A Heart-Pounding Thriller Series of Love, Loss, and Redemption
Parts -1,2, 3, 4,5,6,7,8,9,10 &11 are combined to understand the story.
Part 1
Prologue-2019
The planet’s rotation slowed, a subtle yet ominous sign of the chaos unfolding. Climate change, once a distant threat, has become a harsh reality. The consequences were far-reaching, and the world was struggling to cope.
Four years of drought in Spain and no rains. In Ooty, India, the hill station’s lakes had dried up, leaving behind a silence. The United States was grappling with its own water crisis, as rivers dried up like withered veins.
Miami, USA, once a tropical paradise, had witnessed the unthinkable – snowfall. In India, the borewells, once a reliable source of water, now had to dig deeper each year, a desperate attempt to quench the thirst for a planet gone dry. The oceans, too, were rising, swallowing coastal cities whole. The few that remained were now “Ghost Cities,” a haunting reminder of what had been lost.
During this turmoil, a young physics student in Germany watched with keen attention. The unfolding disaster had sparked something within him – a sense of purpose, a drive to understand the change in Earth’s systems.
As the world struggled to come to terms with the new reality, Greta Thunberg’s voice rose above to act. But the world leaders, mired in their own petty world, remained deaf to her pleas and are worried about elections.
The Earth continued its slow, painful rotation. The future hung in balance, as the world on the brink of collapse.
Present Day, Istanbul, Turkey
Inspector Osman prepared to leave the police station on a Friday evening, eager to spend the weekend with his family. But before he could depart, a worried woman, Banu, approached him. Her son, Abdullah, a college student, had failed to return home.
“Please, Inspector,” Banu pleaded, her eyes brimming with tears. “Abdullah never misses his Friday swimming session. He’s been going for four years, and today he didn’t show up. I’ve tried calling him, but his phone is off.”
Osman’s curiosity increased. He asked Banu to explain why she was so concerned. Banu shared that Abdullah’s father, a soldier, had died in the war, leaving her to raise their son alone. Abdullah had grown up with a deep sense of loss, often questioning the purpose of war and the value of medals awarded to fallen soldiers.
Osman listened and his expression sympathetic. He promised Banu that he would investigate Abdullah’s disappearance. After obtaining Abdullah’s mobile number and social media details, Osman contacted Turkcell, the mobile service provider, to trace Abdullah’s last location.
The results led Osman to the Bosphorus Strait, where a sniffer dog discovered Abdullah’s damaged SIM card and backpack, containing his college books. Osman’s instincts told him that this was no ordinary kidnapping. The abandoned belongings suggested a voluntary departure, but why?
As the sun dipped into the horizon, Banu’s anxiety grew. She had lost her husband, and now her only son was gone. Osman shared her concerns, but he was determined to uncover the truth. He vowed to find Abdullah, no matter what it took.
The city’s lights twinkled to life as Osman delved deeper into the mystery. He knew that time was of the essence, and he was ready to face whatever lay ahead.
As days passed, with a heavy heart, Banu walked to Bosphorus Strait, her husband’s medal clutched in her trembling hand. She had held onto it for so long, a reminder of his sacrifice. But now, with Abdullah gone, she couldn’t bear to look at it anymore. With a gentle toss, she sent the medal sailing into the water, watching as it disappeared beneath the waves.
As she turned to leave, Banu felt a sense of resolve wash over her.
“Come back to me, my son,” she whispered, her voice being carried away by the wind.
And so, Banu returned home, her heart aching with every step. She pushed open the door, leaving it wide open, a beacon of welcome for her beloved Abdullah. She would wait for him, no matter how long it took, her love and hope burning bright. She would not give up hope. She would keep the door to their home open, always, waiting for the day when Abdullah would return.
As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, Banu’s resolve never wavered. She kept the door open, a symbol of her unwavering faith in Abdullah’s return. And though the world outside seemed to move on, Banu’s heart remained frozen in time, waiting for the moment when her son would walk back through that open door, and back into her arms.
Was Abdullah kidnapped or killed or had left home?
The story continues….
Naked Island-Part 2
Kanyakumari, Tamil Nadu-India.
In the coastal city of Kanyakumari, Tamil Nadu, the southernmost tip of India, lived Akilan, a dedicated Tamil teacher and headmaster of the Government high school. Despite his modest earnings, Akilan found joy in teaching the Tamil language to his students. He drew inspiration from the renowned Tamil poet, Subramania Bharati. Akilan’s daughter, Bharati, was named after this inspirational figure. Due to financial constraints, Akilan and his wife decided to have only one child. His room was a testament to his admiration for the poet, filled with Bharati’s books and photographs. Akilan did not know that, his daughter would one day follow the ideals of the great poet he so deeply admired.
During her school final exam holidays, Bharati wandered into her father’s room, seeking refuge from the monotony of being an only child. Her eyes landed on the modern Tamil poems and books of Poet Bharathi, and she began to read. As she immersed herself in the poet’s works, she found herself drawn into his world of nationalism, freedom fighting, and social vision.
Bharathi’s question about the poet’s life and legacy is quite thought-provoking. It’s indeed surprising that despite being a national poet, pioneer of modern Tamil literature, and a great freedom fighter, Bharathi had a relatively low-key funeral with only around 14 people in attendance.
As Akilan jokingly pointed out, the lack of social media platforms like Twitter or Facebook during Bharathi’s time might have contributed to the low turnout. However, Bharathi’s works continue to be widely studied and revered in schools across the state, with his picture in every school.
Bharathi’s life was marked by his passion for Tamil literature, nationalism, and social reform. He was proficient in over 30 languages, and his writing reflected his deep understanding of various cultures and ideologies.
Many evenings, Bharati would walk along the Kanyakumari beach, her voice carrying on the wind as she sang the poet’s iconic song: “Achamillai achamillai, acham enpathu illaye”[Fear I have not, even if all the world opposes me. Even if the entire sky breaks and falls on my head, fear I have not] – a declaration of courage in the face of adversity. The lyrics echoed her own growing resolve, inspired by the poet’s unwavering commitment to his values. Bharati was deeply moved by the story of how the poet Bharathi, despite struggling with poverty, had selflessly offered grains to birds, demonstrating a profound sense of compassion.
Bharati’s transformation was nothing short of remarkable. From a timid and shy girl, she blossomed into a confident and fearless individual. She became a regular participant in school elocution competitions, delivering fiery speeches that captivated her audience. Bharati spoke passionately against the caste system in Hindu society, questioning the practice of asking students about their caste during admissions. Wherever she spoke, she popularized the poet’s powerful theme: “If one single man suffers from starvation, we will destroy the entire world”. Inspired by Poet Bharathi’s admiration for Sikhs, she started wearing a turban, just like him. Her mother, Malar Vizhi, would scold her, saying, “If you wear that, no man will marry you!” But Bharati remained unfazed, driven by a sense of purpose in her life.
Bharati’s popularity soared with each passing day. She received a prestigious national award, catapulting her into the spotlight. She did not know that two pairs of eyes from outside the country began watching her every move, tracking her progress. Meanwhile, Akilan was taken aback when Bharati expressed a desire to learn swimming – her first interest outside the world of poetry. He agreed, and was astonished by her dedication, as she attended every swimming class without fail.
One evening wore on, Malar Vizhi busied herself in the kitchen, preparing Bharati’s favorite crispy vada. But as she glanced at the wall clock, she could feel that time was ticking by too quickly. Bharati did not turn up at home, and her usual punctuality made her mother’s anxiety grow every minute. Malar Vizhi informed Akilan, and a sense of unease slowly gripped them. They rushed to Bharati’s college, just a stone’s throw away from their home, only to learn that she had attended classes and left for the day. They searched the city, questioning her friends, but no one seemed to have any information about her whereabouts. As the darkness deepened, they reluctantly approached the local police station. The police sprang into action, mobilizing the entire city force to search for Bharati through the night, but she remained elusive, leaving her parents with only unanswered questions.
