Journey With India

Stepped down from Volvo bus -a diamond in the sparklers of Sweden Technology, at Rajendra Nagar in Indore with intend to catch the direct train to Ratlam. Despite my fullest walking speed, I saw the train drifting away left with nothing but a question that only an inquiry-cum- ticket counter person could answer, “Train to Ratlam?” an impish smile appeared on his fair face, “You just missed the train and next train is after two and half hour, in case you are in hurry catch the bus from Gangwal Bus stand.”

Ahead of his generous advice, I knew all my leftover options hence thanked him and came out from that small railway station. The journey from Indore to Ratlam by bus was going to be terrible as the condition of roads especially at that stretch was nowhere less than a shameful spot at the shining face of second fastest growing economy in the entire world. As soon as I walked out a man in his early 20’s approached in typical Indori tone, “O Bhiyaoo kidhar chodo?” (Hello brother, where can I drop you?) I still couldn’t make up my mind so ignored him and his question just to light up a cigarette from a nearby Pan-shop. With last puff, I had made up my mind to take bus rather than slaying two and half hour doing nothing. At this instance, I approached one auto-wala and asked the fare, “How much for Gangwal bus stand?” He came forward to hold my bag, “Ho Bhiyao chalenge na...Aao baithoo sirf Rs. 60.” (Yeah brother, let’s go...only Rs. 60), I looked at his face for couple of second and it was enough to bring him down for negotiation, “thik hai Rs.50 chalo aao baithoo...boni ka time hai bhiya” (Okay, Rs. 50...now come and sit...it’s the start of day big brother.) I found it reasonable however if I were my college days then it would have been impossible for him to get me convinced to pay Rs.50 for such a small distance.

At bus stand, things seemed familiar but somehow strange at the same time. Perhaps, it was the effect of being a typical IT professional who hates to travel in congested buses, loves to be in sleeper or semi sleeper bus and travelling in non-AC wouldn't be matter of choice but the left over option, in case. Dust and odd smells became the matter of allergy and walking small distances or bargaining over anything but fare nowhere less than big agony as if they are in certain dream or interposed a certain idea. Behind the ticket window, a man in late 40’s was making tickets while in front, next to the ticket counter a man in late 20's seeking passengers and helping them to get the ticket as well as seat. It’s obvious from his behavior that he was the conductor of next bus to Ratlam and trying to get as many passengers as he could. Before me in the queue, there was a girl standing for ticket, she asked for three front seats and then I asked for the same, “one ticket to Ratlam...any of the front rows but window seat.” Ticket giver refused to fulfill my one and only wish to him and handed over a ticket with seat number 22, which was obviously nowhere in the front rows and also not the window one. With dwindling hope, again, I put my request in a manner trying to convince my onsite co-ordinator but soon it’s evident that I had given a wrong try to right person. Soon, the conductor’s role was going to kick start in my story, he jumped in and took me aside, “ary bhiyaoo... mein deta hoon na seat ...kidhar baithana hai apko bas seat bolo” (hey brother, I will give you seat just tell me which one you want). He sounded so convincing that I got into his bus. The moment I stepped in, I reconsidered my decision, but the ticket was in my hand and nowhere I could afford to waste almost two and hours. Bus was 90% full and still people are coming in. Front rows were already full; I looked into his eyes with frown he defended, “Ary bhaiyoo...bola hai to seat donga...ap chinta mat karo.” (Hey brother...as I have already said...don’t worry I will give you seat.) He asked one man with shabby clothes, “ary kaka kathe jaaoga.” (O uncle... where are you going?) He replied, “Nagda jaaoga.” Conductor urged, “Kaka  ... Pache jai-ne baitho...at-he Ratlam ni savrai baithega...tha’n picha jai-ne do loga sang baitho” (uncle, go and sit on backside seats, fronts rows are for passengers travelling to Ratlam, you go and sit with other two guys at backside.)

He did not do this just for me but for all who were travelling to Ratlam and conductor especially targeted the people with shabby clothes or better to say innocent villagers. Most were adjusting three on the seats meant just for two. The bus had capacity of 30 passengers but before it set out it had at least 50 passengers onboard and conductor made sure no one would panic. Soon journey sets off, I had my considerably small but heavy bag on my own lap with a water bottle in left hand. There was no room for any kind of stretching for legs and arms, environment filled with the smell of sweat and the smell of sweaty clothes. Most people were labourers and especially women’s who looked slim and tanned, for them I am sure can be proved a better role model for women’s of big hotshot american cities than any other celebtry were victim of malnutrition in reality but fearless and had been carrying better confidence than most urban ones. They all were full with energy for whatever they were travelling to and when it comes to fight with conductor over high fares no one could beat them, they had been determined not to leave single penny in the name of ‘no change available’  from their hard earned or their husband’s hard earned money. Nightmare of bad bumpy roads kept haunting me as bus taking road to Ratlam. Conductor, standing at the gate, raising voice “Nagda....Badnawar.... Ratlam...Nagda...Badnawar....Ratlam”. A man sitting next to me looking sensible and educated had a sense of anger for civic administration – bad road, bad buses, dead slow development, load shedding like a trembling state, although, most have adapted their life accordingly with no complains and bad feelings for anyone except politicians the only bottleneck in the smooth road to development.

“You don’t belong to this piece land.” he asked.

“No, I do belong to this land; it’s just that I am travelling through this route after a long time.” replied disgustedly. “It’s still the same... no change....what politicians are doing here?”

“They are doing the same thing which they have been doing since independence.” We both smiled at his comment.

“I thought, must be after the long Raj of Congress, BJP had done something for this place.”

“They all belong to same breed...its only party names that are different.” It seems the man was very much into politics and disgusted by the same.

“By the way I am Rajveer, an IT professional.” Introduced myself and this was enough to get scan of my mind.

“Oh...Now I understand, why your forehead has got wrinkles and eyes seems pissed off, by the way I am Naresh used to be social activist in my college days but currently no one...doing a computer course with hope of getting good job like you.”

