Late

Perhaps its too ''late'' to write this story but however dark be the cloud there is always a ''late'' lining. I am going to narrate an incident which exemplifies exactly that.


Jogging my memory at a cheetah's pace to back in the day a few years ago, it was a ''late'' December evening when I had called her and called her ''late''. I then had a good night's sleep and then disaster struck like a chain reaction.

• The alarm rang ''late''

• I got up ''late''

• Approached the bathroom to brush my teeth, take a bath, drink some milk and head to the meeting rendezvous but I had forgotten to get the soap, paste and milk the previous day.

• I sashayed across to the corner shop. It was shut & the shopkeeper was ''late''.

• I didn't brush, didn't take bath, didn't drink milk. My phone's battery battery was down, the electricity wasnt there & it was supposed to come back on ''late''

• I hurriedly put on my clothes & witht the rickety battery I had, I left the house ''late''

• Tried kick-starting the motorbike but it didn't start, had to push it all the way across to the petrol station. Petrol station had a long queue & everyone seemed ''late''

• I said fuck it, parked my motorbike in a parking lot right there, decided to call the cab and the goddamn cab company executives picked up their phone ''late''

• Now having waited ages for them to pick the call, they now said there was some cab strike

• I tried to flag rickshaws, they were either full or the empty ones cane ''late'' and when asked to drive me to the destination the common reply was 'no sir, I don't go there' or just a nod to say no

• I cursed fuck em and hitched a ride on a jam-packed bus filled with people, The stench of human perspiration was choking my breath. However the bus stopped in all stops situated a few metres apart from each other whilst taking a long route. I couldn't get out due to the immense crowd. The bus finally reached the destination, but reached ''late''

• When i reached my destination thoroughly drenched with sweat and exhausted to the core. I found the seat empty and she wasn't there. I thought she was pissed with me and left. With the remaining little battery I had on my phone, I called her bracing for the angry impact for calling her ''late''

• She picked up the call and said ''Sorry kats, I might be LATE''.

The Letter

Based on a true story ....

The drops of rain relentlessly battered the glass windows & the tin roof, a constant symphony & cacophony alike. Water slowly seeping down made the world look slow & trippy, like the desert heat melting away & the sweet aroma of wet mud adding that phantasmagoria in him. Sat next to the window was he looking at the rain. The rain was wasting its time trying to ebb his thinking off his wandering fascination. If you traced a way through his lost eyes into his skull & inside that sticky, slimy grey matter you'd know that today was the day of happiness. A day he'd been waiting for all month. The day he'd get a glimpse of a different world, the day the letter would arrive.

He was quite young for his age, in the initial phases of adolescence. Incarcerated within high walls & more so within the strict rules of the residential school.. he was after all another dog in the manger. Life was as tough as it was exciting. It had been months since he'd been out of those high walls. The last time he'd jumped to watch a movie & he got caught. As a punishment, his head was shaved, his food rationed & all his leave cancelled for the whole year. The only salvation for him now would be a taste of the outside world.. a glimpse of his angel. Of his best friend who stayed very far away from him & yet strangely enough, was wandering in his heart & thoughts all day long. The helping hand when he'd lost a battle. The lending invisible shoulder when he felt asleep, the divine fingers that shut his eye every time a single tear dripped past his cheeks. She'd promised to write him like she did all the time & today was the day that letter would arrive. His thoughts were thus indeed elsewhere.

Through the window of his barracks, through the foggy glass & the pelting rain, he could make out the familiar brown shadow. Someone cycling down the road towards him. For once he knew that it would be postman chacha. Bursting with exuberism & excitement he bolted towards the entrance, only to find the school bully on the cycle with his letter in hand teasing him & cycling away at speed. It was then he ran, he ran in the rain dripping wet. His shoes & toes not caring about squishing any puddles or any frogs around. His heart racing faster than his fit of rage & his legs synchronising with his anger. He managed to catch up with the bully & he fought tooth & nail with the bully, punching, kicking, biting, scratching wherever possible. After a bitter battle of raining blow after blow & bruises all over his face he managed to win the battle while the bully fled.

