Crossing the Line

K Maldahiyar Aabhas

Description

History says, when corruption becomes an integral part of system, some individual always come up front with sacrifices to fight against it. Yet again it happened in the 21st century within the precinct of biggest democracy of world. Aditya Sinha is a Michigan studied Journalist turned Architect. He is very revolutionary and resilient by attitude, following which he takes up a career as a Professor and then as an IAS officer. But his indifferent approach doesn't let him stay anywhere. Aditya's honest docile image earns him a Lok Sabha general election's ticket, as a consequence of ploy by Rajkamal Awasthi, an important member of the opposition of then. Aditya goes on to win the election from his constituency and is awarded by the post of HRD minister. He comes up with agenda to revive the Constitution and the system of Education along with amendments in the laws of professional practices. His bills appear to be thorn in the throats of many politicians, bureaucrats and educationalists. They start conspiring against him. Will he be able to implement his bill and crush the heads of venomous snakes doing business at the name of education? Let's witness the untold story of a rebellion of 21st century in his quest, "Crossing the Line".

Sujets

• Romance

Informations

• Publié par: Diamond Books
• Date de parution: 01 janvier 0001
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9789350835944
• Langue: English

Extrait

Crossing the Line
A threat to unethical Politicians, Bureaucrats and cheap Educationists


