Chapter: 2 : Shadows Within Shadows
Over the next few weeks, Shabad couldn’t stop thinking about the diary. Late at night, he’d sit in his room, piecing together the fragments Amir had shared. The photograph, the cryptic notes, the unexplained nightmares—they painted a picture of a man he barely recognized.
Who was Amir before he became the man Shabad knew? And what would happen if those secrets finally came to light?
The answers lay in that diary—and Shabad knew he couldn’t rest until he uncovered the truth.
Shabad couldn’t shake the unease that settled over him after witnessing Amir’s secretive actions. The diary, the electric shock, and his father’s cryptic demeanor painted a picture that didn’t fit the man he thought he knew. Questions swirled in his mind, growing darker with each passing hour.
“Am I living with a terrorist?”
“Has he disguised himself to evade the authorities?”
“What if I’m unknowingly aiding someone involved in anti-national activities?”
Shabad’s heart raced as he grappled with his thoughts. On one hand, Amir was the man who taught him to ride a bike, who stayed up with him during school projects, who shared stories of his own rebellious youth. On the other hand, the diary—protected with near-military-grade security—suggested a man with dangerous secrets.
Could it all be a façade?
Late one night, as Shabad lay in his bed, he overheard his father’s muffled voice from the next room. Amir’s tone was calm but carried a weight of urgency that was impossible to ignore. The cryptic nature of his words sent a shiver down Shabad’s spine. He crept out of bed, pressing his ear against the study door to eavesdrop.
Amir (on the phone): “The moon has set, but the stars remain visible. Is the shadow moving?”
Unknown Caller: “The shadow is moving westward. The owl might leave its nest.”
Amir: “Westward? That’s not ideal. What’s the wind like?”
Unknown Caller: “Unpredictable. A storm may follow.”
Amir: “Ensure the lantern stays lit. No compromises.”
Unknown Caller: “Understood. The wolf will howl at midnight.”
Shabad’s mind raced as the call ended abruptly. The cryptic phrases clung to his thoughts, each one like a puzzle piece he couldn’t fit together. “Shadow? Lantern? Wolf?” he muttered under his breath.
The next morning, Shabad approached Amir in the kitchen. The air between them was tense. Shabad’s strategy was simple: earn his father’s trust by playing along.
Shabad: "Baba, can we talk for a while?"
Amir: (looking up from his notebook) "Of course. You still have more to say, it seems."
Shabad hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words. He wasn’t just talking to his father; he was stepping into dangerous waters.
Shabad: "That evening… it changed me. I haven’t been able to shake it off. I think I was wrong about you. There’s so much more to what you’re doing. I need to understand you, Baba."
Amir’s gaze softened, but only slightly. His hands rested on the table, calm and composed, yet ready to respond to any hidden challenge.
Amir: "Hmm. Go on."
Shabad: "Mom told me you’re a changed man now. But the truth is, I think I’ve never really understood you. And now, after everything… I want to join you."
Amir tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he studied Shabad. His expression was unreadable, a perfect mask of calm.
Amir: "Join me? And why would you want to do that?"
Shabad: (with conviction) "Because you’re always telling me to do more, to aim higher. You’ve always pushed me to see the bigger picture. If what you’re working on is so crucial, then maybe I can help."
Amir’s silence stretched, heavy and deliberate. Finally, he put down his cup of tea, his sharp gaze fixed on his son.
Amir: "Help? You don’t even know what you’re asking for."
Shabad: (meeting his father’s gaze without flinching) "Then tell me. You’re always saying how the world isn’t what it seems. If there’s something bigger going on, I want to be a part of it. I want to be on your side."
Amir leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as if weighing Shabad’s words carefully.
Amir: "You think responsibility is glamorous? It’s not. It’s a burden—a weight you carry alone. Once you step into this world, there’s no turning back. You will see things differently, and it will change you forever."
Shabad nodded, his voice steady, though his heart raced. Shabad: "I can handle it. Just give me a chance to prove myself."
Amir stared at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable.
Amir: "Fine. But proving yourself isn’t just about words. It’s about action. Are you ready for that?"
Shabad: (with a slight smile) "I wouldn’t have come to you if I wasn’t."
The following day, Amir handed Shabad a small, locked case.
Amir: "Take this to Room 312 in the east wing of the campus. The person waiting for you will give you a code word. Don’t speak unless spoken to, and don’t open the case."
Shabad: (nodding) "What’s in it?"
Amir: (sternly) "Your first lesson: never ask questions that you don’t need answers to. Trust is earned, not given."
Shabad took the case, his mind racing. As he walked through the campus, he couldn’t help but notice how normal everything seemed. Students laughed in the hallways, professors scolded late arrivals, and life moved on as if nothing dark could ever touch it.