As he looked down the road, the letter was shred to pieces by the bully & lying on the wet road scattered. He took his time, gathered each bit piece by piece. Took the letter & dressed it even before dressing his own wounds. It hurt like hell but yet he pieced the letter together like a jigsaw puzzle. Bit by bit joined by tape. The joy of reading that letter was far greater than the pain endured for possessing it. He smiled & tears streamed down his face, as relentlessly & as mercilessly as the rain.

The world outside is white & looks like a ghostly blanket in the glory of the moon's radiance. The tufts of snow slowly floating around the window sending me into a perpetual haze. It's a much better world now where everything's fair, where there is no wall to stop me or no rules to refrain me. In my hand is that devastated sheet of a letter. I can still smell the fragrance of her on it. Rivulets of tears are slowly streaming down my cheeks as mercilessly as the prevailing cold & snow, the memories cloud my head. I wonder whose invisible fingers will I see now.

Love at last sight

I looked at my watch once again. It's been 25 minutes and she's late again… as usual. The best friend whom I had known for over 15 years now. We played together as kids, went to the same school and even the same college. I never had to search for a new friend my whole lifetime. Human heart is so weak for I don't remember when I started having feelings for her. But she never saw me that way and I didn't have the courage to speak my heart out. If there is anything that I have hidden from her, then it is the fact that I have fallen in love with her. This is the last time I would be seeing her for atleast the next few years. Tomorrow she's going to US for MS and I would be doing my MBA here. I am adamant of not going to see her off at the airport tomorrow because I am afraid that I could breakdown in front of her. That's why we fixed a meeting at the railway station. I am still confused whether I should tell her that I love her before she leaves the country. Will that bring an end to our friendship?

Another local train has arrived. I got up from the bench and did a quick scan for her in the crowd. "Looking for someone?" a soft voice said from behind. I turned around and it was her; I just smiled. We sat down at the bench and looked into each other's eyes. She was looking more beautiful than usual. When someone is always with you, you never realise the importance of that person. You only realise it only when he/she goes away from your life. "Why are you so quiet?" she said slowly touching my shoulders. "Don't go" I said. She kept quiet. I know that even she doesn't want me to leave me and go. If it hurts for me, it would hurt for her too. But the difference is it hurts for her because I am her best friend, not because she loves me. "I am sorry" I continued "That was a stupid thing to say. I know you have to leave tomorrow". "You have anything to say to me?" she asked lifting her head looking straight into my eye. Sometimes that soft voice and the innocent look makes me blurt out the truth. But I need to restrain myself from any such step for I could lose her forever. All I could reply was "Come back soon". "Anything else?" she asked again. "No" I replied still half minded to tell her how much I love her. She left out a deep sigh and fell silent again.

Did she want me to say anything else?I didn't realise it then, but its been 5 minutes and we hadn't uttered another word. Another local train arrived at the station; its horn cutting though the silence. "I should be going now, there is lot left to pack" she got up suddenly and hurriedly walked towards the train. It took me a few seconds the regain composure. As she rushed to catch the train, hundreds of thoughts flickered through my mind. 15 years of friendship and this is how you depart? Leave alone a hug, not even a good bye? Has she completely forgotten my feeling in the dreams of US life? Not even a single tear? When did she become so stone cold? All she is worried about is her bloody packing.The train blew another horn as a signal to depart as she entered the train. She slowly turned and looked at where I was sitting as the train started moving. That's when I saw her eyes; it was as red as coal, wet from the tears streaming down her smooth cheeks. From her eyes I could read it; she loves me. Damn you idiot, why didn't you propose her? I don't know much about reflex action, but before I knew I was running hard to get into the train which was now picking up speed.

To this day I don't know why I ran behind the train; after all I could have called her on her mobile. Maybe I wanted to be physically present during the most romantic moment of my life. A policeman blew his whistle seeing me trying to get into the speeding train. But I could hear or see nothing. All I could see was her looking at me in amazement from the footboard of the train.The last bogie of the train would pass me any moment and so would my last chance to get into the train. I have jumped into speeding train during all my four years of college, but into a train moving this pace was something never attempted before. But this was no time to equate speed and velocity as I jumped and grabbed the handle bar… or so I thought.