Naresh got down at Nagda, and this time I had to share seat with an old man almost in sweet 60’s. He had nameplate with medal on his chest attached seems he had been awarded for certain kind of bravery or good work and had eyes closed as if doing meditation. And, the conductor, making money like anything. Bus kept swelling up with passengers and so his palm with currency bills. He left me astonished by his managerial skills. His co-ordination with driver, his control over crowd inside bus, his way of collecting money even from those who were stubborn about high fares. One passenger from rear asked him to stop bus somewhere so that he can pour some water into his dry thirsty throat but conductor refused his urge to stop bus and however, offered his own water bottle. He kept checking his cell phone for time and it seems he couldn’t afford to waste 10 minutes on the urge of one passenger.

After 20-25 KMs, the road automatically turned out smooth like butter, I asked conductor, “When this road has been re-constructed?”

“It’s been a year and the good thing is that it’s the same until Ratlam.” I was amazed to hear this. How could a road that was tottering since 5 years be built so smooth within a year?

“It looks politicians are doing some good work, isn’t it?” I replied.

“No bhiyaoo, its public, business organizations, self-working groups and activists who came forward and approached higher authorities and politicians with anger and threats of coming elections. Now public don’t vote based on election campaign but based on work done for social causes. The time has completely changed. Politicians are still same but the public’s outlook has changed.”

I could see that change among the illiterate or less educated people around me; the small conductor who was doing business no less than a big businessperson would do and knew the cost of time. Public seems to have awareness about their rights and progress; they were talking about the recession and India’s sustainability in such bad time, talking about new companies and factories coming in. People, stepping down – stepping up at their respective stops, load on the small engine of small bus kept increasing exactly the same way on our economy but still, the engine carrying it well with little strain. No one looked happy in that crowded atmosphere but as with speed, the time kept squeezing up and all faces were sure about the happiness of reaching their destination sooner than later. Everyone has boarded the bus of Progress and development and they are not happy yet but they are sure about the happiness, which they would have once they reach for what they got on, or waiting.

Eventually, bus hit the Ratlam bus stand and all stepped down, including me. I looked around and it seems nothing has changed but when squint the vision, traces of changes and progress presents everywhere. Terribleness of journey was nowhere; I have realized that it was my chance to look at things from new perspective and promised to have my return journey through same stretch.

A Last Letter

Dearest Honey,

No matter what had happened in between you and me, but I still begin my day saying ‘I love you’ to your frame which is not there in my room but yes, it is there in my old eyes. My fragile body, which is decaying with time, feels helpless without you. Every morning I wish I could have gone with you. There was a time when you were there, to wake me up and guide me to the backyard to watch the dawn. Now, without you I wait with closed eyes for you to re-appear from somewhere and take me to backyard. Your foot-marks from last autumn we spent together are still intact as though that season had never passed. Chill of morning gust made me feel the same pain when you were with me, but now it had changed to something else. Sorry, I could not write it in words.

Remember the candles, which you left gleaming! Now they do not even heave up smoke. I always wonder if you were here then at least they had been smoking endlessly. Nonetheless, now, when I be adrift in the house, I always strive to feel your footfalls following mine, but they appear nowhere. Curtains of entire house are still left slightly open, as you used to keep them for my first look whenever I would come back, but now, I always keep my eyes on them for your first look, hoping that you would come back some moment. You know these growing eyes had started turning blur and daily, I attempt to negotiate with them for little more time. Even the kitchen does not smell the way it used to, and the food does not even taste the same. Although, I still used to cook the same as past, do not know what has changed suddenly. With every meal, I try to figure out what has changed in spices, everything appears same except your voice with grimace face.

Its summertime, all bright sunny days, but I guess I am caught up with cold. I cannot smell anything. House seems inodorous. Perhaps I am left with no care that is the reason. Well, you know, I walk around the entire house and try to smell your aroma but it has left the house. Why don’t I know? Perhaps it is due to summer‘s cold in which nose doesn’t rain but get choked. You know, whenever I seek you, I end up with heavy lump in my throat, I am sure it is nothing but cold but if you were here, I had been enjoying good health and your natural fragrance.

Now, if power goes off, I call your name repeatedly in a polite manner. It doesn’t matter how far you would be but I still call in low voice since I know, you hate listening your name in loud voice and consequently I end up with no reply even after for hours. Perhaps, it’s due to your endless sleep, which you are having in your coffin.

How stupid I am, despite of knowing that you were sleeping I always call you, I always seek you, I always wait to see your first look, I always stroll around the entire house with a stick, glasses and fragile body looking for you.

Now it’s time to sleep, need to wake up early to see the dawn.

Good night.

Yours…

First Snow In Valley

First Snow In Valley

  One more misty evening in the valley and just at the brink of murky mountain a row of old falter and fainter houses made up of wood and mud, were set up there as if someone had deliberately put them at the verge. The slight lithesome smoke was coming out from those houses. It seemed the dinner was being cooked after the long day hardship at and around the mountain with cattle and collecting wood, which were burning in the wood stove. A crinkled sound of some old hit Hindi songs had played down somewhere far on radio in the milieu.

“Akbar….take that lamb away from goat, it will drink all milk” said Ameenah, with vessel in right hand approached her son, who had freed the lamb to suck all the milk from the breast of goat.

“Hehehehe….Ammi let it first done with its appetite, see how small it is, it won’t drink much.” said Akbar, while trying to stop Ameenah by tugging on her left leg.

Ameenah held Akbar in hands, lifted him up, and kissed hard on his left cheek. Akbar giggled and kissed back, below the eyes of Ameenah, with little hands snarled in her hair. Ameenah kissed him again and set him free on ground. She looked around and set her hijab right, as little hands of Akbar removed it partly. She had hairs similar to the strings of silk. A trivial golden touch on hairs and a pink spot on either side of the face made her seem splendid. A dark black lining along the brink of her eyes made them seem more wide and beauteous.

Lamb had done with the feed of milk and seemed satisfied. Akbar drew close to it and it began running away, in all directions besides Akbar with open hands ran behind it. Ameenah touched the breasts of goat to feel if milk still left, but she found, no milk was left. Accordingly, she got up and cried, “Nafeesa,” appa (elder sister) of Akbar to look after him, as his was just 10 year old and went inside to cook dinner as the Khala and khalu of Akbar were coming for dinner.

