Monday 27 May 2019

Diary Of A Soldier -21, an English translation of Gautam Rajrishi's 'Fauji Ki Diary' (फ़ौजी की डायरी २१)

Barsaat kaa baadal to deevaanaa hai kya jaane.
(the rain cloud is a crazed, how would it know)

"Kaise ho Gurnaam Singh ?" - How are you Gurnaam Singh?
"Kuchh to bolo Gurnaam !" - "Say something Gurnaam !"
"Tumhaaree beewee milne aayee hai tumse Gurnaam !" -"Your wife has come to see you Gurnaam!"

...The ICU chamber of that big army hospital in Udhampur had been echoing the past few days with more or less similar calls. During an encounter in the interior of Kashmir some days ago, a bullet fired from an AK 47 - after brushing past soldier Gurnaam Singh's bullet-proof patkaa - had entered and got wedged inside his brain. The brush with outer edge of the bullet-proof must have slowed down the bullet, the reason why soldier Gurnaam Singh was still alive. The helicopter, arriving immediately, had promptly transported injured Gurnaam to this army hospital in Udhampur. The very sight of a helicopter during all such encounters bolsters manifold the will power of the injured soldiers and the expert team of doctors and nurses on duty twenty four/seven in the military hospital does not delay a second to show their wizardry. After the seemingly unending surgery, the doctors had managed to extract the bullet lost in the mysterious labyrinths in the brain... but Gurnaam had slipped into a coma immediately after.

He had regained his senses a few days back but was neither able to recognize anybody nor say anything yet. His being alive after that fatal encounter was, in itself, nothing short of a miracle... and now his recently regained consciousness was adamant on a miracle too. The constantly-gazing-into-the-vacuum eyes of soldier Gurnaam Singh, who lay on a bed in that ICU surrounded by miscellaneous monitors and instruments, were also waiting in tandem with his consciousness for some miracle to happen. His parents and his new bride, who had arrived from a remote village in Punjab, were too awed by the grandeur of the military hospital and shining uniforms of the doctors and the nurses and feeling too tongue tied to be able to speak much. The thin and slender bride, her head covered with a dupatta, sat quietly by Gurnaam's bed or outside in the corridor... head bent, shedding tears.

Meanwhile, hit by the terrorists' bullets in another encounter two days back and admitted in the same ICU, lieutenant colonel saab, now lying in a bed beside that of Gurnaam's, was fearful that though he had escaped the enemy's bullet, he and all the other soldiers lying in that ICU chamber were sure to drown now and die in the flood of tears raining down the bride's eyes.

It must have been five or six days since Gurnaam Singh had regained his consciousness but not his memory, when one Khanna ji, a childhood friend of lieutenant colonel saab, came to visit. Khanna ji, somewhat short in height, prided himself on his booming laughter and Punjabi culture. Like any other average Indian Khanna ji was more interested in the stories of his friend's neighbours rather than in his friend. Having taken a full account of the injured soldiers lying on all other beds in the ICU chamber, Khanna ji's focus now turned to Gurnaam Singh. The moment he came to know of his details, Khanna ji got carried away and started off in his typical Punjabi...

"Hore bhaya, tera naa kee ai ?" - "So, bro, what's your name ?"

With a few short guffaws Khanna ji carried on...

"Oye, Gurnaame kidda ho? hah hah hah... yaar, tu kuchh bolda kyun nahin... kuchh to bol tu...hah hah hah !" - "Oye Gurnaam, where are you from?... why don't you say anything my pal... say something..."

...and suddenly, to the amazement of everyone present, it was as if a divine voice descended from heaven... as he lay on the bed, Gurnaam Singh's lips moved...

"Mera naa Sipahee Gurnaam Singh hai, te tussee kaun ho...hore kitthon aaye ho ?" - "My name is Sipahee Gurnaam Singh, and who may you be...where are you from ?"

It was as if joy itself had come at the time to that ICU chamber of eight beds to perform cartwheels and somersaults. Lying on his stomach on the adjoining bed, the lieutenant colonel saab screamed in excitement. The feet of all the doctors running from all the wards and corridors of the hospital had, as if, wheels added to them. All paths in that huge hospital led, for the time being, to its only ICU chamber. The hurriedly assembled doctors around Gurnaam, besieged by a mix of joy and amazement were voicing their respective opinions. All of Gurnaam's 'vitals' were perfectly in order. The conclusion that all the doctors reached was that it was the current of his mother tongue that Gurnaam Singh's adamant semi-consciousness, caught in wait of a miracle had actually required.

Meanwhile, the fear in the lieutenant colonel saab of drowning in a flood had suddenly reached its zenith, for the sobs of that thin and slender new bride, like clouds bottled up fora crazy one long, were now bringing down an incessant torrent of tears.

...and in that fear, the lieutenant colonel saab was reminded of a couplet by Nida Fazli...

"Barsaat kaa baadal to deewaanaaa hai, kyaa jaane
Kis raah se bachnaa hai...kis chhat ko bhigonaa hai”

(The rain-cloud is a crazed one, what would it know
which path to avoid... which terrace to pour down on)
               

No comments:

Post a Comment