I had seen in Discovery channel how you don't remember some event because your brain fails to register something that happened so quickly. I got up from where I had fell, unhurt and wondering how the hell I got here. But then I noticed the train was slowing down and then came to a complete stop at a distance. Maybe it didn't have the signal. Tears of happiness streaked down as I was sure she would get down the train. I climbed on the platform and ran hurriedly towards the train. This is very romantic I thought; typical bollywood movie where the Shahrukh khan and Kajol running towards each other at the railway station in the climax. Coming back to reality, all I could say was "What the hell?". It wasn't her alone who was running towards me, there was a whole crowd of passengers rushing to where I stood and between them I spotted her; completely pale like she is in some kind of shock.

That's when I looked behind and noticed a crowd at the platform gathered a few meters behind and looking down at the tracks. Oh my God… the train has hit someone and that's why the train has stopped; so the whistle of policeman was not for me after all. I didn't dare to look at the tracks coz the sight of blood makes me puke. I ran towards her panting and said "I love you". But she didn't respond and kept walking with the crowd. "You idiot!" I said to myself. I was so ashamed; some guy has just died and she is definitely terrified by the whole thing. Since she was watching me when I was running with the train, probably she had also seen the guy get hit. You have ruined the best moment of your life, a voice told me from inside. If only I had told her this after she had recovered from the shock. The way she reacted when I proposed, I felt she was too disturbed that she even heard it.

Anyway I jogged back and walked silently near her as she walked to the spot of accident. I was thinking whether to put an arm around her but decided to leave her alone. Just in case she did hear me propose, it's better not to say another word or touch her until she speaks first. She made her way through the crowd and I quietly followed behind. Ehw… is she really planning to see the dead body? When did she become so brave? I could smell fresh blood and I didn't dare to lean & look down. She slowly advanced forward to the verge of the platform and held the shoulders of a lady who was also looking at the body. Well, she caught a strangers hand and not mine. This meant she did hear me propose and the answer was definitely a big NO. I bit my lips with broken heart as I watched her slowly lean over the platform. Suddenly she fell backward on her knees and started brawling like a kid. She hanged on to the saree of the stranger and the lady tried to console her.

I wanted to help her back on the knees, but she was already receiving too much attention from strangers around her trying to do the same thing. They helped her on the feet and helped her on the bench. I silently went and sat beside her. A lady gave her water and kept rubbing her back. I knew she was a good girl at heart, but so much emotion was quite embarrassing. I mean it's ok to cry so much if a family member had died, but this was uncalled for. I should have stopped her from having a look at the accident, after all what did she except to see; a circus? She was still crying in the arms of the lady and still in a state of shock. People were still gathered around him and I could hear murmurs of how stupid it was for him to try and catch a running train. I then realised that it could have easily been me. I thanked God for keeping me alive, but felt bad for the guy who wasn't as lucky as me. Should I go and see it for myself? Maybe I should, otherwise I would never know how she feels at this time. I got up from the bench and slowly walked forward mentally preparing myself for the gross sight. I blinked my eyes, clenched my fist hard and let out a heavy sigh as I prepared for the first look. Slowly I leaned forward and looked down. My world was turned upside down as I saw the motionless body. I got to see the face of the dead man. I'd seen my own face, dead as a rock. !!!

_________________________

The Secret

The embers of the fireplace were slowly dying down fading from a bright yellow to a dull orange, the night was young & the whisky had its surrreal effect. The group huddled closer to garner the last ounces of heat in the cold night. I took a mighty drag from the Dunhill I'd just lit & passed it on to Bhargav. It was his turn to narrate.

'' The first time I'd met her was at my apartment. She'd knocked on the door & politely asked if I'd got a candle. There was no power for a while & it was pretty dark. I already had a candle lit & under its light I saw her face. She was ethereally beautiful. Those big brown eyes reflecting the wick of the candle, the smile like an angel. At that instant I knew I was in love with her. In the coming days I learnt she had just moved into the next door apartment. Every time I'd want to express my feelings, something held me back. Possessive that I was I kept tabs on her. After college she'd leave on her vehicle at 5 pm everyday & return by 7. She'd be on the terrace with the phone all night, talking to someone. Initially she used to be very happy. However after a few days I'd noticed she had stopped going to the mysterious destination and she'd cry at night. I thought she'd ended an affair & one day gathered enough courage to face her & express my feelings. Maybe she needed a new beginning. However as I was stepping out, I saw the television & my heart skipped a beat. She was on the news, she had disappeared. And from that day on I never saw her again. ''

The Dunhill was passed on to Sajjad who took the drag & narrated his part of the story.

