed that this time it was no
less than war and it was not an infiltration. He
remarked that these terrorists were trying to smuggle
in some people who seemed to look like priests
considering their dresses. As I spoke to him he
narrated his experience while I saw him pondering
deeply as he spoke. It was as if he was sensing
something more than that meets the eye and he told
me that he always sat and wondered, who is the real
terrorist? The one who pulled the trigger or the one
who created the scene, allowed them to pull the
trigger, offered sympathies, created a support agenda
and tried to become a hero. In all this, the biggest lie
was yet to be uncovered. The shattered bodies of his
colleagues and his own body drenched in blood
shuddered to think, how worse the uncover would be
than this. While my mind was trying to get into his, he
just uttered these words to me - “it’s still a decoy, this
is not all.“

As per orders we were into deep territories now and

we were monitoring everything. Our systems were
highly advanced so our remote sensing was as good as
ground reality. The Signals Team had updated that
they had tracked a boogie joint. In our terms a boogie
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joint was where terrorists would hide together or it
would be a possible safe house. They had picked up a
conversation.

There were fresh instructions that the strength of the

defence and offence cover will be increased but that
would be a decoy while a separate team will cover
another entry point down south. The first batch was
deployed and ready and the second batch down south
expressed their Ready to Go. The second batch was
nearly an undercover movement which was nearly
invisible to intelligence radars and human eyes. This
batch was extremely well prepared for any situation. A
very strong artillery and weaponed movement started
around the first batch. It seemed like a suicidal
mission of the terrorists but it was so voluminous that
it required every inch of engagement.

The second batch reported a huge traffic of human

infiltration which was being routed through the
natural border routes. This was quite funny. Normal
border entries would involve regular documentation
and entry formalities and strict screening. These
people were reported to be attending some religious
conglomeration supposed to be happening a month
later. Interestingly it was obvious from their getup that
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4 people in that group were suffering from some
common cold and had their faces covered to avoid the
biting cold. After more than due diligent screening,
they were allowed entry.

The first batch was still engaging and suddenly they

encountered scores of bottled water being thrown at
them. The first instinct being that they were acid, the
team immediately made sure that these bottles landed
farthest away from any of the team members. After
this the engagements suddenly quietened down and
there was gradually no sign of any armed infiltrators.

I very carefully arranged for one of the bottles to be

carried across to the defence lab for testing. I gave
clear instructions that no one should be touching it.

We left as soon as the second battalion arrived and

when we reached base, we heard that China was hit
by some virus pandemic and one of its cities called
Wuhan was initiating a lockdown.

The reports were devastating because, the bottled

water contained some sort of a mutated and altered
virus which can cause devastating results. We had
come to terms for the first time, that we were now
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open to bio warfare threats as well. Immediately a
team was sent with proper arrangements to recover
the rest of the bottles and bring them back to be
confined.

I sat and wondered whether it was just a coincidence

that we encountered this when at the same China was
hit by a virus attack. I was in office and just leafing
through the signals report when I noticed that they
had recorded something whose transcript looked like -
“Now the breathe of Allah will emit fire and the kafirs
will die the dog’s death” Initially it looked like a coded
conversation or some imbecilic narration but then
suddenly it struck me that what was thrown at us was
a deadly mutated virus. Was this that breath of fire?

I called on my CO and shared my apprehensions to

which he smiled and replied - “all the sons of a Divine
Motherland will speak the same language”. I exactly
knew what it was.

The news shared information about how over tens of

thousands of people were affected by the deadly virus
and members of a religious outfit were responsible for
this exaggerated figure which otherwise would have
been controllable.
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I suddenly remembered that night’s incident reported
by the second batch of some priests crossing over for
some religious conglomeration. The puzzle seemed to
be falling into place. While I was pondering about this,
I suddenly received a call from an old friend. I smiled
with ecstasy when I heard his voice. We decided to
meet the next day.

