Guns And Roses.

Lt. Farooq Mahmood was running for his life. The cold Ladhaki wind, usually a hindrance to stamina in usual situations, was strangely acting as a much-needed boost.   

The eerie silence of the valley was pierced only by the wails of the few-numbered soldiers, surprised by the sudden atack. 

"It's a bomb-shell! RUN!"

And he did run. He ran faster than the bullets pouring in numbers amongst his peers. Panic is the best caffeine, his Squadron Leader told him. And how true it was.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, came a black-clothed, masked demon, malice in his eyes, and guns in his hands. He wasn't human. Mahmood was looking at the Shaitan himself.

Seven bullets pierced mercilessly through Farooq's unarmored chest. Machines show no mercy. He was falling.

_________________________________________

Lt.Farooq Mahmood woke up. It was 3 am. Inspite of temperatures reaching the negatives, he was sweating. Profusely. Just another nightmare. Ever since that incident, he never had a moment of peace.

That incident.How he came out alive, still seemed a mystery more confusing than the origin of the universe or the existence of God. The fact he was alive amongst twelve other dead peers had only increased his faith in Allah. 

Lost in thoughts, he looked above. His Squadron Leader was gazing at him.


"Don't go to sleep again. We're going to launch a surprise attack on them at 3:47 AM. Get Ready."

"Yes Sir."


Thoughts whirred in his head at an intensity that almost sickened him. He had to do it. Who knows, it might just be his last mission, Alive. Crawling to his bag with some difficulty, he extracted a small piece of paper, and began to pen down those feelings whose existence he had denied for a long time.
 _____________________________________________

My dearest Amina,

 I miss you. I know you must be doing well. I hope little Sukhaya and Rehman are fine.

-He stopped. Where do I START?  Trying to gather his thoughts, he continued.

I am about to continue my mission in a few minutes, and I do not know if I'll come back alive. If I don't, I want you to know, that- 
He stopped again. The dam of strict Army discipline he had built over his river of emotions had cracked. He took a deep breath and continued.

that I will always, and I repeat, ALWAYS be with you. You will be unharmed, I will always protect you. Oh, just a small house with you, me and our children seems the sweetest paradise anyone could ever hope to get. I wish, and HOW I wish, that I return back to you! Every day I had ever spent in your presence seems like a second, every month, a year. Those twinkling eyes of yours, that sweet smile was the only thread keeping me from running away from this madness! And oh, our children! How I laugh at the little antics Sukhaya used to do! And I still remember Rehman's mischievousness. Have you found out the watch he hid yet? 
It's been a year, Amina. A whole year. The only thought of having to wait for an unknown period to return back is a torture worse than swords and bullets. And I will, I WILL return back alive. Until then, I only hope that I stay sane at this hellhole.

With you always,

Farooq.

Farooq quickly folded the paper and kept it for posting; he didn't want his tears to blotch on the paper.

Just then, a messenger from the base camp came gasping in; breathing air from the highest plateau in the world wasn't easy. 

He wispered something into the Squadron Leader's ears, and the latter stood up.

"Jawans, the Indo-Pak war has officially been declared over. Return to base-camp in fifteen minutes."


Emotions played havoc with Farooq's heart. 


He was going home.

Crappy Independence Day!

Happy Independence day? I don’t think so. For me, Independence Day has been nothing but a holiday where they have a bunch of TV shows lined up for Entertainment-Hungry people. Patriotism? Pah. Desh premi? Meh. Now, don’t get all “you don’t have the ‘Indian’ spirit. Aaj kal ke bachhe in Amreeki logon se bigad gaye hain.” You know what, I don’t give a damn.

YOU aren’t the best compatriot either. What shirt are you wearing? Polo? Nice. You’re SO Indian K So much for ‘swadeshipan’.

Yes, India has got corruption and the like, but I’m not going to rip another cliché of how corruption has afflicted our lives. You already know that.

What I’m trying to tell is, you know you’re not the best ‘Indian’. Don’t pretend that you actually care for this darned country. Oh, are you saying that you DO? Then shut the hell up and DO something!

What happened? Why so silent? Ha. All we know to do is to give this large lecture of how we want India in 2020.Alright, fine. But I don’t think that’s  gonna happen if you drop another chocolate wrapper on the ground. Rhapsodize all you want, but the truth is, that wrapper is still lying on the ground.  To quote Obama,”Change We Need”.

I’m no flag-waver. Atleast I’m accepting that. All I want is a place to live in, and India happens to be that place.  If you think you are, e-mail me. I’ll prove you wrong.

Break Free.

Feeling gloomy won't get you awards;

Feeling sad won't get you prizes;

Being vain has absolutely no rewards

Failure is Ominous; it'll come in all sizes.



Striving forward, you have to forget

All that shit in the past, everything you haven't done,

All those blames, those faults, those errors,

Gather everything together now, think as One.



