15/12/2025
# # # # # Fighting for Freedom # # # # #
_______ Welcome to Hell _______
Just before a week Salim was locked up in a Prison of an Islamic Country with Military Dictatorship!
During the morning working hours, oneday Salim entered the prison bathroom to relieve himself. Suddenly, three prisoners burst out from the next room. They grabbed him roughly. Two strong, scary men started punching him hard in the face and stomach. Salim tried to fight back, swinging his fists, but he could not win against them. They pushed him against the cold wall and held him tight. Then they pulled his prison pants down.
The third man opened his own pants and said in a mean voice, "You are new here. No one escapes me in this prison without good connections. But you have nothing. You will be my s*x slave now. Enjoy it!"
Salim understood in horror what was coming. He twisted and shouted, struggling hard, but the two men held him still. He screamed in fear and shame, the sound bouncing off the walls.
Suddenly, the door flew open. A tall, muscular prisoner with a thick beard and scarred face rushed in. His ears looked damaged, like a boxer's. He attacked the three men fast and strong, punching and kicking like an expert fighter. They pulled out screwdrivers, but he disarmed them quickly and beat them until they ran away, bleeding and cursing.
Salim, breathing hard, pulled up his pants. He looked at his savior with tears in his eyes.
"This time I saved you," the man said firmly. "But I won't always be there to help. Unless you fight back, no one can save you—not even Allah, the All-Merciful."
Salim wiped tears from his eyes and thanked him profusely. As they left the bathroom, the man introduced himself. "I am Rehan. I was a kickboxer once, until I started murdering people for money and ended up imprisoned here. What did you do?"
Salim explained quietly. "My wife was cheating on me. I got angry and pushed her down the stairs. She fell, hitting her head several times, and died. Then I killed her lover too. I really didn't want to kill her—I still love her. But my uncontrollable anger and rage took over. I surrendered myself to the authorities."
He added that his sentence was fifty years. By the time he might get out, if ever, he would be an old, weak man. Rehan exhaled deeply. "Still good. I am here for life. But there is a way we can get out early. It's a secret, but I will tell you. Those men who tried to r**e you—they are bis*xual maniacs, very dangerous. They will try again."
Back in the factory, working side by side at their machines, Rehan whispered the secret. "There is an underground fighting tournament held secretly in our prison. Sometimes other prisoners from other Prisons of our country also come here to fight! Fighters are locked in a special room equipped with cameras, mics, soundboxes, two doors, and a giant one-sided mirror. Prisoners who volunteer must win six matches against others in that room. The bloody fights are recorded and uploaded to the dark web, where people worldwide watch online, bet money, and win prizes. The dark web is a hidden part of the internet used for illegal activities, like drug selling.
"It's completely illegal and secret. To win a fight, you must make your opponent unconscious—or kill him. It's said that anyone who wins six matches will be set free. But strangely, no one has won the sixth round yet. I have fought and won four matches so far. Had to kill two fighters and knocked out the other two! The rank of the looser declines and the winner ascends the Ranking list! The loosers if survive, can participate again next week! Many matches are organised every week! I had been undefeated till now! I hope to win and get free."
Salim listened with growing interest, his voice sad. "But I don't know how to fight. I really need to get out of this prison. My little son was sent to an orphanage after my arrest. I want to get out! Please help me."
Rehan glanced around to ensure no guards were listening, then replied while tightening a screw. "Before evening, during playtime, some of us fighter prisoners practice martial arts together. You can join us. I will teach you how to fight. But don't hurry to join the tournament. You need to practice hard for many weeks. It's not like a boxing match—it's a fight for freedom. Decide carefully."
When work ended that day, Salim approached Rehan with newfound confidence. "Okay! I will fight for freedom. Please teach me martial arts."
Rehan smiled broadly. "Then, welcome to hell, Bhaijaan!"