Ravi decided to join the intelligence following his

father’s footsteps. He was one of the best officers of
our intelligence and our friendship dated back to days
when I was in France for a training and Ravi was there
on an assignment. Our meeting was a government
arrangement but our chords had struck in harmony
since then. It was a serious situation of lockdown and
Ravi had to undergo all the screenings and sanitisation
before he could meet me at my office. We discussed
about our respective findings and I was quite taken
aback when he told me that his main purpose of
meeting me was to involve me in this mission. This
was not going to be exactly a civil action but would be
total plan including the defence forces, the police and
the intelligence.

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The stage was set and there was an announcement
from the government that all members of a particular
outfit will be booked under section 307 of the Indian
Penal Code. The announcement came in the wake of
the increasing numbers of the pandemic. The
government also declared that whoever wished to take
asylum in their respective country can do so provided
they leave India in the next 72 hours.

Mr. Nagraj, Ravi’s father had already created a

network who were talking with the mosques all over
India asking them to ensure that whoever wanted to
leave can leave and the government will promise safe
exit. Within two days , five designated airports in
Mumbai, Delhi, Chennai, Kolkata and Guwahati had a
queue of thousands of people wanting to leave the
country.

Adopting absolute care, the people were escorted into

the respective flights. They were informed that they
will be taken to Mumbai from where they can leave
for their respective countries. The Mumbai population
was told that they will be escorted to a quarantine
centre inside the airport where they can wait till their
flights arrived. Mumbai saw the arrival of all the other
4 flights and everyone was escorted to the quarantine
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centre. Many flights were due to arrive the same day
and the following considering the number of people
wanting to leave.

The news at 8’o clock declared that over 3000

members of an outfit have been captured and now in
quarantine under strict security involving the army
and police force.

The rest of the country was being combed for

whatever was left of the miscreants.

It was the warm summer of 2022 in the lazy plains. As

I left to go home from office, I saw some people still
wearing masks on the streets. I realised at that
moment, protection of human life justifies all actions
because perhaps that is the true dharma. Protection of
“HUMAN” lives.

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 CHAPTER 4
FAITHIST

“My honour Lied in not what I believed but what

I was made to believe. Man had twisted the
image of my God whom I later found in the lap
of my Mother”

I was one of the twenty-three children belonging to

the fifth wife of my father. By the time I knew what
the world was, I was driven into the routine of prayers
and schooling. When I was 4 years old, I started
listening to stories of how my brothers had laid their
lives in their duty towards the Almighty and I was told
that this was the legacy of our family. We were the
chosen ones of The Almighty.

Time had come to celebrate my being born as a male

and on that day I was told to understand that pain was

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a gift of God. All my relatives, cousins and many
others had joined us on that day and I was to do the
first slaughter of my life on that day. The high priest
was present to bless the occasion. My elder brother
Firoz came forward and affectionately taught me the
prayers and the methods of the slaughter. As I
completed my task, there was a huge roar of
celebration and I was a certified male.

I remember my days in the Madrasa as long hours of

learning the Holy Book. The respected teacher would
patiently explain every aspect of The Holy Book and
make us understand what The Almighty expects from
us. A lot of attention was given to understand how to
recognise the non-believers and then understand, they
can be taken to task. To act against an entity that is
against The One and Only One is nothing but Holy
War.

I had once asked our teacher a question - “If He is so

powerful, he can take care of the kafirs. Shouldn’t we
just live life by protecting the believers?” I remember
the ten rigorous days that I was put under
punishment. My father’s leather whip bore witness to
every single scar that was left on my tender skin. My
mother’s dutiful existence was of no consequence as I
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received no help or pity from her. Once the nightmare
was over, I was told that The Almighty was angry and
it was His Sermon that was executed to teach me a
lesson and bring me on the path of righteousness.

Then came the videos and never-ending sessions of

lectures. I was being trained in guns and bombs. I
completely surrendered myself to one thing and that
was my mission. It was to see the end of myself by
ending as many kafirs as I could. The more the
numbers, the more joy I would bring to my God. One
final day, I was chosen for the work that I was living
and breathing for.

We were fifteen in number and we were asked to cross

the border and enter our promised land which the
kafirs had taken over. It was the land promised to us
by The God Himself. A part of the land was with us
but since it was promised, the whole land belonged to
us. We would die a million deaths if needed to get the
promised land back.

