At first glance he seemed to be a friendly sort but there was something about him that told me there was a steel  within-icy cold steel lurking behind his grey eyes,in the resolute thrust of his chin that he nuzzled within his muffler.

"This man is not simple as he looks ,their is something erking about him "solilioquize Amit.

Amit a young lad in his teen was innocent ,gullible and inquistive.His dream was to become a CBI officer and his gleamed with scintillating ambition.He always spent his spare time in solving criminal puzzles.The story hits the incident of an account that astounded him and accoladed his courage,an encounter with a stranger.

Try as I might ,I could not tear my eyes away from his smiling face .He was listening to my father with great attention when my mother offered him a plate of sweets.He smiled at my mother as he took a small piece from the plate,I felt fascinated by his pale tapering fingers-definitely those of an artist;thin,soft and sensitive.I could visualize him giving life to an empty canvas,filling it with subdued shades-soft pinks,fluroscent,and lavender.Some how it was difficult to associate  him with flashy reds,greens or yellows.

He seemed as placid as a lake ,at peace with himself;yet ,there was something about his sinister smile that made me restless!

The man was a stranger to the circle of friends and diplomats that thronged the grand party going on in my house.My father had got promoted to CEO of the Origano company.There were garlands galore.Soft drinks ,sweets and samosas made their rounds,the guards were busy at the gate,seeing to the number of well-wishers.Among them came the dignified looking man smiling genially at one of the guards,who let him in through the side gate.He came in with folded hands and congratulated my father.My father thanked him but there was a perplexed look on his face as though trying to recollect a bygone friendship.One of my father's friends introduced me to him."This is Amit,Aggarwalji's son.He's appearing for his Boards this year and wants to go into CBI."Oh! A detective in the making!"sighed the man in the baritone.His voice reminded me of the deep rumble of a distant thunder.He shook my hand affably.I felt recoiling from the touch.Mumbling a hurried "Thank You",I withdrew my hand in haste .He looked at me with a sudden flicker of surprise.Our eyes looked for a second."Amit,Uncle Bakshi wants to talk to you."wafted across my sister's voice.I walked away from him ,my face red with embarrasment;my heart filled with unease.

Uncle Bakshi,the childhood friend of my father was the right person to talk to."Chachu,you see that man in the white sherwani and black jacket?I began."Yes,what about him ,son?"uncle asked absent mindedly."Do you know him?"I asked grabbing his shirt sleeve for attention."Not so well"replied my uncle,looking at me sharply.I was introduced to him a little while ago.He's a scholar,Written a number of books.He's a painter too".I kept silent."Why do you ask?"quizzed uncle.Oh!Just like that.I don't know"I muttered and hung my head.

"What's it son?" persisted my uncle."You look worried! I don't like him!"

I said with sudden vehemence." He looks as though a masquerading something .He smiles too much but his eyes are cold !"I said feeling quite foolish."Reading too many detective stories of late?" bantered my uncle with a smile."This is a serious matter! Believe me, Uncle". I said ,stamping my foot in desperation."All Right".he said patting me but a thoughtful look came across his face as he hurriedly walked towards the gate.

Uncle Bakshi,the Ex-commissioner of Police now looked every inch like the alert guardian of law,when he used to be in his office scrutinizing everything.With a sigh of relief,I turned my gaze to the spot where I had seen the man standing idly sipping a cool drink.I broke into a cold sweat.My throat went dry,the man was nowhere to be seen!I started running through the crowd .I got a glimpse of his jacket,as he moved swiftly and determinedly towards the circle of diplomats.I was frantic by this time.I wanted to stop him before he reached my father.Then I stumbled on a jutting foot of of a shrub and lost my balance .My head struck against something hard.It took me a moment to realize that I had plunged headlong into the chest of the man and both of us were lying sprawled on the floor.Gasping I tried to sit up and started right into the icy grey eye.But this time there was fire in them,the unmistakable glint of suppressed fury.He lay on the ground ,his right hand pinned under him in an awkward angle,someone had caught hold of his other hand.I could see the end of a metallic object thrusting from his side pocket.Instinctively,I ripped open his coat.I couldn't believe my eyes! A set of green and red tiny bulbs blinked at me  from a jungle of tiny wires."Uncle Bakshi". I shouted even as the security closed around us.

    "You beat me to it!" came the baritone ,even as the man tried to move his right hand."You will make a good officer",he said as he was being taken into the custody.

I was still in a daze as I watched the guards take way the suave ,gentle suicide bomber.I looked at the thin ,soft ,sensitive fingers meant to create beauty.

What!What on earth made them go for triggers!

You get a life once so make the worst out of it ,rather than succumbing to the false habits.In this world terroism is spreading like a fire.Its tentacles are encroaching upon many nations and these forces are brainwashing youth.Instead of channelizing their energy into right direction they are getting deflected,and what is happening is "Terroism".