Operation Death

That was the name of a poem which I was asked to xerox. This poem can be found here.

At the xerox shop was a hostel-mate of mine. This piece of paper had some Arabic calligraphy. Curiously he peeped to see what it was and alas ..."Operation Death!".

Shit!, he wondered. I knew this guy was a muslim. But never thought he would be a terrorist. Now he is planning an attack. What do you I do? Do I have to inform someone or do I spy them and track each and every one of them and then finally pipe them all out.

Shocked, worried but with national responsibility, he kept starring at me with anger. I just collected the large number of copies and left. Since then he tried to find out what I do, who I meet etc.

But as days passed by, the much awaited action never took place. "Sherlock Homes" had to return disappointed.