After successfully getting inside the land of the kafirs,

we set out to do our jobs. We were lucky because
many would help us on the other side. We were given

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the best of food to eat and the best places to stay and
get ready for the mission.

The bus journey was the longest in my life. There were

these group of people who were among the passengers
who were travelling to attend some seminar. They
were talking about meditation and many other things
which were alien to my ears. Just behind my seat,
there were two gentlemen seated who were part of
that group. One of them asked about The Quran. His
friend seated beside him started to explain using terms
like Qiyamah and Jihad. I knew these words because
they were part of my mission. But I intently
eavesdropped on their conversation. The man went on
to say that, the true essence of Qiyamah can be
realised when we feel the Blessing of The Almighty on
our hands as it was described in the Quran. He asked
his friend to ask any question the answer of which he
knew was true and he would feel the cool breeze on
his hands. He explained that when one feels the cool
breeze, one gets the power to destroy all the evil
inside and become the true child of The Almighty and
that is Jihad.

I knew that I was the chosen one of The Almighty and

so I asked a question whose true answer I knew, but I
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didn’t feel anything. I was angry. I immediately
thought that these are kafirs who are maligning the
word of The Holy Book. I felt like strangling both of
them to death and surrender my first good deed to
The Almighty. But something inside me asked me to be
patient because we were taught that the devil’s ways
are of a hurry. So I casually turned around and asked
the man who was speaking and asked him, how did he
know that what he was saying was true. I told them
that I had overheard their conversation and I asked a
question but didn’t feel anything. To this, the
gentleman smiled and very kindly told me - “dearest
brother, you need to ask Him to Bless you with His
power first and then you can ask the questions of
truth”. He went further and asked me to spread my
hands and close my eyes and forget everything about
my life before this moment and just ask with all
humility from The Almighty - please Bless me with
your power of love. I don’t know if it was seconds or
minutes or hours but I faintly heard a voice asking me
if I felt something. I nodded in agreement. Suddenly I
felt a different silence in my heart and my heart was
filled with a feeling of peace which I never felt before.
My hands were feeling cool. It wasn’t the cool
mountain breeze outside but it was coming from

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inside and going out. It was an amazing experience.
He asked me to open my eyes.

As I looked at him, he smiled and told me that now I

can ask any question I want, the answer to which I
knew was true. So I asked if my mother’s name was
Tehseeb and my hands felt cool again. I was
awestruck. I was feeling confused because the biggest
of the priests preached the Holy Book to us but never
spoke about these breezes. The man explained to me
that this was the Ruh. Suddenly a feeling of guilt
started to engulf me when I realised where I was
heading to. I was feeling very confused. Suddenly the
man behind tapped my shoulder and I looked back.
The words he said took me completely by surprise. He
said all I had to do was to forgive myself for whatever
I have done in my life from this moment backwards.
There is no sin that The Almighty will not forgive me
for if I ask forgiveness with a pure heart.

As I stepped out of the hospital and was getting ready

to go towards my car to drive back home, I suddenly
felt a tug on my coat. I turned around to see little
Henry. He was holding a card in his hand and he held
it out towards me. The card read - Thank you,
Superman, for saving my Mom. I picked Henry up in
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my arms as his father stood there with moist eyes. I
told Henry that he was the bravest boy and he should
be proud of it.

As I walked towards my car, my life flashed in front of

my eyes. My surrender to the authorities and then I
was put under the protection program and then I
studied and became a doctor and now I was settled in
Canada working in one of the reputed hospitals, living
with a beautiful wife and three beautiful daughters.
Truly The Mother in the Divine Form of The Ruh had
changed everything in my life.

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 CHAPTER 5
VINDICATOR

“I thought I was invincible but I lost my battle to

hatred”

Decades after decades, the human species had

relentlessly destroyed habitats and even guiltlessly
contributed to the extinction of species around the
globe. I heard in my family the bitterness and the
constant talk of vengeance and wondered, what kind
of a species were humans? They were the only species
who knew how to burn their houses to create light.