From that day forward, Salim began training under Rehan during the prisoners' playtime. While most inmates played football or cricket on the small prison ground, Salim joined Rehan and three other fighters in a quiet corner. They practiced martial arts intensely—regular push-ups, sit-ups, and squats to build strength, followed by sparring sessions with each other.
The three maniacs who had attacked Salim watched him from afar with lustful, threatening eyes. Salim knew that only by mastering fighting skills with Rehan could he protect himself from future assaults.
Rehan quickly noticed Salim's rapid progress. Salim had a lean, muscular build, and his skills improved day by day. The other three trainees were amazed at how swiftly Salim began winning against them in practice bouts. Curious, they asked if he had fought before prison.
Salim explained, "I learned fighting when I was in school. But when I started my corporate job, I had no time to practice anymore. Now, I am enjoying it very much."
One evening, after Salim landed a series of punches followed by a powerful sidekick that sent even Rehan tumbling to the ground, Rehan praised him proudly. "You are really the best fighter I have ever trained, Bhaijaan!"
They continued training daily, pushing each other to improve their fighting skills, determined to survive and perhaps one day earn their freedom in the brutal underground arena.
________ The Secret Plan _______
Rehan walked into the large fighting hall, followed by a prison guard. The guard talked the whole way and stopped at the door. Before closing it from outside, he said, "All the best! This is your fifth match. You won the first four with great skills. But if you win today, next week you will face the Djinn. That fighter is called Djinn because he has won more than fifty fights. He does not want freedom. He only wants to fight. No one has survived the sixth match because of him. If you die today, it will be quicker and less painful. The Djinn kills slowly and causes great pain. Sometimes he even eats the flesh of his opponents. All the best!"
The hall was bright and empty except for the fighting area in the center. Many cameras hung on the walls, watching every move. On one wall, there was a big one-sided mirror. Behind it, the people who ran these illegal fights were surely sitting and watching.
From the opposite door, a tall, muscular man entered. The door locked behind him with a loud click. Rehan's heart sank. This man was one of the eight fighters he and his friend Salim used to practice with every day.
Rehan breathed out slowly and said, "I know you will not go easy on me, and I will fight with all my strength too. But at least we will not kill each other, right?"
The man looked sad but firm. "I need to get free. My Ammi is old and lives alone in the city. I know I cannot just knock you out without real danger, and I do not want to fight you like this again. Sorry, but it has to be a death fight."
Suddenly, a loud voice came from the sound box on the wall: "Fight!"
The two men moved toward each other quickly. The fight began with heavy punches and fast kicks. Rehan blocked many strikes, but soon a strong sidekick hit his belly. Blood came from his mouth. He coughed but did not fall.
Rehan answered fast. He blocked the next punches and hit back from different angles. His fists landed on the man's face and body. "Show me what I have taught you!" Rehan shouted. He spun and kicked hard at the man's head.
The kick connected. The man's head snapped back, and he started to fall. But he caught his balance at the last moment. With an angry scream, he jumped forward. His punches flew at Rehan's face. His powerful legs kicked again and again.
Blood ran from both men's noses and mouths. Their shirts were torn and wet with sweat and blood. Still, neither man went down. They kept standing, breathing hard.
Five minutes passed. The punches and kicks grew even stronger and more dangerous. Every strike carried the weight of freedom. One man wanted to see his old mother again. The other wanted to live long enough to face the terrible Djinn and maybe win his own freedom at last.
The hall echoed with the sounds of heavy breathing, painful grunts, and the smack of fists on skin. Behind the mirror and through the cameras, unseen eyes watched the bloody fight for life.
On the other side of the prison, an electrician arrived at the main gate. Two prison guards walked with him. The electrical system inside the prison had been causing problems, and he was called to fix it. The guards knew him well because he had come many times before to check the circuits. Even the warden recognized his face. Still, the guards searched him and his bags full of tools and instruments carefully before letting him enter.
