The Vivekean Times

Wow, this is cool! Here's free and instant access to the Initial 3 Chapters of Indians in Pakistan - This format is very easy on the eyes - Just click the Read First Chapter Free button below the book's image at http://www.shelfari.com/books/37956227/Indians-in-Pakistan Quotes from the book “All this simply shows us that communalism and terrorism are nothing but opposite sides of the same coin. They keep feeding on each other in a vicious cycle, resulting in a society full of violence, hatred, sorrow and intolerance. Every communal act is used as a justification for mindless acts of terrorism . Similarly , each act of terrorism is used as a justification for such horrible atrocities like genocide and ethnic cleansing. And, it is always the innocent who get killed. This is the sad truth.” Narrator (Zameer) “‘Now relax and enjoy as much as you can. After we reach the camp, there will be no time for relaxation and enjoyment.’” Lieutenant Ashraf “‘We love Kashm...

(An Extract from Indians in Pakistan, the Action Thriller on terrorism) ‘It was all my fault,’ I said frankly. ‘I was blind then but now I see the truth. You were right and I was wrong.’ ‘Mother would have been happy to see you,’ he told me, sadly.  ‘Too bad she’s not around.’ ‘Wh - where is she?’ I asked, looking around frantically for her. ‘It’s too late,’ he said. ‘She’s no longer in this world.’ ‘Mother, mother,’ I continued, not heeding him. ‘Mother where are you?’ ‘She’s dead, dear brother. She’s in heaven now.’ ‘No, it cannot be. She cannot die! I need to tell her how much I love her. I need to tell her how sorry I am for walking away. I wanted to introduce her to Najma, my wife. I wanted to - ’ Words failed me at that moment and I sank to my knees. There were plenty of kind words from everyone around but there was nothing that could console me – not even the beautiful hands of Najma wrapped around my neck. I was truly inconsolable. Visit the Fan Page of this exciting nov...

(An Extract from Indians in Pakistan, the Action Thriller on terrorism) ‘It was all my fault,’ I said frankly. ‘I was blind then but now I see the truth. You were right and I was wrong.’ ‘Mother would have been happy to see you,’ he told me, sadly.  ‘Too bad she’s not around.’ ‘Wh - where is she?’ I asked, looking around frantically for her. ‘It’s too late,’ he said. ‘She’s no longer in this world.’ ‘Mother, mother,’ I continued, not heeding him. ‘Mother where are you?’ ‘She’s dead, dear brother. She’s in heaven now.’ ‘No, it cannot be. She cannot die! I need to tell her how much I love her. I need to tell her how sorry I am for walking away. I wanted to introduce her to Najma, my wife. I wanted to - ’ Words failed me at that moment and I sank to my knees. There were plenty of kind words from everyone around but there was nothing that could console me – not even the beautiful hands of Najma wrapped around my neck. I was truly inconsolable. Visit the Fan Page of this exciting nov...

We were not discernibly different from the other passengers on Flight PK-269. We spoke Urdu fluently just like most of them. We wore kurtas just like many of the other male passengers. There was nothing in our physical appearance that gave us away either. But we were different - we were Indians in Pakistan. Irfan, my companion, was getting quite restless on the flight. He kept staring around at the other passengers in an extremely suspicious manner. I cursed my luck. The last person I wanted seated besides me right now was a jerk like Irfan. He kept having doubts, and I simply hated those who had doubts. We were doing this for our religion - and for the whole of mankind. When the whole world looked through our eyes then there would be nothing but peace. But till such time, there had to be some violence. It was early March. It had been nearly a week since we left our homes in Lucknow for this jihadi mission. We had sneaked across the border into Nepal before boarding...

http://www.amazon.com/Indians-Pakistan-Vivek-Pereira-ebook/dp/B00N0WYM5O http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/471144

We were not discernib ly different from the other passengers on Flight PK-269. We spoke Urdu fluently just like most of them. We wore kurtas just like many of the other male passengers. There was nothing in our physical appearance that gave us away either. But we were different - we were Indians in Pakistan. Irfan, my companion, was getting quite restless on the flight. He kept staring around at the other passengers in an extremely suspicious manner. I cursed my luck. The last person I wanted seated besides me right now was a jerk like Irfan. He kept having doubts, and I simply hated those who had doubts. We were doing this for our religion - and for the whole of mankind. When the whole world looked through our eyes then there would be nothing but peace. But till such time, there had to be some violence. It was early March. It had been nearly a week since we left our homes in Lucknow for this jihadi mission. We had sneaked across the border into Nepal before boarding the PIA flight...