I heard that my birth was also the fallout of vengeance

as a particular specie went out of circulation. I was
different though. I was fierier and I was unbeatable.
As my family and schools prepared me, I was told that
my journey would re-write history. Although we

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belonged to the tribe of the hated and denounced, I
was told the I was not only the symbol of vengeance of
an extinct specie but also the anger of Nature. As I set
out on my journey of life, I saw myself creating history
at every step.

It was a sophisticated room where people in protective

dresses where extremely intrigued about my existence.
They seemed not scared of my existence but were
more in the mood of celebration that I existed. They
were thinking about ways and means of how to make
me stronger and then one day, everyone exclaimed in
unison, that I was their dream - a dream that will
change the history of this earth. I was going to be put
inside a human body and that body was also infused
with other members of my family so that I could
survive and not destroy my home. My family members
would control my anger and keep me calm. My
journey from a glass container to a human body was
complete.

In my new home, I saw a lot of restlessness initially

but as time went by everything seemed to calm down.
Then I set out on my second journey which was the
start of my history that would mark the third world
history. The human had arrived in a sprawling city
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which was filled with beauty. It was divided by the
Yangtze and Han rivers and was the wonderful capital
of the Hubei province. He was well received and once
again I entered the familiar sophisticated room full of
instruments and people in protective gear. I heard that
I was going to be replicated into other bodies as well. I
seemed I was like a celebrity who everyone wanted to
adopt. My multiple transitions were successful and
soon I was on my final mission. I smelt the free air in
busy places, malls, parks and markets. Soon I was
becoming a part of thousands of lives. I just felt a
marked difference here. These new bodies weren’t
being able to handle me and soon started collapsing.
Suddenly one day I saw everything silent around me
and I heard that everything was made to come to a
standstill to stop my movement. But I was unstoppable
and invincible. I was already on my way to all parts of
the globe including where I was born. Wherever I
went I encountered arrogant human beings who never
took me seriously. They were so intoxicated in their
world of accomplishments and security that my danger
dawned on them much later. I was already marking
the dead and leaving my scars and then everyone
realised my true nature - how terrifying I was.
Suddenly the whole world was vulnerable in front of
me.
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In my sweet journey of destruction and mayhem, I
must admit I saw the most valiant of soldiers who
stood up against me as if I was a mere nothing. I heard
people called them as doctors, nurses, health workers,
cleaners, police, army, armed forces, volunteers and
social workers. There were other soldiers as well who
would reach food and medicines to all the houses and
those who would be the cleaners. At moments, I
thought, I would have to run away but then my
powers were immense. I was more powerful than what
I was supposed to be. I was the new weapon of
destruction.

When on one side, I saw warriors, on the other side I

saw people who were on my mission. People who were
doing everything to see me through. These were
people who helped me beat the strong army of these
doctors and nurses and workers. I saw the creepers
fight their way up the tallest trees to see the rays of
sunlight. I also saw humans struggle and battle their
ways towards the rays of hope. I saw animals search
their way through obstacles to reach the place that
emitted the rays of their survival. What I didn’t see
was remorse and repentance in the eyes of the wilful
sinners who didn’t have any purpose when they
37
destroyed the lives of their brothers and sisters. I was
the destroyer here and I was put to shame by them. I
should have been happy because they were my tribe
but I wasn’t. Destruction was my nature but it was
their choice. A choice they took without batting an
eyelid. I saw this same guiltless smile of
accomplishment in the room where I was first
experimented on and modified. I started to wonder,
were these the people against whom my birth had
happened?

Our whole world looked at these humans in awe. We

thought we were the symbol of destruction and we
knew all the ways and means to do that. But these
people! They were amazing. Starting from spitting to
contaminating fruits, vegetables, currency notes,
purposeful spreading and even creating false
situations to accumulate thousands of people so that I
could do my work easily. For the first time, I felt
scared. My vengeance was for rectification. My advent
has made the world go into their own homes while the
birds, the bees, the animals, the fishes, the reptiles, the
rivers, the lakes and the seas healed themselves and
rejuvenated themselves into their renewed lives. My
advent was not for this. My advent was not for these
people to exist and cause the annihilation of a whole
38
human race but to stop humans from causing
extinction. I realised that my birth and advent had
exposed a larger danger - a danger that even my world
was not aware of. A danger that had a time bomb
fitted with it and as time passed, the whole of creation
was going towards destruction. These people had no
specific colour, creed, occupation or face. They were
unidentifiable. They were politicians, industrialists,
lobbyists, priests, vendors, workers, celebrities and
common people. They were everywhere and so much
so that they even hid within the innocent masses and
no could see them.