The next morning, the news channels erupted sensationalizing Bharati’s disappearance with speculative theories. Some said that she had been kidnapped or murdered due to her fiery speeches, while others suggested that someone had sought to silence her increasingly influential voice. Akilan and Malar Vizhi were caught off guard by the sudden turn of events, their world shattered by the loss of their only child. The thought of living without Bharati was unbearable, and the couple’s grief was compounded by the uncertainty surrounding her disappearance.
Akilan, overcome with grief, stepped into his room, his eyes drawn to the familiar face of Poet Bharathi in the framed picture. He began to speak to the poet, his voice cracking with emotion, “I made my daughter strong, just like you, and yet I’ve lost her.” As he gazed at the picture, his eyes fell upon a small, protruding piece of paper tucked behind the frame. Out of curiosity, Akilan carefully pulled out the paper and unfolded it, revealing a handwritten note. Wiping away his tears, he composed himself to read the message, his heart heavy with anticipation.
The handwritten note message:
“Forgive me, I have chosen the path of Revolution” – Bharathi.
Akilan’s eyes met Malar Vizhi’s as he showed her the paper, and in that moment, they shared a deep understanding. Without a word, they knew what they had to do. Together, they made the difficult decision to tear the paper into pieces, ensuring that the outside world would never know about the revolutionary path their daughter Bharathi had chosen.
The questions swirled in Akilan’s mind like a vortex: Where had Bharathi gone? What revolution was she about to embark on? And what would the world witness because of her actions? The uncertainty hung in the air like a challenge, leaving Akilan and Malar Vizhi with only one certainty: their daughter was gone, and nothing would ever be the same again.
Where has Bharathi gone? What is the revolution she is about to carry on? What is the world going to witness?
The story continues….
Naked Island-Part 3
Karachi, Pakistan
The partition of India and Pakistan in 1947 is an important moment in history, marked by both celebration and tragedy. On August 14, 1947, Pakistan gained independence from British rule, followed by India’s independence on August 15, 1947.
The transition, however, was far from smooth. The division of British India into two separate nations was based on religious lines, with Pakistan intended for Muslims and India for Hindus, although India chose to become a secular republic. This led to one of the largest mass migrations in human history, with approximately 35 million Muslims remaining in secular India.
The aftermath of the partition was marred by violent clashes and displacement of people, resulting in significant loss of life and property. Many stories of this period remain untold.
As the British hastily relinquished control, millions of Muslims embarked on a journey to East and West Pakistan, while millions of Hindus made their way in the opposite direction. The partition, created on religious lines, had unleashed violence and displacement. Instead of the jubilation over independence, a sense of unease settled over the nation as the true horrors of the partition began to unfold. The subsequent days witnessed unimaginable damage, claiming the lives of an estimated 200,000 people. It was against this horrific backdrop that the story of Rashina Begum began.
Ayesha was the youngest of 12 siblings, born into a large and prosperous family in India. But their lives were forever changed when Ayesha’s father heard the radio announcement about the independence and the partition of India and Pakistan. Fearing for their safety, he made the heart-wrenching decision to leave behind their ancestral home and vast cultivation lands in Punjab, India. The family boarded a train, joining the group of refugees fleeing to Pakistan. But their journey was brutally cut short when their train was ambushed by a mob. Ayesha, just 10 years old at the time, and her father were the only survivors, forced to witness the gruesome slaughter of their entire family. With no choice but to move on, they managed to escape and eventually reached the city of Karachi, Pakistan. There, Ayesha grew up, got married, and had a child. And though the scars of her past would never fully heal, she got a daughter and named her Rashina Begum.
Rashina Begum, a young schoolgirl, skipped school on Wednesday, March 25, 1992, a day that would be in the memories of Pakistanis forever. It was the day Pakistan, led by the visionary captain Imran Khan, defied the odds to win the Cricket World Cup. The final match was against England at the Melbourne Cricket Ground in Australia. Pakistan’s batting struggled in the first session, but a remarkable turnaround in the second session saw them emerge victorious, lifting the coveted trophy. Imran Khan’s inspirational leadership and Pakistan’s historic win sparked a cricketing craze across the nation. For Rashina Begum, it was a great moment, inspiring her to pick up a cricket bat and take her first steps towards becoming a cricketer.
Rashina Begum’s cricketing skills knew no bounds. A gifted stroke player and destructive opening batter, she rose through the ranks to become the captain of the Pakistan national cricket team. Her incredible talent and leadership skills made her a national icon, with many games won single-handedly by her brilliance. One such memorable match was against arch-rivals India, which Pakistan won, thanks to Rashina Begum’s exceptional performance.
Returning home, elated by her victory, Rashina Begum asked her mother Ayesha, “Did you watch the match today?” Ayesha remained silent and her expression unreadable. Rashina Begum asked again, “Did you watch?” Ayesha’s response was measured, “I don’t watch matches between Pakistan and India. The memories of partition still linger, and the media hype creates unnecessary pressure. It’s just a game, not war. One team wins, the other loses. The best team on the day emerges victorious, but the media amplifies.”
Ayesha’s words unlocked a floodgate of memories, and for the first time, Rashina Begum heard the tragic tale of Pakistan-India partition that had torn their family apart. As she listened, Rashina Begum’s eyes welled up with tears, and she felt a deep regret for choosing a profession that had brought her mother so much pain. “Why,” Rashina Begum asked, her voice trembling, “hasn’t there been a leader on either side who could heal the wounds and put an end to the hatred?” Ayesha’s response was laced with sadness: “It’s because they want to keep the hatred burning, to secure their own positions. No one has the vision to see beyond the divisions and prioritize humanity. I fear that until there’s a revolution, things won’t change.” That night conversation marked a turning point in Rashina Begum’s life.
Days passed, and Rashina Begum’s thoughts lingered on the conversation. One day, she asked Ayesha, “When will our two countries truly find peace and shake hands?” Ayesha’s eyes clouded over as she replied, “The day will come when both nations recognize that all religions are equal and deserving of respect. The day when a temple, mosque, and church stand together in harmony in a place, that’s when we’ll see true peace. But I fear that day is still a distant dream.”
Rashina Begum’s disillusionment with the cricketing world deepened when she was approached to participate in the 20:20 overs league cricket matches. She flatly refused, citing her concerns that the shortened format had reduced the game to a mere spectacle, stripping it of its essence. In her opinion, the commercialization of the game has changed the traditional 5-day test cricket and would eventually sound the death knell for the 50 overs one day match too. The prospect of the game being further reduced to a 10:10 overs format may become true one day. Her stance angered the sponsors of the 20:20 overs league, but Rashina Begum remained resolute in her decision to walk away from the game. However, fate had other plans. A reunion with her childhood friend in Germany, and she embarked on a journey that would alter her life’s path. Upon her return to Pakistan, Rashina Begum surprised everyone by enrolling in swimming classes, marking the beginning of a new chapter in her life.
Four years passed. Now, the stage was set for the 50 overs one day women’s international world cup tournament. Pakistan, led by Rashina Begum, had stormed through the league matches, reaching the finals with an unbeaten record. Their arch-rivals, India, had their success, setting the stage for a thrilling finale. The National Stadium in Karachi, Rashina Begum’s hometown, was with excitement as the two teams prepared to clash. However, beneath her steely exterior, Rashina Begum’s mind was a mountain of emotions. The weight of expectation was crushing her – a win would bring Pakistan its first-ever world cup title, but a loss would open anger and disappointment, potentially even putting her family’s safety at risk. The memories of the partition, shared by her mother, continued to haunt her, casting a long shadow over the match.