The prison used high technology. All cell doors opened and closed with electric signals sent from a control room in a small building just inside the high, strong prison gate. The electrician walked through the long corridors with guards watching him closely. He checked every switchboard one by one. He opened panels, tested wires, and noted readings on a small notebook.
Finally, he reached the large electrical machine room where prisoners worked in a small factory. He examined the main motherboard there. He turned to the guards and said, “Here is the problem. Some prisoners must have damaged this circuit during their working hours. You should keep a careful eye on the workers from now on.” The guards nodded seriously and made notes.
After that, the electrician moved to the main circuit board of the entire prison. It was in a locked room near the control area. The guards stood outside while he worked inside. Quietly, without letting anyone see, he connected a small Arduino board to the main wires. The Arduino looked like any other electronic part. When the guards had checked his bag earlier, they saw many Arduino boards and tools, but no one recognized this one as a special hacking device. They trusted his familiar face after years of visits, so they suspected nothing.
He finished his work, closed all panels neatly, and told the guards everything was fixed. They checked him and his bags again at the gate before letting him leave the prison boundary.
Outside, the electrician walked quickly to his motorbike parked on a side road. He started the engine and rode away. He took different roads, turning left and right many times. He kept looking in his mirror and all around to make sure no one was following him. Only when he felt safe did he head toward a small two-storey building not far from the prison.
He parked his bike in the ground-floor parking area and entered the building. He climbed the stairs to the upper floor. Inside a room, a man stood holding a rifle near the window. A woman sat at a table covered with many electronic instruments, typing fast on her laptop.
“The job is done,” the electrician said. He reached up and slowly pulled off his realistic rubber mask. His real face appeared—different from the one the prison guards knew.
The man with the rifle smiled and handed him a pistol. The fake electrician and the rifle man walked into another room. There, tied tightly to a chair, sat the real electrician—the one known to the guards for years. His mouth was covered with cloth, and his eyes were wide with fear.
The fake electrician held up the rubber mask and showed it to the real one. “Thanks for letting us scan and map your face perfectly. Look how good this mask is. I wore it and entered the prison without any problem. I finished the secret job. Sadly, we have no more use for you now. Sorry.”
The real electrician tried to scream through the cloth and tears ran down his face. The man with the pistol pointed it at his head and fired once. The real electrician slumped forward, dead.
The woman from the laptop room came in. She looked at the body and said, “Well done. I have already hacked into the prison control room. The Arduino you planted is working perfectly. Now we only need the exact date when our target will enter the prison. Any news from our agent inside?”
One of the men answered, “I hope he is safe. He did his part well—he damaged the factory circuit so that we had a reason to send Raja in.”
Raja holding the pistol looked at Rohit, holding the rifle! All three smiled with satisfaction. The woman named Pramita, a master hacker, pointed toward the bathroom and said, “Now we must get rid of the dead body. The drum full of acid is ready in the bathroom. Finish the job.”
“Yes, boss,” the two men replied together. They untied the dead body from the chair and lifted it. They carried it carefully toward the bathroom. Their secret plan was moving forward perfectly, step by step.
_________ The Secret Agent _________
The next day, during play time in the prison yard, Salim looked around for the usual group of martial artists. He saw only seven men practicing. The eighth one, Moin, was missing. No one knew what had happened to him.
Rehan walked slowly into the yard. A crepe bandage was wrapped tightly around his elbow. His face looked tired and sad. He sat on the ground and said in a low voice, “Yesterday I faced Moin in the death arena. He fought very well. He used skills even better than what I had taught him. But I had to kill him to survive myself.”
The other fighters stood quietly. Salim sat beside Rehan and asked, “So you have qualified for the final round?”
“Yes,” Rehan replied softly. “Next week, Monday, I have to face that Djinn. Even if I survive the match, I don’t think I will be free.”
“Why?” the other fighters asked together.