I had destroyed a quarter of the world’s population but

now I will stand firm and say this. I am innocent, I
didn’t do anything. I was just a fragment of decayed
thinking that decided to become the most powerful,
the most dominant and the one and only one in this
world. A mind with the devil itself sitting on its throne
there, challenging every sanity, every humanity and
every quality that bore the hint of Divinity.

Since my childhood, I heard stories of how The Divine

would use many ways and means to restore balance
and normalcy. Our tribes were also one of the weapons
who would primarily attack the collective desire side
39
of humanity. Humanity had to fight that in the process
would win over its demons. This time I was
wondering, what would happen. This was a time like
no other time and this was a devil in perhaps its
newest form. The time smiled and gave the assurance
that balance was imperative and good was
omnipresent. The world formed a group of people who
were no longer divided by boundaries, nationalities,
colours, opinions, ideologies and beliefs. This group
worked together day and night. I was taken out of
human bodies and was twisted and turned as if to tear
me apart and understand each and every fragment of
my existence.

Suddenly I felt a very strong pain and found myself

losing myself. In days I lost my life. The group held
hands and rejoiced. The world got back to its feet but
now every one was talking about rectifying
themselves, about not doing the mistakes they had
done. The sun was brighter and the moon was bigger,
the lakes, rivers and oceans were breathing new life,
the whole animal kingdom was rejoicing with new
births and new air to breathe and the humans realised
that they were only a small part of this huge creation
and not the masters.

40
The room was dark but with enough light that saw
faces cringed in hatred and ambition. There were men
and women around a huge table looking at each other
with a purpose. They discussed that a virus is just not
enough. The deadliest was also beaten. This time it
has to be something more subtle. Like drinking water
or breathable air or maybe infant food or milk or
medicines or something that cannot be easily
identified.

While my family was mourning my death, the Voice

was heard - “These humans are incorrigible. Now they
need to go extinct. I’ll create something else”.

41
 CHAPTER 6
STORYTELLER

“I wanted to be heard. It didn’t matter if I told

the truth or not. My audience used the brain I
created for them”

I was feeling thrilled as I walked up to the stage to

receive my award. I deserved it - every bit of it. From
the days of being a freelance online journalist to this
day when I am the face of one of the most prominent
channels of international media, it was along journey.
Accolades don’t come cheap and nor do the efforts.

I still remember my first article. I penned it on child

trafficking. I was young and my blood boiled at the
thought of this heinous crime. It still does and I don’t
mince my words about it even now. My graduation in
journalism was my first paid assignment which

42
changed my world. I was supposed to write a short
account on a particular event and I was told what the
account should portray. I refused to do it because I
didn’t believe in it. The portrayal was biased and I was
not going to do it. My friend who incidentally gave me
the lead to this, happily did it and filled his pocket.
This went on for quite some time. I realised that my
beliefs and my ideology didn’t mean anything because
people wanted to believe what they chose to believe.

So here I was, becoming poor, at the expense of my

ideology and beliefs. I met a senior person in our field
and I got a great explanation. I was told that when I
had to write an essay in school on a topic which I
didn’t like, I had to do it to clear my exams. So there
are a lot of things that I may not necessarily like but at
the end of the day, I have to pay my bills. So I started
to stick to the syllabus and I must say I did pretty well
in all the exams. So much that I was on this stage
today.

My journey is not as simple as it sounds because the

roads this journey took me through, made me realise
that none of us is even remotely significant in the
whole matrix of this web of politics and business. It is
the key players who are significant. Either we are part
43
of this or we are not. We can’t be against it. Being
against it holds no meaning because it doesn’t make a
difference to that web. Yes, another side which sees a
separate set of key players who play against the other
team hold significance and being a part of that team
will make sense. But it is all about the key players.