'' I'd met her for the first time in the college library. I was browsing the shelves for a book & when I finally found it, i stretched my hand across to take it out & it came out of its own but in the other direction. And then I saw a pair of eyes looking at me. It was the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen. From that moment on I was infatuated. I got to know she was my junior in college. She was introduced to me by a friend of mine. We were good mates & she spoke a lot but I always felt she had hidden secrets. My infatuation slowly drifted to love when I got to know her more. However her secret made me curious & one day I opened her bag . Inside one of the books lay the key to her mystery. 'A Letter'. She had a secret affair I didnt know of, The letter was pouring with love & wanting. Not one sentence gave out anything about him or mentioned his name. I decided that I'd crack this mystery & one evening I followed her on my vehicle. The mist had covered the mountains & the road was hardly visible. She took a detour off road & hit a rocky path. I had to keep up pace as the distance between us lengthened & after a bend she'd vanished in the mist. I followed the path for as long as it went & the path ended in a cliff. Dejected I headed back. As i entered college the next day people flocked around me & then I got to know she'd disappeared. ''

The cigarette went on to Pinto & as he drew the puff, he narrated his part of the story

'' I used to work part time in the pub doing what I do best, playing the guitar. Of all the people who came there, most came to enjoy the drink & a few who enjoyed the music along with the drink & just one who came in purely for the music. That was when I noticed her. She was reserved, minded her business & didn't touch a drop of drink & yet she was there, day in day out listening to the guitar. Her mere presence made me forget the world around me & took me to a hypnotic euphoria & my music sounded even better. That was when I fell in love with her. I always felt she possessed a secret & that was what brought her here. The last time I saw her was when I was taking the evening jog along the cliff in the mist. She was heading down a rough path which leads to the edge. It used to be my school hangout. A viewpoint & a precipe. I wondered if I should let my feelings known to her that day. But it was just not the occasion, I was knackered by the run & thus I headed back home. She never came to the pub henceforth & that was the last time I saw her. ''

The cold was creeping in with the wind. The stars felt like a million paparazzi taking our photographs. The mist was piling in & we couldn't even see each other's faces. The embers of the flame was dying down & so was the cigarette. It was burnt right till the filter & my part of the story died with the cigarette. However the story lies deep within me & it is as fresh as it used to be years ago. It was something I couldn't tell anyone.

I'd met her at the Archies outlet. I'd gone in to get a gift for my mom's birthday & there she was. The most beautiful girl I'd set my eyes on. At that time I was living off my pocket money from my parents & I had a fraction of it left. With all I had I purchased a greeting card with a beating heart & a rythmic song & by reflex gave it to her. She was impressed & i invited her to my mom's birthday. I didn't even know her name & she didn't know mine. However she came that night, she looked so beautiful that night.. ''Like a Goddess'' I thought. And that night I took her number & we began to talk on the phone. She sounded more beautiful then she looked. The more I got to know her the more I liked her. We'd meet at the cliff edge every evening, watch the sun disappear & that evening I poured my heart out. For one blissful moment I thought everything was lost but the next moment she hugged me. For some reason we kept our relationship a secret. She liked it that way. However she was unhappy about my lady friends & she became possessive. She wanted every second of my time. My freedom was lost & our relationship took a U turn. I stopped talking to her & answering her calls. She then got desperate & slipped a letter under my gate one night. I got hold of the letter before my parents got to know & got a rude shock. She'd threatened me with taking her own life by falling off the cliff the next evening if I didn't meet her.

And that evening was filled with mist & fog hiding the sun behind it. I'd come in earlier, nerves on end about her behaviour. And finally she came. When I saw her I pitied her. Her eyes were dark & she had cried a lot. But my pity turned to anger when she shouted at me, pouring out her suspicions about me & my friends, my life. I couldn't take it any more & I decided to walk away. But she grabbed me by the collar. I pushed her off me & she lost her balance. Before I could grab her she was down the cliff. I heard the scream & the thud. And this was my part of the story.

Monkey Business

Dear Almighty, I look at that shooting star in the sky tonight & wish I were a monkey. We have been living since the forests were thick & the rivers were full. Jumping from tree to tree, tormenting animals that cannot climb & enjoying the creeper ride whilst wishing I remain a monkey.