Nafeesa came over and restrained Akbar from running by expanding her hands wide. She had blocked his way solely. Akbar tried to escape for the couple of moments but then he abruptly sat down with longing face. Nafeesa looked at him by imitating his face and swung around to catch the running lamb. She caught it and presented him. Akbar’s face showed up being on cloud nine and kissed the lamb on head. Now Nafeesa and Akbar both began playing with lamb, blithely. After couple of minutes, Akbar stood up and sought to pick up the lamb but he couldn’t, so grabbed the flapping ear of it, and began pulling in, as he was walking down inside the house.

Nafeesa was still outside looking towards the dark clouds encircling the valley. She seemed mesmerized by the surroundings. Her enchantment had arrested when her Abba called her name from the street he was coming in. She looked at her Abba who had been grinning from his black thick beard. He had accompanied by her Khala and Khalu, both had waved their hands towards her in the gesture not to run down and wait there until they reach there.

Nafeesa swung around and cried out, “Ammi, Akbar….Abba had arrived with Khala and Khalu. Come out fast.”

Ameenah had come out holding hand of Akbar and he was clasping ear of Lamb pulling it from behind. Until then Abba had also arrived after climbing the initial stairs with guests.

Ameenah bowed to welcome them, “Aadabh…. Aadabh” then hugged Khala with warm feelings. When they unleashed, Nafeesa bowed and said, “Aadabh Khala...” just like her Ammi. Khala replied to it same way and touched her head as though blessing for long prosperous happy life.

On the other hand, Khalu lifted up Akbar until his chest said, “Jahapanah you have gained a lot of weight since my last visit, now this old man can’t lift you up anymore.” and handed him over to his Abba. Akbar grabbed the thick black beard of his Abba and laughed.

All females went into the house and all males went into the shade set up in the open area outside the house.

Khalu said, “Ahmed, today’s climate is quite good, it seems there will be snowfall.”

Ahmed, Akbar’s Abba replied, “Yeah, everyone in the valley waiting for the first snowfall of this season and so the terror.”

Khalu said, after a long sigh, “Yeah why doesn’t this Indian government give us our freedom. We are not supposed to be part of India in anyways and it does not matter whether it is first snowfall or last. I have never passed any night without the sounds of bullets.” Khala got little agitated.

Ahmed replied, “No, I don’t think so, we are part of this huge country though we are Muslim but that doesn’t make us different from them, we are as free as others, it’s just we are little troubled because of other side terrorists who are sitting ready to cross the border after first snowfall.”

Khalu said in alerted voice, “Mind it Ahmed, they are not terrorist they are Jihadists, fighting for our freedom…they are the real fighters of god and one day they will bring freedom to you and me, Insha’Allah.”

Ahmed replied in calm voice, “I agree they are not terrorists, they are Jihadists, but they are wrongly inspired jihadists.”

Ahmed paused for a moment to look into the hard eyes of Khalu and continued, “We have to come out from our legacy for our coming generations” while touching the head of Akbar who was listening to their conversation with baffled expression.

Khalu looked down for a moment then said by directly looking into eyes of Ahmed, “But we are still not free. Look around, there are barricades and check post lasted everywhere since decades. We have never lived a single week without curfew. The Indian army frisks us every now and then as if we have bombs in our belongings, they don’t even leave our women. They are all infidel Ahmed, mind it.”

Ahmed protested, “No, they are not infidel, it’s just they have their own god but that doesn’t set ground for hate and by the way, the army, barricades, check posts all are here for our sake.”

Khalu put his entire hatred across in his last argument, “I don’t believe in these infidels. May Allah burn them in hell until apocalypse?”

Khala appeared with a tray consisting of cups of tea and a glass of milk, “As you said, now please stops this talk and has tea. I don’t know who is Fidel and who is infidel, I just want peace.”

Ahmed picked up the dropping words of Khala, “Insha’Allah Appa….I was trying to say the same. If peace would be there then only we can hope better future for our kids like Akbar and Nafeesa.”

Khala passed tea to Ahmed and Khalu and the glass of milk to Akbar. Khala returned to help Ameenah in cooking.

After tea, Ahmed looked around and said, “Let’s move in, cold is increasing and so the night is approaching.”

Before khalu and Ahmed could take single step ahead towards the house, Akbar had already run inside the house. Both followed him and spontaneously white feathers from heaven began swaying over their head. Ahmed looked at the face of Khala and smiled in mixed expression. He congratulates Khalu for the first snowfall of the season in the valley. They happily entered into house and kept door remain open to see the magic of white covering that had overlaid the valley slowly-slowly as if turning valley into heaven. It seemed the day had began rising by skipping the dark night in the form of white snow.

The mesmeric peaceful environment had soon filled with the heavy roar of trucks. They were army trucks. The rolling wheels came to halt on the freshly settled snow and thwacks of boots led off with clangor that was emerging from the guns, which were ready in the hands to slay whosoever come into view.

Apparently, Akbar saw soldiers jumping down the truck. Their faces had some kind of dark makeover and all seeming horrible. They began taking their positions and in haste, Akbar’s Abba came forward to shut the door as if he had made sure that no bullet would ever penetrate it an d whole family would be safe. Akbar was still seeing the deadly drill of soldiers from the little gap between the door sides. Ahmed snaffled Akbar’s hand, fetched him away from the door hastily, and lay down on the ground underneath the bed. Ameenah, Khala, and Nafeesa were in the kitchen. Akbar was laying between his Abba Ahmed and his khalu just like a Perl in the shell that shield it from outrageous sea.

All together, the silence had prevailed in the surrounding, everyone were counting his or her breath and waiting for the ugly nude dance of fire and death to begin. Khalu getting impatience and apparently said, “Ahmed, you told that Jihadists cross the border after first snowfall and if that was true then what the hell this army is doing outside?”

Ahmed replied, “That’s general saying, they can cross border, whenever they want.”

Khalu closed his eyes and chanted, “May Allah help them in beheading every infidel today.”

Ahmed protested, “Please, don’t wish such rubbish thing. Allah won’t fulfill your wish. The army out there is to protect us not to kill. I am sure there must be some terrorists hiding around, in our street.”

Khalu instantly said, “They are not terrorists.”

Ahmed replied, “Ok, as you wish, they are Jihadist. Now please keep the silence.”