Rehan looked at Salim and explained, “Because one of the highest-ranking military officers of our country is part of this death fighting arena. He is very impressed with my fighting skills. The guard told me this officer, Lieutenant Danish, comes every month to the prison to watch the fights from behind the one-sided mirror. If I win against the Djinn, he will offer me a job as one of his personal bodyguards. No one has ever defeated that monster called Djinn. How can I say no to such a high-ranking officer of our country?”
Salim’s eyes became bright. “But that is good news! What would you do if you became free? A job in the military office is great and prestigious, right?”
Rehan shook his head sadly. “Actually, I don’t want to fight or fire guns anymore. I want peace. I planned to grow plants and do agriculture in some quiet village far from this town. I don’t like fighting now. I need peace.”
Salim put a hand on Rehan’s shoulder. “Whatever happens, don’t let this chance go away, Bhaijaan. It will be a good and respected job for you. Right now, you should only focus on your upcoming fight with the Djinn. Let’s start our practice!”
Hearing Salim’s words, Rehan stood up quickly. He began doing push-ups on the ground. The other seven fighters paired up and started practicing martial arts with each other. The yard filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, kicks, and punches.
The next day, Pramita wearing a full burkha came to the prison visitor area. She told the guards she was Salim’s sister. During meeting hours, Salim and Pramita sat facing each other, separated by thick prison bars. Other prisoners were also talking to their families and friends. Guards walked around, keeping careful eyes on everyone.
Salim leaned closer to the bars and whispered, “Next week, Monday. Take care, my sister.”
Pramita nodded slightly. When the meeting time ended, guards checked her again before letting her leave. Salim walked back to his cell.
Outside, Pramita walked to a car parked a little away from the prison gate. Rohit was waiting in the driver’s seat. Raja sat in the back. Pramita got in beside Raja. As Rohit started driving through the busy city roads, Pramita said, “Next week, Monday, our target will come to the prison. The date is final. Our agent has done his job perfectly. Now we just have to wait. I hope we succeed in our mission.”
The car moved through traffic. They took many different roads, turning often to make sure no one was following them. Finally, they reached the same two-storey building. They parked safely and went inside.
________ The Secret Mission _________
On Monday afternoon, two military cars drove through the high, strong main gate of Jahannam Prison. As soon as the vehicles passed, the heavy gate closed with a loud clang. Lieutenant Danish stepped out of the lead car. Ten personal bodyguards, all holding rifles, followed him closely. Their boots echoed on the concrete ground.
The jailer himself hurried out to greet the high-ranking officer. With deep respect, he led Lieutenant Danish and the bodyguards across the prison compound to a building in the southern corner. This was where the secret fighting arena held its weekly death matches.
Today, like his monthly visits, Lieutenant Danish had come to watch the fight between the undefeated Djinn and the new challenger, Rehan, who had won all five previous matches.
They entered a small, dark room with a large one-sided mirror on one wall. Through it, they could see the empty fighting hall clearly, but no one inside could see them. One bodyguard stayed inside the room with the officer. Two stood outside the door. The other seven guarded the building entrance.
The jailer closed the door and asked politely, “So tell me, sir! How did your last military operation go?”
Lieutenant Danish sat down on a comfortable chair facing the mirror. He smiled with a harsh voice and said, “Yes! In the last operation, our militants hijacked a passenger airplane of our enemy country, India! We forced the Indian government to release five of our militants—whom they call terrorists—from their highly guarded prisons! Ha ha ha!”
“Subhanallah!” the jailer said happily, his eyes shining. “Great, sir! I know you will not tell about your next operation, but as a citizen of this country, I am really curious!”
