Behaal-e-hijra
Yash Raja
Dear Shobha,
Happy Valentine's Day!
Yes, I know it's still December and probably this letter will reach you by mid January. But the post truck is coming tomorrow afternoon, and with winter incumbent, snowfall might block the roads here. This might be the last post truck before Valentine’s day, so had to wish you. I need to make it quick too. We are running short of fuel these days. So the generator runs only till 10 pm. After that, pitch dark. Also I will have to return to my post. The polite Pakis might send in a few gifts and a few fireworks in the night, taking advantage of the low temperature and early morning fog.
To answer the question that I am sure to find in your letter that I get tomorrow, Yes, I am alive and well. I am with my own people, and the camaraderie has never been better. My men both respect me as their super, and treat me as a friend. Soldiers ten years older than me call me "Lieutenant Saheb" which I find amusing and embarassing at the same time. Even the 55 year old Subedaar chacha calls me that some times, and I jokingly touch his feet whenever he does that. I am eating properly. Food here is passable, but that's fine. I wouldn't have chosen this profession if I loved food.
The sunrise from the mountains here is breathtaking. A peek of the sun from the clouds almost revives me out of the frozen night, and eqally frigid dawn. This place is heaven on Earth. No wonder two nations are fighting for it constantly. I wish you were here, just to enjoy the sunrise with me! The sunsets are antithetic and almost as beautiful. Winter is here though and the temperatures are increasingly low. Last I heard, we were ten degrees below zero. At times, I miss your warmth. I think of the days when we slept together under one blanket. Right now I am shuddering, not because of the cold, but because of longing. My soldier and somewhat of a poet friend Maqsood has given this feeling an apt word: Behaal-e-hijra. One who is fresh with wounds of separation.
Do you remember the last Valentine that we were together? Why do I even ask? Of course you do! You know what, I still regret not doing anything significant. I just gave you a rose that morning, and the joy in your eyes is eked out in my memory! I could've done better, hindsight tells me. I could have taken you out to a fancy place had I known it was going to be our last one before field duty. But the next Valentine's day we are going to be together. It's two years already! Another six months and I will be relieved of field duty and be with you again! I have meticulously planned for the day we are together again. I am going to treat you lavishly! May all the days thereafter be Valentine’s!
It is weird how this time away from you makes me cherish the time with you even more. The time hardest for me here is the dreary hours of afternoon, full of inaction. I try to sleep during this time, but more oftern than not I lie dow wide awake. I think about you, I think about us, an eye on the past, creating a vision of the future. Yes, I took your being there for granted when we were together. But not any more. Your absence has made me realize your importance after all. I do miss the intimate moments, the kisses and the cuddles, but your companionship I miss even more. We used to have long conversations about just about anything. I miss those in my hours of loneliness. I miss your voice, your laughter even more. I get to call you once a week. And that too with that 80 rupees a minute satellite phone. To be honest, that phone doesn’t do justice to your voice. It takes all the fruitiness away. Nevertheless, I will be surely calling you for a full five minutes this Valentine’s day. The outpour of your emotion will be worth more than a thousand roses.
I wonder sometimes about the enemy. He too must be a family man. He too must be longing to go back to his wife. He must be cursing us the same way we curse him for making us stay away from our families. I know we are trained to kill each other, but sometimes I still feel for him.
Enough about me. I have so many questions. It has been 7 months since I last saw you. I wonder how your countenance has changed. Has the hair you cut so short started growing? Have you been eating properly? You lost a lot of weight last time I was away. Please take care of yourself, because I am not in a position to. Are you having milk everyday? I know you hate it, but have it for my sake. Next time we meet, I am going to bring a lot of Kashmiri apples for you, the very shape of them makes me remember your cheeksand the taste is sweeter than honey! I am sure you would like them. How are things at work? Are you getting along with your colleagues well? Did you remember to pay the premium of our insurance policies? Please keep my insurance up to date. It might help us if I come back clad in the tri-color. Don’t worry, everything is peaceful at this part of LOC, but we still need to be alert and ready for action.
I hope everything is fine with our families. I hope your mother is alright after that bout of chikunguniya. Please let me know of her well being too when you write to me next time.
Shobha, I am longing to be in your arms, entangling my fingers in your hair, staring in the vast nothingness of your eyes, caressing your cheek, and being warm, once again, under one blanket.
Yours, with love,
Amar.
