"We are ready to die, we are soldiers."

Never can I really understand the reason why countries, factions or people go to war. What is it that they are fighting for, that they are more than willing and believe they have the right to take the lives of others? The losses are so colossal that it doesn't justify any rationale behind people raging to engage in war. I do not want to go into the depths of explaining why war is wrong because for one I am not the right person and two even if I did, the complexities involved are so enormous that this post will do no justice.

Having said that, I have great respect for soldiers and what they do. To whole heartedly give up ones life so that someone else can peacefully live his or hers, is the noblest thing any one can do. Its one thing to give up your life trying to protect yourself and your family, another thing trying to protect your countrymen but it's completely something else to willingly put your life on the line to protect someone else with whom you share absolutely no affinity be it cultural, genetic, geographical or emotional.

I was reading a BBC news article on a group of all female UN peace keeping force from India to Liberia. At the end of the article was this quote by one of the soldiers, "We are ready to die, we are soldiers.". This particular quote had an immediate impact on me for the simply reason that I cannot ever imagine saying this myself. When I tried, it sent a chill down my spine and set into motion different trains of thought.

Having a family of her own, wouldn't she want to watch her kids' grow up, share her life with her husband, care for her parents and siblings, enjoy all the lovely things life has to offer? How is her life any different than ours? Yet there she is fighting someone else's war, not knowing if she will come out alive the next day. God forbid, if she doesn't, then what, a simple funeral, a short eulogy, remembered only by family, a few friends and forgotten by the rest of the world. Even though she may not be fighting for a cause, glory, idea, freedom, respect or fame, she is my true hero.

The gift

The room was small. It had among several other things, an even smaller wooden window, pictures and statues of Gods and Goddesses and a shelf high above. Even as an inquisitive child, none of these apparently stirred his curiosity. What really evoked his interest was something on that shelf high above. No one really wondered what it was doing there, gave it a thought or displayed any sort of interest in it and was therefore completely oblivious to its very existence but not him.

The gently flattened bronze globe had a circular pattern of minute exquisite flower carvings, a tiny brass knob consisting of a thin rod attached to a flat circular plate extends right above the globe, screwed on top of the globe itself is a dark green glass shade shaped like a vase. It was breathtakingly beautiful. What more, it was in perfect working condition.

Noticing her grandson's curious little eyes gazing at that something, she gently picks it up. Her eyes twinkled and her lips broke into a soft smile as she quietly looked at it. Her mind was instantly flooded with old memories. Probably it remanded her of a friend and all the playful times they shared; maybe her mom presented it for that special occasion or her husband bought and gifted it during one of their rare vacations. Whatever it was, that something was special, special enough to bring a tear of joy.

Longingly he looks at that something hoping his grandmother would let him have it. She didn't have the heart to refuse. It was special but her grandson was even more. She slowly places it in his tiny hands and wraps her delicate fingers about his. The old miniature green lamp was her gift to him.

Lost and never found

How on earth could I lose you? I keep wondering every now and then. The answer seems to elude me no matter how hard I try. I tried, trust me I really did. I asked old friends, hunted you online, searched your number, even felt I came close but then I was just chasing a mirage.

How exactly we became the best of friends I don't know. Guess we were too young to even realize it then. All my early school memories are filled with you in it, the laughs, the fights, the tears, the fun and those quiet moments. They are still fresh in my mind. The time when I was sick at home the teacher said you refused to have lunch without me. You would complain to my mother that I run away every time you ask me to dance with you. In the class, girls sat in one group, boys in another but you would always boldly sit beside me. Fiercely you defended me when others complained. I could vividly recollect it all, every single one of them.

And then one day, just like that, you were gone. I frantically searched the entire school for you, demanded the teacher that you be returned, cried, fell sick, yet you never came. After all these years, I don't know if you still remember me, I don't know if you still think about me. Just so that you know, I still do.

Sweet sacrifice

A quick look around the house and you come to the conclusion that it’s crying for care and attention. Rough walls, cracks along the seams, hidden termite colonies, bare minimal modern conveniences, ancient furnishing, and incomplete repairs to mention a few in case you haven’t noticed. A little flamboyance could do no harm. It’s a home for God’s sake.

What to you are little and indispensable conveniences in life were a luxury to him. Much more importantly, they were a dent in his savings for his children. Being a perfectionist, he would only purchase products that are of exceptional quality. Exceptional quality comes at a pricey price tag. He takes a long look at one of those fancy automatic washing machines. The store attendant quips, the best money can buy in its category, Sir. You need to do much more to capture his attention. Quick price check; this is my child’s educational expense for a whole year, he thinks. He walks out of the store, no further thinking was required.

Happiness comes in a variety of forms. To him, it was putting a smile on his child’s face, forever. For him, it was worn out sandals, shirts with missing buttons and old trousers that hardly match. For his children, it was designer wear, sporty shoes both formal and informal, cell phones; add to this their lavish spending on movies, parties, dinners, gifts and what not. Never once did he complain, weaken, relent, rest or quit. Sweet sacrifice is what he would term it.

Appa, you are the best.

Coffee with Hide and Seek

Wake up, get ready, skip breakfast, and drag your feet to the class, repetitive tasks done during the course of another mundane day. Trying to listen to all the boring and flawed lectures is more painful than watching one of those never ending soaps on television. They never seem to know what they do and they do this everyday for the next four years. Ha! Who said soaps are miserable. They said join the college, a temple of knowledge, a powerhouse of invention and innovation, an opportunity to make a difference, be an engineer and build a better tomorrow, they said…

Respite at last, sure seemed like a reprieve from death sentence, its just lunch break. Which one to choose? A long sweaty trek in the hot sun to the vegan mess hall where they pride themselves in serving steaming hot food often with a side of bugs or a ride in the auto rickshaw to the air conditioned china town and a movie later on with friends. Hell or heaven? Heaven it is!

Evenings are by default spent at the school cafeteria. Good food. Wonder why the cafeteria guys can’t run our vegan mess too? Two huge tables are immediately occupied, a ruckus made, pairs cuddled together, rest aimlessly look around, the same poor soul orders food every time only to be devoured by everyone else. Lame repetitive discussions about love and friendship, jokes that are irksome and clichéd, agreements and disagreements, groups within a group, veiled hate and jealousy, friends is what they call themselves. It was not always like this. Well times change, so do people. Running away suddenly seemed like an attractive choice to make and it was.

Back to the room, there he was, filled with enthusiasm and energy, just when you are about to give up. Never had to ask him. He reads minds. Enzo? Search the cupboards, waste paper basket, clothes basket, under, over and inside the desk and the bed, beg or borrow, find just enough change to get two coffees and a pack of Parle hide and seek. Laid back, sipping the piping hot coffee, a bite of hide and seek, watching the sun set, the rattling sound of trains passing by, an invigorating talk about God, Yana Gupta in that sizzling song and operating systems design. Life was totally worth it and all it took was him and a coffee with hide and seek. Ah! Sure miss those times.