Akbar listened to their conversation with closed eyes. Every word of argument straightaway went down to his memory. Soon a dreadful voice appeared vociferously with the sound of gunshot and then that voice had disappeared as though it had never been. Again, silence appeared of one second and then the human screaming disappeared in the storm of bullets, rockets, and grenades. Due to the constant snowfall and nearing night, it was difficult to figure out to whom they were firing. In the roaring sound of death, Ahmed picked up his son Akbar and took him to the other room. He opened the top of the empty strong metal drum and put Akbar there. He had kissed him before putting the cap on it and said, “Once this firing sound turns out silent then only come out from it until then close your eyes and chant the name of Allah.”

Ahmed somehow managed to reach the kitchen to see Ameenah, Nafeesa, and his Appa, they were sitting next to burning wood stove with frightened eyes and clasped each other’s hand. Ahmed’s eyes seemed so frightened off but he had showed his hand telling to keep patience and remain where they are. He went back to Khala who was still hiding under the bed.

Ahmed bent to went down under the bed. Suddenly three bullets appeared from somewhere and traversed through his heart, shoulder, and forehead, respectively. His bones broke away sounding if Ameenah had broken up firewood to put into the wood stove. He couldn’t even make any sound and fell down just like axed tree. After a while, a grenade landed on the bed and took away the life of Khala with his body. He died without knowing the fact that which side had fling it, Army or Jihadists.

Outside the house, few bodies were laying in the street, lifeless. Gun battle was still on. It was hard to tell who was firing on whom. Bodies of army personnel could be easily identifiable but it was hard to tell about the other bodies if they were indwellers of that street or the indwellers of other side who had come in the name of Jihad. Endless bullet shells had dispersed on the covering of bedding of snow. The precipitating snow had been slowly draping each body laying lifeless in the street in white-sheet. Ashes in black were burning hot and blood of red and black shades freezing in the snow with inerasable impression.

After hours of gunfire, lastly it all came to halt. Akbar sitting with closed eyes inside the metal drum opened them and tried to hear the gunshots wherever he heard no gunshots and could only listen to the crinkling sound of fire revealing from burning houses. Akbar stepped out from the drum after removing cap and walked to the place where initially he was hiding with his Abba and Khala. His Abba lay dead in the pool of blood that had somehow turning out black due to the fire around. Khalu was nowhere visible, only the burning piece of human meat could be seen and smelt out. Akbar’s eyes turned moist, his vision had glazed over. He turned around and ran towards the kitchen yelling, “Ammi…Appa….Ammi…Appa….Ammi….Appa….”

In the kitchen, he looked at his Ammi and Appa. Ameenah’s head was perched at the verge of burning wood stove. Her half face had completely burned down. Her Hijab was still on her head as though clung to her head after smolder. Few bullets or perhaps metal pieces had pierced through her bosoms. The moment Akbar looked into the remaining eye it turned out dead. Nafeesa, Akbar’s Appa laid in Ammi’s lap but it seemed she was drowned in the pool of blood.

Now Akbar hadn’t even dared to look at the body of Khala and walked away. He looked at the floor and saw some bullets, some bullet shells. He had picked up one shell and looked at it as if searching for something. When he found nothing, he dropped it off and picked up another one. This search of Akbar passed from one shell or bullet to another and went on it seemed there had been no end of it. After half an hour, someone entered the house in very alert manner. The person was in army dress, he looked at Akbar as an ordinary child. He called him but Akbar heard nothing and kept on checking shell after shell, bullet after bullet. This act of Akbar made soldier to look bemused. He looked around very carefully and then went to Akbar.

He asked, “Hey kid, what are you looking for?”

Akbar showed empty shells. He held it in his fingers and found it useless.

He again asked, “What are you looking for? Let me help you?”

Akbar replied, “I am looking for the bullet that had fired to kill my Abba, Ammi, and Appa.”

Soldier replied, “But they might have by any of the bullet.”

Akbar said by handing him over another useless shell, “No, Jihadists where firing on Army so their bullet had your name and Army was firing on Jihadists so your bullets had their name. Now I want to know that which side’s bullet had my Ammi, Abba, and Appa’s name.”

Soldier was left with no words. His lips just sealed down. He hugged Akbar and took him outside the trash. He made him sit comfortably next to a person who was reporting to the headquarters about the mission. He said, “Sir, We have gunned down 15 terrorists with minimal civilian casualty.”

From other side, “Good job captain, tell me civilian casualty?”

Captain replied, “Only one civilian house burned down as it was sandwiched between us and target. There are around 5 casualties and we have just saved one kid from that house.”

From other side, “Good Job Captain.”

Captained paused for a moment and continued, “Sir, send as much medical support as possible ASAP, our casualties are higher, 20 Jawans and snowfall is heavy.”

From other side, “Ohh…don’t worry Captain the medical support is on its way, over and out.”

Eyes Of Enemy

 Eyes Of Enemy

It was the arrival of rainy season in 1971 and the first shower of that season hits our Military Base at Jhansi (U.P). The aroma of earth wandering around and suddenly I was called my senior, Subedar karamveer Singh in the barrack. I am soldier Rab-rakhha, relatively new to army though, I had joined army almost a year ago, after the completion of my matriculation, and after training, I was posted to Jhansi Camp as a soldier of Great Indian Army. I am 17 year old.

I appeared before Subedar karamveer Singh and did a salute, “Jai Hind Sahibji”

Karamveer singh replied, “Jai Hind Rab-rakhha, how are doing?”

I replied, “Everything is fine Sahibji.”

Karamveer asked, “So how are enjoying the first shower of the season.”

I replied, “Very good Sahibji ….it induced the remembrance to appear into my eyes all again.”

Karamveer smiled and asked, “Are you married?”

I replied, “Yes Sahibji.”

Karamveer inquired, “How many years?”

I replied, “Don’t remember Sahibji …I only got married when I didn’t even know my name.” and therewith Subedar karamveer Singh and I, both started laughing. Karamveer suddenly stopped laughing yet a smile still persisted on his face and asked, “When did you last visit your village and family.”

“Not a single time since I joined, Sahibji,” I replied.