Get fired up, get inspired;

Go crazy, go hay-wire,

Look for role-models, people you admire

Have that urge in you, get that desire.



Push forward! Those obstacles

Aren't enough for you to go down;

Break those chains of guilt, shatter those manacles;

Finally, you WILL do it, and how!

That Evening Sky.

The sun was shining in the vespertine sky,
Fading away with gentle an evanescence,
With a placid flow  and a smooth zephyr
Caressing my skin, my haptic senses.

 
Oh, the skies, that striking blue display!
Festooned with bodies of cotton,
Flowing high o'er vales and hills,
Purifying my heart from the very bottom!

 
And Oh, the desperation!
Of that red devil,
Trying to boast his best illumination,
Over joyed I was, so much, yet so little.

 
That was the moment, the second that time,
I wanted everything, still, over 'ere;
My gripes were to the Omni-present;
"Let this place be, tranquil, O great Seer!"

 
And out came the reply, right from the heavens,
"Let this be a lesson, for you to learn;
That all in life is not hunky-dory,
You need to fall, You have to burn.

 
"But when you lose all that cheer,
And you feel all you've done is in vain,
Remember always that I'm here;
And I'll give you such a wondrous sky again.

Ramu And Ranjha

Ramu loved flying kites. It gave him a sense of unrealness and surreality. His house in the tiny village of Motihari in Bihar had a big open compound where he would fly his kites. His mother, who had a no-nonsense conservative mind, allowed him to fly kites for one hour in the evening every day and the rest of the free-time he had had to be spent studying.



Ramu hated school. He would either fly his kites, or spend the entire day thinking about them at school or at home. Flying kites gave him an outpost for letting off steam during his mother and father's many fights, which often resulted in his mother leaving the house for a few days.



Ramu hated the way the high caste boys at school treated the lower caste boys. The former would rag the latter relentlessly, and the latter had no one to complain to. It was good enough that they were allowed to study in the same classroom as the high-caste boys.



One day, Ramu's favorite Uncle, Rajesh Chacha, visited them from his many trips to the city.

"I've got a gift for you, Ramu! I know how much you love kites and-"

He took a large, beautifully decorated kite from a bag.

Ramu was over-whelmed with joy. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Shaped like a bird, It was painted Red, blue and white, and it had a pretty, short tail. It was love at first sight for Ramu, who named the kite Ranjha. It was the largest kite he had ever seen. Waiting for his allotted kite-flying time was almost tortuous.



Finally, after his school –bell rang; he sprinted off home and took out Ranjha. Ranjha flew, and oh, how he flew! Darting, diving, whizzing, swooshing and zooming through the windy, cloudy sky! Ramu felt his heart soaring and rising with Ranjha. He was never this happy.



Enamored by his new found friend, Ramu forgot to be wary of the electric wires around the compound. Suddenly, the thread (Manja) cut loose. No! Forgetting everything that was ever there in his head, Ramu hurriedly followed Ranjha, unaware of what was ahead. Ranjha went spiraling through streets, grounds and houses as the wind played with him, and Ramu was in close pursuit.



In his quest, he was joined by Bambish, his former Best-Friend, with whom he was forced to break ties with, since the latter was of a lower caste, and the former's mother disapproved of it. Off went Ramu and Bambish, running after Ranjha.

On their way, they were stopped by the High-Caste bullies, who were ragging three small Low-Caste boys at that time, and they asked what they were doing. Without uttering a word, Ramu pointed to the heavens. The bullies stood transfixed, gazing at that beautiful kite fluttering in the skies.
___________________________________

It was quite a long time since his mother saw him, and so Ramu's mother was worried. After searching the entire compound fruitlessly, she grew even more anxious. Hurrying inside, she told her husband that

Ramu was missing. This started another quest.

___________________________________
 
The skies had cleared a bit and the breeze was down. The solitary mission to recover Ranjha had turned into a several-boy pursuit. Ranjha fell. Scurrying to pick him up, the army of boys ran hastily. But unfortunately, it went into that timeworn, run-down, out-of-purpose Post office, which was rumored to be haunted with the ghost of its dead Postmaster.

Ramu's parents went in frantic search for him, and realized what troubles they gave Ramu with their fighting. They were different in many ways, but their mutual love for Ramu would keep them together.



They were united, once again.

__________________________________________

No one was ready to go inside the post office, not even Ramu. But, Bambish mustered up his courage and ran inside.

After two minutes of bated breaths, Bambish ran back jubilantly with an un-tattered, unbroken Ranjha.

Forgetting all their differences, the group of boys ran elatedly towards Bambish and congratulated him.

Ramu noticed this assemblage for the first time. It was the first time he saw a uniform face of glee and happiness on the faces of these Fat, thin, tall, short, poor and rich boys. THIS was what he wanted. He didn't want Ranjha anymore.

The sky was clear again.