When he reached Room 312, a man in a plain black jacket waited inside, his face partially hidden by a baseball cap.
Man: (without looking up) "The stars have aligned."
Shabad hesitated for a split second before replying. Shabad: "But the moon remains hidden."
The man nodded, gesturing for Shabad to leave the case on the table. As Shabad turned to leave, he couldn’t help but notice a faint, metallic smell in the air—like gunpowder.
That night, Shabad confronted Amir again.
Shabad: "I delivered the case. The man didn’t say much. But the room—it smelled strange, like… like something was off."
Amir raised an eyebrow, impressed by Shabad’s observation.
Amir: "Good. You noticed. That’s your second lesson: always pay attention to the details. They’ll keep you alive."
Shabad: (pressing on) "But what was in the case, Baba? I can’t keep doing this blindly. If you want me to prove myself, you have to trust me too."
Amir sighed, leaning forward with a rare moment of vulnerability.
Amir: "What’s in the case isn’t important. What matters is that it reached its destination. The less you know, the safer you are—for now."
Shabad: (frustrated but determined) "You keep saying that. But if I’m going to be part of this, I need to understand what we’re working toward."
Amir’s gaze darkened. Amir: "What we’re working toward, Shabad, is survival. The world isn’t kind to people like us—those who see beyond the lies. What we’re doing might seem dangerous, but it’s necessary. You’ll understand in time."
Shabad nodded, masking his internal conflict. He needed to earn Amir’s trust completely before he could uncover the full scope of his father.
It’s a crisp winter morning in Delhi. The city buzzes with its usual chaos—traffic snarls, street vendors calling out, and pedestrians weaving their way through the crowded streets. But beneath this facade of normalcy, a shadowy plan is in motion. Amir, sitting in a dimly lit room, reviews a blueprint spread across the table. The map of Connaught Place is marked with red circles—strategic locations where chaos can be unleashed. Shabad is by his side, now fully immersed in Amir’s operations.
Amir: "Timing is everything, Shabad. If even one move falters, the entire plan collapses."
Shabad: (nodding) "Understood. I’ll stick to my role."
Shabad hides his growing unease. Despite playing the loyal son, he knows that this is the moment he’s been waiting for—the chance to uncover the full extent of Amir’s plans and stop them.
Amir’s team converges on Connaught Place, one of Delhi’s most crowded and iconic areas. The plan involves planting explosive devices in three locations:
A busy coffee shop.
A public park where a political rally is taking place.
A cinema hall hosting a high-profile premiere.
Amir oversees the operation from a remote location, coordinating with his team through encrypted channels.
Shabad’s task is critical—he’s assigned to deliver a briefcase containing an explosive device to the coffee shop. As he walks toward the location, his mind races. He knows that if he delivers the case, innocent lives will be lost. But if he disobeys, his cover could be blown.
At the last moment, Shabad fakes a stumble, spilling the contents of the briefcase in front of a group of bystanders. Inside, instead of revealing explosives, he has replaced the device with harmless electronics.
A call comes through Amir’s secure line. Amir: "What happened, Shabad? Why isn’t the package in place?"
Shabad: (thinking quickly) "There was a problem. The shop’s security spotted me. I had to abort."
Amir’s silence is heavy. Amir: "Fine. Get to the next location. Don’t let this happen again."
Shabad agrees but takes the opportunity to tip off an undercover contact in the police force he’s secretly been working with.
Back at the safe house, Amir confronts Shabad.
The safe house is dimly lit, its silence punctuated by the faint hum of a ceiling fan. Amir sits at a wooden table, his fingers drumming against its surface, the only sound in the room. His sharp eyes are fixed on the doorway. Shabad steps in, his body tense, heart racing.
Amir gestures for him to sit. The air is thick with unspoken tension.
Amir: "Sit, Shabad. We need to talk."
(Shabad hesitates but complies. He lowers himself into the chair opposite Amir, trying to mask his apprehension.)
Amir: "I’ve been watching you closely these past few days. Something feels... off. Tell me, is there something you want to share?"
(Amir’s tone is calm, but his eyes burn with intensity.)
Shabad: (feigning calmness) "I don’t know what you mean, Baba. I’ve been doing everything you asked of me."
Amir: (leaning forward slightly) "That’s just it. You’ve been doing everything I’ve asked, but it feels... hollow. Like your heart isn’t in it. When you stumbled at the coffee shop, was that a mistake—or something else?"
Shabad: (forcing a small smile) "It was a mistake, Baba. I panicked. You always taught me to be cautious, and I was trying not to draw attention."
Amir: (studying him intently) "Caution is one thing. Hesitation is another. You’ve been hesitant, Shabad. That’s dangerous in our line of work."