“Good now forget for the coming 6 more months at least as well, as I have got orders for your transfer ….you have been posted to Kashmir near LOC” and with that doom Karamveer handed over the posting letter to me.

Without opening it I asked, “Sahibji, when I have to resume my duty over there?”

Karamveer replied, “Coming Sunday…you have 4 day and don’t forget to take the warm clothes from canteen its very cold place.”

I replied, “Ohk Sahibji …..Jai Hind” and with “Jai Hind” I walked off from the eyes of Subedar Sahib.

After four days, I was standing in a deserted cold barren valley and the frost effect of weather freezing my whole body including my private parts. I was acting as If I was kid out there and everyone were considering me that very only excluding Captain Javed khan.

When I resumed my duty, Captain Sahib called me up and asked, “Since how long are you in army?”

I replied, “Almost One year, Captain Sahib,”

He enlightens his cigarette and asked, “So how do you like this place?”

 I replied, “It’s very beautiful out there Captain Sahib but I have never experienced this much of cold in my life.”

I continued, “I don’t know Captain Sahib how you all survive here? I am not used to it.”

Captain Sahib replied, “Don’t worry you also get used to it, just like us.”

Captain Sahib rested his hand on my shoulder and spoke in advising manner, “Always remember, don’t ever look into the eyes of enemy.”

He continued, “By the way, you are assigned to company 2, and company 2 guards the last check post at the border. So go and meet Subedar Rajaram and he will let you know about your duty.”

I replied, “Ohk Captain Sahib….Jai Hind.”

He also replied, “Jai Hind” and with those words, I left the barrack.

I looked for Subedar Rajaram and found him preparing the company 2 ready for the duty at last check post.

On his back I asked, “Rajaram sahib?”

He turned around, “Yes...”

I said, “Jai Hind Sahibji…I am Rab-rakhha from Jhansi Camp recently posted here and assigned to Company 2 for duty.”

He looked at me from top to bottom and replied, “You are indestructible”

I asked in perplexed manner, “Why Sahibji?”

He replied, “Because your name is “Rab-rakhha” that mean god saves you,” and all the soldiers standing out there started laughing.

Now Rajaram sighed, “So coming with us to the border?”

I replied, “Sahibji, no one asked me and even I haven’t yet issued my sniper and equipments for border.”

Rajaram replied in surprise, “So you are our Sharp-shooter.”

He addressed one soldier, “Joginder….go and get him ready for the border and also get him issued his sniper rifle and required equipment, we will move for the border in 30 minutes.”

After 30 minutes, I again met Subedar Rajaram, ready to move to the border. We proceeded to the border and on our way to border, I asked Joginder, “Captain Sahib told me not to look into the eyes of enemy, why so?”

Joginder replied, “I don’t know …he use to say this to everyone. Leave it, don’t take it seriously.”

Finally, we stepped down from the truck next to our check post and the already existed soldiers stepped up inside the truck, as soon as we walked inside the bunker and held their positions.

Rajaram made me familiar with the area by standing next to our bunker. He advised not to take a single step ahead from the bunker else, the enemy from the next bunker would shoot you down.

I asked, “That Banker is belong to enemy?” while point my finger towards it.

He answered, “Yes.”

I said, “That’s so much close, if I fling a stone from here it will surely bleed the head of enemy.”

Within few minutes, we all were on our respective position inside the bunker. I was so excited to look into the enemy bunker hence over looked and found out one enemy soldier directly looking at me.

At first, I thought for the words of Captain Javed Sahib but then I also looked at him with the same manner. When I looked into the eyes of that enemy soldier, I found him more like a friend than an enemy did.

I passed a smile to him and reciprocally, he did the same. He was looking relatively young from the other personnel inside his bunker.

Soon the Subedar Sahib tuned Vividh Bharti on Radio and a smile appeared on everybody’s face. After couple of minutes Subedar Sahib asked joginder, “Oye..Joginder… I guess we all are feeling the urge for tea.”

Joginder smiled and replied, “Sahibji …I guess you only feeling the urge,” and all started laughing lightly.

Joginder prepared tea for all of us and soon all who were inside the bunker holding their respective cups of hot tea. Now I looked at the enemy bunker again and, my eyes crossed with the eyes of that same enemy soldier, and I lifted my cup of tea as if showing my compliments. No one observed this activity of mine as everybody were busy listening to Subebar Sahib who was cracking jokes of his native village.

Slowly 2 I became use to the cold and my companions suggested me how can I defend myself from this deadly cold by rubbing Rum at my feet and hands before going to duty. A daily routine of exchanging gesture with that enemy soldier had started. One day I found him standing adjacent to the wall of his bunker, holding piece of paper and sadness prevailed on face. It made me sure that something wrong had happened to him.

I instantly called Subedar sahib and said, “Sahib, look at that enemy soldier…he is looking sad.”

Subedar sahib looked at him for a while then replied, “He must have got this piece of paper as letter from his family or wife…you know Rab-rakhha …I personally admire this soldier from the enemy bunker however I shouldn’t feel so as a soldier but as a human being no one can stop me feeling so.”

Subedar sahib continued, “He passes gesture to everyone but we avoid it as per Captain Sahib Orders.”

Subedar Sahib asked, “Do you exchange gesture with him?”

To prevent myself from the scolding of Subedar Sahib I denied saying, “No …I only exchange gesture with the gun barrel of enemy via my sniper”

Subedar Sahib smiled and took hold of his position.

With the course of time I developed a sense of friendship with that Soldier, we daily used to lift our cups of tea in welcome gesture. Sometime, he also consoled me from his eyes whenever I missed my family and got frustrated with the hectic duty at border however, my companions were also to do the same to me whenever they found me sad.

Time was walking with its velocity and the winter had shown its face with the first snowfall. However, in the streets of politics things were running so hot just like the summers of Delhi, and the clouds of war also came along, and Captain Sahib increased the number of soldiers in each company to safeguard the Post. Captain Sahib also shifted to our bunker with us from the base. As the stress was swelling up on our head and conversely our smiles, jokes, and laughter were squeezing down.

Finally, one cold night when the noise of breathing was merely there to distract the prevailed eternal silence and soon a sound of fire appeared with which a bullet just snuffed it near to my right ear and passed through the head of Joginder’s head and hit the wall. Therewith, the attentive soldiers also began firing in retaliation. Within moments, havoc prevailed down in the environment and the moments ago eternal silence disappeared somewhere in the valley due to the heavy sounds of firing.