The pressure had become too much for Rashina Begum to bear. In a shocking move, she informed the cricket board that she would not be playing in the final match against India. The board was stunned, and their initial shock quickly gave way to desperation. They urged Rashina Begum to reconsider, emphasizing that there was no alternative, and that the entire nation was counting on her to lead Pakistan to victory. The news soon leaked to the media, sending shockwaves across the nation. Overnight, Rashina Begum became the point of the country’s attention, with everyone from fans to pundits weighing in on her decision.
Rashina Begum returned to the hotel that night, where her teammates were staying for the big game, the next day. The next morning, the team bus arrived to take them to the National Stadium in Karachi. As the players boarded the bus, one person was absent – Rashina Begum. Her teammates tried to reach her, but her phone was unreachable. A search went on, but Rashina Begum had vanished into thin air, leaving behind a trail of unanswered questions. The game went ahead without her, and Pakistan suffered a crushing defeat. As feared, Rashina Begum’s house in Karachi was ransacked by angry fans. The question on everyone’s lips was: where had Rashina Begum gone? Had she fled to escape the backlash, or was something more sinister at play?
At the US Navy Headquarters in Washington DC, a high-level meeting was convened to discuss a mysterious event. Unidentified objects had been detected moving beneath the sea, evading radar detection but emitting faint signals. The US Navy’s top brass was stumped, and the implications were ominous. An urgent message was conveyed to the US President, warning of a potential terrorist attack from the sea, sparking a flurry of activity in Washington.
The story continues….
Naked Island-Part 4
Edinburgh, Scotland.
One Sunday morning, Alexander was preparing to attend services at St. Giles Cathedral. As a prominent businessman in the city, he was a regular attendee. However, upon arrival, he was met with a commotion. A young boy, Brodie, had been caught stealing money from a wallet. The bishop, though sympathetic, felt compelled to hand the boy over to the authorities. Alexander’s gaze fell upon Brodie, and his expression softened as he took in the boy’s malnourished appearance. Moved by compassion, Alexander asked the boy why he had resorted to theft. Brodie’s response was heart-wrenching: “I haven’t eaten in three days, and I’m hungry.” Alexander’s inquiry about Brodie’s family was met with a sad reply: “I have no home.” The boy’s words struck a chord within Alexander, who had lost his wife and son in a car accident three years prior, on this very day.
Brodie’s life took a dramatic turn under Alexander’s care. Despite being surrounded by luxury, he chose to sleep on the carpet, a reminder of his humble beginnings. As he grew, Brodie became a person of discipline, embodying the values instilled by Alexander. Inspired by his guardian’s words, Brodie joined the esteemed Scotland Police force, determined to serve society. Rising through the ranks as a detective, he earned a reputation for solving the most baffling and cold cases, thanks to his tireless work ethic and unwavering dedication. Every evening, Brodie would visit Alexander’s room, sharing stories of his cases and recounting the events of his day. As the years passed, their bond grew stronger, to become a deep and abiding father-son relationship.
Brodie’s approach to detective work was guided by the wisdom of Steve Jobs: “You can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards.” With this mindset, Brodie tackled even the most complex and unsolved cases, using his exceptional analytical skills to decipher the evidence and crack the toughest nuts. His ability to connect the dots and remain impartial earned him widespread recognition and respect, propelling him to the top of the Scotland Police force.
Brodie was known for his unwavering commitment to justice, refusing to yield to political pressure or interference. His precondition for taking on a case was clear: he would not entertain instructions or influence from any political leader, regardless of their stature. Conversely, if during an investigation, Brodie discovered that the accused was, in fact, a victim of circumstance or mistaken identity, he would promptly clear their name and close the case.
Brodie’s relaxing Sunday evening at Silver Sand beach with his family was abruptly cut short by an urgent call from the Prime Minister. The gravity of the situation became clear as soon as Brodie arrived at the Prime Minister’s residence and spotted the picture of Rashina Begum on the dining table.
The Prime Minister revealed that the President of Pakistan had personally requested Scotland Police’s assistance in locating Rashina Begum, who had seemingly vanished into thin air. With no leads or clues, the Pakistani authorities were stumped, and the President was counting on Brodie’s expertise to crack the case.
Brodie’s inquiry about his working rules was met with a smile from the Prime Minister, who expressed his confidence in Brodie’s abilities, saying, “You are the only hope to find her out.” The Prime Minister then handed Brodie tickets to Karachi, Pakistan, indicating that the investigation would take him to Karachi, Pakistan.
Brodie stepped off the plane in Karachi, the humid air enveloping him as he began his quest to unravel the mystery of Rashina Begum’s disappearance. The stakes were high, and the eyes of two nations were upon him.
Would Brodie’s exceptional detective skills be enough to crack this high-profile case, or would it prove to be his first failure?
The story continues…
Naked Island-Part 5
Karachi, Pakistan.
Brodie’s investigation in Karachi began with a warm welcome from the Intelligence Chief of Pakistan. With the chief’s assistance, Brodie gathered Rashina Begum’s tour schedules and visited the hotel where she was last seen. A thorough review of her travel history revealed a discrepancy – a trip to Germany that was not official.
The CCTV footage from the hotel showed Rashina Begum changing her attire and departing without any luggage. This unusual behavior evoked Brodie’s interest. Further investigation led him to Rashina Begum’s social media accounts, which had been dormant for five years. Brodie requested the social media headquarters to provide a list of personnel with access to the account who had not used social media in the past five years.
After analyzing the evidence, Brodie concluded that Rashina Begum was neither kidnapped nor killed but had instead voluntarily disappeared. The question on everyone’s mind was: where had she gone? As a globally recognized figure, it seemed impossible for her to escape unnoticed. Brodie suspected that Rashina Begum had executed a meticulously planned escape, hinting at a larger scheme.
Brodie’s next step was to visit Rashina Begum’s residence, situated on the outskirts of Karachi. The grand, beautifully landscaped house was preceded by a lush garden, which Brodie walked through, taking in every detail. His observant eyes noticed a small, lifeless bird under a tree. Glancing up, he realized that none of the trees in the expansive garden had any nests – a peculiarity that lodged in the back of his mind. He also spotted a large, empty swimming pool, devoid of water.
As he approached the house, Brodie was greeted by Ayesha, who looked dull. “Many have come here, asking questions about Rashina Begum,” she said, “but none have been able to find her. I’m exhausted, and it’s been a lonely existence since Rashina Begum’s father passed away due to illness. Whenever Rashina traveled for her cricket tournaments, I’d be left alone, but this time, it feels different.”
Brodie’s inquiry about Rashina Begum’s trip to Germany a few years prior sparked a response from Ayesha. “She visited her close friend and classmate who lives in Germany,” Ayesha explained. “It was a reunion of sorts, after many years.” The conversation continued, with Brodie carefully gathering more information.
As he prepared to leave, Brodie offered Ayesha a reassuring glimpse into his thoughts. “I strongly believe that Rashina is alive, but not in Pakistan. I think she’s left for a bigger purpose, and I aim to uncover it soon.” With that, Brodie bid Ayesha farewell, his mind already racing with the possibilities.
As Brodie went near the swimming pool, he inquired, “For whom was this expensive swimming pool built?” Ayesha replied, “Rashina Begum has used it extensively over the past five years.” Brodie’s gaze fell upon the “Evaporative pool cooler” installed by the pool. His curiosity increased, he asked Ayesha, “What prompted the installation of this cooling system?” Ayesha’s response was straightforward: “Rashina Begum always preferred taking a cold swim.”
Brodie’s mind began to whirl with questions. “Why would she consistently opt for cold swimming, despite its potential health drawbacks? Even Olympic regulations stipulate a minimum water temperature of 21 degrees.” As he departed the house, walking through the garden towards his car, Brodie’s thoughts lingered on this peculiar aspect of Rashina Begum’s behavior, sensing that there must be a specific reason behind it.
