“It is 5:30 Anitha, better hurry up!” I told my daughter. Whilst she was bathing, I made sure all her items were ready. When she came with water dripping all over, I dried her with towel and dressed her with the bullet proof jacket. I reached for the head gear and connected it with the hose. I then connected the other end of the hose to the oxygen packet which she had put on her back. After testing the voice & video reception I covered her face with it. I picked her carry back from beside the pile of bullets that was scattered over her study table and checked if it contains the trivial ammunitions. When she turned to drink the energy drink I sneaked her b’day present into her bag. My attention was distracted by the buzzing of her school communication channel proclaiming that the transport system has arrived. We hurried to the door and as usual waited for the 10 guards to inspect the entrance area for exact 2 minutes. After the checkup they opened the door. We immediately went for the military wagon. After helping Anitha climb in I ran back into the house as we were allowed only 2 minutes for human transport.
“Happy b’day Anitha”.
“Happy b’day Anitha”.
“Oh that … its nothing. After 3 hours of struggle as hostage under the Maoists we made a reply fight. Thanks to my brother's school project we could attack them from remote and drive them away.”
“That’s cool man. Hope your family sends it to our leader so that he can mass produce it for all of us.
Neways am dying to check out the present my mother hid inside my bag this morning.”
I turned to concentrate on my bag. It contained so many miniature artilleries and tweaks. After thorough search I found a rose box underneath a dozen sniper cartridges. Eagerly I removed it from the bag and kept it on my lap. Curiosity taking the better of me I started tearing the cover for I knew my mom always gives me the best gifts. Voila, this time too she rocked. Seriously this woman knows what to buy. It was a pair of highly advanced weapon sensory shoes. I removed my ordinary old shoes and wore the right shoe first. I then slowly inserted the left shoe into my iron leg so that the transmitter at the ankle area of the shoe doesn’t short circuit with the receptor at the ankle part of my leg. After inserting it in I connected the transmitter to the receptor and the non-sensory leg started sending signal to the brain again. To be precise it’s been a year since my brain received data from my left leg after that faithful day when I stepped on the landmine that the Naxals had planted outside our school building. I later heard that it was nothing but a training session for the trainees in their team.