From the Claws of the Tiger

The war had been going on even before I was born. It was not a war of bloodshed, but rather a political one. But only a month ago had it finished and the ones who I called "The Villains" were crowned the new rulers of India – and later perhaps the entire world.

It was a surprise when they were called the victors. As far as I had known everyone else had also hated them. There was something very alien about our new rulers, something completely malicious. But I had just shrugged in response thinking "What was the worse that they could do?"

The rumors started about 2 week from the crowning. Hundreds of people all over the nation – dead. The only thing left behind was the blood and the half eaten flesh. Nobody knew what exactly was happening. Within a week, thousands of people men, women and children were all dead. That was when our new leader's speech plagued all our TVs. He told with a smile on this face that he was the one responsible for all their deaths.

He claimed that those people had no right to live as they were just useless pests deteriorating our nation. He explained how he locked such people in their houses and then releases a hungry tiger into the abode.

"There are no second options," he had said, grinning maniacally, "What I decided is final." It was a clear message. If he had decided that weren't worth living, we had no option but to have our flesh be torn apart by the starving carnivore. The deaths didn't stop.

Any minister who stoop up against he ruler ended up dead with his entire clan and anyone even remotely related to him, slaughtered.

"Any news Sukhram Chacha?" My mother asked. Our house servant, an old man named Sukhram, shook his head. I could see his eyes welling up with tears. I couldn't even bear to image how it must be for him. On the TV was news regarding how this time's target list was a village named Kua – Sukhram's hometown. At the moment it was unclear that whether or not his family back home had survived.

Even though all of us knew the answer, we couldn't help but try one last time. Then on the TV, the anchor started to call out the names of the survivors. The TV anchor looked straight in the camera and said,
"Anshul Rakesh Shukla, Prathamesh Rakesh Shukla, Gauri Tushar Oak, Isha Praveen Gupta, Sumitra Raji and Vinamraa Ashessh Takkar."

Sukharm Chacha slid down onto the floor and started sobbing. No one from his family had survived. Over his pained howls I could barely hear the anchor repeating, "these are the only 6 survivors and the rest 325 people were confirmed dead." Gritting my teeth, I shut down the TV . The black screen then showed my angry reflection and in the background , my parents who were comforting Sukram chacha.

"Is this it", I demanded, "we just sit here and do nothing while they – "

"We can't do anything" my father said, "You saw what happened to those people who stood up."

"We are going to die anyways," I retorted, "we might as well die trying to save this world!"

Everyone was silent, even Sukhram Chacha's sobs stopped. The air was thick with tension. "No"

All of us looked to my mother. "No," she repeated, "we are not going to die." Even though she said "we", her every were solely focused on me.

"What else can we do?" my father asked. Then his eyes widened, "Running away?!" My mother nodded solemnly. "There is no other option."

That was true. We had no other option, it was either run or die. "Where will we go?" I asked. "Someplace like Kua or such," Father supplied, "a place that has already been attacked and defeated." It would be difficult, no doubt. But at least we had something to aim for.

"You are coming with us Sukhram Chacha," Mother stated. "I am not taking no for an answer." Sukhram chacha just nodded, his eyes glistening again.

"When do we leave?" I questioned. My parents looked at each other as if having a silent discussion.

"Tomorrow."