“Ha ha ha! Okay!” Officer Danish replied, leaning back in his chair. “I will not tell much, but…the boundary of Bangladesh is not properly guarded by the Indian government. There are many places in jungle areas with no proper boundaries. Many illegal immigrants from Bangladesh have been entering West Bengal of India. The government of West Bengal is also giving them fake Aadhaar cards and voter IDs, just to use them as a vote bank. India is govorned by one political party and West Bengal by other! Yes! The security of India is a joke! And many militants of our country, guarded by Almighty Allah, have already entered India. They have smuggled semi-automatic weapons. They are waiting for my orders. India will bleed with thousands of wounds at the same time if our next operation succeeds. Enough said! Now start the match! I am eager to enjoy this bloody fight of death!”
The jailer sat on the chair beside Danish and nodded. “I don’t think Rehan will survive, sir. Just like the other fighters, his skull will also be smashed by our Djinn.”
Lieutenant Danish stared excitedly at the mirror, waiting for the doors to open. “Only Allah knows what will happen.”
The room fell silent except for the low hum of the cameras. Both men leaned forward, ready to watch the deadly fight begin.
Rehan walked slowly through the long, dim corridor toward the fighting arena hall. A prison guard followed close behind him. The guard spoke in a low voice, “All the best! You once asked why the Djinn does not want freedom even though he has never lost. The truth is, the jailer gives him a special drug that makes him stronger and faster. The Djinn now lives in a better cell with a television and other comforts. He has become addicted to that drug. Without regular injections into his veins, he would not survive. I do not want to demotivate you, but I do not believe you will live through this.”
Rehan turned his head slightly and smiled calmly. “Only our Almighty, Merciful Allah knows what will happen. Thank you, take care, Bhaijaan.” He stepped into the bright fighting hall. The heavy door closed and locked behind him with a loud click.
The hall was silent except for the quiet hum of cameras on the walls. Rehan stood in the center, breathing deeply, his body tense as he waited for his opponent.
The opposite door opened. The Djinn entered. Rehan, who was six feet tall, felt small when he saw the giant. The Djinn stood seven feet tall, his body covered in huge muscles. His face looked cruel and cold. He stared at Rehan and smiled widely. Pointing one big index finger at him, the Djinn said in a deep voice, “Oh Allah! Another little rat after all!”
Before the signal to start the fight came from the speaker, Rehan gathered all his courage. He ran forward, jumped high into the air, and launched a powerful flying kick. His foot hit the Djinn hard in the lower chest. The giant did not move even an inch.
Rehan landed and quickly tried more kicks at the Djinn’s legs. The giant still stood like a mountain, unmoved. Rehan then charged again and again with strong punches to the body and face. His fists felt like they were hitting hard stone. The Djinn only smiled, standing completely still.
Behind the one-sided mirror, Lieutenant Danish watched with growing frustration. He said loudly, “Oh Allah! Rehan will die within seconds!”
Rehan kept attacking with everything he had, but nothing worked. Sweat ran down his face. His breathing became heavy. Deep inside, he understood—this was his last day alive.
The giant Djinn continued to smile, waiting patiently for the signal to begin his own attack!
A white van sped along the road near the high boundary wall of Jahannam Prison. Rohit gripped the steering wheel tightly while Pramita sat in the back, her fingers flying across the laptop keyboard. Thanks to the hidden Arduino board planted in the prison’s main circuit, she now controlled the entire system. With a final press of a key, every metal cell door in the prison slid open at the same moment.
Inside the cell blocks, prisoners froze for a second in shock. Then, realizing this was their only chance for freedom, they poured out like a flood. Hundreds of men in orange uniforms ran screaming through the corridors. Guards shouted orders and fired rifles, dropping several prisoners in pools of blood. But there were too many prisoners. The crowd overpowered the guards, beating and stabbing them with screw drivers without mercy.
From a nearby two-storey building, Raja lay on the roof with a sniper rifle. One by one, he shot the guards standing in the high watchtowers. Their bodies fell silently to the ground.
