Writer’s Age Group: 10-18 years
“Do you guys ever get bored of this huge house? Like, it’s so depressing. 10 people in the house and about 35 rooms. And don’t get me started on the 90-something staircases.” Gaurav grumbled.
“Stop exaggerating, Gauru. We can have a lot of fun around this place. There is so much to explore in this house. Maybe there are secret passages!”, Romy, his elder brother said.
“Whatever, you guys stop bickering. I’m hungry,” their younger cousin Amira complained.
“When are you not?”Gauru muttered.
After Amira got a nice peanut butter and jelly sandwich to temporarily satisfy her insatiable hunger, the trio, bundled up in humongous jackets, mufflers and gloves that would make an eskimo feel warm if they were to put them on (our protagonists were feeling like they were an inch away from the Sun, but parents!), set out to “explore”, as Romy said.
Amira, Gaurav and Romy had come to their grandparent’s house along with their parents for their winter holidays. Since their manor was in Srinagar, it was something like zero degrees Celsius. But today, a Sunday, was relatively warm, about 10 degrees. But still, for mothers, it is always minus 20 degrees. The house was a slightly creepy, 18th century haveli. Granny had done her best to liven up the place a bit, but it still looked a wee bit like a horror movie set. There was no blood, of course.
Gaurav was the moodiest of them all, and the least excited about this trip. This was because his friends were going to Dubai, but his mother didn’t let him go.
“You meet your friends everyday! But you see your grandparents only once in every 2 years or something.” was his mother’s counter to his pleas.
Ah, the problems of a 12-year old adolescent boy.
Romy was much more mature. He kind of has to be because being senior to all kids in your family requires that. He’s 17, but well beyond his years.
Amira was 5, and very chubby. She ate more than all residents of Vatican City combined (estimated).
So, the trio kept roaming in the house. Gaurav was still pretty temperamental, and to calm him down, Romy had given him his iPod. Plugged into Maroon 5, Gauru was silent.
“Wait!” Romy exclaimed. “A door beneath the staircase!”
“Stop daydreaming, Romy. This is not Harry Potter.” Gaurav said.
“Shut up. Hey, Amira, you wanna go inside?”
“YEAH!!!!!!!!!” was Amira’s enthusiastic reply.
“And you, Gauru?”
“Yeah, whatever.”
But before they could open the door, the door opened from the inside. Granpa Ramesh emerged from inside.
“Hey kiddos! What are you doing down here?”Granpa asked as he hugged them.
“Nothing, just exploring this big house.” Romy answered.
“Granpa, what’s inside of that room?” Amira innocently asked.
“Before I tell you anything, you must cross your heart and hope to die that you won’t tell anyone else about this.”
“YES!!!!!!!!” Amira shouted. “I mean, I do.” ,she said sheepishly.
“Then come in.”
They entered. The room wasn’t very big.
“What’s this place, Grandpa?” asked Amira , the ever inquisitive one.
“This is an old bunker of RAW i.e. Research and Analysis Wing, the military intelligence department of India.” Grandpa said.
“Really!! What is it doing under the staircase in your house ?” Gauru challenged.
“Well I was the leader of the group that executed one of India’s most successful covert operations, Operation Eggnog.”
“What?” Romy said giggling.
“No, I am serious! Should I tell you about it ?”
“Well, a good story never hurts anyone, did it?” Amira said. “Let’s have it “
“Okay, “Grandpa began. “Here it is. 25th December 1965. 17:30 hrs. That’s 5:30 in evening for you guys. Me and my team of three other agents were on a helicopter, travelling to Islamabad, where ISI’s headquarter is. ISI is the Pakistani counter part of RAW. Our mission was to infiltrate the headquarters and get any secrets we can. We all had code names. I was Lion, and the other three were Fox, Cub and Snake. Our team was called Alpha Q. We had an air drop, meaning we jumped from the chopper, parachuted down and walked six miles so that our chopper could not be picked by the Pakistani radar. We reached the head quarter at about 7:45 pm. We all knew the plan. First, we take on the guards with tranquilizer darts that had been recently developed. Then we scale the building with grappling hooks. Then we enter through exhaust pipes up there. If we see any guards we have to take them down. Once we were near the safe we have to use C4 to blast the doors, get the files and finally get out of there. It all went according to the plan. We were in and out with no casualties, but the trouble started when we got to our chopper. ISI agents were running after us, firing wildly. They weren’t wearing boots. So they kept slipping on the snow. An agent’s bullet accidently hit Cub in the thigh. He screamed in pain as the bullet had chipped a bone. However, we all made it to the chopper and quickly flew back to India. We were welcomed as heroes. “
“But Granpa, how did this bunker end up in your house?” Gauru asked. He was interested now.
“After retirement each RAW agent is offered a choice. You can get lots of money, or you could have your house built on a secret bunker. I chose the latter as I still wanted to contribute to the security of my country in any possible way that I can even if it means sheltering an agent in distress in my home.”Granpa said proudly.
“Well, that was quiet a story, wasn’t in?” Romy asked his siblings jovially.
“It’s a true story!” Granpa said
“Come on, Granpa , it’s too good to be true.” Gauru said.
Distant shouts were coming from the hall way.
“Okay, your parents are calling. Go now. Oh! And see the cabinet at the end of the hall way.”Granpa said, pointing towards the same.
“Okay, bye Granpa!” the trio said.
“Guys, let’s check out that cabinet. “Romy suggested.
Gauru looked inside it. There was a medal. It said – ‘Awarded to Ramesh Chaturvedi for his role in Operation Eggnog’
Their mouths fell open.
*********
This story was shortlisted for the final round of #AWinterInStoryland Story Writing Contest. Read other shortlisted entries here.
Being a contest entry, this story has been posted without any edits.