Soon everybody took their positions wherever they got place to counter fire. For few moments, the Captain Sahib was not visible to anyone and Subedar Sahib holding his LMG and firing on the enemy bunker fiercely without any aim in that moonless night.

In a while, someone dragged me from the back and I saw one other soldier taking my position. I was lying down on the ground and saw Captain Saahib Standing on my head with two Machine guns. Apparently, captain Sahib relinquished one Machine gun and to hold it before it hits my chest I dropped my Sniper aside.

Now while keeping my head low under the cap, I followed Captain Sahib holding machine gun in left hand. After few moments, I found myself outside the bunker cling to the wall with four other soldiers.

Captain Sahib instructed us, “You three slip away in the right side, take advantage of the rocks, darkness and take on a safe position somewhere at the left side of the enemy bunker in three minutes and start engaging enemy when we start firing from the other side until that wait at your position.”

Suddenly, Captain Sahib opened one box of ammunition, which had lots of magazine and hand grenades. Within moments, we emptied the box and laden with the tons of ammunition and  we sneaked out in the moonless night as per instructions.

While sneaking out I asked one of my ahead soldier, “Was it pre-planned?”

He replied, “Yeah…it was pre-planned.”

I asked my next question, “then how come you know about this and I didn’t?”

The same soldier whom I was following answered, “Because, initially, joginder was part of plan however the first enemy bullet converted him into martyr and Captain Sahib dragged you out in the darkness accidently.”

I again fired question, “and what about Subedar Sahib?”

He again replied, “As per plan he will engage the enemy in face to face firing.”

Finally, somehow we found a place to take our position and waited for Captain Sahib to open the fire. However, soon I saw few enemy Soldier sneaking out the same way we did and I opened the mouth of my Machine gun on them and due effect my firing put us all into trouble. Enemy started firing in our direction in frantic manner. Although we were safe at our position and soon the direction for enemy firing changed its course from our side to another side and that means Captain Sahib had made up his position at the opposite side of the bunker.

Now as per plan, we engaged enemy from three sides and soon we pushed them at the back foot, now the enemy was only fighting for their survival and to break the left out resistance, we started moving closer to their bunker to hit the last nail at their coffins.

While moving closer to their bunker, a bullet appeared from somewhere and passed through the chest of one who was leading us and soon within couple of moments few more bullets hit his body with one bullet passed through his neck and hit the flesh of my shoulder, I was lucky enough that it didn’t hit the bone. However, in between the leading soldier had turned into martyr and directly descended on me as I was following him.

I tried to drag him but another soldier said, “Leave him, we need to reach the wall of bunker” and pushed me forward.

The body of martyr was laying on the ground and few more bullets hits him as if trying to confirm his death. I looked back at his body and due to anger blood appeared into my eyes with the blend of tears. Now I didn’t look back and we two left out soldiers keep on moving forward. Finally we made up to the wall of bunker and then I touched my wounded shoulder to check the wound and my hand turned out red due to the bleeding, I also realized that the blood traversing through my forearm and finally kissing the land of cold barren valley. Now my both the hands were greased out due to my own blood and made it difficult to properly hold the Machine gun.

I put my gun down and furiously rubbed my palms on the ground surface to make them rough so that I could properly hold my gun to do the final assault. My companion soldier took out two grenades and flings them in a way so that they would fall inside the bunker however only one fall reached the bunker and that too failed to burst although the second grenade burst up just outside the bunker and this created havoc inside as well as outside the bunker.

Now we two were left with one option to start firing in uncontrolled manner however soon I caught a glimpse of Captain Sahib and this made me feel little relax. Now I signaled my companion to provide me cover and enter the bunker as soon as I do so.

I replaced my gun’s almost empty magazine with the full one and took position of enter the bunker. Finally, I entered the bunker with a roar coming out from my mouth and gun as well and within moments, my companion followed me as per agreed instructions. Four enemy soldiers remained in the bunker and I quickly gunned down two of them.

Now I turned around and pointed my gun at the soldier whose fired bullet collided with my left out shoulder from back and for couple of moments we both froze out at our position with our guns, only the mild smoke was coming out from the barrel  and no bullets. The blood was visible in the eyes of both. However, our fingers were on the trigger not to pull the trigger but to hold the trigger from being pulled.

Meanwhile my companion gunned down the last remained enemy soldier.

Soon I heard a yell, “Rab-rakhha, shoot him down.” And I turned my neck around to look in the direction of voice. The voice came from the mouth of the Captain Sahib, who just entered into the bunker with his gun barrel pointing me.

Captain Sahib again yelled, “That’s my order” and simultaneously he hits me from his gun barrel to push me aside. Now as soon as Captain Sahib’s gun’s barrel hits my forearm, my finger unknowingly pulled the trigger and when I started falling down due to the force of Captain Sahib’s strike, few bullets which were resting in my gun’s magazine came into motion. First bullet hits his chest and as I was falling aside second bullet passed through his neck and before touching the ground the last bullet that came out from my gun’s barrel turned him into dead body as that bullet passed through his  forehead.

Now we both were lying on the ground, the only difference was that he was dead and I was still alive with few wounds on my body and those were visible to everyone standing out there. However, no one was looking at the wound that was caused due to the death of that enemy soldier but somewhere he was friend of mine. In the name of Country, I killed one enemy and in the name of humanity, I killed my own friend whose name was still unknown to me.

I sat down near to his body and looked at his face, the face was dead however, a smile was still there, and somewhere that smile was asking me the question, “why you killed me?”

Now Captain Sahib came closer to me, whispered in my ear, “I told you not to look into the eyes of Enemy,” walked away outside the bunker, and informed the base about our win over enemy.

Within few hours, all the dead and wounded soldiers sent to the base camp after initial first aid. After being discharged from the military hospital, I was sent to my village and then I never came back on duty, I never touched any gun. Even today that face preoccupy me in my dreams asking the same question again and again but still I don’t have any answer. I still don’t know his name, for me his name is “Enemy Soldier” and only his dead but smiling face and inquisitive eyes are alive in my memories. Subedar Rajaram was right, “god saves me” however God charged me a huge cost for doing such favor to me.

