Photo credit - Asha Dimri
He
waved a goodbye to his family as he left for the war. But then before entering
the train he walked back to his family. Goodbye becomes tougher when you are
not sure it’s not the last one.
He tried hard to conceal his pain as he
lifted his daughter and kissed her.
“Daddy, why is mumma crying?” she asked as he put her down.
“She
will miss me.”
“Tell
her you will come back soon and then we will stay together. Forever.” her brown
eyes twinkled with hope.
Forever…
the word lingered in the air, the weight of that word was so much that he couldn't reply.
“Promise?”
she asked.
“Promise”
He forced a smile and walked towards his wife.
“You
promised me you will be strong.” He took her hand in his.
“It’s
not easy but I am trying.” She couldn’t make it any more than a whisper.
They
hugged before he got into the train. He wished the time to stop then and there,
he wanted to spend some more time with her daughter, get amazed by her crazy
talks, be with his wife and enjoy all the caring, be with his mother and
support her through her last days but alas this wasn’t his destiny. Warfield
was waiting for him with uncountable struggles.
He
waved them as long as he could see them, and long after that. He wondered what
his daughter must be talking about; moon or stars or dolls or fairies? He
imagined his wife smiling at her crazy stories, imagined his mother singing
lullabies to her daughter. For he knew
Imagination was the only place he could meet them; at least for a long time to
come. Or forever?
He
fought bravely for his country, for people he didn’t knew, for you, for me, for
people who were not connected to him but still connected. But then one day in
the war field, a small bullet robbed him of his big dreams.
And
as his heartbeats slowed down…
The
last sound he heard was the deafening noise of bombs and bullets…and then a
dead silence in which echoed the sweet voice of his little princess…promise…
The
last sight he saw was of countless dead bodies, smoke and dust….and then it all
vanished…he saw her daughter running towards him, her favorite doll still in
her hand.
The
last touch he felt…of bullet… and once again he drifted towards
imagination…touch of her tender hug… and with it he lost the touch of a desire
to be with his family forever…forever…
Forever…
the word reverberated as he closed his eyes, for the last time.
Death
of a soldier is not a single death, it is death of a mother, a father, a
sister, a wife, a child, it is death of a family, of uncountable dreams,
thousand unmet promises and infinite hopes. A life goes out and a body returns;
the pain is unfathomable, his family was a partner in his bravery and his
sacrifices. Family of a soldier deserves a salute as well.
“Mumma,
why papa is sleeping, why is he not talking to me?” the little princess asked
when the dead body came home, unaware of what she has lost.
Mumma
had no reply for her painfully innocent questions; her questions only led mumma
to cry louder.
Did
I say something wrong? She wondered “I am sorry mumma, why are you crying? Actually
it is good, he is sleeping so now he won’t go back. He will stay with me
forever.” she pained mumma further in lieu of comforting her.
It
would be long before she would understand that all her dreams to spend a life
with her father were unreal, when she would see other children her age sitting
on their dad’s shoulder she would just look around searching for her lost
father. But…He was gone. Forever? The word was same but the meaning it carried
was not, it transformed completely; from hope to pain and dreams to emptiness.
But
in spite of all the diversity it entailed forever was not a fake word. He was
gone and not yet gone. He lived forever in memories of his loved ones and in the
freedom we are proud of.