I made choices long back and I even changed them.

Different events, incidents and the thinking of the
common people attributed to my changes of choices.
When too many events grace the silence it may be the
alert for the storm or perhaps the storm has decided to
drizzle in fragments. I had learned that over the years
but what I also learned is how I can create another
storm to hide that storm. I am not complaining
because my coffers aren’t allowing me to do so. Some
people talk about conscience. For me, my conscience
reminds me of my power to bargain. It doesn’t stop me
because I have taught it to enjoy the breeze of comfort
along with me. Oh no, not at all! I am not the bad guy
here. I am just frying my chicken in oil that has a
never-ending flow. The bad guy is the one making it
available. But I guess, not that bad either. Who is
stopping the good guys from holding his hand? But
who are the good guys? If there are five giants at play,
then each of these giants has their never-ending flow
44
of the oil in which someone or the other is frying their
chicken.

Businesses all over the world had evolved and

technology was one of the strongest attributes for
success and lead. Same was with media. Satellites
took over printing presses and laptops took over pen
and paper. Expenses were high and so was the score of
market capitalisation. This was big money - both in
and out. Better market capitalisation, better
advertisements and better prices. But the business was
politics. This was even bigger money. Like all other
businesses, this business also had evolved. This was
the age of social media. The politicians were
everywhere in the voters’ lives, banging them with
news, views and beliefs. We were the assets. We
decided what would make the viewer see what we
wanted them to see. This was just not manipulation.
This was art and science together. First, we would
create a backdrop that would lead people towards a
thought process and then we would create an image of
an event that had occurred in a manner that would
compliment that backdrop. We would work endless
hours on these things. It could be a political party or a
political lobby or a business lobby. The aim was not
important to me. What the consequences were, was
45
not important for me. I was not supposed to be
worrying about that. What I was supposed to worry
about was the situation that was to be created. I
would be pampered like a king or a queen to do that
and why not. It was my brilliance that would show
results.

If I had to show a terrorist as a martyr, I would

because my client needs that to be done. Advocates
fight on behalf of criminals and even win cases. It was
of no consequence to me what that terrorist did to my
country or innocent people. The appropriate
authorities are taking care of that and I am not
meddling in that. Yes, I may raise a question on
human rights and of course I will. Everyone has the
right to a say. The so-called nationalistic media were
crying foul over the dead bodies, so that part was
already being taken care of. I never said terrorism was
right - no I did not, not at all. All I said was, we need
to understand why he became a terrorist. Isn’t that
fair? I guess noble too. If not why would a lobby agree
to pay me such a hefty sum for creating that thought?
I was not promoting terrorism, I was showing ways to
stop it. I would condole over the dead but I also tried
to find out what made him kill.

46
The fact that a terrorist is a human bomb who is
devoid of any sense of religion or capacity of any
human judgement is not the point here. Even if it is, I
would ignore it, because today if my heart starts to see
the evil in that man who has slaughtered hundreds of
soldiers and innocent lives, I would be walking
towards a quiet end of my remaining life with limited
means and limited ends. I cannot allow myself to see
the heinous intentions of the organisation that this
man belonged to or the country who is promoting this
organisation or the traitors who are working for hand
in gloves with this organisation. Some authorities will
look into these matters. My job is to create a different
side of the event, a side that my masters want the
world to see. I am just an insignificant cogwheel in
this entire system.

I am harmless because I just create a thought process.

If anyone is answerable, that is the hands that hold the
strings to this puppet show. People are adult enough to
differentiate the good from the bad. So what if my
tweets catch fire in social media, there is not a place
where I have requested or forced people to like my
tweets. My reports are hailed by millions who believe
in the ideology that I propagate. Perhaps I am bringing
many more into believing in that ideology. That is why
47
I am the best - an award winner. It is not my problem
to sit and ponder whether the ideology is
complementary to the building of nation or national
unity. The great parliamentarians can do that job.
After all, that is where all the strings lead to.