Salim — had waited patiently in his cell for this exact moment. He joined the rushing crowd and ran out of the prison building. Some prisoners along with Salim had picked up the rifles from the dead guards! With more than fifty prisoners behind him, he led the attack on the armory. They killed the guards there quickly and broke into the weapon room. Prisoners grabbed rifles, pistols, magazines, and gr***des. Soon, heavy gunfire echoed everywhere. The whole prison turned into a chaotic battlefield within seconds. Prisoners fought desperately for their freedom, shooting guards and taking their weapons.
While others ran wildly, killing and shouting, Salim loaded himself with extra magazines, gr***des, pistols, and a rifle. He ran straight toward the southern building where the fighting arena was held.
The seven bodyguards outside the southern building heard the gunfire and became alert. One ran inside to protect their officer. The others raised their rifles, scanning the compound.
Hiding behind a thick wall, Salim pulled the pins from two gr***des and threw them at the group. The explosions were deafening. The seven bodyguards were torn apart, their bodies bursting like balloons full of blood.
Salim charged into the building, firing his rifle with steady, trained hands. The three remaining bodyguards inside returned fire. Bullets flew through the air. Salim threw another gr***de. It exploded against the wall of the viewing room, blowing a huge hole. Smoke and dust filled everything.
Through the smoke, the last bodyguard fired blindly toward the attacker. Lieutenant Danish and the jailer panicked. They ran toward the back door that led to a corridor connected to the fighting hall.
Another gr***de blast destroyed the rest of the viewing room and killed the final bodyguard.
Inside the fighting hall, the giant Djinn had Rehan pinned against the floor. His massive palms squeezed Rehan’s head like a fruit. Rehan screamed in terrible pain, waiting for his skull to crack. Suddenly, the one-sided mirror exploded in a shower of glass and fire. The Djinn looked up, startled. He threw Rehan aside like a rag doll. Rehan hit the hard floor, gasping.
Through the broken wall, Salim fired his rifle. Many bullets struck the Djinn’s huge body. The mountain-like giant fell forward, lifeless.
In the corridor, Lieutenant Danish and the jailer ran as fast as they could toward the backside steel sliding door. They fired their pistols behind them while running. Just before they reached it, bullets hit the jailer in the back. He fell dead. Danish kept shooting into the smoke with one hand while pulling the heavy door open with the other. His pistol clicked empty. The door finally slid open. As he stepped outside, a bullet struck him in the back.
Wounded badly, Danish crawled on the ground, blood pouring from his body. From the smoky corridor, Salim walked forward, rifle pointed at him.
Danish looked up, breathing hard. “You don’t know who I am! Let me live and I will make you rich! Whatever you want, tell me!”
Salim smiled calmly and aimed the rifle. “Thanks for the offer, but I proudly serve my country, India!”
“Oh! So you are an Indian Hindu kafir! What to expect from insects like you!” Danish said, panting in pain.
“No,” Salim replied. “I am a Muslim too. And to let you know, in India people of all different religions stay together in harmony. I am a proud Indian, and I also serve Allah.”
Salim pulled the trigger and emptied the entire magazine into Danish’s body. The terrorist mastermind died instantly. His body was so damaged it could not be recognized.
Salim ran to the nearby tall boundary wall. He threw three gr***des at its base. The explosions tore a large hole in the strong wall.
He looked back and saw Rehan slowly climbing out of the broken southern building. Rehan was heavily wounded from the Djinn’s beating, but alive.
The white van raced up and stopped near the new hole in the wall. Pramita opened the door and shouted, “Mission successful! Let’s get away, Agent Rahim!”
Salim jumped down from the broken wall. Before climbing into the van, he turned to Rehan, who was also coming through the hole. “Bhaijaan Rehan! You are a free man now! Allah Hafiz!”
The van sped away quickly, disappearing down the road.
Rehan stepped out through the broken boundary wall into the free world. He whispered softly, “Allah Hu Akbar.”
That was the last time he ever saw Bhaijaan Salim—the man whose real name was Rahim Abdul Khan, secret agent of India’s Research and Analysis Wing, RAW!
_________ Jay Hind ____________
