Thread: The Revolutionary Romance [AnjelRocker x Wander]

That is your sole duty, my brother. You must kill Francis Hume. He is our primary target. If you have to die in the attempt, then you will be a true Shaheed Martyr. The young man that stood in front of the older one appeared proud of having bestowed such honour as he was now being bestowed. His orders were quite simple He had to kill General Hume and it had to be in a public place, in front of his army as well as the oppressed people of India. Moreover, while he was expendable, it was imperative that he escape in order to display to the British Empire how helpless they are. It will be done. He assured, twirling the end of his thick black moustache as he pinched it between his finger and thumb and twisted it. When he had released the hair upon his upper lip, it had proudly curled upwards at both ends from repeated pinching. This prostrate moustache was the proud sign of Indian masculinity and displayed the honourable demeanour of Raja Ram Rathod. Upon his horse rode the revolutionary, making his way towards the assigned duty for which Raja Ram Rathod was chosen. Nobody would recognise him in this new visage and demeanour. No longer was he the thickly bearded, rugged, dhoti wearing renegade wanted by the British Empire. He would be the man who would lay the most massive blow the Imperial Empire of the white folk had ever witnessed. He rode a horse for he did not trust these new contraptions called Cars that the white men had brought into his beloved nation. He would be sure to discard them when he had freed the nation of the oppressive foreigners as well as Gandhis idiotic pacifist regime. What a fool that old bald man was. The ride was a tough one, the horses thick black fur glistened under the bright radiance of the eternal golden disk that had bestowed its heat so generously upon this nation. Within the streets of Mumbai, it was more so, for the humidity was absolutely intense. Beads of sweat formed upon his forehead and it trickled down the deep brown hue of his skin, hanging loosely off the well defined cheek bone and dripping down from it. The deep black eyes possessed no other hue in them and were akin to that of a toad, and yet had the distinct Indian mark of their size proportionately larger than the rest of the facial features for Rathod, or we may call him Shyam Singh for that was the pseudonym he had adopted for this ordeal. The rounded nose and thin line for lips gave him a peculiar masculine appearance, enhancing the long jaw and chin whereas the visibly circular depression created a crater right in the middle of his chin. He may not have been tall, but Rathod was a very strong man and this was quite evident from his formidable arms and torso for he may not be sinewy with a chiselled abdomen, but possessed the formidable ursine appearance. Rathod realised he was late and if he did not push the horse to move quickly, he would be very late in reaching the dock in time for the gora White man to arrive and for him Rathod to welcome the fiend and his wife and escort them home in that abhorrent machine called the car they carried along with themselves on the ship. Hail, Agro! He ordered the horse, imploring it to move faster. The horse complied and the pace at which they were moving had caused the Indian revolutionary to hold the hat which was upon his head from flying off the thick black mop of hair upon his head which was straight, short and neatly combed. The tie flew outwards, under the pressure of the wind, from the suit which he had worn especially to please the gora for it was imperative hat the General trust him completely in order that the plan may be undertaken to perfection. He expected no interference if the plan were to run smoothly. It was not long before Rathod had arrived at the dock only to realise he had reached before time. He disembarked his steed, giving it a small affectionate pat for its efficiency. He fed the kind beast on a bunch of oats and then stood there, in the light of the sun. In the distance, he could hear the blaring of the sound of the ship arriving and his lips curled into a grin. He was ready for this. Even as the ship approached closer, his pride grew larger. Rathod could not believe it. This was going to be his destiny. This was when his nation could earn its freedom from oppression if he could deal enough damage to shake the Imperial throne into reconsidering their stronghold where they ought not to stay. He would be the reason for a new India and he was sure of that, and.... Proud.