Shabad: (lowering his gaze, choosing his words carefully) "I just need more time to adjust. This... responsibility—it’s heavier than I expected."
Amir: (his voice softens slightly, almost fatherly) "Responsibility is not a choice, Shabad. It’s a burden you accept or reject. And once accepted, there’s no room for doubt. The cost of failure is too high."
(Shabad meets his father’s gaze, feeling the weight of those words. His mind races—how much does Amir suspect? Can he maintain his cover?)
Amir: (leaning back, his tone shifting to something more contemplative) "Do you know why I chose this path, Shabad?"
Shabad: (carefully) "I assumed it was for a cause you believed in. Something bigger than yourself."
Amir: (nodding slowly) "True. But belief alone doesn’t sustain you. It’s the injustice, the lies, the rot in the system that fuels you. When you see people suffer under a system that’s rigged against them, how can you stand by and do nothing?"
Shabad: (feigning interest) "But what about the innocents, Baba? The ones caught in the crossfire? Doesn’t that weigh on you?"
Amir: (his voice hardens) "Innocence is a luxury in this world. Those who are truly innocent are already dead. The rest? They’re complicit in one way or another. To change the world, sacrifices must be made."
Shabad: (leaning forward slightly, testing the waters) "And you think this—what we’re doing—will truly change things?"
Amir: (a flicker of pride in his voice) "Not immediately. Change is slow, painful. But every act, every move we make, sends ripples through the system. Fear is a powerful motivator, Shabad. It forces people to confront truths they’d rather ignore."
Shabad: (nodding, masking his growing unease) "I see. Then teach me, Baba. Help me understand your vision better. I want to contribute more."
(Amir studies him again, his expression unreadable. The silence stretches, the tension mounting.)
Amir: (finally speaking, his voice measured) "You’re either sincere—or a very good liar. Either way, time will reveal the truth. For now, I’ll give you a chance to prove yourself. There’s a new assignment coming up. You’ll have a more central role this time."
Shabad: (hiding his alarm, forcing a determined nod) "Thank you, Baba. I won’t let you down."
Amir: (smiling faintly, but there’s no warmth in it) "We’ll see. But remember this—loyalty is not just about following orders. It’s about belief, conviction. If you’re not fully committed, it will show, and the consequences will be... severe."
(Shabad swallows hard, nodding again. Amir rises, signaling the end of the conversation.)
Amir: (as he walks toward the door) "Rest now. Tomorrow will be a busy day. And Shabad—don’t make me regret trusting you."
(Shabad’s mind spinning. He knows the stakes have never been higher. Amir is testing him, and one wrong move could expose him—or worse. But he’s also determined to reach his diary and his past.)
Internal Thoughts (Shabad):
"What have I gotten myself into? This isn’t just about stopping him—it’s about surviving. If he even suspects the truth, I won’t get another chance."
Amir sat on the edge of his bed, eyes focused on the floor, his fingers mindlessly twisting a pen. The room was dim, with the evening light filtering through the curtains, casting shadows that seemed to echo his mood. Shazia stood by the door, arms crossed, her expression a mix of concern and frustration.
Shazia: Why are you playing with him?
Amir didn’t look up, his voice flat and almost detached. Amir: I want him to hate me.
Shazia frowned, stepping closer to him. Shazia: Why?
There was a long pause. Amir’s fingers stopped moving, but he still couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze. He sighed, as if the weight of his own thoughts had become too much to carry. Amir: He’s acting smart, like he wants to figure me out, know who I am. But I can’t let him. I can't let him see me for who I really am, Shazia. I can't reveal myself to him.
Shazia’s expression softened, but there was an edge of disbelief in her voice. Shazia: Amir, this isn’t the way to handle it. Instead of playing these games, why not just let him know? You’re just making things worse for yourself... and for him. You’re spoiling everything.
Amir finally lifted his head, meeting her gaze for the first time. His eyes, usually so calm, flickered with uncertainty. Amir: I can’t just tell him. You don’t understand. If I let him in, if I show him who I really am, everything changes. I don’t want that, not yet. He’s too curious, too persistent... His voice trailed off, and for a moment, he seemed lost in the swirl of his own thoughts.
Shazia’s tone softened, but there was a quiet intensity in her words. Shazia: You think keeping him in the dark is going to protect you? It’s only making things harder. You’re pushing him away, but you’re also pushing yourself into a corner. Maybe it’s not about revealing everything all at once, but just letting him see a little piece of who you are. You don’t have to give him all of you... but hiding won’t help either.
Amir stood up, walking to the window, his back to Shazia. He gazed out, but his thoughts were far away. Amir: I don’t know how to do that. I’m not like you, Shazia. You always know exactly what to say, how to make people understand. I don’t have that skill. If I open up, what if it all falls apart?