As Brodie walked back to his car, he noticed the same small, lifeless bird lying under the tree, its feathers still fresh. He approached the tree, observing the bird’s plumage, and wondered why no insects were swarming to decompose the carcass. A few steps away, a spark of curiosity ignited within him. He turned back, picked up the bird, and examined it closely. The feathers felt artificial, and the bird was surprisingly light. As he gently opened the feathers, he was shocked to discover that the bird was a meticulously crafted artificial replica.
Brodie’s eyes widened as he dismantled the bird, revealing a small chip and a dead battery within. The implications were clear. This was no ordinary bird, but a sophisticated communicative device. Brodie realized that this was just the first layer of a complex web, carefully orchestrated by a mastermind. He sensed that a much larger, more intricate plan was unfolding, with a significant outcome anticipated in the very near future.
Brodie returned to his hotel, determined to crack the code embedded in the small chip. As he had anticipated, the chip was inactive, rendering its contents inactive. He understood that this chip was one of the failed attempts to convey a message to Rashina Begum.
A multitude of questions swirled in Brodie’s mind. Who was sending these cryptic messages, and what was their purpose? Rashina Begum’s reputation was good, with no suspicious transactions in her accounts beyond her cricket winnings. She had abandoned a life of fame and fortune, and there was no evidence of a romantic partner. The mystery deepened.
As Brodie went deeper into the case, he received the list of personnel with dormant social media accounts from the social media cell. He instructed them to provide more detailed information: “How many account holders are still alive? How many have disappeared? Why did they abandon their social media accounts?” He also requested the list be segregated by country, hoping to uncover a pattern or connection that might lead him closer to the truth.
Brodie swiftly alerted Interpol, requesting data on recently missing youths from around the world. The response was overwhelming, but one name caught his attention: Bharathi from Kanyakumari, India. She topped the list, and Brodie’s instincts told him that this was more than just a coincidence.
With his exceptional attention to detail, Brodie began to scrutinize the information, slowly unraveling the threads of a much larger and complex network. The pieces were starting to fall into place, and Brodie’s determination to crack the case grew stronger.
Would he be able to expose the masterminds behind this sinister plot, or would they remain elusive? The investigation was heating up, and Brodie was getting closer to the truth.
The story continues…
Naked Island-Part 6
Barcelona, Spain.
Lorena, a proud native of Barcelona’s Catalonian community, had experienced the harsh realities of conflict. Her father’s tragic loss in battle had left an indelible mark on her life. Despite the Catalonian region’s significant contribution to the country’s revenue, their identity and autonomy remained unrecognized.
Lorena’s desire to preserve the Catalonian heritage and identity burned brightly within her. However, her circumstances had forced her to abandon her dreams of studying law or medicine. Instead, she found solace in history, which became her chosen field of study.
As Lorena delved into the details of history, her perception of Europe and its past was forever altered. The continent’s history, marred by countless wars, left her disillusioned. Her anger and frustration were particularly directed towards Napoleon, whose conquests and invasions had left a trail of devastation.
Lorena’s perspective on greatness was profoundly different from the traditional narratives. She often shared her thoughts with her mother, “Greatness comes not from conquest or domination, but from bringing happiness to others.” This conviction would shape Lorena’s future and influence the path she would choose.
Lorena’s exceptional knowledge of history had made her a standout tour guide at the travel agency. Her vivid explanations and engaging storytelling had earned her rave reviews, making her the go-to guide for high-profile visitors.
The agency informed Lorena that she would be accompanying the Korean President, Byung-Ho, on his upcoming tour of Spain. However, on the scheduled day, Lorena failed to appear. The Prime Minister’s office, expecting her to join the tour, was left embarrassed and scrambling for alternatives.
Lorena’s mother, Lucia, reported that her daughter had left early that morning, but her mobile phone was switched off, and she was untraceable. The government was shocked and concerned by her disappearance, but despite their efforts, Lorena remained elusive.
The news of Lorena’s disappearance eventually reached Interpol, and from there, it landed on Brodie’s desk. Another piece of the puzzle had fallen into place, and Brodie’s instincts told him that Lorena’s disappearance was connected to the larger mystery he was unraveling.
Brodie’s instincts told him that Lorena’s disappearance was connected to the cases of Bharathi from Kanyakumari and Rashina Begum from Pakistan. He sensed a larger pattern at play. With a renewed sense of purpose, Brodie flew to Barcelona, Spain, to investigate Lorena’s disappearance.
Upon arrival, the Prime Minister’s Office provided Brodie with comprehensive information about Lorena. Armed with this knowledge, Brodie visited the travel agency where Lorena worked. He met with Juan, Lorena’s manager, who spoke highly of her exceptional knowledge of history.
Brodie probed deeper, asking Juan if he had noticed any changes in Lorena’s behavior or attitude during her tenure. Juan’s response was affirmative. “Initially, she was preoccupied with the country’s wars and the loss of Catalonian identity. However, over the past four years, I’ve observed a significant transformation. She became happier, and her outlook changed dramatically.”
Brodie’s interest was increased. “What triggered this change?” he asked. Juan’s response was stunning. “She often mentioned that her life changed after meeting a tourist on one of her trips. She would say that encounter had a profound impact on her.”
Brodie’s attention was focused on this revelation. “Tell me more about this tourist,” he urged Juan, sensing that this could be a crucial lead in the investigation.
Juan’s recollection of the event was vivid. “It was a chilly December evening, at the conclusion of a tour of Spain. As the passengers were departing, one of them handed Lorena a generous tip, equivalent to the entire tour amount. Lorena was taken aback by the substantial sum, but the tourist simply walked away without a word.”
Lorena had immediately called out to the tourist, inquiring if the tip had been given in error. The tourist’s response was gracious: “No, it’s not a mistake. It’s a token of appreciation for the wonderful explanations you provided today.” Lorena had expressed her gratitude with a warm “Gracias” and was beaming with happiness. She later shared with Juan that this was the first time she had received such a substantial tip for her knowledge.
Just a few minutes later, the same tourist reappeared, holding out an envelope containing 2000 Euros. “I saw this amount on the road,” the tourist explained. “Someone must have dropped it. I don’t speak Spanish, and I don’t know who the owner is. Perhaps you could donate it to an orphanage? That way, the money can be put to good use.”
Juan’s eyes sparkled with admiration as he recalled the incident. “Lorena and I were astonished by the young tourist’s integrity. Anyone else would have kept the money, but he chose to return it. That spoke volumes about his character. Lorena was deeply impressed, and they exchanged numbers, becoming fast friends. After that day, Lorena underwent a profound transformation.”
Brodie’s eyes narrowed, his mind racing with connections. “Did Lorena learn how to swim?” he asked Juan, his tone measured.
Juan’s expression turned curious. “Yes, she did. Why do you ask?”
Brodie’s response was enthusiastic. “The confirmation is enough for me.” His eyes seemed to hold a deeper understanding, as if he had uncovered a crucial piece of the puzzle.
Brodie’s inquiry about the tourist’s identity was met with a prompt response from Juan. “His name is Charles, a Tamilian from Sri Lanka. I recall it clearly.” A thorough search of the tour records from four years prior confirmed the presence of a tourist named “CHARLES-SRILANKA”.
Brodie swiftly tracked down Charles’ address in Colombo, Sri Lanka. He established communication with the relevant Sri Lankan agencies, gathering vital information to aid his investigation.
As Brodie prepared to depart for Colombo, he methodically checked his briefcase, ensuring that his licensed silencer gun was loaded and ready. This was a precautionary measure, a habitual practice for his safety.
With his preparations complete, Brodie boarded the flight from Barcelona to Colombo, his mind focused on the impending investigation. The pursuit of Charles and the truth behind the mysterious disappearances had reached a critical juncture.
As soon as Brodie arrived at the airport, he made his way to the address he had obtained for Charles. The GPS led him to a secluded area on the outskirts of a village, far removed from the city’s hustle and bustle.
As he approached the location, Brodie was struck by the beauty of the estate. The house was imposing, surrounded by lush greenery and sprawling plantations. The air was thick with the scent of tropical flora, and a silence hung over the property. Brodie’s instincts told him that something was off, and he proceeded with caution, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of life or potential threats.