If my conscience leads me to think otherwise, what

difference am I making? People in this country are
already divided into different beliefs and ideologies.
An important political party may be the biggest
brokers of some foreign enemy power or another one
may be the powerhouse of ethics and commitment to
nation-building, nothing changes the character of the
common man. Even if it does, all I need to do is create
a story from an event and change the course of
thinking. After all, this is the free press, freedom of
expression. And if freedom comes in exchange for big
luxury, then why not.

Many a time, we friends catch up. Incidentally, we all

belong to different corners of the ring but we have a
lot of fun when we discuss our merits. The biggest
laughs are when we discuss communal stories that we
create to stereotype a particular thought process. We
laugh and laugh when we discuss how people get
swayed by what we show them. As each one of us
48
finishes our respective drinks, our last drinks are
always to the great people of this country who are
making us rich.

I must say that today the world and its people have
made me invincible. I am so strong that I can give
infinite power to the fingers of a common human so
that he or she can strongly share views and beliefs on
social media. Can break all the boundaries of sanity,
sense, harmony and humanity when criticising an
opposite ideology. I have the power to make people
cry for a terrorist and throw stones at a hero who is
fighting with his life at the borders of my country. I am
so powerful that I can tear the National Flag that
covers the coffin of the martyr into shreds and malign
that soldier's deeds into an act of inhuman slaughter
and show that his death was the result of self-defence.

My powers sometimes make me feel, are we evolving

as humans? If we are, then why am I still being able to
feed to the world what I wish to? Why are those hands
going stronger by the day as they pull every string to
destroy this beautiful world? Why are people oblivious
of what is right and what is wrong?

49
 CHAPTER 7
VICTORIOUS

“Every effort was made to destroy me but I knew

if my spirit was alive, I will be victorious”

I was born as a normal girl in a normal family. My

parents brought me up with their simple middle-class
values. We were a small and simple family of four
along with my elder brother. Needless to say, I was
relatively pampered being the youngest.

My parents had bought me up in a manner where

nothing was different between me and my brother. I
shared the same platform of liberty and discipline that
he was subject to. I was always taught to see life as a
glorious opportunity where lied the innumerable

50
treasures, waiting for me to walk up to them and pick
them up. Needless to say that my life was on its
journey with all joys, trials and tribulations that the
journey of any normal human being would.

As I moved into my prime years of education, I

remained well above the average in my performance.
My passion to be vocal about what I believed in made
me the main face of many debates and discussions
across various platforms. I was aware that I was
buying my share of envy and disapproval but I was
taught to accept criticism and dissent with dignity and
so I did. Not reacting negatively to my disapprovers
probably made me superior to them, but my priorities
were different and so were my goals.

It was a day of usual routine and events, as I was

coming back from my classes. I was preparing for the
civil services and I was extremely serious about it. I
was aware that I had a mountainous task ahead of me
and I couldn’t leave any stone unturned if I were to go
ahead in my journey successfully. I felt something hit
me on my head as I fell on the road. For a fraction of
seconds, I was completely dazed and unable to
comprehend what was happening. Next, I felt many
hands picking up and putting me inside a car. It all
51
happened so fast that before I realised what was
happening, I was already on the way to some
unknown destination. As I regained my sense of
understanding I was becoming aware that there were
four people and three of them were pinning me down
to the seat of the car. I struggled with all my might
and managed to hit one of them in the eye and bite
another’s hand. As I kicked and struggled, the car
came to a halt. I was hit hard and then carried into a
house by the people.

It was a dimly lit room with an unbearable stench of

urine and alcohol. For the first time, I could see the
faces of the four perpetrators. As I was pinned to the
ground and my identity, my dignity, my existence and
my body was violently destroyed, I was living a
nightmare. I wished that I was dead and beyond the
realm of this moment. The next thing I remembered
was the face of the concerned doctor and the nurses as
I regained my consciousness. I felt excruciating pain in
every inch of the body as I lay there fighting for
whatever life in me was left. The pain was unbearable,
so much that every part of my memory seemed to be
getting erased. I don’t remember anything else until I
saw my mom, dad and my brother looking at me. They
looked at me as if I was a soldier who had come back
52
from the battlefield fighting terrorists. My dad held my
hand and said these words, ”you will not give up.
Victory is just waiting ahead of you. Nothing can pull
you down."

