A Wife's Story

With blurry eyes I saw them walking… with him in the coffin, the tricolour wrapped around it. My world was crumbling. I was numb. With him I lost my soul and my will to live. It was over, he was gone. My husband, my best friend, my constant companion and supporter. I still remember his last promise when he left… never to return again. “I’ll be back. I promise. You won’t be able to get rid of me so soon”. He was back, but not alive. Everyone said it was an honourable death and I should be proud of him. But it wasn’t them who had lost someone they loved was it? Most of them didn’t even know what I felt. Those who did told me that this feeling would pass in a few days. That I would learn to live again; I would learn to live but without him. It would be a compromise not a choice.

When he left me that day, with only that promise to hold on to, I begged him not to go. I had never done that before. I knew he loved me, but he loved his country more. So, I always let him go with a smile on my face, the tears only escaping when he was out of sight. But this time it felt different, it felt wrong. It felt as if I knew he wouldn’t return if he left. But somewhere I knew he wouldn’t wait. He would rather die there than be safe here while his brothers fought. That day for the first time ever I cried in front of him and begged some more. He waited a little longer but soon left.

Someone was shaking me. I snapped back to reality. I didn’t know when I sat down. My mother-in-law was beside me, crying as well but consoling me. She was someone who knew what I felt. She lost her husband, my father-in-law, just as I lost him. She lost the will to live too but lived on for her son, my husband. But now he was gone too. And with him he took our purpose of living.

I remember the day he asked me to be his girlfriend. We were in college. He was an NCC cadet, the chocolate boy loved by all; kind, loving, caring but fierce when it came to right a wrong. Like all other girls I was eyeing him too. One day he caught me staring at him. Of course, I quickly looked away. He came to me and asked if I would like to have coffee with him. I was too happy to say anything, so I just nodded. He laughed, probably at how I looked… like a lost puppy. A few days later he asked me to be his girlfriend. This time I replied, “Yes! A hundred times yes!”.

A few years later we got married, soon after he passed out from the IMA. I remember that day too. His passing out parade…the day we all had dreamed of for years. He was so happy that day and I was happy because he was. Nothing could wipe off the smile on our faces. He had finally achieved what he wanted. But although I was smiling, one fear made its home in the back of my mind. He would leave now and maybe someday he wouldn’t return.

Today was that day. Now he wouldn’t return. I don’t know when the ceremony ended and how I reached home. For days I was numb. A few days later they brought his things home. What was I to do with it now? But it was piece of him. In his trunk we found our picture… the one taken on the day of his POP.

It all seemed to have happened so long ago. But it wasn’t so long. It had been only 3 years since he passed IMA and joined the forces as a lieutenant. His words were ringing in my ears, “agar kabhi jaan deni padi toh watan keliye aur leni padi toh watan keliye” (If I ever I have to sacrifice my life it will be for the nation and if I have take someone’s life it will be for the nation). And that is what he did.

Now it has been years after his death. I never re-married. No one seemed to be capable enough to take his place. But all these years ago I decided one thing – I would do everything to help those who are going through the same thing I went through. I would put my psychology skills to good use. I started an NGO to offer therapy to other wives like me. I vowed that I would make him proud; I would live for him. So that when we meet again in heaven, he would look me in the eyes and say, “I knew you could do it, I am proud of you” and I would say, “this is what I was living for”.

Broken

Yes. She talked. She said it. After days of contemplating she finally said it. But what was the use. He forced her. He pushed her. But was he blamed? No. She was. It was her fault. All of it was her fault. She trusted him too quickly. She wooed him. She gave him signs, encouraged him. She led him on. It was only fair she had to bear the consequences. She only got what she asked for.

He did what she asked for. He reacted to her. It wasn’t his fault. He was just being a man and men needed pleasure. He needed pleasure. So he did what he wanted. He sought out her indications.

Well, why didn’t he listen when she asked him to stop?! Why didn’t he stop when she pushed him away?! He knew she wasn’t ready. He did it anyways. Why didn’t he take those indications?! Maybe he only heard what he wanted to. He ignored the rest; that which denied him what he wanted. Was he blamed? No. he wasn’t.

He said he loved her. Guess that was all pretense. Maybe he never truly loved her. Maybe he loved her for how she looked and not for what she was. Maybe he was just trying to get what he wanted and she never realized. She thought it was true, the feelings were true. Maybe they were. But now she was scarred forever. It wasn’t what she wanted.

But it was her fault. Not his. She went alone with him. If she didn’t want to, she shouldn’t have done that. She invited him to do it, didn’t she? Her words meant nothing later. Her resistance meant nothing.

She knew what people would say. She always knew. And so she hid it. She tried to be okay with it. But one day she couldn’t do that anymore. So she told them. Hoped that they would understand; thought that they would support her, be there for her. But they didn’t. The people closest to her, blamed her for it. They said it was her fault too. She was equally guilty. It wasn’t only his fault.