Brodie’s grip on the silencer gun tightened as he rang the doorbell of the isolated house. The door creaked open, revealing a young woman with a severely acid-burned face. Brodie’s eyes widened in shock, his mind racing with questions.
Brodie’s instincts screamed caution as he stood frozen, his eyes locked on the disfigured woman. The silence was oppressive, heavy with unspoken secrets. Suddenly, the woman’s gaze shifted, and she stepped aside, revealing a dimly lit hallway.
Was this a trap? Was Charles, the Tamilian from Sri Lanka, the mastermind behind the mysterious disappearances? Was he a ruthless gang leader, orchestrating a complex web of events?
The story continues…
Naked Island-Part 7
Colombo, Sri Lanka
As Brodie’s eyes adjusted to the warm glow within the house, he tucked the silencer gun into his pocket of pants. The young lady with the acid-burned face welcomed him with a gentle smile, her eyes sparkling with kindness.
The interior of the house was a testament to simplicity and elegance. Brodie’s gaze wandered, taking in the serene atmosphere, as the young lady asked, “You have come seeking help. What is it that you need? Our home is your home. No one leaves empty-handed from our doorstep, regardless of their origin.”
Brodie’s surprise at the warm reception was evident. He composed himself, his expression turning serious. “I am Brodie from the Scotland Police,” he stated, his voice firm. “I am looking for Charles.”
Yuvani’s warm smile and gentle demeanor put Brodie at ease. “In our Tamil culture, we prioritize hospitality,” she explained. “Our guests are offered a drink first. I’ll bring some tender coconut water, which is plentiful and sweet in our land.”
Brodie was touched by the gracious reception, a first for him in his line of work. As Yuvani stepped into the backyard, Brodie’s gaze wandered around the room. His eyes landed on a family group photo, prominently displayed on a side table.
The photograph depicted five family members: a father, mother, and three children – two girls and a boy. Brodie’s curiosity increased. He wondered if this was Charles’ family, and if so, what role they might play in the mysterious events unfolding around him.
As Brodie sipped the refreshing coconut water, his gaze met Yuvani’s, and he couldn’t help but notice the severe acid burns that had devastated her face. Sensing his gaze, Yuvani began to share her story.
“This house belongs to Charles,” she started. “He lives alone here. I’m a Sinhalese girl, and my life took a drastic turn when a boy, who had been persistently proposing to me, threw acid on my face after I rejected him.”
Yuvani’s voice was laced with a mix of pain and resilience as she continued. “I spent a long time in the hospital, and my family drained their resources to support my treatment. After my parents passed away, I came to this city and found work as a helper at a school.”
She paused, collecting her thoughts before proceeding. “Charles would often visit the school for charitable donations. One summer day, I had to remove my scarf to cool myself, and Charles noticed my acid-scarred face. He approached me, listened to my story, and offered me a new lease on life.”
Yuvani’s eyes sparkled with gratitude. “He asked me to come live in this house, help with the plantations, and sell the produce in the market. Charles lives alone, and though he’s often away, he’s taught me to be brave and proud of who I am.”
She looked at Brodie with a sense of determination. “Charles told me that I don’t need to hide my face anymore. Instead, the boy who threw acid should be the one to hide. Charles has changed me, and I’m forever grateful.”
Yuvani’s expression turned warm and inviting. “Now, Brodie, please tell me how this home can help you. We’re here to assist you in any way we can.”
Brodie’s eyes locked onto Yuvani’s as he asked, “Where is Charles now?”
Yuvani’s response was a matter of fact. “As I mentioned earlier, Charles occasionally visits this house. However, he spends most of his time in Germany, where he pursued his studies.”
Brodie’s gaze wandered around the room, taking in the various mementos on display. His eyes landed on a few trophies and certificates from the University of Munich, proudly showcasing Charles’ achievements as a university topper.
Brodie’s mind was already racing ahead, piecing together the clues. He made a mental note of the University of Munich, his next destination. With a sense of determination, Brodie thanked Yuvani for her warm hospitality.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Yuvani,” Brodie said, his voice sincere. “I appreciate the kindness you’ve shown me.”
With that, Brodie bid Yuvani farewell, his mind already focused on the next leg of his investigation. Brodie was determined to uncover the truth about Charles and his mysterious activities.
Brodie’s journey from Colombo to Germany was a long one, but his determination to uncover the truth about Charles kept him focused. Upon arriving at the University of Munich, Germany he was directed to meet Mistila, the head of the Physics department.
As Brodie introduced himself to Mistila, he explained the purpose of his visit: to gather information about Charles. Mistila’s expression turned thoughtful, and she nodded slowly.
“I’m not surprised that you’re here to ask about Charles,” Mistila said. “He was an exceptional student, one who left a lasting impression on our university community.”
Mistila’s eyes seemed to cloud over, as if memories were rising to the surface. “If I’m to tell you the story of Charles, I must take you to the graveyard,” she said, her voice low and mysterious. “For it was there that his story began.”
Brodie’s curiosity increased. What could Mistila possibly mean? How could a life begin in a graveyard, a place typically associated with death and endings?
Mistila’s words hung in the air like a challenge. “Many lives begin in the womb, but Charles’ life began in the graveyard. We often think of death as an ending, but what if it’s a beginning? A beginning of something new, something unexpected.”
Mistila led Brodie through the winding paths of the graveyard, the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers filling the air. They stopped in front of a weathered headstone, the inscription worn but still legible.
“This is where Charles’ story begins,” Mistila said, her voice barely above a whisper.
What is Charles’s story?
The story continues…
Naked Island-Part 8
Munich-Germany
Mistila’s eyes sparkled with admiration as she continued to share Charles’ story. “Charles pursued his education in Germany, where he excelled in Physics. He went on to earn his doctorate and became a sought-after guest lecturer at workshops worldwide.”
“Charles is a man of few words,” Mistila observed. “He’s quiet, calm, and composed, but when he speaks, his words are like bullets – precise and impactful. He has a unique ability to impress anyone, even in the first meeting.”
Mistila smiled, recalling Charles’ university days. “While his peers spend their weekends socializing, Charles would often be found in the library, reading books. His dedication was inspiring.”
Mistila’s expression turned serious, and she leaned in, her voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. “There’s something you should know about Charles. Every year, on November 8th, he observes ‘Mouna Viratham’ – a day of silence. He fasts and remains silent, lost in memories. No matter what, he never skips this day.”
Mistila’s eyes locked onto Brodie’s, her gaze intense. “That day, he shared his story with me. It’s a story that will help you understand Charles better. Are you ready to hear it?”
Mistila’s voice was filled with a sense of nostalgia as she began to recount Charles’ story. “Charles’ father, Nelson, had migrated from Tamil Nadu, India to Sri Lanka in search of a better life. He started as a humble rubber plantation worker, but through hard work and determination, he eventually owned a vast rubber plantation.”
Mistila’s eyes sparkled with warmth as she described Charles’ childhood. “Charles was the youngest of three children, with two elder sisters. Theirs was a happy family, filled with love and laughter. Charles would return from school and spend hours playing with his sisters in the beautiful garden. During vacations and weekends, the garden would transform into a playground, with children from the village joining in on the fun.”
A gentle smile played on Mistila’s lips as she continued. “Charles’ mother would lovingly prepare meals for all the children, and the aroma of delicious food would flow through the garden. Festivals were a special time for the family, as they would welcome people from all faiths to share in the joy and sweetness of the occasion.”
Mistila’s expression turned sad, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “But, as with all good things, this happy life was not meant to last. Tragedy struck, and Charles’ life was forever changed.”
Mistila’s voice was laced with sorrow as she recounted the tragic events that had shaped Charles’ life. “It was 1983, and Sri Lanka was in the midst of a brutal ethnic war between the Tamilians and the Sinhalese. The country was torn apart, and the world watched in horror as the violence escalated.”
