As the day broke

       

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          He lay there supine. It was a cold night,one in which the silence was interrupted by gusts of chill winds that cooled his moist stomach. As he lay there motionless, he saw the stars. Bright dazzling  studs in the blackness of the night. There was no moon. And it disappointed him a little, because the layout of the circumstance was a perfect match for his thoughts; expect for the absence of a full bright silver moon, complete with the fairy tale granny in it. The pain was killing him, and the dried or clotting blood on his torso was stretching the wound, making him wince. Today was a good day to reminisce he decided. As if to agree with him a slow zephyr of a breeze caressed his wet cheeks, wet from the tears that came out involuntarily, tears that came from the unbearable pain.

          A day to reminisce of the good times and the bad. It would help him to temporarily forget the pain. Maybe if he thought of something good and strong enough the pain would magically disappear. If Tansen's raaga could light a flame why couldn't a strong enough thought wipe away pain his mind argued. And so he proceeded to think of what made him happy.

          His parents had been a cornerstone for his happiness. Especially Amma. With her bright diamond nose ring and her disheveled saree. Her high pitched ringing laughter baring all her teeth. Laughter of the kind that came from the villages. No holds barred,no inhibitions and no feelings withheld. It was a laughter that was an outpouring of excitement. He remembered how she would carry loads of home made snacks and condiments whenever she visited him and Ammu. He had asked her not to do so so that she may avoid the burden but she never listened. It was at times like this he wondered if he should invite Amma to stay with him. But that never materialized, and he regretted it now. If only Amma would be here now with her sweet laughter and her warm lap so that he may lay on it. That would have eased the pain for sure.

          Many men think that being with one's wife is the end. It isn't. All the excitement of living alone with one's life partner would end in the first few years. After that things become routine and hard. Having one's parents to live with them makes life easier, and much more fulfilling. If Amma's thoughts were to have made him feel better, it wasn't, it only made him feel guilty, but yes the intense thoughts took away his attention from the wound that was festering in his abdomen.

          He then though of Ammu. Ammu, the sweetest and most caring woman he had ever seen. Ammu was the kind of woman that would cry for the little kid begging on the road, or for Amma and her problems. It was this kind disposition of hers that made him fall in love with her again and again every day. She was generosity in human form. If there was a reason that really beckoned him back from Yama's slowly approaching grip, it was Ammu. He thought of the days of careless cuddles and love making. He thought of her beautiful eyes, child like and fish shaped. Lined always with night like dark kohl. She donned it all the time, for he had said to her once that kohl lined eyes were very attractive. She was like that, she craved his attention as much as he craved her need for him. The impromptu outings and small fights that invariably ended in passionate make up sex. He missed her. Why did he choose this blasted profession he wondered. Had he made a wrong priority in choosing this profession?

          Ammu never did point out the dangers of the profession. He was the cautious one, she was a happy go lucky careless fun loving person. She didn't take it upon herself to check his various decisions, be it his drinking binges or his choice of profession. She trusted him completely, in the true sense of the phrase. And he loved her for it. Maybe he overdid it this time. He was asked to cover the action at the border. She didn't protest, though she was visibly upset. Her acquiescence was not one that came out of fear, but respect. She respected his wishes and understood that he was an Albatross that charted it owns routes. All the more reason for him to always come back and make sure that her feelings were always considered. But this time he had ventured out a little too far.

           If she saw him now she would wail and cry and he was happy that there was someone in this world to whom his presence, or the lack of it, mattered.

          Another gust and this time it brought with it sharp droplets of water that stung at the wound, bringing back the stinging pain, and with it his thoughts from its wonderful travel to the good times. He heard foot steps, or was it his mind making things up to speed up the demise, for it seemed the pain was pushing his mind to the point of easing through the end.

         And then he though of Appa. His hero. If he was an Albatross, his father was the king of Albatrosses. He never looked back. He made his choices and he just went ahead. And just like that he had left them in the lurch and gone ahead in life for another woman. The bitterness his mom carried kindled in him a hatred for his Appa. Not because he had left them, but because he brought out a side of Amma he had never seen and he despised this. He had moved on in life, and as he lay there writhing in pain he wanted badly to forgive Appa. In spite of interminable anger for Appa he always remembered the tenderness of his love and care when he was with them. Appa never once raised his hand on him, it was always patience and love that was chosen to bring the children up. He went to great lengths to satisfy their every need. He stretched to ensure that his son has an education that was unparalleled. In spite of all the anguish, he harbored a love for Appa that he had never been able to exhibit.

          The foot steps grew stronger. He was now sure that the end was near. If it was the enemy on the lookout for live prisoners, he was done for. He was not fit enough to be taken prisoner nor was he dead. He would, in all probability, be subjected to sadistic torture that worked strangely as a relief mechanism for the men of war.  Their minds were twisted by the constant alertness they had to endure. The pressure of a billion subjects safety in their hands drove these men to the brink of insanity.

           As the day broke, he was carried into camp by the recon team. They had been looking for him since the previous night. They knew he was high profile media man and any action not taken in order to retrieve him would result in unnecessary uproar which would in turn lead to a probe and all the messiness would be out in the open.

          As they cleaned him up and took care of his injury, the pain subsided, but something else inside him grew and prospered. It asked him to return home.