The Cursed Shell

33

[PRESENT DAY, 2015]

Blake Johnson, a techie and a black–market smuggler and dealer, was sitting in his study–room. He had yellow dyed hair and a little beard. He was chubby and short–heighted. His room was always messed.

The door–bell rang. He opened the door and there stood his childhood friend, Joshua Lamb, grinning.

"Yo bro," Blake greeted. "I think you've come to thank me, haven't you?"

"Okay," Josh rolled his eyes. "Thank you for hacking the CCTV, which helped me a lot before I gave money to the guard of that cabin and came out."

"Actually, you know, it's very simple," Blake boasted. "I just have to hover my fingers over my key–board and the entire security could be under my control."

"I need more help from you", Josh said.

"Go on."

"I need some high-tech security equipments. No matter how much they cost. I just want them. How much do you have at the moment?" asked Josh.

"Zero," Blake said, coining his fingers, "but I can have access to hundreds of such equipments just with a click on my keyboard!"

"I want one hundred high-tech cameras," Josh said, "and fifty defence equipments."

Blake stared him as if he were mad. "Bro, do you think I sell one such equipment for one dollar? According to the quality of those equipments you're saying, they must worth a lot and I'll take even more than that as I also have to make some profit."

Josh laughed and then whispered into Blake's ear. "Do you really think that I've only hundred and fifty dollars in my account?"

Then he handed him a cheque granting a few million dollars to Blake. Blake grinned. "I'll manage them."

"When will I get them?" Josh asked.

"You'll get them by tomorrow."

"Okay then. Send them to my address."

Blake crossed his eye–brows. "Your address? What is it?"

"I'll tell you by tomorrow," Josh said. "Wait, I've another work for you."

He handed a postcard sized photograph of a young man in his mid-twenties. "This is Ritesh Dhawan. Ask your friends to bring him to me by today evening. He must be roaming in this city only. I'll give your friends millions of dollars to do this work. And yes, I want him alive."

"Okay, that's not a big deal," Blake said. "Anything else?"

"No, you've done enough for me," Josh kept his hand on Blake's shoulder. "This is the last time I'm asking you to do something."

"Why?" Blake asked. "Are you going to hide somewhere after this?"

"You'll get that soon", Josh said and then with a pat on Blake's shoulder, he started walking away from his door. He seemed to be pleased. He was very close to his destination. He remembered when it all started.

[10 YEARS AGO, 2005]

"Goodbye, Blake", Josh bid and entered his bungalow's door after school. Now he didn't have any fear of being beaten by anyone. If anyone dared to bully him, Josh responded in the same way or in a way which was generally worse than that.

He walked into the living room. He couldn't see his father there. He always used to see his father sitting there whenever he was back from school. Anyway, he wasn't even curious to know what his father was doing at the moment. He was usually frustrated when his father talked about Gods and other religious stuffs.

Just like his father, Josh had a strong belief in Gods too, but in a different way. 'The Gods are evil who always discriminated against the demons, and humans learnt the same from the Gods', he used to think.

Josh's eyes suddenly fell on a glass container containing a piece of white shiny stone which looked much like a marble stone. He picked it up and looked all around it. Then his eyes fell on a bunch of old pages. It seemed to have almost hundred to one-thirty pages. Josh kept the glass container back on the table from where he picked it. He sat down on floor and turned the first page of the manuscript. There he saw a black-and-white photograph. He focused his eyes on it. It didn't take much time for him to realise that it was a conch-shell, which he knew as his father talked a lot about it. He knew that a conch shell, or Shankha, as it is called in Hindi, is believed to be holy and is widely used in prayers and special occasions by the Hindus all over the world. He could see some words scratched on the shell, but he wasn't able to understand it because of the picture quality of that black-and-white photo and because he didn't know the language it was written in. This photograph was later sent to Mrs Annabelle Broom by Mr Lamb after a few years.

Then Josh looked at the first page of its manuscript. He soon realised that it was the Devanagari script, which was also told about to him by his father.

Todd Lamb entered the room. He saw Josh with that manuscript and shouted, "Josh!"

Josh looked back. Mr Lamb pushed him aside and he fell down on the floor.

As soon as Mr Lamb realised what he did, he rushed to pull his son up. "Oh my God! I'm so sorry, Josh. Are you okay?"

He hugged his son after pulling him up. Josh freed himself from his father's hug and stepped a little away.

Mr Lamb was feeling bad for pushing his son, whom he loved the most than anything else in the world.

"I'm sorry, Josh," Mr Lamb looked at the manuscript, "but I can't tell you what it is."

"I'm not even eager to know what it is!" Josh shouted and rushed upstairs towards his room.

That night, even on bed, he just kept thinking one thing. 'What is so special in that manuscript, that photo and that piece of stone?'

He understood that the manuscript had a special importance for his father. His father shares everything with him. But why he didn't tell anything about the manuscript to him?

Josh remembered that whatever was written in the manuscript was written in Devanagari. He also remembered that Sanskrit, which is considered to be the oldest language, is written in Devanagari too. Todd Lamb was a Sanskrit scholar, so without any doubt, the first guess that Josh made was that it was written in Sanskrit. He wanted to know what was written in the manuscript. Josh was barely ever curious to know something at that age. But he couldn't press his curiosity to know what was in that manuscript.

The next morning, Todd Lamb was surprised and delighted to hear from his son that he wanted to learn the oldest language, Sanskrit, as he never thought that his son would ever have an interest in that.