Mistila’s eyes seemed to cloud over, as if the memories were still painful. “On November 8th, a group of uniformed men stormed into Charles’ home, attacking his family. Charles, just a child at the time, was beaten and left for dead in the garden.”
Mistila’s voice cracked as she continued. “When Charles regained consciousness, he found that his right leg was fractured. Despite the pain, he managed to crawl back to his house, only to find his family brutally murdered. His mother and sisters lay naked, their bodies broken and battered. His father too was murdered”
Mistila’s words hung in the air like a challenge. “Charles was consumed by grief and anger. He felt lost and alone, with no reason to live. In a desperate attempt to escape the pain, he jumped into the sea, willing to end his life. But fate had other plans. The sea, it seemed, refused to take him. It threw him back onto the coast, forcing him to confront the harsh reality of his existence.”
Mistila’s voice was filled with a sense of hope as she continued Charles’ story. “A Buddhist monk, who was walking along the coast, stumbled upon Charles lying on the ground. The monk took him to his monastery, where he nursed him back to health.”
Mistila’s eyes seemed to sparkle with a sense of purpose. “The Buddhist monk shared words of wisdom with Charles, saying, ‘I know the sorrow you’re experiencing, but you’re not alone. There are many untold stories like yours on this island. You have a purpose in life, Charles. Find it, and you’ll discover your true destiny. Don’t end your life; instead, become a beacon of light in the darkness.'”
Mistila’s voice took on a sense of calm as she described Charles’ life in the monastery. “Charles stayed with the Buddhist monk, serving him and learning valuable life lessons. Years passed, and the monk decided it was time for Charles to start anew. He arranged for Charles to study in Germany, ensuring he would have a caretaker to support him.”
Mistila’s expression turned thoughtful. “The Buddhist monk’s parting words to Charles were, ‘I’ll take care of your homeland, your home. Go, explore the world, and start anew. Come back whenever you want to see me.’ Charles took those words to heart, studying hard and eventually enrolling in this university to pursue his passion for Physics. He completed his doctorate, and the rest, as they say, is history.”
Mistila’s voice took on a tone of awe as she described Charles’ exceptional brilliance. “He was remarkably intelligent, much like Charles, the son of Velupillai Prabhakaran, LTTE leader who also studied in Germany and designed a revolutionary fighter jet capable of evading radar detection. That jet successfully infiltrated Colombo’s airspace, undetected by military radar.”
Mistila’s eyes seemed to gleam with a sense of pride. “Charles, too, was working on a top-secret project – designing submarines that could evade detection and dive to unprecedented depths. He successfully created submarines that could withstand incredibly high underwater pressure, making their movements virtually untraceable.”
Brodie’s eyes widened as he quickly connected the dots, his mind racing with the implications. The pieces were falling into place, and he was beginning to understand the true extent of Charles’ remarkable abilities.
Mistila’s voice was laced with a sense of melancholy as she concluded her conversation. “We often assume that those laid to rest in this graveyard are at peace, but that’s not always the case. Some carry buried sorrows to their graves, sorrows that are passed down through generations. The world needs to understand this.”
She paused, reflecting on the duality of human innovation. “Penicillin was discovered to save millions of lives, yet the same world created the atomic bomb, leading to unimaginable human tragedy.”
Mistila’s eyes seemed to cloud over, her thoughts turning to Charles. “I’m aware of Charles’ exceptional intelligence. He’s capable of completing complex tasks alone, without assistance. His past, however, was marred by sorrow. I don’t pretend to understand the human mind, but I do know that it’s capable of both incredible wonders and unspeakable atrocities.”
Her voice took on a passive tone, as if she were merely observing the situation. “Charles’ last visit to Germany was three years ago, for a lecture at a workshop. Despite living in a technological age, he still prefers to communicate through letters.”
Mistila’s expression was true, her eyes seeming to hold a deep understanding of Charles’ nature. “I’m not sure whether to wish you good luck in catching Charles or good luck to Charles himself. But the world needs to understand the pain that people like Charles carry with them throughout their lives. I know Charles well; he plans meticulously, executes flawlessly, and his silence is his most potent weapon.”
Brodie’s mind was racing with the implications of Charles’ story. He was now convinced that Charles was planning a catastrophic attack, utilizing his revolutionary submarine design to wreak havoc on unsuspecting coastal cities.
But where was Charles hiding? Which city would be his first target? How many followers had joined his cause? Brodie’s thoughts swirled with questions, each one more pressing than the last.
He knew that Charles was a mastermind, always planning several moves ahead. His submarines were undetectable, capable of diving to unprecedented depths. Charles could be hiding anywhere, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Brodie’s determination hardened into a resolve. He would stop Charles, no matter what it took. But as he pondered his next move, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was in for the challenge of a lifetime.
Who would emerge victoriously? Would Brodie be able to outsmart Charles, or would Charles slip through his fingers? The world held its breath, waiting for the outcome of this deadly game of cat and mouse.
In Singapore, miles away from the unfolding drama, a sense of unease settled over the small apartment shared by Xiang and her family. Xiang, a dedicated physiotherapist, had failed to return home, leaving her loved ones worried and frantic.
Her phone went unanswered, and her usual places yielded no signs of her whereabouts. A creeping sense of fear began to take hold, as Xiang’s family realized that she had vanished without a trace.
Little did they know Xiang’s disappearance was merely the latest thread of events, all leading back to Charles and his sinister plans.
Is Xiang part of Charles’s team?
The story continues…
Naked Island-Part 9
Singapore
Brodie swiftly sprang into action, alerting Interpol and naval authorities worldwide about the potential threat. He shared his intelligence about Charles, the mastermind behind the plot, and his use of undetectable submarines capable of diving to unprecedented depths.
“Be on high alert for any unusual activity near coastal borders,” Brodie urged. “Charles’ submarines can evade radar detection, making them nearly invisible. We must be vigilant and proactive to prevent a catastrophic attack.”
Interpol and naval authorities scrambled to disseminate Brodie’s warning to their respective networks. Coastal surveillance was ramped up, with naval vessels and satellites on high alert for any signs of suspicious activity.
As the world held its breath, Brodie waited anxiously for any updates.
Singapore Navy Head Quarters.
In the dead of night, the Singapore Navy Headquarters received a distress call from the coastal guards. A young woman, Xiang, a Chinese national, had been found lying unconscious on the shores of Singapore. The guards quickly rushed her to the Singapore General Hospital in Outram.
Xiang’s parents had filed a missing person’s report just hours earlier, and the coastal guards’ discovery sparked a flurry of activity. As medical staff attended Xiang, the guards noticed that she was muttering a name in her unconscious state: Charles.
The guards’ curiosity turned into concern as they contacted Interpol, sharing their suspicions about the mysterious circumstances surrounding Xiang’s disappearance and reappearance. Interpol, in turn, immediately alerted Brodie, who had been tracking Charles’ movements.
Brodie’s instincts told him that this was more than just a coincidence. Xiang’s connection to Charles could be the break he needed to unravel the mystery. With his heart racing, Brodie waited for further updates from the hospital, knowing that time was of the essence.
Brodie arrived in Singapore and made his way to the Singapore General Hospital, his mind racing with possibilities. He met with the Singapore Navy Chief, who briefed him on Xiang’s condition.
“The young woman is in critical condition, Brodie,” the chief explained. “She was found on the shores, unconscious, and with severe water inhalation. Our medical team is working to stabilize her, but it’s touch and go.”
Brodie’s eyes narrowed as he took in the information. He knew that Xiang was his only lead to Charles, and he was determined to learn as much as he could from her.
The chief physician approached them, his face grave with concern. “We’re doing everything we can to save her, but it’s going to be a long and difficult recovery. She’s currently in oxygen support, and we’re working to drain the water from her lungs.”