Shazia stepped closer, her voice gentle now, but firm. Shazia: You think it’ll fall apart, but in reality, the more you hide, the more you build walls that will eventually collapse. The truth is, hiding from him—hiding from yourself—is only going to make it harder when the walls do come down. It’s not about giving up control, Amir. It’s about trusting that things will be okay, even when you're vulnerable.
Amir stood in silence, his back still turned, wrestling with the quiet turmoil inside him. He wanted to trust her, wanted to believe that letting someone in could make everything clearer. But the fear—the overwhelming fear of exposure, of losing himself in someone else's understanding—held him back.
Amir: What if he doesn’t like what he sees?
Shazia: What if he does? You won’t know unless you let him. But if you keep this up, all you’ll have is distance, and you’ll be alone with your own walls. Is that what you want?
Amir exhaled slowly, his heart heavy. He wasn’t sure. But maybe, just maybe, there was some truth to what Shazia was saying. Maybe it was time to stop playing games.
For Weeks, Amir had been sending him on increasingly cryptic assignments—delivering messages, overseeing business transactions, handling sensitive documents—but now, Shabad had reached a breaking point. He couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was terribly wrong. His father was involved in something far darker than Shabad could have ever imagined, and he had a sinking suspicion he was being used, manipulated like a pawn in a game he didn't fully understand.
The door creaked open. Amir stood in the doorway, his expression cold but unreadable.
Amir: (glancing at Shabad with barely a flicker of recognition) "You’re still up? I thought you'd be in bed by now."
Shabad: (distracted, eyes narrowed) "I couldn’t sleep. There’s something you’re not telling me, Baba."
Amir: (pausing, his face betraying no emotion) "What are you talking about?"
Shabad stood up from his seat, his mind buzzing with anger and confusion. He had kept his questions to himself for far too long. This time, he would confront his father. He couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling in his gut any longer.
Shabad: "These tasks you keep giving me… they’re getting darker. What is this, Baba? Who are you really?"
Amir’s eyes narrowed for a moment, the smallest flicker of something dangerous crossing his face. He took a step forward, leaning against the doorframe. The air between them grew heavier, like a storm about to break.
Amir: (his tone turning cold) "You’ve done what I asked, Shabad. Why the sudden doubt now?"
Shabad clenched his fists at his sides, his voice shaky with emotion.
Shabad: "Because I’ve been following your instructions like a good son, but now I see it. I see how you’ve been using me. Every task, every step, it’s all part of something I don’t understand. And I’m not blind anymore. What is it? What are you really involved in?"
For a long moment, Amir said nothing, his gaze piercing as though he was calculating his next move.
Shabad: "Baba, No more games."
Amir didn’t even look up. his face unreadable. But there was a flicker in his eyes, as if he had expected this.
Amir: "You’ve been quiet for too long. What’s on your mind, Shabad?"
Shabad: "I know what you’ve been doing. The diary, the codes, the secrecy. It’s not just about protecting us, is it? It’s bigger than that. You’ve been hiding things from me, and I can’t pretend anymore. I need to know the truth."
Amir’s expression hardened, and for a moment, Shabad saw a flicker of something dark in his father’s eyes—anger, fear, or perhaps both.
Amir: "The truth? You think you’re ready for the truth? You have no idea what you’re asking for, Shabad. You’ve seen glimpses, but that’s all you’ll ever get. You think you can handle what I’ve been through, what I’ve done? You’re wrong."
Shabad’s frustration boiled over. He wasn’t just questioning his father’s actions anymore; he was questioning everything.
Shabad: "I’m not asking for all the answers. Just give me one—what’s in the diary, Baba? What have you been hiding? And why all the lies?"
For the first time, Amir’s mask cracked. He stood up slowly, his body tense, as though bracing for a storm. He stepped closer to Shabad, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper.
Amir: "You don’t understand. I had to make sure you never knew the truth. I’ve done things that can never be undone."
Shabad: "I’m not asking for excuses. I’m asking for the truth. If you’ve really been protecting me, then stop lying."
Amir’s hands shook as he reached into the drawer of his desk and pulled out the old, weathered diary—the one Shabad had been searching for. He tossed it onto the table between them.
Amir: "There it is. The truth, written in ink. But be warned, Shabad. Once you open that book, there’s no going back. I’m not the man you think I am.”
Shabad felt a chill run down his spine as he stared at the diary. His hands hovered over it, unsure if he was ready to face what lay inside. The man in front of him was no longer the father he had known.
Amir: "Read it, if you must. But know this—what you find inside will change everything. I’ve spent my life running from my past, but the truth doesn’t stay hidden forever."
