The War

The sky was overcast and slimy mist wrapped its cold finger around everyone. A feeling of dread and foreboding hung around and the weather even, mirrored the peoples’ mood. The sun had hidden for many days. And even if the sky wanted to be clear, dust and smoke, wouldn’t let it be. The nature too had been condemned as if, to a fate.

Amidst all this, she was reluctant to let him go. She didn’t want him to be any part of this senseless carnage. This war had just seen loss of life on both sides. Yet, unrelenting and hungry for more carcass to adorn its fields. A demon hungry for blood taking roots in the fields, alleys, roads wherever the blood flowed. Why should she lose her only angel to this demon, whom no one has been able to sate!

It was the base camp of soldiers. From here in another hour, two ships would sail separating families forever from husbands, fathers, sons, and brothers. Another pack of men to feed the army. So families came to see them off. They all knew it would be the last time, but no one dared utter it, lest it prove to be a black prophecy. A semblance of hope was needed to live by, once those ships would have sailed.

Some bravely fought on. Pushing this thought back to the darkest corner of their mind; succeeding but not quite. Reality gnawed on such foolish optimism. But with that too lost, these people wouldn’t have anything left. Better foolish than that!

She was still standing and talking to him, telling him to take care as she fiercely pushed back her tears. There shouldn’t be any reason to cry. He was her angel and he would come back. She was trying to make him believe her vision and infuse in him strength; she was painting stories of their ‘happily ever after’ in her sometimes small, sometimes strained, and sometimes too jovial voice. She asked him to make her proud and come back home. He was going to serve his country, of course, she was proud.

He looked at her kindly, wondering if she really meant it. He wondered where she was getting this strength from and not breaking up. For a moment, he just let her voice wash over him, trying to memorize her voice, her eyes, lips, face. Trying to record her every nuance in his mind, take her with him in the sanctuary of his mind. He was going to face a lot more than long cold nights alone, and he needed every ounce of strength to remind him, that he must not give in. She shivered in his arms. And he saw through. It wasn’t the cold that did it.

She was terrified. These pictures she was painting were more for her. And he knew that. He wanted to shake her to make her come back to reality. How could he just let her ramble on, like that? It killed him in ways that a whole army of soldiers couldn’t. Yet he hadn’t the strength to break her himself. To make her see the reality or force her to see what already was staring at her.

The mothers had found solace in grieving aloud, crying. The fathers’ grief was beyond tears. Other contended themselves with crying softly over the dead and maybe, soon to be. Everyone was scared of tomorrow, but none could live this moment to the fullest. Dreading and waiting in mind numbing pain… each wondered, if they would lay their eyes on the other again. Tomorrow would things still be same or never again?

Conversations were no longer punctuated even by a widow’s shriek. It was commonplace. Goosebumps still rose as she relived her pain over and again in her cries, but people had learned to ignore it. Why waste even a moment of their lives, when none knew how long the future held…

And not just men died, so did the people for whom they were the reason of life.

She too, heard everything. Numb by her pain, she too felt nothing. If not for those strong arms still trying to secure her, she might have not realized she was still rooted to reality. Partially, anyways. Her incessant chatter kept up though, shielding her from insanity in many ways, and yet she seemed insane. She held herself too rigidly. Her grief and tensioned was coiled in every muscle. He was scared now, for her. Maybe she should have cried; it would have helped. He could have dealt with that but not her denial of reality. They had just a half hour together now, maybe their last. Maybe the longest and yet, the shortest. Who would take care of her after that, if she didn’t stop this right now?

He kept trying to smooth the tension away, carressing the small of her back. Tried to talk sense to her. She must see things as they were. May be even forget him, he realized with sharp agony. Or atleast love someone again. She was so lovely… anyone would fall in love with her just like he had. It seemed like yesterday when he had asked her to marry him, and she had agreed. Two years that had flown by. He shook himself out of his reverie, refusing to get lost in those dark brown eyes like he always did. Not today, maybe not ever. He had to talk to her. “Listen… yes, listen. I will always love you. And I need you to take care of yourself for me. Do you get me? You do this for me. And if I don’t come back, will you mar..” She covered his mouth. And then in shock, backed away breaking his embrace. “I know you will come back. Don’t you believe me…”, her voice trailed off. They wordless communicated, each moment prolonged. The intensity of their stares spoke of the shared love and time spent together. And in these long glances, she acknowledged her fear, her pain, her desolation subconsciously. He knew she would have to fend for her own because she wouldn’t give him up. He had lost on that point. So, he fused as much love and strength he could into his stare and asked her to take care.

Did she hear correctly? Some of her numbness vanished as fury boiled through her. How could he ever ask her to choose another man? Then she saw the pain and the love, and the reality seemed to shine through again. Waves after waves of fear, anger and pain/sorrow crashed over her. She felt nauseated. How could he say that? They had a happy life ahead. A small cottage and the two kids they planned. How could he even dream of puncturing her dream? Correction, this was her reality, and the only reality she was determined she wanted to see. There had to be her ‘happily ever after’ there in the future.

But, her resolve was breaking. Voices mocked her as they taunted, “How will you pull this one off? You are just thwarting yourself. Give up.”

He was close to slapping her only if to end her madness. To jolt her senses. Already she was fragile and brittle. No, he couldn’t do it. And then the hoot sounded. The precious hour was up.

They synonymously fitted into each other’s arms. He bent his head down to kiss her lightly. But all the yearning and sadness and pain coursed through them, to make what was a gentle kiss to a fiercer one. He gave her his strength and she, her hope. Each trying to burn this moment into their minds, each trying to ask for more…

Then he pulled back and left. He went on without a backward glance. It was hard for him but it would only make it easier to her. She was standing too still. He reached his ship. Soon it sailed. He waved at her. As the ship pulled out, many came rushing forward. She was yet too still and mute. Her face was getting obscured…he was growing restless and afraid, for her. The mist promised to engulf them soon. He shouted her name. and suddenly with tears streaming down, she started running, pushing people around her. She reached the front and waved to him. He was too far away, she hoped to see her tears. And then the mist was upon the ship, as if it never was. And that did it. The tension uncoiled suddenly as fast as a spring.

She was running into the sea, after her man. Many hands held her back, as she thrashed, screeched and shouted. Soon, exhaustion won over and the prize was a dreamless sleep.

When she awoke, the cost of living, the cost of living alone…seemed too high. Fury, sadness, pain, realization, loss, and reality crashed on her simultaneously. No hope, no dreams can survive such an inferno. She was sacrificed with the many who died on the field. Her soul was dead. She came home thinking about the kids she never would have. The war had managed to kill the unborn too. Tears cascaded, as she spent ever ounce of her strength, every fibre of her being to hate this senseless war. She threw herself in some corner as tears flowed without abandon. She cried herself into those exhausted dreamless sleep. She wouldn’t be so lucky always,

She woke to find a moments silence. After which the demons returned with despair, anger, fear and the like. She ruefully smiled… she was getting used to this? The war was wrong; the reasons, the people, the actions, the motives and the grief was all wrong. But there wasn’t anything you could do. Atleast she couldn’t. She lost her soul. Her life too added party to the carcass that adorned the battle grounds.