The mission

The dry heat is unbearable and anyone who planned to do anything
today has long since abandoned any chance until sun sets. The streets
are strewn with people sleeping; in every inch of shade there are
bodies. I can see children playing in the open doorways to the huts.
The stench is so bad I suspect some of the bodies really could be just
that, but then this part of town always smells of putrefaction. When
the air is the same temperature out side your body as in, it is hard to
feel your breath, and you think maybe you have stopped. At least the
smell seeping in convinces me the air is still there.

As I walk down the street a few stray dogs drag themselves off their
haunches and follow me lazily. The lure of any food I may have
outweighing the heat, but only for a moment. Then their protruding
bones collapse under them and they flop down again, panting away the
effort.

The sweat is running down my arm, my shirt is soaked, no one here
notices or cares about that. Compared to the people here, even soaked
in sweat, I am the best dressed man in the neighbourhood.

I want desperately to stop and hide in the shade but I must carry on;
this lull in activity at noon is exactly why my organisation chose now
to carry out my mission. Later in the day the crowds will be
overbearing and there is too much danger of interference.

As I approach the cross roads I glance around me, no one is taking much
notice of me, which is a testimony to the heat's distractive power. A
lone, pale man, in the slums with a briefcase and good smart shoes,
would normally generate crowds here. This is a community without doors;
everything in life is public property, everything is worthy of comment,
of opinion. As people get richer they isolate more. I wonder if the
people living five to a hut (or more) crave time alone or if it is so
normal they would feel panicky without that mass of bodies surrounding
them. No time to stop and ask now.

I stop in the middle of the road and spin slowly through a full turn.
There is a gap in between two shacks which is large enough to slide the
case, but it might affect the trajectory. I am going to have to risk
leaving it further out in the open, even if this means it being
disturbed early. The worst scenario is that someone should steal the
case and move it. That would change the outcome of the exercise. I
place it down and find a small boy to guard it. He is sleepy when I
approach him but wakes up completely as soon as he sees I have money.
Here money will always buy enthusiasm. He runs along side me putting a
little skip in every few steps. His brittle thin legs seem to possess
energy beyond their strength and it bursts out without his control. I
give him some coins and tell him to not let anyone near the case or
move it. I sit him back 10 paces from it and, as he has no watch, and
can't count, I tell him to name all the members of his family twice and
by the time he finishes I will be back. I hope he has a very large
family. I don't like to lie to him, but as I look at his malnourished
body I feel in my heart that this is for the best. I am doing him a
kindness he will never be able to thank me for.

As I walk away a cow ambles past me and wanders towards the boy. He
flicks her with a stick and shouts. My heart stops, I can't bear the
tension, I have to get away before the case is disturbed or it will be
too late. I break into a jog, glancing over my shoulder every few
steps. Now I am attracting too much attention. No man should run in
temperatures like these, heads raise at the noise. The heat and the
fear are making me feel faint. As I round the corner I see a tea stall
with a curtained area. I duck behind the dirty rag hanging in the
doorway and dive hard right into a small room where some men are
smoking opium. Perfect, they won't recognise me later or care what I
have done.

The timing is perfect, for at the moment the cow nudges the case with
her nose and it topples over and explodes open. I hear crashes and
shouting and as everyone pours out of their homes to see what the
commotion is all about. I use the diversion to slip away and return to
my hotel.

Later in my clean, safe hotel sanitised, room I wait for the news
announcer to mention it. It is the first story up. "Today in a crowded
area in downtown Delhi a bomb was let off." We had hoped for publicity
like this, my organisation needs it if we are to make an impact. The
news anchor continues," An organised group known as ABC, have claimed
responsibility. The police and the army are not looking for leads but
say they hope that ABC also known as Antidote Bombing Campaign, will
continue. No one was harmed as the unusual missile was projected into
the air before exploding, showering downtown with paper money.

Perfect; we have cracked it, a military campaign of kindness.