What An Idea Sir-ji

Idea

Ideals - Principles

Idealist- Those who follow principles

Ideology - visionary theorization

Ideologist - An advocate of some ideology

 

The first ever marketing Punch line of Idea cellular “An idea can change your Life” however with the course of time it gets slightly changed to “What an Idea Sir-ji..”. Although the idea still persist.

My question is what an idea is? Where does it come from? What does it Change?

Obviously, to answer this much of questions are really tough without an “Idea”….hahaha really “What an Idea Sir-ji”

Perhaps one fine day, Mr. God got an idea and created this endless Universe and then in this endless universe our tiny world, then seas, mountains, woods and animals. Now when Mr. God was creating all the animals he got an absolute “Idea” and created an entirely different type of animal and named it “Human Being” and after that, this animal not left our poor Mr. God good enough that he could come up with any other Idea.

Human being without brain is dead and a brain without an “Idea” is dead. Every now and then, we think of something new, different and creative; we name it “An Idea.” Nevertheless, we human being now do not care about an idea, we only care about ideologies on which the whole world is fighting upon. We have stopped thinking about an Idea since ideologies took birth. Although in reality majority of people really don’t understand any ideology completely, but still try to be ideologist because being an Ideologist in today’s world renders an impression of being an Intellectual and who doesn’t want to be an intellectual, I think everyone does.

Now, in the hierarchy of Idea family this Ideology and Ideologist comes at the last but, being an Ideologist means the subset of Ideology, since an ideologist always takes birth from the big belly of any particular Ideology. Being an Ideologist means to advocate one particular ideology every time, hence, Ideology becomes the superset and ideologist becomes a subset.

Now, the question is “does it all start from the ideology itself or from any other source?” Ideology is not like a immortal soul, which can never be created and nor be destroyed, at the same time it is not that different from any other immortal soul. Soul doesn’t need to take birth because soul was the eternal idea of our poor Mr. God. However an Ideology is the eternal Idea of an Idealist and it takes birth from an Idealist because of the fusion of his or her nerve cells but once an ideology takes birth it becomes immortal just like souls. Now if I would say mathematically then we come to the structure where Ideologist is the subset of Ideology and Ideology is the subset of Idealist and this way Idealist, a human being becomes the superset and to such Idealist common people call “What an Idea Sir-ji !!!”

Now let us see what makes an Individual an Idealist. An Idealist is always a strong believer of something and when they believe in something so strongly, then start spreading out the same. They call them Ideals, and these ideals derive from any random idea just like an idea of creating human being in Mr. Gods mind and this is second thing that after the Mr. God could not come up with any other idea. Now if we look at the hierarchical structure then we come to know that Ideologist is the subset of Ideology, ideology is the subset of Idealist, Idealist is the subset of Ideals, and these ideals are the subset of “An Idea.”

Idea, a very small and simple thing which gave birth to this complex hierarchy and we, human being stopped thinking idea, we try to live our lives based on ideals, ideologies however not on idea, which is the mother of all. Imagine a life on simple ideas not on ideals or ideologies. An idea always comes free and open, it got nothing to do with anything, however when we human being start trying to fit into the hierarchy then we add complexities, limitations and finally conflicts to it.

Look around and try to see for the reason, for which the world is fighting with each other, what is that? It is not Idea, its ideology, it’s not Idealist, it’s Ideologist. No matter what but the whole world is divided into two type of human being, one is idealist and the other one is Ideologist.

Idealist thinks for an idea, come up with ideals and then with ideology after that the very common people appears and becomes ideologist. However, to get the gist from that particular ideology is sometime not possible for them but still being a follower is prominent quality of human being. An Ideologist never thinks about the root and always try to cut leafs and branches and in our world most people are ideologist not the idealist. They advocate the ideology, which they think is good enough and always ready to fight and even to kill anyone for the same.

The ideologists of Socialism, Capitalism, Communism, Hinduism, Islamism, Christianity  and many more  played down the game of war and terror since ages and for what reason, just to save the ones ideology but not the idea…….Really….What an Idea Sir-ji….

I Love You

…I Love You…

Six years gone, and I was back to Dilli, which had been second love of my life. What’s more - I left my first love 6 years ago somewhere in the streets of this beautiful witty city. Held by the feeling of butterflies inside my stomach, now I wait to see the old face that must have changed to an extent in the gust of time. Again, in the streets of this city, it felt a lost dream re-appeared to my sight all again, so clear. While away, I always wished to live my entire life over here and even drawing my last breath here only. The spell of thoughts and dreams were soon arrested by sudden halt of taxi before the gate of AIIMS. I am Lilyan Kaur, a doctor from US who is back to her own land.

I paid taxi fare and walked through the gates with luggage bag following, rolling over the ground. Soon I was given a residence within the walls of institute. From the window of bedroom, hospital was under the reach of my sight. In settling down when the day began to bid adieu far somewhere in west. Draped in shawl I sat down on bed and soon remembrance of Jignesh came over as though they had been waiting for me, at the brink of my heart, to be alone.

Jignesh, born in orthodox Gujarati family, brought up in Dilli was more Haryanvi than being a Gujju. A complete hardcore ‘Dilli Ka Chora’ and was the most roguish boy in school. He used to spend most of his time standing outside the classroom in the form of punishment. Even so, he never conceived of it as punishment, indeed an opportunity. Whenever he had been asked to get out from the class an impish smile would always appear at his face as though feeling proud on deeds he preformed that helped him in serving the purpose.

 For most of teachers, he was a sort of terror as he was an all-rounder student or it would be better to say a gifted boy. He always used to get first or second rank in everything. He had both, good as well as bad name in school. Every girl was jealous of him but somewhere, they all wanted to be with him and I was one of them. Being in the toppers list was also my trait and would always pay full concentration in the class, but still I could not beat him even once. Whatever rank I would get in my class, I always found myself a rank below him. Even at times, I thought it was a conspiracy of god who wanted to keep me a step behind from him. Once when I was in 10th STD, there were half yearly exams and Jignesh had performed well below from his reputation. He could only manage to seize sixth rank in the class and I was sure that this time I would beat this crappy gujju guy but as matter of surprise and fate, I got seventh rank, just after him. When it was announced in the class all eyes were on us as we used to belong to the list of toppers and suddenly we both fell out from that list together and that day I realized that our fate had some remote connection with each other.

