by Aditi Chandak
Aditi’s story explores how as we take sides in a battle of borders, we often forget that the people with guns also have lives they would want to infuse with love, family, protection and safety. No matter what the side, at the end of the day, isn’t humanity losing out in our senseless battle over man-made ideals? What’s the point of all of it? What’s the point of any of it?
As the sun began to mark the end of its journey for the day, vermillion, saffron, magenta and plum painted the skies turn by turn until the deep blues and blacks took over.
‘I wish you could see the skies today, Chief. They seem to be at their magnificent best,’ I sighed. It was a dark and dingy room, the one window it had was high up, just about right for my tired and resting neck. From my peripheral vision, I figured Chief sat ten feet away, facing a desk, his back towards the window. He could only make out the light dimming and the walls turning blacker and dingier.
‘What’s the point of all of it?’ he said, his voice slurring. ‘What is the point of any of it?’
‘Imagine seeing this sunset with your lover beside you, the warmth of her body swaddling you as the cold breeze starts to set in. Chief, do you hear me?’
‘Uh huh,’ he grunted. ‘So this is when you decide to open up about your love life, you bastard!’
‘I would see her regularly on my patrols. Sometimes, she would be tilling her land, a sleeping kid tied to her back; other times she would be singing to the kid. In the evenings she would make baskets of coir to sell. She’d always greet me with a smile and a funny salute, a mix of a bow and a wave!’ My throat was parched. I waited to swallow a bit of saliva. ‘I asked around about her. She was a single mother. Her husband had abandoned her when she was with child. It must not be easy being a young single mother with a husband alive and kicking but not at her threshold. She seemed gutsy, struggling but brave.’
The other man in the room seemed to have nodded off to sleep. His form was slouching, I noticed from the corner of my eye. ’You have to listen, Chief. Don’t sleep.’ Nothing. ‘Chief… Chief… Chief! ’ I shouted, such a feeble shout– I’d have been ashamed of myself on any other day – but it worked. He grunted awake.
‘Keep talking,’ he told me.
‘I dropped by one day on the pretext of wanting water. And then I dropped by some more. We didn’t talk much at first. I would play with the child for a while, as she kept herself busy stitching, cooking or cleaning. Up close she was pretty too, Chief. Eyes that looked away too fast, a small mouth, pointed chin, her skin tanned but not burnt. She reminded me of Smita Patil.’
And she’d always cook a little something for me. I would request her to not bother but she said she liked doing it, it made her feel that at least someone wanted to be around her. I didn’t have the heart to refuse after that.’
Chief sniggered, ‘Smita Patil and all, huh? No wonder you’re thinking of her.’
‘Now you get it?’ I asked, trying to smile, but my jaw hurt. ‘She came across as resilient. She had stayed her whole life in only two villages, suffered through poverty and abandonment and yet knew more about survival than most people I had met. One day, she told me she wanted to learn to read. Her own child was almost ready for school but she couldn’t afford it. She had attended school but forgotten most things. I was more than happy to help. I spoke to the Doc’s wife, Aalia, who agreed to come over and give classes once in a while.’
‘Ah, so this is the lady Aalia used to go and teach?’ Chief asked.
‘Well, at least I know you’re listening! Keep at it, Chief. Yes, she’s the one,’ I responded.
‘Rumour had it you were in love with the woman.’
‘The rumours almost got to me too!’ I said, managing to let out a few sniggers despite a hurting chest.
‘So you didn’t fall in love with her?’
‘I don’t want to lie now, Chief. I think I did fall in love but I have never admitted it, until now. Would it be fair to her? She’d already suffered for the absence of one husband. Did she really deserve another man who would have been more absent than present?’ I asked. I couldn’t feel my right shoulder. I pulled at the fingers of my right hand but no, nothing.
‘The last time I saw her was also the first time I lied to her – I told her I was being deputed elsewhere. She bawled, right in front of her kid, clinging on to me.’
