Missing Identity

Handcuffed and blind folded, he was dragged outside his cell; his face covered with unruly beard, the little bit of cloth that he had on his upper body tattered revealing the marks of torture. He had been languishing in a prison in an alien land for the last twenty years. Falsely implicated for spying, today was his day of redemption. Couple of years back, his plight came into the notice of a humanitarian group who took up his case. Being in solitary confinement in a dark cell, his eyes fought against the streaming sun rays when the blind fold was removed, though that was all he wanted for so long. After giving him a bath, a good shave and decent clothes, the blind fold was put back again and he was transported in a vehicle to the airport across the desert where he was to embark upon his return journey to his homeland. A budding journalist was lost 20 years ago. An old and weary man was released today. They had nothing in common apart from the name.

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