eISBN: 978-93-5083-594-4
© Author
Publisher: Diamond Pocket Books (P) Ltd.
X-30, Okhla Industrial Area, Phase-II
New Delhi-110020
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E-mail: [e-mail]
Website: www.diamondbook.in
Edition: 2013
Crossing the Line
By - Aabhas K Maldahiyar
Dedicated to all who dare to raise voice
against ills of the system!
Acknowledgement
This book is indeed an episode from the chronicle of Great Combat against the decaying acerbic system and a story of such credibility always has a large populace threading the same. I'm extremely grateful to Prof. Sanjadhi Chatterjee who significantly plays the role of "Krishna" in this fight and is always there with fantabulous suggestions and denigration whenever needed.
I'm in deep debt to my Mother for the precious time she imparted to make me learn the basics in language of scripting which has finally helped me to at-least bring up the story. Also a bouquet of thanks is a must for my Grandmother, whose storytelling skill has helped me give a try for few. My intense fume of gratitude goes to my Father whose principles have found deep roots within me. I'm also thankful to Achal Maldahiyar, Mukesh Sinha (Uncles), Rigvendra Aayush, Siddharth Sourabh, Kunal Sinha (Brothers) all the sisters and rest whole family members who ever helped me at their best.
I'm also extremely thankful to my Alma Matters' family, Piloo Mody College of Architecture and D.A.V. Public School, Hazaribagh for training me the best as the one.
There is no way, the damsel, and queen of my thoughts, Tejal Pardhy cannot be thanked. I'm very thankful to her for continuously rousing me walk ahead with the notion to bring best for the globe.
I'm very obliged to Prof. Uday Gadkari, Prof. Abhay Purohit, Prof. Milind Gujarkar and whole IDEAS family who encourage me in taking up pen despite hectic working calendar. But there are few from this family who need special mentions, Ar. Amit Shelke for assisting me in designing cover page, Prof. Mankar, for regularly inflaming my thoughts and structuring them with proper reinforcement. I'm also thankful to buddies at IDEAS, Harshal Sir, Devendra Sir and Manoj Sir who helped me maintain my tempo to write. I'm enormously gratified to all my dear students at IDEAS who have actually been best teachers of my life.
There are large bulk of people whom I have never met but they have been an essential contributor for the book you are holding, lots of gratitude goes to Himani Goyal and Abhilash Veeru Ruhela for the candid review of "Restart" (my first book), which has helped me improvise many times in my writing skills. I'm extremely thankful to all the readers of same who this way or other encouraged me to pen down the next. I'm very thankful to Vishal Anand who has been regularly floating me with abundant of suggestions and critical appraisals throughout the progress of manifesto.
Also vote of thanks goes to Vaibhav Kaushal, my school mate who helped me generate ideas for promotional video along with his younger brother, Gyandeep (Author of "The TEEN").
There is no way I can ignore few people's concern, who are no less than gems. Special token of thanks goes to Vinod Pardhi, Preeti Singh ma'am, Nitin Vinay Khare and Prashant Gandhi who regularly kept suggesting me whenever needed.
Last but not the least, a heartiest thanks also goes to Mr.Narendra Verma; Chairman, Diamond Pocket Books and the entire team of Diamond Pocket Books for giving me part of their esteemed family.
–Aabhas K Maldahiyar
[e-mail]
Prologue
He keeps racing for his life through the unknown woods of Keonjhar, Orissa. His feet were tangling; he escapes on numerous occasions before finally being crashed into a large tree. He could sniff earth dusts to soon get blemished into the state of unconsciousness that almost meant a death to him, as pellet was pierced into his thigh, and the chemical was sure to show its honesty. The party time for Ghost-rider appeared too close and approaching.
However, fortune is always written to be an un-anticipated verb for natural beings. It proves its worth yet again. He is fortuned to fall at the hand of other troubles post to meet with king of heaven or hell.
He feels some twinge in whole body and finds it uphill to push up visionary shutters, but when it opens, things around seems feathered and faded. Although gradually the objects around were turning lucid and prominent. Shuddery aghast arrives as soon as the photons from optical organ reflects back to portray the existents, he seems anonymous habitant to the inside's surrounding. So far taught and studied vernacularism of built spaces was in front of him.
A person appears to be standing near the orifice of built set up; again anonymity was a sure expression knowing the manifestation he was in. The person was wearing military attire, hanging a long barrel gun to a side. He was dark in complexion and tall in height; just few inches less to a lintel while his long bushy moustache almost made curve to meet side burns, at the same time a scarce on his face yelled to describe his aggression and fierce attitude.
"Be tucked in there. You are under our custody," he tells in a high alarming tone pointing through his hands. Adi jabs back to the rope cot. The man keeping an eye on him peeps outside and whistles making some hand postures. Soon just after a gap of fraction of minute, three more men come in. They wore almost similar dressing as that of the first person. One of those three, walking in the middle of two, didn't carry a big barreled gun, though a pistol was stuck to his waist. He was very tall and very fair in complexion while solidity reflected from his countenance and he seemed to be the leader of all.
One thing was common among all, the scares and cut marks on their faces along with the outfit they wore.
"Who are you?" asks the leader in bold, manly and heavy voice. He emerged to be a strong man and frightening too.
Nothing much runs through his brain, he was not sure for what to speak. He blabbers while speaking, "I'm Adi…" he didn't complete, but soon replied, "Adiraj Shrivastava. I teach in a private primary school."
"Hmm…how did you come in our vicinity?" asks the leader, again using his imposing voice.
"Some unknown people were trying to kill me; I tried to run away in order to save my life, and I don't know how I made it into your den," he replies. He seems to be little worried as his voice was stammering.
"Kill you? But why? Don't even dare to speak lies. We are very dangerous people, playing with life is fun to us."
Traces of sweat appear on his face while leader keeps throttling his nerves. Soon they disperse away leaving him all alone lying within the mud built set up. There was a sole opening, from where beam of light was coming in; its reddish hue clearly demarked the day turning off, as the different chorus of chirpings were deeply heard, also signifying them being stationed in deep woods. His brain makes an alarm by then, he had concludes- he is fallen at the hands of Naxalites. He tries to stand on his feet, but the wound on thigh didn't let him do so..
Horror seemed penetrating deep into his heart, his phone and other belongings were missing and those missed goods were indeed clue to 'The Identity'. The hand of doubt pointed it on his captor, but if at all, they might have killed him by then. He was not certain.
It was never easy due to let the time pass by for hostile urgency running around. He goes till the low heighted door kind of opening of the hut where he was captivated in, while walking down, little pain occurred, following which his expressions turn squashy. It was all very dark around, the humming sound of insects and barks of jackals and wolfs were breaching the real silence ramming through. Few beams of light were visible from various habitat pockets around. At a mere distance of about century of feet, saffron flames kissed the black violet sky. The February cloud, wore indigo outline, which was glittering to full.
Soon, few men again appear; none of them were those whom he saw earlier. Same attire reflects there uniformity.
"How are you feeling now? Hopefully your wound is recovering well enough," says one of those unknowns while hinting others to leave.
"Hmm…I'm recovering well, though little pining pain still remains," he responds.
"Sit down there," That man orders and they both sit down on the cot, "I have to tell something very important to you."
"Yeah, tell me…I'm listening," Adi says with a node.
That man again gets up and peeps around as if to make sure, no one is around. A kind of drama seems to be running in front of Adi. Suddenly, Adi's eyes spread wide to witness the happenings to be followed soon. That man unfolds a pouch and opens it to take out his missing chattels, the mobile phone and wallet.
"Oh shit! I never noticed, they went missing and how did you find them?" Adi asks in a shudder, scrambling worry for some reasonable occurrence fishes him.
Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgment
Prologue
The Arrival
Home after long
The new journey
Swift drive
Meeting the sinner
The holy bath
Assault initiates
IAS brings Kartik
Home tastes bitter
The lost Patliputra
Tasting the coal
Love in danger
City of graduation
Second farewell
Fast shifting
The Constitution's call
Reaching the house
Politician says,“We are thief.”
Drama at Parliament
Leader ≠ Party Man
Education-System
New Bill
Thieves are brothers
Survival of cheapest
Meeting one from stories
Villain is real hero
Chanakya Neeti
Unknown reporter
Crossing the line
Bright morning
The Arrival
The passion and craze to touch the motherland soil after a year was aggressively impatient. It had been long when I smelt the earthy cozy smell; last it was during the monsoon, a couple of years back from the