Brodie nodded, his mind racing with questions. What had Xiang seen? What did she know about Charles’ plans? He decided on the spot – he would stay by Xiang’s side, waiting for her to regain consciousness and hoping that she would provide the vital clues he needed to track down Charles.
Meanwhile, inside the ICU, Xiang’s condition had taken a dramatic turn. She began to stir, her eyes fluttering open as she slowly regained consciousness. The medical team breathed a collective sigh of relief.
Brodie, who had been waiting anxiously outside Xiang’s room, sprang into action. He swiftly entered the room, locked the door behind him, and introduced himself to Xiang.
“Xiang, my name is Brodie. I’m here to help you. You’re safe now,” he said gently, his eyes locked onto hers.
Xiang’s gaze was unfocused, but as she looked at Brodie, a flicker of recognition seemed to cross her face. She tried to speak, but her voice was barely audible.
Brodie leaned in closer, his ears straining to catch her words. “What is it, Xiang? What do you want to tell me?”
A sudden commotion erupted outside the hospital gates. A man, his eyes fixed intently on some point ahead, deliberately slashed his wrist with a sharp object. Blood came from the wound as he stumbled towards the hospital entrance.
He walked with an unsteady manner, his movements deliberate. As he pushed through the hospital doors, a trail of blood followed him, leaving a gruesome path on the floor.
A chill ran down the spines of the hospital staff as they rushed to his aid. “Get him to the emergency room, now!” someone shouted.
As the team hurried to attend the injured man, in the chaos, a stunning realization no one knew: the wounded man was none other than Charles, the elusive mastermind Brodie had been desperately searching for.
Xiang’s gaze was unfocused, but as she looked at Brodie, a faint glimmer of recognition seemed to cross her face.
Charles received treatment for his self-inflicted wound. He began to casually inquire about the hospital’s layout, asking the medical staff about the various wards and rooms.
“Excuse me, doctor,” Charles said, his voice low and even. “I’m looking for a friend who was admitted here. Can you tell me which room Xiang is in?”
The doctor, unknown to Charles’ true intentions, responded “Let me check,” he said, tapping away at his computer. “Ah, yes… Xiang is in room 304.”
Charles’ expression remained neutral, but his eyes were excited. He now knew exactly where to find Xiang. And with that knowledge, his plan began to fall into place.
Charles is not aware that Brodie, the Scotland Police chief, is with Xiang.
Is Charles going to fall into the trap?
The story continues…
Naked Island-Part 10
Singapore
Xiang’s eyes locked onto Brodie’s, and with a surprising burst of clarity, she asked, “Have you come to ask about Charles?”
Brodie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He had expected Xiang to be hesitant or evasive, but instead, she had confronted the topic head-on. Her boldness only confirmed Brodie’s suspicions – Xiang was indeed deeply entangled in Charles’ web.
“I’m from Shanghai, China, and I’m a political science student,” Xiang began, her voice steady. “I’ve always been disillusioned with the current state of politics in the world. I moved to Singapore to work as a physiotherapist, seeking a fresh start.
“It was there, at Mount Elizabeth Hospital, that I met Charles. He came in for physiotherapy sessions to treat his damaged right leg, specifically his Achilles tendon. I was assigned to attend to him, and over the course of two weeks, we became friends.
“Charles shared with me the story of how he sustained his injury. He told me that he was brutally beaten by soldiers when he was just a child. As I looked into his eyes, I saw kindness, compassion, and a deep desire to make the world a better place. I was drawn to him, and we became friends.
“Charles asked me to join him on his mission, and I agreed, blindly trusting him. He spoke about creating a new world, free from the corruption and injustices that plague our current system. He was charismatic, open, and frank, and I believed in his vision.
“Charles used a method to communicate with me – artificial birds, which he called ‘Kuyil.’ These birds were equipped with chips that carried encoded messages, and they could navigate to specific locations. It was his discovery, and I was amazed by his work.
“My plan was to meet Charles at his submarine, which would be positioned near the shore. I had to swim to reach it, and Charles had instructed me to train in cold water to adjust myself to the temperature.
“But that night, the weather suddenly changed, and I was unable to reach the submarine. I had only eight hours to make it, and I failed. I ended up here, in this hospital.”
Xiang’s words spilled like a confession, and Brodie listened intently, his mind racing with the implications.
Brodie now says Xiang, “I trust you because the speed at which you explained and I have interrogated many in my career, so I know very well. Ok, now tell me what the plan of attack and which country is going to be attacked first?”
Xiang’s laughter echoed through the hospital room, her eyes shining with tears. “Attack?” she repeated, her voice trembling. “You’re so mistaken, Brodie. Charles isn’t going to attack any country. He’s had enough of wars and bloodshed.”
As Xiang’s laughter subsided, her expression turned serene. “Charles wants to create a new world, a world for the broken and the disillusioned. A place where people can start new, free from the shackles of the past.”
Xiang’s eyes sparkled with intensity. “We’re headed to the ‘Naked Island,’ a place where we can rebuild and restart. Charles has a vision for a better future, and I believe in him.”
Brodie’s expression remained skeptical, his mind racing with questions. What was this “Naked Island” Xiang spoke of? What kind of world was Charles trying to create? And what lay at the heart of his true intentions?
Brodie’s laughter echoed through the hospital room, his eyes with amusement. “Naked Island?”
Xiang’s expression turned serene, her eyes shining with conviction. “Yes, Brodie, it’s an island created by nature itself, a result of the changing climatic conditions on our planet.”
She took a deep breath, her voice filled with passion. “You see, we’re born into this world naked, free from the burdens of society. But as we grow, we’re weighed down by man-made customs, systems, and expectations. The Naked Island is a place where we can shed those artificial layers and return to our natural state.”
Xiang’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “The island will have no governments, no borders, no man-made laws. It will be a place where people can live in harmony with nature, free from the constraints of society.”
Xiang’s continued to describe the Naked Island. “There will be no religions imposed on anyone, although individuals can still hold their personal beliefs. But we recognize that when religion enters the public sphere, conflicts arise.”
“No caste system will exist on our island,” Xiang declared. “We’re all born as human beings, equal and free. The only distinctions will be between male and female.”
“There will be no wars, no weapons, and no violence on our island. We’ll live in harmony, resolving conflicts through dialogue and empathy.”
“The animals on our island will be free, roaming wild,” Xiang continued. “No zoos, no captivity. We’ll coexist with nature, respecting the delicate balance of our ecosystem.”
Xiang’s voice filled with passion. “We’ll have no room for enmity, only love and compassion for one another. No color, no race, no language will divide us. We’ll be a community united in our diversity, living in perfect harmony.”
Xiang’s eyes sparkled. “We want to live on the Naked Island in harmony with nature, just like the Sentinelese people. Undeterred by the trappings of modern society, we’ll live life as it was meant to be – pure, simple, and authentic.”
“Think about it, Brodie. We’ve destroyed the ecosystem in the name of development. We’ve created dictators in the name of democracy. We’ve made rules that only serve the interests of a select few.”
Xiang’s gaze locked onto Brodie’s. “But on the Naked Island, it will be different. There will be no dictators, no rulers, no oppressors. It will be a society of equals, where everyone has a voice and a stake.”
Her voice filled with reverence. “Charles is our revolutionary leader, the visionary who will guide us towards a brighter future. And we’ll follow him, not blindly, but with the knowledge that together, we can create a better world.”
Xiang’s eyes shone with a sense of purpose. “Let the world watch us, Brodie. Let them see how we live in harmony with nature, how we govern ourselves with compassion and wisdom. We’ll set an example, a beacon of hope for a world that’s lost its way.”
Charles made his way slowly to the ground floor room where Xiang was admitted, his eyes scanning the hospital corridor with a mixture of caution and concern. He had managed to slip away from the medical staff, eager to check on Xiang’s condition and ensure that she was safe.