She was left alone. Even though she was the one who struggled through it…not him. He got everyone. She was left with nothing. I guess it really was her mistake. She never should’ve trusted him. She never should’ve loved him. They say it hurt him. But do they know what it feels like when someone you loved so much couldn’t respect you; respect your boundaries and your wishes.

Maybe it hurts him too. But no one will ever question him. It will always be her fault. People will question her. Blame her for being so stupid. She will never trust a man again. She will never trust people with her secrets again. She will never love easily again.

She walks in the rain now, to hide her tears. She’s cold and heartless. This is the last time she will ever cry; the last time she will ever trust. This is the last time she will feel… the last time she will break. And when the rain stops, the tears will too… forever. There are no scars anymore. Everything is broken. Everything is dust.

Miracles are real

That day she finally talked about the things that always haunted her; the fears that always followed her; the moments of the past that still brought tears to her eyes. People always told her that opening up to someone would make it easier for her. But it’s easier said than done. Opening up was hard because she had learnt to shut up. She had learnt to not say the things she actually wanted to and say the things they wanted to hear. After many years when she finally got to pour her heart out, her mind refused to do it.

But she wasn’t always like this. She was actually the exact opposite. She liked to talk; loved to have variety of conversations with a variety of people. She shared her views and came up with innovative ideas. She was creative, innocent, active, always on her toes. But time snatched it all away. She turned quiet, learned to only listen when having a conversation; stopped sharing her views and ideas. But not many people noticed. To her utter dismay the one person she hoped would notice simply didn’t have to time to listen to what she has to say. So she simply stopped saying it. She learnt pretty quickly that the world doesn’t give a damn to what she thinks, how she feels.

So she kept everything hidden. The only thing which actually knew her was probably her diary. The diary that listened to everything she had to say and never asked her to stop talking (writing). And so many of her fantasies, wishes, beautiful ideas and the worst of pains stayed hidden in that little bunch of papers. But she never complained. She changed her lifestyle but still enjoyed the little moments of joy that life offered her.

The most important thing of all was the people in her life - her friends, her family. They saw her transformation. Tried to help her in whatever way they could. Unfortunately there wasn’t much they could do apart from just being there with her. She had to go through that transformation alone. Through all this darkness, she still had hope; that one day things would change. And she would get to be the person she once was. She wouldn’t have to hide. She waited for that day; waited for a miracle.

After years of darkness came the light. The miracle she was waiting for had arrived. It came in the form of her daughter. Who unlike everyone else saw the world differently and saw her mother for who she was; and saw what lay behind the face that the world saw. Her daughter was there to listen, to comfort and to offer the shoulder that she always wanted.

So that day she opened up. She talked about the things that haunted her, the past that disturbed her. She found a person who brought out the old her. And that day she poured her heart out, she cried, she laughed, she yelled, she whispered, she let everything out. Surprisingly, she found herself believing what people said: Opening up made things easier. You just had to wait for the right person to open up to; believe that miracles do happen and that life isn’t all darkness.

Undoubtedly that became the best day of her life. The day her life completely turned around. She wasn’t afraid anymore. She wasn’t going to stay quiet anymore. And she definitely wasn’t going to hide anymore.

Living on the edge

What do people mean to us? Do we value them enough? Do we realize how many people are striving for us? How many people are working outside of their comfort zone, just to make sure we are comfortable? Starting from our parents, siblings, teachers, the conductors in the bus to the Indian Army, a great deal of people are helping us take our steps towards success. All in their own unique way. How often do we think about them? The people who are not your parents or relatives but still consider you their family. The people who consider the whole of India as their family.

Stories are not enough. They might never be enough. Even songs don’t have that effect. That effect after seeing your soldiers. The feeling you get after listening to patriotic songs is just the trailer. The real feeling is larger, greater and incomparable to anything. Seeing the camouflage uniform on people from YOUR country, protecting YOU, makes your heart fill with warmth and pride. Even greater is the pride of seeing people who speak the same language as you in that uniform. The joy on their faces when you talk to them in their mother tongue in a place where people speak a language you don’t understand, is mesmerizing. You might even see a tiny drop of joyful tears in their eyes, which ironically brings a smile to your face.

The opportunity of going to Thang, gave me this experience. It is because of our people, our armed forces that we proudly walk along the border of our country without a single trace of fear and watch with glistening eyes as the flag flutters mightily on the border.  Statements like “Our flag does not flutter because of the wind. It flutters because of the last breath of our soldiers", brings uncontrollable tears to your eyes. So courageous are those people who proudly paint on stones “You are under enemy observation”; not being even a bit afraid of the enemy.

Because they live for their country and die for their country. It crushes you from inside. It breaks your heart.

But at the same time fills you with immense pride.

That is the Indian Army for us.

They die for us and we live for them.

Wondering why I decided to post this now? Because I don't need an occasion to think about the Army.