The police came and did the necessary formalities. I

was asked to outline the faces as much as I could to a
sketch artist who tried his best to chart out the
fragments of my memory on the sheets of papers he
held in his hand. I learnt that all of them were
captured and sent to court for trial. This chapter
ended with the criminals being shot to death when
they were trying to escape.

I walked into the auditorium filled with students as I

took the dais. I looked at them and I slowly started to
speak.

“What had happened to me is not unknown to any of

you. I am not here to relate my experience and how I
came out and stood strong. I won’t do that because
strength is something that I don’t need to teach you or
talk to you about. All of you have that and you have
that in abundance. What I will speak about today is
the root cause of this menace and this crime. My soul
and my body have endured irreparable damage but I
53
realised, whenever I remember the incident, I
remember the look in the eyes of my perpetrators.
They were not of lust but of hatred. They were trying
to pull down something that was reminding them of
their inferiority. They behaved as if they were
destroying something that was threatening their ego,
their very existence, their failure. We need to
understand that strength of truth and purpose is not a
threat but something that needs to be joined hands
with. It needs to be appreciated because in
appreciating that we will understand the beauty of it
and in turn try to imbibe the same within us.
Appreciating that strength is not a shame. It does not
put us down but takes us on a higher journey. Those
criminals were intimidated by that strength in me.
They tried to defy and finish that strength and in the
process were eliminated themselves. This society
needs to learn to respect that strength. I want to tell
all the boys in this room, that respecting that strength
will only give them more strength and make them
stronger and I want to tell all the girls in this room,
that being strong is not your fault but your true
nature. You don’t need to feel guilty about it or feel
apologetic about it. I want to tell all the fathers in this
room, that they should nurture that strength and not
feel ashamed about it and to all the mothers that this
54
strength is the true character of women and not
something they gain due to exposure and education.
When you gave birth to your children, this strength
saw you bearing all the pain and bringing them into
this beautiful world. How can you forget that
strength? How can you be apologetic about it? The
question here is not about equality but of realisation.
This whole fight of gender equality will only stand
strong the day men learn to accept, recognise and
worship that strength and women learn to respect,
nurture and justify that strength with actions of truth
and dignity. The perpetrators took their best shot at
my strength but I remembered my resolve and my
commitment to my strength. My father reminded me
that I cannot fall because I had that strength. My
mother looked me in the eye and said I had bigger
wars to win and I should not let anything come in my
way of victory. My brother looked unto me as his
inspiration because, in spite of being elder, he told me
that my strength was what he adopted to run his own
journey of victory. I feel like a soldier at whom a
terrorist shot and tried to kill but I have come back to
stand on my feet and complete my mission of
destroying them. I am no less. I feel like the crops who
dance with their heads held high after they survived
long dry seasons. I feel like the flag of my country that
55
stands tall and flutters with pride even after being
attacked and made to struggle for 1300 years.”

My children, grandchildren and great grandchildren

gathered around me as they celebrated my 90th
birthday. My greatest gift was the power and resolve I
saw in their eyes as they put their arms around me
and wished me.

56
 ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Born on 20th March, 1969,
Subhopati started writing at the
tender age of 6 years. His sole
inspiration at that time was his
mother Late Rekha Sanyal, who was
always overawed by her son's
creative skills. Following her death
on 14th October, 1984, Subhopati's life took many twists
and turns till 1996 when he received his Self Realisation
from Her Holiness Shri Mataji Nirmala Devi. His writings
reflect his journey of spiritual ascent, his seeking and the
immense Love and Blessings he receives from Shri Mataji.
In 2012, Subhopati got Debarati as his wife by Shri
Mataji’s Blessings who bought more innocence and
ascent in his life. Together they embarked on a journey of
seeking and spiritual ascent. Their sustenance is The
Nistula Group, their joint endeavour and they enjoy
spreading the joy in their social as well as professional life
as they bask in the Divine Blessing of Shri Mataji.

57
58