Charles’ actions seemed reckless, even suicidal. By coming to the hospital to retrieve Xiang, he was risking capture and potentially walking into a trap. Brodie, the Scotland Police chief, was already with Xiang, and Charles had no way of knowing that.
But Charles was driven by a fierce loyalty to Xiang and a determination to see his vision for the Naked Island through to its conclusion. He was willing to risk everything to protect Xiang and ensure that their plan remained on track.
As he approached the room, he failed to notice the presence of a stranger – Brodie, the Scotland Police chief, who was sitting beside Xiang’s bed, listening intently to her every word. Charles’ eyes were fixed on the door, his hand reaching out to grasp the handle, unaware of the surprise that awaited him on the other side.
Will Charles be caught in Singapore hospital by Brodie?
The story continues…
Naked Island-Part 11, the Final
Singapore
Charles, disguised in a white apron and mask, knocked on the door to Xiang’s hospital room. Brodie, unsuspecting, walked over to open it. When he saw the “nurse” standing in the doorway, he didn’t think twice.
“I’m here to check on Xiang,” Charles said, his voice through the mask.
Brodie stepped aside, allowing Charles to enter. Xiang’s eyes widened as she saw Charles, and she immediately became tense. Brodie noticed the sudden change in her and felt a slight curiosity.
As Charles began to examine Xiang, he whispered reassuringly, “You’re nervous, but don’t worry. You’re out of danger. Trust me and believe me. Please cooperate, and all will be okay.”
Xiang’s eyes wandered around the room, and Brodie’s suspicions grew. Why was Xiang, who had been so confident and forthcoming during their conversation, now so tense and anxious?
Brodie’s eyes narrowed, and he watched Charles closely.
Charles whispered to Xiang, “Before you rest, I’ll come back to check on you.” With that, he quickly moved out of sight, just as another knock came at the door.
Brodie walked over to open it, revealing a hospital staff member standing in the corridor. “Sir, your dinner is ready. Please come to the first floor,” the staff member said.
Brodie nodded and turned to Xiang. “I’ll go have my dinner and come back to continue our conversation,” he said, his eyes lingering on Xiang’s face, still trying to read her expression.
Brodie walked out of the hospital room; his mind was still preoccupied with the mysterious conversation he had with Xiang. As he made his way to the dinner hall, his phone buzzed with an emergency call from the Prime Minister of Scotland.
“Brodie, I need you back in Scotland immediately,” the Prime Minister’s voice was urgent. “The Deputy Prime Minister has been assassinated by unknown assailants. I need your expertise to lead the investigation.”
Brodie’s expression turned grim as he listened to the news. He quickly finished his dinner, his appetite lost in the face of the shocking news.
As he rushed back to Xiang’s hospital room, he was met with an empty bed. The sheets were disturbed, and the bedside table was bare. Xiang was gone.
Brodie’s eyes scanned the room, his mind racing with questions. How had Xiang escaped? And where was she now?
Brodie’s eyes widened as he picked up the tissue paper with the handwritten note: “Good luck Brodie.” The pieces clicked into place – the masked young man with the slight imbalance, Xiang’s tension when Charles entered the room. It had been a close encounter, and Brodie had just missed catching Charles.
Brodie quickly informed the Singapore police to be on the lookout for Charles and Xiang. Meanwhile, the two were swimming together, their strokes synchronized as they made their way to the submarine.
As they climbed aboard and the hatch closed behind them, Xiang turned to Charles with a questioning gaze. “Why did you risk yourself coming for me? You could have left me behind.”
Charles smiled, his eyes shining. “Jesus didn’t worry about the 99 sheep that came home, but he was concerned about the one sheep that lost its way. That’s what I’m demonstrating – my love for all those who follow me. I’m not a leader of the past or present; I’m the leader of the future.”
Xiang’s eyes welled up with tears as she hugged Charles tightly. The submarine moved forward, propelling them toward their destination – the Naked Island.
Brodie flies back to Scotland. As the plane soared through the skies, Brodie sat awake, his mind replaying the events of the investigation. The other passengers around him had succumbed to sleep, but Brodie’s eyes remained wide open, his thoughts consumed by Charles.
He couldn’t help but feel a sense of admiration for Charles, who had channeled his pain and personal loss into a positive force. Instead of seeking revenge, Charles had chosen to reform the world in his own unique way. And remarkably, people were drawn to him voluntarily, without coercion.
Brodie’s gaze wandered to the passenger seated next to him, who was engrossed in a book. The title, “Kuyil Pattu” [Song of Kuyil], caught Brodie’s attention. It was a collection of poems by the renowned Indian poet, Subramania Bharathi.
The coincidence struck Brodie as curious. Kuyil, the artificial bird created by Charles, had been a crucial part of their communication. And now, here was someone reading a book with the same name. Brodie’s mind began to spin with connections and possibilities, his thoughts fueled by coincidence.
As Brodie stepped out of the airport, he was greeted by a team of Scotland police officers, who escorted him to his home. The familiar surroundings and warm glow of the house lights should have brought him comfort, but instead, a sense of fear settled in his stomach.
As he entered the house, his wife rushed to him, her face with worry and fear. “Brodie, our children didn’t come home from college today,” she exclaimed, her voice trembling. “They’re missing, and I’m scared.”
Brodie’s heart sank, and his mind racing with worst-case scenarios.
“Welcome to the Naked Island.”
Epilogue:
The Naked Island, a secret haven, had been Charles’ vision since 2019, when he was a physics student in Germany. Over the years, he had traveled the world, meeting like-minded individuals who shared his dream of a new society.
Today, the island was home to many Abdullahs, Bharathis, Rashinas, Lorenas, and Xiangs, all living in harmony with nature and each other. Though their parents missed them, they understood that their children had embarked on a new journey, one that promised a brighter future.
As the island’s residents began their new life, they were reminded of the story of Adam and Eve, who had started new with nothing. Similarly, the inhabitants of the Naked Island were determined to build a new world, free from the burdens of the past.
Meanwhile, in Colombo, Sri Lanka, Yuvani had taken over the family home and converted it into a hospital, using the income from the plantations to provide free medical care to all patients in the island nation.
As the news of the Naked Island spread, a strange phenomenon was observed worldwide. Enrolments in swimming classes skyrocketed, with people of all ages signing up to learn the skill. Many were even building swimming pools in their backyards, as if preparing for a new era of aquatic exploration.
Behind the Story:
I would like to extend my heartfelt gratitude to my lovely family – my wife, son, and daughter – for their invaluable feedback on every part of this series. They were the first to read each installment, and their input was instrumental in shaping the narrative.
Initially, Charles was conceived as an “invisible character.” However, based on my family’s suggestions, I revised the story to bring Charles to life as a dynamic and relatable character. The result was well worth the effort.
The underlying theme of this story is “World Peace.” As temporary inhabitants of this planet, I firmly believe that we should strive to coexist in harmony, spreading love and kindness wherever we go. This story is my humble contribution to the pursuit of global peace and a plea to abandon the devastating path of war.
The creation of this story spanned eight months, and I am thrilled to finally share it with the world. I am deeply grateful for the time taken by readers to engage with this narrative and for the thoughtful review comments that have been shared.
To my readers, I extend my sincerest appreciation for your support. I kindly request that you share this story with your networks, allowing its message of peace and love to spread far and wide.
Love-Muthu.
Disclaimer
This blog is a personal publication, and the views and opinions expressed herein are solely those of the blog owner. The story presented on this blog is entirely fictional. All characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination.
Disclaimer of Liability
Any resemblance to actual people, living or deceased, or actual events is purely coincidental. This blog does not intend to harm, malign, or defame any individual or group. By reading this blog, you acknowledge that:
- You understand that the content is fictional and not based on real events or individuals.
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Note: The images given for representation in this blog are taken from Unsplash images, Google & AI. Many thanks. Special thanks to Meta AI for editorial support.
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