Up yonder that tall tree, grew plenty of arecanut. The buffalo & gazelle looked on hungrily whilst I made it right to the top with my super hands & feet and gorged the delicacy. I still remember those days when we used to huddle together as a single family, in a single file. My mother used to take off the lice on my back while I used to take of the lice on my sister's. It was so much fun playing hide & seek among the trees, swinging around the creepers.



Wind in my hair & sand on my feet, I used to hop around the woods. Up from my vantage point I could sense the malice of the approaching tiger & warn the gazelle of incoming danger. My tail wriggling back & forth I would rattle the branch to scare the owl away. I would fight my brother with broken twigs & we would then feast on the banana branches. The forest was full of goodies. Right until the arrival of the human being.



When they came the green forests turned grey, what was once our playground, was fenced & we couldnt play anymore. The food decreased as the trees began being cut. My family soon split as the others went far away looking for forests undiscovered by man. I decided to adopt to the changes and started hanging around with the tailless beings like many of my friends.

The food became so scarce that the remaining of us had to cross the fence to satisfy our hunger. The tresspass was not tolerated & my friends started getting killed one by one, either when dogs bit them, or when they were poisoned or when they were shot. What they worshiiped as their God were being hopelessly massacred. I had once stared down the barrel of that gun, but before he could fire, I ran away & hid in the forest.



I have no one to play with now & no food left in the forest. & so Dear Almighty I now look at the setting sun and wish I were not a monkey.




P.S. - In memory & support of all those monkeys being mercilessly killed in the malnad region by heartless cold blooded farmers.

Camouflage

Deep in the dark misty woods of the malnad mountains along the western ghats, situated on the west coast of India, there resides a plethora of animals. From the smallest to the biggest.

Each has its own way of survival. In this cruel world of green, there exists no rules of engagement & therefore no rooms for error, no points for second place & quite rightly as charles Darwin states 'Survival of the fittest' is absulutely necessary. The inhabitants of the forest are by themselves divided into two basic categories.

1. Predator

2. Prey

From a survival point of view, one has to be either fast in the game or one has to be clever, or the game is up. In this post I am going to have a wee chatter about the clever group. We have a few clever specimen with us right here in this post.



The first contender in this competition is the stick cricket, something what I personally call as the ''branch boy''. This perticular species has a remarkable ability to use the mighty deception called camouflage. An art which was copied by almost all armies & whose colourful costumes are sported by the most ruthless of dictators and the most exotic of dancers. By naturally being so thin & by possessing the colour of a twig, this clever whippersnapper masquerades as a twig for as long as he can hoodwink the potnetial prey into presuming that he is indeed a twig. And as soon as he gets the chance he hunts with top speed.



The second contender shown above is the ''colourless butterly'', I personally nicknamed him 'the swamp thing' by his colourless looks and his ability to copy the background in such a way that he appears invisible to the untrained eye. However he settles down in his new surrounding quite comfortably with the imperative knowledge that neither predator nor prey can spot him. Right until the moment the unsuspecting prey walks onto him, & he grabs them & its within his grasp in a second.



The next contender is the twig grasshopper whom I personally call the ''Green Beret''. By looking like the branch and leaves of a plant, he silently makes his way behind enemy lines without being spotted by predators casting evil eyes. The plant in itself with its twig & leaves is a source of food to many insect species like the butterfly, the beetle & the ant. Little do they know that the twig they are standing or walking on is the predator itself who at the first opportunity blows his cover & ambushes his prey with superatural speed.



However clever these contenders be, there is a special contender who has survived for a squillion years with his ruthless cunning & deceptive looks. He's none other than the Calote. I call him ''Rambo''. Although he looks like a dinasaur, he is far smaller in size. His tiny body is made up of many many colourful scales that imitate the branch of a tree. With strong limbs and a stronger tail, he can virtually traverse in any direction including downright vertical. His earlobes are invisible but some of the sharpest and its got a special feature of vibration recognition which many predators and prey dont possess. The 3 above contenders think they are the boss & are pretty overconfident about their deception, while our Rambo has already seen through their deception in seconds & combined with his own deception, hoodwinks them into thinking they are safe. With a quick microsecond lap of his sticky tongue, he gulps his prey in no time & wins the contest by a mile.

& therefore its upto you folks to decide whos the winner because I already have.

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.’