-
I drew a sharp breath as I dipped my pen in the ink for the 50th time . I stared at the blank paper and it stared back. As I kept my pen down , my thoughts wandered yet again-
I could hear the silent cry and drop of tear , far away somewhere, of the newborn upon just becoming  an orphan  , the sister upon her last ‘rakhi’ , the mother upon the loss of her only son. At a time where everybody was loosing , who was to gain?
My wet eyes brought me back , I stood up from my desk and walked out to sit on the front porch. I looked up to the sky which was on the brink of a storm.I picked up my copy of ‘Mahratta’ and opened up to the front page. The headlines greeted me with nothing but disappointment.  It read-
“The Amritsar Massacre. Darkest Stain Of British Rule. 370 Dead and 1200 Wounded”
To look at it another second was unbearable. Loss was’nt something new to me . Abba gave away his life so that his country could live. Just as we were recovering from his death, news of the Jallianwala Bagh was received. To think that it was a coincidence that Dada was present there at that very moment is insane. Amma sent me with whatever saving we had left to see whether Dada survived. She was sure that her God would not do such injust with her . Somehow she thought Dada was not among the 370 but the 1200. And there was hope, until this morning.
My blood boils when I think of how the British has injured my family. It is a dagger to the heart .A scream of mental pain which hurts more than any physical pain. I am proud of my father and  brother for they were the brave knights of this country who lit the lamps of hope in the dark cavern of those white leeches . And so should think my mother and sister.
I walked back inside as it had started to rain heavily . I went to my desk and this time filled the blank piece of paper-
Dear Amma,
I have reached Amritsar and am well.I am sending a little money with the post. I hope this helps.
I am glad to tell that Dada is now a son of Mother Earth. His friends tell me he died thinking of you. And I have decided to follow Abba and Dada’a paths .
I promise to return only after quenching my thirst of blood. Till Then.
Yours Affectionately,
A Son and a Brother


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Post 370 Era.

-
The historic Constitutional Order that rendered Article 370 and 35A null and void was passed on 5th of August. For seven decades, this 'special status', formed the socio-political identity of the people of Kashmir. But it was never a 'special status', it was only a temporary act meant to lend time to Kashmiris and India to decide the fate of the region and all its people. In theory, removing these acts will allow complete integration of the territories of Jammu and Kashmir into the Indian Union, something which was long overdue. However, those out on the streets beating drums and firing crackers may be celebrating too soon because the real challenges begin now.  NOW, WHAT? When examined thoroughly in the present context, removing the law and creating two UT's from the region are only symbolic measures and do not assure any peace or development. Also, the people of Jammu and Kashmir who are at the center of this issue were blatantly ignored. The move needs to ...
Read more

#ForTheSelfMade

-
People are born not made, but some are not as privileged as the rest or lack something the others may possess. It is when such people rise above the rest on their own that they are called self-made. Self made, meaning to make or perfect oneself according to one's own will. True? False. Being self made requires so much more. It requires the knowledge to know your own self, to jump into the deep oblivion of your heart and brain and solve the mysteries inside of you. To conquer oneself, before conquering the world. It is to be philanthropic without letting it seem so. To be kind to your juniors and all around you without letting it get to your head. It is to watch your whole world crumble down in front of your eyes, but without as much as making a sound, building it up again without losing hope. It is to trust oneself when all else doubt you. If you can make it to the top after meeting with disasters and still call the ride to be the part because of what it taught you. ...
Read more

The Book Of Memories.

-
I pulled the last box out of the rusty mover’s truck and turned around to make my way upstairs. The stairs that led me to my new apartment were, to sugar-coat it, “dingy.” It was a Victorian-style building that was clearly a hundred years old. It was well lived in, by many old officials of the British army. Later, due to a shortage of space in the city, these apartments were rented out as smaller spaces for much cheaper prices. Anyway, I had no right to complain. I mean I was getting all this for peanuts. Sure it’s not luxurious but it fits my budget and has all the necessities. I reached upstairs to find the movers’ driver standing outside with the door ajar. He helped me stack the last box on top of the rest and stood with his hands on his hips. Are we supposed to tip? I mean, what the hell’s service tax for? He huffed and so I placed a couple of dollars on his palm that he had very demandingly brought out. He huffed again, disappointed, turned around and left, banging the door b...
Read more