A Letter for Dead

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: War and Military  |  House: Booksie Classic
I still don’t understand what he got by sacrificing himself and his family. The war is inevitable. They will rise again; again someone will sacrifice himself and his family. And again we will honor him by our cold hearted love. Will this “Paramveer Chakra” give protection to his family, or; they will have to again fight for their rights? Can this “21-guns” bless their children, or will take their entire childhood? I don’t know.

Submitted: February 22, 2015

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Submitted: February 22, 2015

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A Letter for Dead

 

By-

Jayant R. Gupta

mechjayant@gmail.com

 

Verge on 300 people have gathered here for condolence. This instant is not of happiness, but against this odd, there is some noise coming from corners of all around. People are talking on their personal sensible, and also somehow and somewhat about the Major, ‘Major Vikram Singh Rathod’, a Major in the Indian Army.

Before just one month from now, he sacrificed himself in the name of his nation, his mother land. That war was against the Pakistan. He was not the only one who martyr at that day. Lots of mutual warriors were also died, hundreds were butchered but we remember only key players.  

I know about him somewhat. Major ‘Rathod’ was my neighbor. He was a fine neighbor; actually his wife and children is my neighbor. He was just a guest for his house. Rarely did he come for his family; almost he spent his time on battle field, on the name of mother land but unwillingly for corrupt politics. That was great for nation, for politics, for speeches; but I don’t think it was good for his family.

 

He was honored by “Paramveer Chakra” which is a true sign of valor and sacrifice, and “21-gun salute”. He deserved that. He deserved everything that he didn’t get.

 I got news that; he was shot by a Pakistani officer.

What was the name? Yeah, I got it. It was ‘Shabbir Ahmed’.

 

After two minute of silence for the peace of dead’s soul, everyone who was closely related to major, are saying some words about him. People are saying some truth, some lies. They want to astonish the death body by their blank words, their empty feelings. And his wife, she is sobbing endlessly.  I can see her, her eyes, full of complaints. Why doesn’t she have complaints, she had responsibility of two children. I can see her daughter, I think ten year old. But this incident will make her pretty old, more than ever, at the level of that she should not has to. I can see a two year old boy, unknown from the situation. Still he is staring at his father’s photo. Major is looking more handsome in the photo, I think the battlefield took his beauty and made him beast.

I still don’t understand what he got by sacrificing himself and his family. The war is inevitable. They will rise again; again someone will sacrifice himself and his family. And again we will honor him by our cold hearted love.  Will this “Paramveer Chakra” give protection to his family, or; they will have to again fight for their rights?  Can this “21-guns” bless their children, or will take their entire childhood? I don’t know.

At that time a man, I don’t know, who that is but he is very formal, but he is not from Army. That man is very conscious about the situation; he is talking with the stage man, and now stepping up the stage. He has a piece of paper, Oh! It is a letter. He is opening the letter.

It is almost two pages long. Clearly he is a very close person. Actually he prepared a lot for this two minute condolence speech.

Before starting the letter, the man-“This letter is not mine. It has given to me by a friend, who got it from other”. Actually no one knows about this letter. Now I am completely sure that it has come from a very close, so close that letter is more appropriate way of showing grief than self-presence.

 

As words come from his mouth-

 

Dear brother,

I am feeling very proud today. Proud; not because of “Paramveer Chakra”, not because of “21-gun salute”, I am feeling proud because of you. You told me once that you’ll sacrifice yourself for nation, it was your dream and you’ve got it. But there is some gloom because I am not there, for you, for my brother. You know the constraint very well and I hope you’ll understand the situation that made us helpless.

 I am feeling proud of that day on which I met you first. I am proud because I am your best friend. The distance between our places was too much, but it didn’t affect our hearts. “Our relation was deeper than blood, still it is, our friendship”.

I remember that day; we took oath that we will die together for our nation. I remember that way; we were playing with our guns, and you were not dying by ‘bullets of sound’. I remember that words; “I am made of steel, these bullets can’t penetrate me”. These bodies can’t even take a bullet but you were against of thousands, yes. You were right. You are really ‘A Man of Steel’.

 Do you remember? The independence day in school, you got first prize for your poem and I got second. I never understood one thing, there is no difference between us, but you always got the first place. School race, debate, poems or first morsel of Ammi’s food, you got it, you got everything first, like today. You chased your dream and I chased you. I always wanted to be like you, still I want be. But I always content with the second position but today I am not. Today I am feeling like it should be me who martyr first.

Yesterday I was wondering about a man, “Mohhammd Bhai”. Do you remember him?

Yeah, you got it, that seller of sweets.

Yesterday I was eating “Jalebies”, and some old memories, some flashes were on the wing around me. I remember the taste of every single sweet which we had stolen, which we had shared on the name of friendship. Same thing I was eating yesterday but the sweetness of these sweets were not there. I think it is stolen.

Today I am blaming my helplessness. I don’t know, what was the reason of separation? I don’t know what they separated; land or love, you or me. They knew that they can’t separate hearts, love, that’s why they separated land. Was this separation affordable, more than that sweet which we shared, more than that race which I lost, more than Ammi’s love? But they failed, they can’t separate us.

But they made me helpless. They forced me to fight against India, my birth place, my land, my love. They forced me to shoot my brothers, drink their blood. They were watching from their luxurious houses but they haven’t felt the coldness of heart. They were watching news of victory and loss, and we were fighting an unknown war. Hundreds died, from both side of my nation. But they were enjoying cup of tea. They told, history will remember this day. Hmm. They are right actually, people will remember; but only dates, only results, only war; but they will forget the blood, bodies, names, abandoned families.

What we achieved by this wildness? I don’t know, I think some stones or a name which will pronounce only at the day of independence. But what we lost? Families, relations, love.

 

Today, Ammi cooked “Sewai” only and only for you. She didn’t let me even touch it. Whole day, she was sitting in front of your photo but you didn’t eat, not even a morsel. Why? Don’t you like Ammi’s sewai? She was crying and you were watching her like Gods of our heart, but you didn’t give your hand to her. Every time, every time you supported her, then what happened today? Don’t you love her anymore?

Suddenly she stopped the crying, she was smiling. She was very proud of you, more even of me.

Today we’ve lost, but I appreciated. They are appreciating me for unwanted success. But one person is not appreciating me, Ammi, and I know why? She knows very well that today you’ve again won and I’ve lost again.

Now I only want one thing, in next birth to be your brother. I want that our blood will be same like our feelings. Next time we will fight together. We will sacrifice ourselves together. We will lose together and we will win together.

 

With love from your friend

“Shabbir”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


© Copyright 2017 Jayant R. All rights reserved.

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