‘But,’ Chief started.
‘Yeah, I know. I requested the transfer. I was afraid of what would happen to her because of me. She deserves to be loved but by someone who will be around for her. She asked me, ‘Is there no way out?’ and I walked out saying, ‘Why should there be?’ I loathed myself for it, but it had to be done. To her, I am now another man who walked out of her life, another man who let her down. I could see the hatred in her eyes – she didn’t even let me play with her kid one last time.’
‘You’re not as thick-headed as I thought you to be!’ Chief said. If he could, he’d have thumped my back right now.
‘That was during training, Chief. And she did change me. She made me feel like there’s more to life, made me want to be around the kid and her. You were right when you kept telling me to not be so rigid in my thoughts – not everyone can or has to be a part of our battle,’ I admitted. A door banged in the distance.
‘Well, what good has the change done? You’re here with me pining about her when we should be saying our prayers.’
‘We’ll get out of this too, Chief. You know we will,’ I said, wriggling my tied hands again. The right one still didn’t respond.
As footsteps drew closer, I sat upright, my head as far back as it could go, not letting my paining back slouch one bit. I knew Chief must have done the same. The air stood still as we waited. The lights went on at the same time when someone turned my chair around. The lights blinded me and my neck jerked. I saw Chief’s face again or what was left of it. His face was bulbous, blue and black, lips cut and white streaks in place of his eyes. His head was caked with blood turned black. I realised I must be looking the same.
They murmured but even my strained ears couldn’t catch a coherent word. And then it happened. I heard the cocking of the gun and braced myself for my last breath. I knew when I was defeated. Death was about to greet me. I had to be ready. This is what my life had been about – dying with honour. But. They shot at Chief. A bullet went straight through what was possibly his head. Blood splattered around. And just like that the one person I wanted to emulate, live up to, died in front of me. He slumped, and helplessly, I captured that moment as a part of my life.
Someone came and caught my hair, pulling at the last bits of strength I had left in me. ‘Tell us what you’ve done to our men. You don’t have much time yourself.’
‘If I haven’t said it yet, what makes you think I will now?’ I said matter-of-factly, my teeth gritted because how else was I supposed to suppress the pain?
He pushed me forward hard and I fell with the chair, my head hitting the floor. I could feel my wounds re-opening. Blood trickled down in my ear.
The gun cocked again and this time the bullet pierced through my leg. I screamed out in pain. Right leg or left, it took me five seconds to realize. ‘Was the pain I inflicted on her worse than this?’ I thought.
They stood right there, on top of me, kicking me, pressing my wound, asking me questions, a dead body for company, darkness enveloping me and I could only think of her. I lied to her for the first time that day but it wasn’t my life’s last. I had just spent the last few hours of my captivity and my life lying to these men about all they wanted to know! I had pledged to live and die for my country. And that is exactly what I was doing right now – dying for my country.
I didn’t realise when the guns cocked, didn’t feel the last kicks they threw in my gut, or the bullets that gushed out blood from me. What’s the point of all of it though? What is the point of any of it? Whether army green or militia black, there was blood on both our clothes, men died, countries still remained, and the lines of humanity blurred. I guess I would never know. Her face flashed before my eyes closer and dearer than ever before. Scenes from my training, my missions, my operations also flashed by and I could not figure out why I chose all of those over love. All my life, the choices that made me stronger were now clouding my last moments. I believe I made her stronger with hatred than weaker with tears. I died loving her, but maybe she would live hating me. Or maybe she wouldn’t even think of me. What could be worse?
Aditi Chandak was raised in Calcutta and now resides in Bangalore. She’s a Chartered Accountant during the day to pay the bills, but the rest of her hours are spent writing, reading, sketching and travelling. Her debut novel ‘Under The Crescent Moon’ is awaiting publication. She can currently be found blogging at ‘Inking The Thinking’.
