I looked straight into the mirror, checking the white uniform I wore for the slightest speck of dirt or a fault in the crease. This was a morning ritual but my mind was elsewhere today as I mulled over the task at hand.
Dipankar Mukherjee, the head of Readomania Publishers, had requested me to pen a few lines. Not difficult by any yardstick for an author who had penned a book of 80,000 words... or so I thought.
His question had been simple? Why did you write this book?
'Why did I write The Eleventh Indian? What kind of a question was that?' I asked myself even as my eyes bore into the mirror, searching for an answer.
‘You don't know or you don't want to tell...’ mocked a voice from within and my shoulders drooped before I straightened myself up the next moment. If you didn’t walk the tightrope, you would never know if you could.
‘There is nothing to hide. This book is inspired by a real life rescue mission,’ I started, glad to see myself making some headway. I shifted my stance and stood ramrod with no intention of letting my devilish inner mind checkmate me at this stage. I had christened it ‘Mr Devil’, a long time back.
‘The story is told from the eyes of Rohan who narrates the unfolding of the high voltage drama as Nigerian pirates board his merchant ship on the high seas,’ I continued.
‘This wasn't the first piracy that you handled during your tenure in Nigeria,’ declared Mr Devil and a frosty stare was enough to silence him before I proceeded further.
‘This was special. Have you forgotten the drama on the high sea and the suicidal oceanic voyage?’ I protested.
‘Not at all,’ retorted Mr Devil before prodding me further. 'Piracies always happen on the High Seas,' he said, sounding almost apologetic.
I seethed from within. The devil had to be shown his place.
‘Do you remember those traumatic forty days?’ I demanded with a scowl on my face. ‘Have you forgotten the see-saw battle between hope and despair?’ I continued, and a deathly silence prevailed. ‘New challenges arose each day. In fact, each day brought the boys closer to death,’ I recollected, a faraway look on my face.
‘You still haven't answered the question. What made it so special that you wrote a book on it?’ The devil persisted from within, jolting me back to reality.
Just as I raised my hands in defeat, it was Mr Devil who provided the answer.
‘Was it the indomitable spirit of the sailors that inspired you? A spirit that refused to break. A spirit that refused to bow… and a spirit that wanted to survive against all odds when pitted against the brutal pirates and the vicious mafia… not to forget the devilish ploy of the Boko Haram terrorists and the intertwined sinister conspiracies.’
I stood rooted in front of the mirror, and then Mr Devil struck the final blow.
‘That spirit reminded you of your military values. The 'will to win' reminded you of a new resurgent India where gone are the days of consolation messages that used to say… “Well fought Blue, but Red is the winner”.’
‘Now, when Blue fights, he fights to win,’ I whispered, with a lump in my throat.
Realisation dawned, and I patted the devil inside me. Nothing could be closer to the truth. I whistled softly and began to write….
The Eleventh Indian was released on 20 June 2019 and is available here.
Read more about the book here.
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