And, I became first and the only female friend of him. After school, he stayed in Dilli and I went to US to become a Doctor. Nevertheless, we parted without any promises of keeping in touch and tears. When I set forth, I had no feelings for him, we were just friends but in the course of my studies, whenever I came across any man, I would always put him forth and compare with Jignesh and could not find at par to him. My definition of perfection was living somewhere in Dilli with Jignesh. Once again, being in Dilli and thinking about him rendered a sense of his intimacy. I wanted to meet him but no one had any clue of him, it seemed he was disappeared from this world. I decided to set out my quest for him from next day.

At 8:00 PM, I went to Canteen for dinner and there I met an on-duty matron, she was also having dinner out there. So friendly in nature she offered me a tour of whole hospital. Nevertheless, I only asked her to show me the Neurology department, as I was a Neurologist. After dinner, we strolled down to a pathway, which led us to Neurology department. She told about the cases, which would normally strike the hospital. She showed up the process and kind of treatment that AIIMS provide.

 After strolling down from 2 or 3 wards, I asked her, “What about the critical cases of Neurology?”

She took a sigh and replied, “Most critical cases are not normal, they are sort of learning for our doctors as well, our doctors discuss their case history with other doctors who are somehow associated with AIIMS.”

She stopped saying and after couple of thoughtful moments continued, “As you are Neurologist, let me show you the most awful and different kind of case.”

She guided me to a room where a patient was laid on bed as if dead and the beep sound from life supporting machines was the sound that had been incessantly fighting with prevailed silence. We entered the room and Matron recounted, “This patient has a very different case. His body is healthy like anything but somehow his brain is dying a very slow death. We could say he is in comma but in reality his subconscious has taken over his conscious mind and he is in sort of dreams all the time.”

I asked, “Since how long he is in such condition?”

Matron replied, “Almost a year, even more. When he was first taken here it wasn’t an exceptional case but with the course of time he started getting worse.”

I stepped towards bed and grabbed the case history that was attached to it. I did not bother to see his face since my concern was his case history. The first thing I read was the name of patient, “Jignesh Patel.”

The name came to me as hammer on my head. Case history dropped from my hands and the noise produced by it over took sound coherent beeps. I quickly rushed to the bed to see his face and I found my definition of perfection, my love, my feeling, my quest, my destiny lying there with wrinkles. Tears rolled out of my eyes, and stopped at the brink of eyelashes and it glazed my vision. I could not see him distinctly but soon, when I quickly wiped out brimming tears from lashes, I felt as if losing the ground, my feet had lost potency to stand. I took support of bed, and sat down on a chair, placed next to bed.

Matron perpetually looked at me and when I faced her, she asked, “You know him?”

I said, “yes, he is my……he was my classmate when we were in school.”

Matron stood still as though contemplating something and indeed, underneath her grey hair something was running. After mulling over for couple of moments, “If you want you can be here, after all this is your department.” She said with smile, picked up case history from floor, and slipped into my hands.

I kept looking at Jignesh. His chest was rising and falling with each breath.

‘I have never had experienced such feelings for him, yet I longed for him. He had always occupied my mind out there in US but not such feeling. I always envied him for being one-step ahead of me in everything and here, when I am back, he is still a step ahead, lying before me, feeling proud all again. He was a sweet pain and now when I desired to share the same, he is not ready to listen to anything at all.’

I leaned over him and said, “You are still the same crappy and witty guy, you only think about your happiness, you don’t care about anyone. You are the most selfish man I have ever seen. Even here in AIIMS, you have reached before me. Will you ever allow me to beat you just at once?” I went on with tears rolling down my cheeks, “Can’t you wait for me to arrive and allow me to share my feelings for you, how much I missed you in those years. I know you were frightened that this time I would be a step ahead that is the reason you turned to the bed... yet, you are still the same, just like school days, and there you never listened to anyone and same thing you are doing here lying before me on bed and not even listening to my single word. How could you be this much selfish?”

I held his dry dead looking hand. It was cold. I could sense his slow pulse. I took his hand to my cheek, closed my eyes, and felt solace in his touch. I have stopped crying and soon tears also vanished but they left behind their impression. They were like grimes on my face and I slowly sponged that grime with his warm hand. When eyes were closed, I realized I was really crying for someone who never played a prominent role in my life although always made me feel agitated and lastly made me cry just because I loved him stupidly and that too without knowing it. Subtle traces turned into love in the years while I was away and now I could not even get a answer if I would ask him.

Whole night I wept and talked to him. I laughed with tears, my lips turned out salty in taste I could feel it, my eyes got swollen and the skin of my face was stretched out due to tears grime, and my heart felt so heavy filled with emotions. I wished for him to open the eyes. I longed for his gaze, just for once. Whole night I held his hand.

Lastly, a moment arrived when I kissed his dry lips for a couple of moments and turned away. Within a second I heard a husky voice, “Lilyan, Your lips are very salty,” and Jignesh was looking at me with nearly opened eyes. His face looked pale. I quickly hugged him and smiled with glazed eyes.

 He slowly said, “I am still ahead of you, just like past days you followed me and reached here”

I replied, “I hate you for this.”

Jignesh tried to laugh with his shivering cheeks but could not and rather I laughed for him.

Jignesh mumbled, “I never knew why I was alive in my heart and dead in my brain, for what my soul and destiny were waiting, but when your salty lips touched me, it seemed as though I got over with destiny, life and death. I missed you even in my dreams.” and suddenly stopped saying. An impish smile came over his face just like school days and then I leaned over, put my hand on his chest. Now When I opened my mouth to say my heart, a long beep appeared in the silence of the room I looked at the monitor screen. The lifeline of Jignesh turned out flattened and I sensed the last beat of his heart on my hand and with that beat, the last words came out of my mouth with wide-open eyes, “I love you…” and I found a monitor cable twisted in his dead fingers. Perhaps, his life resided in his own hands and waited for my mere presence or maybe it was his last wish.