Remorse

There are a few misconceptions people have over others & point it out across to other people being too impatient & daft without even realising that they themselves are on the wrong track and they were wrong all along and others were right. But by the time they realise & attempt to redeem what wrong they’ve done, what hurt they’ve caused, it’s too late. I don’t know why I’m penning this thoughts down in this post, I somehow felt like from deep within, perhaps in an attempt to redeem the hurt I’ve caused to others. Turning the clock anticlockwise some thousands of revolutions backwards in time, I can remember a time when I did something really daft & by the time I realised that it was too late. But it taught me a valuable lesson in life, A lesson which turned the course of my life. Something I can never ever forget and I would like to share this with you folks.

I was a kid back then, in a constant process of learning. I come from an armed forces background. With my father in the Indian Air Force, he used to frequently keep getting transferred across the length & breath of the country. And with that I was forced to abandon my home, my school, my friends and everything that I loved & felt a belonging to. To top it all I had no sibling with whom I could share my happiness, sorrows, fears & jokes. This was one such occasion. We were taking the train to our new destination with all our earthly belongings. We were supposed to be travelling second class 3 tier sleepers with 3 berths on either side of a compartment within a compartment. As the train arrived, due to the rush & to our dismay the reservation was such that my parents were in one compartment & me in another compartment. I felt happy to be free & make myself some new friends and enjoy some terrific views across the window.

It was night by the time I boarded the train & everyone else who came from the previous stations were sleeping. I was given the lowest berth on one side, I showed my ticket to the ticket collector & slept closing the window, resting my head on my wee bag and covering myself with a thin bed sheet. The journey was a couple of days long. So the next day as I got up, I could see that there were an elderly Punjabi couple sitting in front of me and a scattering of a few other old villagers across the sides & upfront. The Punjabi man in front of me looked tall & powerfully built with a trimmed beard. I greeted them and introduced myself to Mr & Mrs Singh. Mr Singh appeared to be sitting cross legged on the berth with a shawl over his legs and Mrs Singh was lying next to him laying her head on Mr Singh’s thighs. They asked all about me and we had a refreshing chat. By their behaviour they appeared to be quite posh. It seems Mrs Singh was very sick & diagnosed with cancer & they were taking her to a certain town for chemotherapy.

As I looked out the window, the wind blew at my face and the trees swished past at great speed, but after time the trees seemed to be swishing slower & the wind blowing lesser lesser in intensity. And finally I could hear hooting & the train arrived at a station. As the train halted, Mr Singh asked me ‘Beta Kartik, Can you please get us 2 cups of tea from the station stall, here is the money. I smiled, obliged and quickly dashed across the platform & got them the tea. And so the train began chugging again & things were uneventful until the arrival of the next station. Yet again Mr Singh tapped me on the shoulder and asked me ‘Beta Kartik, Here is some money. Can you please get us a bottle of mineral water and some biscuits? ‘I obliged yet again nodding my head, dashed across to the platform and got what they wanted. And the train chugged again and everything remained uneventful until the next station arrived. Mr Singh tapped me on the shoulder & asked me ‘Beta Kartik, Can you please get us some breakfast from her station stall, here is some money. ‘With a hint of irritation at being used again & again I unwillingly obliged & dashed across the platform and got them what they wanted.

The train chugged on and the trees swished past again, I was lost in dreams and my reverie was disturbed by the tapping of Mr Singh, he said ‘Beta Kartik, the next station ahs arrived, can you please get me a newspaper, here is some money’. I was obviously irritated this time round. Why was I treated like a servant, why was I being made the scapegoat? Could I not enjoy the train journey without hopping across the platform at every stop? This time my anger took the better of me & I confronted the elderly man and told him upfront ‘What do you think I am? Your servant? Every station that comes, you ask me to get something or the other. I am not going this time. You look so strong & well built. Why don’t you go get the things yourself? Shame on you that you are using innocent kids like me for doing your jobs.’ By the time the other passengers questioned Mr Singh & reminded him to leave me alone as they were observing all this for quite a long time.

At this juncture the train had blown the whistle & started chugging on, Mr Singh was taken aback with my frankness & made a sad face & looked at me in the eye and asked me. ‘Do you really want to know why I was asking you to get stuff for me?’ I retorted ‘Yes indeed, I would definitely demand an explanation’. He then opened the shawl he was covering his legs on & I got the shock of my life. There were no legs. Both his legs were amputated up to the thigh. I was taken so aback that I was shocked. He then began narrating something I can never ever forget. ‘Son, I was a major in the army. And in the war in 1973 as I was leading my platoon to enemy occupied territory amidst heavy artillery shelling & firing, I stepped on a landmine and it ripped my legs apart and they had to amputate my legs to save my life. I am glad I am alive. My son lost his life while fighting terrorists in Kashmir. If I had my legs son, I would have gone to get the things myself and had my son been alive, he would have got it for me and I thought you were like my son.’ Saying this he hugged Mrs Singh & both of them began to cry’. I was taken aback, tears streaming down my face I begged them for an apology. And surprisingly after all I had done he apologised me & hugged me. We felt like one family, one blood, one caste, one religion as proud countrymen of our motherland. He then said ‘Son, we have sacrificed a lot because the country comes first for us above family, above religion, above caste and even above our own mothers. I hope your generation keeps up the esteem of our nation & let her flag run high and proud because son, if there is one mother above all mothers, its our motherland. Azad Hind.’