Monday 18 June 2018

Diary Of A Soldier - 7. English translation of Gautam Rajrishi's 'Fauji Ki Diary' (फ़ौजी की डायरी)

Duniya mein chand log hote hain Jaadugar !
Some In The World Happen To Be Magicians !                                                                                                                                           
The world on the border... the world where the inhabitants live  either in bunkers or at the front... is a weird and wondrous world. The attitude in the laughter here warms the veins of the ice-cold winds. The green-brown prints on uniforms of the inhabitants here makes even the leafs, gone dry in the freezing conditions, go green. Keeping away from the crazed 'What's App' and 'Face book' practices, the people here write letters on inlands and envelops and receive letters from their beloveds in sacks full too.  the inhabitants here keep themselves well informed on week-old newspapers and without getting a glimpse of fresh veggies for months together the blood of the inhabitants here keeps on the boil each moment.

The haphazard kisses blown towards God by the inhabitants here make the stars fall, and wishes are made on these very falling stars by people of the rest of the world in lower plains
.
Sadness does not get a permanent visa to this world on the border. This is a world of loud guffaws... and  ingrained in these guffaws -- guts and glory have become permanent, full-fledged residents of this place. Often ignoring all these facts however conspiracies to humiliate each moment these permanent, full-fledged residents of this world are hatched constantly. When the story of such a conspiracy came to light a few days back, even surprise sat back astounded for all time to come...

...it was a lazed out morning dawdling under a slack sun. An ordinary morning in Kashmir which by the time it culminated into afternoon was going to turn into an infamous one. Just as he did on any other morning that young major had, immediately upon waking, assumed command of the seemingly indomitable tower-post situated bang in the centre of the city... ignorant completely of what destiny had in store for the morning. The tower-post was a very special one... its architecture, its location at the main crossing of the city and its windows presenting an open, all-round view... all of it together gave it the status of an unassailable and extremely strong army-post. The location of the Tower-post at that place provided a reassuring atmosphere of sorts to the movement of army convoys and other military activities. But it was because of all these specialities and salient points  that the tower had also become an eyesore for a certain section of local people.
                   
 A rumour, that a local girl had been molested by an army man, was doing the rounds since the past afternoon.  Later, when the girl praised the army man in her statement, the rumour itself had revealed itself to have been a concocted one. But that was later... at the moment the major was a little disturbed because of the rumour. Even in his disturbed state, he was somewhere looking for some solace for he believed in the power of the truth. The only purpose behind all these rumours was to... incite the local people and distort the image of the army... the major was thinking ... the initial phase of terrorism has certainly witnessed some soldiers misbehave... no such misdeed however, by any soldier during the past ten or fifteen years comes to mind. In the years gone by the army has improved its image and learning from its mistakes made in the former half of the nineties, has dealt strictly with army personnel involved in any misbehaviour. The major was deliberating silently over all this in the context of the recently floated rumour when suddenly his thoughts went into a tizzy. The crowd of local  people assembling on the road leading directly to the tower post had at once put the laid back morning on an alert mode.

The training of so many years and the experience of this terror infested area... the two together warn the young major's sixth sense. He has seen too many times how the mob here can grow horribly and turn violent in a blink. The local police who, against all his notions formed by watching films, arrives on time on being informed and fires the first round of tear-gas on the by now almost unruly mob. The destiny of the morning... the empty shell of the round falls on the head of a man in the crowd, who dies. the man's corpse turns the mob's frenzy towards the tower-post. The major watches wide-eyed a bottle filled with burning petrol come flying from the crowd and fall on his post followed by a hail of stones. A corner of the tower-post has caught fire... the major cannot see another petrol bomb come that side. When the mob's frenzy does not seem to abate despite three warnings on the loudspeaker and a second petrol bomb falls and explodes nearby in a fraction of a second, the major, pointing to the man leading the mob, orders one of his soldiers to fire once at his feet. The destiny of the morning... the man, stumbling  in the crowd panicking at the sound of fire takes the bullet on his head instead of his feet.

The major weighs all the options present before him. Should he, at the cost of the death of some more in the firing or at the risk of being torched alive along with his colleagues continue to defend the tower post or... he makes no delay in reaching a decision. The young major, abandoning the tower-post,  enters along with his soldiers the safe boundary-wall of his base-camp a little behind the tower-post... praying all the while that somebody has made a video of the entire development.

Believing he'd be tried for murder, he was preparing himself to face the questions of the enquiry-committee and praying that the one to judge his character may be anyone but those who, sitting pretty in the confines of their homes, have taken to this fad of posing as a judge on facebook and whatsapp. He wanted to avoid seeing himself in the truth-twisting, frustration-spewing headlines of the next day. This much is certain... the young major thinks... that  the headline  'Two Dead In Army Firing' would any time sound better than the headline 'One Officer and Five Jawans Of The Army' Torched Alive By An Angry Mob !'

... And whenever I get to hear such a story, I find that young major and each such soldier nothing short of a magician...

Kehti hai ye nazar
kub kya ho kya khabar
Duniya mein chand log hote hain jaadugar!                                                                                                                                                               
(What this glance tells is
that you never can tell-the what and the when of a thing to happen
for some people in the world happen to be magicians !)
                                                                                                                                                                                     
  --x--
July 2017     

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