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”.