If I were to put it in perspective, it was a wild sensation. The moment when her soft fingers grazed over the sparkling forefront of those red bangles, still wrapped in the original light brown packet. “Mehak”, Akshara shouted, directing her pitch towards the first floor, “Aaja Bachha. We’re getting late.” The vase in front of the room, nearest to the staircase on the first floor, shone like the sun, when the five-year-old, tiny little packet of happiness, jolted the doors and bolted out. Pink lips, brownish hair, jumping up and down, just like her school bag, which she didn’t bother hanging up to her shoulders, and they struggled mid-air, trying to keep up with the Brownian motion of the most unpredictable member of the Singh family. “Aa gayi mumma!”, her voice loomed in the air. It was stronger than any fragrance. It was prettier than any decoration. All the wall hangings, all the posters, all the medals, the carpet, everything grinned with life, as she tapped down the stairwell, straight in her mother’s arms. Unlike most of the kids, Mehak did not hold her mother’s index finger, it was always the ring finger, not too big, not too small, and on top of the size constraint, there was the beautiful ring. Impeccably clean, a neat circle of pure gold, unscathed by the repeated blows of undiminishing distance between the two of them.
“Chalo! Chalo! Late. Late”, and the rabbit tried to run, from her mother’s realm to the outside world, the one outside the front door, the one that looked too fascinating. Yes, to her, it was fascinating, but little did she know, that there was more to it than the beautiful butterflies, the colossal sky and the colourful ice creams.
“Ruukoo”, Akshara shot her arm to grasp hers and succeeded, and then just as every day, she put up her bag properly, knowing that it would fall again, and arranged the not so long hair, neatly behind her ears. Akshara kissed her daughter good bye, just before she left for school, on her yellow bus.
Bidding farewell was a tough task, especially for an army man’s wife. Contrary to popular belief, it never become easier with practice, or time. Each time, her hands failed to complete the wave, they’d falter in the process and come down, sans energy. Forget the physical movements, she never reached the last syllable. The day she sat beside him, opposite to the controlled ignition of wood, she knew what she was signing up for, but reality had still come to her as a surprise. Brainstorming can only deliver a foresight, not the actual picture. Decades of planning, may go futile, if reality decided to rock the day, and this was a case of love, do the math.
Five hundred kilometres away, Vijay sat in his bed, holding the letter in his hand and smiling like a baby. His application for a week’s leave had been approved. Vijay was going home, back to Akshara, and his three-month old daughter, who would now be five. She had started going to school, Vijay, still wondered in disbelief. Living away from his family was difficult, it was, for each and every soul present there in Srinagar, but now, after so many years of rigorous training, their unfathomable spirit of self-devotion and sacrifice for the goodwill of their motherland and their people, the memories had stopped bothering them, too much. They would come like a breeze, graze the softer parts of their thoughts and then loom in thin air, amidst other ideas, which were of far less priority.
“Haan, chutti mil gayi mujhe.” Did she hear that right? Akshara stood there, silent. Vijay was coming back to Amritsar. He was coming home. Four long years, waiting for this call and now she didn’t know how to respond. So much to tell him. So many complaints, so many requests, so many questions, so many answers, so much love that her heart wanted to pour out of her lips, and still, she remained silent for the next minute, after which he hung up, it was time for him to do what he had to.
The drill had been cancelled and each soul was asked to report in front of the emergency room, immediately. There had been an attack, not like the usual ones. This was much more intense. The first report stated that three heavily armed terrorists had fortified a civilian office building, which fortunately, had been empty at the time of attack. After setting themselves up in the building, the three men had mercilessly opened fire on the nearby civilian establishments and by-walkers. Anxiety and panic had spread like wild fire in the region.
The nearest army camp had been called to the rescue and as the commanding officer, Vijay had been authorized to conduct a strike with his team and take them down, as soon as possible. The letter, middle part of which was soaked with a drop of tear, lay there on the ground, waiting, while the commanding officer, valiantly led his brigade from the front. By the end of the day, the Indian army had fought and won. After hours of planning, execution, teamwork, gunfire and injuries later, the three psychologically lost souls had been neutralised and countless civilian lives saved.
Two days later, Akshara sat there, right in front of the mirror. It was a rare sight. She couldn’t resist that smile as she put wore those bangles, the quintessential patronus of love adorning her wrist, five in each. Vijay had not called, which was very common as just two days had passed, she remembered the time, when she had to wait for five complete months. He was probably involved in the post-strike analysis. Not that she knew anything about this operation at hand, but what she did know that it was a necessary procedure, after every single operation. Mehak had been super-excited, as well. She had only heard tales of her father’s unprecedented bravery and valour. How he had taken down enemies and that although he wasn’t present with her, all the time, he loved her, more than anyone else in the world and he worked day and night, only to protect her and give her a free and secure future.
“Papaaaaa!”, what!? Did she hear that right? Akshara was stunned. Three days were still left, or had Vijay lied. Yes! This was the best possible explanation. He wanted to surprise us. Her face was red, like a rose and lips remained apart, trying to respond, but yet again, they failed. Akshara ran with all her might, pushing the door open, avoiding getting entangled in the curtains, she dashed towards the door barefoot. Now she could hear the sirens as well. It had to be Vijay. Three sirens, precisely. “Oh my god! Did he get an escort jeep after that last promotion?”, Akshara wondered. “Wow!” For the two ladies, Vijay was no less than a superhero and here he was, with his very own caravan. Akshara’s head rose with honour and her body, beamed with the shine of pride.
The pitch green jeep, in the middle stopped right in front of her. The jeep was a closed one. She desperately waited for Vijay to jump right out and grab her in her arms, never to let go off again. Mehak’s innocent eyes, searched for the man in the picture, which she held in her right hand, almost crumpling it up. The man sitting beside the driver, opened the front door and came out. He was wearing a hat and had way too many stars and badges on his uniform, much more than she had ever seen Vijay put on. “Why are his seniors here!?”, Akshara’s brain went numb, she wanted to ask that question but she was still silent. Bleak and monstrously dark thoughts knocked off her imagination and conscience. The next thing she saw was the opening of the back side of the closed army jeep.
“Mummy. Papa kahan hain!?”, everyone was out now, except Vijay. No, he was out too. The only difference being, “Papa box mein so rahe hain kya?”, because Mehak’s eyes were fixated at the tricolour blanket, wrapped around the box. Apparently, she wanted the same for her bedroom.
A five-year old’s eyes, still curious, a wife’s eyes blank and her lips, silent, as always. Nobody said a word and the only movement which happened was when all the men in uniforms raised their right hand from the side of their legs to their foreheads.
Akshara was quiet, still, quiet.
Ayush Shekhar 